by Tara Lain
“He’s likable.”
“He’s a fucking angel, and don’t you forget it.” He frowned at Paolo, then stared back at the dashboard.
“But if I can continue your Henry Tudor analogy, Bobby doesn’t turn my dick into an English broadsword, and you do. That first day in the conference room, I had to sit down before I tripped over my cock. One look. That’s all I needed. It pissed me the hell off. Still does.”
Robin gave him a sideways glance. “It’s just your overactive ego.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You get off on guys who are mean, nasty, obnoxious, and high-handed. Just like looking in the fucking mirror!”
Paolo snorted a laugh, then went still again. “Why did you suck my cock? Twice?”
“To teach you a lesson.”
“Which is what?”
He faced Paolo squarely. “That you never for one minute believed I was Bobby. You might have tried to convince yourself, but it was so much delusion. It was me you wanted, and you found a way to make it okay with you to have me.” He narrowed his eyes. “And then you blamed me for it.”
“Yeah. Well, how self-deluded is it to believe you only sucked me to get even? Fuck off. You wanted me. You want me now.”
“And vice versa, bucko.”
Paolo stared at him. “So maybe we should fuck. You know, like, be lovers.”
Robin’s heart slammed. “Lovers? And how exactly will love fit into this?” He literally held his breath.
Paolo shrugged. “It doesn’t have to, does it? I mean, you’ve had a lot of guys, right?”
Some shard of glass carved a hole in his chest and drops fell from his heart. Robin shook his head. “Right. I don’t fit in your plans, do I? I’m a struggling artist with a bad reputation and no money. I can’t get you new clients or invited to the best places.” He sighed. “Any more than your mother can.” He wiped a tired hand across his face. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot of guys for fun.” He swallowed hard. “You sure as fuck aren’t fun.”
He opened the car door, stepped out, and started walking toward the lights of the convenience store on the next corner. On the way he pulled out his phone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
MICAH HELD the car door, and Bobby gazed up into his wide eyes that glittered in the reflected light from the porch—the porch of Micah’s house where they were now headed with the avowed purpose of having sex for the first time.
Micah grinned and swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple danced salsa. “I haven’t been this nervous since I took my med school exams.”
Bobby touched his cheek as he rose from the car seat. “You were a sure thing then, and you’re even more of a sure thing now. I can’t wait.” He slipped his arm in Micah’s, but his pulse throbbed in his throat—and in his dick. “I have to admit, I’m pretty nervous too.” He giggled.
“Hey, no fair. I’m counting on you to guide me through the rocky shoals of romance.”
Bobby stopped and looked up at him. “Uh, you have had sex—? I mean—”
“Sure.” He gently moved Bobby’s floppy bangs from his eyes. “But not as much as you’d think and certainly not any that counted. I had a bit of a promiscuous patch in college since I was celebrating being gay and free for the first time, but then school and life got very real, and even sex took a back seat.”
Bobby stared at a spot on Micah’s chest. “I’ve had a lot of sex. More than most guys, I expect. And I’ve enjoyed the hell out of it. But this—you’re different.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is.” They walked to the front steps, and Bobby stared at the view of the black ocean above the lights of homes built down the hillside below them. “Wow.”
“Yeah. That’s why I bought this place.”
Bobby stared and breathed. “You know, I’m just a regular guy.” Micah made a little snorting sound, and Bobby looked up. “Yes, I know I’m fabulous.” He grinned. “But what with the twin thing and the queen thing and the artist thing, it’s easy to believe I’m larger than life. But larger than life isn’t quite real, and I want real.” He flipped his bangs. “Of course, I also want to be queen.”
“Yes!” Micah swept him up on his arms like Scarlett O’Hara and carried him to the door. “Uh, I didn’t quite think this through. Keys are required.”
“Where are they?”
“Pants pocket.”
Squirming like a python, Bobby reached down and slid a hand into Micah’s tux pants pocket. Keys jingled. “Oooh, far more interesting things than keys in here.” He insinuated his hand deep into the pocket and found a lovely big lump. He waggled his fingers.
Micah wiggled and giggled. Perfect combo. “If you grab those keys and let us in the door, I guarantee far more interesting access to your discovery.”
“Quite promising.” He grabbed the keys, leaned down toward the door lock, and nearly landed on his nose. They finally gave up the whole “across the threshold” thing in favor of getting the damned door open.
Together they stumbled inside. Micah slammed the door closed and pulled Bobby tightly against him. “Consider yourself carried, okay?”
“You can carry me anytime.” He meant that all the way to his sweet, melty center.
Micah kissed him gently, all soft lips and teasing tongue. Bobby complied—for a minute. Then he grasped a hand on each of Micah’s cheeks and toed off his formal shoes. “This is lovely, but it’s taking way too long to get to bed.” With a low growl, he pressed his tongue deep into Micah’s mouth, wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, and hopped up until his legs encircled Micah’s narrow hips.
“Whoa!” Micah grabbed Bobby’s ass and pulled him in to just the right spot—throbbing lump to throbbing lump. Bobby started riding Micah like a merry-go-round animal, up and down and up and ummmm. Micah muttered, “Don’t stop. Must get up the stairs.”
