Baz tipped his mouth in a crooked smile that could mean about anything. It faded, though, when Marius put a hand on Baz’s arm to pull him aside, the cocky expression replaced by thin-lipped earnestness.
Damien spoke into Elijah’s ear. “A word of warning. Talk to Marius the way you did to me, and it’ll be Baz who snarls.”
A tendril of shame curled through Elijah. “Sorry.”
“You’re not.” Damien didn’t seem upset, though. “Don’t get stars in your eyes over him. He doesn’t mean to, but he’ll break your heart. Marius and I have the scars to prove it, and we’re only his friends. If you’re fool enough to think you’re the exception, you’re already screwed.”
Elijah shrugged, turning away so Damien didn’t see the flush on his cheeks. “You can stand down. I’m not looking for a savior.”
“He is.”
Those words echoed in Elijah as Baz finally extricated himself from Marius and took Elijah to the dance floor. That he was hoping for a savior in Elijah made his skin crawl—but then he remembered the confession from the Tesla.
I worry about you. Not something you said to someone you hoped would save you. That was the other way around.
Elijah frowned at Baz, who was enigmatic once more behind his glasses. “You don’t make any fucking sense.”
Baz’s only response was to quirk an eyebrow and draw Elijah closer. An extended remix of “Get Lucky” played, and Baz was trying to lead them in a dirty dance, but it hadn’t escaped Elijah’s notice Baz barely moved at all, doing his best to keep his weight off his left hip. Elijah had assumed the handful of pills Baz popped in the car was Baz joining the party. Obviously those drugs truly had been medicinal.
He flicked the center of Baz’s chest. “What the fuck are you dancing for, if you hurt?”
“Honey, if I only danced when I didn’t hurt, I never would.” He drew Elijah closer, bringing his stomach into contact with Baz’s groin. “Besides, moving around usually helps.”
Sounded like a crock of shit to Elijah, but he was tired of keeping track of Baz’s BS. “So you’re telling me you hurt all the time? That sucks.”
“Beats being dead.”
The quip had an edge to it. “What the fuck happened to you in high school, anyway?” Too late, Elijah remembered the Xanax lack of filter. He held up his hands. “Forget it. Ignore me. Or lie. Tell me you fell out of a jet or something.”
Baz pushed hair out of Elijah’s eyes. “I was bashed outside of a Boystown bar on my sixteenth birthday. I lived. My boyfriend didn’t.”
Elijah stumbled. He shook as he recovered his balance, staring intently at Baz.
What did Baz find that night you first met in Saint Paul? You, trapped in an alley with a bad trick. Must have been one fuck of a flashback. That’s why you freak him out. You’re a goddamned ghost. You probably even look the same as the old boyfriend.
Elijah told himself it was fucking stupid for the knowledge to hurt. What, he thought one fucking blow job through a moonroof meant fairy godmothers were real?
Baz’s eyebrow arched over the glasses. “No pity, and all Xanaxed up too. I’m impressed.”
“I’ve been to reparative therapy. Some of us get our hell in one whap upside the head, some of us spend ten months on our knees.”
You are an asshole, Elijah’s rusty conscience screamed at him, but Baz only smiled. “I like you, Elijah Prince.”
Elijah tried to throw his walls back up, but he was far too drugged. “Fuck.”
Pretty sure that was a wink behind those glasses. “Give me another fifteen minutes to let the oxycodone fully kick in, and you’re on.”
“Yes, so we can live out Sid and Nancy: This Time They’re Gay.”
Elijah watched to see if he’d get the reference. It was an admittedly obscure test—how many millennials knew about a codependent, tragic 1970s punk romance glamorized in a mid-eighties movie? But Elijah wanted him to pass. Come on. Show you’re a freak like me.
Baz neither confirmed nor denied. With a sideways grin, he drew Elijah in close. “Don’t try to brush me off. I know how to push your buttons now. I can make you putty in my hands with barely any effort at all.”
He skimmed a touch up Elijah’s side and a deft tuck into his crack. Elijah would have had a tough time resisting that sober, but as it was, he all but sat on Baz’s index finger in front of a bunch of Minnesota Nice. He groaned when Baz pulled away, but Elijah swatted at him—and missed—when he laughed.
