Three Strikes Ch. 10

I never liked PDA and I still don't, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to not want to touch him in some way—a hand on his thigh, arm around his shoulder, or silent footsie under the table. I was very proud of him. He was more than a beautiful face—he was smart, talented, funny, and if his last minute google research was any indication, he likely had a photographic memory.

I'd gone to the bar a few times for fresh drinks and to the restroom while Donovan appeared to hold his own with the group, specifically Thad. They'd been left alone a few times during my excursions out, which happened to align with the rest of the group, and they appeared to get along just fine, which made me happy.

I was on my way back, after using the bathroom, when I saw Drew chatting extra intimately with Donovan. I wasn't worried or jealous, but I still pulled Donovan close to me when I sat down. I still wanted to asserted myself as his boyfriend. Drew noticed and rolled his eyes.

"Calm down there, Richard Gere. I'm not going to steal your pretty woman."

"Excusez moi? Exactly when did I become a female prostitute? If anything, I'm Richard Gere. It was only a few nights ago when Julia Roberts here (pointed his thumb at me), demanded I wine and dine him if I wanted him to put out. Then he was all high maintenance like, 'but we can't go out because you gave me a couple tiny little bruises, you asshole'." Donovan was overly dramatic as he told his version of the situation.

"Why is it that every time you impersonate me, I sound like a fourteen-year-old valley girl? And they aren't a couple of tiny little bruises!" I barely fought back laughter as I showed off my still very apparent, bite marks. "I had someone ask me if I needed the eight hundred number for the domestic violence hotline."

"Oh-my-god, shut up! You're such a fucking drama queen. As if you weren't moaning like a heifer in heat. A few more minutes and you would've been on all fours, with your ass in the air, and begging to be inseminated," he retorted.

Everyone at the table was laughing hysterically, including myself. Donovan's theatrics made everything he said funnier.

"That'd be the day," Thad laughed. He thought the comment was funnier than anyone else.

Donovan shot Thad a quizzical look.

"The day Shane has his ass in the air for anyone? The guy's the top of the tops. Have you ever tried to touch his butt?"

"Uh, yeah," Donovan hesitantly replied. He looked at me and I could see the pieces come together. He hadn't noticed, until then, the few times he'd touched my butt, I'd always rerouted the situation.

Thad laughed, "Exactly. Shane has a weird complex about his monster butt. Two and half years and I never got close and you better believe I tried hard for it."

I rolled my eyes. Hearing things like monster butt definitely didn't help alleviate the insecurities that'd built up over a lifetime of literally being the butt of the jokes. I saw Donovan's mood change ever so slightly. I couldn't read him but it irritated me that he was uncomfortable. I narrowed my eyes at Thad, trying to tell him to shut the hell up, but he only laughed.

The next hour passed, but not fast enough since most of it was Thad and the guys reliving the glory days, of which Thad appeared to overly enjoy highlighting different aspects of our relationship. All of which made me look really undesirable. It also wasn't lost on me that Donovan seemed to throw back his drink quicker than before and, by the time the evening was drawing to a close—was borderline shitfaced.

I've been on the receiving end of angry Gordy, and he didn't seem to be angry, but he wasn't as happy as before. It's possible I was over analyzing everything, worrying because of Thad.

Donovan, not so innocently, slid his hand up my thigh and graze it across my crotch. Not expecting him to be quite so brazen, my eyes whip in his direction only to find him fully engaged with the rest of the group...even though his hand is all over my junk.

I wonder if he knew how hot he looked. Not just because he was touching my crotch, but because he's stunning. I wanted to take him to the bathroom and bang, but Donovan was wasted. The last time he was wasted we had fantastic sex, that was followed by his 'great escape'. Except, as far as I was concerned, there was nothing great about it and I wasn't exactly keen on re-living it.

To make matters worse, I started to wonder if he only wanted to have sex with me when he was drunk. It made sense, since the first time we had sex, he was wasted and the last time we almost had sex, he'd had a few drinks with dinner. He was still rubbing my crotch and not getting a quick reaction since my mind was stressing about everything.

"Well, I think it's time to call it quits. Work comes early, regardless of the night before," Aaron said.

