by Lisa Worrall
"Didn't you two get enough last night?" Marcus drawled, his eyes lingering on Will's muscled chest.
"Don't mind us." Brent grinned, his gaze roaming over Scott lasciviously. "Carry on," he said suggestively. "Pretend we're not even here."
Marcus elbowed his friend in the ribs and laughed when Brent grunted. "You must forgive Brent, as you may have already discovered, he's a sleaze. We'll wait downstairs while you two get dressed. But don't be long, we're dying to know what you thought of last night. Come on, guys."
"Before I forget," Todd added, rolling his eyes at Marcus manhandling a reluctant Brent down the stairs. "Scott, could you have another look at my laptop? I can't access my emails and it's driving me nuts."
"Sure thing," Scott tried to smile as casually as he could. "I thought we fixed that last week, but I'll have another look when I come down, did you bring it with you?"
"Yeah, it's downstairs in the living room."
"No problem." Scott glanced at Will, who was now breathing more regularly. "Give us five minutes and we'll be down. Mine's black no sugar."
"And mine is white with three," Will said, grinning as the smaller man left the doorway and they listened to him making his way down the stairs. "Jesus Christ," he hissed. "Doesn't anyone knock anymore?"
"What the hell is wrong with these people?" Scott grumbled as he tried not to watch the way the soft fabric of Will's sweatpants stretched across the curve of his firm ass as he stood up. Scott bit his lower lip and gave a mental shake of his head. Get a grip, Turner! Judging the distance from the bed to the dresser, Scott concluded that the time for modesty was long gone. It wasn't as if Will hadn't already seen him naked. He threw back the covers, climbed out of bed and padded in his bare feet to the dresser to open a drawer and take out some boxers. Bending and giving Will a bird's eye view of his ass, he slipped his feet into the underwear and pulled them up, before grabbing a pair of faded gray sweatpants and a white wife beater.
When he'd dressed, he turned to find Will pulling a black wife beater on, his back to Scott. He bit harder at his lip, tasting the copper of blood as his gaze followed the ripple of muscles as Will pulled the material over his head and smoothed it down his chest. At the sound of his name being called, his gaze flew up to meet Will's—the expression on the other man's face making it clear that his name had been said more than once.
"What?"
"I said, are you ready?"
Scott cleared his throat and slipped his feet into his hi-tops. "Yeah, let's go."
"Hey, guys," Will said, smiling brightly as he bounded into the kitchen with Scott behind him.
Scott took the mug that Marcus held out to him, slid into the only vacant chair around the table, and tried to ignore the graceful way Will crossed his legs at the ankle as he leaned against the countertop. Come on! Now you think he's graceful? When did your balls drop off, Turner?
"Dude." Marcus grinned at Will and held out his hand, encouraging him to take it. "You're making the place look untidy, come, sit."
"If you insist." Will grinned in reply and slipped his hand into Marcus's, letting the other man guide him onto his lap.
Scott quirked an eyebrow at Will as he perched on the other man's knees. He tried to ignore the arm that Marcus looped around Will's waist, but the sight of his tanned fingers resting casually against Will's stomach lit a flame of jealousy deep in his belly. He wished one of the men would suddenly jump up and declare he knew who the killer was, just like Miss Marple in an Agatha Christie novel, so they could slap on the cuffs and get the hell out of Dodge. Will chose that exact moment to catch his gaze and Scott's gut tightened. He knew that there was no way Will could have not noticed the jealousy written all over his face.
He was so screwed.
"So," Todd said with a smile, "we all want to know. How was your first gathering?"
"It was very… interesting," Scott drawled, dragging his gaze from Will's and trying to concentrate on the other men around the table. But the confusion in Will's eyes was making it difficult. "We didn't know what to expect, so we arrived with a very open mind, didn't we, babe?"
"We enjoyed it," Will replied quietly.
"We enjoyed you," Brent said, his tone laced with insinuation. "Not as much as we'd have liked, but there's always next time." He turned his gaze on Scott. "Maybe next time, you won't say no."
