by Jaime Samms
Damian grinned. “I doubt it.”
The match was short-lived. What Damian lacked in bulk, he made up for in height and reach. He had miles of it on Lenny, but he had to be quick. The little redhead was lightning fast, and Damian was smarting in a dozen places by the time Lenny hopped off him and made a dash for his room.
He didn’t get far. They both landed with a thud against the wall, laughing and out of breath, and then kissing, tongues thrashing, hands still grappling for dominance. It ended with Damian’s back to the wall, his lanky frame subdued not because Lenny outweighed him, but because the smaller man could outmaneuver him with seduction every time.
He let out a moan as Lenny’s knee pried between his legs and the guitarist’s small, supple hands snaked under his shirt.
“Len—fuck.” His head thudded against the wall under the onslaught of Lenny’s tongue coasting from his clavicle to his jaw.
His hands were suddenly free, and he didn’t know what to do with them. Experience reminded him to be careful, and he rested one gently on Lenny’s shoulder. The other, he skimmed down Lenny’s side, pausing at his hip, fingers digging for purchase as Lenny humped him.
Maybe this time….
But Lenny was already retreating. “Ya hard yet?” he asked, plucking delicately at Damian’s lips with his teeth.
“Fuck, yeah.” Damian blinked and forced his eyes open to look into Lenny’s. Pools of deep, dark blue. He’d never seen anyone else’s eyes change like that. “Yeah,” he croaked.
Lenny’s grin was pure devil.
“Good.” He stepped back and before Damian could find two functioning brain cells to figure out what was going on, Lenny was gone, into his room, a door slam and a trail of wicked laughter in his wake.
“Lenny!”
“Next time, help with the shopping, douchebag!” Lenny shouted from safely behind his locked door.
“Cock tease!”
“You’re just too easy.”
“C’mon!”
Lenny’s door opened and a box of tissues came sailing out. Damian barely caught them as they bounced off his chest, and Lenny was already closing the door again. “Hey!”
“Sorry. Need this too?” The door opened, a pump bottle of hand lotion flew at Damian’s head, and the door closed. “I got shit to do,” Lenny called through the door.
“I hate you!”
“Yeah, I know.” Lenny’s voice dropped. “Love you too, asshole. Enjoy.” A second later, the sound of his guitar drowned Damian’s thoughts and left him with nothing to throw back at his friend.
Fuck that. If he was going to get Damian hard and aching, then run off and pretend to be all dedicated and shit, Damian would jack off on his couch. As if that would stop him doing it again.
He glanced at the mess of disarrayed furniture and scattered magazines, the aftermath of their battle, and growled.
“Fuck that.” He palmed his dick and flopped onto the soft leather. With a few squirts of lotion and some mental scenery, it was easy to get from half-hard to raging once more. He was perfectly happy with his hand and a few choice images of Lenny’s legs spread and his ass in the air.
Only to his slight horror, the imagery fluxed and melted away, and it wasn’t Lenny’s face he was imagining, or his friend’s slight frame under him. It was a much older face, a much heavier build, and instead of brilliant blue eyes, the steady, paler ones of Stanley Krane peered down at him. Because it wasn’t Krane on his back. Oh no. It was Damian, and that was something he couldn’t ever picture happening with Lenny.
“Oh, fuck.” He closed his eyes and the image only intensified as he slumped down and stroked faster. “Je-sus!”
He remembered the strength of Stanley’s hands on the side of his head, the nape of his neck, and it was easy to imagine them gliding down his back, over his hips, positioning him, spreading him.
“Ohhh, fuck me,” he muttered. He couldn’t be bothered with opening his eyes to find the lotion. Instead, he used his own saliva to slick a finger as much as he could and rammed it inside his body. He groaned at the burn, wished he could reach farther and deeper than he was ever going to be able to, and knew as he shoved another finger inside himself why he was never going to end up with Lenny.
