Off Stage

by Jaime Samms

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Vance touched his face, cupping his cheek, and the beginnings of that rage that had built inside Len as Vance spoke dissipated. “I’m hopin’ I’ll know it when I hear it, darlin’. I am truly hopin’ I’ll know it when I hear it.”

  Len remained inhumanly still and silent, waiting for the ripping sound of his guts coming apart, knowing he was effectively a prisoner until he told Vance all the ugliness that had been his years with Ace. There was no sound, either in the tiny room or inside his heart. There was waiting, and a pause, and inside that moment dwelled the potential for things not to go wrong.

  Slowly, Len moved, just his head, in a nod that brought his cheek in firmer contact with Vance’s palm. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. “You’ll know it when you hear it.”

  He turned his head and kissed Vance’s skin. It smelled like soap and leather, and he closed his eyes.

  That was why he didn’t realize Vance had moved until he felt the other man’s hot breath on his cheek. Instinct turned his head and their lips met. Len breathed one small, desperate breath, and Vance’s mouth closed tenderly over his. Vance’s tongue slid between his lips, and Len swayed into the bigger man’s body, accepting the kiss and the heat and the demand of that tongue to give in.

  There was no question of resisting. He gave and he opened and he moaned softly as he kissed back, and Vance’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him to the kiss until his head swam with the power of it.

  And it was still the tenderest kiss Len could imagine. When they parted and Vance looked down into his eyes, he didn’t see the split lip or the bruises. He saw the love, and he nodded again. “I’ll do better,” he promised, not wanting to jeopardize the fragility in that amber gaze. “I swear I will do this better.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Vance agreed. “Now come sit down and eat.”

  Len followed him out, not complaining when Vance took his hand, fingers laced, and led him to the table. He sat in the chair Vance pulled out for him and accepted the bowl of stew presented. If he blushed, it didn’t matter.

  Only pleasing Vance mattered. Only that look of love mattered. Keeping it mattered.

  6

  THE NEARLY five-hour ride across country took the men less than an hour to make along the night roads in their borrowed truck. Even so, Len fell into a doze barely ten minutes out, and as much as Vance cherished the innate trust of Len’s head on his shoulder, he had to twice adjust his slumping form to lean on Kilmer so Vance had room to drive.

  “He’s going to be sore tomorrow,” Kilmer observed, finally draping an arm over the sleeping man’s shoulders and holding him away from Vance.

  “Serves him right.”

  Kilmer grinned and agreed.

  “You know, he’s a fast learner. He likes the horses.”

  “Good to know. Because I sort of saddled you with him for the foreseeable future. He needs something to do, and I figured learning the ropes around the barn might be a place to start.”

  “Seems fitting.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Kilmer shook his head as he watched the darkened countryside fly by the window. “Nope. Do you both some good.”

  “God, Kil, I hope so.”

  The truck hummed along the highway for a few minutes before Kilmer spoke again. “I thought he’s a musician.”

  “He is.”

  “But he needs something to do. That mean he ain’t makin’ music?”

  “Not that I’ve heard since he got here.”

  “And that doesn’t worry you?”

  Vance pinched his lips but a thin sigh escaped anyway. Kilmer probably knew him well enough to know what that meant, but he said it anyway. “More than I can say.”

  Silence settled, broken occasionally by Len’s soft, popping snores.

  “You’re not going to tell me what the two of you talked about, I guess?” Vance asked finally.

  “You know I can’t. If he thinks he’s talkin’ to me in confidence, then maybe he’ll actually talk. All I can do is listen and encourage him to talk to you.”

  “Yeah.” Vance had figured that would be the answer he’d get, and he appreciated his friend for keeping Len’s privacy, even if it was the most frustrating thing he’d ever experienced.

  “You want my advice?” Kilmer asked.

  “You givin’ me a choice?”

  That brought another of Kilmer’s sunny grins to the fore. “Nope.”

  “Well, then, advise away.”

  “Try and remember what it’s like to break a new colt to the halter. You know how you get, so patient and teasing and affectionate. They love that. They respond to it.”