Everyone followed his lead and started grabbing their jackets, called cabs, and closed out their tabs. I didn't drink much—three beers—over the course of five hours so I grabbed Donovan's keys and drove him home. He was still under the impression we were going home to have sex, so he spent the whole car ride leaning over the center console as he kissed and rubbed on me.

I'd liked to say I was unaffected by it, but I can't. He was hot and I could probably get aroused watching him make a sandwich. It still didn't change the fact I wasn't going to allow our first official time together to be a repeat of our actual first time together. If I'd been on the fence about throwing caution to the wind, the fact he reeked of booze and his dirty talk was slurred as well as borderline incoherent, nipped my desire right in the bud.

I tried to get him to stay in his seat and after a few minutes of obedience, I looked over only to find he'd passed out. He looked cute though. His head was drooped at a weird angle. I'm sure if he saw a picture he'd cry about his double chin, but I could have easily sat there in my car and watched him all night.

Parked in his driveway, I took a moment to run my thumb across his soft cheek, then across the side of his head just above his ear. With a kiss on the forehead, I carried him bridal style to his room, stripped him to his ridiculously hot boxer briefs, and put him to bed with minimal issues. I even made sure his alarm was set for work.

I glanced back one last time, just to see his sleeping form one more time. My heart clenched at the view, it was what I wanted to see the night we were together; to wake up to him like that. Maybe someday, but it wasn't going to right now.

*** *** *** ***

The next morning, I was happily surprised when Donovan called me instead of texting.

"Hey, you," I greeted him.

"Hey, you're not in my bed."

I heard the disappointment in his voice.

"I wanted to be, but...," I trailed off, not wanting to say something wrong. "How are you feeling after last night?"

There was a slight pause before he hesitantly responded.

"Uh, how are you feeling after last night?"

His words were slow and his voice was full of uncertainty. He was passed out when we got home so there's a solid chance he had no idea what happened. I decided to play with him and see how far I could take it.

"How could I be anything other than awesome after last night?"

There was another pause before he sputtered, "Yeah, exactly...me, too."

I covered the receiver and I tried not to laugh. While listening to Donovan try to casually play off the previous night, I asked.

"So, are you going to ask me?"

"Uh, ask you what?"

"What my answer is to the question you asked me last night?" I feigned disappointment at his lack of enthusiasm.

"The question I asked you?...Yes...I'd love to know...the answer...to the question I asked you...last night," he slowly reiterated to himself.

"The answer is...yes!" I said, with a little too much excitement.

I smiled as I imagined him panicking and, maybe, pacing around his room wondering he asked and what I'd agreed to.

"That's great? Can you tell me the answer, again, but this time in a whole sentence? You know, so I can really feel your excitement."

Try as he might, he sounded totally un-enthusiastic.

I had to mute my phone because I was having trouble holding back my laugh. He was trying so hard to dig his way out of the predicament he knew nothing about and honestly, he was doing a good job.

I quickly composed myself and unmuted the phone.

"I, Shane Kelly, would love to move-in with you, Gordy!" I enthusiastically shouted.

As soon as he heard me he let out a half sob, half choke, which he caught halfway through and tried to change it into something that sounded less mortified at the potential living arrangement. In reality though, it sounded like the cry of a dying man and I was having too much fun with it. He deserved it after getting shitfaced and passing out when we were suppose to spend our first night together.

"I know you wanted me to start moving in Wednesday, but I think this weekend would be better. We could start Friday. I already talked to the guys and they're happy to help. I know we disagreed about the big, neon, Bud Light sign, but I really think we can make it work in the living room. I promise, it'll be a great conversation piece. And I think my John Deere camouflage bedding will really bring our two worlds together. If it's really a deal breaker, I'm willing to get pink camo...just for you."

"Ah, um, ah," he stuttered.

I could tell he was freaking out and I wasn't going to make him suffer forever, just a while longer.

"Do you want to have lunch today? We can talk about it more and hash out all of the details?" I asked.

"Lunch? Today? To talk about how I asked you to move in with me, and your accepting said offer? Sounds, fucking, awesome."

