by Jane Davitt
“You’re a complete stranger.” The truth of that struck deeply. “You left and morphed into this art-appreciating, suit-wearing alien or something. I don’t know you.”
Gary glanced back over his shoulder. “And you’ve never fucked a stranger?”
Good point.
Abe rose, took out a dishtowel from a drawer, and joined Gary by the sink. “I might not know the men I pick up in bars, but it’s different. They’re at the bar to get picked up and fucked. You were more than that to me once. I can’t treat you like a one-night stand.”
“Emily Post would approve of you.” There was a mocking twist to Gary’s mouth when he passed Abe a dripping plate. “So what did you mean?”
Abe watched the towel move over the wet plate as if it was someone else’s hand doing the drying. “Watch a movie, catch up, and dig us out when the storm ends. I don’t know. Believe me, I wasn’t thinking about sex.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He was awake, after all. In fact, it wasn’t true at all. He couldn’t see this Gary being interested in him as anything but a pity fuck for nostalgia’s sake, but he was damned if he’d share that with Gary and get a smirk of agreement back.
“Why not?” Gary lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You know I’m gay, you don’t have a problem with one-night stands, and if I’m not your type these days, I’m better than your hand.” He gave Abe a smile holding more than a tinge of arrogance but something more beneath it. Bitterness. “Much better. I’ve learned some fun tricks.”
“So how come a sex god like you isn’t with someone?”
Gary flinched. He tried to control it, but Abe stood too close to miss the way the muscles tightened around his mouth and his shoulders hunched up the smallest bit. “I thought you didn’t want my life story.”
“You’d need to share it with me to answer one question?” Abe countered.
Gary mulled that over. “Short version, maybe not.” He rinsed off a fork with more attention to detail than the act warranted, then let it slip out of his fingers and back into the soapy water. “I’ve been with someone for years, but he died a month ago. There hasn’t been time to find someone else yet. It’s been hectic, you know?”
“God.” Without thinking, Abe dropped the towel onto the counter and put his hand on Gary’s arm, squeezing it gently. Gary had to be hurting in the worst way. It explained his prickly arrogance and flashes of vulnerability.
He felt like a total shit now, though he hadn’t known, of course. He also experienced a wave of pure jealousy, and wasn’t that ridiculous, seeing how many men he’d been with since Gary left? Gary didn’t belong to him. Not now, not for a long time. “I’m sorry. Jesus, I need to learn when to button it, don’t I?”
Gary didn’t quite shrug Abe’s hand away, but he eased his arm free pointedly. “I don’t need you sobbing over me. I miss him, yes, of course I do, but what we had started out as a business arrangement and I never let myself forget that. Peter wasn’t the love of my life. He was my employer—in the bedroom as well as at the office.”
Any shred of sympathy Abe had felt was swamped by his surprise. “You’re a hooker? That’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” Abe didn’t have a moral problem with someone swapping sex for money—their business—but at his horniest he’d never been tempted to use a hooker. The local trade always looked tired, grubby, and profoundly unappealing. Gary didn’t—would never—fit his mental picture of what a prostitute looked like, but Abe supposed, thinking it over, that a rich man could afford something a few steps up from dead-eyed teenagers or methheads.
“I was the personal secretary to a rich, successful businessman,” Gary corrected him. “I was good at my job and I earned my salary. My working hours extended past five o’clock by a long way.” He flicked at a mound of bubbles in the sink, reminding Abe of how he’d kicked at the snow. Both were soft targets that couldn’t fight back. “It feels weird talking about it, but it doesn’t matter now, I guess. It was an open secret I sucked Peter’s dick under the desk any time he wanted it. The company fired me as soon as he was six feet deep.”
“Jesus, you’re too fucking much.” Abe turned to pick up the towel again for no better reason than to hide his expression. He could see Gary on his knees, a dark, perfectly pressed pair of pants getting ruined, his mouth forced into a circle by the cock pushed inside it, the way the suit he was blowing would lounge back in his chair, barely bothering to move, letting Gary work him over good. Shit. It was wrong to get turned on, but he was, unbearably so. He remembered their last encounter too well. “How old was he?” Lust constricted his throat until he had difficulty forcing out the words. He saw this Peter guy taking a handful of Gary’s dark red hair, using it to speed up the bob and duck of Gary’s head, controlling the blowjob, controlling Gary. He wanted to find somewhere quiet and jerk off while the images floated around in his head.
