For the hundredth time in two weeks, the crappiness level of the hotel depressed him. He’d stayed in nicer places with his folks on vacations. Having to house more than one hundred singers obviously stretched the show’s limited budget, and it showed in the tiny desks, flimsy chairs, thin bedding, and diamond-patterned, low-pile carpet straight out of 1982.
“You want the Will Ferrell movie, because we didn’t see it the other night? Or this gay indie I found on On Demand last night? Fell asleep before I could click it, but the preview looked good.”
“Uh.” Lucas’s face heated, and he felt the blush spread everywhere. Despite having gay friends, he’d never watched a gay movie with someone else. The idea seemed almost unbearably intimate. “The comedy is fine.”
“As you wish.” Cody settled down against the pillows. “If you don’t want Keith germs, you can sit over here, you know. I promise not to offend your maidenly virtue.”
“Hey!” Well, heck. Now it was a challenge, and he couldn’t keep lurking against the wall. He went to perch on the side of Cody’s bed—as far away as he could get without being on the floor.
The movie started and he relaxed a bit.
“So, your friends headed back?” Cody asked, ignoring the argument on the screen.
Oh, great. A movie talker. “Uh-huh.” Lucas hoped he’d get the hint.
“So, that means you can do whatever you want now, right?” Cody said it with the enthusiasm of a bunch of junior high kids left home alone. “That’ll be fun for you.”
“Mount Monticello’s conduct code doesn’t evaporate just because I’m not around my college friends.”
“Come on. Even Amish kids get a one-time free-pass thing to use electricity and get their freak on, don’t they?”
“Rumspringa.” Lucas sighed. “And I’m not Amish. And I’m not getting anything on, even if my friends are gone.”
“Relax.” Cody’s grin ensured that Lucas was anything but relaxed. “I’m just saying—this doesn’t have to be a miserable thing. Ashley and I could take you shopping. Find you some clothes that fit. Maybe some hair product.” He reached out and touched Lucas’s hair, tugging lightly on his curls.
The touch buzzed all the way to his toes. “My hair is fine.” He moved out of reach before he could give in to the urge to sink into the touch.
“We could take you to some clubs. No one back home would have to know.”
“I would know.” Lucas rubbed his temples. He knew what happened at clubs: dancing like they’d done the other night. And then there was all the other stuff. Cocktails and backrooms and seedy sex. “What part of abstinence don’t you get?” Lucas sounded far more confident than he felt. He wasn’t sure his celibacy could withstand another ten minutes of this, let alone a whole week.
“I just don’t get why you haven’t . . .” Cody scratched his head. “Taken your gayness for a test-drive.”
“I. Don’t. Hookup.”
“But it’s not permanent, right?” Cody wasn’t giving up. “I mean, you plan to find someone to have your rainbow-colored picket fence with, right?”
“Sure. Dating someone who shares my values would be cool.” This time he couldn’t make himself sound confident. Didn’t even manage indifferent.
Cody’s gaze shifted to the screen, where the leads had dared a group of high schoolers to do a stunt involving jumping a ravine. Lucas exhaled, muscles unbunching.
“So, some of your friends are gay, right?” Cody’s silence lasted all of five minutes.
“Not my place to tell you who.” Lucas’s spine stiffened. If Cody was fishing because he was interested in someone from the M&Ms, Lucas would have to smash something.
“Not prying.” Cody’s smile was more of a smirk. “But like, your . . . code of conduct or whatever lets you date, right? As long as you keep it PG? And you’ve got friends who are in your abstinence pact?”
“Where are you going with this?” Was Cody implying he wanted to date Lucas? Lucas’s fists kneaded the comforter, unsure what to hope for.
“Just curious.” Cody shrugged. “You’ve never had a boyfriend, right? Why not? Surely there’s some sweater vest–wearing, morality-Kool-Aid–drinking dude back at the compound?”
“It’s not like that.” Lucas rolled his eyes. “I could. I don’t. Not exactly a surplus of guys willing to stop at first base, and the ones who are willing aren’t my type.” Oh, heck. He’d said way too much. As usual.
