Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  Finally talk came around to what each of them was doing there that night. When Johnny asked Adam if he was sub or Dom, Adam quipped, “What do you want me to be?”

  Johnny raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if he’d elaborate. Adam obliged. “I’m a switch. I can go either way. I get off on submitting to a strong, dominant man, but I also enjoy using a boy, making him grovel and lick my boots and thank me for whipping him to shreds.” Leaning very close to Johnny, Adam whispered in his ear, “I’d like to make you cry, pussy boy. To make you squeal while I rammed your ass with a huge dildo until you begged for mercy. I’d like to make you bleed.”

  Johnny blinked at this, pulling his head away. Was Eric the only romantic Dom in the tri-state area? How had he been so incredibly lucky to find such a genuine, loving person in Eric? How easily his first experience could have been with someone like Jeff or Adam. Johnny stood up. “I’m sorry. Doesn’t sound like something I’d be into, thanks just the same.”

  After a debriefing with Eric, Johnny again returned to the fray, wondering if this had been such a good idea. It had sounded sexy and fun, but he was coming to realize picking up someone he actually wanted to spend time with was as difficult as at any straight bar—more difficult in a way, because these men expected action from the get-go.

  “We can just leave if you want, Johnny,” Eric said. “We could try it again another time.” Johnny smiled and shook his head. Eric was always letting him off the hook. And Johnny wasn’t stupid—he knew part of Eric’s motivation was to give Johnny someone to play with so he wouldn’t stray with someone like Albert.

  Albert… As it had before, the fantasy of the tall, sexy black man leapt uninvited into his mind. He was standing naked, pushing Johnny to his knees as he held out his huge cock, silently commanding Johnny to serve him, to take him, to be used by him… Or Albert kneeling before Johnny, taking his cock deep into his throat, suckling him until Johnny exploded with pleasure… Johnny shook his head. It was only fantasy, ignited because of Albert’s stolen kisses. Johnny was in love with Eric. Tonight he would do his best to please his lover. By finding someone at Eric’s specific command, Johnny would reaffirm his commitment. He wouldn’t let Eric down.

  “Third time the charm?”

  “Excuse me?” Johnny had been standing with his back to the bar, staring out into the throng of men, wondering if there was one there for them tonight. He turned to see a slight man he guessed to be in his late thirties, with receding dark hair and round hazel eyes. He wasn’t especially handsome until he smiled. Then with his eyes crinkling to half moons and his mobile mouth framed by deep dimples, his face became a study in joy. Johnny found himself smiling back, drawn to the man despite himself.

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind but I’ve been watching you. Indeed, it’s hard to see anything else in your golden light. The rest of the place is in your shadow.”

  Johnny smiled at the flattery. The man continued. “I watched you with Desperate Jeff—he’s a fixture around here and always hones in on the newbies. I also watched you with the dangerous-looking brunet in the black leather. Whatever did he whisper in your ear to make you blush like a schoolgirl?” Johnny didn’t answer and the man shrugged. “I watched you slip into the booth in between attempts, where I’m guessing your master is waiting? The gorgeous Latino everyone is drooling over, along with you of course. So I’m hoping I’m number three, with all its magical properties afforded to me.”

  “What? You’ve been watching me? Us? This place is wall-to-wall guys. I didn’t see you.”

  “Well, you weren’t exactly looking. Men like you don’t have to look. The world comes to you. Allow me to introduce myself.” He smiled that radiant smile again. “I’m Kevin Sanders. I recognize the handsome Eric Méndez from DeSoto’s back in the city. He was a god there before some wretched bastard stole him away from the scene.”

  As Johnny started to protest, Kevin laughed again. “I’m teasing! I can see now where our dear Eric disappeared to. Who wouldn’t leave the raunchy, heartless pickup scene for a gorgeous man like you? And a sub too? Lucky, lucky Eric.” Kevin put his hand up to Johnny’s throat, fingering the silver padlock with a knowing expression.

  Johnny pulled back, nonplussed but intrigued. This man seemed to know so much about him already! And yet, instead of feeling violated by the man’s secret attentions, Johnny felt curiously aroused. And certainly this Kevin had good taste as far as Eric went! Johnny felt warm with possessive pride. He recalled his mission and turned to Kevin. “So you know Eric, huh?”

