Dating Rules and Pretty Fools Chapter 7

Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 7

By Laura S. Fox

Gay Erotica

Intended for Mature Audiences Only

This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.

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Chapter Seven – What Boyfriends Do

Big fat raindrops began pelting the windows while Hudson kissed him slowly. The only two things he was aware of at the moment were the increasingly rapid noises made by the rain against the car roof and the way Hudson moved his tongue inside his mouth so unhurriedly as if they had a whole life in front of them to do only that.

That was a lesson his teacher wanted him to learn, without a doubt. Clumsily at first, Otis began to mimic the way Hudson kissed him, going left when he went right, and then the opposite. It made for a peculiar dance of tongues, and one that melded with the beating of his heart and the thumping in his ears, some of which he could only blame on the two Cosmos he had had at Twinlight only earlier.

So this was how people kissed and he had to pay attention. After all, his teacher had been quite clear that not shying away from kissing was essential for him to start dating. But it was difficult to focus on one move or the other as overwhelming sensations threatened to take him over. Hudson made things all the more tortuous as he pinched his chin just a smidge, making him open his mouth wider.

Then, it suddenly stopped. Otis met the dark gaze unflinchingly. The fact that he didn't blink as often as other humans helped under the circumstances because he didn't want to miss one beat, one clue that would make him understand what was truly going on.

"How is it?" Rough voice, gentle tone. Because the man holding him so close was a mix of contrary impressions, impressions he could elicit in those around him.

"The kiss?" Otis asked slowly. His lips were tingling. He felt a terrible need for more of it. Could kissing become so addictive to some that you wouldn't be able to live without it anymore? That was a worrying thought.

"You're frowning. Don't tell me I'm a bad kisser. I might not survive the disappointment."

"Are you addicted to kissing?" Otis inquired, incrementally worrying that as outlandish as that idea was, it had to have an ounce of truth in it.

"You could turn me into an addict," Hudson replied and smiled.

Relief flooded through Otis's system. His neighbor liked to joke a lot, it seemed, when he wasn't all a frown and giving orders and expecting them to be followed to the letter.

"Well? Are you going to tell me or are you going to keep me on my toes?" Hudson insisted.

"About the kissing?" Otis watched closely until the nod of confirmation followed. "I do not have a lot of basis for comparison. Based on what I know so far, you are an excellent kisser."

"Thank you. That wasn't so hard, right?"

Otis shifted in his place. There was something hard, but he couldn't bring it up. It would either make him sound like someone who couldn't keep it in his pants – he had heard that expression enough times to understand what it meant – or as if he was asking for something. Seeing how Hudson asked for nothing in return for these lessons, that would be very rude of him. He opted for a little white lie. "No, not at all. It was very easy. I could follow the steps because you did it slowly."

Hudson had returned fully to his seat, and Otis could take in his manly profile. There was still a smile there. Maybe, after all, he was at least a little bit funny.

"So, it was a lesson?" Hudson asked and looked at him. He reached for the keys, but Otis put one hand on his.

"It's raining quite hard." Out the window, the lights of passing vehicles left luminous trails that faded rapidly into the night. "It's not safe to drive in such weather conditions."

"Especially since I'm such a bad driver," Hudson added and leaned slightly toward him.

He had managed to insult his neighbor. Grandma would shake her head and purse her lips; she had never scolded him but those were pointers that she believed that he could do better than that.

"I am terribly sorry about that," Otis said. "I'm not good with speeding vehicles."

Hudson wrapped one arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "You're so well-behaved, Otis, that I wonder if you're real. To prevent any questions on your part, that's why I'm touching you right now, to make sure."

That made sense. And Otis very much enjoyed Hudson's touch, his large hand so reassuring even through the fabric of the shirt. For a moment, he wondered how it would feel against his naked skin and shuddered. Was it because of the alcohol that he was experiencing such heightened sensations at the mere thought of something like that?

"I have nothing against spending more time like this while we're waiting for the rain to let up."

