by Lisa Worrall
"Hey everybody thanks for coming out tonight. I want to thank Brent for letting me come back and sing for you, so let's get started." Todd put his guitar strap around his neck and strummed a few chords as he got comfortable. "I would like to dedicate the first song to a couple of friends of mine, who are no longer with us. Cory and Jon."
Todd's voice rang sweet and clear around the hushed club and Will opened his eyes a fraction to study Scott from beneath lowered lashes. The other man's body was half turned in the seat and the warmth of his back pressed into Will's arm. He decided there and then that he could stare at Scott's profile all day. That he would never tire of looking at the way his dark hair swept back from his forehead and curled around his collar. That he could probably spend the rest of his life counting the streaks of red that the low lighting behind the booth picked out in the dark waves. Scott must have felt the weight of Will's gaze, because he turned his head and stared back at him through lowered lashes.
Will had no idea what motivated Scott's next move, he only knew that he was more than happy for his partner to reach out and take his hand and pull him closer. He allowed Scott to guide his hand around Scott's waist and he lowered his head against the man's shoulder, keeping their fingers entwined while they listened to Todd sing. Will sighed and rubbed his cheek on the soft cotton it laid against, closing his eyes when Scott tilted his head and rested it against Will's. The mixed signals he was getting from Scott were driving him crazy, but right now, he didn't care. He just wanted to listen to Todd sing, breathe in Scott's scent, and revel in the warmth of his lean frame pressed up close.
Forty-five minutes later, the entire clientele clapped, whistled, and whooped Todd off the stage. He was slapped on the back and hands were held out to him from every direction as Will watched him make his way across the floor to the booth and Marcus. Todd was immediately enfolded in Marcus's arms, and the big man pulled him in close and murmured in his ear. Will obviously couldn't hear what was being said, but he could guess it was words of congratulations and adoration from the happiness on Todd's face.
Who had been in the dressing room with Todd? Who thought they had the right to do that to the other man? Was Marcus allowing it to happen? Will ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe that. Not looking at the two of them together now. There was no way that Marcus would stand by and let someone hurt Todd. He was sure of it.
Sighing, Will eased away from Scott and stood. He slipped his hand along Todd's back, turned the smaller man to face him and pulled him into a hug. "That was great, Todd. You're the man, dude." He started when Scott sidled up beside him and hugged both him and Todd, adding his own congratulations.
Will could feel the champagne buzz through his veins, knowing there was no way he could sit next to Scott and pretend to be the perfect couple. Not for one more minute. He needed to get out. His cock was half-hard in his pants and the yearning for release curled tightly in his gut. He needed to get as far away from that navy gaze and dark soft hair as he could. Now!
"Excuse me, guys," he said, his voice gruff as he pulled away and stepped back. "I'll be right back."
Scott's gaze followed Will's path across the dance floor, lingering on the sway of Will's lean hips and the rippling of taut muscles beneath the tight-fitting shirt. Heat flowed through him and he changed his stance as he hardened, hoping no one would see. "Shit," he hissed quietly, picking up the champagne bottle Will had put down and taking a long swig. He wrinkled his nose as the bubbles fizzed and popped their way down his throat and he sank back down onto the seating he had occupied with Will.
Scottee, you got some esplainin' to doooo. Ignoring the pathetic Ricky Ricardo imitation of his inner voice, Scott swigged another mouthful. What could he explain? That he'd been affected by Todd's sweet rendition of the first song? That it had resonated deep within him, and he'd been overwhelmed by the sudden need to have Will as close as possible? To feel their bodies pressed against each other. To lose himself in the comfort of the other man's scent as it washed over him.
It was blatantly obvious that he had not only stepped over the line, he'd got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed it out, because the moment Todd had stopped singing, Will hadn't been able to get away fast enough.
Scott forced his lips into a smile as David slid into the booth beside him. "Hey."