“Ungh!” It didn’t matter. The idea of Krane sucking him and digging into him was enough. He finished with a shout, come spurting over his shirt and oozing through his fingers on his cock.
“Was I good?” Lenny called.
Damian didn’t say anything. A flush of inexplicable guilt spread heat through him as Lenny’s door opened.
“Trev?”
Pulling himself together, because he could never admit to his friend he hadn’t actually been fantasizing about him, Damian heaved himself up and made a show of licking come from between his fingers.
Lenny grimaced. “Animal.”
Damian lunged, but predictably, the door slammed in his face. “Least I’m not a mouse,” he muttered. Carefully, because he didn’t want Lenny to know he cared, he tried the handle. Locked.
“Someday,” he promised. “Someday, you’re going to spill all your dirty little secrets, Leonard Stevens, I swear to God.”
But it wasn’t going to be today. Today, it was going to be healthy groceries in the fridge, a cock tease, and a locked door. Damian sighed and headed for the shower to the sound of Lenny’s guitar tripping its way over a new tune. It was a little bit sad and a little bit defiant. He liked it.
Lenny was still in his room when Damian emerged from the shower, so he investigated the results of Lenny’s shopping excursion and made them both a supper of salmon and salad. Healthy enough even for a picky, demanding guitar player’s exacting standards.
Lenny emerged from his room as Damian was scooping the fish from the pan. “You cooked?” He made a show of sniffing the meat on Damian’s spatula.
“You want to wear it? Get out of the way.” Damian planted a hand on Lenny’s chest and shoved him from the small kitchen space while Lenny snickered at him.
“You have to admit, it doesn’t happen very often.” He managed to snag a tender pink morsel off the hunk of salmon Damian was sliding onto a plate before being forced away. “Ohmygod.” He licked his lips and reached for more. “And it totally should. This is awesome!”
Damian grinned despite his attempt to be stern and annoyed. “I’m more than this pretty face and a decent set of pipes, you know.” He demonstrated by trilling off a few notes of the song Lenny had been working on.
The guitarist blushed. “So you heard that.”
“Of course.” Damian popped a bite of fish from the pan into his own mouth. “It’s got potential.”
“I know.” Seating himself at the breakfast bar, Lenny accepted the plate Damian handed him and picked up his fork. “All it needs is a set of lyrics.” He glanced up hopefully.
“Already on it.” With a tap to the side of his skull and a wink, he set to his own dinner. “Mmm. Shit. This is good.”
Lenny shouldered him playfully. “I never thought you were all that pretty anyway.”
“Because you’ve never had a proper look.”
“Well.” Lenny made a show of thinking about that. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s not it.” He studied Damian’s bare face and mohawk, still damp and shaggy from the shower. “Good thing you have other qualities, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
Lenny grinned. “I live to knock you down.”
Damian speared a broccoli floret and popped it into his mouth without comment.
They ate for a while in silence before Lenny spoke again. “So why were you half-hammered when I got home, anyway?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Were. And drinking vodka alone. So pissed off and hammered.”
“Not pissed off.” Damian set his fork down and stared at his half-eaten meal.
“Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”
“Everyone is pissed off at me.”
“Not pissed off,” Lenny ech
oed. “Annoyed. But when aren’t we annoyed with you? You’re an annoying kind of guy.”
“But what did I do?”
“That whine, for one thing,” Lenny pointed out. “Care for some cheese with it?”
Damian glared at him, refusing to be distracted by the way his roommate made a simple thing like eating gracefully sexy. Fuck, Damian needed to get out more.
“What you did,” Lenny went on between bites, “is go off on your own and talk to another agent without a word to any of us. Not even me. What was up with that?”
“All I did was talk. And put him in touch with Alice. That’s it.”
“Then why not mention it?”
Damian shrugged and picked at his food. “Didn’t know what to think about it, did I? After all, he called me. Or his secretary did, anyway. It wasn’t like I went hounding after the biggest manager in the business.”