  “Not personally. I know of him. I was always one of the onlookers on the edge of the crowd around him, knowing there was no way in hell a man like that would look at me.”

  “He’s not like that. Not at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he didn’t go there and just point his finger and pick someone new to take home. He cares about who he’s with. He’s very selective. Eric isn’t just some guy on the make, ready to use a guy and send him on his way. He’s tender and thoughtful and gracious and kind.”

  Kevin laughed. “Boy, you’ve got it bad, huh? They say love is blind, though in this case I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Though I think you may have a somewhat skewed view of your boyfriend, he did have a reputation for honesty and integrity. He wasn’t on the make, like so many guys in the scene. But here’s what I don’t get.” He leaned forward. “Eric Méndez was the ice king. I mean, he was pleasant and all, I don’t mean that, but it was understood. If you were lucky enough to go home with Eric, you left when you were told, which was almost always before dawn. Eric didn’t fall in love. Period. What did you do, cast a spell on him?”

  Johnny smiled and shook his head. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard of Eric’s reserve. In a moment of bald honesty he blurted, “I really don’t know! I don’t know why Eric is in love with me. I just know I’m the luckiest guy in the world and he’s made me happier than I ever dreamed. He’s the we of me.”

  “Pardon? Aside from the schoolboy gushing, what was that last thing you said?”

  “He’s the we of me. I read that in a book once and it stuck with me. I like to read. I like the turn of that phrase.” Johnny flushed a little, suddenly embarrassed. Why was he telling this stranger he was in love with Eric?

  “I like it. I’ve read it too. Carson McCullers if I’m not mistaken. A Member of the Wedding.”

  “Yes!” Johnny said, delighted at Kevin’s recognition. They began to talk about her work and about their other favorite authors, finding much in common. Johnny relaxed, forgetting for the moment he was supposed to be acting cool, putting the moves on a guy to ensnare him for an evening of submissive play.

  Eric watched Johnny and the man he recognized as Kevin though he couldn’t recall his last name. He marveled at how small the gay BDSM community really was—with only a few really good hangouts to meet and interact. He’d never really spoken to Kevin, but he was aware of him as a sub in the scene. As far as he knew, Kevin had no significant other, though Eric no longer had his finger on the pulse of gay D/s nightlife.

  How comfortable Johnny looked with him, relaxed at last on his stool, gesturing and smiling. What were they talking about? Eric felt a cold finger of jealousy draw over his heart. He forced himself to reject the feeling. Johnny was allowed to talk and laugh with another man. Eric didn’t want a mindless slave, he didn’t want to isolate Johnny or keep him from having friends. Kevin was a nice guy as far as Eric knew. He would wait to see what the evening would offer.

  After a while Johnny and Kevin stood up from the bar and moved toward Eric’s booth. They both slid into the seat on the opposite side. “Eric, this is Kevin Sanders. You apparently need no introduction.”

  Eric smiled as he shook Kevin’s hand. “Eric Méndez,” Kevin breathed, his eyes shining. “I’ve had a crush on you since I first laid eyes on you four years ago. I never thought I’d actually get to meet you.”

  Eric frowned.
“Oh stop. I’m just some guy, nothing special. Johnny’ll tell you.” Eric had never completely gotten used to the lavish attention paid to his looks. Often told he looked like Johnny Depp, he knew he was considered handsome but his natural modesty prevented him from fully appreciating what others saw in him.

  “You won’t get any help there, I’m afraid,” Kevin laughed. “Johnny spent the first half of our conversation telling me how amazing and wonderful you are!”

  Eric smiled. “And the second half?”

  “Well,” Kevin said, “I think there were three halves.” They all laughed.

  Johnny added, “The second of the three halves was about literature. Kevin’s read Carson McCullers. He recognized my quote! And you know, I didn’t realize she was gay! She did write about homosexuality though. Kevin’s got a really good biography about her he’s going to lend me.”

  Eric smiled, pleased Johnny had made a connection, not allowing silly jealousy any more airtime in his head. “What was the quote?”