Scott simply smiled at Brent and turned his attention back to his coffee. Maybe if you'd said yes, last night would never have happened. You wouldn't be trying to convince yourself that it was the strength of the coffee that was making your guts churn. The vicious little voice in his ear laughed derisively. Will looks real comfortable on Marcus's lap. I bet Marcus is as hard as nails with that gorgeous ass on his cock. Bet he's wishing he could bend him over right now. Lick him open and fuck—"Shut up!"
"You okay, Scott?" Will's voice broke through the fog of jealousy that currently surrounded Scott's brain.
Shit! Had he said that aloud? "What?"
Will frowned at him but didn't embellish, simply saying, "Brent was saying that Todd's singing at the club tonight."
"Fantastic, I can't wait to hear you sing, Todd," Scott replied, smiling brightly at the other man. He quickly downed the rest of his coffee and stood up, padding over to the sink and rinsing his mug. As he stood there, gathering himself, he hissed in a breath when Will's shoulder brushed against his. Glancing up, he caught the other man's gaze—contemplative and uncertain—and immediately looked back down at the water flowing into the mug. Was that a shudder he felt flow through Will when they touched? What the fuck was going on here? He'd seen confusion on Will's face. He was sure of it. But what did it mean? He turned away from the sink without looking at the man beside him again, turning his attention to Todd. "Hey." he put his hand on the man's shoulder. "You want to show me that laptop?"
Todd nodded and got up to follow Scott into the living room, leaving Will with the others discussing the coming evening. "I don't know what's wrong with it," he said, dropping down onto the sofa beside Scott. "I can't access my emails and it keeps freezing up on me."
"If what I did last week didn't fix the problem, I think we're going to have to reload your shit again, dude." Scott opened the laptop where it sat on the coffee table and turned it on. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from his backpack on the floor next to the sofa, he turned to Todd. "Give me your login and password and I'll see what I can do. If I have to reload, I'll back everything up onto disc first."
"There are some files on there, you know, personal files. Would you be able to recover everything?"
"I should be able to. Don't worry about it," Scott smiled reassuringly, his gaze narrowing slightly in confusion as Todd looked over his shoulder toward the door to check there was no one there and they weren't being overheard.
"Thing is, I don't want them falling into the wrong hands. It's just pictures and stuff," his gaze became cloudy, "from home."
"I'll be very discreet, Todd. Seriously." Scott watched Todd wrestle with his decision and then scribble down the details that Scott needed. "I'll go through everything, back it all up and reset it. It should work fine after that." Putting the pen and paper on top of the laptop keyboard, he leaned back against the cushions and studied the striking man beside him. Todd obviously wasn't good with strangers at first, because over the last week he had come out of his shell on the few visits he had made to the house with Marcus. "It must be an amazing feeling, singing to a crowd of people. I don't know how you do it. I'd be scared shitless."
Todd chuckled softly, his cheeks flushing. "I've been doing it for years and I never get used to it. It's always overwhelming until I'm a few bars into the first song, then," he shrugged, "all the nervousness just fades away and I become this different person. I feel like I can do anything when I sing."
Scott nodded and reached out his hand to squeeze the other man's shoulder. "Did Jon and Cory watch you play?" He kept his tone soft.
Todd's shoulders immediately tensed a
t the names and he hung his head. He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, Jon was my number one flag waver, never missed a gig, no matter where it was. Benefits of having a plane at your disposal." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you could keep what I said about the laptop, you know, between us, I'd be grateful." He moved closer so that their knees touched, and he reached to smooth long fingers down Scott's forearm. Gazing deeply into Scott's eyes he moistened his lips nervously. "Really grateful."
Scott's gaze widened at the obvious intent in the other man's eyes, and the touch on his skin. "Todd," he shook his head slowly, and stilled the movement of Todd's fingers. "You really don't—"
"It's okay," Todd assured him. "Marcus suggested it. I've been monopolizing your time a bit with this stupid laptop, and it's only fair you get something in return. Or, maybe Will if… you… don't like me."
