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ELI UNLOCKED THE BEIGE door of his apartment. It was on the second floor out of four, which was lucky since the elevator was out of service again.
“You’re my first visitor here,” he said, feeling all kinds of self-conscious. Almost three months wasn’t long enough to really settle in, and Bo’s presence behind him had him see his home through new eyes.
The building dated to the seventies, the hallway carpet was an insipid brown, and the walls and door colors were designed for ease of cleaning rather than esthetic appeal. As much as Eli tried to spruce up the inside and add some color, the beige carpet remained uninspiring and his few pieces of IKEA furniture looked Spartan.
“Nice place,” Bo said behind him. “Then again, you haven’t been here long enough to clutter it up and inherit all kinds of crap.” He kicked his boots off.
“You don’t have to,” Eli said, but then he thought of the rain outside, and got out of his black, split-sole dance sneakers. “On the other hand... my shoes are soaked, actually.”
Bo’s sleeveless tank, the one he’d probably thought would be perfect for both the rising spring temperatures and the heat of the lights on the stage, was soaked and plastered to his skin, and sharp goose bumps stood up on Bo’s arms. Eli realized he wasn’t feeling any warmer. “Let’s go get towels first. You want anything warm to drink?”
“No,” Bo said with a yawn. “Gotta sleep. No coffee, no tea.”
“Okay. Come along, then!” Eli crossed the small, open-floor living and dining room and made a left into his single bedroom. It was big enough for a queen-size bed and a few pieces of basic furniture, and even better, it had enough closet space to house all his clothes and a few old extras. He opened a thick drawer and pulled out two purple, terrycloth towels. “Here.” He handed one to Bo.
“Thanks,” Bo said. “You mind?” Without waiting for a word one way or another, he stripped out of his wet sleeveless shirt and rubbed his arms and torso.
Eli stared.
Bo was like one of those Greek statues he’d seen at the Carnegie Museum of Art. He was strong, had great shoulders and a defined chest, but all those muscles looked like they weren’t formed by lifting weights. Was it his imagination, or was Bo’s right tricep more cut than his left? The dancer in him began to analyze even as he reached behind himself and unzipped his sparkly top.
Their gazes met, and to Eli’s relief, Bo was amused by the scrutiny. “You like what you see?”
This was probably the wrong time to bring up Bo’s uneven development. “Yeah, I do.” Eli peeled his wet top off, knowing he had nothing to be ashamed off, yet feeling a bit inadequate. He knew he was being too hard on himself, even when he took into account the dancer’s propensity to by hypercritical of his own body. Now he couldn’t towel off without wondering whether Bo would find him too small. Too scrawny. Too... something.
“Hey,” Bo said, running his finger down his shoulder and toward his chest. Eli hadn’t waxed since he stopped dancing, but the smattering of black hair shouldn’t be too much...
“Oh!” Eli gasped, then bit the edge of his lower lip. If Bo’s one-fingered touch felt like this, then he was in for quite a ride. He leaned closer. “That’s real nice.” He brushed his fingertips up Bo’s belly, nails dragging against the moist skin.
“Yeah, it is,” Bo said. Then he chuckled.
“What?”
“These towels, they’re new, right?” The amused tone somehow failed to set Eli at ease.
“Yes?”
“You haven’t washed them yet, have you?”
Eli shook his head. “No. Wait, are they scratchy? I didn’t think they were scratchy!”
Bo leaned in, surprising Eli with a soft kiss on his nose. “But they’re shedding. Look!”
Instead of just feeling, Eli looked. In the pale light that poured into the darkened bedroom from the hallway, Eli realized they were both covered with dark purple towel fluff.
“Shit.” Eli’s enthusiasm deflated. “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.” Bo grinned and started to rub Eli all over. “You’ll look even cuter. Like one of those marshmallow Pips. I saw ‘em in colors. They don’t come in just yellow anymore.”
“Shit, really? That’s fucking undignified!”
Bo stopped, wrapped the towel around Eli’s shoulders, and walked him backward until Eli’s calves hit the bed.
He fell, and Bo settled right on top of him.
“I’ll tell you what’s undignified,” he growled. “Standing on stage with a hard-on with hundreds of people watching. That’s fuckin’ undignified. And that’s because of you, cupcake. You and your slinky dancing.”
Bo’s face was just inches away from Eli’s now, and heat emanated from Bo in waves, as though he had it all stored up from standing by the furnace five days a week. Eli shivered at the contrast between his chilled arms and the pleasant heat Bo was giving off. “Bed?” he rasped weakly.
“Bed,” Bo said. “Pants off.”
Eli slithered out of his damp jeans and tossed them on the floor. His underwear was still on except its butt was wet, and no underwear sounded a lot better than trying to dry out his briefs with his body heat. He got rid of them and slipped under the comforter.
“Hey.” Bo’s naked silhouette showed against the hallway light. “Light on or off?”
“Off.”
“Which side do you want me on, left or right?”
