Gayish

Gayish

by Kim Dare
Gayish

Gayish

by Kim Dare

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Overview

A gay-ish submissive and a very gay dominant. Gay Pride rallies have never been so much fun.

When Langford sees Tayton lurking in the rain opposite a gay pride rally, he couldn't be more thrilled that the cute guy from the sandwich shop is finally prepared to come out of the closet.

Tayton isn't so sure he's all that ready to come out. Technically, he's not even sure he's entirely gay—even if he has had a crush on Langford for months.

Can a man who's not even sure he's gay really find happiness with a man who's never been in the closet?


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780857153043
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Publication date: 10/04/2010
Series: G-A-Y , #12
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 43
File size: 275 KB
Age Range: 18 Years

About the Author

Kim Dare is a twenty-seven year old full time writer from Wales (UK). First published in December 2008, Kim has since released over thirty BDSM erotic romances.While the stories range over male/male, male/female and all kinds of ménage relationships and have included vampires, time travellers, shape-shifters and fairytale re-tellings, they all have three things in common—kink, love and a happy ending.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

"Please tell me you're not still staring at that same boy?"

Ben Langford made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, in the vague hope that his friend might be satisfied with the non-answer and let him go back to staring at the young man on the other side of the road in peace.

"He's probably just waiting for the damn bus," Paul said — not for the first time that afternoon.

"Probably," Langford allowed. The boy was probably just sitting on the bench by the bus stop in the rain because he was waiting for a bus. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Still, Langford couldn't quite bring himself ignore the fact that there was another, equally plausible, reason for a man to linger opposite the park that was currently hosting the town's annual gay pride rally. It was just possible, that the younger man wasn't waiting for a bus, but for the courage to step out of the closet, cross the road and join in the fun. It was that, somewhat tentative prospect, that had kept Langford glued to the view across the road for the last half an hour.

"The question you should be asking yourself," Paul informed him. "Is — would you still believe he wasn't waiting for a bus if he didn't look like just your sort of cute little blond sub?"

Langford said nothing. The boy didn't look like just any cute little blond sub — he looked like the cute little blond sub who worked in the sandwich shop that Langford had been stalking during every lunch hour for weeks.

"You're going to get soaked to the skin for nothing," Paul warned.

And if he dropped in to flirt with the other man one more time, Langford was pretty sure he was going to turn into a damn sandwich. The chance of seeing him without a sandwich in his hand was too good to pass up just because he might get a little damp.

One last glance at the rain that pounded down around the marquee, and Langford stepped out into the downpour. There was no shelter at the stop, just the bench, a timetable on a post, and the sandwich guy.

The boy had turned his attention away from the park as soon as he'd spotted Langford crossing the street. By the time he reached him, the younger man was looking both ways along the road, as if a bus might pop into existence at any second, and rush to his aid.

"Hello."

Pretty green eyes screamed their confusion and uncertainty, as they blinked up at Langford. "Hi."

"Are you waiting for the bus?"

The younger man looked from him to the bus time table and back again. He nodded.

He wasn't a very good liar. The blush that stole to his cheeks was a far more honest indication of his reasons for being there. Sitting down next to him, Langford tried not to freak the boy out any more than absolutely necessary by smiling too broadly at him.

The bench was wet, but it made little difference. Just walking across the road in the deluge had already left Langford as wet as any man could get.

"What are you doing?" The sandwich guy didn't actually edge away along the hard metal seat, but Langford was sure he was tempted to.

"I'm waiting with you," Langford said. "Do you mind?"

The other man glanced at him as if he'd lost his mind, but shrugged aside any inclination he might have had to tell him to sod off and stop acting weird.

Langford held out his hand. "I'm —"

"Prawn cocktail crisps."

Thrown off his stride by the sheer randomness of the statement, Langford hesitated.

"You order a different sandwich every day, but you always have a packet of prawn cocktail crisps with them," the boy reminded him.

"That's right." Langford glanced at his hand, where it was still extended towards the other man.

"Sorry, Tayton Davies." He put his hand in Langford's grip.

"Ben Langford — I prefer Langford."

"I prefer Tayton?" the other man hazarded as he retrieved his hand. He didn't even seem very sure about that, right then.

"And you're gay," Langford said.

Tayton continued to stare at the pavement in front of his feet. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. Langford was pretty sure he didn't even breathe.

"So am I," Langford mentioned, just in case any of the hints he'd dropped over the weeks of flirting hadn't sunk in. Considering he hadn't even reached the point where he was sure of the other guy's name, it seemed quite possible.

Tayton's shoulders moved under his sodden t-shirt as he started to breathe again. "I guess I'm ... I think I might be sort of ... gay-ish?" He glanced at Langford then quickly back to the pavement.

"Okay."

Tayton frowned at the ground for a little while. "Okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay."

