Chapter Thirty-Seven

The F and B Situation

Rafe

Despite rarely venturing out of my office at work, I couldn't escape the buzz of gossipy excitement that permeated the air for the rest of the week.

I'd pieced together—from Dan, Larkin, Holt and Taylor—that Frank and Beans had made a daring escape from the building through the air vents. They'd still taken the time to break into Holt's office upstairs and spray-paint an extremely long phallus on the wall, but the tandem bike they rode to work was gone from the parking lot. Holt had already had the locks changed, and the daytime security guard upstairs had been told not to let them into the building, but they hadn't been seen since.

I was relieved. I hadn't interacted with them much, but I was mainly relieved because Dan didn't have to worry anymore. In fact, none of the other wrestlers seemed particularly sad to see the back of them. Holt was stressed because he was suddenly down his double act, and Larkin had told me that he was now ramping up his search to find some new wrestlers for Goliaths.

As long as none of them were into stealing heads, I didn't much care.

Every time I thought about them over the following days, I got a weird spark of recognition that I couldn't place. Eventually though, everything got back to normal as the wrestlers trained for the upcoming shows and Larkin stopped eagerly asking me to retell the story of finding Frank and Beans with Dan's head. He particularly liked hearing the part where I threw a donut.

Corey sent Dan a big fruit basket for his troubles. Holt gave him a crate of champagne and a huge bouquet of flowers to apologise. He also had an extravagant charcuterie platter delivered to his house, and we spent the evening eating meat and cheese and watching a rom com, because Dan had admitted that he loved them.

We'd ‘hung out' every night this week, even Thursday and Friday night, when we got back late after the show. He hadn't stayed over again. I'd wanted him to, but I'd been too nervous to ask.

I was getting worryingly accustomed to sex with Dan. And hanging out with Dan. And just seeing Dan. I tended to latch on to things I knew liked and want to do or watch or eat them over and over again, and I was starting to worry that I was latching on to him.

He'd hate that. I knew he would. This was just supposed to be fun. No feelings outside of friendship and mutual attraction. Nothing deeper. Dan didn't do deeper than that.

Even though he acted like it was deeper than that sometimes. Which confused me.

He was constantly touching and kissing me when we weren't having sex. Hugging me from behind, stroking the back of my head, resting his hand on my thigh and tugging me against him when we watched TV. He kissed me the moment he arrived at my place after work, or I went to his. He started coming over earlier and staying for longer and longer after we were done having sex, before he would finally—almost reluctantly, it seemed—get up to dress. Then he'd kiss me for a long time before actually leaving, always dropping that final sweet kiss on my cheek.

I didn't think he noticed that to anyone looking in from the outside, it would seem like we were dating.

But I didn't say it. Because I knew we weren't. And part of me was scared that if I mentioned it, even in a light and joking way, he'd get freaked out and run for the hills.

Well, run to next door and ghost me.

It pissed me off that I was scared about that. I didn't get scared about those kinds of things. I got nervous, sure, but I didn't shy away from confrontation.

I told myself I was just being smart. I liked to assess situations. Weigh up potential outcomes beforehand so I could set myself on the right course. And I wasn't ready to stop spending time and having sex with Dan yet, so it wasn't prudent to do anything that could negatively impact that.

If I did something ridiculous like start to have deep feelings for him? Sure, I'd reassess. But right now, this was working out fine. It was fine. Great, even. I was pretty sure I'd never had this much sex in my life, and I was getting to try lots of new things.

Like sucking dick, which I really, really liked. The other night, I'd blown Dan on the couch, and midway through he'd removed his head so we could take turns sucking his dick. Watching him do it, feeling his tongue slide against mine as we both licked him, when he caught my mouth in a filthy kiss over the tip of his cock… it had almost made me come untouched. Then he'd told me to put his head on the floor underneath me so I could ride his face while I sucked him off. I'd ended up a trembling mess, whimpering around his cock as I ground my hole against his tongue.

