Neck and Neck

It was his fucking neck.

Always the fucking neck.

            As if the way Kevin dressed wasn’t enough, the vests and gloves and fitted jackets that made Aleks want to slam him against a wall.

            But no, Kevin had to wear collared button-down shirts, and whenever he would come over to play games or watch a movie or just relax, he’d leisurely undo a button or two, leaving his angular neck out in the open.

            And more often than not, Kevin sat right next to Aleks on his shitty Walmart couch, taut muscles and jutting Adams’ apple teasing Aleks’s peripheral vision. Luckily, Kevin didn’t come over to Aleks’s apartment that often. Visits were months in between, and in Skype calls it was easy enough to open another window to avoid the sight of the way shadows folded over Kevins’ skin just right.

            But then Kevin moved to Colorado.

            It was great, having one of his best friends join the company he’d devoted his life to. Awesome that said friend was moving to the same city so he could do more work in the company. Monumental that they could hang out and chill all the time, like friends should.

            It wasn’t as fun hiding his semi every Wednesday night when Kevin came over for their weekly game night.

            And now it’d been a month since Kevin had made the move, and it was Wednesday again, and Kevin’s apartment was having plumping issues and he still didn’t have a bed, so Aleks had offered to let him stay the night.

            And Kevin was wearing a goddamn waistcoat (seriously, who wore those anymore? And why did it look so good?) over a pristine white button-up shirt.

            And the top three buttons were undone, leaving a long tan line of Kevins skin from jaw to just below the collar bones.

            He’d been glancing at it all night. Kevin had only been over for an hour or two, but Aleks must have watched the muscles work as Kevin swallowed the several cans of Pepsi he’d already drank at least a few dozen times.

            Stiffly, Aleks turned his head forward and tried to focus on the Call of Duty match they were playing, but he could just see Kevin’s hand reach for the can of soda, and one more look wouldn’t hurt…

            “Aleks, what the fuck was that!?” Kevins neck was turning too quickly, and Aleks suddenly found himself being faced down by the younger man. “You were just standing there! You practically let me win! I mean, we’re tied now, so I’m not complaining, but…”

            “Uh—“ Aleks tried to shoo the fog of arousal from his head and turn his body to talk to Kevin properly, but he accidentally squeezed his boner and Kevins’ eyes narrowed as he winced.

            Kevin glanced down towards Aleks’s crotch—Aleks’s hand had flown to the hurt area—then gradually back up Aleks’s body to his face and the apprehension that coated it. He did it again, painfully slow, combing the Russians thin physique with his dark eyes.

            “Are you alright?”

            If Aleks hadn’t been frozen in place, he might’ve shivered—Kevins’ already low voice had deepened with something enticingly dangerous in the subtle shift of his tone.

            “I’m okay.” The words dropped like stones from Aleks’s lips, and Kevin rose an eyebrow as his blank expression gave way to a slight smirk.