“How ’bout I explain the kind of fun two people can get up to with a pair of handcuffs and a little leather?” Cody prowled forward on the bed, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with seductive intent. Lucas couldn’t stop his brain from being smacked down by an image of Cody’s long, lean body in a leather harness, a pair of cuffs dangling from one of his long fingers.
Save me. Lucas stepped back, rubbing up against the rough plastered wall, his wrists tingling, his dick swelling. He looked down at the floor, afraid something in his face might give away the frequency with which “twinks in leather” had appeared in his search engine, followed by the always popular “kinky twinks.” There was nothing twisted about his preference for guys—he knew that. Heck, his folks had come to terms with that even before he had. But there had to be something twisted about what he wanted to do with guys.
He could sit at his kitchen table or in the student forum and talk for hours about the complexities of gay politics and the intricacies of the gay marriage debate. But his obsession with kinky gay porn felt wrong. Dirty. Just the thought of his friends or his folks even saying the words hot leather twinks made his stomach churn. He pressed his shoulder blades hard into the wall, trying to find a little extra spine.
“You’re fun to tease.” Still grinning like a cat with a new toy, Cody perched on the edge of the bed. He was close enough that Lucas could smell his shampoo—the same citrusy scent he’d detected at lunch, only stronger and mixed with the tang of soap.
“So I’ve been told.” Struggling to keep his voice indifferent, he tried not to think about how easy it would be to touch Cody. Wouldn’t even have to fully extend his arm . . .
“Okay. Okay. So your dad wrote a book about how gays need to live like sheeple . . .” Cody trailed off, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. He smacked himself in the head. “Dude. Your dad is Dick No Wood? Gay LA did a spoof on him and how whacked his ideas are. He’s the abstinence-only-for-gays guy?”
“Don’t call him that.” The spoof column had made the rounds on dozens of blogs and social media shares. And the stupid nickname it had tacked on his dad seemed to be sticking. Lucas’s hands tightened around an invisible sword. When the criticism against his dad had been at its peak, Lucas had logged dozens of Xbox hours killing zombies and wishing the real world were as easy to control as a video game. “And he’s not against all sex. He supports gay marriage! He’s testified before the Iowa legislature to keep gay marriage legal in Iowa.”
“And the LGBT rights folks welcome him?” Cody looked skeptical, his mouth twisting to one side.
“Some of them,” Lucas muttered. “He’s trying to make peace between the religious right and the—”
“Wicked, wicked left.” Cody licked his lips again. “Good luck with that. And since Daddy wrote a book, you gotta stand up as the wait-till-marriage poster boy?”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Lucas lied, shoving aside the obligation that followed him around like a six-hundred-pound moose. The whole waiting-until-marriage thing made sense. The straight kids at his school and church signed purity pledges. It wasn’t terrible to have to do the same. “I choose to not live my life like that.”
“Sucks to be you.” Cody shrugged. He fiddled with the remote again.
How dare he! How dare Cody dismiss Lucas like his beliefs were nothing. Anger broke through his paralysis, and the same feet that had failed him all night moved swiftly toward the bed. He tapped Cody’s chest. Hard.
“No. No, it does not suck to be me. It sucks to be people trapped by bad choices. It sucks to have meaningless, soul-crushing sex.”
“You ever try it?” Cody was on his knees, getting right in Lucas’s face. What the hell? Most guys he knew would back the hell off if they got put on blast, but Cody kept coming, crowding into his space. “Why don’t you get laid a time or ten and tell me how crushed your soul is?”
“I don’t have to try gambling or drinking or . . .” He sputtered, unable to put words together with Cody so close. Light glinted from the tiny stone in Cody’s eyebrow ring—blue, the same shade as his eyes. He could see the flex of Cody’s Adam’s apple.
“Those are optional.” Cody’s breath brushed across Lucas’s face.
Lord have mercy. Heat rushed from Lucas’s cheeks to his dick.
“Fucking—” Cody drew the word out, a hot lick of dirty against Lucas’s jaw—“is a biological necessity. Like food. Air. Water. Screw shelter.”
“Chocolate cake.” It was all Lucas could get out around the lump in his throat.
