So Mary Jane had tracked Damian down on the app, which was incredibly creepy and terrifying in and of itself, and then put in the request, using the photo and name of a woman about the right age to be…
“Peter, is your mom named Janet?” Nothing. “Peter? Dude, you still there?”
A soft thump made Damian frown. Was that Peter whacking his forehead into the door? “What does that…yes,” Peter said at last. “Now go away. Please. I got played by my sister, okay? I’m not sure how, but she set this up.”
Damian turned, about to give up. It’d been a surprising letdown to think he’d never see Peter again, but he could’ve been imagining the way the guy had looked at him. And there were other fish in the sea. Maybe not cuter fish, but other ones. Damian could be an asshole, but he refused to be the kind of asshole who chased a guy who’d clearly told him to get lost.
And then he stopped as it occurred to him—finally, because yeah, he might not be a moron but he’d never be a rocket scientist, either. “Why? Why would she send me over here, anyway? And why do you thinkyougot played? I’m the one who drove over here thinking I had a job. As a handyman. That’s how she got me here.”
The silence after that felt a lot heavier. Was Peter embarrassed? Had he wanted to see Damian? He needed something better than questions about Peter’s bitchy sister to get that door open again.
“Look, this doesn’t have to suck,” he went on, and then of course he started thinking about whatcouldsuck, and how awesome that would be. Either way. He’d never been the kind of dickwad top who thought it wasn’t his job to get on his knees. Oh, fuck, not the time.“I’m here to give you a hand, okay? You know, handyman app, you’re down a hand, so…” Damian cleared his throat, out of words and out of ideas for making that sound less like a come-on.
It didn’t help that if Peter went for it, he so meant it as a come-on.
To his surprise, the door slammed open again with a rattle. Peter stood in the doorway glaring at him, his expression far from impressed. “I don’t need a hand.”
Damian glanced pointedly at his cast. “Yeah, well, at least it’s the left, so you can still, you know…” He waggled his eyebrows and moved his own right hand up and down, fingers curled. “But you can’t plant that tree over there with just one hand.” Shit. That had been a come-on, no ambiguity and no subtlety at all. And this would be why Damian let the other guys hit on him.
Peter turned a really interesting color of pink Damian couldn’t think of a word for. Damian looked like a total dumbass when he blushed. It was so unfair that Peter only got exponentially cuter, all deep pink along his cheekbones and his lips rosy-red.
“I’m left-handed,” Peter gritted out. And then he went from shades of pink to tomato red…and still fucking cute. Damian wanted to lick him and see if he tasted as hot as his skin appeared to be. Would his erection show in these jeans? Fuck. “But I don’t—I don’t need a hand! With anything!”
Aaaand that didn’t sound like protesting too much at all. Damian took a step, looming over Peter in the doorway but not putting so much as a toe over the threshold, so Peter could still slam the door again if he wanted.
Damian tried to channel the way he flirted at a club, hard to do without any liquor in him, but made easier by how fucking adorable Peter looked, standing there in his underwear all red and pink like a fancy rose.
“I have two hands, and they’re both at your service,” he practically purred. And then, when Peter didn’t react, didn’t so much as twitch, just stood there gaping at him, pretty soft lips parted—then, he did what he absolutely had to do, what anyone would’ve done: Damian leaned in and kissed him.
Chapter Five
One secondhe’dbeen standing there, looking like an idiot, and the next, Damian was kissing him.Kissinghim. Kissinghim. The thought echoed through Peter’s mind almost loudly enough to drown out the rush of sensation: soft lips, but a kiss that wasn’t soft at all, insistent and eager. Peter let out a sound he’d never admit was a squeak of surprise. Damian took full advantage of his open mouth, tongue pressing in and tangling with Peter’s, tasting him and demanding more.
Damian was gay, oh holy crap, Damian wasgay. Or bi, or whatever, Peter was hardly in a position to quibble over the details.
Peter’s uninjured right hand went up. He’d meant to push Damian away, but then his fingers pressed against Damian’s chest, hard and muscled and so perfect even through the cotton of his T-shirt, and his hand…lingered there, tracing Damian’s pec and sliding up to his shoulder seemingly of its own accord.
Warmth seeped into his hand, and Damian’s scent wrapped itself around him: clean sweat, laundry detergent, and something spicy and fresh and invigorating, like the autumn sunshine and the autumn breeze pouring in through the door.
Damian stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist, pulling their bodies flush. Oh, that was Damian’s cock, and it felt so big against his abdomen.
His chubby, totally un-ripped abdomen.
Embarrassment and common sense joined forces and hit him over the head. Peter yanked himself out of Damian’s grasp and tore his lips away from the best kiss he’d ever had. Because he was an idiot like that, and also because he didn’t have any other choice.
“Don’t,” Peter managed to choke out. It took a second for Damian to let him go, but Peter was pretty sure that was surprise, not pushiness. And Damian’s eyes held genuine disappointment, Peter would have sworn to it.
Of course, his judgment sucked.
Damian’s brows furrowed. “Why not?” He sounded completely baffled, as if he’d never had anyone tell him not to kiss them before. Well, he probably hadn’t, looking like that. Peter couldn’t even imagine a life like that.
For a second, lost in envy and regret, Peter couldn’t come up with a good answer. Seriously, he had the hottest guy he’d ever seen, let alone made out with, standing here in his doorway trying to come in the house and probably give him the ride of his life, and he was…
In a cast and half-asleep and pathetic, that’s what, and Damian wouldn’t even have been here if Mar hadn’t tricked him into it.
Yeah, that was why. Because he was a mess, and Damian probably just wanted a distraction from his upcoming exciting task of digging a hole in the front yard.
Or it could be pity. That made the most sense, because Peter was really,trulya mess, and even on his best day he couldn’t pull a guy like Damian—unless said guy felt incredibly guilty for running him over with a fire truck. Peter’s insides shrank into a cold little ball.