Lenny’s fork clattered on his plate and Damian found himself on the receiving end of an incredulous stare. “Right. He came after you. Not us. You. And you think that didn’t warrant a mention? No. You thought, Oh, I know, I’ll have a secret meeting with the biggest big shot there is, put everyone’s career in jeopardy, and then act like I’ve done them all a huge favor. Nice one.”
“That isn’t—”
“That is exactly how it was, and you know it.”
“It was an opportunity. I had to take it. For all of us.”
“If it was for all of us, then all of us should have had a say in whether or not we wanted it.”
“Oh. My. God.” Damian nearly pushed his stool over, he got up so fast. “Are you seriously telling me anyone would have said no to a meeting with Stanley Krane?”
“You are so fucking full of yourself. I’m saying maybe we all would have liked to be in on a meeting that’s going to impact everything.” Lenny turned back to his supper. “But you didn’t think of that, did you? Just you, going ahead and making decisions for us all, like always.”
“I haven’t made any bad decisions yet,” Damian mumbled, sinking back into his seat.
“Yet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it means,” Lenny mumbled, and stuffed a forkful of lettuce and tomatoes in his mouth.
“It means you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not about trusting you.”
Damian waited.
“It’s about all of us getting where we are. Together. None of us did this on our own, and none of us should be making decisions for everyone else without talking it over. Hell, Clive and Alice didn’t even buy that house without talking to all of us. We helped them pick it out, for God’s sake, and that’s how we do things. Except for you. You just go along and do whatever you’re going to do and expect we’ll all pitter-patter along in your wake and be grateful.”
“So you don’t want to get in with the biggest, the best manager there is?”
Lenny slammed his fork down and stood. “God, Trev, you’re missing the point!”
“Damian,” he said automatically. “Only my mother still calls me Trevor.”
“Fine, Damian.” Lenny got up and carried his plate to the kitchen, tossing it into the sink, where it landed with a shattering clatter and spray of uneaten food. “Enjoy your fucking supper.” He stalked off. The door to his room slammed and locked.
Damian managed to choke down a few more bites before the anger gagged him. He tried cleaning out the sink, but managed instead to slice his finger open on the edge of the broken plate.
“Shit.” He glanced to Lenny’s door, considered making a plea for help, but no. He was doing them all a goddamn favor. The least they could do was pretend to appreciate it. And he didn’t need any goddamn help, thank you very much.
“Could have left you all in the dust with fucking Granger, but I didn’t, did I? No. I made sure it’s all of us he signs. I fucking made your careers, bunch of ingrates.”
Bleeding finger in his mouth, he grabbed his jacket and keys and crashed out of the apartment.
5
THE GRINDING bass rhythm moved Damian’s body for him. The strong hands on his hips didn’t hurt, nor did the hard cock thrusting against his ass. He lifted his arms in the air and dropped his head back onto a broad shoulder. Another pair of hands slid up his stomach, pausing over his chest. Lips caressed his throat and he closed his eyes, moaning under the music.
“That’s right,” a voice whispered in his ear.
Fingers twisted his nipples and he jerked and shuddered.
“We could make you come right here.”
Another tweak, more grinding, and Damian groaned. The music changed, slowing slightly, though it was no less driving or primal. The guy in front of him moved in, rubbing along Damian so their bare chests connected and their cocks ground together. He found Damian’s mouth with his, and teased his tongue along Damian’s parted lips. Admitting him, Damian took back enough control to thrust against that hard cock, to find more friction, and to answer the stranger’s urging.
Something hard and round pressed to his tongue. His eyes flew open but the men sandwiched him a little tighter. “Just a little E,” the one behind him whispered. “Relax. We’ll take good care of you tonight.”
Not like he was going to turn down that offer. Both men were hot as hell. Both were hard for him, and there was little chance his acceptance of their offer was going to be met with a slamming door. He dropped his arms back to curl his fingers in the hair of the man behind him and swallowed the pill. There was no one around to tell him it was a bad idea.