“Huh?” Cody drew back slightly, taking away the terrifying, wonderful, crowded feeling.
“Chocolate cake.” With the sensations lessened, he could speak again. Maybe not make the most sense, but he could get a few words out. His heart still pounded. “You need food. Basic sustenance. No one needs chocolate cake to meet their basic needs. You don’t need casual sex.”
“Screw cake. Liking dick is a free pass to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Gay guys are just as capable of waiting for the right person as straight people.” Lucas tried to make himself believe his words, tried to make himself believe he wasn’t starving. Tried extrahard not to picture Cody dripping with chocolate . . .
“Why the hell play by the breeders’ rules? What possible benefit can you get?” Cody crowded closer again.
“I get to be openly gay at a school where no one was out ten years ago. Our school actually has a gay/straight alliance. A lot of progressive churches are changing their stance on gay marriage. That’s thanks to my dad.”
“Let me get this . . . straight.” Cody rolled his eyes. “You get to go to a school filled with conservative people where you hang out with other celibate gay guys while you brainstorm how best to copy the lives of mundanes who hate us? No offense, dude, but that’s seriously whack.”
“No offense, dude, but a lot of gay people are looking for a healthy alternative to an all-you-can-eat buffet.” His dad always went on about finding balance—emotionally, spiritually, physically. But at that moment, none of Lucas’s parts felt anywhere close to balance. “My dad’s book hit the New York Times best-seller list.”
“So did The Hunger Games, but I’m not investing in bows and arrows.”
Lucas wouldn’t mind if Katniss or Peeta showed up to spear Cody right then. How could someone so annoying and idiotic look so damn good? Cody was still kneeling, his dancer’s legs gracefully crossed beneath him. Even his feet were sexy, long and bare and resting against that perfect butt . . . Lucas tried not to wish bad things for people, but a sudden arrow to Cody’s back would save Lucas from his lust and them both from his anger. Efficient.
“How do you even know you’re really gay? You ever kiss a guy?” Cody’s smile turned devious, and he rose up on his knees until their noses were millimeters apart.
“No.” It came out little more than a whisper. Shoot me now. Lucas wouldn’t mind taking that arrow himself. He stepped back, slamming into the dresser behind him. Stupid tiny rooms with big, oversize furniture.
“Maybe you should.” Cody slid off the bed, closing the gap between them, trapping him against the heavy oak piece. Cody’s T-shirt brushed against Lucas’s sweater vest, his chest a warm weight. He saw it coming, saw Cody’s face angling in toward his, saw those full lips part, saw his eyes spark with intent.
Step away. Roll away. Shove him back. Whatever voices of reason he still possessed fled at the first brush of Cody’s lips. His lips were full and soft and the barest hint of pressure against Lucas’s. Not that different from when Olivia Evans had kissed him at homecoming freshman year. Then the similarities shattered. Burst into bits as every expectation he’d had blew up. Cody turned more aggressive, nipping at Lucas’s lips, licking and flicking, and demanding—
Oh. My. Word. There was a tongue in his mouth. A tongue not his. He’d fantasized about this, even liked to put his own finger in his mouth when getting off. He knew from his porn forays tha
t he was obsessed with all things oral, and yeah, he watched way more porn than was healthy. None of it came close to the reality.
Cody was right—Lucas needed this kiss more than air. It was like swiftly rising floodwaters and sandbags giving way; he surrendered to the far superior force of nature. A force that sneered at the petty effort to hold it back. Frightening and awe-inspiring and devastating. Nothing would be the same again. He could rebuild his defenses, fortify his resolve, but nothing would erase this torrent whipping through him, heating his blood, remapping his brain with teeth and lips and tongues and hands roaming up and down his back.
He’d given up a degree of control as soon as he’d entered Cody’s room, and each swipe of Cody’s tongue was another reminder of what he was losing. Lucas wasn’t in charge of this. A whimper escaped his throat and Cody quickly swallowed it. His tongue chased Lucas’s back, like the sound had made Cody want more and now he was going to take it. He hadn’t thought enough about this—what it would mean to have someone wanting him back, what the hard press of another body would add. No porn could ever show this, show the reality of being owned by someone’s mouth, fucked by their tongue. And that’s what it was. Fucking. No other word fit.
