Treble Maker

by Annabeth Albert

  “You continue to work that out.” He wiggled off Lucas, pulling off his pants. Cody grinned, whatever tenderness he’d had a moment ago discarded like his pants, which landed on the floor. His body was a work of modern art—all lean angles broken up by the colorful splotches of his tattoos. His chest was almost hairless, but the thicker trail on his stomach led to a closely cropped patch of hair surrounding his long cock. Its plump, cut head made saliva gather in Lucas’s mouth. He wanted to lick the drops of pre-cum leaking out the slit.

  Cody shifted so his ass was mere inches away—like the rest of him, it was lean. Firm. Perfect.

  “Commando again?” He swallowed hard. “Dude, you really need to do laundry.”

  “You offering? Want me to grab some quarters right now?” Cody bounded off the bed.

  “Heck no.”

  “No, no, I think this is a terrific idea. You can wash all my delicates. Read the labels for me. I’ll stay here. Get off. And get clean clothes.” Cody rubbed his hands together, his cock jiggling in front of him.

  “Asshole.”

  “Yes.” Cody stuck his tongue out with an exaggerated Mick Jagger leer. “And you love it.”

  God. There was nothing, nothing like the rush of making Lucas do things. Cody took his time riffling through his nightstand drawer, drawing out the tension and watching Lucas squirm.

  He needed this power trip to recover from his emotional word vomit fest. He didn’t blame Lucas for looking at him like he was insane—he’d gone all Kanye crazy about stupid crap he tried never to think about. His throat burned and his eyes itched. He was allergic to his past.

  Finding what he’d been looking for in the nightstand, he took a deep breath. This was the best way to release all his jangling nerves. Wasn’t gonna screw it up by letting his brain fuck with him anymore. Thinking too much about the past was a sure ticket to crazy town. Instead, he held Lucas’s eyes for a long beat, making sure he was back in the needy place. Then he tossed the shiny bottle on the bed, hitting Lucas’s stomach.

  He seriously didn’t get what Lucas’s hang-up was with his weight. He always wore undershirts under his shirts and acted like a skittish puppy when he got undressed. But Cody liked his solid bulk, liked pressing against him.

  “Uh?” Lucas made a low sound as he looked down at the bottle.

  “What?” He played dumb. Let Lucas think he had more planned, and watched the play of emotions across Lucas’s face—longing, fear, uncertainty, want. “Don’t you ever like something slick? Something better than spit to rub off with?”

  “Lotion a few times.” Lucas went red. Cody’s blood pumped harder. He loved getting Lucas to confess stuff. “But it stung. Like soap.”

  “And the condom-and-lube aisle is off-limits to you?”

  Lucas shifted uncomfortably, and Cody took the opportunity to undo his pants, yanking them down Lucas’s hips. Lucas’s dick sprang up, tip already damp—with his loose foreskin, he probably didn’t need slick as much as Cody, but it was still going to be fun showing him.

  “You know, if your group really wants to promote abstinence, you should be having monthly field trips to the nearest adult shop. Dildos, lube, and fleshlights for everyone. Boyfriend in a box.”

  “I’ll bring it up.” Lucas’s mouth twisted, like the joke hurt a little. Good. He needed to learn to lighten up more. Cody liked the side of Lucas that had a sense of humor way more than the righteous indignation he sometimes affected. “But I think some of them are planning on never having actual sex.”

  “Like never do anal? Even if they get married?”

  “Yeah. Some guys think that’s the sin—everything else is okay in a relationship, but no . . . butt stuff.”

  “Butt stuff?” Cody ran a hand up Lucas’s thighs, dipping between his legs. “Ass play, you mean? Darn shame to miss out on that.” Cody could get fucking not being someone’s favorite thing—his own was getting blown. Easier. None of the complicated expectations that sometimes came with fucking. But when the vibe was right? Yeah, nothing quite like having a willing guy under him, especially a big beefy one like Lucas.

  “You . . . own that stuff ?”

  “What? A dildo? Why? You want to see?”

  “Here? You have sex toys here? But you had a roommate!”

  Cody had to laugh at the righteous indignation in Lucas’s voice. The horror. Oh noes! A dildo! “Who didn’t follow me into the shower.”

  “I might want to see that.” Lucas went pink.

