by A. M. Arthur
With Ryan, I felt alive. Without him, something vital was missing.
Our “You’re Never Fully Dressed” duet went over well at his class last week, so I’d volunteered to help again this weekend.
Fridays were usually busy days at LQF, with everyone trying to get their work done before the weekend, so they didn’t have to take anything home. I shuttled from office to office, back and forth to the copy room, making good use of every second of my time. It kept me from thinking too hard about Ryan and our one o’clock date.
At twelve-fifteen I was putting another stack of contract copies on Lacey’s desk when my father’s voice stopped me cold.
“Adam, do you have a moment?” He loomed in the doorway of Joe’s outer office, his expression blank, almost bored.
For a moment, I panicked. Had I forgotten to file something? Copy something? He rarely spoke to me at the office. Hell, he rarely spoke to me on the rare occasion our paths crossed at home. Either he was working or attending to clients, or I was with Ryan. We were strangers living in the same house, working in the same building. Sometimes I felt as valuable to him as his expensive office desk, but he was my father, and all I wanted was for him to be proud of me.
“Of course, sir,” I said.
He paused in the short corridor that separated his outer office from Joe’s. “I’d like us to have lunch at Milano’s when your time ends today,” he said.
I blinked. Hard. “Lunch?”
“Yes. You’ve been home from college for weeks, and we’ve yet to sit down and have a formal meal, just the two of us. I have some free time today, and I’d like to take advantage of it.”
“Okay.” I was too stunned to do anything but accept. I couldn’t very well say I had plans to get fucked in the ass by my gay lover, who was also the guy you railroaded back in high school. And the simple fact that my father was interested in a meal with me, in spending time talking to me only, sent an unexpected flash of warmth through my chest.
“Good.” The matter settled, Father went into his office.
I stared at the corner of Jesse’s desk, barely able to see his shoulder while he typed something. It took me a moment to get my motor going again. I fled to the men’s room on this floor and shot a quick text to Ryan, apologizing for bailing on our time.
No prob. You need dad time. Good luck.
I sent back a heart and smile, grateful for his support. I’d need all the luck I could get to survive this one-on-one with Raymond Langley.
Milano’s was across the street from our building, one of those places that require reservations and ties after 3:00 p.m. I didn’t feel as out of place as I expected. Outwardly, nothing about me had changed. I was still Adam Langley, born with a trust fund and a family name. I wore a suit and tie like most of the other men already seated having a three-martini lunch. And I was with my father, who received polite, personal greetings from the hostess, the server, and two men at a table near us.
Inwardly, I was a different person, and the only one who could see the new me was Ryan.
Dad ordered his signature gin martini, dirty, two olives, while I asked for a diet Coke.
“So,” he said once the server went to get our drinks, “how are things working out with your double life?”
My heart slammed into my ribcage. “Double life?”
“Splitting your time between the internship and the benefit.”
“Oh.” Of course that’s what he meant. I worked to get my racing pulse under control before he noticed my momentary flare of panic. “It’s going very well. I’m getting my hours in at LQF and learning quite a lot from Lacey. She’s an excellent teacher.”
“When she’s at her desk. I swear, pregnant women are useless for anything except complaining and bathroom breaks.”
The familiar words still stung. Lacey was a nice woman, and she really was a great personal assistant for Joe. He’d be lost when she began her maternity leave. Defending her to my father was pointless. His views on certain things made Ann Coulter look reasonable and progressive.
“She’s teaching me the ropes, as are some of the other office assistants,” I said instead. “I never really appreciated how many people keep this company running.”
The server returned with our drinks, and Dad ordered a stuffed mushroom appetizer before she left again. I didn’t miss the long look he gave her ass. The uniforms at Milano’s were basic black skirts (pants for men) and white shirts, so I didn’t see the appeal. Then again, I never really saw the appeal in women’s asses.
Ryan’s ass, on the other hand—
“Adam?”
I snapped to, embarrassed at my wandering thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if you’d decided what to order? I want to flag the server the next time she comes by.”
“Oh, no, sorry.” I skimmed the offerings, then settled on blackened salmon with wild rice and steamed broccoli.
Dad ordered a sirloin steak salad with dressing on the side and stared at the server’s ass again while she walked away. A little part of me that still missed my mom was offended at his blatant appraisal of another woman. But Mom had died six years ago, and I had no illusions that Dad had been celibate for more than a few months after. He’d never introduced me to a girlfriend, but that meant next to nothing. He probably wouldn’t bother until he’d put a ring on her finger.
I tried to see the server as he might see her: average height, thin waist, curvy down below, with big breasts. Blonde hair tied back from her pretty face. She was attractive, sure, in her own way.
Dad snickered and sipped his martini. “Fancy her too, huh?”
Lie and say yes. Lie and say yes, you idiot.
“She’s pretty,” I said. “I like brown hair better, though.”
“So you do have a type after all. I was starting to worry, son.”
“Of course I have a type.” I thought about sipping my soda to stall, but wasn’t sure if my hand would start shaking. “I’m just so busy with school, I don’t have a lot of time to look.” I grabbed the fallback argument. “Plus, you know how hard it is to find a girl who wants me for more than the size of my trust fund.”