“You have a type?” Cody grinned like he’d won a prize. “What? All your purity friends think they’re tops?”
“That’s not . . .” Lucas looked up at the ceiling, wishing words would appear. Or a portal.
“Or they’re all bottoms?” Cody sounded almost hopeful at that. His eyeliner was smudged from his nap. Coupled with his full lips, the look was like the ending frames in a porno. Lucas’s dick throbbed.
“I don’t know . . . just drop it.” Lucas wondered if it were possible to get burn scars from a blush.
“You don’t know if you’re a top or bottom? Or you don’t know . . .” Cody trailed off, clearly waiting for Lucas to fill in the blanks. He could keep waiting.
“A healthy relationship isn’t based on arbitrary sexual position preference.”
“The hell it’s not. Wrestling over who’s doing the fucking is a guaranteed dick twister and a recipe for no one wanting seconds.”
Lucas couldn’t imagine anyone not begging for a second shot at Cody. He clenched his teeth around the question buzzing in his head, demanding voice.
“Come on.” Cody shoved his shoulder. “I know you’re dying to ask me what I am.”
“You’re someone who’s talking through the movie that was his idea.” Lucas shoved back.
“Fine.” Cody used the remote to raise the volume on the movie. “I’m versatile. Not that you care.” His tone of voice said he knew precisely how much Lucas cared. “But I hate fighting over who’s topping. Give me a sweet little exclusive bottom any day. Like your friend Trevor.”
“Trevor’s not . . .” Lucas made a point of not outing his friends, but Cody’s gaydar wasn’t off the mark. At least about the gay part. Trevor was in the gay-straight alliance, but he wasn’t out to his family or to off-campus people. Lucas didn’t have a clue about the other part—sex wasn’t something they talked about.
“Hah.” Cody grinned. He flicked the remote again, lowering the volume. “I knew it. You guys should hookup.”
Darn it. Why couldn’t they just watch the movie? “I don’t—”
“Hookup. I know.” Cody let out a long-suffering sigh. “My bad. You guys should take long moonlit walks and drink decaf coffee and shit.”
“If he were gay,” Lucas said carefully. “He’s not my type.” Unfortunately. He wished he was attracted to guys like Trevor—guys even more conservative than he was, guys with seemingly no interest in sex. Guys who would make his parents happy. He could picture his dad’s satisfied smile if he brought Trevor home. A religious studies major who’d read his dad’s book? There’d be steak on the barbeque and pie to celebrate. But darn if Lucas could make himself get any enthusiasm for the idea.
“So what is your type?” Cody leaned forward, way too darn close. Lucas could smell his hair gel and something softer.
“Silent.” Lucas grabbed the remote from him and raised the volume to near deafening. It didn’t help. His brain was trapped in a live porn stream of “I switch” and “Give me a bottom.” Oh, sweet hell, Lucas did not need to know that.
On the screen, Will Ferrell was tripping over desks and leering at cheerleaders. But in Lucas’s head, Cody was the one winking, the one slamming Lucas into a locker before bending him over. . . .
“So, is it older guys?” Cody’s voice interrupted Lucas’s daydream. He’d been silent all of ten minutes. “Or exotic guys? Or—”
“Not your business.” You. You. You. That’s my type.
“Oh, this has got to be good.” Cody leaned around him, blocking his view of the set. �
��You’re not into your clean-cut friends and you don’t want to talk about it. So you must want something outside that code of conduct.”
“You auditioning for CSI?” Sweat collected at the base of Lucas’s neck, but he couldn’t make himself get off the bed.
“I knew it! You’re kinky.” Cody gave him a triumphant grin.
“I am not.” He could hear his own lie. “And even if I was, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want—”
“Oh, no. You can’t get out of it that easily.” Cody shoved him back on the bed. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re okay with being gay but not with wanting . . . Oh come on. You have to tell me.”
“Nothing to tell.” Lucas struggled to sit up.