"Of course, I like you," Scott said softly, loosely entwining his fingers with Todd's. "But you don't have to offer yourself to me in payment. If we ever did get together," he said softly, "it would be because we both wanted it. Not because you were working off some debt." Anger unfurled in his gut, hot, heavy, and directed at Marcus. How dare he treat the man he was supposed to love, this way? Who the fuck did he think he was pimping Todd out like he was some kind of hooker? Scott noted the play of several emotions across Todd's face at his words. He tried to pin them down, confusion, relief, fear? That had alarm bells clanging in the part of his brain labeled "cop". Why would Todd be afraid?
"Thanks, Scott." Todd tilted his head slightly as he studied him. "You remind me a little of Cory. He was one of the good guys, too."
"All fixed?" A deep voice had them looking up to see Marcus leaning on the door jamb.
Scott forced a smile on his face and closed the lid of Todd's laptop. "Not yet. But I'm hoping to have it up and running in a few days. Then you can see if you can beat my score on WoW," he added, turning his head to wink at Todd as if they had been having a totally different conversation.
"You are going down, dude," Todd's smile was grateful.
"We'd better go, babe," Marcus said, a loving smile on his face. "We need to get some rehearsal time at the club."
Scott stood as Todd rose from the couch and moved into the circle of Marcus's arms, lifting his chin for his partner's kiss. He worried at the inside of his lip with his teeth. They appeared to be the image of the perfect couple. But were they? He glanced at Will as he and Brent came into the room and tried to contain the shiver that flowed down his spine at the warmth of Will's arm as it casually slipped around his waist and pulled him close. Unable to find a good enough reason not to, he automatically leaned into Will as their visitors offered friendly kisses and hugs of farewell. Scott tried to turn his cheek for Brent's kiss, but the man grasped his chin and held him steady so he could bring their mouths together and kiss Scott thoroughly. He gave Brent what he hoped passed for a genuine smile as he broke the kiss.
"See you tonight," Brent drawled, reaching up to kiss Will swiftly on the mouth. It was a barely there press of lips, serving to let the two men know where his desire lay.
"For God's sake, dude," Marcus griped, shaking his head at Brent and grabbing his elbow. "You have no shame." He rolled his eyes at Will and Scott and guided an unremorseful Brent and a chuckling Todd out of the room. Moments later the heavy front door slammed behind them.
"Ow, dude," Scott griped, pulling at the fingers digging painfully into his side. "You're hurting me." He turned to look up at Will when he'd dropped his arm from around him, and his stomach flip-flopped at the way the other man was staring, transfixed, at his mouth. Lifting his hand, Scott had every intention of wiping the beads of moisture from his lips, a reminder of Brent's kiss. An astonished gasp fell from his lips as Will beat him to it. The pad of Will's thumb moved over his mouth, his gaze following the movement. What is he doing? Is it possible to come just from someone staring at your mouth?
Scott didn't have time for any other semi-coherent thoughts because Will bent his head and kissed him. It wasn't a heated kiss—it wasn't aggressive—or a mark of possession. It was tender, soft, and he felt it everywhere. Even his toes curled in his hi tops. When Will pulled back, Scott stared at him in confusion. "Will?" The other man didn't reply, simply released Scott and walked out of the room, pausing in the doorway at Scott's, "What—?"
He turned and gazed into Scott's confused brown eyes. "When you lick your lips, I don't want you to taste him."
Scott touched his fingers to his lips and sank back onto the couch as Will closed the living room door behind him. "Oh, no," he hissed sarcastically. "Not confusing, not confusing at all."
Chapter seven
Will stared at the blank screen on the desk. What the fuck were you thinking? He ignored inner Will and scrubbed a hand over his face. The truth was he couldn't answer anyway. All he'd been thinking about was hot, ugly jealousy washing over him in waves every time Brent looked at Scott. Jesus, he'd barely waited until the door had closed before he was kissing Brent's taste from his partner's lips, wanting Scott to taste only him. Let's face it, he hadn't really been thinking, period.
