by BA Tortuga
Calvin gasped and nodded wordlessly, so obviously wanting, arching back and bearing down on his fingers.
“Beautiful.” Tucker moaned, the sound raw and wonderful in his ears.
Calvin kissed him, a needy sound escaping against his lips. “More.”
“Everything.” He pulled his fingers free and lined his cock up. “All of us.”
Calvin reached back and took his shaft in one hand, guiding the head of his cock inside and groaning as it slipped past that tight outer ring. “Tucker. So good.”
He gritted his teeth and nodded, letting the scrape and buzz fill him, claw up his spine.
Shifting upright, Calvin gripped his shoulders and held on, that sweet ass taking in his entire bare length. Calvin wiggled in his lap, then leaned up and kissed him again before starting to ride, long and slow, moaning into his mouth.
He dug in, meeting Calvin’s thrusts, one after another after another. His abs began to burn, but he’d be damned if he stopped.
“Fuck yeah.” They held each other’s eyes for another moment, and his lover’s face tightened into a lovely grimace of pleasure. But as Calvin picked up the pace, moving on him with more intent, it was becoming harder and harder to focus.
“Love you.” An angel of fire. His angel with wings of flame.
“Love you, Tucker.” Calvin held on to the back of his neck with one hand, and the other found that pretty cock and started to stroke.
Tucker pushed faster, harder, grinding up into Calvin’s ass. He needed this. They needed this.
He felt the muscles around his cock start to ripple and pulse along his sensitive prick, and Calvin grunted, pressing their foreheads together and straining to match his efforts. They’d been working up to this all day.
“Make me howl,” Calvin whispered to him, breathing hot air across his face. “Out here by the fire. Take what you want. I’m yours.”
He grabbed Calvin’s hips, his low cry as much a growl as Calvin’s namesake for him. “Mine.”
They rocked together, moaning and panting, bodies and breath tangled up into one. Calvin shivered against him finally and lost any sense of rhythm, hips bucking, and seared his belly with hot spunk.
Calvin’s howl cut right through the darkness, and Tucker would swear the fire flared behind him.
The whole world was his lover, lifted up on wings of fire.
He bucked up, driving now, his desperation pushing him higher and higher.
Calvin kissed him, cutting off his air, making his head and the firelight spin. He shot so hard the world tightened down into a single dot of light, his breath caught in his chest.
“Tucker!”
Suddenly he was able to breathe again as Calvin tore his mouth away, shouting his name.
“God. I love you, baby.” Kisses rained down on his face and neck.
“Love. Love.” Tucker was repeating himself, but his brain was dissolved, shot out through his cock.
“I know. God, I know.” He heard Calvin breathing, a sort of slow, exaggerated inhale and exhale, followed by a whimper now and then as Calvin shifted in his lap.
“Damn. That was…. Damn.” Words were not his friends.
“Yeah. That was. You’re so… powerful. Beautiful. Your muscles all pumped and you just light up when we…. Jesus, tiger.”
He took another kiss. It was the best way he understood to say thank you. God, he felt like he could breathe, like his chest had opened after so long.
Calvin shivered again and turned in his lap, curling into his chest. “Getting chilly.” He could feel the goose bumps on Calvin’s arms.
“Come home, then. We’ll take a shower, maybe have some eggs.”
“Shower. Snack. Snuggle.” Calvin licked at his throat and kissed his jaw.
“The good things.” God, he was going to have to figure out how to stand up.
Calvin dressed without leaving his lap, even managed to pull those low-ride blue jeans almost all the way on without moving. He gave his lover a little boost, and Calvin struggled upright with a groan and fastened up the top button.
“Now you.” Calvin stuck out a hand to help.
“You’re assuming I got bones.”
“Such a compliment. Thank you.” Calvin teased him, flirting, a smile brighter than the moon on his lips. “Come on. Try.”
“Yeah. My butt will get tired down here.” He stood up on shaky legs and managed to get his shorts on, and then worked on covering the embers with ash. No burning down the house.
Calvin helped him, and they had it banked in no time. “Will it burn out overnight, do you think? Or do we need to come back out tomorrow and put it out?”
