by EM Lynley
Race relaxed a little as Derrick gently rubbed the soothing gel into the wounds on his back. His touch was so light and delicate for someone with huge paws for hands. Derrick was obviously doing his best to make Race feel better, and it was working.
“Race, have you considered just trying to find someone for a relationship, rather than these unfortunate encounters?”
“Well, yeah, of course I have. But for now, I’m on the set with you nearly every waking hour. I hardly seem to get any time off except to sleep, so it’s been a bit difficult to find my soul mate. As you can see, I’m not even all that successful at finding a fuck mate.”
“Okay, that’s fair, I suppose. You’ll just have to try harder on hiatus. For the soul mate, I mean.” Derrick managed to say this in a way that was friendly and supportive, not preachy. Coming from anyone else Race would have been annoyed at being told how to live his life.
“I’d have to be really lucky to find someone as perfect for me as you and Stella are together.”
“Yeah, lucky,” Derrick replied unenthusiastically, and Race craned his head to see his friend had a thoughtful, ironic expression.
“So… that reminds me, how about your night?” Race was glad to drop the subject of his love life. He decided it was okay to ask since Derrick hadn’t just left with Stella. Now it was fair game, especially since Race had ’fessed up about what he’d gotten up to with Eliza.
“Huh?” Derrick seemed surprised by the question— even by Race’s voice—and pulled his hand off Race’s back suddenly.
“You left with two girls, and you aren’t going to at least tell me something?” Race was disappointed and slightly annoyed that his friend wouldn’t share at least a tiny morsel with him.
“Well, it was, you know, what you’d expect,” Derrick said absently, obviously uncomfortable with Race’s curiosity.
Okay, strange answer, Race thought. He dropped it, concentrating instead on what Derrick’s hands were doing on his back. He’d finished putting gel on the welts on Race’s back, and he was working on a spot on Race’s left thigh.
Mmmm. Race stopped himself just in time from moaning out loud, but Derrick really did know how to make everything feel better. Derrick trailed his fingers up Race’s thigh from one mark to another and suddenly, it felt too damn good. Race could feel his cock hardening, and he knew he’d be supremely embarrassed if Derrick found out. Not just because of his hard-on, but how could he explain that he liked this so much he didn’t want Derrick to stop touching him? Shit, how am I going to get up? I wish I could pretend to fall asleep….
“There, that’s all of them.” Derrick stopped his gentle rubbing, but his huge hand was still on Race’s upper thigh. Unbidden, Race had a fleeting image of that enormous hand wrapped around his cock. “Feel any better, Race?”
“Yeah, a lot better, thanks,” Race said in a strangled voice and into the pillow, trying desperately to get the image of Derrick stroking his cock out of his head. The hard-on gave no sign of subsiding, much to Race’s mortification.
“Any more? You know, while I’ve got the stuff all over my hands,” Derrick offered.
“Uh, yeah,” Race said with some embarrassment, lifting his hips and awkwardly slipping his boxer-briefs down slightly to expose the two welts on his ass—one on each cheek.
“Race, you are lucky I’m such a good friend.” Derrick applied aloe vera to Race’s ass, clearly trying not to laugh and failing miserably. In fact, Race was glad Derrick laughed at him because, thankfully, it made him lose his hard-on.
“Yeah, I am.” Race pulled his shorts back up over his ass and rolled over onto his back. “Lucky.”
“Ow.” Derrick had clearly gotten a good look at Race’s chest. The nipples were red and raw, and there were teeth marks on Race’s chest and shoulders. Derrick reached out and dabbed some gel onto one nipple, and then the other, practically without thinking. Or so it seemed to Race, who just lay back and let Derrick continue with his ministrations. It was an indication of how close their friendship was that neither of them thought that there was anything strange about this. Race’s nipples were sensitive; he usually loved having them touched, but Eliza had practically chewed them off. Derrick’s touch was so tender as he smoothed the aloe vera onto Race’s nipples, circling around each one with just the right amount of pressure and hopefully not noticing that Race’s cock began to stir again.