Talking about the weather was always a safe option for striking up a conversation with a stranger. While his neighbor was no longer exactly a stranger, it couldn't be said that they had known each other since forever, either.

"Summer rains can be unpredictable," he offered politely.

"I believe there's something else that can be called that. Or rather, someone." Hudson looked pointedly at him.

Otis straightened up in his seat. A different type of lesson was about to be delivered, without a doubt. Hudson had said that he wasn't scolding him, and he was counting on that to be the truth. Nonetheless, the part of him that just couldn't let go of waiting for the other shoe to drop – another expression he had noted down for further understanding – demanded to be listened to.

"I thought you were shy, and then I find you in that place. Imagine my surprise," Hudson continued and rubbed Otis's shoulder to convince him that it wasn't really a lecture he was getting right now.

"I intended to work on my shyness," Otis explained. "Going out to a club where young people entertain themselves by drinking and dancing sounded like a way to do that. At the time. I now know that I'm not allowed to go to such places," he added right away, to prove his determination to follow Hudson's advice to the letter.

"Because..." Hudson said slowly. He was smiling again.

"Because I'm not ready to date or hook up," Otis uttered the first thing that came to his mind.

Hudson said nothing for two beats. "That's a good answer, Otis. I'll take it."

He was serious. No matter how weak the dome lights inside the car were, Otis believed that he could read that handsome face well.

***

Interfering in this young man's life in such an intrusive manner was in no shape or form in his job description, and yet, here he was, trying to protect Otis from the likes of Jackie and the people at that club without coming across as an arrogant impossible prick. The most astonishing thing about the situation was the way Otis actually helped him reach that goal without any moaning and groaning, which he had expected from the get-go.

No, Otis placed his faith in him for reasons Hudson couldn't well fathom, and that kind of trust was beyond endearing. It was dangerous if misplaced, and therefore, Hudson very much intended to make Otis understand that he was safe with him. A short look at his pretty neighbor convinced him of another hard truth: danger played on both teams. Never before had anyone placed himself like that in his hands. It felt empowering and more than that.

It felt... exhilarating, a sensation he had seldom experienced in his life. He could easily relate it to what he had felt when having sex for the first time. It was also new, something that settled into his very bones, just as easily as the sight of that gorgeous mysterious blue eye had been etched into his memory forever now.

That was dangerous, too. He had no time for exploring what having such a strange beautiful being in his arms meant. Talking about bad timing. He shook his head as he pondered over it for a moment, and then realized that getting lost in his own head with Otis by his side wasn't truly an option. A part of him, a deep part of him, wanted to assure Otis that he wasn't being neglected and never would be.

"So, have you learned anything of value from your little outing?" he asked. Talking about things other than kissing that beautiful mouth until he could no longer breathe was the safest choice.

"I saw two boyfriends kissing," Otis replied dutifully. "It was quite odd."

"What was?" Hudson was intrigued. "That they were kissing in public?"

"No. One was the bartender. He gave me two drinks for free. The other was a young man named Danny. He caused some drama and called me--"

"What did he call you?"

"It doesn't matter. He thought his boyfriend was flirting with me and got mad. It was all a misunderstanding, after all. It appears that Utah--"

"Who's Utah?" Damn, the investigator in him never slept, it seemed.

"That's the bartender's name. But I don't think that's his real name. Because it would be quite unusual to be called that. Although it's a very interesting name. You won't forget it after leaving the bar."

"Otis is also an interesting name," Hudson said with a small smile, only to see again that expression of innocent surprise on his cute neighbor's face.

"Thank you," came the dutiful reply.

"Go on," Hudson encouraged him. It didn't hurt to learn a thing or two about the bartender. Was he in on the scheme involving the business they were keeping in the back? Or was he just someone playing his part as an employee of the legitimate business?

"Utah accused Danny, that's the boyfriend, of believing that they were in an open relationship, although they weren't. What kind of a relationship is an open one?"

