Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Mickey

The shoe department looked more like a Victorian gentleman’s study than a retail environment. Along the walls, hardwood shelves with inset lighting displayed a dizzying array of shoes as if they were works of art. Comfortable black chairs were arranged in intimate groupings throughout the space, and around those were tables displaying more shoes. The air carried the fresh, crisp scent of cedar thanks to strategically placed bowls of wood chips.

Mickey leaned in close to Spencer and lowered his voice, as if it were a library rather than a shoe department. “There are so many shoes.”

“Baby steps,” Spencer said, catching himself and chuckling at his unintentional joke. “Do you want to start with sneakers?”

Thinking that was as good a place as any to start – at least sneakers felt familiar to him – Mickey nodded and followed Spencer to a table holding a collection of sneakers in neutral colors with clean, sophisticated designs.

Spencer pointed at Mickey’s Converse low tops. “Cons and Vans are great. We all have a pair.” To illustrate, Spencer lifted his foot to show off his red and white checkerboard Vans. “But it’s nice to have something a little elevated, too.”

Mickey considered the different styles on the table and selected a skate shoe in navy suede with white leather stripes on the sides. “I like these a lot.”

“Those are rad. Let me flag someone down to get your size.”

Spencer caught the attention of an attractive middle-aged man dressed in a smart navy suit who was setting up a display near the front of the department. He waved to Spencer and called, “I’ll be right there,” before stacking a few empty boxes behind the register.

The man approached them, brushing dust off his hands. His hair was almost completely silver, but lush and glossy and combed to the side in a neat part. “Good afternoon, I’m Harrison.” His cool grey eyes skated down Spencer’s body and snapped up again. His smile turned wolfish. “What can I do for you?”

Mickey blew out his breath with a resigned sigh. Great. Spencer’s magical sex pheromones work on men of all ages.

“Hello, Harrison.” Spencer trailed his fingers up his flank, lifted the hem of his T-shirt, and idly scratched the exposed skin of his stomach. With rapt attention, Harrison tracked every movement of Spencer’s fingers. “We’d like to try these in a size…”

Both men looked to Mickey.

“Oh,” Mickey said, thrusting the sneaker at Harrison. “Eleven. Please.”

“Certainly.” Harrison took the sneaker with a practiced smile.

“We’re going to look around, pick out a couple more,” Spencer said.

“Take your time.” After a last unabashed leer at Spencer, Harrison made his way to the stockroom.

Mickey snorted. “He was…nice.”

“Sure,” Spencer said with a half-hearted shrug. If he’d picked up on Mickey’s implication that Harrison was shamelessly hitting on him, he didn’t let on. Apparently the man’s obvious interest hadn’t made much of an impact. What must it feel like to have so many men flirting with you that it barely registers anymore?

Deciding to let it go, Mickey walked to a nearby shelf. “Could you help me pick out a pair of boots?” He paused, slightly embarrassed by the admission on the tip of his tongue. “I think men in boots are sexy.”

At the mention of sexy, Spencer’s eyebrows raised. “Now we’re talking.”

They spent twenty minutes browsing the shelves until they’d selected both a sharp lace-up boot and an oxford dress shoe. While they waited for Harrison to return from the stockroom, they took a seat in the fitting chairs.

“Slip off your shoes,” Spencer said.

Mickey untied his sneakers, toed them off, and kicked them under the chair with his heel. When he leaned back in his chair, he noticed that Spencer had crinkled up his nose.

“Oh brother, do my socks smell?” Mickey grabbed his foot and started to lift it to his nose.

Spencer put a hand on his ankle to stop him. “They smell fine.” He gripped Mickey’s exposed pinky toe where it poked out of a ragged hole in his sock and gave it a tiny shake. “Dude, when was the last time you bought new socks?’

“It’s been a while.” He lowered his foot and rubbed the sole against the top of his other foot. “It doesn’t make sense to have a bunch of new clothes. I just muck around with kids all day.”

“I get that. But sometimes you’ve got to dress for you, and not the kids. You know?’

A smile flickered across Mickey’s face. “Got it,” he said quietly. “Dress for me.”

Spencer’s gaze darted to the curtain separating the stockroom from the sales floor. He slipped out of his Vans and shucked off his socks. “Here, take mine.” He held them out for Mickey, who hesitated to reach for them. “They’re clean. I’ve only had them on a couple hours.”

