Treble Maker

by Annabeth Albert

  “Yeah.” Cody released Lucas’s dick. “You want it?”

  “Yes.” Lucas arched up, trying to take more of it.

  “Hmmm. Maybe not.” Cody pulled the toy back completely. “I’m afraid you’re going to shoot as soon as it touches your gland.”

  “Please.”

  Cody twirled the toy against Lucas’s ass.

  He moaned in frustration.

  “Promise not to come?” Cody hovered over him, his lips millimeters away. Lucas leaned up, trying to catch a kiss. He could grab him, but that wasn’t the point. Feeling like Cody dangled a prize just out of reach made all his senses heighten—his muscles tensed, his mind focused in on only getting what Cody denied him.

  “Yeah.”

  Cody pressed the toy in at the same moment he claimed Lucas’s mouth, his tongue going deep. Relentless.

  There. Just a flitter, but the toy grazed his gland, made sparks shoot up his spine.

  “Hold still.” Cody asked for the one thing Lucas wasn’t sure he could give. He nodded anyway. “I mean it.”

  Cody broke away, leaving the toy inserted, his face challenging Lucas to defy him. Lucas snaked a hand down—

  “Better not.” Cody stripped off his shirt. “You want me naked?”

  “Please.”

  Cody unbuttoned his jeans, pausing to glare at Lucas’s rocking hips. “No cheating. I didn’t say you could fuck yourself.”

  “Mmmph.” Lucas bit his lip, trying to keep his whine in.

  Cody shucked his pants and blue underwear in a single smooth motion. His dick was harder than Lucas had seen it before, the tip all slick and damp. Yeah, Cody was in to this. A lot. He loomed over Lucas again, his dick resting on Lucas’s belly. Lucas’s hips bucked up.

  “You that eager to get off? Wanna do it this way? Me rubbing off on you, you fucking the toy?” He reached back and pressed the toy deeper.

  Lucas couldn’t keep the whine back now. The stretch was more intense, especially with Cody holding the toy still.

  “Fuck.”

  “Toy or my dick?” Cody managed to sound like he really didn’t have a preference.

  Reaching up, Lucas pulled Cody’s head down, pouring all his need and want into his kiss. Cody broke the kiss, sliding the toy in and out in a slow, lazy fuck that had Lucas cursing him.

  “You. Now.”

  “Hmmm. Not sure you’re really ready.” Even as he scolded Lucas, Cody reached for the condoms again.

  “Yes. Please. Want it.”

  “It’s going to hurt,” Cody warned him as he rolled the condom on. “You sure you want that?”

  “Don’t care.” He cared about everything else—the smell of sex filling the air, Cody’s sweat-damp skin against his, the rapid intake of Cody’s breath that belied his indifferent tone, his own throbbing dick. He hoped Cody was equally worked up because no way was he lasting, even if it did hurt.

  Cody rearranged them, dragging Lucas’s legs further apart. He pressed forward.

  It pinched. Way more than Cody’s finger or the toys. Lucas’s body battled his mind—balls tight, dick ready to go, but ass not quite cooperating.

  “This is the relax part.” Cody’s voice was softer now, his touch gentler on Lucas’s thigh. “Trust me.”

  “Trying.” Lucas’s voice came out all strained.

  “Here.” Cody brought Lucas’s hand down, putting it on Cody’s dick. “Do it like I’m the toy—take more when you’re ready.” His eyes were full of warm concern. It was too much again. Too intense.

  I love you. Lucas’s eyes burned. He didn’t need Cody to say the words yet—it was all over his face and the way he looked down at Lucas. Eyes shining, face all soft, not disguising his affection, Cody was more naked than Lucas had ever seen him—it felt like he was seeing all of Cody for the first time, like Cody was finally sharing everything with him. Maybe Cody wasn’t the virgin, but he was giving Lucas something rare and privileged nonetheless.

  “No.” He couldn’t handle the shift to being in charge right now. He hadn’t wanted sweetness or romance—wasn’t sure what to do with all these emotions. Love you. He wanted to chant it until he came. “Make me beg again.”

  “As you wish.” Cody moved away, taking all that overwhelming tenderness with him, rolling Lucas onto his side. “This might work better.”

