Summer Stock

by Vanessa North

  Ryan nodded. “Okay.”

  “Vincent was . . . abusive. When he got angry—which was a lot—he would yell, throw things. He would hit things. The walls, doors, anything that got in his way—and me. If I defended myself, if I hit back, I felt bad, and I ended up apologizing. Eventually, I stopped going in the garage because that’s where we had so many fights.”

  “And he’s in jail now? Does he still own part of the house?”

  “Yes. And no. I bought him out as part of the divorce settlement.”

  “Okay.”

  In a flat, quiet voice, as if he were reciting something by rote, Trey continued. “One night I came home from the theater and he was in a mood. Violent. Angry. Throwing things in the kitchen. He beat the shit out of me—broke my nose and cracked two ribs, then stabbed me with a boning knife, and left me bleeding on the kitchen floor.”

  “Jesus.” Ryan shuddered and held Trey closer. The deadpan, emotionless way Trey was describing what had happened chilled him to the bone.

  “If we’d owned a gun, I’d be dead. I have no doubt of that. Anyway, I had left my phone at the theater. Caro brought it over and found me half-dead. She managed to do basic first aid and keep me conscious until the ambulance got there. She saved my life. And after she made her report to the police, she got me a divorce lawyer.”

  Ryan’s hand clutched over Trey’s heart—how close had he come to never meeting this beautiful man? The thought made him dizzy and helpless. “I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt you.”

  “Vincent wanted to hurt the world. Rage and entitlement were a big black hole in his life, sucking everything happy into it. Including me. I think he was always like that—but when we first met, he was really sweet to me. And he was good-looking. Charm plus looks are a potent combo.” Trey sighed and snuggled closer to Ryan’s chest. “But . . . the signs were there. I just didn’t want to see them, and he made me feel like maybe the situation wasn’t how it seemed. He didn’t remember things happening the same way I did—sometimes he didn’t remember them happening at all. So many times I felt like I was losing my mind.”

  “He was gas-lighting you.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know the word back then. Boy, do I know it now.”

  “So the garage? You don’t go out there because it’s a trigger for your anxiety?”

  “Yeah. I don’t even know what’s out there. I don’t want any of it. Legally I own everything in the house, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want anything he’s touched.”

  “All right.” Ryan nodded. “How long has it been?”

  “A year and a half. My therapist thinks it would be good for me to reclaim that space, but every time I try, I have a panic attack.”

  Ryan ran a finger down the side of Trey’s neck, absently tracing the cords of working-man muscle. “Why don’t we call someone to come remove it, then?”

  “What?” Trey looked over his shoulder at Ryan. “What do you mean?”

  “We call someone to come clean out the garage. They sell anything of value and cut you a check, minus their fees. They dispose of everything else. You don’t have to look at any of it, you don’t have to deal with it, and your garage becomes yours again.”

  “This is a thing people do?” Trey’s voice was incredulous.

  “What do you think happens when someone dies if they don’t have family? Or if their family doesn’t want to deal with their shit?”

  “But no one died,” Trey pointed out.

  “So what? That doesn’t mean the people who provide those services wouldn’t take the job. I doubt they care whose shit they’re clearing out and selling off, as long as they get their cut.”

  “I don’t know if I can afford it—what if they don’t make enough from selling off the stuff to cover their fees?”

  “How about you let me handle that?”

  Trey began to protest, as Ryan had known he would.

  Ryan held up a hand. “Please consider it a gift from a friend. It doesn’t mean you owe me anything. And I’ve got plenty of money. My agent and manager made sure I didn’t shove it all up my nose.”

  “But—”

  “Let me help. Please?”

  Trey sighed and rolled over, pressing their chests together. He studied Ryan’s face for a long time, long enough that Ryan started to get nervous, but then Trey smiled, and his lips found Ryan’s, and they were kissing like it was breathing.

  “So, that’s a yes?” Ryan asked as he pulled away.

  “Yes. And thank you. I don’t even know how to say all the things floating around in my head. Why would you do this for someone you just met?”

