Page 82 of Overeager
Eli allowed it for probably longer than he should have, all limp and boneless from his orgasm, and then he was scramblingout from under Noah with a yelp, trying to tug his shorts on and straighten his hair at the same time.
Noah, moving much slower as he waited for his knot to go down, still somehow managed to get dressed before him, in his own swim shorts and tank.
“How do I look?” Eli asked hopefully, once they were both clothed.
He looked freshly fucked, was what he looked like. His pretty brown eyes were still a little glassy, his lips were red and kiss-bitten, and his hair was still in full bedroom mode.
But he was nervous enough, so Noah grinned easily. “You look gorgeous, baby.”
It was the truth.
The doorbell rang, and Eli waved him on. “You get it. Let me grab a shirt.”
Noah made his way out of the bedroom and over to the front door before opening it to find Spencer on the other side, tanned and toned and already shirtless, wearing the tiniest swim shorts known to man—they even put Eli’s little pair to shame. Chase was right behind him, his short-sleeved button-down hanging open and his hat flipped backward.
Spencer took one look at Noah and cackled. “You just got laaaaaid,” he sang out.
Noah hauled him inside with a hand on his shoulder, giving Chase a much gentler pat in greeting. “Dude. Shut it. Don’t embarrass Eli.”
“Me?” Spencer asked innocently. “Never. Eli loves me.” At the sight of the man in question, Spencer perked up even more, yelling out, “Eliiiiijah,” in the same singsong tone.
And, sure enough, Eli grinned at him shyly, looking more adorable than anyone had a right to. “Spencer. Chase. You’re right on time.”
“Damn straight.” Spencer tossed the bag he was carrying into Noah’s chest, loping over to Eli. “Never catch me running late to a pool party. Your house is sick as fuck, by the way.”
“Thank you!” Eli tucked his arm into Spencer’s, leading him on an enthusiastic tour that would no doubtnotinclude the main bedroom.
Those two got on weirdly well, opposites as they were. Eli had a way of taking Spencer’s energy at face value, never getting offended by Spencer’s over-the-top antics. And Spencer seemed to take comfort in Eli, in his warmth and steady presence. He hadn’t had a lot of that in his life so far.
It was sweet, even if it sometimes made Noah want to push Spencer into a wall, just to get his boyfriend back for a damn minute.
The rest of the guests arrived within the hour, first Faith and Liz, and then finally Ash and Ryder. It was a small group for a party—Noah and Eli were still a few weeks away from being allowed to be officially official—but it felt right. Faith made ridiculously strong margaritas for everyone, and Spencer had brought enough pool floaties to equip an army.
By late afternoon, they were a mellow, sun-fucked group, sleepy from the heat and the alcohol. Noah was half dozing in a lounge chair, listening to Eli, who was on the pool steps with Faith, telling her about his upcoming meeting. “I was shocked Professor Burke even agreed.”
“Professor Burke?”
Noah opened his eyes to find Chase sitting upright in his flamingo floatie, almost tipping over in the process, his margarita sloshing in its plastic cup.
“Yeah.” Eli twisted to include Chase in the conversation. “Killian Burke? He’s a stats professor.” He cocked his head at Chase, reading his expression. “You’ve had him?”
“Last semester.” Chase took a gulp of his margarita. “He’s, uh, meeting with you?”
Eli nodded eagerly. “He’s published a few books already, the sort of ‘academic lite,’ accessible thing I’m aiming for. Different subject matter, of course, but I think it still might be helpful to pick his brain about the publishing process.” He bit at his lip, admitting, “He’s always intimidated me though.”
Chase tilted his head, about to say something, but Noah interrupted before he could help himself, pointing at Chase’s neck, at the telltale splotch he’d somehow just noticed. “Chase Adler, is that a hickey on your neck?”
“What?” But Chase slapped his free hand directly over the distinct bruise, giving himself away. Noah wasn’t sure how he hadn’t already noticed it—he guessed he’d been too busy soaking in the vibes of the party.
“Yeahhh,” Spencer drawled from his unicorn floatie, tearing himself away from staring at Ryder’s thigh tattoos—dude was not subtle with his appreciation—to pout in Chase’s general direction. “He’s definitely fucking someone. And he’s being just as cagey as you used to be.”
Noah almost joked about Chase sneaking around with another professor, ridiculous as the thought was, but he didn’t get a chance, as Spencer was still lamenting, “No one’s ever home anymore. Just me, all by my lonesome.”
Chase blanched. “That’s not—”
“We’re there sometimes,” Ash broke in, frowning at Spencer like he was legitimately offended by the omission. He was sharing a floatie with Ryder, their combined weight pushing it deep enough into the pool that they were more submerged than not. “You’re notalwaysalone.”
“Yeah.” Spencer shrugged, sipping at his beer with a cagey half smile. “I guess that counts. Sort of.”
