by Raythe Reign
“This is the bathroom, by the way in case you need it,” the bartender called, his voice echoing against the metal, as Liam heard the water running from inside.
Liam’s gaze paused for a moment on another area of the apartment that seemed to be set up for art though the implements were dusty and looked like they hadn’t been touched in some time. There was an easel and a few canvases with their fronts leaning against the wall. He saw a huge lump of clay that had been allowed to dry out instead of being used to create pots or sculptures abandoned on the center of the floor. There were pads of drawing paper scattered on the ground along with large containers of colored pencils, chalks and paints.
Looks like he was an artist at some point, but has hit a dry spell. Explains his touchiness when I asked if he was an artist earlier. Yet he hasn’t tossed them away. It seems like he can’t quite let go of art just yet. Liam’s lips pressed together. Will I find a similar state to Cameron’s art things? Unused? Forgotten?
The bartender had exited the bathroom at that moment and when he saw where Liam was looking, he said simply, “Ghosts.”
There was something so fragile in his voice and smile that had Liam looked away from the art materials and vowed not to mention them again or even glance at them. They were ghosts. Ghosts of a past life? Who knew?
He picked up the Corona and took a long pull of the cold beer. The bartender kicked off his boots and curled his socked feet beneath him on the sofa cushion. He sat so that he was facing Liam. Liam twisted in his seat, one knee coming up and resting on the sofa with his arms spread along the sofa’s back and arm so he could see the bartender, too.
“Okay, I need a name for you,” Liam said, his lips twitching with a smile.
“Why? Names are overrated,” the bartender said though his eyes flickered away at the last as if it were a lie.
“I can’t keep calling you ‘the bartender’ in my head,” Liam explained. “It’s starting to sound like some kind of title for a gangster. Like Jimmy the Knife. You would be Jack the Bartender.”
“Who slays his enemies with broken beer bottles?” The bartender’s eyes danced with amusement.
“You have many enemies?”
The question had been meant to come out light, but the bartender flinched. It was a small movement, but enough of one that Liam caught it. Who could hate this guy? Who would be his enemy?
I don’t know him. I don’t know his past. He could have a ton of baggage. Maybe he was in a gang at some point …
But looking at that angelic face Liam simply couldn’t believe that the bartender had ever run with a bad element. His looks alone would have put him at a huge disadvantage. He appeared delicate though he clearly was nicely muscled. All in all, he appeared more like someone who had been wounded instead of doing the wounding.
The bartender picked at some of the loose threads on the back of the couch. “I just have this thing about my name. See, you remind me of someone.”
“I do?” Liam felt the familiar old flare of fear that he could be recognized, but shoved it away. His mother wouldn’t have believed he was Liam Blake even if he confessed it to her face. The magic held sway.
“Yeah.”
More picking. Liam reached over and covered that nervous, plucking hand. The bartender stilled for a moment, but then he turned his hand over so that they were palm to palm. The bartender’s hand was soft. Liam’s were rough and callused from sword work, but the other man didn’t seem to mind. His fingertips lightly ran over Liam’s toughened skin as if it fascinated him.
“And if you tell me your name …” Liam began the sentence, hoping the bartender would finish it.
“This guy you remind me of would say my name in a certain way. If you say it differently …”
“It’ll break the illusion that I’m him?” Liam suddenly realized. He was slightly wary again because the bartender had chosen his real name, but it was just a coincidence. The magic held sway. This young man could not be pretending he was Liam Blake.
The bartender’s blue eyes flickered up to his and he bit his lower lip for a moment. “Does that weird you out that I’m drawn to you because you look like someone else?”
No more odd than the fact that I’m drawn to you and yet I know nothing about you.
“It’s given me a leg up with you so I don’t mind.” Liam took another sip of beer.
“You’re gorgeous,” the bartender said without shyness. “You could get most anyone you want, I’m betting. This is just my … kink that you look like this special someone. I don’t normally even tell people about it, but there’s something about you … I don’t know. You’re easy to talk to. Just like he was.”
“Was?”
A flicker of darkness in those crystal clear blue eyes. “Yeah. He’s gone now.”
It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it any longer. Liam didn’t want to poke old wounds. Seeing Peter Stanley and thinking about Reginald Fox had opened enough of his old wounds that he was in no rush to open the bartender’s.
“So that’s why you don’t want to give me a fake name either? Because it will ruin the moment as well?” Liam asked.
The bartender looked down at the couch and nodded. “Exactly. So I’m just going to be like Racer X tonight.”
“You like Speed Racer?” He and Cameron had both loved that show. Cameron had pretended to be Speed while he had played the part of Racer X, except instead of keeping his identity a secret he had come clean after saving Speed from another villain of the week. Then they had gone off to have their own garage and live happily ever after.
Now I’ll really get to play Racer X, but Cameron won’t know he’s Speed.
“Oh, hell, yes! I even liked the new movie that the Wachowski brothers made. I’m probably one of the ten people who did,” the bartender enthused.
“An older brother that must hide who he is to save the younger one? That aspect of it always spoke to me,” Liam said with a faint smile.