He loved it. He hated it. He wanted more. His hands flopped helplessly at his sides and his chest ached from his heart hammering into his sternum. The roar in his ears was identical to the roar of the Yellow River in spring.
“Yes.” The sound escaped around the edges of the kiss, loud enough to startle Lucas before he realized it had come from himself.
“Fuck.” Panting hard, Cody broke away. “That’s a kiss. That’s what you’ve been taking a pass on.”
This was why Lucas had never started down this path. It was far easier to turn down an abstract image of mouths rubbing up against each other. This? This was going to haunt him in the shower later, in his sleep, and still be dogging him a year from now.
The realization made him angry, redirected all his heat into a burn in his chest and tightness in his muscles.
“No. That’s not a kiss.” Liar. Liar. Liar. “That’s a point you wanted to score. It doesn’t mean crap to you, does it? ‘Oh, look, I got the poor little repressed boy all hot and bothered.’ Hah. Hah.”
“Glad to know you’re all . . . bothered.” Cody looked down at Lucas’s crotch pointedly. “And gay. Wouldn’t want you missing your chance at a picket fence and two point five kids on a hypothetical.”
“I’m not your freaking science experiment.”
“I’m not the one in need of experimenting.” Cody smirked at him. There was something else in his eyes, but Lucas was too upset to sort it out.
“I don’t need to experiment. I know exactly what I want in life, and casual sex isn’t it.” Lucas’s feet finally obeyed him, and he stalked to the door.
He’d never say it aloud. Even thinking it felt like a betrayal of his parents’ values, but he didn’t hunger for married life. Not like he craved . . . the other stuff—the stuff he tried not to think about except when he was weak and watching it online. Someday he’d find the right person. Get beyond his silly obsessions and fulfill his parents’ expectations.
Lord, he didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t know anything, but maybe if he was superlucky, his feet would know their way back to his room. When he turned at the door to say some kind of good-bye, the trapped-in-the-deep-freeze look on Cody’s face stopped him. Before he could find the words, Cody shut the door in his face. He stared at the closed door, swaying on his feet as adrenaline zipped and zapped down his limbs.
When he reached the elevators, he gazed numbly at the Up and Down buttons. His dick throbbed in his pants and he looked down the hall toward Cody’s room. Heck. A big part of him wanted to march back there, flop down on Cody’s bed, and let Cody show him everything he’d been missing. Lucas wouldn’t have to say much. Might not even have to beg. He’d knock on the door and Cody would know. He wanted Cody to press into him, crowd into him until there was nothing left but heat.
His body turned away from the elevators. He glared down at his disobedient feet. No. “I control my actions. My actions and choices reveal my character.” He punched the Up button hard. He was going to steer clear of Cody the rest of the competition. Keep his head down and stay away from temptation.
At least the coffee’s free. Cody settled down on the carpet outside their next rehearsal room. With thirteen groups and limited room availability, today was all about hurry up and wait. The long hallway outside the meeting rooms on the second floor of the hotel reminded him of high school—except with better snacks. A coffee-and-bagel table had been set up on one end of the hallway, and most of the people waiting had clumped together there.
Cody wasn’t most people. The majority of competitors knew each other from college competitions and showcases, but while they had been partying on their parents’ dime, Cody had been scraping together a career on his own. And he wasn’t here to make friends. He still had no clue why he’d invited Lucas over last night.
Crash. Bang. Cody looked up in time to see Lucas slam into two metal chairs. Hell. It figured that the M&Ms would be the group ahead of Embellish. Wincing along with Lucas, Cody watched as he brushed himself off, shook out his arms.
“Why can’t you hold the note?” One of the ring leaders of Lucas’s group, a thin, freckle-faced guy with mean eyes, lit into him. “If you weren’t so fat, you could see your feet!”