  Oh yeah. Rewarding Lucas’s admission, Cody straddled his thighs again. He ran his hands up Lucas’s chest.

  “But I thought . . . you don’t bottom?” Lucas’s cheeks got even rosier.

  “Liking a little pressure on my gland isn’t the same thing as bending over for someone.” Cody shrugged. It wasn’t that he never bottomed. He was just darn picky about the who and when. “Why? You like the idea of fucking someone?”

  “Maybe.” Lucas looked across the room at the closed curtains.

  “Or you wanna get fucked more? Don’t tell me you’ve seriously never used a toy?” Cody flicked his thumbs over Lucas’s nipples. Lucas looked way too needy every time he mentioned getting fucked not to have tried something on himself.

  “Not . . . something purchased.” Lucas’s face was nearly purple now, and Cody choked back another laugh.

  “You know, produce and hairbrush handles will only get you so far. I’m gonna have to introduce you to the good stuff.” He leaned down, his knees digging into the mattress, and licked Lucas’s nipple, biting lightly.

  Lucas moaned, a low, greedy sound.

  Dick throbbing, Cody reached for the lube bottle. “This stuff’s amazing. It’s from a sex shop in West Hollywood. Expensive as hell, but way better than anything you can get at a big-box store.”

  He sat up, giving Lucas a little show as he smoothed some over his cock. The cool lube quickly turned warm from the heat of his palm. “You wanna see?”

  “Yeah,” Lucas whispered. “Please.”

  Cody drizzled more into his hand, then spread it over Lucas’s cock.

  “Oh. My. God.” Lucas’s dick pulsed, and Cody tightened his grip.

  “You better not come yet.” He tried to look stern as he loomed over Lucas, letting his dick rub along Lucas’s stomach. The lube turned Lucas’s trail of hair into a pleasing tickle. He slid back and forth while working a hand between them to stroke Lucas slowly. “You like that?”

  “Oh yeah.” Lucas bit his lip hard enough to turn the skin white. “More.”

  “More what?” Cody kept up the slow grind. His wrist ached from the weird angle and the sheets were rubbing on his knees, but he didn’t care.

  Lucas took forever to answer, worrying his lip back and forth. “Kiss me.”

  “Oh yeah.” Cody bent forward, taking his time, brushing his lips back and forth over Lucas’s until Lucas arched up against him. Then he took Lucas’s mouth, pushing his tongue in and fucking his mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts against Lucas’s stomach. Releasing Lucas’s dick, he worked a hand under him, squeezing his plump ass. In response, Lucas sucked hard on Cody’s tongue. Oh. Hell. Yeah.

  Lucas took frantic breaths in between kisses. Oh yes. He had to be close. Their eyes met. Held. Lucas looked up at him like Cody held the key to the fucking universe. It wasn’t just sex in his eyes—there was something else there, something that made Cody’s own need back off a little under its weight. Lucas saw too damn much. Wanted too much. Made Cody want stupid things.

  He broke the kiss, rolling off Lucas. “Flip over.” He smacked Lucas’s thigh. “Want to show you something else.”

  Lucas tugged his hands free of the shirt, then rolled onto his side. His dick still bobbed above his belly, but his back tensed up and his ass clenched as Cody ran a hand down his side.

  “Hey.” Cody dropped a kiss against his neck. Damn. It. He’d made Lucas roll so he could stop feeling so damn much and instead new stuff bubbled up. Tenderness he’d rather not feel
but couldn’t seem to stop. “I told you, we’re not fucking. Just want to show you a different way to go. Closer to the real deal.”

  He shifted, sliding his dick between Lucas’s meaty thighs. Lucas tensed more, his butt and back stiffening against Cody’s chest.

  “Sssh. I’m not going to hurt you.” Something caught inside Cody’s chest. He hurt. He stroked Lucas’s side, trying to loosen him up. “Is that what you’re worried about? That fucking will hurt?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “It shouldn’t. Not if you’re with someone who knows what he’s doing—takes the time to get you all ready. Get you all soft and open and begging for it—exactly like you talk about wanting.”

  Cody hated him already—the nameless, faceless bastard who would get to be Lucas’s first, who would get to see Lucas’s face as he slid home. . . .

  “Yeah.” Lucas’s exhalation was soft and he relaxed into Cody. “Was that what your first time was like?”

