Bad Influence

by K.A. Mitchell

  “Is that shirt painted on you?”

  Silver shifted his shoulders. “Feels like it.” He shot a glance Zeb’s way. Clean-scraped jaw, a hint of sandalwood stronger than the oily backwash bubbling up from the boat’s motor. A scent so familiar it eased some of the unfamiliar shyness. Funny that Zeb had never changed his aftershave. No reason to, just because Silver used whatever was around. “You shaved.”

  Zeb glanced down. “The principal will be happy.”

  Gavin had a line in his hands as he stood over the letters naming the boat the Carpe Diem. Jamie drove a boat as arrogantly and as smoothly as he drove his cop car, swinging it into the narrow berth without ever touching the sides of the slip.

  It wasn’t as big as Silver had been expecting, something that slept twenty and needed a launch to get out to, but another couple could join them before it would feel crowded.

  When he stepped forward and helped Gavin with the cleat hitch, Gavin favored Silver with one of those almost smiles, and he found himself blushing. He put a hand up to his eyes as if shielding them from the sun.

  “You’re a handy guy,” Zeb said in Silver’s ear.

  “Handsy too.” Silver tried to pass it off with a leer.

  “I didn’t know you knew your way around boats.”

  “Sue me. In addition to Star Wars, I went through a hard-core Johnny Depp/Orlando Bloom pirate… thing.”

  It had been a full-blown kink. Jack teaching Will what two men could or couldn’t do on a boat and then Will turning the tables, putting Jack on his knees.

  “Thing, huh?” Zeb murmured as Eli and Quinn stepped aboard.

  “A kink, okay?”

  “Hmmm.” Zeb shouldn’t have been close enough for Silver to feel the sound vibrate against his skin, but it did, tingling in all the best places. “And here we are. On a boat.”

  “With four other people,” Silver reminded him.

  “You coming aboard?” Big surprise, Jamie was acting like he owned the damned boat.

  Gavin urged Zeb toward the steps. “Silver and I will cast off.”

  Jamie held out his hand to Zeb. “Help you aboard? Uh, sorry, forgot your name, buddy.”

  Silver doubted that. Jamie didn’t forget much, so he was offering a mild Jamie-style insult. But whether it was general assholishness or something particular about Zeb, Silver couldn’t tell.

  Gavin unwrapped the cleat as Silver climbed the stairs over the gunwale. He knew Gavin didn’t actually need help, but as he swung up over the gunwale himself, he passed the line and Silver retied it on the boat’s cleat.

  “Where’d you pick that up?” Gavin watched Silver secure the line.

  “Uh. Movies and a summer at camp.”

  Gavin frowned. “The conversion camp Eli told us about?”

  “No.” A choked laugh came out along with the answer, surprising Silver. Bitter as the laugh was, he didn’t ever expect he’d have managed any amusement at the thought of Path to Glory.

  Gavin’s gaze shifted to where Jamie was gesturing from next to the wheel. “He looks better with the close shave.”

  For a second, Silver thought Gavin was talking about Jamie, but that didn’t make sense.

  Gavin meant Zeb. All this interest in Silver’s love—sex—life was starting to drive home the fact that despite every effort to keep ties to a minimum, he’d acquired friends. He couldn’t pin the interest on Gavin or even Quinn’s financial investment anymore. And it didn’t feel creepy. It was kind of nice. If a little weird.

  “Yeah,” Silver agreed. “The bad-boy-Jesus thing only gets him so far.”

  “I would imagine it could be challenging getting it up for a mythic philosopher martyred in the early days of the Common Era.”

  Silver laughed, and the corners of Gavin’s eyes crinkled.

  With a chin jerk to indicate the redhead acting all proprietary about Gavin’s yacht, Silver said, “He wears a cross and a saint medal. How do you guys handle that?”

  Gavin regarded Silver steadily as the Carpe Diem’s engines churned the bay beneath their feet. Under Gavin’s appraisal, Silver’s tongue stuck like glue to the roof of his mouth. He didn’t know if Gavin knew Silver had had his boyfriend’s dick in his mouth. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news—however lacking in passion those fifteen minutes had been. He and Jamie hadn’t moved more clothing than strictly necessary, and it hadn’t been when Silver had spotted the religious stuff.