  “Okay, first of all, I’ve been on the island for weeks now, and I met you the same night I got here. Second of all, I like you. A lot. This is something I can do for you, and it will make me feel good to be there. It means something—taking care of each other. That’s what friends do.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend quite like you before. Unless we’re counting your cousin, but I don’t want to kiss her senseless.”

  Trey kissed him again, this time letting the heat build between them until they were both gasping and grinding together.

  “Come on, come back to my bedroom.” Trey stood and stretched out his hand.

  “I don’t—” Ryan shuddered, because yeah, he wanted to. “I don’t want you to go to bed with me out of gratitude.”

  Trey grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. “I’m inviting you to my bed because you’re sexy and I fucking can’t wait to have you fuck me. While I am absolutely grateful for your unexpected insight into my situation, I’d be even more grateful for your dick in my ass right now. Okay?”

  Ryan’s eye widened, clearly stunned, and it was adorable. How had he lived to be twenty-five years old, in Hollywood, and without hearing that kind of candid dirty talk? Trey was starting to think Ryan was far more sheltered than either of them believed.

  “Or if you’d rather I fuck you—I mean, I don’t really care one way or the other?”

  Ryan opened and closed his mouth like a fish, then honest-to-god blushed to the roots of his hair. “You’re so— Gah, I don’t have words for what you are. Take me to your bedroom? Last time I left my briefs on your living room floor, Ferdy had them for breakfast.”

  Laughter bubbled up out of Trey, and he kissed Ryan again, backing him up against the wall as they moved toward the bedroom. He ran his hands down Ryan’s hard chest, then up under his shirt, scraping his nails over hot skin, and Ryan squirmed and made a delicious pleading whimper, breaking the kiss and turning his head to the side. Trey dove in. There was a spot behind Ryan’s ear that always ramped him up—there. Nothing was hotter than the way Ryan responded to a graze of teeth—half laugh, half whine, breathless and impatient and grinding his dick against Trey’s leg.

  They stumbled into the bedroom, tugging at clothes and grinning—God, was he ever going to get enough of Ryan’s laugh? He yanked Ryan’s shirt over his head, threw it on the floor, and got his hands back on Ryan’s face, giving in to the urge to plant rough, biting kisses on those gorgeous lips until Ryan let out a low moan and shoved him onto the bed.

  They rolled and wrestled, kicking the rest of their clothing away until they were both naked and Trey had Ryan pinned. Ryan’s hand came up and stroked Trey’s ear, then cradled the side of his face, drawing a shuddery breath from Trey.

  Time slowed as he leaned down and indulged himself in another deep kiss—the urgency was still there, he couldn’t imagine ever not craving Ryan—but somehow, in spite of it, holding on to Ryan and kissing him like their lives depended on it was just as good.

  “Will you fuck me?” he finally asked, staring into Ryan’s steady hazel gaze.

  Ryan bit his lip and looked down their bodies to where their cocks rubbed against each other.

  “I’ve never done it before. I always liked bottoming so much—”

  “I love topping you. If you want to do it like we’ve always done, that’s
fine. I like bottoming too, though. I can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me.”

  “You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?”

  Trey kissed him again, slow and dirty, and nipped his lower lip. “It’s you and me together. Nothing about it can be wrong. But I’ll tell you if anything you do doesn’t work for me. It’s just sex, love. It’s not a performance.”

  Ryan’s low breathy laugh was the only warning Trey got before Ryan rolled them over and reversed their positions. “Okay, then lie back and let me play for a bit.” He sat up, straddling Trey’s chest and reaching for the stash of condoms and lube in Trey’s drawer. They hit the bed with a thump, and then Ryan started exploring.

  Trey stretched his arms above his head and grabbed the headboard, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Ryan’s hands slid down his chest as soft as a whisper, teasing nipples and tickling the strawberry-blond hair around Trey’s navel. When he took a nipple between his thumb and finger and rolled it gently, pleasure shot through Trey and his hips jerked.

  “Mmm.” Ryan moved to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment, then he made his way down Trey’s body. He paused for a moment over the small tattoo above Trey’s hip. “It’s a circle?”