“You’d better be good, is all I can say, you neurotic mess.” Elijah rested his cheek against Baz’s chest and shut his eyes when Baz enveloped him in a swaying embrace. “And if you say it takes one to know one, I’ll bite you.”
“Promises, promises.”
Everyone around them boogied to Daft Punk, but the two of them downshifted into a slow dance. It was nice, until he saw Baz limp. He pressed his fingers to Baz’s ribs, trying to guess which ones were titanium through his skin, which of course he couldn’t.
Baz kissed his hair and slid a hand over Elijah’s ass. “Oxy’s full power. Still up for a tour of the backseat?”
Oh yeah. Elijah was up all right. Nuzzling Baz’s shirtfront, he opened a button with his teeth and teased at the hairless chest above the vee of his undershirt. “Bring it on, Sid.”
Baz laughed and slipped a hand into Elijah’s waistband. “Oh no, you don’t. I call dibs on Nancy. I’m the one with the drugs, after all.”
On the way to the parking lot, Elijah tried to light up a cigarette, but Baz pulled the pack out of his hand and replaced it with a hard box of some other brand before Elijah could protest.
“Bought them at the bar. They’re menthol. Have to be better than whatever the fuck you’re gagging on there.”
Elijah tapped the cigarettes, peeled off the wrapper and took a whiff. Yummy and expensive, like the scotch. “I’d make a joke about your need to queen out over what I put in my body, but you have such good taste, you make it difficult to argue.”
“Money’s got to be worth something.”
Elijah lit up, enjoying the rush of quality nicotine. “How loaded are you, anyway?”
“Pretty. My parents both work, though not traditionally. Largely what they do is make money breed. My mom is angling for public office, so she’s running a lot of charity things as well. Community organizer and all. I think she’d have bitten on the calls for her to run for the House if it weren’t for my accident. I told her to use it, make me her goddamn platform, but she says not until I get myself together.” He made gimme motions for Elijah’s cigarette and took a hit before passing it back. “Dad owns half of Chicago. He’s one of those buy, rip apart, sell people everybody loves to bitch about. Pays for three houses and a skyline downtown apartment, plus all my fucking around, so no complaining from me. And it’ll finance Mom’s candidacy if she ever gets off her ass.”
“They’re still together?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think they’ve fucked each other in years, and I rarely see him unless it’s for something official where we need to look like a functional family. But if they have pieces on the side, they’re quiet about it. They’re more about the whole than the part. Plus it wouldn’t be good for Uncle Paul, since they’re neck-deep in his campaign.”
“Uncle Paul is who, exactly?”
“Senior US Senator representing the great state of Illinois.”
Elijah’s stomach flipped over. Holy. Shit. “Your uncle is Senator Barnett?”
“Yep. His dad was a senator also, and his brothers are all in politics in some fashion or other. We’re kind of the Illinois Kennedys on my mom’s side. Hated about that much too. Paul’s been after Mom to take up the family business for years. She should. Dad would totally dig being a political spouse.”
“Is it easier dealing with a shit life with money? Because I could see it going either way.�
�
When Baz held his hand out, this time Elijah passed the whole pack and the lighter, and Baz paused to light up before he answered. “Sometimes. Easier to be distracted. Easier to feel guilty.”
“Why guilty? What the fuck did you do?”
Baz shrugged. “Lived. Moved on to other guys. General survivor shit.”
Elijah took a drag while he considered. “Makes sense. What a clusterfuck if I’d fallen for somebody along the way. Of course, they’d have had to push past my barbed wire, which nobody’s suicidal enough to do.” He rolled his eyes and ashed his cig. “Except Aaron, the shithead.”
Baz passed over the flask. “Aaron’s a good kid. He and Giles are right together.”
Yes, and sometimes Elijah hated that. He withdrew his now-Oban-filled flask. “I fucked Giles, you know.”
Baz chuckled and blew a stream of smoke. “I fucked Aaron.”
Elijah remembered—mostly how upset Aaron had been when it ended. “Is he as sweet and innocent as he looks?”
“Yep.”
“Bet he purrs like a kitten.”