"That's when the two people involved decide to see other people on the side."

"See them for what?"

"Usually, for sexual satisfaction."

Otis pursed his lips and seemed to consider. "Utah said he didn't know. He seemed both upset with Danny but also happy to see him. Why?"

"It must be because he likes the guy and is willing to forgive whatever happened before," Hudson offered his two cents. "Most relationships between people are not this complicated, Otis."

"Ours is very simple. Very straightforward," Otis said, seemingly convinced of the validity of his statement.

"Is that so? What kind of relationship do we have?" Hudson asked.

"You're my teacher, and I'm your student."

"Hmm, it sounds like the premise for an illicit relationship," Hudson said and smiled. Otis was so endearingly cute that he felt the need to play with him like a cat with a toy mouse.

"How so?"

Hudson slid one arm behind the back of Otis's seat and inched closer. His neighbor had such a soft, beautiful mouth. Just looking at it for a moment made his tongue feel like sandpaper. He wanted more of those lips, that pink tongue in his mouth, everything. The rational part of him told him to pull back, look forward, turn the key in the ignition and take Otis home. No, not his home. Damn, who was he kidding? He felt attracted to this young man like he couldn't remember ever feeling attracted to anyone. And it wasn't only sexual, an area where he performed well. No, this time around, he was on shaky ground. It didn't scare him; on the contrary, it was challenging him, making him want more.

"Because of this," he eventually replied to Otis's question and angled his head for another kiss.

Otis pushed his head forward, while the rest of his body still remained stiff. But his mouth was hot and sweet, with a hint of alcohol, and Hudson found himself wanting more. He snuck one hand upward to caress Otis's cheek and then caught his chin to deepen the kiss.

"See?" he asked in a heated voice he barely recognized as his own. "Student and teacher. Kissing. It should be forbidden."

"But it's part of the curriculum," Otis said and gazed at him so candidly that Hudson had to look away or else something inside him would snap like a twig.

"Is that why you let me kiss you? Because of the curriculum?" Why did he sound like a scumbag right now? What did he have to prove?

"No. It's," Otis licked his lips and his eyes went to one side, "because I also find you very attractive."

Hudson felt a jolt of pride and satisfaction. "Oh, yeah?" he said and grinned, mostly to himself.

"Yes, you have a muscular shape and a very good meat percentage by what I can see of your body."

Hudson began laughing. It was good to laugh because it took away from the tension rising in his body; it wasn't the bad kind of tension, but he truly needed to get a grip. "Okay. What else?" he challenged Otis to come up with more compliments about his physical appearance.

"You also have tattoos." Otis pulled at his sleeves and he appeared to shiver for a moment. Hudson could swear his cute passenger was experiencing some pleasant sensations of his own. "They're... what do people say? Sexy. They're very sexy." At this point, he sounded like he was choking on his own breath.

It wouldn't be merciful to continue. Otis was attracted to him, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"What other things do boyfriends do?" Otis asked, changing the topic.

Well, he was the young man's teacher, right? He could give some advice. "A lot of things. Together. Such as going on dates, sharing meals, and so on. And no, open relationships are far from being the norm." Wow, his knowledge about what boyfriends did together was abysmal. Not from a theoretic point of view, but a practical one. Otis had a bad, bad teacher. He didn't have to know that just yet.

Otis seemed pleased enough with the answers he was getting so far. Then, once more, he changed tack. "What do you have against Jackie?"

He had a feeling that saying something such as that man might be part of a human trafficking ring and I'm investigating just that wouldn't be wise. So, he opted for something else. "He's a rat."

"A rat?" Otis seemed abnormally astounded by that characterization of the person in question. "He seems to me more like a tomcat. And he knows how to dance."

"You don't say," Hudson said dryly.

"If Jackie is a rat, what animal are you?"

Good. They were doing some childish quiz. "I have no idea. I haven't thought about it."

"I think you'd be a huge dog," Otis supplied the answer for him. "No. Maybe a wolf. No, that's not good, either. I think you'd be a wolf master," he concluded.