Except, he was getting hard thinking about Gary being used, and that was wrong on every level. He felt sorry for Gary, damn it. Gary had always been the one in control; that had always felt right for both of them. People didn’t change that much.
“When I met him,” Gary said, “he was sixty-two and I was around twenty-four. And no, neither of us was being taken advantage of, and you can take that doe-eyed look of pity off your face too. I wasn’t desperate or starving.”
“I didn’t— Yeah, I’m sure it was—” Abe licked his lips and gave up on appearing laid-back. “Uh, okay, I won’t lie. That’s—”
“None of your business,” Gary said, sweetness coating venom. “Tell me, though, the idea of me going to my knees when he snapped his fingers—and that’s what he did—does it disturb you or turn you on?” Before Abe could back away, Gary had his palm on Abe’s erection, mapping it with a casual stroke of his fingers. “Well, that’s answered my question.” He put his hands back into the water.
Abe closed his eyes for long enough to regain control. It wasn’t easy. He’d wanted to grind against that light touch and get Gary to tighten his grip. If Gary had snapped his fingers by way of illustration, Abe wasn’t sure his knees wouldn’t have tried to bend.
He wished he could blame his sudden, savage arousal on the blow to the head he’d gotten, but he would have to lie to himself to do it, and that was as stupid as it got.
“I’m sorry.” He formed the words carefully, as if he were drunk and trying not to show it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my questions.”
“You’re apologizing to me? Why?” Gary dumped their knives and forks onto the draining board and pulled the plug. “I’m the one who groped your junk uninvited. Don’t worry, I won’t charge you for it.”
“If I’d wanted to stop you, I could’ve.”
“Yeah?”
Gary telegraphed the move, but if it’d been unexpected and twice as fast, Abe would still have been able to block the hand reaching out to cup his balls. He was protective of them. His fingers closed around Gary’s wrist. It was thin and strong, the muscles flexing against his palm, a message he couldn’t read. “Yeah.” Letting go of Gary’s wrist left his hand feeling empty, but Abe didn’t have any reason to keep holding on. He’d made his point. “You’re right, though, I didn’t need to apologize. You wanted me to call you a hooker or you wouldn’t have put it the way you did. I don’t like being played. If you don’t want my sympathy, that’s fine.”
Gary did something flirtatious and fake with those long eyelashes of his, fluttering them until Abe could swear he felt a breeze. “Maybe I wanted you to disagree with me.”
“I might when I know the whole story, but right now all I’ve got is you telling me you owed your job to how well you suck dick. I’m not seeing how that’s much different from what a hooker does. The fact you had to put in time at a desk as well makes me wonder how good a value your boss thought you were in bed.”
Gary gave a huff of amusement, no outrage showing on his face. “The job was part of the sex, sweetheart, but I don’t expect you to understa
nd. Hell, sometimes I didn’t know how Peter’s mind worked, but I didn’t need to. I had to do what I was told. Exactly what I was told. We played it kinky. Want to hear all about it?”
Abe stepped back and held up his hands, part surrender and part rejection. “No. No more. Please, Fox. I don’t know why you’re telling me all this—”
The amusement had left Gary’s face now. “Yeah, that makes two of us. I guess a dam doesn’t get to pick its moment to burst—or it could be because I’m leaving soon and it doesn’t matter what I tell you.”
Messy. Abe didn’t do messy. He did casual and he did quick. He did no-real-names-exchanged friendly sex, and if he hungered for more from time to time, he wasn’t starving. Could’ve been worse.
“Can we do this some other time? Like when it’s not two in the fucking morning and my head isn’t pounding?” Shit, he was flat-out begging here, and all he needed to do was turn and walk away.