  He pried his tongue free. “I’ve noticed it on him. Is it a problem between you, you not being a believer?”

  Gavin shook his head. “I’ve never had a problem with other people’s superstitions provided they don’t use them to harm others.” His voice got hard there, and Silver wondered what—whose—superstitions had fucked with someone Gavin cared about. “Do you think Zeb’s beliefs will be a problem for you?”

  Silver hadn’t had much time to think of the future. There was so much else, so much other baggage that still needed to be unpacked. The whole religion thing hadn’t made a ripple in Silver’s consciousness until now.

  “I don’t know.”

  Zeb hadn’t cared about Silver’s cynical attitude back then, but that was before Path to Glory, before just mentioning a Bible verse could get Silver twitching. He knew it wasn’t only words to Zeb, or superstition. And Silver wasn’t planning on changing his attitude anytime soon.

  Gavin had waited patiently for Silver to expand on his lame answer. “It hasn’t come up. There’s been so much else to deal with.”

  “I heard. And I suspect there may have been more tragedy involved than was in the romantic fiction that reached my ears.”

  “Kind of.” As the boat picked up speed, Silver hauled out a tried-and-true deflection. “Do you mind that I invited him?”

  “I told you it was fine to bring a guest. I suspected we might be seeing him. Or perhaps your friend with the charming accent and car troubles.”

  Marco would love this. Silver could picture him looking all around with wide eyes. “Maybe. If there’s a next time.” Silver tried to not make it sound like a request by looking at the deck instead of Gavin.

  “I would very much like for there to be a next time.” Gavin tapped Silver’s shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Since Silver wanted as many yacht trips as he could get, keeping drama to a minimum would probably help. He got the idea Jamie was the possessive kind. “Your boyfriend keeps cranking his head to stare at us.”

  “So he is, but I have great faith in his ability not to run us aground.”

  Silver didn’t think anyone would ever have great faith in his ability to keep himself dry and fed for a month. He headed for Zeb, but Gavin’s soft call made Silver turn back.

  “Silver, I certainly can’t claim any expertise in relationships, given that I am new to navigating one myself. But I am learning that should you find yourself in one, not only do they require some effort at negotiation, the rewards are worth it.” Gavin went up to the bridge to stand behind Jamie.

  Eli was tucked between Quinn’s legs on a couch-like bench, leaning back against his chest, Quinn’s hand straying to the exposed flesh over Eli’s waistband. Zeb was in a seat near a sink and bar. Wondering if he was pissed at having been left alone made Silver’s stomach tighten as he sank into a seat opposite.

  Being on a yacht was awesome and not something Silver had ever pictured in any coming attraction. But it did make you have to deal with the other people on board. No escape if something went sour. What had seemed hot in fantasies was not so much in practice.

  “Something wrong?” Zeb asked.

  “No. It’s fine. Great.”

  Zeb put a hand across the small table between them, the arch in his brows saying he didn’t buy it.

  Silver let his hand drop on Zeb’s for a split second. “What wouldn’t be great? Did you miss the part where we’re on a yacht?”

  “Surrounded by water.”

  “Are you aquaphobic?” Silver was damned pleased he pulled the word out
of his head. He’d once studied the whole list of them for some school project. Ranidaphobia and gephyrophobia were his. Some nightmares had swarms of frogs trapping him on a bridge. He didn’t know why the stupid stuff felt worse than the truly horrifying things that had happened. He should be more afraid of fifty-year-old guys with bad comb-overs and an aversion to hygiene.

  “No.” Zeb opened his palm in invitation. Silver’s hand was too damp to take him up on it.

  “For someone who has a boat kink, you seem tense in the not-fun way,” Zeb added.

  “It was pirates.”

  A boat wasn’t the same as a bridge. Silver wasn’t trapped; they were going somewhere. And he was pretty sure the gleaming chrome and light varnished wood and white pleather didn’t hide any tadpole colonies.

  As subtly as he could, he dried his hands on his cargo shorts. He’d felt so badass on the dock, making Zeb’s tongue hang out, the day full of sun and promise. Should have known it wouldn’t last.