  “Oh,” Johnny said softly, smiling shyly at Eric. “That you are the we of me.” Eric smiled, putting his hand over Johnny’s.

  Kevin looked tolerantly amused. “Tell him about the third half.”

  Johnny sat up and said, “Well, um. I did what you said. What we talked about. I mean, Kevin is sub and he’s totally smitten with you.”

  “With both of you,” Kevin interjected.

  “Well, um,” Johnny’s cheeks were pink. “So anyway, he said he would like to come back with us. To the hotel room. If we wanted him to, that is.”

  “Would you excuse us a moment, Kevin?” Eric asked.

  “Oh sure. Can I get either of you a refresher?” Eric and Johnny both declined. Kevin stood up and slid out of the booth, walking across the bar to get himself another beer.

  “So?” Eric said. “Is he the one? I know Kevin vaguely from the city. I’ve never really talked to him. He’s decent-looking. He seems like a nice guy. Can you see yourself using him, whipping him, possibly fucking him?”

  Eric watched Johnny closely as he responded, aware he didn’t always say everything on his mind. “I like him. I think I could see us playing with him. But here’s the thing. Now that we got to talking, he’s, I know this sounds weird, but he’s become more real to me.”

  “More real?”

  “Yeah. See, I guess I was thinking of us finding a boy to play with as a game. You know, someone to use but not someone we really cared about. Like with Steve—I didn’t know him at all. We didn’t exchange more than a few words.” He looked at Eric. “Don’t get me wrong! I mean, it was fun. It was hot and I enjoyed it, but he was like, well, like an object. What did you say he was—just an extension of our lovemaking?”

  Eric nodded as Johnny continued. “Yeah. So that was cool, but I don’t know, maybe because we like the same authors, I guess Kevin and I connected in a way so I can’t now go and treat him like an object. I don’t want to, I guess is what I’m saying. I don’t want to just whip him or fuck him or whatever as if he had no feelings, no connection to us other than his cock and his desire to submit.”

  “I love you, Johnny.”

  Johnny looked up, confused but pleased. “What? But I’m not doing what you said, right? I mean, you wanted me to find us a toy and instead I found a—”

  “A friend. Someone you like. Not just a piece of ass.”

  Johnny nodded, looking unhappy. Eric put his hand on Johnny’s arm. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I asked you to do that because I thought it would be fun for us—for you. Something sexy and different. And yes, an extension of our lovemaking, a way for us to connect on a different level. And a way to give you a new experience.”

  “I know,” Johnny said. “I know you want that. You want to give me guys so I won’t run off on my own to find one.”

  Eric nodded, chagrined. “I’m pretty transparent, huh?”

  “I love you for it, Eric. You’re vulnerable just like anyone else. I know the only way I’m going to prove to you you’re the one I want is to stick around and show you every day.”

  “Okay, deal,” Eric said, grinning widely. “Now what do we do about Kevin? He’s waiting for our decree, isn’t he?”

  “Well,” Johnny said, flashing his beautiful smile. “Let’s take him back to the hotel, why not? He wants to come and we like him. Whatever happens, happens, right? I belong to you, Eric. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Thank you, Johnny.”

  ~*~

  In the heated sweetness that followed, Kevin awoke from an orgasmic-induced doze to see the dark tousled head on his right and the blond tousled head on his left. Each had an arm thrown loosely over his chest, their fingers entwined.

  “I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he murmured, marveling at his position between the two sleeping angels. Of course in a few minutes, maybe a few hours, one or the other would awaken and Kevin knew he would be sent back to the land of mere mortals. “But for just this moment, for this brief moment in time, they are the we of me.” Smiling, he put his hand over theirs before drifting back to sleep.

  Chapter 11

  “Relax, Johnny. She’ll like the food, I promise.” Johnny kept moving nervously around the kitchen, getting in Eric’s way as he chopped vegetables for the fish marinating in minced garlic and fresh lime juice. He tossed onions, green peppers and garlic into the olive oil on the stove to sauté while he turned his attention to the batter for the cheese fritters.