  “Yeah.” Not being able to see Cody’s face helped. Lucas rocked backward as Cody pressed inside a little. It still burned, but not quite as bad. Lucas took a deep breath then exhaled, reminding himself how good it could get. “More.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Not yet.” Cody held still, using his cockhead to stretch the tight ring of muscles. Holy fucking cow. The sounds Lucas made were out of this world. “Please.” Lucas’s voice held equal measure discomfort and need.

  Slowly, Cody eased forward, using his hand on Lucas’s hip to encourage him to push back when he was ready.

  “Yeah. More.” Lucas’s whole body quivered against Cody. He waited for the shiver to pass before going deeper.

  Cody started a slow fuck, mimicking what he’d done with the toy, letting Lucas feel the stretch at the top of each stroke, but not too long. He’d used a crapton of lube, so everything was nice and slick but still tight as hell.

  Balls tightening, he angled his hips to finally give Lucas more pressure on his gland.

  “Fuck. Yes.” Lucas grabbed Cody’s hand. Oh, fuck. Cody’s throat clenched tighter than Lucas’s grip.

  Finding out about Lucas’s sensitive prostate gave him all sorts of dirty ideas, especially knowing how much Lucas liked to work for his orgasms. He adjusted his angle, going shallow, then deep without warning. But Cody was rapidly reaching the end of his ability to tease. Keeping up the rhythm, he put his hand right above Lucas’s dick, almost but not quite touching.

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Not sure. You gonna come as soon as I touch you?”

  “Yes. Got to come. Please.”

  “Wrong answer.” Cody moved his hand away.

  “No, you’ve got to let me.” Lucas tried to move his own hand down, but Cody batted it away. “Please. Need to come so bad.” If Lucas was hurting, it sure didn’t show in his thrown-back head and bucking hips. Cody kissed his temple, catching some of Lucas’s sweat-soaked curls.

  “I think you can wait.” He kept his assault on Lucas’s gland, trying to hit it with each stroke.

  “No. Wanna come so bad.” Lucas’s voice was all whine now.

  “Think you can hold out for a few strokes?” He moved his hand back to Lucas’s dick. “How about ten? Ten pulls on your dick?”

  “Yes. Whatever.”

  Cody snorted. He doubted Lucas could make it to three, but he wrapped his hand around Lucas’s pulsing shaft anyway. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could last ten strokes. He pulled Lucas tighter against him, breathing out the count against his ear.

  “One.” He bit Lucas’s earlobe.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gonna come.”

  “Better not.” Cody moved his hand slowly up a second time. He sped up his thrusts, going harder now, reading Lucas’s cues. Lucas was pushing back hard against Cody, his hand reaching back to grab Cody’s thigh.

  “Oh, God. It’s right there.” Lucas’s voice was as frantic as his movements.

  “Not. Yet.”

  Three. Four. Five. Lucas blew on a loud scream. Not even a shout—an all-out yell. Yes. The satisfaction at finally completely unraveling Lucas carried Cody forward into his own orgasm. His vision blurred and his ears rang as he came. He thrust a few more times, still tugging on Lucas’s dick, milking the last spurts.

  Trying to be careful, he pulled away and flopped onto his back. Holy fucking Christ. He’d wanted it to be perfect for Lucas but hadn’t really stopped to think what that would mean for himself. Wrecked. He felt dismantled and put together all wrong. His whole body was covered in sweat—he’d never, ever worked so hard for a fuck, gone so far inside the other person’s head. By the end, he’d f
elt their breathing synchronize. Hell, he’d felt their cells align that moment when Lucas grabbed his hand—he’d claimed something of Cody’s that he wasn’t ever going to recover.

  One of the reasons he seldom bottomed was that he didn’t like how exposed and vulnerable he felt afterward. But hell, he could have climbed the Hollywood sign with his bare hands and not felt as scraped raw as he did right now.

  “I win.” He nudged Lucas, clinging to the last of his bravado.

  “Nah.” Lucas sounded half-asleep. He made a floppy hand gesture. “Simultaneous. Tie.”

  “Hah.” Cody bumped legs with him. “Not hardly. You’re going to owe me.” He struggled to sound light. His chest ached. If Lucas had hated it, if he had regrets, if he never wanted to do it again . . . If, if, if, if sped through him like a bad trip, all dark colors and darker thoughts.

