by Jet Mykles
Lance grabbed Gordon’s wrists to stop the shaking. “Quit that.”
“You’re supposed to have moved the fuck on!” Gordon tipped his head so he was glaring through his lashes at Lance. He opened his hands to let Lance’s shirt fall back into place, but his fingers remained up and splayed for a moment before he clamped his palms on either side of Lance’s head. “You never, ever do what I want you to do.”
Lance kept his hold on Gordon’s wrists but lightened his grip. What was this about? Where had this come from? Gordon had been as cool as usual earlier tonight. “What do you want me to do?”
Gordon’s eyes shuttered until Lance could only see sparks of green beneath heavy black lashes. His focus dropped to Lance’s mouth. “I want you to go on with your life.” His fingertips dug into Lance’s scalp. “I want you to fuck someone so I…” Another little shake. His voice had gone low and husky. “I don’t want you to wait for me.”
So he what? Lance badly wanted to hear the end of that aborted sentence. He let his palms slide down Gordon’s forearms. “I’m not waiting for you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am I?” He was taking advantage, he knew. Gordon wasn’t thinking straight. But the contact, however hostile, had fired Lance’s blood. He was already hard, his cock straining for Gordon.
“You are.” Gordon tipped Lance’s face up a little, still gazing at his lips. “Stop it.”
Lance parted his lips, then deliberately licked them. “Make me.”
Gordon took his mouth with punishing force, and Lance let it happen, open for the tongue that invaded. He grabbed hold of Gordon’s waist to yank him closer. The fingers digging into his scalp slipped back into Lance’s hair, yanking his head to tip it to the angle Gordon wanted. Teeth clashed. Lance barely registered the taste of blood from a cut lip.
Just as roughly as he’d started, Gordon pulled back. But not too far. He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead to Lance’s chin. “Fuck.”
Lance squeezed his ass, not sure when his hands had found home. “Yes.”
“No.”
He palmed Gordon’s ass, squeezing through the thin cotton of his slacks. Lance tried twisting his head, fighting to regain their kiss. “God, yes.”
“Fuck.” Gordon’s fingers slid down his neck to dig into the meat of his shoulders. “I don’t want you.”
Lance kissed his temple, ducked his head closer to Gordon’s mouth. “I want you.”
“I’m not doing this.”
He nibbled at the corner of Gordon’s mouth, lapped at the crease between his lips. “Do it.”
Something between a growl and a moan burbled in Gordon’s throat. Lance tipped his head and managed to seal their lips again. The kiss this time was one-sided, him pushing, Gordon just accepting. Lance stepped closer, embracing the body he needed so much. “Kiss me,” he demanded, biting at Gordon’s lips.
A weaker version of the growl vibrated in Gordon’s mouth. His head fell to the right, his mouth opened, and the kiss grew wings. Lance’s hands found Gordon’s ass again, fingertips purposefully teasing the crease between cheeks. Gordon sighed and wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, pressing closer. The soft slacks did nothing to contain the arousal pressed against Lance’s.
“Shit.” Gordon drew his head back, face up. Lance dipped his head to bite the strong cord of Gordon’s neck. “Lance.” That sound, that gorgeous sound Gordon made when he was on the way to being too far gone… Lance brought a hand around to squeeze Gordon’s cock. “God, fuck, Lance.”
Lance maneuvered them around so he could push Gordon onto the bed. The man sat without a fight. Lance knelt between his knees and grabbed a foot to relieve him of shoes and socks, during which his mind raced. Did he even have a condom or lube around? Yeah, there was some in his suitcase, the fruit of some hope that his libido would wake up again.
He got the second shoe and sock off just as Gordon wrestled off his dress shirt. Anxious hands caught Lance’s shoulders and pulled him into another desperate kiss. “Fuck me,” he demanded, lips against Lance’s. He tugged Lance’s sweats down to his knees, dragging his briefs with them. “God.” A strong grip circled Lance’s cock and gave it a gorgeous pull.
Lance hissed and caught Gordon’s wrist. “Careful. Been too long. I’ll come too soon.”