Oh fuck! Race willed his body to obey and not betray him.
“Derrick?!” A shout and a sharp knock at the door captured their attention, and Derrick turned toward the noise. It was Kevin, one of the producers, and Race welcomed the intrusion that finally broke the spell Derrick’s fingers had on him and his cock.
Derrick got up and went over to the door, while Race grabbed for his shirt. He didn’t want Kevin to see him practically naked on Derrick’s bed even if there was a good reason. Certainly, the hard-on would be a little difficult to explain. Opening the door a crack, Derrick spoke quietly to Kevin, and Race could just make out the conversation.
“Rick, Caitlin didn’t report to the set this morning and you seem to be the last one to, uh, see her….” Kevin spoke with barely suppressed curiosity and envy. “Sorry to have to ask you, but….”
“Yeah, I’m not really sure where she is. I didn’t see her after, uh,” Derrick replied. “Let me make a call and let you know if I can find out anything.”
“Okay, thanks. And we’ll be ready for you guys in about ten.” Kevin had clearly tried to keep the conversation private, speaking quietly. Derrick closed the door and turned back toward the bed where Race sat, now fully clothed.
Derrick grabbed his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and punched in a few numbers. Race got up to go, but Derrick motioned for him to stay as the call connected.
“Stel, are you with Caitlin?” Derrick sounded annoyed, and he paced around the confines of the trailer as he spoke. Race couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Derrick appeared even angrier than he had the night before over the lipstick incident. Race felt an overwhelming concern for his friend well up in his chest. Whatever Derrick was going through, Race wanted to help him, was ready to support him; just as Derrick had taken care of Race’s injuries. It didn’t matter that he’d been entirely to blame in that regard.
“Okay, well, they’re waiting for her on set. You know we had an agreement….” Derrick raised his voice again, and Race wondered what was going on. In the three years they’d known each other, he’d definitely never heard Derrick like this. “We’ll talk about that later, just make sure Caitlin—”
Stella must have hung up because Derrick didn’t say anything else. He just snapped the phone shut and slammed it down on the dining room table so hard that a piece flew off and landed with a clatter on the tiled kitchen floor. Race knew how serious the situation had become, because Derrick just didn’t do angry unless you said something about his family. As curious as he was about what was going on, Race got up to go—for real this time.
“Hey, Race. You’ll need some more of that stuff later on.” Derrick seemed to remember Race was still there, and his voice softened as he spoke.
“Yeah, I’ll have the car pass by a pharmacy on the way home.”
“Nah, you can’t reach most of those spots. I’ll come over later and put some on for you, okay?”
“You don’t need to. You’ve got Stella staying and—”
“Yeah, I need to sort that out first. I’ll swing by your place around eight o’clock, okay? I’ll definitely need a beer, or three, later on too.”
“Plenty of beer in the fridge.” Race wrinkled his brow and wondered what Derrick was going to sort out. Maybe he’d be ready to talk about it later on. For now, their break was just about over, and they were expected back on set in about five minutes. As much as Race wanted to help his friend deal with whatever had gotten him so riled up, there just wasn’t time to get into it, and Derrick didn’t seem ready to discuss it just yet.
“It’
s a date then,” Derrick agreed with a smile. “Let’s get back to work. I hope we don’t go late tonight.”
The afternoon’s shooting went well thanks, at least in part, to Derrick’s gel and Race getting somewhat of a break to rest and clear his head. They were back on schedule and finished for the day around six p.m., mainly because they’d run out of light.
Neither of them needed to shower off any extra makeup or blood, so they just got into the studio car and headed home.
“See you around eight, then?” Derrick asked when the car stopped outside Race’s apartment, and he hopped out.
“Yeah, later, dude.”
It was closer to eight-thirty when Derrick knocked at Race’s door. Race had showered and put on a loose shirt and some sweatpants and was lounging around on the couch, flicking through basketball games on the television, when Derrick arrived. And it wasn’t a moment too soon either, as the welts were starting to hurt again. Race really needed Derrick to put more gel on for him. It was the gel, he reminded himself, thinking of how Derrick’s hands had felt on his body.