“It’s not that.” Mickey took the socks and set them on his knee. “You’re going to see my hairy feet.”

“So? I like hairy guys. Hurry, he’ll be back soon.”

Mickey quickly changed his socks, and Spencer balled up his old pair and pushed them into the gap between the flowerpot and decorative vase of the nearby planter.

“Thanks,” Mickey said. He motioned toward Spencer’s bare feet. “What about you?”

“I don’t need socks with these. It’s no big deal.” Spencer pulled his sneakers back on. “You have nice feet, by the way.”

“Even with my hobbit hair?”

Spencer knocked his shoulder against Mickey’s. “Yes, Bilbo Briggs.”

Mickey’s skin tingled from their brief contact. He leaned into Spencer until their shoulders were pressed together again, concerned he might be misreading the situation, but wanting more than anything to sink into the pleasing firmness of Spencer’s body. When Spencer didn’t pull away, Mickey risked a glance and found Spencer gazing at him with a fond expression.

“Here we are,” Harrison said, setting the pile of shoe boxes on the floor near Mickey’s feet and ruining the moment. Immediately, Spencer’s attention snapped to the attractive older man.

Harrison took a seat on a rolling stool. “Let’s try these first.” He unboxed the blue skate shoes and used a shoehorn to help Mickey slip them on. After tying them, he wheeled himself back. “How do they feel?”

“Good,” Mickey said. He wiggled his toes inside the shoe. “I think they fit.”

Spencer patted Mickey’s knee twice. “You should take a walk around. Really make sure.”

Mickey walked to the far end of the department, careful to focus on how his feet felt in the shoes. They were some of the most comfortable sneakers he’d ever tried on. Satisfied with the fit, he turned to walk back to his seat but came up short.

Harrison and Spencer had picked up right where they left off, laughing and chatting. There was no doubt now they were interested in one another. Mickey’s stomach sank. Had Spencer suggested he take a walk because he wanted some alone time with Harrison?

Am I just getting in the way?

Disheartened, Mickey took another lap around the department. It was becoming clear that no matter where they went, Spencer would home in on attractive men like a heat-seeking missile. No point in lamenting it. It was his nature. If he wanted to be friends with Spencer, he’d have to get used to it.

When Mickey returned to where they were seated, Spencer and Harrison abruptly stopped talking and turned their attention to him.

“What do you think?” Spencer asked.

Mickey slumped into his chair and pulled the sneakers off, pushing them to the side with his foot. “They fit.”

“They’re an excellent choice,” Harrison said in his polished salesman’s voice. He helped Mickey try on the boots and oxfords, and once they’d determined that everything fit, Harrison began carefully tucking the shoes back into their boxes.

“I’ll get these packed up and meet you at the register.”

“Actually,” Spencer said, “we’re going to buy some socks today, too.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have everything waiting here when you’re ready.”

After flashing a megawatt smile at Harrison, Spencer put his arm around Mickey’s shoulders and led him to the men’s accessories. “Let’s get you dark socks in addition to white. Maybe some black and grey ones for your boots?”

“Okay, sounds good.” Mickey’s voice trailed off. He was trying to pay attention to his conversation with Spencer, but he was distracted by the display of underwear to the right, specifically by the pictures of muscular shirtless men with sculpted pecs and mouthwatering bulges.

“Mickey?”

“Black and grey, yes, great. I’m listening.”

“Are you checking out the underwear models?”

Mickey spun to face him. “What? No.”

“Why not? They’re hot.” Spencer nudged Mickey closer to the display. “Which guy is your favorite?”

Mickey pointed to the model that had caught his attention, a man with dark hair and pale skin, dressed only in a pair of high-cut black bikini briefs.

“What do you like about him?”

“His flat stomach.” Under his breath he muttered, “His nipples.”

Spencer leaned in and whispered close to Mickey’s ear. “What do you want to do to his nipples? Lick them? Pinch them?”

“Spencer, jeez.” Mickey discreetly lifted his bag of clothing to cover the erection growing in his jeans.

Spencer laughed and rifled through the packages of underwear to assess the selection. “I’m going to buy you something sexy. Good underwear is a sex god staple. What do you wear now?”

“Briefs, I guess?”

Spencer’s hands stilled and tightened on a package of boxer briefs. He took a deep breath. “What color?”

“White?”