  “Counting on it.” Lucas lifted his head, then collapsed back on the pillows. “Feel free to get creative. Just . . . maybe wait till I’m awake.”

  Phew. The invisible noose around Cody’s neck loosened, freeing him to enjoy the fucked-out feeling. Lucas didn’t sound traumatized.

  “I love you.” The words came out on a huff of relief, and yeah, it was probably bad that it took sex to loosen his vocal cords. But Lucas’s smile made the struggle to get the words out worth it.

  “I know.” Lucas sighed happily. “Gonna sleep now.”

  Tomorrow loomed, elimination and parents and a zillion other potential dramas. Cody wished he could wrap Lucas up in the blankets, keep him here forever, away from everything that threatened to break this perfect moment.

  In the movies, this would be the scene where they smashed the competition, brought the audience to their feet, and won over the judges. After all, Lucas’s awesome job getting them the pimp slot and all their coming together in practice should be worth something. But, unfortunately, Cody had to inhabit planet Reality, where two out of three wasn’t bad.

  They’d staged the number like it was a party of random people. Raven looked like a Lord of the Rings extra in a flowy red thing with pointy sleeves, and Jeff had a red frat T-shirt on. Ashley had embraced the wardrobe freedom, looking like a life-size Bratz doll, with heavy eye makeup and a poofy black miniskirt with a red strapless top. Cody had talked the wardrobe people into red leather pants and a shirt with “Party” spelled out in rhinestones. He’d added his own combat boots and punk belt.

  And Lucas? Well, Lucas had done a last-minute costume change, much to Cody’s surprise. He’d taken forever in the wardrobe trailer, browsing the racks until he came up with a red superhero T-shirt and bright red glitter Converse shoes with music notes on them. He’d added his own jeans and a Mount Monticello cardigan. He looked like . . . himself. A probably gay, maybe just style-challenged, comic-loving, muscle-bound music geek. And Cody loved him all the more for it.

  Ashley started the song all by herself in her strong, clear soprano. Next, Raven joined in the party. Cody contributed some vocal effects using flugelhorn noises to sound like clinking cups, then Jeff and Lucas came crashing in, laying down a hard bass line for the refrain. Finally, he joined Ashley in singing, not overwhelming the arrangement, only joining in. There wasn’t a lead so much as a conversation with different voices stepping up. Lucas and Jeff called it old school, but it was different than anything Cody had attempted.

  They’d each had a cup and their beverage of choice as a prop: Ashley with diet soda, Raven with pricey bottled water, him and Jeff with label-removed beer, and Lucas with milk. The milk had cracked the audience up. It was corny and silly and more fun than any vocal brilliance he could have offered. The audience ate it up, roaring with laughter and giving them their first standing ovation of the contest.

  But the judges? Not so much.

  “That was . . . different.” Melanie Mercury’s mouth wrinkled, like she’d had a sip of something bitter.

  “Not a lot of actual singing.” The British judge acted like the song choice was entirely theirs. “I’m not sure that was a cappella so much as a college drinking game.”

  “It was a party, though.” The R&B guy tilted back in his chair, offering more faint praise. “Maybe it wasn’t your best moment vocally, but it made me feel good inside.”

  “I didn’t see enough unity.” Miss Country to the Core finally got her two cents in. She and Michelin were in big gold chairs marked “Guest.” “Too much . . . diversity can take away from the vocals. And I didn’t see the connection to the genre.”

  Oh, come on. Really?

  “I dug it.” Michelin Moses leaned forward to reach his mic. “It was different. Fun. I got what you guys were going for.” He gave the other judges the eye roll Cody had been dying to do.

  “We’ll just have to see how the rest of the groups top your party in a cup!” Melanie tittered as they exited the stage. Well, wasn’t that a perfect foreshadowing for elimination. He bet the producers had written that line for her before Embellish had even taken the stage.

  Lucas waited until they were waiting in the wings for the elimination announcement before pulling him aside.

  “I . . . uh.” He was turning all sorts of red.

  “Yeah?” Ordinarily, Cody would have been eager to exploit Lucas’s discomfort, but his patience was all used up on waiting for the results. And there wasn’t really any convenient spot to drag him to for the kind of distraction they could both use.