“It’s fixin’ to rain tonight. Thunderstorms. No worries.” He couldn’t wait to watch it roll in.
“Yeah? Ooh. I love thunderstorms!” Calvin’s eyes lit up, and he looked like a teenager for a minute.
“We can watch from the porch or the bedroom or the loft.” Whatever turned Calvin on.
“Let’s see where we end up. Maybe the hammock on the porch if it’s not too cold.”
They headed back the way they’d come, hand in hand, Calvin leaning close. The walk didn’t seem to take nearly as long as the walk out. It was always a faster trip home. By the time they got home he could smell the ozone on the breeze. The storm was coming in.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CALVIN SAT on the kitchen counter, feet dangling, munching on a piece of avocado toast. He stared at his cell phone. “Jesus, Tucker. I have twenty-seven voicemails.”
He felt so great after last night. He thought Tucker would disappear to paint, but they’d ended up falling asleep together on the porch as the storm died down, and that’s where they both were when the sun came up this morning, tangled together in the hammock.
He really didn’t want to blow this buzz on work, but he knew he’d moved past petulant radio silence and into irresponsible territory now, and he really did want to work again one day.
He scrolled through the messages first. Four from Timmy, and they didn’t start until two days ago. A couple here and there from Zoe, and the rest were all from Michael.
“Damn, honey. Twenty-seven? None of them are from me, even.” Tucker grinned at him, eyes bright in the tanned face.
“I would listen to all twenty-seven if they were.” He snorted. No, he wouldn’t. And he wasn’t going to listen to all of these either. He started with Timmy’s last.
“Hey, man,” Timmy drawled into the phone. So stoned. “Just checking in with you, dude. It’s been, like, forever, and I just wanted to call—again—and make sure that Tex hasn’t turned you into a cowboy. Call me. I kinda miss your neuroses.”
Calvin laughed.
Tucker glanced up at his laugh, offering him this warm, pleased grin, like it suited Tucker totally to hear him happy, and then Tucker bent back to his sketch pad.
“Timmy wants to know if you’ve turned me into a cowboy.”
He kept Timmy’s other message. If they were all that cute, they’d be worth listening to. Then he moved on to Michael’s latest message, which was left just yesterday, trying not to wince reflexively.
“Calvin. I have work for you. Your pity party is officially over. Call me. Or don’t call me and I’ll give it to someone else.”
Hold up. Michael was making clients wait for him? Whoa. He didn’t know he had that much cred. He hit Call Back, and the line started to ring in his ear.
“Jealous?” Michael’s voice was smooth and chilly.
Calvin blinked. “What?”
“Are you jealous that I am about to hand off your next 2(X)IST gig to Bobby Abrams?”
Bobby was basically him with darker hair. Except Bobby was a diva who hadn’t earned it. “Wait. Don’t. You are? Don’t yet.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought you were on a honeymoon or something.”
He sighed. “Can we start this conversation over, please?”
“I don’t know, man. Are you coming back to real life again?”
No stress. Calvin rolled his eyes. It was total stress.
It was stress, the kind he missed, if he were perfectly honest. Real life, though… this place was also real life. Tucker’s home had started to feel like his too. They were easy together here, things were simple, and his mind was quiet. He liked it. Just as much as the noise and the lights and the busy that was New York.
“Yeah. Yes, I’m coming back. I need a little more time, though. Uh….”
“Two weeks from today. They want you next week. I can put them off until the week after, but that’s it, Calvin. You show up for the shoot two weeks from today, okay? I’ll send a car. Either you’re in it, or…. Cal, just be in it. Please?”
“I’ll be in it. I’ll book the flight.”
“I’ll text you the deets. Come back in shape, yeah?”
“I’ve been pretty good. No problem. Except I might be a little tan?”
“Meh. That’s what photo editing is for.”
Tucker was going to have to limit his marks to places covered by briefs. He grinned. That would be okay. “Perfect. See you then.”
“You’re in demand, Cal. Don’t sweat it. Got me?”
It would have to be, for now at least. “Yep. Thanks.”