"Hey yourself, did you enjoy the show?" David leaned in a little closer and put his hand on Scott's forearm. "Brent told me what happened on the dance floor." He held up his hand when Scott opened his mouth to respond. "I just wanted to apologize on Brent's behalf. He gets a little carried away sometimes and forgets there are boundaries to be adhered to. I'm so sorry if he upset you and Will. I've told him to rein it in."
"Honestly, Dave," Scott replied, patting the hand curled around his forearm. "It's fine, there was no harm done. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I don't know what's got into Will tonight. It's not like him to be so rude."
"I did notice he was a little off tonight." David ran a hand through his hair and gazed at Scott, a faint flush staining his cheeks.
"What?" Scott frowned at the expression on David's face. The man looked as though he wanted to say something but was unsure as to whether he should. "David? What's wrong?" He didn't like the way David hesitated before replying.
"I know we haven't known each other that long, and it's really none of my business. Brent said I should leave it, but I don't know. Will doesn't really strike me as the type, and I know he's had a lot to drink—"
"Dave, just spit it out," Scott said, anxious butterflies beginning to take wing in his stomach.
David pressed his lips to Scott's ear. "I saw Will going into the back room."
"You're kidding, right?" Scott snorted, downing another mouthful of champagne. He chuckled softly until the expression on David's face sent the fizzy wine back into his throat in a hiss of acid. "You're not kidding." Putting down the bottle, he tried to force a natural looking smile to his lips, but it felt wrong, and judging by the concern in David's gaze, the smile obviously looked wrong, too. He stood and laid a hand on David's shoulder. "I'd better go rescue the asshole before he does something stupid. Thanks, David. I appreciate it. Would you make our apologies to everyone? I'm going to take the idiot home before he embarrasses himself further."
Scott pushed his way through the crowd and headed for the back room. A gazillion thoughts pin-wheeled around his head and echoed off his skull. How does he even know there is a back room? What the hell is he trying to do? Kill me? Make me kill him? He strode purposefully toward the black curtain and pulled the material aside, letting it fall behind him as he entered the large room.
Most gay clubs had a room where you could fulfill your wildest dreams with any number of willing strangers, and The Rose was no exception. In the darkness, Scott scanned the space, squinting in the semi-darkness, his gaze searching for Will. There were bodies everywhere. Heated kisses were exchanged. Hands whispered across soft skin. Men on their knees as fingers wound in their hair and cocks thrust into their mouths. Couples lying on the banquettes lining the walls. Not just couples, three men or more, their limbs entangled, tongues sliding across naked flesh, their soft moans and whimpers echoing around the room. He stepped around men who moved into his path, smiling apologetically at the owners of hands that reached out for him—only interested in one man.
Then he saw him.
Scott froze, unable to believe his own eyes.
Will Harrison, his Will Harrison, leaned against the wall, his stance wide-legged to retain his balance. His eyes were closed, and his head thrown back, exposing the tanned column of his throat. A beautiful black man kitten-licked Will's skin, drawing it into his mouth and scraping the flesh with his teeth.
But it didn't end there. Scott's stunned gaze followed the length of Will's body, pausing at a second man, with short spiky blond hair, running long fingers up and down Will's muscled, shirtless chest. The point of his tongue, lapping ferociously at one of Will's nipples.
As if that weren't enough for Scott's brain to process, a third man knelt before Will, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to his flat belly, his tongue dipping in and swirling around his navel.
What the fuck was he doing? Was this his fault? Had he done this? Gotten Will all worked up with the touching and the mixed messages? Driven him to seek someone else to put out the fire he had started? Had—?
Scott suddenly found himself staring into deep, brown eyes. Eyes that had darkened to almost black in the low, muted lighting of the back room. He could see the lust burning in Will's gaze and it sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock. An involuntary gasp left his lips when Will smiled softly at him, stroked a hand over the back of the black man's head, then held the other out to Scott, the invitation clear in the curl of his fingers. What the fuck are you doing, Turner? His feet seemed to be ignoring every message from his brain, as they carried him closer to the four men.
