“Babe, do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No. Let’s do that. I need the distraction.”
I debated pushing Lucas to talk, but he wasn’t going to be okay until his parents called. Joann had shared with me that Lucas was always anxious when they traveled, reminding me that Lucas had been orphaned once, so I should never suggest his fear for their safety was irrational. The best I could do was distract him.
Lucas and I ate then wandered aimlessly, weaving in and out of the high-end shops, stopping to say hello to people in town for the awards ceremony from other studios. The real distraction came from the fans. Tommy took over each time someone approached for a picture or autograph, momentarily dulling his anxiety.
“We should head back now,” Lucas said, glancing at his phone again to check the time. We still had forty minutes, but I nodded.
The phone rang at six sharp and Lucas’ relief was palpable. I excused myself so he could talk to his parents in private. I wandered into Cole and his plus one at the craps table, a man I suspected was the Italian super-fan, based on his heavily accented English and a fat stack of chips. Cole preened like a peacock under his companion’s over-the-top adoration, and I saw him through Lucas’ eyes—not as an oversexed, vapid twink, but as a slightly-damaged, beautiful soul finally getting his due.
Lucas was waiting for me when I returned to the room. His smile delivered the all-clear I was praying for. “You good?” I asked.
“Yes.” He smiled, and I watched the façade crumble. “My mom has a sister.” His tone revealed a potpourri of emotions. I rushed to him and held him when tears breeched his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.
“Baby, oh baby.” I rocked him, even as he insisted they were happy tears.
He pulled away from me and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “Jesus. I can’t stop.” He laughed, red-splotchy patches covering his wet neck and cheeks.
“Tell me what your mom said.”
Lucas slowly exhaled and wiped away the teardrops clinging to his face. “She met her Aunt Mai and her grandparents, who are still alive. Her mother died in childbirth, which her parents knew when they adopted her, but her birth mother had apparently had another child a few years before her. Her sister’s birth father was a US service member who’d abandoned them after the war or died, no one could say for sure. Her mother left that child with an infertile cousin to raise. Anyway, they live in a very rural area, and my mom’s trying to arrange a chance to meet her.”
“Wow. That’s crazy. How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know. I’m happy for her, of course. It’s pretty incredible if you think about it.” The tears started again, but at least he was smiling.
I nodded and yanked him into my chest. Lucas’ sense of well-being was second only to his physical safety in my book. My inability to understand the full breadth of his experience as an adoptee left me powerless. I wouldn’t placate him pretending otherwise, so I did the one thing I knew how to do—I listened to him. He told me stories that broke my heart, about a young kid who used to hide in a closet and scream for his mother, who couldn’t enter a crowded place without seeking out persons who most resembled them.
While Lucas talked, I conjured up an image. We were in a hospital. Kayla was in a bed, sweaty and exhausted. She handed me a swaddled baby in a blue blanket and, in turn, I passed Lucas his son. The dream was silly. Kayla was already forty-one. I doubted she’d be able to carry Lucas’ child, even if she agreed to it. We’d get a surrogate—someone with no ties to us. I didn’t care what it cost. I wanted it for him, more than the lake house or the degree. Giving Lucas a biological child became my third, and most important, non-negotiable dream.
Lucas and I ordered a shitload of calorie-ridden foods and spent the evening in our hotel room watching old movies. Well, old for Lucas. I was hard-pressed to put Sixteen Candles in the same category as Casablanca. Tommy was nowhere to be found, as Lucas snuggled against me and soaked up all the love and attention I could muster until we both fell fast asleep.
The next thing I remember was Lucas shaking me. “Wake up, baby.” He was out of bed, wearing workout clothes, his collar wet with perspiration. It took me a few seconds to realize it was morning.
“How long have you been up?”
“A while.” Lucas opened the curtain to reveal it was at least mid-morning. “Thought you could use the extra sleep. You’ve been so restless the last few nights. Did you sleep well?”
I nodded since it was true. Not knowing how to help Lucas had given me a few sleepless nights. Now that we had talked and I understood what all he was processing, I was drained, but Lucas was rearing to go.
“You going to get up?” he asked.