  Vance glanced at Len’s peaceful features. “Break him to harness, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Kilmer chuckled. “That is exactly what I meant.”

  More silence, accompanied now by the rattle of stones under the truck as Vance pulled off the highway.

  “I know it’s tough for you to put yourself out there, Vance. After us. And Stan.”

  “Is this where we start talkin’ about our feelings?” Vance asked, voice lowering to a rough sandpapery warning. He was lashing out, he knew. His feelings, where Len was concerned, were so unstable he didn’t think it was a good idea to examine them too closely, let alone talk about them.

  “My friend, I know how I feel. I like the kid. I can’t even begin to imagine all the ways he might be broken, but I like him. It’s time you started helpin’ him realize he’s likeable, don’t you think?”

  “Meanin’?”

  “I know how you need to run everyone’s life. Believe me, I know. But for once in your miserable existence, try somethin’ new and just do what feels right. Lovin’ him might not be about rulin’ him right now. It might just be about lovin’ him.”

  Vance glanced over at Kilmer, puzzled.

  Kilmer snorted. “Leave it to you not to understand somethin’ that simple.”

  “He is so out of control, Kil. You have no idea.”

  “Hello. Five-hour horse ride this afternoon. Fistfight in your office and… whatever that was in the yard. Vance, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think maybe he isn’t the only one losin’ his shit.”

  “Is there a right way to take that?” Vance asked, holding back anger as his knuckles cracked with the ferocity of his grip on the wheel.

  “Uh, yeah. The honest way. Where you realize you’re too close to be objective. You’re so worried about keepin’ him safe, you’ve forgotten what he needs right now aren’t more rules an’ punishments and ways to keep him separate from anythin’ that might trigger him. What he needs is patience an’ love an’ you bein’ close and ready to hold the hell on to him when he comes flyin’ apart.” Kilmer huffed out a breath. “Yeah. I guess this is the part where we talk about our feelin’s.”

  “Or, where we talk about my feelin’s.”

  “Tomato, Tomato.” Kilmer waved a hand.

  “You don’t think him clockin’ me was things flyin’ apart?”

  Kilmer smiled grimly. “I think that was him keepin’ you right at arm’s length, where you seem to want him.”

  “That is not true.”

  Kilmer held up both hands and cocked his head. “Just what I see, Van. Just what I see.”

  “I don’t know what to do!” Vance slammed a fist against the wheel, and between them, Len jumped and whimpered, glancing groggily around.

  “Wha—”

  “Nothin’ darlin’,” Vance said, patting his leg. “Nothin’.”

  “We almost home?” Len sat up, and Kilmer hastily moved his arm as he stretched some of the lethargy out of his limbs.

  “Yep.” In fact, Vance was signaling to pull off the road and down the long drive to the yard as Len asked.

  “Good.” Len yawned and seemed to gravitate slightly toward Vance. “I’m tired.”

  As Vance pulled the truck to a stop beside Kilmer’s car, the ranch manager looked past Len and s
peared him with a glare. “You know what to do. You’re just scared to get back on the horse.”

  Vance said nothing.

  “What?” Len asked, glancing from one to the other.

  “Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about, Len. Get some sleep. I’ll see you, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at mornin’ feedin’, yeah?”

  “Um, yeah.” Len yawned. “I guess.”

  “Five thirty.” He gave Len’s thigh a couple of good, hearty slaps. “You bring the coffee.”

  “Five…?” Len hopped out after him. “Wait, what? Five thirty?”

  Kilmer laughed as he opened his car door.

  “That’s inhuman!” Len called as Kilmer got in.

  “You’ll get used to it,” the rancher assured him. “Eventually.” The engine rumbled to life and he was gone.

  Len wandered toward the house as Vance parked the truck, and they met on the porch.

  “Was he serious?” Len asked. “Five thirty? Really?”

  “Now you sound like a whiny kid,” Vance muttered.

  Len shrank back. “I’ll be there,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You said.”

