Trust the Focus

by Megan Erickson

  He didn’t look appeased. “But we haven’t . . . you know.” He widened his eyes. “What if it doesn’t work? Or what if neither of us like it? What if . . .” His voice trailed off and his teeth came out to bite his lip again.

  I hadn’t thought any of this stuff. We were Justin and Landry. We fit together. It was us or nothing. “Are you really worried about that?”

  He nodded.

  “Landry.” I sighed and cupped his neck. “Everything we’ve done already has been amazing. I’m sure when we have sex it will be the same. But if not, we’ll figure it out. It’s us. We’ve been through tons of shit and always came out the other side. We’ll do it with this, too.”

  His eyes flashed and I knew he was thinking about that moment. With the Bastard. And the pain. “Can we . . . can we try?”

  I stretched my arm above me and pillowed my head on my bicep. Landry rolled to face me, our legs tangled. His fingers stroked the strip of skin showing at my hip and I ran my fingers through his hair. “Try what?” I knew the answer but wanted to hear Landry say it. Wanted this to be his decision, for us to take the next step physically.

  He rolled his hips against mine, a small, hesitant smile on his lips. “This,” he whispered. “Sex.”

  That word on his lips raced along my skin, as if every nerve was exposed. I sorted through the emotions in my head, flipping between them until I realized the one winning out was anxiousness.

  Despite what I’d said, that we’d work it out, I didn’t want to let him down. Or hurt him. “Are you sure . . . ?”

  His jaw clenched once and he nodded, as if he came to a decision in his head. “I haven’t wanted to be around anyone else. Other men . . . gay men . . . made me nervous after the thing at he club.” He took a deep breath. “But I’ve still always been okay with you.”

  I remembered him sitting on that rock in Washington, snugged up against me, sketching Mount St. Helens. I remembered him laying at my feet last semester, idly playing with the hem of my jeans, his shoulder snug against my knee. It’d taken all my willpower at the time not to pull him up and kiss him.

  Despite the distance between us the last couple of years, when we did spend time together, Landry sought out physical touch.

  I opened up my mouth but he cut me off. “And it’s not just that it’s you. I mean, it is, but . . .” He bit his lip, pleading with me to understand, and I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure. He continued. “It’s also me. I’m ready for this. I’ve accepted that what happened, happened. And it could have been worse. But now I’m here. And I’m happy and I’m with you. And I want to be with you.”

  I kept nodding and drew him closer, pressing a kiss at the corner of his lips. “I do, too.”

  “So we’ll try?” Those eyes were pleading.

  And in what world would I say no? “Of course.”

  I still didn’t know how it would work. But Landry seemed content and happy with the decision. I’d let him lead. I’d cede control to him and allow him to set the pace.

  So I kissed him, but pulled back before I could test the stretch of my jeans. “We’ll figure it out. And stop worrying. No other guy is catching my eye, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  I went to sit up but then the thought crossed my mind and I turned back to look at him, still on his back under me. “Hey, should I be worried?”

  His eyes cleared immediately, all masks gone, and I knew I had the real, truthful Landry. He raised up on his elbows and looked me in the eye. “Never.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The guy standing next to Tomás in the entrance of Comida del Cielo was huge, at least four inches taller than me. He had thick, longish black hair, a five-o’clock shadow on his tanned, smooth skin, and a V-neck shirt displaying fur-covered pec cleavage. He looked like a jacked-up Antonio Banderas. Where did this guy come from? Tomás was shorter than me. His brother must be taking crazy, giant-growing vitamins.

  And he was looking at Landry like he was just right and planned to gobble him up.

  I stepped closer to Landry and grabbed his hand. He inclined his head and said out of the corner of his mouth, “That’s a bear.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “A Hispanic bear. I think they’re rare.”

  “Lan—”

  “He looks cuddly.”

  I shot Landry a glare and he laughed, his eyes sparkling, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. I was somewhat appeased. When disappointment flashed over the Giant’s face, my appeasement meter skyrocketed. Two friends walked up behind him, almost as tall, just as hairy and beardy.

