Page 31 of The Bro Date
Tate snickers, whispering something to Toby that I can’t quite hear. I push through the exit with two harness-clad twinks under my arms, completely aware of how this situation looks.
As we step off the curb, we draw the eyes of the bouncers working the door. “Drive safely! That’s some precious cargo you got there, buddy!” the burly older man yells.
I look over and give him a death glare, leading my drunk friends around the side of the building where I parked. Opening the passenger side door, I fold the front seat down and help Tate up first. He climbs into the small back seat, and I adjust the front seat into an upright position. Toby climbs into the passenger seat, and I shut the door, running around to the driver’s side.
“Can we stop for burritos?” Tate whines from the backseat once we get buckled in. “It’s right down the street before the highway.”
“Fine,” I grunt, glancing over at Toby, who’s resting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. I unzip my hoodie,shrugging out of it and draping it over his exposed body. Feeling someone watching me, I glance at the rearview mirror and find Tate smiling back at me.
I immediately stop fussing with Toby and start the engine. “What’s the name of this burrito place?” I ask, ignoring the knowing look in his eyes.
I drop Tate off at his apartment, helping him out and giving a small wave to Daija, who’s standing outside in a fuzzy robe with her arms crossed like a disappointed parent. I texted her a heads-up before we left the club that she needed to help her best friend get inside safely.
When we finally get home, I wrap my hoodie around Toby’s shoulders and sneak him upstairs just in case Jake or Spencer is home. I’m on edge, and I’d probably punch them in the face if they had something to say.
“Your room or mine?” I murmur, having to stop myself from picking him up and carrying him there.
“Mine,” he whispers, and as soon as I lock the bedroom door, Toby begins to struggle with his harness. “Get. This. Fucking. Thing. Off of me,” he growls cutely, his lean muscles twisting this way and that.
I bite back a smile and set the bag of burritos down on his desk, approaching him as carefully as I might a wild animal. “Let me,” I insist, grabbing hold of his biceps to settle his squirming. I carefully undo the buckle between his pecs and loosen the shoulder straps. “Arms up,” I breathe into his ear, sending a shiver down both of our spines.
Toby complies, raising his arms and allowing me to slip the harness up and over his head. “Thank you,” he murmurs,surprising me by bending over and wiggling out of the leather shorts.
I suck in a sharp breath of air, unable to tear my eyes away from the tiny black thong he’s wearing underneath. His package bulges against the silky fabric, stretching it out and showing the imprint of his cockhead. He spins around next, showing off his firm, toned ass that’s paler than the rest of his body.
Fuck me.
What is going on with my head?
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I look away until I hear him crawl into bed.
When I glance back, he’s sitting up, leaning against the headboard and staring at me innocently, like he has no clue what he just did. I glance down at the comforter settled around his lap, knowing what’s underneath and honestly wanting another peek. Shaking the inappropriate thought away, I grab two water bottles from his mini fridge and the brown paper bag, handing him a foil-wrapped burrito and cold water. The bottom of the bed seems like a safe place to sit, so I take a seat and dig in.
“Mmm,” Toby moans, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as sour cream drips down his chin and onto his bare chest.
I nearly choke on the giant bite of burrito I just took, my mind going to dirty, inappropriate places.
“Thanks, Shane,” he says, closing his eyes and chewing with pleasure. “It tastes so fucking good right now. I needed this.”
More creamy white sauce plops onto his chest, and I glance away, unsure why my dick seems to be getting more and more excited by this.
“You’re welcome,” I mumble around a mouthful of beans and rice, letting us enjoy our food and allowing Toby some time to sober up before I say what I need to say.
“So good.” Toby burps, finishing off the last of his water.
When I’m done, I wad up the foil and toss it into the trash can. “So, Toby . . .”
“Hmm?” he hums innocently, sinking further into the bed.
I grab a napkin and scoot closer, dabbing the corners of his mouth and wiping his chest clean. “What the fuck were you thinking tonight?”
My tone seems to perk him up a little. “What do you mean?” his sleepy eyes stare at me, confused.
I grab another napkin and go over the spot again. “You’renineteen, Toby. You can’t just go out and get wasted with guys you don’t know.”
He shoves my hand away. “I can make my own decisions, Shane.”
“Clearly some pretty poor ones, letting guys you don’t know buy you drinks all night. What if someone slipped you something? You can’t be so trusting all the time, Toby.” I never lecture him like this, but he’s got me riled up when it comes to his safety.