  Trey shrugged, as best he could while holding on to the headboard. “I wanted to cover the stabbing scar—I didn’t care if it was pretty, I just wanted it to be mine.”

  Brushing his lips over the small black circle, Ryan took Trey’s dick in one hand. A long lick, a slow stroke, and Trey was ready to promise him anything he wanted if he’d only hurry up. But hurrying didn’t seem to be Ryan’s style. He played with Trey’s dick, tonguing the head, sucking it, rolling his balls and giving them gentle tugs. Trey couldn’t keep his hips still; he rocked upward with every new sensation Ryan gave him.

  “Oh god,” Trey murmured. “That’s good.” He lifted his knees and put his feet on the bed, hoping Ryan would take the hint and keep exploring. When one spit-slick finger probed him, he let out a rough sigh and couldn’t hold on to the headboard anymore. He buried his hands in Ryan’s hair and groaned.

  Ryan fumbled around for the lube, looking up at Trey and giving him a sweetly wicked smile, then he applied himself to opening Trey like it was his job. Being the utter focus of Ryan’s concentration took Trey’s breath away. Nothing made him feel more vulnerable than opening his body to another person, letting them inside and trusting them to make it good.

  “Are you comfortable on your back?” Ryan asked.

  This is really happening. Trey shuddered, nodded, and drew Ryan to him for a kiss.

  Ryan’s tongue was still sliding into his mouth when his cock breached Trey’s ass. The slick slide and sharp spike of pain made Trey gasp, and Ryan pulled back.

  “Okay?”

  Trey nodded, letting out a breath and bearing down to take Ryan deep inside.

  “You feel amazing.” Ryan took up a tentative rhythm, and when Trey rolled his hips into it, Ryan seemed to find his confidence.

  Grabbing his dick in one hand, Trey reached for Ryan with the other, and then they were kissing and fucking and everything was perfect— he could have cried. The heat built, fast and sharp and so good Trey wanted to live in that moment forever. Too soon, the orgasm he tried to hold back was set off by a particularly enthusiastic thrust, and he came, crying out into Ryan’s mouth.

  Ryan kissed him through it, then dropped his hands to Trey’s hips and drove into him in that erratic, excited way of a man on the verge of coming, and then it was Trey’s turn to hold him through the convulsions of pleasure.

  Ryan slumped down on the bed and slowly withdrew from Trey’s body. Trey wiped them down with a T-shirt from the floor, tugged the blankets up over them both, and held up the trash can for Ryan. As Ryan disposed of the condom, Trey’s eyelids started to drag downward.

  “You okay?” Ryan murmured.

  “Perfect.” He fell asleep like that, there with Ryan’s head on his shoulder and arms around his waist.

  Ryan woke in the warm circle of Trey’s arms, sticky and sated, as the late-afternoon sunlight winked around the edges of the shades. He looked up and saw Trey’s eyes were open, and he was smiling.

  “Didn’t want to wake you,” Trey whispered as Ryan stretched to kiss him.

  Would he ever get over the softness of Trey’s lips against his, the intensity of kissing like this? “God, you slay me. Can we just stay in bed for the rest of our lives?”

  “We need to get up to eat and pee and let Ferdy eat and pee, but other than that I am firmly on board with that plan.”

  As if in agreement, Ryan’s stomach rumbled. Trey laughed, ran a warm hand over Ryan’s abs, and kissed him again. “I think I can scrounge something up to cook, if you’re hungry?”

  “Sure. You cook?”

  Trey shrugged. “I can’t afford to eat out all the time. Plus, I like it. I get into a rhythm in the kitchen, and it’s pretty Zen. Relaxing even.”

  “I’m all for anything that puts a smile on your face. What are you going to make?”

  “Would you like to walk down to the market and see what kind of fish have come in?”

  “Oh man, that would be awesome.” Ryan smiled, remembering trips to the fish market when he was a little boy, how he would stare wide-eyed at the live fish and crustaceans in their tanks. “I used to go there as a kid.”

  “Yeah? Did you pick out your own lobster and name him before your folks broke the news that he was going to be dinner?”