  “No.” Cody shut him up with a sharp bite on the shoulder. He should know better than to romanticize another virgin; that was part of what he didn’t get about Lucas’s vow. Two virgins were a fucking recipe for disaster. Almost as big a mistake as letting an older guy at a club be Cody’s second try. That was when he’d figured out that he liked being the one in charge far more.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucas whispered.

  Cody bit him again, just enough to make him whimper. Lucas’s pity was the worst thing in the world. Made him feel all empty and raw. Made this less of a game and more . . . Cody didn’t know what the fuck, but he knew he didn’t like it. Didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. He rocked against Lucas, sliding against the hard muscles of his thighs, bumping against the soft sac of his balls. This. He needed this. Only this.

  “Oh fuuuck,” Lucas moaned.

  “You like that?” Cody slipped back onto familiar territory. “Want more?”

  “Yes.” Lucas pushed back, arching his chest and torso away from Cody. Using an arm to pin Lucas, Cody kept them plastered together.

  “I’m not sure.” Cody ran a hand down Lucas’s chest, stopping short of his cock and running it back up again, a slow tease. The angle made it easy to tease and hard to thrust as much as Cody’s cock was demanding.

  “No. Want it.” Lucas’s head fell against Cody’s. “Please.”

  “Mmm.” He stroked all around Lucas’s patch of hair, still not touching his shaft. “Maybe I’ll just go this way. Let you wait.”

  “Please.” Lucas’s moans dropped lower, but his voice spread out all thin and needy, and it hit Cody like a double shot of Patrón. “I want to come.”

  “Yeah.” Cody pulled Lucas’s hip closer. “If we were really fucking, I’d make you wait until I shot, then suck you off.”

  “Yeah. You . . .” He felt Lucas swallow against him.

  “Like that idea, huh?” He stroked lower, brushing Lucas’s dick, but dipping beneath it to touch his own. Lucas moaned and tried to bump his hand. Removing his hand, he shifted the angle, pulling on Lucas’s ass until his cock slid along the crack. “Squeeze me tighter, baby. Let me show you more.”

  “Yes.” Lucas’s ass gripped him tighter and tensed his thighs, giving Cody a nice slick channel to thrust in. So much for fucking being his second favorite thing—he’d deal with laryngitis for a week if it meant he could fuck Lucas for real. Wouldn’t take much. Little more lube. Shift of his hips. And Lucas was totally ramped up enough to say yes.

  Which was why Cody didn’t ask. Instead, he rode that spot, taking in all Lucas’s moans and gasps. He rolled them a bit so Lucas could rub on the bed—Cody wanted to push him more, make him demand Cody get him off.

  “You know, some guys can get off just from fucking.” That got a long, shuddery moan from Lucas. “Think you could? No hand on your dick. Just me nailing that spot inside—over and over.”

  “Don’t. Know.”

  “I wouldn’t let you come otherwise.” Hell yes. Cody’s thrusts picked up as the fantasy unspooled. “Tell you that you had to take it. Make you come when I said.”

  “Please.”

  “More. Tell me what you’d say.” He’d gotten Lucas to say it the other night, and the words had been enough to tip him over.

  “Fuck me.” The words rumbled deep, like they came from some hidden place in Lucas’s chest, but once freed, others followed. “Fuck me. Please. Want you.”

  That did it. Cody snapped his hips faster and snaked a hand under Lucas, finding his leaking dick. Damn. Way too cramped to play like he wanted, but it didn’t matter because Lucas was coming undone—bucking against Cody and making all sorts of needy now-please-now noises.

  “Gotta ask me if you want to come.” Cody tightened his grip, letting Lucas rock through his lube-slick fist.

  “Please.” One of Lucas’s hands twisted the sheet, pulling it loose from the corner of the bed. His other hand came around, grabbing Cody’s side. “More.” His whole body tensed, muscular thighs dragging against Cody’s dick, giving him slick friction to rub into. “Get me off.”

  Nipping at his neck and shoulders, Cody gave him what he wanted, plastering himself to Lucas’s back. The heavy press of their bodies hampered his hand’s range of motion. His quads burned, but all he cared about was coaxing more sounds from Lucas, more full-body shudders, more pleas.