Hudson closed his eyes for a moment. Outside, the rain still raged on. He could play with Otis for a bit longer. "A wolf master?"

"Or just a dog trainer," Otis supplied and giggled. It had to be because of the alcohol still in his system.

"What about you? Are you a kitten, maybe?" Hudson played along. And then, he leaned toward Otis again, eager to smell his scent and feel his body heat. "Or a puppy?"

The mysterious unique eye set on him. "If I'm a puppy, will you put a leash on me?"

Okay. That was enough playing for now. Hudson straightened up and tried hard to ignore the tightness in his pants. This kind of conversation with his innocent, yet very daring, neighbor was very dangerous. As cool as he had been over the last few weeks, all business and no play, being close to this beautiful being was enough, and he was turning into a playful dog. Yes, that comparison was right; he was a complete dog, and a horny one, there was not that much blood left in his brain to keep it functioning since it was busy going somewhere else.

Damn, the image of Otis wearing nothing but a thin leather collar was going to haunt him for many nights. "I think I can drive us both home now," he said and put his hands on the wheel.

***

His eyes kept closing. He didn't realize that he was resting his face against the window inside Hudson's car until he was shaken gently to wake up. "I'm not sleeping," he said right away.

His denial was met by a low chuckle. Was that how sexy people laughed? He needed to work on that, too.

"Not yet. But you will be soon. In your bed," Hudson said, as if he needed to use that much redundant information.

"Yes, in my bed," he repeated in a perfunctory manner.

The rain had turned into a soft drizzle, so he shuddered after he got out of the car. Hudson threw an arm around him and pushed him gently toward the apartment building. "Sorry, I don't have an umbrella."

"Summer rains are unpredictable," Otis murmured and then realized that he had repeated what he had said earlier, like a parrot. Maybe his animal alter-ego was some creature between a crane and a parakeet. That would explain certain things.

"Come on, puppy, before we get wet," Hudson urged him on and breathed warmly over the crown of his head.

As they stepped into the elevator, it felt as if meeting his new neighbor had happened long before and not only a few days ago. That was an odd feeling, certainly not unpleasant, but unexpected nonetheless. He sensed his lips quirking into a smile, as his body still felt partially boneless because of the last traces of alcohol in his system, without a doubt.

"Something funny?" Hudson leaned into him, crowding his space.

According to books on human behavior which he sometimes read to get more in touch with humans in general and understand them better, that kind of move could easily be interpreted as intimidation and a sort of territorial display. The elevator space definitely didn't qualify in any way, shape or form as Hudson's territory, and Otis didn't feel intimidated, either. So, it had to be something else.

"I was thinking that it feels as if I've known you since forever," Otis replied honestly. "Isn't that strange?"

Hudson caressed his cheek briefly. "You know what?" he whispered. "I don't think it's strange at all."

The elevator stopped at their floor that moment, interrupting their conversation. Hudson stepped out and held the door for Otis, who followed with a polite nod and murmured thanks. His grandma would have liked Hudson a lot, despite his scary tattoos and overall rough demeanor. It had to be one of those cases when the old adage of not judging a book by its cover held more truth than usual. However, Otis had to say that he liked the cover just as much and breathed in Hudson's scent while moving past him.

A low chuckle coming from the other made him giggle again. The way Hudson did that was tickling him on the inside. He'd have to learn that trade. It was impossible for men not to fall at Hudson's feet if they only heard that sound. Wasn't it nice to be that attractive? Still, Otis had high hopes of his education. Some skills could be learned, right? Especially from an excellent teacher like his dangerous-looking neighbor.

Hudson escorted him to his door, pressing a hand against the small of his back, a simple gesture that felt so comforting. They stopped in front of it, and Otis began rummaging through his brain for the right words to say as goodbye until their next encounter.