Heh. Clearly it wasn’t all brotherly love in the M&Ms. And the guy had it all wrong. Lucas wasn’t fat. His back had been all muscle under Cody’s hands, his chest a warm pressure against Cody’s own. He was solid in an old-fashioned sort of way—like the old, poured concrete steps in front of Cody’s grandmother’s house. Bulky and utilitarian and utterly reliable. A tornado could tear down the rest of the neighborhood and those steps would still be standing. That was Lucas. Most of the guys Cody knew were flighty as hell. Divas. Or older guys in the business who’d long ago figured out how to get what they wanted from guys like Cody. Classy lookers who couldn’t withstand a hard rain.
Lucas felt like he could stand up to whatever Cody dished out. Maybe it was the strength he felt in Lucas’s body and the hard set of his jaw that made Cody push him last night. Strong body and strong words and strong beliefs. Typical Iowan. Too damn bad so many of the people Cody had grown up with used their strength simply to make other people feel weak for being different. Jesus, Lucas had sounded like he actually believed that crap about celibacy. That, more than anything, had made him want to see if he could make Lucas crumble, even just a tiny bit.
But after the door had slammed shut, guilt and shame had swamped Cody. He’d fallen back on the bed, determined to stroke one out, get rid of his raging hard-on, but for the first time ever he’d been unable to get off. His usual fantasies failed him.
Fuck Lucas for messing with his head like this. He tried to focus on his coffee, but his attention kept getting sucked back to what was happening in the practice room.
“Let’s take it again from the top. Try to stay on rhythm this time,” the freckle-faced jerk commanded his preppy troops.
Unwanted pity for Lucas’s plight crept beyond Cody’s irritation with the world at large. The M&Ms were attempting way too ambitious choreography. Lucas wasn’t the only problem—these guys weren’t cut out for the kind of routine the more experienced groups could do. Cody was still new to the a cappella scene, but he knew the big-name groups had honed their songlist for years, picked members to fit their complicated routines, and toured, giving them serious performance chops.
Lucas’s group was a bunch of guys in ties flailing around pathetically to the One Republic song they’d been given. Neckties. Seriously? It was a Thursday morning. And yeah, the cameras were around, but it wasn’t a dress rehearsal day and the celebrity judges weren’t there. But still the M&Ms were all in identical khaki pants, button-up shirts, and ties. Actually, now that Cody was paying closer attention, he realized Lucas had taken his t
ie off—his shirt was open at the collar, sweat trickling down from his face. Cody licked his lips, considering. Would Lucas’s sweat taste all preppy and pent-up? Or would it taste as dirty-sweet as the kiss they’d shared—
“I’m back.” Ashley dropped her zebra-striped, oversize purse next to him as she joined Cody on the floor. “Cameras still working this room?”
“Yeah.” The camera crews were scheduled to record snippets of rehearsal all day, moving between the various practice rooms.
And that was probably what was throwing Lucas off. The cameras were tracking the M&Ms’ difficulties, and Cody had seen more than one production crew member giggling.
“Do I look okay?” Ashley tugged on her cropped pink T-shirt, glancing at the cameras inside the practice room.
“Fab.” The show would air only a minute or two of rehearsal footage and, like Cody, Ashley was determined to maximize their screen time.
Cody wasn’t sure Embellish could compete with the other groups’ drama today. A screaming diva bitch fight from the all-girl group and the wipeout-prone M&Ms were probably going to cut into the available exposure.
“I’ve been making my list,” Ashley said.
“Your list?”
“Of possibilities to replace Keith. There’s three in that group alone.” She gestured at the M&Ms. “Not the clumsy kid. I crossed him off. But there are other low-end guys even better than Keith. And we have to think about after the show, consider who’s going to be a good fit for touring.”
Cody made a noncommittal sound. He liked Ash. A lot. And when his agent had suggested doing the show, it had been a no-brainer to call her. He’d met her a few years ago, back when they both auditioned for Idol. Neither had made the show, but they’d kept running into each other on the LA scene, and he’d crashed with her and her roommates more than a few times. But if their group didn’t win, Cody had no intention of continuing with an a cappella group. And if Embellish did win? Well, like his agent said, this was a start. It was a stepping stone to the kind of exposure Cody needed for a big deal. If that happened with the group, fabulous. If not? He was headed to the top solo. Not that he’d be telling Ashley that any time soon.
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