RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 12

Landon stared at himself in the floor-length mirror as he fixed the watch on his wrist. Like countless times in the past week, he wondered, was it worth it? To throw away his dignity, his morals—the very essence of what he stood for?

He didn't regret sleeping with Jackson; hell, he didn't regret meeting the pompous youngster despite their difference. At the same time, it didn't help when that son of a bitch kept reminding Landon that he was the reason he took home the trophy in the first place. Now Landon couldn't look at himself anymore without seeing a no-good, two-timing blasted cheater.

He sighed; his shoulders involuntary slumping. Guilt riddled his whole body after the race. So much so that he was eating plenty and sleeping plenty more to quiet the voices at the back of his head that reminded him that he might've won, but he was still a darn loser.

Landon took another deep sigh before he went to fix the button on his grey and orange plaided long-sleeve. To hell. He needed not to think about the Daytona anymore—at least not for the rest of the evening because he promised Jackson dinner, and he'd not like to think about what he lowered himself to while he was eating out. It had been a long time since he had a proper outing since he allowed himself the simple joy to unwind in whatever little things lift offered.

They were supposed to get this dinner the day after the Daytona; however, they'd both been busy with the press, celebrations, and everything in between, so it was safe to say that dinner didn't happen on the next day as promised. Instead, they postponed it until they both got back to Cali, which was just yesterday, a week later than originally planned.

Jackson planned the whole thing despite Landon's promise to take the younger man out. They were going somewhere in Santa Barbara for the evening, though Jackson wouldn't tell him where. All he got this morning was a text message to dress well. Was this well? He reckoned that it was alright. He just hoped Jackson wasn't taking him somewhere too fancy because blue jeans wouldn't make the cut.

The ring of the doorbell snapped him out of his thoughts, and when he looked at the time, he realized it was already 6:05 pm. Well damn, they were already fifteen minutes late since the drive down to Santa Barbara would take at least an hour. The bell rang once more—twice, and thrice.

"Am comin' damnit!" he yelled as he took one last look at himself—smoothing his shirt and slicking back his neatly combed hair—before he hurried down the stairs to greet who he knew would be at the door.

The minute he swung the door open, what greeted him was anything but what he had expected.

Landon stood frozen by the door, completely gobsmacked at the sight of Jackson. For a moment, he couldn't believe it—was this the same youngster he knew and recoiled at? The one who liked to wear pearly chains, silver studded earrings, rings, crop tops, and baggy jeans? Impossible. This wasn't a boy staring back at him... Jackson looked decent, like a mature man—a handsome, strong man at that.

He wore a black suit that hugged his muscular body nicely, and a black tie with white insides, like a gentleman. There were no pearls or silver jewelry, and his hair was combed back and neatly styled, allowing for a single strand to hang down.

Landon knew this wasn't the first time Jackson must've worn a suit, but it was the first time he had seen him in one, and by god he looked handsome as hell.

Suddenly, his insides tightened with uncontained lust. Jackson was making him hot—making his cock strain against his jeans, making his throat dry and his heart race and his scent spiked, and he didn't know how to feel about it. He swallowed, hard.

"Like what you see, old timer? I wanted to look my best." Jackson was the first to speak; his eyes were dark with desire as he eyed Landon from head to toe, and his hands were behind his back.