Tayton nodded. Langford could practically feel the relief pouring off him, mixing with the trails of rain that caressed his skin. As he watched one particular droplet wind its way down the other man's arm, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd taste like if someone were to lean forward and lick up one of the drops. Langford smiled as he forced himself to resist the temptation to find out right then.

The younger man's usually floppy blond hair was plastered to his head. His clothes were slicked down against his body too. Langford couldn't help but regret that the other man had chosen to sit half hunched over with his forearms resting against his knees. The posture ruined the best view of the other man's body that had come his way. He'd always wondered what kind of torso was hidden away behind that sandwich shop apron.

"You're soaked through."

Tayton looked from him to the shelter of the marquee in the park and back to the paving slabs beneath his feet. "I've been soaked for ages. I'm not going to get any wetter if I stay out in the rain a bit longer."

Langford's gaze followed a similar circuit, from Tayton to the park and back to his new friend. If there was no chance of getting him across the road, then ... "We could go back to my place."

Tayton glanced up at him again, more wary than ever.

"It'll be dry, and I can promise you we'll be the only gay men in the room."

The younger man hesitated. "Gay-ish," he reminded him.

All things considered, it was a very polite way for the boy to point out that he wasn't so far out of the closet he'd happily screw any man who asked. It was also amazingly calm, coming from a man who'd panicked every single time Langford had flirted with him during his lunch hour.

"Gay-ish," Langford agreed, getting to his feet.

Tayton looked both ways down the street, just in case a bus might turn up and offer him the perfect excuse to avoid the whole situation, but finally stood up.

He fell easily in step with Langford as they walked down the street along the side of the park and down the road that flanked the adjacent edge. The entire journey passed without a single word. Rather than add the pressure of a conversation onto the younger man's shoulders, Langford amused himself with sideways glances at the other man.

By the time they reached his block of flats, he was mentally drafting a petition to have all sandwich shop aprons banned as a point of law. Tayton shouldn't be allowed to hide a body that good behind anything, let alone the green stripy concoction that had concealed his new friend's form for so many weeks.

Right then, the drenched white t-shirt he wore was practically transparent. Each line of muscle was perfectly outlined against the thin fabric. His saturated jeans cupped an amazing arse far more perfectly than any dry pair ever could. And the boy was finally on the verge of admitting he was gay ...

As they stood quietly dripping next to each other in the lift on the way up to the fourth floor of Langford's building, Tayton rocked on the heels of his trainers, never once looking away from the shiny grey doors.

Langford turned and leaned against the mirrored side of the elevator so he could study his new friend more easily. No man he'd met had ever managed to scream his potential as a submissive more clearly. The boy practically yelled out his need for a master to belong to with every step. And there was something about him which made Langford sure he should be that master.

If a man with his age and experience going dizzy over a boy he barely knew hadn't been so honestly mystifying, it would have been laughable.

All the way up, Tayton stared very hard at the illuminated numbers above the doors, as if not looking at the other occupant in the lift might somehow change the fact he'd agreed to go back to an openly gay man's flat. Langford couldn't help but smile at the sheer innocence that poured off the boy. Paul had been wrong — in some ways, Tayton wasn't at all like the kind of subs he usually went for.

The moment the elevator doors opened, the younger man shot out of the confined little space, leaving soppy footprints in his wake.

"Left at the end of the corridor," Langford called after him, as he strolled along behind. "Third door on your right after that."

By the time Langford reached his front door, the submissive stood nervously to one side of it. His anxiety didn't seem to ease once they were in the flat. He shivered as Langford closed the door behind him.

Reaching out, the dominant ran his fingers along the younger man's arm. "You're freezing."

Tayton shrugged. "I'm fine, just damp."

"More like an inch away from hyperthermia," Langford muttered. "The sooner you strip out of the wet clothes the better."

The submissive's eyes shot up to meet his. When Tayton would have protested, Langford stopped him short, pointing to the bathroom. "There's a robe in there. You can even lock the door while you get changed if it'll make you feel better."

Tayton looked from him to the bathroom door.

"Go on," Langford ordered. "I'll dig out some clothes for you to wear while yours dry."

Tayton cautiously stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Langford waited patiently on the other side of the woodwork for a few seconds. Just as he expected, the soft sound of someone locking the door as quietly and as politely as possible soon floated into the hall.

Smiling to himself, Langford wandered into his own bedroom to change out of his own wet clothes.

Tayton Davies stared at the lock on Langford's bathroom door for a long time, his fingers still resting on the mechanism. His hands weren't shaking. He was quite proud of that. He was making a complete fool of himself and acting like a prat in front of the man he'd had a crush on since the first moment he'd set eyes on him, but he was doing so with very steady hands.

Mentally rolling his eyes at himself, Tayton turned away from the door. The mirror above the sink caught him off guard. He didn't look half as freaked out as he felt. He supposed he should be grateful for that too. Resting his hands either side of the sink, he leaned against the edge of the marble countertop and forced himself to hold his own gaze.