Michael hung up.
Tucker’s eyes were on his sketchbook, the images appearing like magic, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. “You need me to book you a flight, honey, just tell me when and I’ll take care of it.”
Tucker would take care of it because Tucker had some crazy stack of endless cash. His paintings must do very well. That much Calvin had worked out after being in Texas about three days. “You know that me working isn’t so much about the money anymore, right? I mean, I get that it isn’t an issue for you. If it was just money I wouldn’t go. You know that, right?” He might not go for work, but he’d have to go once in a while for his sanity.
“I do.” Tucker’s grin was more than a little self-deprecating. “Honey, if there’s anything I know, it’s needing to work. That’s sort of my thing.”
Calvin hopped off the counter and sat on Tucker’s lap—under the sketch pad so his lover could keep on scribbling—and kissed Tucker’s temple. “I do love you, tiger. And I do need a plane ticket.”
He heard Tucker offer to book him a flight, not them a flight. This was going to need talking about. They were going to be spending a bunch of time in different places, on and off for… potentially forever. They had to figure that out. They had to make it work.
Had to.
“Whatever you need, honey.” Tucker tilted his face and took a kiss, sweet and soft.
“Mmm.” That was perfect, and he loved the tickle of whiskers on his face. Okay, Tucker didn’t seem worried. He’d try not to be. Ha. Right. He’d turned worrying into a hobby.
Tucker’s phone started buzzing on the table, and his lover frowned, staring at it like it was a bug. Calvin got it. Tucker’s phone never rang. Never. He wasn’t sure Tucker believed it was for more than texting, taking pictures, and surfing.
“Wrong number, maybe?” He reached for it and picked it up, looking at the display.
No. No, that said Momma.
Huh.
That wasn’t a wrong number.
“It’s your mother.” He showed Tucker the display and put the phone down on top of the sketch pad in case it tried to bite him. Tucker’s mom. Wow.
“Yay.” Tucker winked and picked the phone up like it was no big thing, but Calvin could see the tension in the lines around Tucker’s lips. “Hey, lady. What’s up?”
Calvin watched him carefully, rubbing his shoulders and keeping still.
“What? When? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Y’all know better than to just show up on me. I don’t like that shit.” Tucker’s lips pursed. “No, ma’am. Calvin isn’t a fucking figment of my imagination. I’m not delusional.”
Show up? Shit, this was a big thing if Tucker just swore at his mother. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He should disappear for a while maybe, hide up in the loft or something. For now he just kept rubbing Tucker’s back and trying to soothe shoulders that hadn’t felt this tight to him ever.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Y’all come on.” Tucker hung up the phone, eyes snapping. “Seriously? How hard is it to call an hour before and ask if we’re busy? That’s just rude. I swear to God, honey, she just aggravates the living shit out of me. You’d think she was raised in a barn.”
Calvin blinked at Tucker. He’d never seen his lover like this, never heard Tucker’s voice raised like that. He could feel himself going into flutter mode, and he swallowed. “Well. Uh. They’re like here, here? Like now?” Jesus, he was wearing bright pink underwear. That’d be a great first impression. “You want me to disappear for a while?”
“They’ll be here in about twenty, and no. They’re coming to see you, apparently. Although they sort of think I’m making you up.” Tucker grinned for him, all of a sudden. “The temptation to have you just run around in rooms they’re not and make spooky noises while I pretend to talk to an empty chair is huge. Boogala.”
Calvin stared at him a moment, until Tucker’s mischievous joy got him and he started to laugh. “I could totally pull that off.” He sobered up pretty quickly, though. “Coming to see me?” He hopped up off Tucker’s lap, sending the sketchbook to the floor. “Sorry. Oh God. What should I wear? Shit, I need to do my hair.” He turned and took a few steps toward the bedroom. Meeting Tucker’s parents? “Preppy conservative? New York chic? Flirty leggings? God.”
“Whatever makes you happy. You’re beautiful, no matter what.”
Tucker was not helping.
“And you need pants. Hmm? A shirt maybe too?”