“Affirmative.” He stubbed out his cigarette into the gravel with half of it remaining. “I assume Giles takes a second to get over himself, then fucks with abandon?”
“He’s got ninja skills. Total top, though. No switching except maybe for novelty. Surprised the hell out of me.”
“Hmm. Too bad I passed him up.”
Elijah hit him with the flask, laughing. “Shut up. Really? You want to rearrange?”
“We’ll save it for next time.” They were at the car now, and Baz pressed Elijah into it. “Somebody got me in a mood.” Baz sucked lightly at Elijah’s neck, inspiring him to tip his head to the side. “We’re climbing into the backseat, I’m firing up some Maino, and you’re sucking my cock until I decide to put it in you.”
That’s what they did. Baz leaned over the console from the backseat and fussed for a second, and once the sultry beat of R&B pulsed from the stereo, Baz settled against the door, spread his legs wide and arched an eyebrow over the top of his sunglasses.
Elijah didn’t need a second invitation.
He tugged at Baz’s fly, palming him through the expensive fabric to get to the goods. He admired the pretty, cut length of Baz curving to the right—then stuck his ass in the air, nestled into Baz’s crotch and sucked him fast and deep into his mouth.
He pulled off quick, mostly wanting to get Baz’s attention and make it clear he meant business. Sucking cock was Elijah’s greatest skill. He’d worked on Grindr to get a rep as a hot, talented mouth, which meant if he priced fucking higher, he could mostly stick to blow jobs for cash because they were still great and seemed like a bargain. When he actually wanted a guy, his talents got him gratitude and affection.
For Baz he got out the big guns—lots of attention to his balls, sucking them gently, running his tongue around the tender sacs, massaging them as his mouth returned to the shaft. The music wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it worked—apparently Maino was a fan of blow jobs, because the beat let Elijah climb on top, bob and weave and lick in time to the rhythm. The car was silent, shutting out the world, keeping them in a sleek, futuristic red bubble. Elijah glanced up, lips spread, figuring by this point Baz’s eyes ought to be rolled back in his head.
He shuddered, a moan escaping when he found Baz staring intently at him—as far as he could tell with the shades—completely contained, a small smile on his face. His hand moved down Elijah’s back, slipping beneath his waistband, moving insistently south as he pressed Elijah deeper onto his cock with his free hand.
“I should have said…” his fingers tightened on Elijah’s hair, “…I like a little desperate on my dick. Let me at your ass.”
Elijah fumbled with his own fly, getting his waistband slack in time for Baz to push his dress pants down, his briefs. Baz’s fingers teased the sweat of Elijah’s crack, but only for a moment. When those same fingers brushed Elijah’s jaw, he turned, whimpering, to take them in his mouth.
When they left, he latched on to Baz’s cock, took him deep and moaned as Baz pressed at the pucker of his ass.
One stroke was all the warning he got—Elijah sucked in a lungful of sex-tinged air into his nose, opening his throat and helping Baz fuck his face. He tripped out of his head, lost to the metric of cock, air, cock, distracted by the thrust of two of Baz’s fingers. It was dirtier than he expected. It was wicked. It was almost more than he could handle. He loved it so hard he wondered if the tears leaking out of his eyes weren’t entirely the strain of so much dick.
He gave Baz desperate—he whined, gasped, let Baz muffle the sounds with his cock. Spread his knees as wide as the seat allowed to give Baz plenty of access to his ass. The fingering made him crazy. The face-fucking, the drugs—been there done that. But his bare butt aimed at the window in a silent car getting frigged while he was held down, his mouth used as a hole, while he was tripping on quality chemicals—fuck, fuck, fuck, he was going to blow if his cock so much as brushed anything.
Though initially Baz was cool as hell, the whines made him feral. Elijah called up every whorish cell in his body, turned loose and let guttural pleasure burn in his throat.
Just when he thought he was about to be rewarded with a flood of spunk, Baz whipped him off and around, so they were back to front. Shaking, aching, Elijah tried to sit on Baz’s dick, only to be pushed forward again.
“Gotta suit up.”
Oh. Right. Jesus. Before he could dwell on the thought, though, Baz hauled him onto his now-condom-coated cock.
