by Clancy Nacht
Sloan just nodded and tightened his arm around Upton, not trusting his voice. Maybe those wounds would never heal. Maybe he’d carry around his hurt, his sense of betrayal, forever. But for now, he was going to live well. He’d heard that was the best revenge. Madly in love with Upton or not, this was a whole new life. A good one, he hoped. One that would live up to Upton’s promises.
It didn’t take long to arrive at the dock where their yacht waited. They’d have luggage already on board, all their necessary things waiting for them. As awesome as Sloan felt traveling the world in a tuxedo like James Bond, he was about ready to take it off and spend the next day in his underwear lounging around like a bozo.
The town car parked, and the driver came around to let them out. Sloan climbed out first, then helped Upton out and let Upton lean on him as they walked down to the yacht. Sloan felt like he needed the support too, even though he wasn’t particularly sleepy.
The yacht was huge. He hadn’t realized boats even came in that size. The ones he’d seen before didn’t compare.
This was him, small-town Sloan, on a honeymoon in the French Riviera. That was a real thing that was happening.
The captain greeted them at the gangway, shaking their hands and welcoming them aboard in heavily accented English. Sloan responded in French, explaining Upton’s weariness and hugging him sideways as they were shown to their quarters.
The cabin was larger than Sloan had imagined. He’d expected a king-sized bed crowded in a room, and while it definitely dominated, there was space to move. The bathroom was marble, with a shower and a bath, about as nice as any hotel, and Sloan had seen a lot of those.
On the dresser was a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket and a dozen roses in a crystal vase. There was also a charcuterie and cheese board with crackers and a note of welcome and congratulations.
Upton immediately flopped onto the bed and toed off his shoes as he unbuttoned his shirt. “It feels so good to lie down.” Once his shirt was unbuttoned, Upton stretched. The plain white t-shirt beneath skimmed a more toned chest than Sloan remembered.
“You’ve been working out.” Sloan gestured at Upton’s newly muscular physique and then started stripping out of his tuxedo, shoes first and then his tie. “Imagine how exhausted you’d be if you hadn’t been.”
Sloan didn’t want to assume Upton’s newly fit body had anything to do with him. It seemed a lot more likely he’d been warned of the toll a wedding like theirs would take and wanted to be ready.
“Oh, yeah. Figured if I was going to be on vacation with my shirt off… plus I had extra time where I was theoretically planning our wedding.” Upton squirmed out of the tuxedo shirt; his jacket lay next to him where he’d dropped it.
After Sloan hung his tuxedo jacket in the closet—already stocked with their things—he helped himself to some delicious French cheese. Oh wow. Gah. He couldn’t hold back a little moan.
“That must be some real good cheese.” Upton raised a brow, pulled off his belt, and rolled it around his hand before setting it on the nightstand. He undid his pants and slipped them off, revealing dark boxer briefs underneath. Then he stood, folded the pants over his arm, and picked up his jacket. Carrying them to the closet, he then hung them up together.
Sloan waited for Upton to finish stowing his clothes and then held out a piece of cheese. “Here. Comte. It’s nutty and sweet and perfect. Like dessert.”
He fed Upton a bite, sliding the morsel past his lips and then gently rubbing his thumb over Upton’s mouth before withdrawing. As Upton chewed, Sloan removed his cummerbund and tuxedo shirt, stowing them away, and then took off his undershirt and pants. When he was stripped to boxer-briefs and socks, he returned to the bed and stretched out along one side. A weird knot formed in his stomach.
The boundary between fake romance and real marriage was caving in. Sloan didn’t know what either of them wanted, what they hoped to accomplish here beyond saving their own necks.
“Mm, yes, it is good. Nice of them to give us champagne, but I don’t think I could drink another drop right now.” Upton peered around the room until his gaze fixed on a mini fridge, and he pulled out two bottles of water. He returned to the bed, handed Sloan one, and set the other on the nightstand next to him.
Upton folded down the covers on his side of the bed and then slid in next to Sloan. “Surprised you noticed I was working out. I didn’t think much changed. Or that you’d… you know,“ Upton shrugged. “Notice, I guess.”