“They deserve to have me as is. Assholes. They think I’m crazy. I mean, I love them, but they do. They don’t get me.” Tucker stood up, grabbing his sketch pad. “And I have ideas. Light pollution. It’s going to be a whole series. For sale. The ones here, those are yours. The blue series, I mean. They’re yours. For you.”
“Mine? Oh, how sweet.” He loved that series. Like, really loved it. “Thank you, tiger. Can I take one back to New York with me? Or is that weird to break them up?”
He’d make Tucker put some shorts on at least. But now he had a better idea of what he was going to wear. He was going to be himself. Marge said she liked him better that way too. If it was good enough for Marge, it was more than good enough for Tucker’s unsupportive parents.
“You can do what you want. They’re yours.” Tucker followed him to the bedroom, tugging on a paint-spattered pair of baggy shorts and a Britney Spears T-shirt. Looked like Tucker knew exactly what he wanted to wear too.
He pulled on pair of white shorts that were covered in polka dots of every color and a loose hot pink tank top. Then he spent some time spiking his hair in a fauxhawk and put on dark mascara, a thin line of eyeliner, and some glittery pink eye shadow. It felt great to play again, reinvent himself. When he was done, he gave himself a smile in the mirror. He hadn’t seen that guy in a while. He’d missed him.
He ought to make an impression.
“Okay, Britney. How do I look?”
Tucker looked him over, seriously, carefully. “I like the way that makes your eyes shine. Does it feel funny? The glitter?”
“It’s a little heavy, but that gives me bedroom eyes, don’t you think? It’s one of my favorites.” He’d thought about the matching glitter lipstick too, but it kind of melted in hot weather, and that would just be messy.
“I think I’d look silly in it, but you look edible.” Tucker stroked his belly, fingers knowing just where to touch.
“You would look silly in it. Although some eyeliner might be hot. Mmm.” Calvin went up on his toes and begged a kiss.
Tucker leaned down and gave it to him, easy as anything. Oh, that was good, the way Tucker appreciated him.
He let the kiss end, let that moment ground them
both a little before speaking. “Tucker. They’re not going to like me. And that’s okay. You know what I’m saying? I don’t need them to.”
“I give no shits about whether they like you or not. This isn’t their life. I’m not crazy, Calvin, not like they think. I have my demons, but… you get me. You see it and you aren’t scared.”
He hated that all of this was happening this way. That he and Tucker didn’t have time to talk it through first and get on the same page. That tension and conflict was coming into this house. He hated it. “You’re not crazy. There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re beautiful. You’re mine. They can think whatever they like.”
“Okay. I’m proud to stand with you.” Tucker kissed him again. “I just want them to go and let me get the basics down for the new paintings so we can get in the pool together.”
“Good. So we’ll say hello, and then we’ll tell them you’re busy. You need to work. Give us more notice next time. Right? They don’t have to stay more than five minutes. All they want to do is meet me.” They could shake his hand, make their judgments, and get lost. They weren’t his parents, but he felt perfectly justified in telling them to go home.
“Tuck? Tuck, where are you, honey? Your dad and I are worried.”
“Note that they weren’t worried until I texted them that I had my lover here with me.” Tucker rolled his eyes. “Coming, Momma.”
“Jesus, they don’t knock?” He followed Tucker, right behind him as Tucker pulled him along by the hand. Breathe. They won’t be the first people to think you’re a nutjob. It wasn’t about him as far as he was concerned. He was all about his tiger.
“I know, right? I need to take their gate remote.” Tucker kept him close, and then they were face-to-face with a tiny, pink crew cut, purple-lipstick lady with pursed lips and bright orange cat’s-eye glasses.
Wow.
“Son. I—” Her bright blue eyes were Tucker’s all the way, and they went wide. “Well, I’ll be goddamned. Hey. You’re real. Don. Look. Tucker’s friend is real.”
“Lover, Momma. He’s my lover.”
“There’s no making me up.” Calvin hugged Tucker’s arm and struck a little pose. He sure wasn’t shaking hands if they didn’t offer first. And how could a woman with pink hair and orange glasses think Tucker was the crazy one?