He had no idea what he was doing when he slipped his fingers into Will's, but he allowed the other man to pull him in. The man paying close attention to Will's chest, moved around to Scott's other side and slid his hands beneath Scott's shirt, warming his skin. The movement pressed him into Will's side, his crotch grinding into the meat of Will's upper thigh. His breath hissed between his teeth at the delicious friction. Staring deep into Will's eyes, his gaze dropped to full lips when Will's hand curled around the back of his neck and drew him in until there was barely a breath between them—each man's exhalations being swallowed by the other.
The sound of Will's breathy "Scott" had the effect of a bucket of cold water being thrown over him. Scott blinked owlishly just as Will brought their mouths together. He had no idea what the hell was going on, in either Will's or his own head. But he knew for sure that this wasn't how he wanted the other man, not here. Not in the near dark in the sleazy back room, rushed and unsatisfactory, with God only knew how many men watching, and even participating. Participating? Shit!
Scott wrenched his mouth away from Will's ignoring the other man's groan and grabbed hold of the fingers currently fumbling with the buttons on his partner's pants. He shrugged off the hands of the man behind him and threw him a heated glare over his shoulder. He turned his attention back to the black man who was now kissing Will and the man who was staring up at him in confused bewilderment.
"I'm sorry, guys," he said with a cold smile. "This one's mine."
The three men took one look at the thinly disguised anger in Scott's stance and raised their hands in submission, simply moving away and disappearing into the crowd of bodies around them.
Will's eyes opened slowly, and his gaze locked on Scott's, confusion furrowing his brow. "What—?"
Scott glared at Will and the other man's mouth immediately snapped shut. Turning his attention back to Will's clothes, Scott quickly and deftly buckled Will's belt and buttoned his shirt. He didn't want to talk. Not here. Once Will's clothes were straightened, Scott grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the curtain and back into the club. He wound his way through the crowd of dancing men and tightened his hold on Will, not wanting to lose him. His frustration must have shown on his face, because neither of them were bothered by the other patrons as Scott fought their way to the exit.
Once they were outside in the cold night air, Scott caught the eye of one of the bouncers, who nodded without a word at his brief explanation and trotted out into the street to hail a cab. Throwing thanks over his shoulder, he bundled an extremely quiet and forlorn looking Will into the back seat and slid in beside him. After giving the driver the address, Scott leaned back against the head rest and looked out of the window. The tension in the back of the cab was palpable. He was afraid to speak. Afraid of what might come flying out of his mouth if he didn't get his emotions under control. What emotions, Scottee? Anger, jealousy, desire, and dare I say it, betrayal? Scott ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes against the voice echoing around his head. Yes, betrayal. But what gave him the right to feel betrayed? Will hadn't cheated on him. They weren't a couple for Christ's sake. For crying out loud, if Will had cheated on anyone in this whole stupid mess, it was his girlfriend. Not him. He resumed his staring out of the window and watched the buildings whizz by as the cab took them out of the city.
The cab driver pulled up to the gates of Laurel Heights and Scott leaned out of the window to press the security code into the pad. The gates whirred into life, opening inwards and the driver steered the cab to a stop outside number four. Leaning over the passenger seat, Scott handed the cab driver the fare and then opened his door. He strode around to the other side, yanked Will's door open and grabbed a handful of his shirt to haul him out with. Slamming the door behind the other man, he pushed him up the path to the front door. He wrestled with the lock, his own champagne consumption fueling his anger. Finally, the key turned and he shoved a morose looking Will over the threshold, kicking the door shut and then slamming the lock home.
Throwing his keys onto the hall table, Scott crowded up behind Will and urged him forward. "Get upstairs," he ground out through clenched teeth, pushing the other man up the stairs to the master bedroom, and into the en suite. Pulling open the glass door, he set the shower to cold and shoved Will under the spray, fully clothed.