  Unlike Johnny, who could barely boil an egg, Eric was an accomplished cook, having learned at the knee of his abuela, his grandmother, and a host of aunts, not to mention his mother. Though he liked to make all kinds of food, Puerto Rican home cooking was still his favorite. Johnny, who had been raised on meatloaf and fried chicken, had been hesitant to try some of the more unusual foods, like squid stew and morcilla—a rice dish containing pork blood and tripe. But Eric’s Puerto Rican chicken and rice had become Johnny’s favorite, along with the aranitas, plantain banana pancakes served with a mojito sauce of olive oil and pressed garlic.

  “She likes plain stuff, you know, American stuff,” Johnny said.

  Eric smiled as he added tomatoes, olives and capers to the pan and turned down the flame. He would sauté the fish just before they were ready to eat. For now he turned his attention to the buñuelos de queso, cheese fritters made from a simple batter of eggs, milk, sugar, flour, baking powder, salt and cheddar cheese. These Eric would deep fry in hot oil at the same time he cooked the fish.

  “Not to worry. I’m just making white fish with a mild sauce and little breads with grated cheese. We’ll have a standard green salad and for dessert your favorite mango sherbet.” Johnny smiled and Eric knew he was recalling the first time Eric had served him the sweet confection, early on in their relationship. As he had done often since, Eric had Johnny kneel before him, his hands behind his back as he fed him, a symbolic gesture of ownership that pleased them both.

  Johnny had awoken early that Saturday morning, already dusting and mopping by the time Eric roused himself a little after nine. “We ought to have your mom come by more often,” he laughed. “The place would be much cleaner as a result.”

  While Johnny cleaned, Eric went into the playroom, hiding all traces of their BDSM lifestyle, carefully placing all the toys in the sideboard before locking it and dropping the key in his pocket. Removing the chains that hung from heavy ceiling hooks, he attached potted plants usually kept on the balcony for just this purpose.

  Johnny glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. “She’ll be here any second. My mom is always very prompt. I should have gone to meet her at the station. What if she gets lost?”

  “Didn’t she say she was taking a cab from the subway and not to meet her because you might miss her in the crowd? She’s managed to get around all her life without you there to escort her. Just relax. Here. Have a Cuba Libre. I have a pitcher all made up. I think you could use a drink early.” Pouring chilled rum with fresh lime over a tall g
lass of ice, Eric added some cola and handed the drink to Johnny.

  “Yeah, I guess I am a little nervous. I mean, it’s one thing to see her on her own turf in Brooklyn. But having her here at your place—”

  “Our place,” Eric gently corrected.

  “Yeah,” Johnny laughed a little. “When I lived alone, it was in this little dump. An efficiency not far from my parents’ place—just one room I basically used to sleep and eat breakfast in. I didn’t care about the place. In a way, that little efficiency was just a way station while I waited for my real life to begin.”

  Eric poured himself a drink as well and lifted his glass toward Johnny. “To your real life.” Johnny clinked his glass against Eric’s just as the buzzer sounded.

  ~*~

  Johnny watched his mother look around the room. Unlike her homey apartment, decorated in browns and yellows, with knitted arm covers for the sofas and his dad’s recliner, cluttered with knickknacks and bric-a-brac and photographs of the three boys in every stage of their life, Eric’s decorating style was sparse and elegant. A low-slung black leather couch was flanked by tall bookshelves lined neatly with hardcover books. Across from a low black coffee table sat two matching black leather chairs. Framed prints of watercolor landscapes graced the warm yellow walls. Bright throw rugs were scattered over the blond hardwood floor.

  Johnny eyed his mother, noting her flushed cheeks. She seemed a little short of breath, though maybe that was because of the three flights of stairs she’d just climbed to reach Eric’s door. “Did you make it okay? You look a little tired.”

  “Oh I had no problem at all. The subways are so clean now. Back when I used to ride them more regularly, they were always filled with graffiti and trash. I’m just a little winded from the stairs is all. Good exercise though.” Ann smiled and touched her cheek. Johnny’s eye was drawn to a purple blotch there, covered ineffectually with makeup.

  Johnny felt rage like a red film falling over his eyes as he immediately assumed the worst. “Did that bastard touch you? If he hit you, I swear to God I’ll kill him!” Johnny felt Eric’s hand on his arm and resisted the urge to shrug it off.