  Vance got the door unlocked and they went inside. They didn’t turn on any lights, since the living room lamp and the light on the landing shed enough illumination for them to find their way through the house to the stairs.

  “I hope you think of this as more than just what I said.” Vance hung his hat on its hook, and Len placed his next to it.

  “Sure. It’s about learning to care for the horses.”

  “Sure,” Vance agreed.

  Len hurried up the stairs after him, almost running to keep up with his long strides and double-stair climb.

  “Vance! If it’s about something else, then tell me!”

  “You have to figure it out!” Vance nearly shouted, turning at the top of the stairs. “You have to figure your shit out, Len. I can’t do it for you.”

  Len stopped, heels hanging over the edge of the top stair. “I know.” His voice was very small. “I’m trying.” He shifted and wavered, as though he wanted to step back, but there was nowhere for him to go but down, and Vance suddenly realized how very much Len probably didn’t want to make himself any smaller or more vulnerable to him when he was towering over him already and shouting.

  Vance snaked an arm out and caught Len around the waist, pulled him away from the top of the stairs, and swung him around so his back was safely to the wall next to the bedroom door. He took a deliberate step away and held both arms out wide and away from Len.

  Len was pale, startled by the sudden shift, and he leaned heavily on the wall. “I didn’t think you were going to hurt me,” he said. But his voice still had that small, uncertain timbre.

  “Not on purpose,” Vance agreed. But how easy would it have been? One small misstep. One misjudgment of where that landing was, or the next step down, and Vance might not have been quick enough to catch him.

  Just like on the horse. One throw, one bad fall, was all it took, and it would have happened because Vance couldn’t figure out this thing between them. Because Vance didn’t know what was the right thing to do.

  It was Len who moved first, laying his palms on Vance’s face, much like Vance had done in the bathroom at the ranch. He touched, he cupped, he held, and Vance closed his eyes.

  “Try and remember that I’m twenty-seven years old,” Len said softly. That voice was not small anymore, just soft. “That I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m a famous fucking rock star with a bad rep. I can handle myself. I can handle you.”

  Vance chuckled, but didn’t open his eyes or move away from that sweet, encompassing hold. “You think?”

  “I know.” Len’s breath ghosted across his lips, and Vance leaned down, searching, trusting that Len would make the kiss happen. Like the touch, the kiss was sweet and inviting. There was no lust in it. Just care, tenderness, and that reaching hope Len was so good at.

  Vance wrapped both arms around Len’s narrow waist and pulled him up, crushing him to his chest until Len’s feet were off the ground and he was laughing into their kiss and scrabbling to get his legs wrapped around Vance’s waist as he folded both arms around his neck.

  Overbalanced, Vance flung out a hand and caught them both against the wall, easing Len back until he was pinned off the floor between the wall and Vance.

  “I could fall into you,” Vance whispered.

  Len smiled against his mouth. “Why is that such a horrible thing?”

  How would I get out? Vance held Len tighter and kissed him harder.

  The kiss went on a very long time. “Do what feels good,” Vance muttered as they broke apart to breathe.

  “I am.” Len laughed as he spoke, and there was joy in the sound.

  “It’s what Kilmer said.”

  Len managed a small shrug. “He seems like a smart guy.”

  Careful not to drop his armload, Vance leaned away enough to look into Len’s eyes. “What if what feels good to me scares you?”

  “Then I’ll tell you to stop.” Once again, Len was cupping his face, looking into his eyes, and this time, Vance couldn’t close his to escape. “I’ll tell you,” Len promised.

  “I want you so bad.” Vance gripped him again.

  “I’m yours for the taking.” Len nuzzled his neck, licking and kissing and puffing Vance’s longish hair out of his mouth as he explored.

  It was an invitation too good to be true. He knew Len meant it at face value. Whatever Vance wanted, Len would give. There was much potential for pain in that, and Vance feared Len would take the pain to please him.