  An easy smile teased the big guy’s lips and he stepped forward, holding out his hand to me. “Hi, I’m Matéo.”

  Oh fuck. He even had a sexy name. I shook his hand as Tomás introduced Landry and me to Matéo and his two grizzly friends, Donovan and Bobby. Of course my flirt of a boyfriend greeted Tomás’s brother with a “Hi, there.”

  The big guy smirked. “You can call me Téo.”

  “Oh? Well you can call me Landry,” Landry said.

  Matéo-you-can-call-me-Téo winked.

  Now I directed my glare at him, and he grinned back. Asshole.

  We slid into a curved booth at a round table, and I winced as the denim cut off the circulation to my legs. I made sure to sit as close to my Goldilocks as I could in case any bears got ideas.

  “What’s good here?” Landry asked, eyes glued to his menu.

  “Porridge,” I muttered.

  Landry said distractedly, “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  Téo turned out to be a nice guy. He worked for the district attorney’s office as a deputy prosecutor and regaled us with tales from the courtroom. Landry listened with rapt attention as Téo talked passionately about his work.

  I wanted to be that passionate about something. Something other than Landry. I pictured coming home from a long day at work to Landry, sitting down to dinner and telling him all about my exciting day capturing a baseball game for posterity through my lens.

  Landry would look at me and smile. Tell me he was proud of me.

  Fuck, I wanted that.

  While he talked, Téo stole looks at Landry, but my boyfriend kept a firm hand on my leg and really, I couldn’t blame the guy—Landry looked hot. He’d fixed his hair so his curls were just right and his eyes shone in the dim candlelight of the restaurant. The wine pinked his cheeks and softened his laugh.

  I couldn’t stop staring at him.

  “So,” Téo said to me. “My brother told me about this trip. I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”

  I ran my fingers over the rim of my glass. “Thanks.”

  “And I admire you for taking this trip. I’m sure your father would be proud.”

  Ah hell, now I couldn’t hate the guy. “I appreciate that. Means a lot.”

  “And this?”—he waved his hand between Landry and me—“is all new for you?”

  I swallowed a gulp of my rum and Coke and eyed Tomás.

  He held his hands up. “What? I had to explain my pitcher was no longer straight as I had originally told him. Or, was never straight.”

  I turned to Téo and fingered the condensation on my glass. “Right. Uh, I wasn’t honest with myself or . . .” I glanced at Landry, “anyone else. But I’m working on that now.”

  “And your family?” Téo said.

  Landry stiffened beside me, and I remembered Tomás mentioning his brother’s issues with his parents.

  “Well, I haven’t told my mother. That’s what I’m most nervous about.”

  Téo smiled, but it was strained. “That’s hard.”

  I leaned forward. “Advice?”

  Téo crushed ice from his drink between his teeth and it reminded me of my dad and his candies. “It’s not easy. And you need to do it when you’re ready and on
your own time. And I think you would be surprised at people’s reactions. Not everyone will want to knock you down.”

  I wanted to tell him I wasn’t worried about getting knocked down. I was worried about getting stabbed in the heart by my mother’s heels.

  But then Landry’s hand curved around mine on my lap. We smiled at each other and then I turned to Téo. “Thanks for the advice.”

  He hummed in the back of his throat. “Of course.”

  ***

  The club was a blur of skin and denim stretched to the max and it smelled like sweat and alcohol and lust. The bass pounded in my ears and lights flashed, highlighting guys on platforms dressed in nothing but boots and briefs, writhing their bodies to the beat.

  I curled a finger into Landry’s belt loops, unwilling to separate myself from him among the press of bodies. This wasn’t a night to fuck up, I told myself. This was a night for Landry. He hadn’t been to a club since that night with the Bastard and I wanted to scratch out the memory and replace it with one of our own. I wasn’t stupid, I knew we’d still see the remnants of that night under ours. But at least it’d be harder to look for.