  They approached a big bridge. At the wheel, Gavin wrapped himself around Jamie from behind. God knew what Eli and Quinn were up to behind them. Eli didn’t exactly seem to have boundaries with that kind of stuff.

  Silver slid his hand into Zeb’s as the bridge made a high roof overhead. Zeb curled their fingers into an interlocking spiral, a double fist resting on the table.

  “You missed the grand tour. But I could be persuaded to recreate it privately,” Zeb offered.

  Silver cranked his head to see what looked like a door for hobbits that must have led below the deck. “How private?” He rubbed his thumb across the top of their fists. It would take the edge off and piss off Jamie, so bonus points there.

  Zeb smiled and used their grip to lever himself up and around the table to share Silver’s side. “Galley, couches, and if people can manage in airplane bathrooms….”

  “That desperate, huh? Coming off a long dry spell?”

  Zeb let go of Silver’s hand, cupping his face in both palms, then pressing their foreheads together. The scent of sandalwood was stronger now, making Silver’s heart rate tick up.

  “Why would I be desperate?” Zeb whispered against his mouth. “Side by side all those times and not able to touch you? You teasing me over those workbooks. Do you even need help for that test?”

  Silver put his arms around Zeb’s neck. “Kind of. But I was starting to think you didn’t notice my other suggestions.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Why didn’t you do something?”

  “I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.”

  Silver slumped back in the seat. He dragged his arms with him, a sharp burn on skin that had become glued together with sweat and spray from the water.

  Zeb rubbed his neck with a wince. “Not like that. Hey.” Zeb put a hand on Silver’s thigh to keep him on the cushion. As if there was someplace he could run to on the boat. “You’d asked for help. I didn’t want to take advantage of—”

  “Me?”

  “The situation.”

  “You think something could happen if I didn’t want it? For the last time, I made my own choices. I was plenty old enough to know who I wanted to fuck.”

  Rather than get pissed off and frustrated back, Zeb smiled. “Am I allowed to be glad it was me?”

  Sometimes Zeb’s earnestness made Silver want to shake him. But right then, it was kind of adorable. “I’ll allow it.” Silver’s lips curled hard enough to hurt.

  They faced into the rush of air as the boat sped farther south into the bay. Zeb’s hand found its way under both Silver’s shirts in the back and teased with a brush of rough-edged skin along his spine. They’d never had this before. Anywhere but in the sanctuary of Zeb’s apartment, they’d had to keep a frozen distance, their stiffness probably drawing more attention than an occasional touch would have.

  Which was why it must have been alien to have Zeb keep up the tingling-but-soothing brush of skin on skin. No, it felt strange because Silver had never had any kind of casual touch like this. Specific sexual touches, yes, designed with a purpose. Even with Austin or Jason, the post-fucking hugs or kisses had been nothing more than part of the process.

  These endless circles and lines left Silver hypnotized as they bounced along the waves. Which was good, because if he wasn’t lulled into a zone, he might have been scared by how happy he felt.

  When he opened his eyes, the sun was hitting his face from a different direction.

  Shit. At the rate he kept falling asleep on Zeb, Silver should be ready for a senior home. “Sorry.” He straightened from the lean against Zeb.

  Zeb pulled him back down. “I liked it.” His lips brushed Silver’s ear. “Remember how we used to wish we could spend the night together? I like finally getting to watch you sleep.”

  Zeb’s words sent a jolt of heat low into Silver’s belly, but not to his dick and balls, even though it was definitely the sexiest thing anyone had said to him in forever.

  He glanced around. Jamie was piloting them into a small cove lined with wind-flattened grass and trees. There was absolutely no one else in sight, but it wasn’t the farmland he’d grown up around. Only white-tipped waves on the other side. The water was a beautiful blue Silver never saw in the harbor. It was like having been taken to another planet.

  Gavin came out of the hobbit hole. Behind him, Silver glimpsed more gleaming chrome and wood and a nice flat-panel TV screen set in the wall.

  Gavin had to duck, but the way it opened meant he wasn’t exactly crawling. Eli followed him out, and the doorway was a perfect size for him. Eli had a tray with fruit and bread and cheese and meat. Gavin held dark wine bottles.