Spencer groaned. “Oh god, tighty-whities? Okay, executive decision. I’m buying you all new underwear. When you get home you have to throw away all your white briefs. Socks too. If today’s pair were any indication, I’m guessing the rest are way past their expiration date. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mickey said. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of underwear are you wearing today?”

Spencer pushed down the waistband of his jeans, giving Mickey a flash of silky black fabric. “Black briefs.”

“I thought briefs were bad.”

“Nope. Tighty-whities are bad. It’s all about the cut. My briefs are skimpy and tight. They don’t look like grandpa pants. And there’s a mesh panel in front, so you can see my dick.”

“And you just happened to wear those today?”

“Yeah, it’s almost laundry day.”

After a few minutes of browsing, Spencer had put together what Mickey could only classify as an underwear wardrobe: sleek black microfiber trunks for everyday wear, some daring low rise briefs (in black, red, and blue – no white) for special occasions, and two designer jockstraps to satisfy Mickey’s athlete fantasies.

They carried their haul of underwear and socks to the register and let them spill onto the counter. One of the packages glided along the counter and nearly slipped onto the floor, but Harrison was on his way over and jogged the last few steps so he could grab the package at the last minute.

Mickey watched with fascination as something flicked on behind Spencer’s eyes. His movements became slower, more languid, and when he spoke, his voice was deeper. “You’re a good catcher.”

Harrison licked his lower lip. “So I’ve been told.”

He hadn’t noticed before how quickly and effortlessly Spencer could transform his entire persona. As Harrison rang up their purchases, Mickey studied his friend – the way he leaned his hip against the counter, and how he scratched his back so his bicep would flex. He was reminded of earlier, when Spencer casually showed Harrison his stomach.

It’s a performance. He’d spent all day with Spencer, and this wasn’t how he behaved. It was like he was seeing the great and terrible Wizard of Oz, after spending all day with the man hiding behind the curtain.

While Harrison rang up their purchases, he and Spencer continued to flirt and exchange double entendres, each more blatant than the last, but as soon as their transaction was complete, Spencer’s flirty side was neatly packed away almost as quickly as it appeared.

Laden with more shopping bags, they strolled out of the shoe department. Mickey kept his eyes cast downward at the shiny faux marble floor tiles.

“You’re quiet again,” Spencer said. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to go back for Harrison’s number?” Mickey tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but realized he’d failed when Spencer’s eyes went soft.

“I’m not interested in Harrison.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was just flirting. It’s fun.” A smile bloomed on Spencer’s face. “But that’s a future lesson. Here, switch bags with me.” He traded the bulky bag of shoes for the two lighter bags of clothing Mickey had been carrying.

“Why?”

“So I can do this.” Spencer spun in a circle, letting the bags fly out to the side and almost knocking over a mannequin dressed in the latest streetwear. He hummed a recognizable tune and began to sing. “ Mickey is a nanny in San Fran .”

“Is that the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore?”

“ Spencer is his handsome friend, who’s going to help him with a plan. ”

Mickey burst into laughter. “What are you doing?”

Spencer walked backward, pointing his fingers at Mickey. “ Well, it’s you boy, and soon they’ll know you. You’ll have all the men lining up to blow you! ” Clearly proud of himself for coming up with that rhyme on the spur of the moment, his face lit up as he threw his arms around the mannequin.

“Spencer,” Mickey hissed. His face was burning hot, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “People are watching.”

He should have known the attention would only egg Spencer on. Singing even louder, he ran his hands down the mannequin’s body. “ Guys are all around who want to do it! I’ll show you the ropes there’s nothing to it! ” After a pelvic thrust to accentuate the last verse, Spencer swiped the baseball cap off the mannequin’s head. “ You’re gonna get some after all. ” He danced back to the middle of the aisle, spun in a circle, and threw the cap in the air.

“Hey,” an employee yelled as he jogged toward them.

They bolted down the aisle, took the escalator two stairs at a time, and didn’t stop running and dodging other customers until, breathless from laughter, they barreled through the store’s front doors.

Mickey put his hands on his knees, panting, and smiled at his friend. This was the real Spencer. A big goof, who wore mesh underwear for a Saturday shopping trip, gave Mickey the socks off his feet so he wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of a handsome man, and made up a silly song to cheer him up.

He suspected this version of Spencer was special, that this was a side of himself he only showed to people he cared about.