  “I wanted to say . . . I meant what I said last night. I want us to be together. No matter what.”

  Oh, Lucas. Cody could tell from the redness around Lucas’s eyes that he’d been hoping for a better reaction from the judges. No matter what he’d said, Lucas had held out hope they’d be saved. Hell, Lucas was probably still holding out hope.

  Much as Cody wanted a future together, he still wasn’t sure it would be fair to Lucas. But he couldn’t tell him that right then, so instead he settled for wrapping an arm around him, drawing him close.

  Lucas rested his head against Cody’s chest. “I want us free to make our way—our own rules. I want us together. Like forever.”

  Me too. Cody was trying to figure out how to voice the words with his heart revving like a drag racer. But he didn’t get a chance to reply as one of the production assistants signaled it was time to take their marks for the elimination announcement.

  Lucas supposed the elimination announcement wasn’t much of a shocker. However, right up until the final announcement, he’d prayed for a different outcome. He’d wanted to prove Cody—and everyone else—wrong. No matter what the judges said, they’d sounded terrific. And he wanted a chance to let America decide. But mainly, he’d wanted it for Cody—he wanted to make Cody’s dreams come true.

  And okay, selfishly, he wanted a way to give Cody his dreams that didn’t tear their relationship apart.

  But the judges clearly didn’t agree. In the final moments of the elimination announcement, the choice was down to Embellish, Trevor’s group, and Divas Unite, who had an uncharacteristically bad night, butchering their Reba McEntire song and ruining their placement as front-runners.

  “And the last group safe is . . .”

  If not us, please Trevor. Trevor needed this, too. No matter how frustrated Lucas was with him, he didn’t want his friend to fail.

  “Divas Unite! You are safe!”

  The girls screeched and hugged their way offstage, while the host said a bunch of meaningless nice things about them and the house music played a mournful tune. Looking back over his shoulder as they exited the stage for the last time, Lucas drank in the bright lights, the roar of the audience, the PAs rushing around. A few weeks ago, this had felt like an alien planet, but now the theater felt as familiar as his campus, leaving as crushing as last night’s argument with his parents.

  He reached for Cody’s hand, but Cody shook him off, his face seemingly unable to choose between rage and sadness. Lucas couldn’t look at the rest of the group, keeping his eyes on the floor. He heard a loud sniffle and knew at lea
st one of the girls was crying. He couldn’t see that or he might start in himself. Keeping numb was the best response. The PAs were grabbing different people to chat with the camera crew for reaction shots.

  Lucas sidestepped Dawn as she grabbed Ashley but found himself in a sea of people heading backstage. Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be—all of us going our own way. Lucas’s stomach felt like he’d pitched it down into the orchestra pit, his mood even lower. People kept shoving and pushing and making it impossible to see.

  Backstage was even more nuts than usual, people swarming everywhere, and by the time he managed to look up, the rest of the group was nowhere in sight and he was surrounded by weepy, huggy girls who kept patting one another on the back. The Divas Unite members were acting like they were the ones who were being sent home.

  Ugh. He stepped back, his hip slamming into a folding table.

  “Ouch.”

  “You okay?” Trevor appeared at his side, concern creasing his forehead.

  “Yeah. No. Heck, I don’t know.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair. “You?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sighing, Trevor leaned against the table. “Thought I might feel relieved. That it would be simpler to be sent home. Away from all this.”

  “And is it?”

  Trevor shrugged, his narrow shoulders touching the strawberry blond hair around his collar. His usual close crop had grown out a bit in LA, giving him a bit of a softer look. Right now, though, he mainly looked defeated.

  “Guess we’ll just have to see when we get back. One thing’s for sure—M&Ms aren’t going to be throwing us a welcome-back party. We’re out of the group, probably.”

  “Yeah.” Funny how a month ago, that sort of news would have sliced him open. But now it barely felt like a scratch. Reaching out, Lucas put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re too good of a singer for them anyway. You’ll find a new group or choir—”

  “I guess. But I’m not looking forward to it. Don’t want to get on a plane tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. The word crashed into Lucas. He wasn’t ready to leave either. And tomorrow? No way.