Once more, Hudson showed who was the more experienced in dealing with humans in general, and such situations in particular. He moved closer, tipped Otis's chin up gently, and kissed him featherlike. "Good night, Otis. Don't let the bed bugs bite your lovely ass."

Wow. He had no words. If he told someone – a potential date – the same words, would that date swoon the way he felt like swooning at that moment? Hudson's touch lingered as the man moved away, still looking back at him over his shoulder a couple of times before he reached his door.

"Good night," he said loudly and waved, realizing that he hadn't said one word back, which was a very impolite thing to do.

Hudson smiled at him and winked before stepping inside his apartment. Otis waited until the door to 505 closed and then hurried into his place. He had a lovely ass, according to Hudson! He hadn't thought of that part of his anatomy in such terms, but if a man like that praised his behind, it had to be at least a little true.

Otis pressed his back against the closed door and allowed the rush of pleasure to course through him. Ah, now he remembered. He stared into the large mirror he had left there, just leaning against the wall and said, "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"

He giggled as he noticed how flushed his face looked. Of course, he should have asked something like that, but, in the heat of the moment – and heat was a very good word to describe the situation because he felt hot all over now – his memories of such phrases must have gotten all jumbled.

He had to buy coffee and figure out a way to make it with his meager means for preparing anything in his apartment. Or he could make it at work and then store it in a thermos and bring it home. He would make a fresh cup every day and take it home until Hudson said `yes' to that question.

Or he gathered enough courage to ask it.

***

Hudson had to shake his head several times to get away from the avalanche of pleasant sensations that had taken both his body and mind by storm ever since he had put his hands on his beautiful neighbor tonight. What was he truly doing, getting Otis all mixed up with his investigation?

But that wasn't what was truly happening, was it? That damn Jackie had to try his luck by trying to lure Otis of all people to that den of iniquity, and left him with no choice. Yeah, he snorted at himself, rationalize more. If he were completely honest – an ability that he appeared to be incapable of lately – he could protect Otis without kissing him and telling him how beautiful he was.

Easier said than done, right? Hudson felt hard-pressed to explain the situation to himself. If Otis weren't so endearing, so innocent, and so willing to fall into his arms, things would be completely different. But beggars can't be choosers. Another rationalization. Great. If that made him a beggar, he was one lucky mofo, because it definitely felt like someone had just dropped a million-dollar check into his lap.

He pressed his forehead against the door and groaned. He needed to get his head screwed on right and fast. There was an investigation that wanted him, no, needed him to be on top of his game, and it had to be now that the most beautiful person in the world had chosen to step into his life.

He walked into the room and took in the BDSM paraphernalia on the wall, waiting for the dark images from the case file to flood him and erase every trace of the overwhelming pleasure he had felt while kissing Otis only earlier. The whips, the paddles, the muzzles and the leashes seemed nothing but inert objects that tonight failed to elicit anything of the kind in him. Actually, it was the opposite when he happened to look at a thin strip of leather, which he touched gently. How would Otis look if he were to play the puppy-in-training part?

He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. He would try his damnedest not to picture his pretty neighbor in such a getup. Because that was an off-limits fantasy. Yes, definitely.

***

"How's your stomach?" Missy asked him as soon as she saw him at work the next day.

"My stomach is fine," Otis replied, wondering why his friend was asking him about that in particular.

"Maybe those drinks didn't agree with it," Missy said and leaned into him. "Me, I got a little smashed. Jackie had to carry me home."

Jackie, according to Hudson, was a rat. Not a cute mouse like a cartoon character, but like a pest. Otis didn't know how to tell Missy that. Rats could be dangerous; they could bite and, depending on the century, give you the bubonic plague. Sure thing, Jackie wouldn't bite Missy, because that would be a ludicrous scene.