Gordon bit at his jaw. “Then do me. Now.”
They broke apart, Lance stumbling toward his suitcase, Gordon standing so he could be rid of his pants. Lance managed to struggle out of his sweats before reaching the case, then miraculously found the condom and a small bottle of lube in an easy pocket of his luggage. He met Gordon on the mattress and had no time to marvel at the perfection of Gordon’s physique. He had to get inside that body before Gordon took it away again. The most beautiful man in the world was on his knees, ass toward Lance, with his hand busy on his cock. Lance rolled on the condom in record time and took his place behind Gordon as he popped open the lube.
“Now.” Gordon glared over his shoulder. “Goddamn it.”
Lance poured lube into his palm and slathered it over his sheathed cock. He rubbed the wet tip against Gordon’s little pink pucker, knowing he should probably go slower but fully unable to do so. He pushed in, only managing to slow a little as Gordon hissed and arched his back. Trusting Gordon to throw him if it really was too much, he pressed steadily inward. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the flush of agonizing pleasure that washed through his veins. He was going to come, dammit it, and he wasn’t even halfway in! Panting, he dug the fingers of his free hand into Gordon’s side and kept a death grip at the base of his cock to hold it in. Gordon might not have noticed his hesitation, because he pushed back, forcing more of Lance’s cock into his impossibly tight little hole.
“Fuck.” Lance curled forward until his forehead met the back of Gordon’s shoulder.
Gordon’s tiny growls of pleasure were too damn familiar, even after all this time. The way he rolled his hips was perfect. Lance would have been transported back in time, back to when this was normal, if it weren’t for the very real fear that he was about to lose it.
“I…can’t…”
Gordon reached back to yank at Lance’s loose hair. “Don’t you fucking dare come.” He shoved back, his ass thumping against Lance’s fist. “Fuck me.”
Could he do anything else? Grinding his teeth, Lance pulled back and shoved forward. He struggled with anything he could think of not to come. That Gordon kept pulling his hair helped, the small pain taking off some of the edge. When Gordon started to moan for real and lose himself in the moment, Lance let go his prick, grabbed Gordon’s hips, and started thrusting. With any luck, Gordon’s desperation matched his and he’d come soon.
“Godshitfuckdamngod…” Gordon gripped the pillow beneath his head, face buried in it. “More, damn you, more!”
Lance’s hips snapped, his thighs strained. He had no ability for finesse, just mindless pounding. He draped himself over Gordon’s back, crushing the man into the mattress, and let as much skin as possible rub between them as he rocked.
“Ah!” Oh yes, glorious sound from Gordon. That meant he was close. Lance picked up the pace, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Ah fuck!” Gordon’s hands punished the pillow as a flush started down his neck and back. “Ahhhh!” He shuddered, and Lance’s heart soared. Gordon was coming, his ass clenching Lance’s cock.
He’d made it! Triumph shattered Lance’s control. He was coming before he could even think to let himself do so. Colors crashed about him in waves as marvelous phantasms exploded just outside his ears.
Out of practice after not having had sex with another person in so long, Lance barely managed to roll off Gordon’s back. His thighs shook. His blood sang. Yes! That was why he could barely think about being with anyone else. What could possibly compare to that? Even quick and rough, it was the best sex he’d had since he’d last been with Gordon. Lying on his side with his head pillowed on his arm, he forced his eyes to remain open so
he could watch the other man. Was this it? Was the drought over?
Once Gordon caught his breath, he rolled…away from Lance to the edge of the bed. He sat up, back to Lance, and didn’t move for a few moments.
“This,” he finally said, turning his head so Lance could see his profile, “was a mistake.”
Although he’d hoped for better, Lance had expected as much. Tamping down anger, he stared at Gordon’s back, at the marks his digging fingers had left behind. “Why?”
Gordon stood, avoiding eye contact as he stepped into his underwear and slacks. “It was a mistake.”
“I don’t think so.”
Looking around, Gordon bent to pick up his shirt off the foot of the bed. “Think what you want to think.”
Irritated, Lance pushed up to sit. “I think we just fucked our brains out. I think you came to me.”