“Amen to that.”
Dad had inherited the company from his father, who’d already made a fortune for himself by the time he died of a heart attack at fifty-nine, a year after I was born. Dad’s partnership with Joe Quartermaine sent us skyrocketing. The money was nice and all, but it definitely kept me from making any good, solid friendships growing up—until Ryan.
“You have plenty of time to settle down, Adam. You won’t be twenty-one until January. You still have a year of college left. You’ll find your feet in the dating world soon enough.”
I was glad when our appetizers arrived, because conversation stalled while we ate the cheese and crab stuffed mushrooms. They were delicious—add crab to anything and I’ll eat it—but I barely tasted them, too conscious of all the conversational mines I was stepping over. And we still had to get through the entrees.
“Lucinda says you’re going out more,” Dad said the moment we’d worked our way through the plate of mushrooms.
I took my time drinking some soda, stalling, unsure how to address the unasked question. Lucinda had been our housekeeper since I was a baby, stopping by four days a week to clean and do laundry. For the first few years after my mom died, Lucinda stepped in and made sure I ate, did my homework, and stayed out of trouble. She was there every single day while I recovered from my skull fracture. I loved her, and I wanted to throttle her for paying such close attention.
“I’m not seriously dating any girls,” I replied, “but I’m not a monk, Dad.”
A single eyebrow lifted, then flattened as he smiled. I’d said exactly the right thing and I hadn’t even lied. He’d cheer me on for slutting around with a different girl every night of the week, but if I told him I wanted to be in a monogamous relationship with another man, he’d disown me.
“You’re protecting yourself?”
“A girl who will sleep with a relative stranger once has certainly done it before.”
Oh God, I wanted the conversation to stop. I needed the topic off of my sex life and onto something less problematic. “So how is the Linderman deal going?”
Dad launched into a long tirade on the ins and outs of this particular acquisition, which I listened to with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. He lost a little steam when our entrees arrived, speaking more carefully around bites of his steak salad. By the time we were finished, and he’d drunk his second martini, I probably knew as much about the deal as anyone actually working on it. My eyes might have glazed over a little bit.
The server collected his credit card to process. While we waited, the hostess seated a pair of men at the table next to ours. To the casual observer, they were business associates out for a working lunch—both well dressed, well groomed. Then the man on the left reached across the table and touched the top of the other man’s hand. The gesture was subtle, affectionate, and the second man turned his hand over so their fingers clasped, palm to palm. My stomach burned with awareness.
“Amazing what they allow in here,” Dad said, his voice a harsh whisper I heard but which didn’t carry to the other tables. “I thought this restaurant had standards.”
The warm burn turned into bitter acid. I didn’t have the guts to defend the couple one table over. Dad would have preferred to find a fly in his salad to sharing dining space with a gay couple, and I wanted to run. My only saving grace was that we were a few minutes away from leaving. Had this happened at the start of the meal… disaster.
Fucking coward. You’ll never be brave enough to hold Ryan’s hand in public like that. Never.
One day I would but not yet. I had to get through college first. The biggest issue was whether or not Ryan would wait for me. Was I worth it? Was what we had worth waiting nearly a year, so that we could be together and have a financially stable future? I thought so. I hoped Ryan did too.
I was glaring in the general direction of that couple’s table, and Dad must have misunderstood the whole thing, because he was smiling at me with this “you get what I’m saying” expression that nauseated me.
We parted ways on the sidewalk. Dad went back to work, and I headed for the parking garage. I shot Ryan a quick “I survived” text. He’d be heading into work soon, so we had no chance of seeing each other again until tomorrow’s class at the center. I wanted to see him badly, to talk about all of the fears lunch had stirred up. Fears of the future and my father’s reaction to us. Ryan needed the money, though, and he couldn’t afford to miss a shift because I was having a small meltdown. I could handle this.
I could.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Ryan
Adam was real quiet during class. He showed up late, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him in private. Something was up, and it put a funny little worm in my stomach that kept flipping and turning. He got up and sang a duet with Penny, hit every note right, then sat back down, totally oblivious to the moon eyes Penny tossed his way for the rest of class. He wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t sulking. He just wasn’t there.
He ducked out early too, then sent a text that he’d meet me at my place. The little worm in my gut got bigger. He’d had lunch with his daddy yesterday so—fuck me with a wooden spoon. He was gonna dump me.
I drove home with ice water in my veins, more scared than I’d been in a long time. He was waiting outside my apartment door, and the sight of him made my heart give a familiar little flutter. Every time I saw him I wanted him closer, right up next to me so I could protect him like I didn’t in that parking lot.
“Hey,” he said. He smiled but it didn’t light up his eyes like usual.
“Hey.” I unlocked the door because if he was dumping me it wasn’t happening in the hallway.
I dropped my keys and laptop on the floor by the door, which clicked shut. Then I was slammed against the door and Adam was yanking me down to him. He didn’t kiss me so much as he tried to fuse our mouths and tongues together. I hauled him close, my dick taking quick notice of the action and the pressure of Adam’s thigh against it. He yanked at my hair, like he didn’t know if he wanted to pull me into him or push me away. My mouth flooded with the taste of Adam. My cock filled painfully fast. I grabbed his ass, held him tight, and he pushed into me, his wood riding my hip.