“You’ve always been a handsome man, Upton, but you’re looking... I mean, world-class. I’d get my gay card rescinded if I didn’t notice.” Sloan shifted closer and held out his arm across the pillows to invite Upton in for a snuggle.
“World-class, huh? You mean I won’t need to be Photoshopped all to hell to look decent in a magazine spread?” Upton scooted in and rested his head on Sloan’s shoulder. His splayed his hand on Sloan’s abdomen and traced the outline of Sloan’s musculature. “Means a lot to hear you say that. I know I’m not hideous, but working long hours in an office…and I’m not getting any younger.”
The last part made Upton sigh, and he flattened his hand on Sloan’s stomach. “Anyway, I should look good enough now for Instagram?”
“You look good enough for anybody, Upton. You always did.” Sloan kissed Upton’s temple and then traced his fingertips down Upton’s belly to his shirt hem. He toyed with it for a moment and then edged his fingers beneath it, touching skin, skating upward and rucking the shirt onto his wrist to bare more of Upton to his view.
Then he stopped, just like that, and asked softly, “Can I take off your shirt?”
Upton’s cheeks reddened, but he nodded and sat up as Sloan lifted the cotton over his head. Looking down at his own body, Upton smiled shyly. “Thank you for saying that. I think most people have been more attracted to my name than me.” Upton shrugged and then leaned in and brushed their lips together.
Sloan tensed, caught off-guard by the sudden affection and the way their bare skin pressed together. Then he smiled and wound his fingers into Upton’s soft hair, pulling him down and kissing him lazily, trying to hold onto the idea Upton needed rest.
And to remind himself that this wasn’t the great moment for sex that his cock was arguing it was.
Then he drew Upton’s head away and gazed into his eyes. “You need to brush your teeth before you sleep? We’ll start fresh tomorrow as married men, huh?”
“Oh, um. Yes.” Upton covered his mouth as if he believed that Sloan was pushing him away because his breath was bad. “Sorry.”
If Upton was tired, his cock wasn’t. It pressed hard against Sloan’s hip in physical response to their closeness before Upton wiggled away and slipped into the bathroom, body lit up with a blush.
“Hey, no,” Sloan called after him, getting out of bed and trailing behind Upton. “Your breath is fine. You tasted like delicious cheese for that entire kiss, I swear to god.” He stepped in behind Upton where he stood at the counter, reached around him to rest his hands on either side of the sink to box him in, and nosed at his nape affectionately. “Just didn’t know what your nighttime rituals were. Guess we gotta get used to each other’s ways now, huh? You think I keep this mug looking so pristine without nightly moisturizing?”
Sloan hooked his chin over Upton’s shoulder and looked into his eyes in the mirror, studying him intently. “Don’t be embarrassed with me, all right? We’re married. We’re going to share a bathroom. Everybody has morning breath. Everybody poops. It’s okay to be human, Upton, I swear, regardless of what Candice or the media have inculcated you with.”
“Mom didn’t… I mean, she never… She wants me to be aware of what I project so that I’m in charge of my image. I just thought my breath had… I only meant to give you a quick peck, and then it…” Upton seemed panicky, which was kind of weirdly cute with his mouth full of toothpaste. He spit it out and then rinsed his mouth. “I wasn’t sure with the cheese and the old champagne, what my breath
was like. I usually do brush my teeth and wash my face. I thought maybe you also thought I should um… “
Upton looked down at crotch. His erection had waned. “Take care of things. I was going to shut the door.”
“No, you’re... It’s fine. I wasn’t offended or... You’re good, all right? We’re good.” Sloan considered telling Upton that sex had been on his mind too, but he thought better of it. Now wasn’t the time. He sighed, smiled at Upton in the mirror, and then disengaged, stepping away. “Go ahead and get cleaned up. Do what you need to do. I’ll take my turn when you’re done. Okay?”
“Okay. I think I’ll, um, take a shower.” Upton gave Sloan a slightly mournful look in the mirror, then turned and shut the door behind Sloan after he’d exited.