THE APARTMENT Damian awoke in was a disaster zone. Empty pizza cartons, beer cans, and clothing were strewn about the place, and he picked his way through the debris with care. Thankfully, he made it to the bathroom without waking any of the half-dozen passed-out partiers also strewn about in varying stages of undress and tangled limbs.
He had to stop doing this shit.
Slipping into the bathroom, he let out a relieved sigh and closed and locked the door behind him. He didn’t have the heart to examine himself in the mirror yet, so he took a piss first, then tried to rinse his face with cold water. Used needles and rubber tubing lay in the bottom of the sink and made his blood chill. He glanced at his arms, at the needle pricks, and felt his gut turn over. He had a vague memory of insisting on a fresh needle. It was anyone’s guess if he’d actually gotten one.
“Lenny’s going to kill me.”
“Who’s Lenny?”
Damian jumped, grabbed the sink for support when his wobbly legs didn’t want to hold him up, and felt an arm snake around his middle.
“Easy.”
It was the same heavy, grating voice from the bar and Damian glanced into the mirror. The guy was probably a bit older than him, built and hairy. He’d come into the bathroom through another door, presumably leading to a bedroom. Damian hadn’t noticed the door through his hangover.
“Lemme go. I’m fine.”
“Mm. You are that.” He rubbed his morning wood against Damian’s ass. “Especially when you have an audience.” He ran a hand up Damian’s stomach, over his chest, and curled his fingers lightly around his throat. “Damn fine when you got someone cheering you on. Maybe I ought to go fetch those girls again, hmmm?”
“No,” Damian whispered, caught somewhere between gut-churning disgust and ragingly hard.
“Just you and me?” That cock slipped between his cheeks and Damian shivered.
He wasn’t as drunk as he had been, but he remembered enough of this guy’s prowess to feel the need stirring in his gut again. He was insane. But he nodded as the guy prodded at his hole with his cock. What was one more fuck for the road to get rid of his early morning erection and round out a weekend of stupidity?
“Bend over.” Hands strong and sure, he pushed between Damian’s shoulder blades, bending Damian until Damian could rest his hands on the edge of the tub. “Eager little fucker, aren’t you?”
Damian bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and d
idn’t answer. But he didn’t get up either.
The coupling was hard, fast, and dirty, and for the life of him, Damian could not figure out why it mattered. It got him off, sure. He left the bathroom feeling slightly nauseated as he heard the condom splat into the trash can behind him. The sick gut was because he was sobering up, he decided, and gathered his clothes as quietly as he could. If he didn’t wake anyone else up, maybe they wouldn’t remember he’d even been here. Wherever here was. As he stepped a foot into a resisting boot, a phone rang. He glanced around, found it on the floor near one of the girls, and saw his face, very obviously piss-drunk, light up the screen as it rang a second time.
Especially when you have an audience.
Wouldn’t have been the first time someone watched him get his ass plowed. The phone jingled a third time, his drunken face once more lighting up the screen. Whoever the phone belonged to had taken pictures of him at the bar. What other pictures had they taken? He brought his heel down on the phone, felt a satisfying crunch under his boot and a momentary pang of guilt in his gut.
“Dude, that’s harsh.”
His companion from earlier was leaning on the kitchen doorframe watching him.
“I don’t need that shit on the Internet,” Damian growled. “Anyone else take pictures?”
“You think I want my face out there either?” He shook his head. “I got my reputation to think of. I made them leave their phones in the safe. I’m not stupid. Guess she got that one past.”
Damian studied the older man’s face. He wondered if he should recognize him. There was something vaguely familiar about full lips and prominent jawline. Probably, he was one of those reality show stars still riding the diminishing wave of his fifteen minutes.
“Right,” Damian said at last, digging his wallet out of his pocket. “Give her this. She can get a new phone.” He handed over a couple of bills.