  Lucas went first. The sudden slickness filling Cody’s hand did him in and he came, too, burying a moan against Lucas’s neck as he came in a rush, hips jerking against Lucas’s ass. Gradually, he gentled his mouth, shifting the bite to a series of soft kisses. He felt burned; the sweat cooling on his back was almost too much sensation. Moving wasn’t happening, but he did free his hand, wiping it on the sheets. Damn. They’d wrecked the bed.

  We can sleep in mine. The words were right there, but he didn’t voice them. He was hardly picky, having crashed on sofas and futons and mattresses on the floor for years, but sleeping next to Lucas seemed different. Made his nerves jangle, like he was about to go on stage.

  “We should shower,” he said instead. He still didn’t move, shifting just enough to make sure he wasn’t crushing Lucas.

  “Yeah,” Lucas said sleepily. “Cody . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  Lucas sighed deeply, happy snuffling noises. Cody figured he’d gone to sleep for real and let himself drift, too.

  “I wanted this.” Lucas’s voice was soft, but he reached over and squeezed Cody’s thigh with a meaty grip. “I mean I want this. But it scares the crap out of me to want it so much.”

  Something went liquid inside Cody’s chest. Cody had never understood the confessional urge some people felt postfucking. Usually irritated the crap out of him and killed any urge for a repeat. But instead of looking for an exit, he stroked Lucas’s side. Cody’s stomach burned. Now he felt like total shit for going off on Lucas earlier. Poor, scared baby lion.

  “Look . . .” Cody took a deep breath. He’d never said this before. Never even felt tempted. “I’m no good at the boyfriend thing. Not gonna be your picket-fence prince of whatever. But . . . I want to be with you while you’re here.” He waited, holding his breath. He really had no effing clue what he was doing here. Wasn’t like he and Lucas had any sort of future—Lucas didn’t have long-term music plans any more than Cody had long-term relationship plans. Hell, Cody didn’t even have next-week plans. All he had was win-the-show plans. And Lucas. And as long as he still had one, he wasn’t going to let go of the other.

  “I . . . thanks.” Lucas scratched behind his ear. “I’m not looking for whatever right now. Still figuring my stuff out, but . . . I’m not going to freak out if you touch me in public or people figure it out. Much.” He didn’t sound any too sure. “I want to stop hiding from myself.”

  “So you said.” Cody nuzzled in for another kiss. And no matter what Lucas said now in his postcome happy stupor, he’d be regretting it once he got dirty looks—or worse—from his friends. But right now, all he wanted was another minute here, holding
Lucas. If Lucas wanted to find himself, Cody wanted to help draw the map.

  Part Three: Chart Toppers Week

  Perfect Harmony

  S2, Ep 3

  “Download This”

  The top nine groups tackle viral sensations and chart toppers. Weaknesses of each group are exposed, behind-the-scenes drama takes over, and one group doesn’t have enough to survive another week.

  —Cable Con Viewer’s Guide

  “. . . Embellish turned in one of the best performances of the night, and their change of bass paid off. However, the judges still seem lukewarm about this group’s punk twist. Our prediction? They’ll be on the chopping block soon.”

  —Music Weekly, Episode Two Recap

  Chapter Twelve

  “So, I hear you’re homesick?”

  “What?” Lucas juggled his backpack and his cell phone as he got off the bus with the others returning to the hotel after a day of practicing at the theater. He should have known better than to answer his phone. But he’d been playing phone tag with his mom for days and her texts had got increasingly insistent. Might as well get the talking over with. He lugged his stuff over to one of the benches outside the lobby.

  “Ran into Chuck O’Malley at the grocery store—he’s back working at Milton’s.” His mom’s voice crackled over the phone. Like always, she probably had the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. “And he said he thought you were having a rough time.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Lucas wasn’t ordinarily violent, but he could have put a serious hurt on O’Malley right then. Self-righteous asshole.

  “Well, we miss you here.” His mom’s laugh said she didn’t believe his denial. “I’m not sure Skippy will even recognize you when you get back.”

  Forget the dog. I’m not sure I recognize me.

  “Bet Grayson and Molly are huge now, too.” He tried turning the conversation to his sister’s kids. He was the baby of the family—his twin sisters were eight years older than he was, and bound and determined to repopulate Iowa with their respective husbands. His brother was six years older and would be adding to the grandkid tally in the fall with his first baby. After being the only one at home for most of his teens, it was kind of nice to have the nieces and nephews distracting his parents and deflecting some of the attention off him.