“There is.” Cody pushed him down, and before he could protest, Cody straddled his thighs, pinning him in place. “You don’t understand. I’m like the kink whisperer. Everyone tells me their kink. Even when I’d rather they not—”
“Is there seriously anything that would shock you?”
“Well, the dude who wanted to sniff my—”
“That wasn’t an invitation to share.” Kink whisperer or not, Lucas had to end this. God. Any questions he’d had about whether hell was real were answered. This was hell. If he died now, he’d be trapped here, words he tried never to think on the tip of his tongue, the will to resist quickly evaporating.
“I can hook you up, you know. Whatever it is you’re in to. This is LA. You can have whatever you want.”
You. You. You. I want you. In all sorts of terrible, wonderful ways. I want you to hold me down, make me beg for it. I want more of this. I want every kinky, twinky thing you can dream up. Put me at your mercy.
“It’s nothing that shocking.” His voice wavered. “Stupid, even.”
Cody’s face softened, and he reached down, stroking Lucas’s jaw. “You can tell me. I won’t laugh.”
Oh, hell. Something tore loose in his chest.
Knock. Knock.
“Housekeeping,” a heavily accented voice called from the hall.
“Come back later.”
“Just a minute,” Lucas yelled over Cody, pushing him off.
“Sir?” the maid called again.
“Coming.” He headed for the door. “We were about to leave for food.”
“The hell we were.” Cody chased after him. “You can’t put me off forever.”
Chapter Eight
Cody was in the shower when Lucas got back from dinner. He’d been rattled after narrowly escaping Cody’s poking and prodding and get-under-his-skin questions. Because he was afraid Trevor and everyone else in the dining area would see the truth all over his face, he’d bailed and stuffed his pockets with food to go, eating on his own as he walked the hotel grounds.
He knew on an intellectual level that there was nothing wrong with what he wanted in bed. Plenty of people wanted rough stuff. Heck, the bookstore over in Iowa City had sold out of Fifty Shades of Grey. Sure, maybe if he was lucky, he’d meet a guy somewhere down the road—someone safe and stable and secure—and he’d get some of what he wanted. But that was the problem. He didn’t want safe or stable. He wanted pure, rough, no-holds-barred sex.
He didn’t fantasize about dating or quiet make-out sessions or even sweet lovemaking. And the guilt over that dogged him. He should want it sweet and slow. Want a guy like Trevor to prove that straights weren’t the only conservatives who could wait till marriage.
But damn Cody. Damn him to hell for making Lucas feel, for making him unsure if there was a point to abstinence anymore. For making him unsure of who he was and who he wanted to be. For making him imagine exactly how Cody looked in his shower, soapy, water sluicing over his ropy muscles.
What would Cody do if Lucas tried the door? What would Cody do if Lucas got down on his knees and . . .
Stop this. One eye on the bathroom door, he stripped off his clothes, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a loose T-shirt. He’d shower in the morning. Right now, he needed to bury his head in his pillow and pray for the oblivion of sleep. He pulled the covers up to his neck and rolled onto his side. If he showered after Cody, he’d smell him, sense him in the steam and damp, and there was no way in hell he’d avoid jerking off. He could tell whatever grip he still had on his control was close to snapping, and one whiff of shower gel might be enough to get him to crawl . . .
“You turning in already?”
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
Lucas looked.
And instantly regretted it. Cody stood at the foot of his bed, clad in only a pair of clingy purple boxers. He had a towel around his neck. His chest still shone with water. There wasn’t much hair on his pecs, but he had a thicker trail of slick fuzz around his belly button leading to the waist of his boxers. As much as Lucas liked the makeup and piercings, their absence made his blood hum. Like he’d been let in on a secret.
Lucas made a noise not unlike a dying sheep and buried his face in his pillow.
“Oh, come on.” Exasperation laced Cody’s words. “I’m not going to walk on eggshells to avoid offending your maidenly sensibilities.”
“You don’t have to.” Lucas spoke to the wall.