I tugged the pillow over my head as my response and listened to Lucas’ mellifluous humming while he went about his morning routine.
“I’m getting naked,” Lucas hollered.
A few minutes later, he added, “My cock is out and I’m stroking it.”
The shower door opened and closed. Lucas shouted, “Baby, my dick is rock hard. I’m gonna get all soapy and play with my hole.”
I sank into the bed and waited him out, stroking myself in anticipation.
A few seconds later, Lucas whined, “Babe, get in here and fuck me.”
I chuckled. “You come here and ride my dick.”
“Babe—” Lucas begged.
The needy quality of his voice almost ended me. I closed my eyes and pictured him—fingers sliding in and out of his slicked hole. I would be crazy to give in. The day was already going to be long, and he’d be kinky as fuck after the awards ceremony. I needed to pace myself, and that meant starting the day with lazy comfy bed sex, not the back-bending, knee-punishing feat of gymnastics Lucas’ shower fuck would involve. That man’s imagination would be the death of me.
“Kyle!” Lucas stomped to get my attention. Drops of water listed from his hair down his naked torso before disappearing onto the tented towel wrapped around his waist.
“What?”
“I did abs today.” Two fingers traced along the ridges of his stomach, up his chest and squeezed his nipple. He bit his lower lip between his teeth and waited for me to respond.
Damn it. “Take pity on me. I’m an old man.”
Lucas’ tossed his head back and he fought to stop laughing. His smile faded in an unsuccessful attempt to be seductive. “Fuck me,” he said and yanked the covers off the bed. He knee-walked up the mattress until he straddled my waist. I unwrapped the towel like a present. His cock, semi-hard, flopped onto my stomach. I spat on my hand and covered his dick with my palm, pressing firmly. A primal groan fell from Lucas’ lips, and his hips flicked forward. I reached up to cup his neck, hauling him down for a kiss as the velvety rod slid over my stomach.
Lucas danced his tongue with mine in between whispered endearments. In full control, he lifted so I could watch his body conduct an erotic symphony. Every moan dripped with need. Every feather light kiss tantalized and teased. He ground his hips on my lap in their own titillating ballet. His quickening breath warmed my skin, leaving goosebumps behind as it cooled.
Slippery fluid spilled onto my belly, signaling a new stage of arousal. Lucas stared down at me, kiss-swollen lips parted and eyes heated enough to melt steel. Reaching behind him, he grabbed my cock and guided it to his hole, nudging the tip and using his thumb on the sensitive spot under the crown. I arched into his touch. “Put it in,” I moaned, craving the tight heat of his body.
Lucas reached for the nightstand. Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and squeezed it tight to still him. I wiped up his pre-cum, added spit and slicked my cock. “I said, put it in, boy.”
Black pupils eclipsed the blue of his eyes, and he relaxed his jaw. I let go of his wrist and held the base of my cock. The heat of his passage clenched around me and warmth slowly spread through my body as he seated himself. “Good boy,” I said and splayed a hand on his abs to keep him upright and still while he waited. He clenc
hed his muscles, threw his head back and begged me to move.
His cock lifted from my belly, defying gravity. “Ride me slow,” I commanded. Lucas lifted and lowered inch-by-inch and simultaneously moved his hips in tight circles. The pleasure flowed in and out, up and down, and pinprick tingles tickled my skin.
“Like that, Daddy?” Lucas asked, then gradually upped the tempo of his movements and opened his mouth like a baby bird to suck on my fingers.
“Yes, baby.” I groaned and closed my eyes. “Just like that.” He rode me at a pace meant to prolong our pleasure, taking our time to experience every sensation condoms had robbed us of us.
“Watch me.” Lucas tilted my chin to the closet to our left. The mirrored doors provided a phenomenal view of Lucas’ backside. He narrated our love-making in extravagant detail.
Lust drunk, I held his hips and bucked hard. “Like that,” Lucas cried, offering his approval with a breathless, curse-filled prayer. I pressed my back into the mattress and bent my knees, harnessing all the leverage I could muster to meet his pleas for harder and faster. Strobe lights flashed before my eyes, momentarily blinding me, and concentrated the sensations into the intense, almost painful constriction of his muscles around me.