“Sure.” Gary’s agreement was too immediate to be anything but suspect. “I’m surprised. Exactly what got you so hard? I thought you were going to make a move. Get some novelty in, a taste of the sinful city. But I guess the country mouse is insecure. It’s sweet. I think. Or annoying because, come on, Abel—”
“Abe.” Jesus, Gary knew how to annoy him.
“You have to know you’re still hot, even with that black eye and eleven extra years on the clock.” Gary pursed his lips, and Abe suffered through a critical head-to-toe once-over. “Let’s see. Tall, love that, and yeah, I dig those wide shoulders, always did. Nice to have something to hang on to when you’re getting fucked through the mattress. Long legs, great ass . . . you could trim down a bit, lose five or ten pounds, but it’s winter and you’ve probably been eating too many of those cookies I still haven’t gotten to try. I have to mark you down for your fashion sense, but you’d clean up good. As rough trade goes, you’re a solid eight.”
“Thanks,” Abe said dryly. “My mom will be so proud of me.”
“Your mom . . .” For the first time, Abe saw a glimpse of the old Gary—the real Gary. “How is she? And your dad?”
“They’re fine, both of them. They’re away right now, taking a break in Florida. Dad’s got some issues with his back and the cold makes them worse. They do the snowbird thing most winters.” Abe hesitated. “I’m sorry about your mom. We heard too late to go to the funeral, but—”
“I didn’t go either, so don’t sweat it.” The indifference in Gary’s voice wasn’t convincing. “Yeah, she moved away a year after I left, right?”
“Something like that.”
And died three years after that, though Abe was hazy on the details. Cancer, like her husband. He’d heard his parents discussing “poor Kathleen” with pity in their voices, and remembered the years of neglect that’d formed the shell around Gary. He’d been too young to make allowances for her grief at losing her husband, and now he wasn’t sure she deserved them, harsh a judgment though that was. She’d hurt Gary, and Gary had passed the pain along to Abe in some ways.
“So is she?” Gary inquired, a spark of interest showing. “Proud of you, I mean?”
“Sure. Why not? I’ve never been in jail, I’ve got a job, I don’t forget her birthday, and—”
“And you’re gay. How did that go down, by the way? Obviously they didn’t tell you not to darken their doors again like my darling mom did.”
“She worries about me getting beaten up by some gay-hating jerks, and she nags me about meeting someone special, but if you’re expecting me to come out with a sob story of being shunned and rejected, sorry. My cousin Jerry once called me a cock-sucking fag when he was drunk and I’d beaten him at poker, right in front of my dad and my uncle. You can ask him how being shunned feels. That was three years ago and my mom still looks right through him when the family meets up, as if he doesn’t exist.”
“You’re lucky.” Gary’s voice was flat. “Everything about your life is so fucking perfect. Always was, always will be.”
“You say that like it makes you hate me.”
“Yeah? I’d have to be an asshole to do that, wouldn’t I? Oh wait . . . I am.”
Abe rubbed his lips with the back of his hand, uneasily aware of the hostile glint in Gary’s eyes. “I’m drifting through life, doing odd jobs and going nowhere. I’ve never been more than a few hundred miles away from home, and I’ve never dated anyone seriously and don’t see that changing. I wouldn’t say it adds up to perfect, but, yeah, I’ve got a nice family, and I won’t apologize for that. I know how lucky I am, if that helps.”
“It doesn’t.” Gary turned when he said it to walk away.
Abe watched him take two steps before deciding to speak. “You asked me a question. You wanted to know what had gotten me hard. Are you still interested in the answer?”
“Not really.”
“Liar.”
Gary swung around to face him. He was clear on the other side of the kitchen, and Abe wanted him closer, the way they’d been standing at the sink with the apple scent of the soapy water in the air.
“You want to tell me, go ahead. What got that nice big dick of yours sitting up and begging?”
This was difficult, but Abe had been brought up to tell the truth and shame the devil. He sucked on his bottom lip, worrying at it with his teeth. “It was the thought of you on your knees blowing that guy. Your boss. Peter.”
From across the room he saw the glaze of indifference. “Yeah?”
“And what you said he did to get you there.” God, how had such simple words been so hard to say? He lifted his hand and put his fingers where they needed to be to make the sharp, crisp click he could hear in his head, echoing without fading. “That.”
