Long Pass Chronicles 02 - Canning the Center by Tara Lain

out and we get to know each other before I quit football and take up fucking you full time?”
    Who could laugh at a time like this? But he still did. He hugged that big, muscular frame tight and rubbed his cock against Jamal’s huge bulge until they were both gasping. “No. No, I think you better write the resignation letter.”
    “Deal. But I could take us out for root beer floats first.”
    Trevor stopped. “I love root beer.”
    Jamal held him still, their cocks still squashed in bliss. “You’re kidding. No one likes root beer but me.”
    “I do. It’s my favorite.”
    “There’s this diner—”
    “Okay, fuck sex. I need a root beer float and a hamburger.” Was the bunny really going to do this? Trevor cocked his head. “Are you about to bail on a guaranteed orgasm to take me out for root beer, sir?”

Chapter 6

     
    T REVOR GRINNED as Jamal looked at him through his black lashes. “You think I’m crazy?”
    “Certifiable.”
    “It’s just, I want to get to know you. I mean, like you said, Trixie isn’t that kind of girl, and I don’t want you to think I came here to get in your pants. Or to only get in your pants.” God, that smile was edible. “But I also don’t want you to think that making this insane suggestion is easy. Trust me, I can be talked out of it in a fucking flash.”
    Trevor rested his forehead against Jamal’s and breathed. What did he want? Jamal’s more than ample cock in some available orifice, for one. But did he want more? Because “getting to know you time” implied a deeper interest. Okay, yes. He was curious about the guy. Fucking and forgetting might not be the best approach. Based on Jamal’s determination, it might not even be a possible approach. This man had gone to some considerable trouble against what seemed his own best interest to come here. Oh, what the hell. Don’t overthink it, Landry. You love root beer. “Okay. Let’s go.”
    Jamal beamed and slowly relaxed his hold on Trevor. Hmm, that was the bad part—giving up that cock. Jamal tilted that big head. “Can I drive you, or do you want to follow me?”
    “I don’t have a car.”
    His eyes widened.
    “I know. It’s a rarity in southern California. But I don’t have the money for a car, and I’m not emotionally suited to driving.”
    “Too nervous?”
    “Too analytical. I have trouble relaxing and letting instinct take over. I think about driving, which in turn drives me crazy.”
    Jamal laughed. “Do you have similar problems during sex?”
    Slightly sore subject . Trevor unbound his legs from Jamal’s waist and let them slide down. “Occasionally.”
    He flashed the grin. “I should warn you. I love a challenge.”
    Oh my . “Anytime.”
    “So if you can’t drive, how do you get here?”
    “Bike, sometimes bus.”
    He swept a bow toward the door. “My chariot awaits, sir.”
    Trevor grabbed his windbreaker, then paused and stared at the leather jacket carefully hung beside his evening gowns. He slipped the smooth garment from the hanger and draped it around his shoulders, then grinned and walked out into the hall. Jamal laughed and followed him. He could hear the music from the second show as he led the way down the narrow corridor to the back entrance and pointed at his bike leaning against the wall. “Is there room in your trunk?”
    Jamal nodded. “You kidding? I can smuggle small countries in that trunk.”
    The alarm wasn’t set, so Trevor pushed open the door. Jamal lifted the bike like it was a pick-up stick and set it down in the back alley, then started walking toward the lot where they’d shared that more than memorable kiss. Trevor walked fast to keep up with Jamal’s longer strides, even rolling the bike beside him. It always felt funny to be in sneakers again after an evening in heels. “So what were you planning to do if I’d just left and you were still sitting at the table?”
    “I don’t know. Sleep there, maybe.” The white teeth flashed.
    “I’m sure