  “Landry, whatever you do, don’t leave me alone in here,” I said.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Don’t worry, I already see some jack offs looking at you.”

  Me? I craned my neck. “Where?”

  He grabbed my chin and yanked it around to face him. I looked into his stormy eyes and grinned. “Just kidding.”

  He growled and pressed a kiss to my lips. I tried to slip my hand into the pocket of his jeans but gave up. How the hell did he even get those things on?

  I was not on board with this tight jean thing.

  We pushed our way to the front of the bar, which was the mecca of the club judging by the five-deep crowd surrounding it. We ordered some weird blue drink that was the house special and sucked on the straws, sticking out our blue tongues and laughing at their new color.

  Téo had found some equally gorgeous guy to flirt with, and Tomás only looked slightly uncomfortable when a skinny blond bought him a drink.

  Then Landry pulled me out on the dance floor, and we lost sight of our friends.

  I couldn’t dance. Never could. The beat of music was like some foreign sound to me. I understood the rhythm of throwing and catching a baseball, the smack of a ball in a mitt familiar.

  And now I couldn’t move if I tried, mesmerized by Landry’s undulating hips and slender body writhing to Lady Gaga as if his bones were liquid, his eyes closed, a sensuous smile on his lips. I stood still among a sea of skin on the dance floor, but the only skin I wanted to see was Landry’s.

  He opened his eyes and pressed his body against mine. “Just feel the beat, Jus!” He yelled over the pounding bass. But I had gone deaf. The only senses that worked were my sight as I stared into his deep blue eyes, and touch as I gripped his waist. He wriggled closer and my hands migrated to his ass, then squeezed. He threw back his head and laughed, baring his throat, and I took that opportunity to bury my face there, sucking on the sweat-salty skin.

  My hips moved then, but it wasn’t to music blaring from the speakers, it was Landry’s music. Our music. The harmony unique to our bodies when joined together.

  I didn’t hear the music and I didn’t feel the jostling of bodies. Because I was home with Landry’s heat surrounding me, with his voice in my ear telling me I was his, and his lips nibbling at my jaw.

  Then his tongue was in my mouth and we melded together, slotting into each other like that last puzzle piece, the one that brought the whole big picture into focus.

  When I was drunk on Landry’s taste and our music, I grabbed his hand and pulled him from the dance floor. I saw a couple winks in his direction, raised eyebrows, but when I looked behind me, Landry followed with his head down, smile on his lips.

  I laughed and tugged him to me and we walked side by side to a high table where Tomás stood with Donovan.

  He handed me a water, a lopsided grin on his face. “Didn’t know you had that in you, zurdo.”

  I took a gulp and passed the glass to Landry. “Had what?”

  “Those moves.”

  I snorted. “I have no moves. Landry just makes me look good.”

  Tomás paused and his eyes flicked to Landry beside me, swinging his hips to the music. “Yes, he does,” Tomás said, a soft smile on his face.

  ***

  We left the club an hour or so later after quick good-byes to Tomás and his brother and friends. In the cab, I kept my face passive to hide my feelings from the driver. And Landry did the same, staring straight out the window. But he reached over the small backseat and ran his hand down the outside of my thigh and then the top, his fingers inching closer and closer to my inseam. I didn’t dare squirm but my jeans got tighter and tighter with every teasing pass of those damn fingers.

  When I tossed some cash at the driver, his squinted eyes told me we hadn’t played it as cool as I thought we had.

  In the elevator up to our room we stood side by side, elbows brushing. Landry’s body vibrated beside mine like a live wire.

  As soon as our hotel door closed behind us, we smashed together, Landry’s body against the door, me caging him in. We connected at all points—lips, chests, hips, knees, and feet. My hands threaded in his hair and his fingers clawed my back as we drank from each other.

  Shoes hit lamps and clothes blanketed the floor in a trail to the bed. I peeled my jeans off of my body, wishing I had a knife or scissors so I could cut them off.