He'd kind of zoned out after Brent had revealed that Scott had turned him down last night. He couldn't believe it. Scott said no to Brent. Was that why he'd let Will do what he'd done? Because Brent had gotten him so turned on? Because he needed release? Sighing heavily, he groaned at his own stupidity. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, a tiny piece of Scott had wanted him last night. Dumbass! You were just there is all. The thought crept into his head, unwanted and unasked for and he brushed it aside. What did it matter to him, anyway? Scott Turner was an asshole, wasn't he? A week ago, he couldn't stand the guy for Christ's sake. Hated everything he represented—the atypical heterosexual male. And now what—he couldn't bear the thought or sight of another man's hands on him?
"Get a fucking grip, Will," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and angry in the quiet of the room. "What the fuck has that asshole done to me? I've got gaydar like everybody else. I don't make a play for the straight ones. What's the point? I'm not an idiot."
Oh, for God's sake. You want him. You know you do. Stop lying to yourself and figure out what you're going to do about it!
He knew exactly what he was going to do about it. He needed a drink—a lot of drinks. Maybe that would drive the sound of Scott whimpering "Don't want you to stop" from echoing around his head.
Half an hour of moping later, unable to ignore the rumbling in his stomach, Will wandered into the kitchen to make some lunch. Opening the huge fridge, he scanned the contents and settled on the makings of a chicken and cheese sandwich. He picked up the packet of cooked chicken and peeled back the already open seal. Taking a sniff, he shrugged and quickly deemed it edible, tossing it onto the counter and then hunting for the cheese. With the large unopened block in his hand, he threw a bag of mixed salad to join the chicken and grabbed the mayonnaise, nudging the door closed with his shoulder. In the bread bin there was half of a long baguette, and he remembered that he'd gotten the munchies yesterday afternoon and eaten the rest of the bread. Of course, in the build up to the gathering, he'd forgotten to replace it. The half baguette would have to do.
Pulling open the cupboard door directly above him, he reached up to take out a plate and paused. He rolled his eyes and took down a second and placed them both on the counter. What was he going to do? He couldn't ignore the guy. He was just being polite, nothing more. Will cut the baguette in half, made a slice down the center of each and thickly spread the mayonnaise. Quickly tossing in the chicken and grating some cheese over the top, he squeezed some salad leaves into the overflowing sandwich and squashed it together.
Will looked quite satisfied with his creation and placed the sandwiches on the two plates. Turning back to the fridge, he pulled out two bottles of the fancy Colorado microbrew Scott had insisted they buy and slipped one in each armpit for ease of carriage. He picked up the plates and headed for the living room, trying to ignore the
flutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
Taking a deep breath, Will pushed open the living room door and walked through it. "I thought you might be hungry," he said conversationally, putting the plates down on the coffee table. Glancing up at Scott when he received no response, he reached out a hand to him in concern. Scott was sitting cross-legged on the couch, gazing in stunned horror at the screen of Todd's laptop. "Scott? Dude, what's wrong?" The other man said nothing, simply turned the laptop around so that Will could see the image on the screen. It took a few moments for Will's brain to process what his eyes were seeing because, quite honestly, he couldn't believe it—didn't want to believe it. "My God," he murmured, sinking onto the couch next to Scott.
In the first image, Todd was on the bed. His hands bound behind him. There was a man Will didn't recognize fucking him, and another stranger with his cock shoved into Todd's mouth. His gaze darkened when Scott clicked on the arrow to activate the slide show of the contents of the file they were looking at. There were hundreds of pictures. Some of Todd with other men. Some of him on his own, bruising obvious on most parts of his body, but never his face. Never where it would show. Some were posed, some had obviously been taken during some act of degradation, but there was one thing that was identical in every shot. The fear, panic, and pain in Todd's blue eyes as the tears rolled down his cheeks. It was obvious he had been forced to participate in these acts. Forced to accept the abuse.
"Where's my gun?" Will's voice was heavy with barely controlled anger.
"What?"
"I'm going across the street to shoot Marcus." He made to stand and was pulled back to the sofa by Scott's hand on his arm.
"Don't be stupid," Scott said in a small sad voice. "What would that achieve?"