Had he been hoping for more on their wedding night? It seemed unlikely Upton had expected anything, but then, after the buzzed kissing and groping, maybe their wires got crossed.
This was so different than the unassailable public Upton. Sloan remembered a viral video of Upton on a news program, debating a megachurch’s evangelical preacher. Fire had danced behind Upton’s eyes as he took the barbs thrown and hurled back pointed comments.
It was probably easier to blow them off when they came from someone Upton didn’t respect, or who didn’t respect Upton. He had to have shut down some part of himself to deal with the life he led, but if he was this easy for Sloan to wound….
Sloan’s head hurt. Did he want the responsibility of Upton being this close to him? This easily hurt? Sloan had never been the kind of guy who dealt well with such things, too trained by his parents to suppress his feelings to know what to do when someone else’s made an appearance.
Could Upton tell how hard Sloan was trying? That he was bulling past his own instinctive drive to pull away, to put distance between them? That he was trying to give Upton the affection he seemed to need so badly?
Or was Sloan’s apparent lack of polish and foresight tanking everything good under a tidal wave of fuckups?
He brooded and tried not to think of Upton in the shower jerking off. Upton leaner and fitter, with those big blue eyes and rivulets of glistening water trickling over his pale skin in a marble shower.
Fuck.
Half-hard and beyond frustrated, Sloan sat on the edge of his side of the bed, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. He stayed just like that, mulling over the evening, until he heard the bathroom door open. Then he froze, all but holding his breath, and waited for whatever came next.
Upton emerged in a white robe, hair wet, skin red, though whether because of the heat of the shower or being embarrassed, it was difficult to discern. He gave a shy smile and gestured to the bathroom. “All yours.”
He stopped and tilted his head at Sloan’s posture. “Everything all right?”
Sloan nodded and summoned a smile for Upton. “Peachy keen, honey. Just been a real long day, hasn’t it?” He stood, hyperaware of the half-hearted erection distending his shorts, and crossed the intervening space. Standing in front of Upton, Sloan slid his hands up onto his shoulders, gripping him by the shawl collar of his robe, and pulled him in for a slow, searching kiss, savoring the mint of his mouth, the heat radiating from his freshly scrubbed skin.
Then he stepped away and brushed past into the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. He glanced back at Upton and smiled faintly. “I’ll be out soon, little spoon. Think you’ll still be awake?”
“If you want me to be. I can read until you get out. It was nice to fall asleep together, wasn’t it?” Upton looked so hopeful, but what was he hoping for?
Perhaps Sloan was thinking too hard. Upton had said he was tired, and he’d probably meant it; he’d said he liked the kissing, and that seemed to be true, too. If he’d jerked off in the shower, he probably wasn’t looking for sex now, if he ever was. Maybe Sloan’s sexual preoccupation was projecting things onto Upton that he didn’t feel.
Upton turned to the dresser, and Sloan almost dreaded that Upton might pull out that dowdy old pair of silk pajamas. But he didn’t; he selected a pair of boxer briefs and turned around to slip out of his robe. It dropped to the floor, revealing his pert, flexing ass as he bent down to retrieve it.
Were it anyone else, Sloan might’ve thought he was trying to be seductive, but Upton blushed and hurriedly pulled on his boxer briefs. “So, um, do you want me to stay awake?”
Sloan caught himself licking his lips and took a deep, slow breath. “Yeah, if that’s all right. Set the right tone for the rest of our marriage, right? Get started on the right foot, together.”
Then Sloan nodded, turned, and escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Inside, he stripped and tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper. The luxury struck him anew, pristine and gleaming, and he tried to focus on the good. His new life was a sweet deal, even if the alternative hadn’t been a freaked-out Senator ordering his death. He could do this, 110%.
He brushed his teeth thoughtfully, studying his face in the mirror, marveling that the guy he saw was married now not just to a congressman but into a political dynasty with billions behind their famous name. Somehow, when he was hanging out with Upton, it was so easy to forget. The man himself was a pretty blond, dorky as hell, awkward at the best of times, nothing like the sharp-tongued, sharp-witted activist on TV.