“It won’t work for you.” There was a scornful twist to Gary’s lips. “You’re not Peter. Whole different set of rules for you, Abe. Sorry.”
Gary would walk away, close his door, Abe knew it. He didn’t want that to happen. He could keep his life as it was, mellow—no, stale—with sameness, or he could spice it up, add some heat.
Gary had said this was temporary. It didn’t count. They could tell each other anything, do anything, play out any fantasy they liked with the sure and certain knowledge that in a few days Gary would continue his journey and disappear from Abe’s life. Gary leaving was as safe a bet as the sun coming up. There was nothing for him here, never had been. The way Gary had blossomed in his time away, even if the sophistication seemed mostly a veneer, proved that. Bigger and better things. That was what Gary had wanted, and good for him, he’d gone out and gotten them.
Abe forced his voice louder, hoped that it was steady.
“It would work if you did it to me.”
Gary smiled. He couldn’t help it. Abe was so adorably sincere, but there was no fucking way he could step into Gary’s shoes, not even for as long as it took to deliver a blowjob.
“You’re looking for a walk on the wild side? That’s sweet. Honey, you’re a vanilla milkshake with a cherry on top. Save the cherry for someone else to eat.”
Abe walked forward, big enough, solid enough, pissed enough that Gary had to work not to step back. “You want to say that again, Gary?” Abe drawled out his name in a calm, level tone more intimidating than yelling. “Because, you know, I never saw myself as the kinky type, but I don’t qualify as a timid virgin. I’ve played it safe, I’m not stupid, but I’ve been with two guys at once a few times, and enjoyed it, and you won’t shock me. Since you left, I’ve done plenty.”
“I can snap my fingers until they drop off, but it wouldn’t get me what Peter had,” Gary said. “You’re not like me. And what makes you think I want to relive it from any angle? Years of being trained to please one man and now he’s gone. Maybe it means I’m free. Let me enjoy it. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
“So you want to jerk off instead of letting me blow you?” Abe shrugged, covering up any pique he felt well enough Gary couldn’t see it—or there was nothing to see because it didn’t exist
. “Okay. Don’t get it on the sheets.”
“I wasn’t allowed to jerk off unless Peter was watching.” Gary watched for Abe’s reaction. “I’m getting a real kick out of doing it every chance I get.”
Abe disappointed him. His expression didn’t alter by the twitch of an eyelash. “You know, that sounds dramatic, but we both know it doesn’t give you hairy hands, and I’m guessing you could get it up when you had to, so he wouldn’t be able to tell what you’d done when you were alone. If you kept your hands off your cock, it was because you got a kick out of obeying him—or you’re lying.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not lying, and there are ways of making sure someone doesn’t jerk off. Ever heard of a cock cage? A chastity belt?”
“He used one of those on you?” Abe’s eyes widened in what was clearly fake amazement. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. There is no way you would agree to that.”
“How the fuck do you know what I go for these days?” He was annoyed Abe had refused to buy that particular fabrication. “Some guys find it hot. The ultimate surrender.”
“Yeah, but not you.” Abe grinned. “I’ve seen pictures of those things. It’d ruin the line of your pants. No way you’d go for that now you’re on first names with Mr. fucking Armani.”
Gary couldn’t help grinning back, his momentary annoyance fading. “Giorgio. And you’re so right. Okay, I made that part up. I could jerk off all I wanted—and if Peter didn’t want me to, there’s no way he would’ve put me in a cage to make sure I obeyed him.”
“Why not?” Abe asked, as if curiosity had overcome his reluctance to discuss Gary’s sex life. “He wouldn’t have gotten off on holding your key?”
Gary found he looked forward to Abe’s occasional attempts at sarcasm. They were cute, like the hiss and spit of a frustrated kitten.
“Oh, Peter loved holding that.” He gave a wink designed to make Abe roll his eyes, which he did. “But if you think about it, the cage would’ve meant admitting he couldn’t control my dick without it. Besides, we didn’t need it. Any instruction he gave me was carried out to the letter. That’s what I’d agreed to. He knew that.”