He was going to do this — maybe ...

Tayton sighed as he looked away from his reflection in disgust. Snatching a towel off the rail, he rubbed it against his sodden hair, as if he might be able to scrub some sense into himself at the same time. Avoiding even the briefest glance towards the mirror, he dragged his drenched clothes off his limbs and set them on the counter next to the sink.

Moving the towel rapidly over his skin, he tried very hard to avoid thinking about the fact he was half hard just from sitting next to the other man at the bus stop. His hands might have been steady and entirely under his control. Tayton just wished he could have said the same about his cock.

Just as Langford had promised, a robe hung on the back of the bathroom door. Tayton would have been a lot happier if it had been a longer robe. He'd have been damn near ecstatic if he'd discovered it was wide enough to wrap around his torso several times over. As it was, far too little fabric seemed to overlap in front of him when he tied the belt.

He had a horrible feeling a full blown erection would part the material and peek out from between the folds of cotton at the worst possible moment. Tayton took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he'd never be ready to believe there was a good time for him to expose himself to another man that way.

Checking the belt, just in case he might have somehow forgotten to tie it, Tayton added a double knot and forced himself to venture out of the bathroom.

A few yards down the hallway, Tayton glanced past a half-closed door. His bare feet declined to take another step forward. His eyes refused to look away.

Langford stood in his bedroom, tall and dark — and entirely naked. His back was to Tayton, his whole body displayed perfectly for him as the older man stepped forward and took a shirt from a wardrobe. When he turned to add it to several other items of clothes that were already spread out on his bed, Tayton took a hurried step back, out of the other man's line of sight.

His heart raced faster as he waited for an indignant curse, for the yell that would let him know Langford has seen him peeping. No angry words came. Tayton cautiously stole another glance around the door frame.

Langford was staring down at the clothes he'd laid out. He didn't appear likely to look towards his bedroom door any time soon. Tayton held his ground.

The other man was several inches taller than him, and far more muscular. Tayton ran his eyes slowly over his host's body. Broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, gorgeous abs. He was older than Tayton by more than a few years, and each year seemed to have added a depth to each line of muscle. His eyes wandered further down until they rested on the older man's cock. Tayton wasn't sure if he was supposed to be reassured at the fact the other man was also half hard, or if he should merely panic all the more.

When Langford seemed about to look towards him, Tayton stepped quickly out of sight again and leant against the wall next to the bedroom door, heart racing faster than ever.

Clothes rustled. Tayton risked another glance. Langford's face was hidden behind a black t-shirt as he pulled it over his head. He'd tugged a pair of black jeans on too, but he hadn't done them up yet. Tayton stole one last fleeting look at the other man, before rushing away. The view through another half open door displayed the edge of a kitchen cabinet.

Tayton just had time to scurry into the kitchen and make some attempt at looking like he'd been waiting for the other man for several minutes, before he heard Langford enter the room.

If sitting next to him at the bus stop had coaxed Tayton half-hard, it was nothing compared to the effect of being in the older man's house, let alone his response to the view past Langford's bedroom door. Keeping his back to the other man and the front of his tenting robe towards the cabinet on the other side of the room, he waited for the other man to speak first.

"I found some clothes that my brother left behind last time he visited," Langford said. "If you want to try —"

"Would you like something to eat?" Part of Tayton was aware it was an embarrassingly rude question to ask another man in his own home. Most of him cared far more about finding an excuse to stay facing the cabinet than about good manners.

"Sure," Langford said, apparently not the least fazed.

Tayton glanced over his shoulder. "Anything in particular you want?"

Langford's lips twitched as if he was trying not to chuckle, or perhaps as if he was resisting the temptation to give a truly honest answer. "Whatever you're inclined to is fine with me."

Tayton turned quickly to the fridge and looked inside. Cold air caressed his skin, but it did little to cool his flushing cheeks.

Tayton peeked over his shoulder as he heard a movement. He discovered Langford leaning comfortably against the cabinet on the other side of the room, his expression was much the same as he wore when he was watching him make his lunchtime sandwich every day. It was as unnerving as ever.

Doing his best to work on automatic, Tayton took the makings of an omelette out of the fridge. It was just about the only meal the other man seemed to own the ingredients to. Suddenly, it was far less surprising he didn't make his own sandwiches to take to work with him.

"What are you thinking?"

"What is it about people around here and prawn cocktail crisps?" Tayton blurted out. Even if they weren't capable of making their own sandwiches, he'd have thought that they would be able to take their snacks to work with them — or at least be willing to try another flavour now and again.

"For largely the same reason I was tempted to suggest our meal should include whatever's in that cabinet." Langford pointed to the centre kitchen cabinet that stood directly opposite the piece of countertop he leaned against.

(Continues…)


Excerpted from "Gay-ish"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Kim Dare.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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