“I’m coming, Kyle. Oh, God. Don’t Stop. Breed me. Fill me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” Lucas tore the orgasm out of me. I convulsed in a full-body spasm that threatened to levitate us right off the bed. His sweaty body collapsed against me, reducing the capacity of my already-burning lungs to fill. I didn’t care. I could drown in his body and die a happy man.
Delirious, he rolled off me and landed ungracefully with his legs tangled with mine. “Jesus H. Christ,” Lucas laughed and slapped a heavy-hand on my chest. “You are my absolute favorite workout.”
“You’re going to kill me one day.”
Lucas grinned. “You don’t know the half of it. Now that the condoms have come off, we are going to relive every kinky, crazy thing we’ve ever done with an alternate, messier ending.”
I couldn’t wait.
* * * *
Lucas and I cleaned up and headed out to the Strip, bypassing the pool for the stellar people-watching in the casinos. I got to know a few more Goldenboys and surprised myself with how okay I was running around with Lucas’ friends. It helped that two of the other models had brought their non-porn boyfriends.
The evening’s agenda started with pre-gaming in Case and Robert’s suite. Lucas eased his transformation into Tommy with vodka. Being the wise adult who had learned his lesson, I drank water—until I realized I was the only sober person in a room crammed full of drunk porn stars twenty years my junior. Then, I drank bourbon. Best. Decision. Ever.
We made our way to the ballroom for the awards ceremony. The Goldenboys team was seated at two round eight-person tables. I tugged at my necktie and wondered, not for the first time, how my life had led me to a room full of adult entertainers. “You okay, baby?” Lucas placed a hand on my arm and leaned into me. Oh, yeah—Lucas.
Dinner was served, and the drinks were flowing. I shook hands with men whose names I would never remember with bodies that didn’t seem real. It was a dreamlike world with a cult-like following. Lucas had slipped into his Tommy persona as he worked the room with the same confidence that’d convinced me to follow him to that study room.
The awards were handed out. Cole was the first winner from the table, accepting his award with a touching speech about self-acceptance. His Italian lover—Giacomo or Giuseppe, I couldn’t remember—had given a prolonged standing ovation and produced a Cartier box upon Cole’s return to the table.
The scene Lucas had filmed over the summer did not win in the ‘Best Group Scene’ category nor did any of the Goldenboys take honors for ‘Best Top’, ‘Fan Favorite’ or ‘Best Newcomer’. After a long stretch of losses, Lucas had focused the full weight of Tommy’s exhibitionist-loving sexual energy on me. I hadn’t had to work so hard to keep an erection under control in public since high school.
“Hey, Tommy. This is you.” Case nudged Lucas as the award for ‘Best Performer’ was announced.
I swatted his hand from my fly. “Behave yourself.” His mischievous smile told me he was absolutely not planning to obey. I placed a palm on his thigh, squeezed as hard as I could and whispered, “Don’t think because everyone is calling you Tommy tonight that Daddy won’t spank Lucas over his knee right here.”
There. Right there. That was my smile.
“And the winner for best performer in an adult feature is…”
“Tommy Bruiser,” the announcers shouted. The entire ballroom erupted with applause. I shot up from the table like Lucas had won an Oscar and hugged him. We shared a brief kiss before Robert swept him into a hug and his friends surrounded him.
He weaved his way to the front, taking the steps to the stage two at a time. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him—under the lights, fed with attention, he blossomed in front of me. I’d stopped trying to figure it out. Perhaps some hole in Lucas’ heart was filled by all of it—the semi-fame, the adoration, the porn. Perhaps it indeed was altruistic. It didn’t matter anymore, not when the first thing he did was blow me a kiss in front of a room full of good-looking men. My heart burst with pride and love, and that was before Lucas made his speech.
“Thank you so much,” Lucas gushed and admired the award while the audience applauded. “Thank you. I want to say a few things. First, thanks to Case and Robert. Working for Goldenboys has been an amazing time. You treat me like family, and I love you both. You’re a fucking inspiration.”
The Goldenboys tables erupted into renewed applause for their bosses.