Last night, he'd sucked my dick at a torturously slow pace while fucking me with his finger. I'd seen stars when he finally sped up and made me come, stroking my prostate firmly and making my orgasm last so long it took me several minutes to recover. I may have, during the act, whimpered something about wanting him to fuck me, which had made Dan moan gutturally around my cock and suck me harder.

By the time Monday rolled around again, we'd ended up seeing each other every single night of the last week. We'd also made plans for him to come over again tonight after my friends left, seeing as I was hosting game night this week.

I was in a great mood, so when I went into the kitchenette that afternoon to make myself a coffee—I knew I'd be up late with Dan again—and saw Taylor in there, I gave him an unusually big grin.

"Hey, Taylor."

He blinked in surprise, then beamed back. I was never rude to Taylor—not after my first day, at least—but I wasn't one to start conversations. Definitely not enthusiastically, either.

"Hey, Rafe," he said as I stood next to him at the counter and grabbed the coffee pot. "How's it going?"

I shrugged. "All good. How are you?"

"Can't complain," he said cheerfully, then hesitated. "Well, Holt is getting a little stressed about the"—he glanced behind us and lowered his voice—"F and B situation."

I frowned. "What about it?"

"Fans are already asking why they weren't in this weekend's shows. And why all their posters are gone." He sighed, rubbing his face. "Obviously they couldn't keep working here, but fans don't know what goes on backstage and Holt wants to keep it that way. So he's trying to think of a storyline to effectively ‘write them out.'"

I made a face. "Why doesn't he just—"

"Babe." Holt's voice made me jump and look back over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, clutching the doorframe like he'd just run a marathon to get here. "Hi, Rafe. Babe, what about"—he spread his hands with a hopeful expression—"aliens."

I eyed him oddly as Taylor gave him a slightly nervous smile.

"Um… aliens, honey?"

"They were abducted." There was an unsettling gleam in Holt's eye as he nodded insistently. "They were aliens this whole time. On the run from their home planet or something. Hiding out as professional wrestlers. The aliens found them and took them back."

Taylor and I stared at him in silence.

"Um, great… great idea, hon," Taylor eventually said. Even I could tell he didn't mean it. "But… I'm not sure the fans will believe… It's not all that in-keeping with the storylines we have at Goliaths."

"But I can't think of anything better," Holt whined, scrubbing his face. "Hogbody's shot down everything else. Eaten by mutant sewer rats under the building—no. Corey punched them out of existence—no. Their dicks got tangled together while tandem skydiving—no."

"Why don't you just say they got fired?" I asked bluntly.

Holt stared at me like I'd just suggested he start each show by prancing around naked in the ring and windmilling his dick for the camera.

"Because there's no drama in that!" He flung up his hands again. "Where's the flair ? Where's the intrigue ?"

"Is being eaten by mutant sewer rats all that intriguing?" I asked doubtfully. "It's pretty cut and dry."

Holt snorted and crossed his arms. "What a ridiculous question."

"We'll think of something, hon." Taylor gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his arm.

He huffed. "I still think the rats is the best one. We could… I don't know, carve out some tunnels under the building. Hire some actors to dress in big rat costumes. Offer exclusive tours to people wanting to catch a glimpse of the mutant rats."

Taylor looked a little worried, because Holt was sounding more and more into the idea as he went on. "Um, sweetie, I don't know if—"

"You know…" I shrugged lightly, pouring creamer into my coffee. "If you go down that route, it's kind of like you're trying to capitalise off their deaths."

Holt stared at me blankly. "But they're not actually dead, Rafe."

I shrugged again, leaning back against the counter and lifting my cup to have a sip. And to hide my smile. "It'll seem that way though. Just saying. You don't want people to come for you online."

" Come for me online?" Holt repeated incredulously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Taylor was definitely worried now. "Rafe's right. We don't need a big storyline, honey. We could just say they were let go. Or they moved on themselves?"