Buttoning his shirt, Gordon shook his head. “Yes.”
“So why did you come here? Feeling horny?”
“That.”
Lance thought he might say more, but he didn’t.
Lance launched himself at Gordon and managed to catch his wrist. Lance was still naked, wet with sweat, with a condom drying on his dick, and he wanted Gordon to see it. “Fuck this. You’re gonna stay and talk to me.”
Caught off guard, Gordon glared at Lance’s hand, then at his face. “Talk? You don’t talk.”
“I’m trying something new. Tell me what’s going on. You owe me that.”
Gordon bristled at the word owe. “I told you. Nothing. This is not your second chance.”
Lance’s thoughts tried to keep up with the words. “Why not?”
Gordon pulled away. “We’re not doing this.”
“It doesn’t have to be more than just sex.”
Gordon’s laugh was sharp and cruel as he sat on the chair by the table to put on his shoes and socks. “Oh, it’s more than just sex.”
Was it bad that Lance took heart in that? “What is it, then?”
After firmly tying his shoe, Gordon finally looked up. “I don’t trust you.”
“Okay. Let me prove—”
“No.” He stood and snatched up his jacket. “You needed to get laid. Fine. So did I. I wanted it to be bad. It wasn’t.” The cold look in his eyes stalled Lance’s protests. “But I’m not letting you take over my life again.”
“What?”
“When I was with you, all I thought about was you. I wanted you to fucking shine. I tried everything I could to help you do that, but you pushed back at me every time.”
“I didn’t—”
“Every. Time.” Gordon pointed. “You needed to get away from Shelby, and you fucking refused to listen to me.”
Taken aback, Lance actually retreated a step. “That was my job. I couldn’t—”
“Look at what you have now. The Knights. That’s what I was working for.
“I know. But—”
Gordon was on a roll. “You should have trusted me. But you never trusted me.” He turned and headed for the door. “And I just can’t trust you.”
“Gordon, wait.”
“No. I’m not falling into the trap of loving you again.” He shook his head, hand on the doorknob. “Not again.”
Unable to think of a comeback, Lance stared at the door long after it shut behind Gordon. Only the fact that the air-conditioning was blowing on his naked skin got him moving into the bathroom. He cleaned up with angry, jerky movements, Gordon’s words repeating in his head. Trust. Don’t trust. Can’t trust. What the hell?
Debating with himself, using an occasional mumble for emphasis, Lance paced his hotel room until fatigue took over. Irritated, he crawled into bed and turned off the light, aware he had a ten o’clock call the next morning and really should get some sleep. But his mind kept turning over the problem. It was well after two in the morning before his exhausted brain finally shut down.
Chapter Twenty
Past, November
Lance’s mother took a turn for the worse the day before Thanksgiving. His sister called, and although it wasn’t what he wanted to do, he knew it was right to get on a plane to Detroit. So he did. Gordon and Noble wanted to come with him, but he forbade them both.
“I’m fine,” he told them. “I’ll be better off on my own.” Although his sister knew he was now pretty much gay, she’d yet to really accept it. He didn’t need to bring his boyfriend into this particular scene.
The three of them stood outside in the cold next to the Lincoln that would take him to the airport. One of Shelby’s drivers had already put his bag in the trunk and was waiting in the driver’s seat.
“This is going to be confusing enough.” Lance stared at the manicured row of snow-covered pines that lined the drive toward the edge of the estate. He felt strangely numb and kept wondering how long it would last. “It’ll be easier if it’s just me.”
Noble caught him up in a fierce hug. “You call,” he insisted, voice gruff with emotion. He’d cried more than Lance. It turned out Noble didn’t take impending death well at all.
Lance patted his back. “You bet.”
Noble let him go, and Gordon stepped close to wind arms around him in a gentler but no less heartfelt hug. “I love you,” he whispered into Lance’s ear.
That filled Lance with more emotion than the news from this morning. He squeezed Gordon tighter, trying to keep down the swell, sure if he started feeling, it would make this trip unbearable. “Love you too.”