Lord but I could come like that.
Adam wrenched away so fast I thought I’d hurt him somehow. His eyes were bright, cheeks red, mouth puffy, and he stared at me like he didn’t know which part to attack first. I didn’t rightly know if it turned me on or scared me, but it was sexy as hell to see it in him. He took a handful of my belt buckle, hauled me into another stupefying kiss. I let him manhandle me across the living room and into my bedroom.
He kicked the door shut. “Fuck me, Rye.”
The needy growl in his voice shot me in the chest. We wrestled each other out of our clothes, Adam getting more impatient the closer to naked we got. He had me suited and slicked and his ass in the air before I caught up with the program. I should’ve stopped, should’ve slowed things down because none of this was like him, but goddamn I loved fucking him. Loved the way he just bent over for me, elbows braced on the bed, knees apart. Body waiting for me to fill it.
I groaned. Couldn’t help it. I reached for the lube by his head so I could get him ready.
“Just go, please,” Adam said, breathless like he’d raced down the side of a mountain.
I paused, uncertain if this was a good idea. “You sure?”
“Yes. Please, Ryan, I need you in me. Now.”
Holy damn that was hot, and it shattered any kind of control I’d brought to bed with us. I lined up and pushed. He didn’t let me in at first. I rubbed his back and flanks, his ass and thighs, feeling the sweat and the shivering skin. He grunted and made frustrated noises, and I was about to stop and use my fingers anyway when my cockhead breached that outer muscle. I worked in deeper, trying to get in slow. Adam took that away when he slammed backward, taking me all the way in.
The noise he made wasn’t a scream, but it was damned close. I yelled something too, because too hot, too tight, too fast, and it was fucking awesome and terrifying at the same time. I got lost in the sensations, drunk on it, until Adam growled, “Fucking fuck me already.”
The demand startled me into action like a cracking whip. I pulled back and then shoved inside hard enough slap my balls against his. I lost myself in the tight heat, in the needy noises spilling out of his mouth, in the slap of skin on skin. Gripped his hips hard, slick with sweat and getting tougher to hold onto good.
My balls drew up. Electricity sparked up and down my spine, settling deep in my groin. Building bigger, more.
“Harder, damn you.”
I snarled at his command. Leaned over him to grab his shoulders. Pistoned into his ass. His legs trembled. I was so damned close. I reached around to jerk him off, to get him there with me. I grabbed a soft cock and was so surprised I stopped moving. Adam clenched around me, damn him, and I snapped my hips once as I came. The violent orgasm ripped through my cock and balls, more powerful than I’d expected—or deserved, since Adam wasn’t even hard. I felt weirdly ashamed and a lot confused as I pulled out.
Adam rolled onto his side, his back to me, chest heaving. I dumped the condom on the floor, a little dizzy, not a clue what had just happened.
“Adam?” Nothing. Something like dread curled inside me, dark and heavy, like sour molasses. “Hoss?”
He covered his face with both hands. Hell. I curled up behind him and tugged him against me, wrapped my arms right around him. He melted into me, hands covering mine. Little tremors made his arms and shoulders shake. He wasn’t crying, though, just working through something, and I felt awful for fucking him like that.
“This about your dad?” I asked. Had to be. Everything with us was peaches until that damned lunch.
�
��He’ll never love me if I’m gay,” Adam whispered, the words raw.
“Baby, you are gay.”
“I know.”
Shit and damn it all anyway. I held him tighter because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have any words to fix this. I couldn’t make Adam’s daddy any less of an asshole. I couldn’t make it so Adam and I never met up again. All I could do was love him like I always had—only stronger. Better. Be a safe place for him.
Adam
My ass was on fire, my hips and shoulders were sore, and my leg muscles were weak, trembling. None of that was real pain, though, and I held all those sensations tight inside me while Ryan held me in his arms. I’d wanted exactly what Ryan gave me—relief from the tangle of thoughts and fear in my head. A brief respite from the certainty that in the very near future, I was going to lose one of the two people I loved the most in the world.
How in the hell was I supposed to choose?
Ryan shifted his weight, practically crushing me into the bed as he curled around me. I let out a deep, content breath, and some of the uncertainty lifted. This was real. This was right. I didn’t know if I could live without it again—or if I wanted to.
Looks like you already made your decision.
For once, I couldn’t disagree.
Chapter Eleven
Adam
After my mini-breakdown, we were good for a while. We secretly fucked our way through June and into July. My father lived under the delusion that I was catting around, putting notches on my belt until I went back to college and my focus shifted to my studies. He seemed happy living there, so I did nothing to cast suspicion on my actual whereabouts.
My time spent with Ryan was precious. We didn’t date, not in the traditional way. No dinner-and-a-movie nights, unless you counted deli takeout and DVDs. We didn’t go to parties together or walk downtown holding hands. None of that mattered to us. We both understood that every hour we got together was a blessing, and we didn’t take a single moment for granted. Neither of us had said “I love you” but it was inherent in everything we did say or do together.