  And Len wasn’t the only one who could get hurt. Vance buried his face in the warm crook of Len’s shoulder. He smelled of sweat and sunshine. He was allover languid affection and relaxed need. He wanted. And yet, he was content to be held and nuzzled. Vance felt it under the lazy exploration, though, that slow burn that could ignite into God knew what.

  “Take me to bed,” Len whispered.

  It was bolder than he’d been since the first time Vance had shown interest in him in Boston. Even then, he hadn’t been forward, just open to anything Vance offered or asked.

  Once more, Vance pried himself from the warmth to look him in the eye. “Not to sleep, I take it.”

  Len grinned at him. “Wasn’t what I had in mind, no.” But the grin faded to a soft, accepting smile as his fingers played in the hair at the back of Vance’s neck. “I am open to alternatives.”

  “You want to get laid?” Vance asked. For the life of him, he couldn’t keep that caveman out of his voice.

  In his arms, Len shivered and nodded. “Hell, yeah.” But he shrugged in the next breath and offered the one thing Vance hadn’t expected. “As you see fit, of course.”

  “Len.”

  Len lifted both brows. “Vance.”

  “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

  Len nodded. “I know you do. We’re both scared of it.”

  So matter-of-fact. So true.

  “Lay me out on our bed,” Len said. “There are a million other things we can do.” He locked gazes with Vance, and his cheeks colored. His gaze turned softer, less adamant, more hesitant, but he didn’t look away. “I want to know you want me.”

  “I do.”

  “Then have me.” He kissed Vance’s cheek. “Please.”

  “You ask so pretty.” Vance took his mouth in a kiss that bent his back and drew out a loud moan. The kiss lasted until Len’s hands on his neck were clutching and tight, and his legs clenched, and the sounds coming from him were desperate. He was too busy gasping for breath to say anything else, pretty or otherwise, as Vance strode with him into the room and tossed him onto the bed.

  Len flew and landed with a gasp and a bounce, then lay there, frozen, eyes huge.

  “I’m bigger’n you, boy,” Vance said, crawling over his sprawled form. “Get used to it.”

  A small nod was Len’s only response.

  “Oka
y?”

  Another miniscule nod.

  “Brain working?”

  Just as contained, his head wagged from side to side, and Vance laughed. “Good. Now lay down.” He put firm but gentle pressure on Len’s shoulder until the smaller man wiggled his elbows free and lay on his back, still staring up mutely.

  “You going to be able to stop me if it gets too much?” Vance asked, concern sneaking in, unwanted, around the edges of the thing they were about to do.

  Len nodded once more, a larger movement this time, and his throat worked. “Believe me.” He touched Vance’s bruised jaw with the tips of his fingers, running his thumb lightly over the dull ache. “You’ll know if I want to stop.”

  Oddly, Vance found that funny and chuckled. “I guess I would.”

  Vance gripped the questing hand and brought those fingertips to his lips. “Let’s make it clear, here and now. Violence in the bed is a deal breaker. Got that?”

  Len stared at him, once more mute and a little pale.

  “Now I know you don’t always mean to lash out. I know you can’t always help it. It takes ya over and you’ve gone and done it before ya thought.”

  Eyes intense and thoughtful, Len nodded.

  “So I can make allowances, but the day you or I raise a hand to the other, purposefully, in anger, all bets are off. We can’t pretend it hasn’t happened.”

  Len’s throat was working again. “Can’t pretend I haven’t done it, you mean,” he said at last.

  “I won’t pretend, Len. Now I know you’ve never hurt me like that, but I know it’s happened. I know you’re capable of it. We both know. And the only way to change it is to accept it’s true, for starters.”

  “I don’t feel like sex now,” Len muttered, squirming until he could roll onto his stomach.

  Vance didn’t dare give him the freedom to get up. Didn’t risk that Len might leave if he did. Instead, he ran both his hands up along Len’s spine, pushing his shirt up as he did, and spread them over his back. He was tiny under Vance. His hands covered a good portion of Len’s skinny frame, and it was a bit of a shock to note how many bones showed through. The contours of that small body were too sharp, too angular. Vance’s gut tightened at the thought this had happened under his watch.