“So much has happened this year. I’ve worked with some wonderful, sexy men, some of whom let me turn their asses bright red. So thanks for that, boys.” The audience laughed, and Lucas flashed a brilliant, toothy smile.
“I got into porn because I wanted to make a difference for all the boys like me, for anyone who thought they were weird or different. I wanted to show them how sexy and good their bodies can feel.
“When I started, winning something like this”—he gawked at the trophy—“seemed too good to be true. But now? Now it’s time for me to say goodbye to Tommy Bruiser.”
The room gasped and Lucas smiled. My smile…aimed right at me. I studied Case, who nodded his confirmation and offered me a toast.
“Tonight, I’m happy to announce my formal retirement as a performer. I’ll still be at Goldenboys, working with our awesome marketing team. But there’s only one man I want to make feel sexy now, and I’m gonna devote all my energy to making him feel all the pleasure I can for the rest of our lives if he’ll let me. I love you, Kyle. You are my rock, my lover, my best friend—and my daddy when I can get you drunk enough. Thank you all for your support. This is truly the best way to end this remarkable ride. Thank you again. Have a great night.”
Lucas floated back to me, flushed red from the lights of the stage. I stood, dumbfounded and so damn happy. He was it for me. This was it. Lucas was the one. I wished I had a damn ring.
“What’d you think of my speech?” Lucas asked shyly.
“I think… I think I’m speechless,” I said. The table cracked up, and I remembered we had an audience. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I love it, but I’m done now. I’ll stay in the industry. I couldn’t think of anything better to get you for your birthday.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to. I want to give you everything, Kyle. I’d do anything for you.”
That Las Vegas ballroom could have burned to the ground and Lucas and I wouldn’t have noticed. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and he couldn’t stop looking at me. With just a smile, we said everything that could ever be said. We managed to control ourselves through the last award, which was awarded to Goldenboys as a studio and was accepted by Robert and Case.
Despite the full agenda of after-parties, some of which contained public fucking as the featured ente
rtainment, Robert took us aside and told us plainly we should, “get a damn room.”
Lucas agreed it was an excellent idea. The next time we left our room was to catch our flight home.
Chapter Nineteen
The nuptials of Tracey Knowles and Patrick Anderson occurred on a blustery March afternoon roughly a year after I’d met Lucas. The bride, dressed in a figure-skimming floral lace gown, had no reason to worry about the attention being stolen from her. Her hair was styled in an asymmetrical loose updo, secured with a sparkly clip, and her makeup was flawless.
I caught Kayla’s attention as she fluffed Tracey’s veil outside the small, Catholic church and smiled encouragement. I knew her brave soldier look well. She struggled to keep her wrap positioned and hold her bouquet. Kayla rarely wore any sleeveless tops. She hated her biceps, and the rose-colored knee-length dress did her strawberry-blonde hair and freckled, pale white skin no favors.
When the processional music started playing, Simon and I followed instructions to escort Kayla and Patrick’s grandmother, followed by Tracey’s mother then Esther and Mitch. Once the family members were seated, Simon and I took our places next to Matt and Patrick.
I stood at the front, glanced around at the elaborate flower arrangements and found my center. Lucas sat in the third row, behind Patrick and Kayla’s family. He wore the same pink shirt he’d worn to their engagement party, under a navy slim-fit suit Joann had purchased for him in Vietnam and given to him for Christmas. The pink and navy patterned tie was borrowed from my limited collection. I could personally attest that in addition to looking remarkable around Lucas’ neck, the tie looked phenomenal bound around his eyes.
Lucas noticed me staring. He glanced down at his tie and fingered it suggestively and raised an eyebrow. He tucked his lip between his teeth.
Matt elbowed me and whispered, “Would you quit with the eye-fucking already?”
I cleared my throat, straightened my spine and refocused my attention to the bridesmaids ambling down the aisle. When Kayla appeared in the doorway, she met my gaze. I winked at her, and she flashed her brilliant white smile. I couldn’t understand what about Patrick’s marriage had her racked with angst, but I suspected it threw her own choices into focus. Like Lucas, Kayla always had marched to the beat of her own drum.
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