  “For our celebration I have a lovely toasted walnut and honeyed orange Krug Grande Cuvée Brut and what I am assured is an equally lovely nonalcoholic sparkling wine from California.” Gavin placed the bottles near a sink and pulled champagne glasses from the cabinet beneath.

  Silver was appreciative Gavin had brought the N/A for him and pissed as fuck it was necessary because of some stupid rule only Jamie seemed to give a shit about. He bet Krug was a better champagne than Cristal or whatever people thought was swanky. His parents had probably never had anything so good. And Silver was missing his chance.

  “Nonalcoholic for me,” Jamie called back from the cockpit. “I’m driving.”

  “God, doesn’t he always?” Eli plopped the big tray on the table in front of Zeb and Silver. “Seriously, can we say overcompensation?”

  “Now you know that’s not so, hon,” Jamie drawled back.

  Eli raised his hands as if surrendering to Gavin. “All innocent, I swear. And I meant for your height, Officer Donnigan.”

  Gavin looked bemused.

  “So, Gavin, come on. I gotta know. Does he always… drive?” Eli smirked.

  A hint of a smile twitched the corner of Gavin’s lips. “I would never kiss and tell.”

  “Which means he doesn’t. Yes.” Eli made a fist pump of triumph. “Nobody’s that much of a toppy bastard unless he’s secretly dying for a dick up his ass.” Eli bounced into the cockpit to better torment Jamie.

  Served the arrogant prick right.

  “I’ll take the N/A too,” Quinn said, stepping forward to the main part of the deck. “Feeling a little dehydrated.”

  If you didn’t pop a load in your boyfriend every two hours, maybe your mouth wouldn’t be so dry. Silver kept his lips pressed together to keep the words from spilling out. What had Austin said? The definition of promiscuous is anyone having more sex than you.

  Eli coughed in an attention-seeking way as he skipped back toward the table and flashed his grin along with plenty of skin above his waistband.

  Silver knew they’d been up to something back there.

  “Filthy bastards.” Jamie joined them. He swung a hand toward Eli’s ass but changed direction at the last second so it landed on his upper back, hard enough to send him stumbling against the tray. It had a railing around the edges to keep things from sliding.


  “We’re at anchor,” Jamie told Gavin.

  “I am so having champagne.” Eli picked up a glass.

  “I’ll stick with the nonalcoholic,” Zeb said, all noble. And stupid.

  Silver pushed his sneaker into Zeb’s instep. “Go ahead. Have a glass.”

  Zeb did a little tilt of his head to go with the look he gave Silver. Like he would believe Zeb would be all rebellious and hand off his glass. There were other ways of getting a taste. Silver stared back at Zeb’s lips until he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  To everyone who wasn’t Eli.

  “Oh my God, he’s going to drink it off his lips. You guys are so fucking cute.”

  Silver lov—liked Eli. A lot. But sometimes he could see why Quinn kept his dick stuffed in him as often as possible.

  Gavin handed off the fake stuff to Jamie and worked on the darker, bigger bottle with the gold on the label.

  Eli leaned over the table to mutter in Silver’s ear. “When I saw him take it out of the fridge down there, I tried to look up the price online, but I couldn’t get a signal. If you want some later, take mine. No one will give a shit.”

  There was no big pop and spray from either bottle, only a hiss and something like smoke. But as Gavin took Eli’s glass and tipped it to meet the bottle, the gold bubbles rushed out with barely any effort.

  He took the glass full of paler stuff from Jamie, who nodded at him like it was some serious moment.

  When they all had a glass, Gavin said, “I would like to propose a toast to Charm City’s most sought-after new artist. May your success be the first of many.” He raised his glass. Eli clinked his with Quinn, and they all drank. Silver’s tasted like fuzzy grape juice, but Eli’s and Zeb’s eyes both widened at their first sip.

  “I need to sell enough to be able to buy more of this.” Eli laughed. “Thank you.”

  “To Eli’s new career.” Quinn raised his glass. Swinging his arm around Eli’s neck, he rubbed their cheeks together. “I’m so proud of you.”