In the movie version though, he had felt a definite sexual vibe between the two brothers when they were adults and that had caused him to feel … uncomfortable. Not that he had ever thought of his ten-year-old brother like that! It was more the idea of how they would live together when Cameron grew up. There was something in that which seemed strange for him to want, yet he had. He still did.
The bartender was looking at him so searchingly then as if he had said something very right or perhaps very wrong. Finally, he looked away as he grabbed his beer. “A perfect big brother. Always there even when he wasn’t.”
“He was hardly perfect,” Liam said.
“He made mistakes, but he loved Speed, right? That was pure and good. That made up for any errors in judgment. That made him perfect,” the bartender said.
Liam hardly wanted to argue that point. He wished he had been the perfect older brother, but in comparing himself even to a cartoon character he was feeling a bit like maybe he was far less than he should have been. After all, unlike Racer X, he certainly hadn’t been if continuing to take care of Cameron from afar. He had run out on his brother after probably the most horrific moment of Cameron’s life. Nafari’s words on what he would do if his family were still alive came back to him.
I shouldn’t have left Cam. Even if I could never reveal who I was, I should have been there. I should have tried to help him from the sidelines. I shouldn’t have let the “rules” hold me back.
He had always called his brother “Cam”. For everyone else it was “Cameron”. His younger brother only allowed him to shorten it. It was a special nickname between them. His throat felt tight and dry. He drained the rest of his beer.
“Do you want another one?” the bartender asked.
“No, no, I’m … yeah, actually, I could use another one. But don’t get up. I know where the refrigerator is.”
“Best part of this apartment is you can see where everything’s at. Worst part, too, as you can also see that I’m not exactly a neat freak.” The bartender g
ave him one of those high wattage smiles that soothed the pain that suddenly suffused Liam.
He got up from the couch and looked at the other man’s drink. The bartender had hardly touched it. “Be right back.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Liam strode over to the refrigerator. His heavy leather coat suddenly felt like it was weighing him down or maybe it was his invisible wings. How could he be a Valkyrie, a brave warrior, when he had run away from the one person who meant the world to him simply because he couldn’t be the same person to Cameron anymore? He opened the refrigerator door and saw literally the six pack of beer and some old Chinese food cartons. Nothing else. Not even condiments.
He’s not taking care of himself. This isn’t right. He asks a nameless guy up to his place. He won’t give his own name. He looks like a freaking angel. How many times has has he done this? How many times has he been hurt? Does he want to be hurt for some reason?
The unused art supplies suddenly haunted him. The bartender’s soft gaze and warmth haunted him more. Liam grabbed a second beer and shrugged off his jacket. He laid it over the back of the couch and sat down again. He looked at the bartender openly.
“What do you need?” he found himself asking. He felt the weight of the bed over the bartender’s shoulder, but, suddenly, he decided that wasn't going to be a part of the evening. He wasn’t going to lose himself in this young man’s pliant body, not unless he knew that this wasn’t going to hurt him more.
The bartender blinked. He looked down at his mostly full beer and back up at Liam. “Uhm, I’m good.”
“No, you’re not,” Liam said quietly.
There was a flash of panic in those blue eyes as if he had seen too much. The panic was quickly quashed as the young man clearly didn’t want to show weakness. “Let’s put it this way, I’m as good as I’ll ever be.”
“When I walked into the bar tonight I was – I was avoiding some pain of my own. When I saw you …” Liam paused and he couldn’t help the smoldering look he gave the bartender. The other man was so gorgeous and pushed every protective instinct he had as well as aroused him as easily as breathing. “When I saw you I felt that I could forget all that for a while.”
The bartender quirked a smile. “Me, too.”
Liam lightly ran a finger down the bartender’s cheek. The other man’s eyelids fluttered shut for a moment at the touch and he turned his face into Liam’s hand. His skin was so soft. No razor burn. Likely didn’t have to shave often unlike Liam who would grow a beard as thick as Thor’s if he didn’t shave twice a day. It was a strange thing to be dead and immortal yet still have things like hair grow.
“I don’t want to use you, Speed,” Liam said gently.
Those blue eyes fluttered open. “Speed?”
“Yeah, you’re not Racer X in this story.” Liam smiled. “You’re the younger brother type. At least in relation to me. So I just can’t do it. I can’t use you. Won’t. If you were my little brother I would kill a jackass like myself for coming up here.”
There was something so strange in the bartender’s reaction to his words that Liam almost laughed out of sheer uncomfortableness. Again, it was like he had the absolute right and wrong thing at the same time. The young man suddenly slid along the couch until there were only inches between them. One of his arms curled behind Liam’s neck and his skin prickled at the touch.
“You took off your jacket,” the bartender said softly. “You want to stay.”
“I took it off so that you knew I was staying to talk. That I wasn’t just going to make this speech and leave because we weren’t going to bed,” Liam said firmly and he removed the young man’s hand from his neck even though part of him was cursing himself loudly.
“I don’t want to talk.” He was pouting. It was rather adorable. Liam let out a bark of laughter which had the young man’s eyes narrowing. “You asked me what I need.”
“Yes, I did,” Liam said, remembering the bare refrigerator.