Their kiss was quick, and then Gordon let him go. Gordon had been his rock all day, from the moment Morgan’s call had woken them up, all through making arrangements for Lance’s trip. Shelby never showed, but Lance had talked to him and agreed he would only be gone for a few days.
* * * *
Two days later, he came back. His mother had passed before he arrived, so he’d stayed with his sister at their mother’s home, making arrangements while Morgan’s husband, Jake, carted their kids to his parents’ for Thanksgiving dinner. Lance and Morgan ended up having their own dinner at a coffee shop near Morgan’s house, an uncomfortable occasion that Lance wasn’t eager to repeat. He’d stayed the night at her place and left the next morning. He barely felt like he’d spent any time with family. His sister was a different person than he remembered, and his lifestyle was certainly one she didn’t understand. He offered to keep sending her money, but she declined the offer.
“You’ve done enough,” she told him seriously. “We’re fine. You should keep your money for yourself.”
He’d hugged her then and gotten in the hired car to the airport. He still wondered when he’d talk to her again.
His reception back at the Fletcher estate was far warmer than anything he’d gotten at home. Gordon and Noble were there with a modest Thanksgiving feast for three.
“Since you didn’t really get one,” Noble explained when Lance pointed out the day itself had passed.
Between them, his boyfriend and his best friend made him feel more comfortable and loved and at home than he could ever remember feeling.
That night, Gordon warmed his soul with long, slow lovemaking, then spooned him as he fell asleep.
* * * *
On Saturday, Shelby called Lance in for a private meeting. After an uncomfortable offering of condolences, Shelby got to the heart of the matter.
“Lance, I know this band isn’t what you’d hoped for.”
Lance blinked, startled. They sat in what passed for Shelby’s office in the big house. There was a desk in the room, but that wasn’t where they sat. Instead they sat on two facing love seats across a low coffee table. He was pretty sure all the furniture was antique and probably worth more than he’d ever made in his life.
“I know it’s not what any rock musician wants. But”—Shelby leaned forward, elbows on his knees—“it’s what I’ve wanted. I have a vision.”
“I know.” And he did. Shelby had explained that things would be different when he’d hired Lance. It wasn’t like he’d gone
in with blinders on.
“I have this music…” Shelby continued as though Lance hadn’t spoken. “So many melodies and harmonies in my head, and I just want to record it. To play it.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure anyone else really knows how I feel.” The faraway look faded, and he looked at Lance. “But you might. Out of everyone, I think you understand what I’m talking about.”
Lance couldn’t possibly hide his surprise anymore. He felt his eyes widen and his brows rise, and he consciously shut his mouth, which had fallen open.
Shelby smiled. “You think I don’t notice. That I don’t know they say I’m weird. I notice.” He leaned forward a little. “I just don’t care.” He let that sink in a little, then sat back. “But I get that it’s probably hard to share my vision.” He picked up a sheaf of papers from his desk and held them out toward Lance. “That’s why I want to renegotiate your contract.”
Frowning, Lance took the papers. There was a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but he was able to skim and get the gist. “A hundred thousand dollars?”
“Yes.” Shelby smiled as he folded his fingers primly on his knee. “I want to raise your yearly salary. The room and board still stands. I also want to hire you on to help manage the club. Gordon’s doing a fair job, but I’m sure he would appreciate the help. And he obviously trusts you. That job, of course, would have its own salary.”
Two salaries? Lance kept skimming the contract, his mind racing. Why this? Why now? Was Shelby just being benevolent, or was there something behind this? Then he saw something that made his heart stop. He looked up so he could see Shelby’s face. “Writing credits?”
Shelby nodded. “I think I can trust you and Noble now with my music. You’ve proven that you’re not just out for yourselves.”
Lance noted that the wording ensured Shelby still received the bulk of the credit, but any credit would ensure that Lance and Noble were entitled to royalties. “You’re giving the same offer to Noble?”
“Yes. I wanted to talk to you first. In case we had to negotiate.”
Lance blinked. Noble would be thrilled. Probably. Wouldn’t he?
“So? What do you think?”