  “Right, like we could afford lobster. Naw, we’d go get shrimp or crab for special occasions. But I liked to watch the lobster when I was a kid.”

  “Well, let’s go relive some of your youth.” Trey stretched and stood, and Ryan started hunting around for his clothes. It was very different from the last time he’d woken up at Trey’s house—and not just because he wasn’t hungover. He’d gotten comfortable with Trey’s easygoing affection. What was it Trey had said? “Leave each other better than we found each other.” Trey had already remodeled something in Ryan—made him more confident and assured. Would the newfound confidence linger when he returned to LA to find work? Maybe, maybe not. But he owed it to himself—and to Trey—to try to hold on to it.

  “Should we take the dog?” he asked as he slipped his feet into his sandals.

  “Nah. He had a long walk this morning. He needs his beauty sleep.”

  The walk to the fish market was only about a half mile along the beach, and Ryan filled it by describing his conversation with Ali that morning. “So she’s coming here, and she’s going to stay with me.”

  “I bet you’re looking forward to having her here.” Trey peered out at the ocean, a line forming between his brows.

  “I’m looking forward to introducing you two. I think you’ll like her.”

  The line disappeared from Trey’s forehead, and he smiled. “I’m sure I will.” He picked up Ryan’s hand and gave it a squeeze, dropping it right away when Ryan glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t think about your paparazzi situation.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I was at your house all afternoon. I was photographed half-naked on your front steps. I doubt a hand squeeze is much to make a fuss about.”

  “Does the press know you’re gay?” Trey asked, almost too casually.

  “Well, I’m not gay.”

  “Excuse me?” Trey stopped dead in his tracks. “Putting your dick in my ass a few hours ago seems pretty gay to me.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes and kept walking. Yeah, he’d had this conversation with every guy he’d ever dated. When Trey caught up, he said, “I’m bi, and I haven’t had a long-term boyfriend or girlfriend since I’ve been living in LA, so it never seemed worth the trouble of coming out. I let people assume I’m straight, but I don’t care if they know I like guys too. My publicist would care how they found out though. And it might affect the kind of jobs I could get.”

  “Huh. Bi. I never would have guessed.”

  “Really?”
/>
  “I haven’t seen you look twice at a girl since I met you.”

  That made Ryan laugh as they approached the door to the fish market, which he held open for Trey. “Why would I look twice at anyone else when I’m with the hottest guy on Banker’s Shoals?”

  The expression on Trey’s face as he stumbled through the door was absolutely priceless.

  As they walked back to the house with a Styrofoam cooler full of fresh-caught grouper, Trey muddled over what Ryan had said. The hottest guy on Banker’s Shoals? He peeked over at Ryan, who was easily the most beautiful person he’d ever met in his life, and something warm crashed around his insides like the waves on the shore.

  “You think I’m hot?” he blurted.

  Ryan smiled one of his gorgeous, charming grins. “Um, yeah? Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

  “Yeah, I have a broken nose, a lumpy ear, and red hair.”

  Biting his lip, Ryan reached over and flicked the lumpy ear. “Like I said, hot. Though I’d call you strawberry-blond more than a true redhead.”

  Just then, Ryan’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket and grinned. “Hold on, it’s Ali.” His thumbs flew over the screen as he texted her back, their walk slowing to a crawl. Then he frowned at Trey.

  “She’s chartered a flight, but she’s coming into the Outer Banks at lunchtime two weeks from Monday. And it’s tech week.”

  “So?”

  Ryan shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Her license is suspended. A couple months before she went into rehab, she got pulled over—high as a kite and driving my car—and she had coke in the glove box. Part of her plea deal was surrendering her driver’s license for two years—not that that stopped her from driving.” Ryan frowned. “She crashed West’s car about six weeks later.”

  “I see.”

  “She’s not a bad person—she just . . .” Ryan shrugged. “I can’t make excuses for her. Hollywood was hard, and Ali doesn’t know how to be hard back. And now I have to ask Mason if I can be late to rehearsal. During tech week.”