The bartender was suddenly in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, sweet breath gusting against his lips. Those blue eyes were alight with desire and mischief. “I need to go to bed with you.”
Liam’s hormones, or whatever they were now that he was immortal, surged to life. Heat built in his loins. His hands slipped around those narrow hips.
“Speed,” he warned huskily.
“Racer X,” the bartender laughed and ground down on his already prominent erection. “It’s okay. I really want this. Need this. Let me pretend you’re him. Although … you seem pretty damn awesome just as you are.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Liam whispered.
The young man carded his fingers through Liam’s long hair, his gaze locked on Liam’s, unblinking. “This won’t hurt me. It helps me feel alive again.”
A million questions ran through Liam’s mind. A million objections to doing this followed thereafter. Yet he believed what the fragile yet strong young man in his arms was saying. He needed this. So did Liam. It made him feel alive. Liam needed to grasp life, too. To remember what it was like to be a part of this world instead of above it.
“This is such a bad idea,” Liam murmured.
“No, it’s a great idea. You won’t regret it,” the bartender said.
“I’m more worried about you regretting it.”
Those blue eyes widened with pleasure and surprise. “I won’t. Believe me. I think … I think this will be just perfect. Please.”
It was that “please” that undid Liam. He was moving before he could think. His hands slid up the young man’s back, pushing his t-shirt out of the way and touching the hot flesh. He then raked his fingers down the length of the young man’s spine. The bartender shivered with pleasure. His eyes were hooded with desire.
“Your skin is like silk. So fine,” Liam whispered.
The young man leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was full of desperation and a kind of hungry fury as if he feared Liam would be yanked away from him at any moment. This stemmed from whatever pain had happened to the young man long ago, the pain that still haunted him. Liam gentled the kiss. He stroked his tongue against the young man’s slowing, moving it in a strong luxuriant slide to show him what he liked and to quell the young man’s desperation. All the while his hands moved into the bartender’s hair, feathering the soft curls between his fingers. He tilted their heads so that the kiss could deepen. He felt the bartender shiver against him. When they broke apart, both of them were breathing hard even though Liam didn’t need to breathe.
“That was …” the bartender gasped out. His pupils were huge, blown wide with pleasure now. His pink mouth was wet and parted. “If you fuck like you kiss …”
Liam kissed him again. He sucked on the bartender’s lower lip, raking his teeth along it when he pulled away, leaving the young man panting and digging his fingers into Liam’s shoulders.
“Big brothers have to be the best at things they teach their little brothers, don’t they?” Liam’s voice was a low growl. He couldn’t believe he said such a thing, but the other man reacted positively.
Those blue eyes went wide then hooded. “Yeah, they do. Little brothers need that instruction.”
Arousal, forbidden and hot as magna, coursed through him. He knew he would feel deep shame when he did see his beloved Cameron later, but this was just a fantasy. Just once he would allow himself to have it. He prayed that Odin was not having Huginn and Muninn watch this particular part of Midgard right now.
“Big brothers don’t like sharing though. So maybe I’m teaching you just for me,” Liam husked out.
The bartender’s hands tightened in his hair. “Maybe I like that idea. Maybe I don’t want to be with anyone else either.”
A flare of heat followed by shame coursed through Liam as those words had his cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans, but he ignored the shame. He was hurting no one doing this. It was a fantasy that he would never allow himself again. But for now he would.
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br /> The bartender reached down between them and grasped the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up and over his head, tossing it somewhere out of sight. The young man’s bare chest was everything that he thought it would be. Lean and muscled with cinnamon colored nipples that were already peaked in the cool air of the room. Liam trailed one finger along the hills and valleys of the bartender’s stomach, which had the young man sucking in a deep breath and the muscles fluttering when he let it out.
Liam could not look away as the bartender then popped open the button of his faded jeans and the top of his dark blue boxer briefs were revealed. Liam’s mouth watered. He kissed down the young man’s chest, leaning him back so that he could kiss the tender skin that had been behind the button of those jeans. The bartender gave a gasp.
“You’re strong!” he laughed.
Liam realized he was literally holding the young man up in a horizontal position with one hand under his mid back while the other was under his ass. His immortal strength was showing. To counteract this, he gently lowered the young man down on the sofa, pretending he couldn’t hold him up any longer.
“You’re light,” Liam claimed.
With a twist of a smile and a voice as soft as frost, the bartender said, “Big brothers have to be strong to keep their little brothers safe.”
“Yes.” Liam swallowed, a flashback of what happened with Reginald Fox zipping through his mind. I saved Cam then. “Yes, they have to be.”
Liam kneeled between the bartender’s spread legs. One of his hands went to the zipper and he looked up at the young man’s face for assent. He would stop no matter what his body wanted if the young man wasn’t game for this. But he nodded and his breathing quickened. Liam undid the zipped and slid both the jeans and boxer briefs down to mid-thigh. The young man’s cock was also cinnamon colored and slender, but long. It bobbed, the head wet with precum, before him, looking incredibly inviting. He leaned down and licked the head. The precum was salty and earthy. He dragged his tongue along the slit for more. The bartender trembled with pleasure. Those hooded blue eyes looked at him with almost desperation.