Nice of Bo to ask, except Eli wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been with just one guy in a long time. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Does to me.” Bo crawled in, settling by his right. “I’m right-handed, and I wanna be able to reach you.” Bo rolled to his side, plastering himself against Eli’s body. “Like this.” He reached down to Eli’s crotch and cupped his package. The heel of his palm brushed the semi-hard head of Eli’s cock. He heard a moan split the air and startled when he realized it had been the sound of his own pleasure.
Should he care? He’d never felt this self-conscious before, but he didn’t want to do anything to make the happy goodness stop. Bo’s heat warmed the entire space under the blanket and he felt Bo’s erection rub against his hip. “Nice,” he finally said. “This is real nice.”
“Yeah, it is.” Bo yawned, then squeezed Eli’s cock. “Can you go to sleep like this?”
Eli gave a breathy laugh. “Don’t know, can you?”
Bo remained silent for a while, but the tension in his body told Eli he tried his best not to hump him like a dog. Just the barest caress of Bo’s dickhead stroked the sensitive skin of Eli’s hip, and that alone made Eli hard enough to pound nails, even though Bo’s right hand had retreated to his side of the bed.
“That answers that question,” Eli said. He pushed on Bo’s shoulder until Bo rolled onto his back. “Here, let me...” Eli straddled Bo, lying on top of him, elbows digging into the bed near Bo’s armpits.
Eli inhaled, tasting the air. Bo’s pit hair tickled his forearms and he could smell a hint of old deodorant and layers of new musk and sweat. And, damn, that was just the sexiest smell ever. Eli lined up his cock with Bo’s and rocked a few times.
“Oh God,” Bo groaned, bucking under him. Eli felt the sweep of Bo’s callused hands up his arms, his shoulders. Those hands were manly, big and strong, and used to manly labor. Just like Bo’s body, working hard, building muscles by making useful things. Eli whimpered at the squeeze of Bo’s hands, the way Bo caressed his neck next, Bo’s fingers in Eli’s hair, playing, squeezing, tugging.
Raising his arms like that released more of Bo’s smell. So sexy, so animalistic. Enticing, warm, musky – he bet Bo’s pits would taste of salt and something extra. Not overthinking it, Eli ducked down and buried his face under Bo’s arm.
Yes! Warm and smelly in the best possible way.
Bo’s movement froze – Eli ignored all that and groaned, huffing Bo like he was a jar of glue.
“Eli?” The uncertain edge of Bo’s voice nudged Eli out of his olfactory heaven.
“Hmm?” His face was buried in the coarse arm-pit hair, a mother lode of an aphrodisiac he wished he could bottle.
“I haven’t showered.” That apologetic tone.
“Good,” Eli rumbled, voice still muffled with pheromonal goodness. Daring greatly and quite aware he was pushing a boundary of Bo’s comfort zone, he licked the swirl of hair, digging to the sensitive skin underneath.
“Shit!” Bo’s word came together with his violent upthrust and Eli felt the silky, bursting hardness stroke his own painfully erect cock.
Eli licked again and again, tasting the incredible essence that was Bo, when Bo grabbed their both erections in his big hand. The smooth fingers, a touch of callus, a squeeze – that’s all it took.
Eli whimpered, gurgled, and came.
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EMBARRASSMENT WAS TOO weak a word to describe what Bo had felt when Eli dove for his armpit. He’d battled body odor and sweaty pits for as long as he’d worked at Zimm Glass. The stains that inevitably fought their way through the best chemical barrier money could buy were a painful testament of Bo being just an hourly laborer who never went to college. Neither sweaty shirts nor the lack of prospects got him noticed as a serious romantic candidate.
Until now. And how crazy was that? A guy, a lithe and graceful dancer, smart in that nerdy sort of way, who was as kinky as a ball of yarn, got off on exactly the thing Bo had been criticized for in the past.
He heard Eli purr in pleasure as he bathed in his odor, and Eli’s hard, smooth cock was a testament to Bo’s turn-on power. Reducing Eli to a quivering, tense mass over his sweaty pits buoyed Bo’s chest with a special kind of sweetness.
Some would call it hope.
And when Eli’s tongue tangled in his hair down there, when he felt how hard Eli was holding back, well hell, that was the hands-down most erotic thing anyone had ever done to him.
Eli came, curled over his body kind of sideways. His slick heat spilled over Bo’s hand. Most of it landed on his belly, but there was enough on his hand to slick up their cocks.
“Eli, come up here,” Bo said with a gasp. Eli did, and they kissed as Bo kept jerking them together.
Lips... lips and tongue and his own armpit smell all over Eli’s face.
“Too much,” Eli cried, “Too sensitive!”
Bo was about to let go, but heat curled in his balls, his ass clenched, and he exploded so hard he had to grab something with his teeth or risk waking up the whole building.
Black, then white, then shooting stars. More black, and the hum of rushing blood in his ears.
“Wow,” he said.
“Oww,” Eli said back. “Um. That was real hot, but next time, don’t bite so hard, mkay?” Then he kissed him, as though to take the sting out of the complaint.
“Bite?” Things weren’t connecting yet. He was sinking... sinking into the mattress, and a very hot, very squirmy, gorgeous guy was sprawled over his chest.
“Sleep,” Eli said.
So he did.