“I mean it.” Cody sounded far more pissed off than Lucas would have thought. “I’m not walking around naked. I’ll sleep with something on. I’ll even keep my jerking off in the shower. But you don’t get—”
“You don’t have to.” The words escaped without Lucas’s permission. In a lifetime of stupid comments, it was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever said. But heck if he could make himself shut up. “It’s okay if you need to do that to fall asleep or whatever—”
“I don’t have to?” Cody came around the side of the bed. Lucas could sense him. Mere inches away. If he stretched out his hand, he could discover what Cody’s skin felt like still warm from the shower.
“You know—in the dark. Under the covers. Whatever. I’ve lived in dorms—”
“Oh, no. You don’t get to gift me the right to rub one out—”
“What the heck is your problem?” Lucas rolled over, staring him down.
“You want to see me jerk it?” There wasn’t much question in Cody’s voice.
“I didn’t say that,” Lucas whispered.
“But you meant it.” Cody took another step toward him. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re not offended. You want to see more.”
“Whatever.” Lucas tried to act like he didn’t care, like his insides weren’t coming apart, like he wasn’t desperate for it.
“Say it.” Cody put one knee on the bed. “Say it and I’ll do it.”
“Right now?” Lucas’s voice traveled up into the high range that would make even an alto green with jealousy.
“Oh, yeah. I’m not shy.” That was for darn sure. Cody’s . . . package was practically level with Lucas’s face, his erection straining against the purple fabric. It wouldn’t take much to rub his face against the bulge.
“If you need—”
“We both know this isn’t about what I need.” Cody reached down, one hand resting next to his dick, making it pop out even more. “You like to watch, don’t you?”
“Maybe. So what? I watch porn sometimes. You wanna make a big deal out of it? Tell me you don’t watch guys get off.” Lucas tried to sound disinterested.
“All the freaking time.” Cody smirked, a wicked grin that made Lucas want to kiss him. “But I wouldn’t think porn would fit with the whole celibacy thing.”
Oh. That. Lucas had almost forgotten about the line he was supposed to be toeing.
“It keeps me from stupid acts,” he whispered. “So as long as I ration it out—”
“Ah. More rules.” Cody added a second hand, rubbing against a patch of closely trimmed hair right above his dick. “What do you really want? Right now?”
“It wouldn’t be that different from porn. . . .”
“That what you want to believe?” Cody shook his head. “You want live-action porn?”
Lucas nodded. Might be stupid, but if he could tell himself that, there was a chance he might be able to look at himself in the mirror in the morning.
“Fine. You still have to ask for it.”
Lucas squished his eyes shut. The pushier Cody got, the more it was like he had a direct line to Lucas’s fantasies. And the more resistance became impossible.
“I want to see you.” The bed sank as Cody lowered onto it. “On your own bed.” He clung to that last little bit of sanity. If Cody were next to him, no way was he keeping from touching him.
“All right, then.” He heard Cody pad across to his bed, felt his absence. The distance between their beds felt chilly and infinite and a heartbeat from everything he’d ever wanted.
Adrenaline thrummed through Cody’s body, making him toss back his bedcovers hard enough to send the pillows sailing to the floor. What was he thinking, baiting Lucas like this?
He’d come out of the shower to Lucas’s horrified look and snapped. Pushing Lucas was fun. Riling him up was darn near addictive, a heady rush not unlike heading down a ramp on a skateboard. But the creeping fear that he was offending Lucas—or worse, being judged and found lacking? That fucking sucked.
So he’d lost his patience with the whole deal. Fuck it. He wasn’t going to look over his shoulder all damn week. And yeah, he’d needed to know what was behind that strangled sound and those wide eyes. And once he’d seen the heat in Lucas’s eyes, seen the want lingering there, well, then it had been on. Earlier, when he’d had Lucas on his back, it had taken willpower Cody didn’t have to keep from kissing him. Only curiosity about his secrets had kept him from making Lucas his own personal playground.
Cody stripped off his boxers before climbing on the bed. His dick bounced in front of him as he sat cross-legged.
Treble Maker Page 10