Elijah arched and moaned as that curved dick speared him, rubbing him all the right ways.
Baz sucked on his neck as he thrust into Elijah, pinching his nipple, teasing open the front of his half-unbuttoned shirt. “That’s right, baby. Give it to me. Open up and take it.”
Elijah did. The blow job had been incredible, but his life goal became getting this dick inside him as much as possible. He kept trying to grab himself to jack off, but he was so overstimulated he couldn’t make his hands work well enough to get there. When Baz took hold of Elijah’s cock for him, he tipped his head back and whimpered.
Baz nuzzled Elijah’s chin until he turned. He sealed their mouths together, jerking Elijah until the combined sensation of dick pounding his ass and hand on his cock sent him sailing over the edge into his own personal fireworks. As he twinkled to earth, the last thrust told him Baz had found his own light show.
They kept kissing after the climax—slow, lingering, neither of them wanting the moment to end. Elijah knew he didn’t. Maybe it had simply been too long, but that sure as hell felt like the best fuck he’d ever had. Good banter before too. Dance was pretty decent, even with the hip. The car and expensive booze and cigs were merely frosting, but Elijah did enjoy sugar.
He’s going to hurt you. He’s a train wreck. You’re not a whole lot better. Put this shit down and walk away.
He tangled his fingers in Baz’s hair. “You fuck good, Nancy.”
Baz nipped and tugged Elijah’s ear with his teeth.
Elijah shut his eyes against the tenderness. The walls he usually kept himself safe behind broke free of the Xanax barriers and scraped into place, moving him from unable to leave him to unable to linger.
“I should go. My roommates Moopsie and Cutesy are likely looking for me. You have good odds on a lecture coming from Damien and Marius too.”
For a moment he thought Baz would try to get him to stay, and he held his breath, half dreading, half hoping for it. But Baz only kissed his neck and ran a hand across his arm before letting it fall away. “You’re probably right.”
He was absolutely right. But as Elijah sorted out his pants and climbed out of the Tesla, he wished with every fiber of his being he wasn’t.
For Baz, the reception went by in a fuzzy, Elijah-filled blur.
B
efore they rejoined the others, they dabbed out come stains on their clothes in the car, laughed at the futility, then lit up cigarettes and sauntered to the marina. Once there they went their separate ways, but Baz kept his gaze on Elijah.
He should be relieved. This was the part that made him crazy, the moment when a guy wanted more and Baz knew he couldn’t do it. It was refreshing to have somebody on board with him for a change. Elijah was right, they were Sid and Nancy all the way. Terrible idea. Sure, they could fuck occasionally. They’d had a fun night together, bled off some raw from a rough day. End scene.
Except Baz couldn’t stop thinking about him. It wasn’t simply the sex, either. And of course he wanted to explore finding out if Elijah was as enthusiastic a top as he was a bottom. But it was more that he wanted…well, more. More banter. More side eye. More of Elijah regarding him warily, like he didn’t trust Baz at all. Getting all intense and up in Baz’s face.
Looking hungry. Aching. Wearing the expression on his face matching the feelings Baz concealed inside.
Baz tried to push Elijah out of his head, or at least into the quiet obsession he’d been previously, but he wouldn’t go. That made sense when they were still at the reception. It made no sense when he was at the hotel with Marius.
Okay, a lot of it was Baz couldn’t stop wondering if Elijah had gotten out of the reception in one piece—Baz hadn’t seen him leave. Giles and Aaron were watching him, right?
He could check. Aaron was rooming with Elijah.
Marius watched Baz pull out his phone as they entered the elevator. “Everything okay?”
“Just checking on something.” He tapped open Aaron’s contact information.
“If the something is Elijah, he left with Aaron and Giles twenty minutes ago.”
Baz paused, registering the censure in Marius’s tone, but he still tapped out the text. Hey, Aaron. Elijah make it to your room okay?
He let out a breath when the reply appeared on his screen. Yes. He’s already asleep.
K thx. Baz clicked his phone into sleep mode and tucked it into his pocket. He ignored Marius giving him a look and continued toward their room with all the confidence in the world that Marius, the world’s biggest mother hen, would launch into Baz in his own time.
Lonely Hearts Page 4