Except, he clearly didn't think it sounded fucking awesome and I was loving every minute of it. We finalized plans with me being excited and him sounding seriously on the verge of a mental break. I couldn't blame him, if I was in his shoes I'd probably have up and left town. No joke.

*** *** *** ***

I was already at the table when Donovan arrived and he didn't look overly enthused to see me. I plastered the biggest smile on my face and stood anxiously as he approached. After giving him a few overly happy kisses, I ushered him to sit down. He was wearing purple scrubs, which wouldn't have been my first color pick, but he looked good, of course. The purple made his skin look tanner and his eyes greener. The thing about Donovan was, he could pull off anything.

"We have so much to talk about," I smiled, broadly.

He looked like he might actually be sick. I actually felt bad because he'd probably spent the last several hours hungover while stressing over a total joke. I'd been looking forward to making him squirm, but I couldn't bear the sadness on his face any longer.

"You can calm down. You didn't ask me to move in. In fact, you passed out before I got you home, so you didn't do anything at all."

He visibly melted into his chair and I could see the weight lift from his shoulders.

"Thank. Fucking. God." He quickly looked at me with wide eyes. "No offense, but I'm not ready for that shit and fuck you for being an asshole!"

"Yeah? The asshole who got you home safely, carried you to bed, set your alarm, and didn't take advantage of you? At least I didn't need to be wasted to consider having sex with my boyfriend."

"What are you talking about?" He looked confused.

"Why else would you feel the need to suddenly start drinking excessively on the evening you insinuated we'd have sex?"

He looked up from the menu and laughed.

"It wasn't because the thought of sex was revolting, that's for sure."

"Then please, enlighten me." I crossed my arms over my chest and patiently waited.

Donovan shifted slightly on his chair and looked mildly uncomfortable. He shrugged.

"It's stupid, but your ex is smoking hot and clearly knows you better than I do. He has all of this history with you, knows everything about you. It was hard not to feel completely out of place. I guess I drank too much liquid courage."

"So, you're not upset that I'm a top of the tops?"

He laughed.

"No, not really. It's a little disappointing that I can't do anything because, believe me, your ass has been the center of my fantasies and it's not just about having my dick in it. I want to squeeze it and bite it, too (he was doing all the lewd gestures to go with it)."

I interrupted him, not liking all the talk of my backside. "Okay, okay. No need for details."

"Maybe we'll find a happy medium?" He asked.

A happy medium when my butt will be the center of someone's attention? Not likely. I shrugged and counted my blessings that lunch had arrived at that very moment, which distracted us from finishing the conversation. We spent the rest of our lunch having enjoyable conversation and agreed I'd go to his house after work, for dinner.

*** *** *** ***

Getting ready for dinner that night was nerve wracking. It'd be dinner, but with a fifty percent chance of staying the night, or at least, I hoped. I showered, shaved, cleaned up really well, and then packed an overnight bag, which I kept in the car so I wouldn't appear too desperate or assuming. If he wasn't planning to have me stay the night then I'd leave, disappointed but not embarrassed.

Dinner was great. Donovan cooked a nice salsa chicken with veggies and he asked me a bunch of questions, which I happily answered. We were still taking it slow, trying to learn information about each other on the sly, but direct questions were good, too.

Donovan looked so cool and casual, like he didn't have a care in the world as he leaned over the kitchen sink and cleaned up the last of the dishes. Of course he did, he wasn't overanalyzing what would, or wouldn't, happen after dinner like I was.

Was I waiting for him to make a move and, if so, when did I become such a pansy?

I'd forced him to dance with me, I'd asked him out, I'd stormed into his house unannounced and practically raped his face on his own staircase, and I'd given him a very public blowjob, yet, I was nervous about tonight? I couldn't believe my own cowardness and mentally berated myself for being such a sissy.

The fact I'd received confirmation from the clinic earlier in the day, that my test came back clean wasn't helping my nerves. I assumed Donovan got the same confirmation. If so, what would that mean? Sex? Condom? No condom?

I decided to move things forward, or at least feel it out. I got up from the table and walked until I was standing behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed the side of my face so I could watch him do the dishes.

"I have a question for you."