"What the fuck?" Will sputtered, cursing loudly and shaking water from his eyes.
"Maybe that'll cool you off!" Scott threw a towel at him and stormed into the bedroom, leaving Will to stare at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Toeing off his shoes, he paced up and down the plush carpet, muttering to himself. A few minutes later, Will padded out into the bedroom with a towel secured around his waist, obviously having shed his wet clothes where he stood and leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor. Which he'll fucking expect me to pick up in the morning! Scott stopped pacing when he drew level with Will and jabbed him in the chest with a pointed finger. "Are you going to tell me what the fuck you're doing?"
"None of your fucking business," Will shot back, rubbing his hair with another towel that he held in his hand. "Who are you, my mother?"
Ignoring the petulant glare Will threw him, Scott bit back the desire to slap him stupid and ground out, "What were you trying to prove?"
"I wasn't trying to prove anything! I would have thought that what I was doing was obvious," Will spat. "I was trying to get off."
"In the back room of a gay club?" Scott's gaze was incredulous.
"What does it matter where? And you didn't seem to mind the show."
"Don't be an asshole!" Scott felt a flush of warmth in his cheeks as an image of Will beckoning to him flashed across his mind. "What the hell is wrong with you? We're on a job! This isn't you! For God's sake talk to me, Will. I don't understand what's going on in that moronic head of yours!" He gasped and almost took a step back when Will's gaze hardened, and he moved toward him.
"You want to know what's going on in my head? You sure about that, Scott?" Will practically snarled the words as he approached Scott with purpose in each step. "Okay, I'll tell you. You! You're in my fucking head! I've tried to get you out, but I can't. You're everywhere I turn. Under my skin." Will crowded into Scott's space, his voice rising with every word. "I can smell you on me. Can't scrub your scent clean. Can't stop wanting you. Believe me, I've tried, but I can't."
Scott watched in bemused amazement as Will walked backwards and sank down onto the edge of the bed. What? Can't stop wanting me? Under his skin? What?
"Stupid dumb. Harrison. Breaks the golden rule and falls for the straight guy." He lifted his gaze to Scott's, a frown on his forehead. "And I'm so sorry about the other night. I couldn't help myself. I needed you so bad, and when you kissed me back—" He hung his head and tossed the towel he held in his hands to the floor. "So, go on, have a good laugh. Go back to the station and tell everyone the secret's out. Macho Will Harrison is a big fat homo."
"A week in Laurel Heights and you think you're gay?" Scott wanted to take the words back as soon as he saw the hurt and frust
ration in Will's eyes. Hurt and frustration he had seen in the mirror a million times.
"Don't be a jerk, not now," Will pleaded, his shoulders slumping in defeat as if all the fight suddenly left him. "You may as well know it all. I came out when I was eighteen. But I experienced firsthand how gay cops are treated, when the other cadets in my class forced one of my classmates out within three weeks of starting at the academy. He told me, just before he left, not to let them know, or they'd steal my dream too. So, I shut my mouth and came up with this whole other Will Harrison. The one with Amanda, pretty little dark-haired girl, engaged, building the perfect life together. Not that anyone ever met her, and nor would they, since she's the girl who came with the photo frame. There is no Amanda! Never has been. I became the cop everybody thought I should be, so I could get to where I wanted to go." He sighed heavily and huffed out a joyless laugh. "Then came Laurel Heights. How nuts is this, huh? A gay man who pretends to be straight, having to pretend to be gay? When we find the shooter, I'm going to be giving him an extra kick in the pants, just from me."
"Will—"
"Look, can we just be kind and rewind? I'd appreciate it if you could forget that I threw myself at you. Oh, and the part where you saw me in the back room of The Rose with two men, it would be cool if you could kind of gloss over that one, too."
"Three."
"What?"
"It was three men," Scott said softly. Shut up, Scott! Why are you still talking?
"Thanks for that," Will said, his tone derisive. "I guess I'll go sleep in the other room."