Holt huffed. "I'm not telling people they left Goliaths. Why would anyone want to leave Goliaths? It sends the wrong message."

But eaten by mutant sewer rats under the building sends the right one?

I cleared my throat and carefully sidled between them and out of the kitchenette. "Anyway. Good luck."

As I walked back to my office, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text from Neville waiting.

Nev: Will you pick me up on your way home? Tee said she's bringing margarita mix so we're all going to get a cab home after game night. Plus, it means we can talk about the BDD situation before the others get there.

Walking into my office, I set down my coffee and sat behind my desk as I replied.

Me: Sure, no problem. BDD?

Nev: Big Dick Dan. Obv. Your casual neighbours-with-bennies neighbour and colleague.

My mouth twitched as I typed, So he's back to Big Dick Dan, is he?

Nev: Are you denying that it's an accurate descriptor?

I grinned, hesitating for a second before replying with, No. I'll pick you up around six. But I'm still not giving you details, Nev.

Nev: You just confirmed his dick is big.

With a snort, I typed back, As if you didn't know that already from watching him fix my fence in those tiny shorts.

Nev: Does he wear the tiny shorts for you???

My nuts tingled as I imagined it. That actually wasn't a bad idea.

—

When Nev and I got to my place that evening, Dan wasn't home yet. It wasn't like it mattered, seeing as it would be a few more hours before I could even see him, but I was just hyperaware of him now.

On the drive, I'd given Nev a censored and condensed version of what had been happening. That we were still having sex and hanging out sometimes. When I mentioned that we'd seen each other every night last week, he did the thing I hated. The little "Huh."

I'd forced myself not to question it, instead telling him about what had happened at work with Frank and Beans. It'd successfully distracted him, and he was still talking about it while we got the snacks and drinks ready for game night.

"So they kept trying to steal Dan's head?" he asked, setting out two big bowls of tortilla chips.

"Yeah. They kept going on about ‘the perfect head.'"

"Weird." He paused, cocking his head. "You know, that reminds of the Super Eff—"

A knock on the door cut him off. When I went to answer, I saw Teresa, Suki, Abed and Reece on my front porch, their cab pulling away from the kerb behind them. My eyes automatically flicked over to Dan's place. He still wasn't home.

Teresa held up two huge bottles. "Spicy margs!"

I chuckled, stepping back to let them in. "I might have one, but that's it. Got work tomorrow." And my hot dullahan neighbour was coming over later to fuck me.

Well. At least I hoped so. I was going to ask him if he wanted to.

I couldn't wait.

Teresa huffed. "We've all got work tomorrow, Rafeo."

"And it's your right to go in hungover and leaking tequila from your pores," I told her solemnly. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna."

"I plan on exercising that right," she told me as she vanished into the kitchen. "Hey, Nev."

A short while later, we were sitting around my dining table eating nachos while everyone but me sipped their margaritas. I'd opted out of one after seeing how much tequila Teresa added. Just as we were wiping our greasy fingers on napkins and getting ready to play, there was a knock at the door.

My pulse instinctively leaped, like it did every night when Dan knocked on my door. But he knew I had game night tonight, so I was frowning in confusion as I pushed back my chair and stood.

"Who is it?" Nev asked innocently, but I could hear the sly smile in his voice.

I rolled my eyes at him before heading for the hall. "Dunno."

He leaned right back in his seat, balancing it on two legs so he could see through the living room door and into the front hall as I went to answer.

I had no idea how to react when I opened the door and saw a man standing there.

In a skintight black latex bodysuit.

On my front porch.

My mouth fell open as I stared in shocked silence. The guy didn't move, just stood there proudly. Still in a skintight latex bodysuit, on my front porch.

I slowly dragged my gaze up, too stunned to speak. My breath wheezed out of me when finally, I noticed the familiar blue eyes through the latex mask's eye holes.

And within the mouth hole, that crooked grin.

"Hey, kitten," Dan rasped.