"We're not living together," he deadpanned, without hesitation.

I felt his cheek pull into a sly smile and I chuckled at the memory of the little joke.

"And give up my gutted and trashed house? Not a chance."

I squeezed him and kissed his temple before continuing.

"Actually, I was wondering if you have plans tomorrow. I was thinking we could spend the day together." Starting when we both wake up in your bed together? I thought.

Donovan didn't say anything as he casually finished washing the last pan before setting it on the drying mat. His lack of response was a little unnerving until he turned and I saw his adorable, little, smug grin. How he looked cute, sexy, and sassy all the same time, I'd never know.

"It depends. Would I have a wake up early?"

I couldn't tell what he wanted the answer to be since his expression could've been serious or playful as his fingers played with my cotton sleeves, which strangely made me feel extra big and strong.

"It depends. Do you want to wake up early?"

"It depends on what you want to wake me up for."

He bit his perfect lip and stretched it for a moment before letting it go. He didn't bite his lip because he was nervous, oh no, he was trying to drive me crazy with lust.

"I guess that depends if you want me to stay the night."

He pressed his finger to his lip, thought hard for a moment then innocently smiled.

"Sure, I think the guest room is made up."

I narrowed my eyes at him and growled at his response, which made him lightly laugh with amusement. I loved how his green eyes were happy and content, and how his smile was genuine and soul melting. I lost myself for a long moment, unable to pull away from him.

The way he looked at me sent chills down my spine—it was almost like he thought he was the lucky one. During that moment, a herd of buffalo couldn't have stopped me from leaning in and kissing his sweet lips. I groaned when he pulled away too soon.

"You can stay the night, but there's one condition," a perfect smile stretched across his face.

I couldn't imagine anything during that moment, which would've been a deal breaker, not with the way he was looking at me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him. Like the lost puppy I was, I followed him blindly as he turned off all of the lights and locked the doors before leading me upstairs to meet the fate of his said condition.

His room was big. I'd seen it the night before when I carried his lifeless body to bed, but my mind had been focused on the task at hand. It was nothing like my room, which was grey and boring. His bed was solid colors of cream, peach, and different shades of yellow.

It looked like an explosion of bridal flowers—it was nothing I would've picked in a million years—but it was soft, fluffy and honestly, a little cozy. It could've been neon pink for all I cared, as long as Donovan was going to be naked on it.

He placed me a few feet away from the bed. He took a few steps back until he was sitting on his bed facing me.

"Strip," he commanded.

My eyes widened. I wasn't insecure by any means, but it was still a little intense to have all of Donovan's attention the way I did then.

"My clothes?" I stupidly asked.

"No, the paint on the walls," he retorted.

He must've sensed my hesitation and added. "Don't worry, I'll strip for you next."

My hesitation had nothing to do with getting naked with him, but more to do with getting naked for him. Was that the condition he was talking about? Was he wanting a seductive striptease or something?

I'm sure Donovan could pull off the perfect, seductive striptease that would land me in the hospital with a cardiac arrest, but I had to admit, I didn't have any experience or technique in that area. Whatever I could manage to pull off wouldn't be labelled as seductive, sexy, or a turn on. And as much as I'd loved to see Donovan work his way out of his own clothes, I wanted to do it for him.

"No, you won't. I plan on stripping you myself," I replied.

In an effort to speed things along so I could unwrap Donovan sooner, I forwent the striptease since there was no need to make things awkward or embarrassing for either of us. I simply undressed, starting with my shirt—the way I did when getting ready for a shower. Nothing sexy at all.

Donovan stood and put his hand on my chest to stop me.

"You're right. Stripping you would be much more enjoyable," his voice was thick and heavy, so unlike his normal upbeat self.

I watched him as his eyes studied every inch of my body while he slowly unveiled my body with his fingers before moving to the next item that stood between us. I've had a lot of sex, but I'd never been touched with the desire Donovan showed. It was intimidating, but addicting. Even with my past boyfriend's, sex was only sex. Donovan's touch was like lava as he peeled away my clothing so slowly, you'd think he was removing gauze from a burn victim, which was fitting considering the way I was burning with desire.