  I couldn’t touch enough of Landry’s skin. I wanted to wrap my limbs around him and stay like that forever, clinging to each other like monkeys.

  We didn’t discuss who would do what. The cap of a tube opened. Landry straddled me as I sat on the bed, and he stroked the lube onto my cock. I closed my eyes at the feel of his fingers on my naked shaft, the warmth and wetness. I didn’t want him to stop.

  But he did, and when I opened my eyes and saw him reach around to his backside, his mouth open, that’s when I knew his intention. “Are you sure? I can—”

  His eyes cracked open. “I’ll do this part. And yes, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t we need—”

  “We’re both clean.”

  That was true. Landry got tested every year and I got a physical because of baseball. So, I slicked my hand and stroked him as he stretched himself, his face twisting in equal parts pleasure and discomfort.

  He pushed me onto my back and followed me down, his hands on the bed at my shoulders. He ran his nose alongside mine, his lips following as he kissed my cheeks, my eyes, my forehead.

  I scraped my short nails up and down his back, feeling each rib and bump along his spine, the curves of his shoulder blades.

  A shudder moved down his body, muscles quivering under my fingers.

  “Lan?”

  A pause, then his lips brushed my jaw. “Feels good.”

  I gripped his neck and directed him back to my mouth for another deep kiss. It was too much and everything all at once. Our lips moved together. Slowly. Languidly. Despite all my blood rushing south, I didn’t want to rush this.

  He pulled back. “I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

  Those words melted my bones and my brain. I hugged him to me, wanting to fuse his skin with mine. “I’ve always wanted it to be you, too.”

  His smile, one I’d never seen before but was immediately my new favorite, spread over his face as he pulled back and straddled me. It was like a beacon, a lighthouse, calling me home.

  Landry was home.

  And it was time.

  I palmed his knees and made circles with my thumbs.

  “Okay,” he whispered, and I didn’t know if he was telling that to me or himself. He scooted forward and then reached behind him, stroking me. His eyes were bright in the dim ligh
t of our room. I saw a hint of nerves, but hell, I was nervous, too.

  The only reason I didn’t stop him was because I saw love in his eyes too. And I knew that look was reflected in mine.

  He licked his lips, gripped me, and then raised up and lowered. Slowly. Oh so slowly. He gasped at the same time I did as the tip of my cock entered a tight ring of heat.

  This was us. Landry and me. Together in a way I’d dreamed about more times than I could imagine. It was more than just the feeling of being inside him, it was the feeling that being with him, this way, was right. His head thrown back. His legs and stomach quivering with effort. His lips red and shiny.

  We were always meant to do this. This had always meant to be us.

  I couldn’t keep my eyes open as he lowered another inch, and I groaned. But they popped back open when a gasp sounded above me. Landry’s teeth were bared, eyes squeezed shut.

  I ran my hands up and down his thighs. “Landry, you okay?” My voice came out garbled because the sensation of his body squeezing me rendered me almost mute.

  His chest rose and fell rapidly, shining with a sheen of sweat. He opened his eyes to half-mast and smiled weakly. “Just give me a minute to . . . adjust.”

  “Landry—”

  He lowered again, effectively cutting off my voice.

  His legs shook beneath my palms. “It’s okay. Hurts. But . . .” He shifted, changing the angle a little. “It’s starting to feel good, too.”

  I didn’t dare move, overriding that instinct to thrust up and up until I exploded. After adjusting again, Landry began to move, rising and falling. I gripped his hips and let him set the pace.

  A couple of his curls were plastered to his temples with sweat. When he smiled at me, his cheeks were flushed, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. His cock was hard between us, the tip leaking, and my heart beat faster because now I knew what he felt like. Tasted like.

  “You can move, too,” Landry said. “Try it. Just . . . slowly.”

  So I did, slow thrusts of my hips, the feeling so intense I swore my skin would burst into flames. My brain didn’t feel attached, because my only reality was where my body joined Landry’s. His eyes shone down at me like blue diamonds.