But part of Mickey wanted Spencer to look at him the way he’d looked at Harrison, with lust in his eyes and sex in every choreographed movement of his body.

That version of Spencer seemed to rise to the surface when a man captured his attention.

Mickey wasn’t going to fool himself. He didn’t look anything like Felix, or Devon, or Harrison. Maybe that mattered, maybe it didn’t. There had been a moment when it felt like Spencer had seen him in a different way. As more than a friend.

(You’re far from ordinary, Mickey Briggs.)

He just needed to capture Spencer’s attention.

After today, he might have a way to do that.

Spencer

Spencer stripped off his clothes and slipped into bed, the sheets pleasantly cool against his skin. It was earlier than he would normally go to bed on a Saturday, not quite ten o’clock, but after spending the day with Mickey and coming home to hours of photo editing he was ready to settle in for the night.

Lying on his back with his phone resting on his chest, he scrolled through social media notifications. There were a couple of messages from Grindr. It wasn’t too late to arrange a hookup – on a Saturday night there would be plenty of available men to consider.

But the idea left him cold. Even if he found a guy he wanted to fuck, there was no way he was getting out of bed and getting dressed again. The idea of hosting was even less appealing. He wasn’t in the mood to fall asleep in sheets that were damp from a stranger’s sweat.

His eyes were drifting closed when his phone chimed with a text. It was a message from Mickey, accompanied by a picture of a wastebasket piled high with white cotton briefs.

MICKEY

No more tighty-whities!

Spencer smiled and sat up against his headboard.

SPENCER

The gay men of San Francisco thank you.

Mickey’s next message was another picture – a pile of old, dingy socks with holes in the heels and toes.

MICKEY

That’s all my socks with holes in them. Going into the garbage.

SPENCER

Amazing! Your feet thank you.

The typing indicator appeared and disappeared a few times. Spencer waited, silently encouraging Mickey to say what was on his mind.

When the message finally came through, Spencer was pleasantly surprised. It was a selfie, snapped in front of his bathroom mirror. Mickey was dressed in a T-shirt and a light blue pair of his new briefs. After a few more seconds of hesitation, his question popped up on Spencer’s screen.

MICKEY

What do you think?

Spencer used his thumbs to zoom in on Mickey’s face. He looked so vulnerable, blushing and biting his lip. I think you’re hot. Spencer scrolled lower, drinking in the tantalizing shadow of chest hair visible through Mickey’s shirt. Lower still, to where the stretchy, silky fabric of his briefs hugged every contour of his cock and balls, highlighting an impressive bulge.

SPENCER

You look good. Really good.

MICKEY

Thanks to you.

Now it was Spencer’s turn to hesitate. Where did he want to take this conversation? He could go for funny: I should start a makeover podcast! Wanted to go for lusty: You can reward me by taking off your shirt. But he didn’t want to push Mickey too fast and make him uncomfortable. So he settled for friendly.

SPENCER

I had a great time today.

MICKEY

Me too. Thanks again. For everything.

SPENCER

Anytime.

See you tomorrow morning for brunch?

MICKEY

I’ll be there. Good night.

SPENCER

Good night.

Spencer saved Mickey’s underwear selfie to his gallery and pulled up the picture he’d taken that afternoon outside of the fitting rooms. He chuckled at the anti-theft tag on the sleeve of Mickey’s jacket; he’d have to photoshop it out. At the time, he’d been too focused on Mickey’s face to pick up on that minor detail.

The man’s shy smile captivated Spencer. Normally when he focused on a man’s mouth, it was to imagine how it would look wrapped around his cock. But with Mickey, he was picturing something more tender. Taking him in his arms. Running his tongue along his lower lip, dipping inside his mouth when Mickey opened for him with a breathy moan…

Spencer huffed and shook his head to dispel the fantasy. Feeling around in the dark, he found the cord to his charger and plugged in his phone before snuggling under the covers. He took himself in hand and gave his dick a few tentative pulls. Other than a slight tingle in the tip, his dick refused to respond to his uninspired manhandling. He growled in frustration and rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable.

He imagined Mickey curled up next to him, softly illuminated by the ambient light of the city that filtered through the open blinds, warming the side of the bed that was usually cold and empty. He touched the mattress beside him. Just the thought of Mickey reaching for his hand in the dark gave him the erection he’d been after.

What are you doing to me, Mickey?