"You know, that boy is smitten with you," Missy continued. "He kept on blabbing how disappointed he was about not seeing you before you left. And he wasn't the only one. Hey, you know Utah said that you disappeared with a tall tattooed stranger? I thought he was just pulling Jackie's leg to see him squirm, but now that I think about it... did you hook up last night, Otis?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"No," Otis said and felt a bit disappointed over it. He would have hooked up if Hudson had offered. What was he thinking now? He shook his head in horror. That kind of behavior made him into a... He didn't know the right word for it. Maybe he could ask Missy, but that didn't feel like the right thing to do, either.

"What about the tattooed stranger? Was Utah talking out of his ass?" Missy nudged him playfully.

Otis snickered. No one could talk out of their asses, but it was a funny thing to imagine. "That was my neighbor."

Missy stopped for a moment and her mouth formed a perfect O. "Your neighbor? Do you mean, THE neighbor?"

Otis could stop her and explain that Hudson was one neighbor of many, but she seemed too excited to listen to such explanations. "Yes, the one with the tattoos. Who I kissed," he added. "In the past. Last night, he kissed me."

Missy began fanning herself rapidly with her hands. "Wow, wow, wow, Otis, slow down, this train's moving too fast." What train? "I mean, anyone would look at you and sees this prim and proper dude who you'd take home to momma, and you're actually a total vixen."

He would prefer to be a puppy and get properly trained by Hudson with the help of a leash. And maybe... squeaky toys? Or treats? He shook his head again, afraid that Missy might read such thoughts on his face.

"And? After he kissed you, what happened?" Missy asked, apparently unaware of whatever was going on through his head.

"He escorted me to my door, although that's not very far from his door, and said `good night'. After he kissed me one more time, very briefly. Also, he mentioned bed bugs, although I should have told him I don't have those. My apartment is clean, and I do the laundry every week."

Missy shrieked so loudly that he cringed. "He took you to the door and kissed you goodnight? O. M. G., Otis, how did you find this guy? He's a total gentleman. How could he let a little scrumptious thing like you get away without a scratch?" Were there people who scratched others for fun? Otis felt his head swimming with new information, as his co-worker continued her tirade. "Don't tell me. Is he straight? Or bi, at least? Because if he is, and you don't introduce me to him, I will hate you forever."

Otis had no intention to bring Missy's wrath upon his head, and he also needed to be honest. "I don't think he is interested in women. Even his work is about having men over all the time."

That seemed to confuse Missy even more. "What is he doing with them? Oh, don't tell me. I hope he's not a manwhore. You know, one for cash."

"What do you mean by that?" Otis asked, now interested in tapping into the well of knowledge that Missy seemed to be.

"You know. A guy who sleeps with people and gets money for it. Gay for pay, my sweet innocent friend," she added and laughed.

"Oh, no. He pays people. Not to sleep with them, but to take pictures. He has a couch for it, too. And many interesting things on the wall." Otis was, indeed, very much interested in those things on the wall. Not only the leashes, now that he thought about it.

"Wow, a real casting couch?" Missy asked, adding even more information to the things he needed to understand. "Did he ask you to pose for him?"

"No. I don't believe that I'm in the same league," he used the phrase clumsily hoping that it was correct, "with the men who visit him. They are all attractive. And they tend to have a good meat percentage."

"Meat percentage," Missy said slowly as her eyes fogged up. "Ah, you mean, muscles?" She caught her left bicep with her right hand to make a point.

"Yes. Some have big muscles. Others, not so much, but they're still handsome," Otis explained.

"Your neighbor is a very interesting fellow. And it looks like he's big into courting you," Missy said and flashed a huge smile at him. She gave him two thumbs up.

The door opened and Mr. Smith was there, glaring at them. "What are you two doing, chatting like two mindless birds? Get to work."

"Right away," Missy said brightly.

Ever since he had started waiting on tables, Mr. Smith had changed the way he treated him. He was no longer made of glass, and the manager treated him just like he treated Missy. Otis was glad about it. That kind of thing made him feel normal, like he was as much a human being as any other.

Was Hudson really courting him? No, what was he thinking? Missy didn't have all the facts. She didn't know that Hudson was actually his teacher of dating rules.

TBC

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