“Hey,” Race said as he opened the door to Derrick.
Derrick came in and plopped himself on the couch without saying anything. They were close enough friends that Race didn’t find that rude, and he silently handed Derrick a cold bottle of beer. Race knew Derrick would start talking when he was ready. For the moment, Derrick stared blankly at the game on the television, and Race sat down next to him.
“Let me just finish this, and then I’ll put some gel on your wounds,” Derrick said after he’d taken a few sips from the bottle. “Are they starting to hurt yet?”
“Yeah, they are. I appreciate this, but you really didn’t need to come all the way over here just for that.”
“Yes, I did.” Derrick took a long swig and finished the rest of the bottle. He’d sucked the whole beer down in about four minutes, which had to be a record. Something was seriously bothering him; Race was certain of that. “Okay, let’s get you fixed up. Bedroom?”
“Sure.”
Derrick followed Race into the bedroom and looked around as Race took off his shirt and sweatpants. Race saw him staring at the broken lamp, though Derrick didn’t say anything about it.
“I gotta clean that up. Threw the alarm clock at it this morning.” Race laughed at himself as he lay face down on the bed.
“You really hate waking up, don’t you?” Derrick asked, not quite laughing. “I thought it was just another casualty of Eliza and the whip.”
“No, I was the only victim. As for the calls, of course I hate them, especially the morning after I’m forced to go to some stupid netw—”
“Yeah, I think I agree with you on that. Now.” He started to rub some of the gel onto Race’s back.
“That sounded ominous. What do you mean ‘now’?”
“You didn’t hear about it yet?”
“Hear what? Rick, what happened?” Race pushed himself up on his elbows and craned his neck to look at his friend.
“About Stella.” Derrick’s voice was flat and emotionless. He took his hand off of Race for moment.
“Stella? Is she okay?” Derrick’s tone scared him, and Race was really worried now. “You know, I’m sorry about the drinking and the lipstick thing. You didn’t get into a fight over that, did you?”
“It isn’t your fault. And I know she has a thing about lipstick.”
“A thing? You mean she asks you to wear lipstick?” Derrick’s comment was so odd, Race just had to ask.
“No.” Derrick laughed as if that were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but there was little humor in the sound. “She likes lipstick.” He returned to the task of applying gel, gently massaging it into Race’s raw, red flesh. The feeling of Derrick’s fingers seemed at odds with the tone of his voice as he continued—clearly upset with Stella—but none of that anger transmitted into the way he touched Race.
“I don’t get it.”
“Kissing girls. Women,” Derrick said. “Like Caitlin. They were making out in the bathroom last night and out on the dance floor. Stella wanted to bring her home with us last night. I had to go along with it, or she would have made a big scene at the party in front of the press and the network guys.”
“Dude, girls kissing each other, then taking both of them home from a Hollywood party is a good thing. I don’t get why you’re so upset.”
“It totally ruins the image we’ve created. Now everyone has a completely different impression about me and about my relationship with Stella than what I wanted.” Derrick had taken his hand off of Race’s back again. He was practically talking to himself, so Race just listened and tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Derrick and Stella’s image was of a perfect, totally-in-love, Hollywood dream relationship, but this wasn’t enough to shatter that. “She only had a few rules to follow, but the number one rule was not to go off with anyone else when she’s out with me, and certainly not at a network publicity event. She’s supposed to be my girlfriend, for fuck’s sake. I’m just waiting for photos to go public. Everyone will be able to figure out the truth now.”
“What truth?” Race waited for a reply, but Derrick stayed silent. “Derrick, are you saying the truth is that Stella is gay?” Race was even more confused.
“Yes. No. I’m trying to tell you that… I… am.” Derrick’s voice was small, and Race couldn’t tell if he sounded relieved or embarrassed at what he’d just said. Race wasn’t even entirely certain he’d heard Derrick properly.