The real thing was turning out to be much shockingly attractive.
He sighed, rinsed his mouth, and climbed into the shower. Just standing there where Upton had probably been jerking off a few minutes before had his cock stiffening past half-mast, begging for the same consideration. Then, thinking about curling up behind Upton, their bodies nestled together all night, Sloan realized it was a necessity.
After washing his hair and face and performing a cursory scrubbing of his armpits and groin, Sloan closed his eyes, leaned against the water-warmed marble, and took his cock in hand. It leaped just at that simple touch, so long denied that it all but begged for release.
Would Upton’s be like that? Flushed pink and dripping, hungry for contact, pulsing in Sloan’s palm as he stroked it.
Yeah, Sloan could feel it. It was so close, right there in the front of his imagination, bigger than life. Sinking his teeth into his lip, he jerked himself under the pounding spray and thought of Upton bent over, his ass defined now in a way it hadn’t been before, even rounder and more inviting. That dark cleft, the softness of the tender opening Sloan knew too well it hid.
God, he wanted to be inside him again, on his own terms this time, for his own pleasure. Grasping himself roughly, he shuddered and fucked his fist, imagining that little bud opening at the pressure of his head, giving way and letting him inside. The heat of him, the tightness, the brilliant blush sweeping down from Upton’s face to turn his porcelain back rosy to the waist. He imagined him bound, wrists tied at the small of his back, handsome face pressed into the pillow, lush mouth gasping for breath as Sloan forced the air from his body with every demanding thrust.
Upton whimpering, begging, his cock drooling onto Sloan’s fingers as he toyed with him, bringing him to the edge and stopping. Taking him brutally, making him feel it, making him howl and writhe.
Sloan’s climax sideswiped him, leaving his hips jerking into the air, cock pumping ribbons of spunk into the shower spray as he struggled to stay upright. Bliss washed through him, chased by relief, and Sloan exhaled heavily as he turned to press his forehead to the stone.
Good god.
Then he pulled himself together, turned off the water, and bundled himself into a bathrobe. He carefully applied moisturizer under his eyes and to his face, though it probably mattered a hell of a lot less now he didn’t need to look young forever to keep his clientele.
That little fantasy, he’d just pretend he’d never had it. No big deal.
When he finally caught his breath and could project nonchalance, Sloan opened the door. “Sorry I took so long,” he said with a little smile. “Thanks for waiting up.”
Up
ton smiled and closed the cover on his Kindle. He set it on the nightstand, which pushed his belt along to the edge. Sloan eyed it a moment, remembering how he’d wrapped his belt around Upton’s throat just a couple of months ago. Was the belt there as a message? Or was it just a convenient place to…
It didn’t matter. Sloan was overthinking everything. He dressed quickly, not dawdling as he pulled on clean shorts and hung up his robe. Then he turned off the light.
Upton rolled on his side and smiled over his shoulder as Sloan sank in behind him. “I don’t mind. It’s nice falling asleep with you. Like you said, a good way to set the tone.”
“Don’t imagine we’ll have as many chances for it as we might like, life being what it is.” Sloan slid into the center of the bed to spoon behind Upton, tucking one arm under Upton’s head and wrapping the other around his middle. He inhaled the clean scent of Upton’s damp hair and nuzzled in a little further, burying his face in the soft strands. “Mm, just like this.”
He rubbed his foot against Upton’s calf and then insinuated his leg between Upton’s, hooking them together thoroughly. “No, like this. Now, let’s breathe deep, huh? Think about a happy place?”
Upton’s breath caught and then he melted back against Sloan. He twined their fingers. “This is a pretty happy place right now. Safe in a yacht, rocked gently by the water with nothing but sunbathing, movie watching, and eating gourmet meals to worry about for the next week. After a day of exceeding luxury and well-wishes, cuddled up with someone who only wants the best for you. That’s pretty happy. Maybe not perfect, but pretty happy.”
“Yeah, it is, honey.” Sloan smiled into Upton’s nape and took a deep breath. “Never thought I’d have this, not if I worked and saved and sacrificed for years. Fate’s kind of funny that way.”