Race rolled over onto his back and sat up in the bed. Derrick didn’t look at him. He just sat there staring at his hands, his fingers still slightly covered in the clear gel.
“Wow. That was big news.” Race paused for a moment. “Are you ashamed of that or something?”
“No,” Derrick said softly, and then “No!” more defiantly. “Why would you ask that?”
“I guess because you never said anything about that to me before, so you obviously didn’t want me to know. I thought we were best friends—”
“We were. We are.”
“—and we share everything, or pretty close to it. Why didn’t you tell me before? Or didn’t you trust me with this?” He let his tone betray the hurt he felt. How could Derrick keep such a big secret from him?
“Of course I trust you.” It was Derrick’s turn to look wounded. “That’s not why I didn’t say anything. I’m not exactly sure why. But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner, and I’m even more sorry if I upset you because I didn’t share this.”
“This is something pretty important, so yeah, I’m surprised and hurt that you’re only getting around to telling me now.”
“Does it matter?” Derrick’s eyes searched Race’s, full of fear and apprehension.
“Matter that you’re gay? No.” Race couldn’t read the expression on Derrick’s face, but it didn’t exactly exude relief. Had he wanted Race to make a big fuss about it? Race didn’t have any issue with anyone’s sexual orientation. It wasn’t any of his business. If Derrick wanted to keep it a secret, he still should have known he could trust Race not to tell anyone else. But somewhere, deep inside, he felt that hearing this about Derrick did matter, but he wasn’t exactly sure why.
“So, we’re just going to go on like this never happened?” Derrick’s tone was some combination of hopeful and miserable.
“Did you expect me to go running for the hills? To throw you out? To stop being your friend?” Race’s voice grew louder. He knew he also needed to convince himself not to be hurt that Derrick hadn’t trusted him. “Well, I won’t. You’re still my best friend. That hasn’t changed. All that’s changed is that you can finally be yourself, at least around me.”
“I’m glad I finally told you. I feel like I have to wear a mask all the time, even around you. I should have told you a long time ago, but once we got to be such good friends….” Derrick paused and looked at his hands again. “I was afraid it would scare you away from being as close,
and I didn’t want to lose that.” Derrick almost visibly relaxed now, clearly relieved to come clean at last.
“So, now I can understand why you were with Stella, for your public image.”
“Yeah, though I’m not sure if she hasn’t done more damage than good recently.” Derrick sighed morosely before he went on. “It seemed like a good idea at the time when we first came up with the arrangement. We met on a film we did together a few years back, and got to be pretty friendly. One day Stella told me we wouldn’t ever be more than friends because she didn’t date men. After she admitted that, I felt comfortable telling her about myself. We got along so well, and people thought we were dating, that we decided to just go with it, since it would help both of us out. It was such a huge sense of relief because she was in exactly the same situation I was. But now she doesn’t seem to be so concerned about keeping her own secret, and I can’t let it be known it was all a charade.”
They sat there quietly for a few moments. Derrick seemed talked out after he’d finally explained his situation to Race, and Race needed to absorb this new information.
“Is there anything else you’ve been hiding? Like a secret boyfriend you’ve got stashed away somewhere?” Race didn’t see how that would be possible, since he and Derrick spent almost every waking minute together, but he wanted to know. He needed to know everything now. The fact that there were these big secrets between them made it feel as if Derrick was slipping away from him, and that possibility terrified Race. It had suddenly become clear to Race how important his friendship to Derrick was—now that it might never be the same.
“No,” Derrick laughed and smiled shyly. The answer pleased Race more than he could fathom. He didn’t like the idea that someone shared more with Derrick than he could. He didn’t want anyone to come between the two of them. Since they’d met, Race had felt a connection, a bond with Derrick he’d never tried to define. They simply clicked, as if they’d always known each other. They had so many things in common, but enough differences that made spending time with each other such great fun. If anything, Race had thought the bond had grown stronger over the two and half years they’d known each other and worked and played together.