Holding Bobby, who didn’t slow his pace one whit, he stumbled a few feet to the wide staircase that led to a second floor, took the first step, and followed with his other foot so he stood on the bottom stair. “Oh God, that’s so good.”
Bobby reached between them and loosened Micah’s fly, slid in, and grabbed way more than a handful. “Holy crap, look what I found.”
“Oh man, Bobby, be careful with that. It’s highly unreliable.”
“I love a bit of unpredictability.” He maneuvered around until he managed to get his own fly down and then dropped his butt lower so he could press flesh to flesh.
“Shit, is that what I think it is?”
“Only if you have a salacious imagination.” He whispered the words in Micah’s ear. “I wish I could see that big cock of yours. I love the way it feels in my hand.”
“I’ve dreamed about yours.”
“Ooh, bad-boy doctor, dreaming about handling your patient’s private parts.”
“When you were on my table, it took internal lectures on professional ethics to keep me from leaning down and tasting.”
“You’re about to have the whole feast, darling.” Bobby rode Micah harder, flashes of electric pleasure filling his cock—and his heart.
“But I have to make it to the bedroom, and I’m seriously afraid I won’t. God, you’re too much for my poor deprived balls.”
Bobby leaned back and stared into Micah’s face. “Want to know what’s in my pocket?”
“What?”
Bobby released one hand from behind Micah’s neck, reached in and produced a packet of lube. “But I don’t have a condom.”
Micah smiled, but his breath came fast. “You don’t need one. I’ve seen your tests, remember?”
“Then fuck me.”
“Oh shit.”
Bobby squirmed until Micah released him, his hard dick still tenting the front of his tux pants. He stripped his jacket and tossed it over the stair rail, then slid his pants down to the floor. His shirttail stuck out like a sheik’s tent.
Micah stared.
Bobby planted a fist on his hip
. “Admire later, fuck now!”
Micah sprang to life, tossing his own coat and stripping his pants and briefs until one mighty impressive organ stuck out from the bottom of his shirt. He started to rip the lube packet with his teeth and stopped. “You sure you want to bottom?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting my whole life for that.” He pointed at Micah’s cock, which now dripped precum. With a twirl he poised himself over the railing and wiggled his asscheeks in the direction he hoped would do the most good.
“Jesus, Bobby, just looking at you could make me come.” Micah held on to his cock like a lifeline.
“Then get in there fast, darling, because I want to feel you inside me before you shoot.”
He felt Micah’s warm heat over his back. “You sure I won’t hurt you?” He gently insinuated a sticky finger into Bobby’s ass.
“More, please.” He added an extra wiggle.
“You’re so hot in there.” Another finger joined the first.
“I’m hot everywhere. Just lube up that behemoth and fuck me.”
“Are you sure—?”
“Fuck me!”
Micah sucked a breath, there was a brief pause, and then a big, hot, blunt head pushed against Bobby’s hole. “I don’t want to—”
Wham! Bobby shoved his ass backward on Micah’s cock and slammed that sucker to the center of his being, huge and burning and wonderful and perfect.
“Shit!” Micah held still, holding Bobby’s butt in his big hands and breathing like he’d run the LA Marathon and beaten the Kenyans. “So good, gonna, oh man—”
Bobby thrust backward, then pulled away from Micah’s hands, sliding his ass almost to the tip of Micah’s cock, and slammed back again until his balls flopped against Micah’s thigh.
“Oh God, yes. Yes!” Micah grabbed Bobby’s asscheeks again, and all that sweet, gentle consideration exploded in an inferno of fucking. He popped his hips, panted and yelled like he’d never had sex before, thrusting and thrusting, lighting up Bobby’s gland and boiling the cum in his balls. “Sweet Jesus, you’re amazing. Heaven. Perfect. Oh God!” His hips froze and his whole body shivered over Bobby’s back.
Since Bobby had grown old enough to understand the power of a cock in his ass, he’d had sex on hundreds of occasions, but as his dick ejaculated cum all over Micah’s staircase, it was his very first time. The tear that dripped off his chin splashed on his bare thigh.
A half hour later, they’d managed to wipe up the stairs and each other, hang up their clothes in Micah’s big closet, brush their teeth thanks to an extra in Micah’s bathroom drawer, and snuggle into the king-sized bed, spooning so they could both stare out at the moonlight shining off the water.
Bobby clutched Micah’s hand closer to his chest. “Thank you.”
“Hmm. Why do I feel like I got all the gifts?” His breath warmed Bobby’s ear.
Bobby chuckled. “No, I’m just good at sex.” He flipped over. “But you? You’re good at love. You make me feel—whole. It’s funny to say, but for a twin, that’s a hard thing to accomplish.”
“You’re not just good at sex, Bobby. If you ask anyone around you, they’ll say that you brighten their world, make them feel anything is possible, and that in spite of it all, things can turn out okay. That’s a gift.”
Bobby sighed. “Thank you, but if I possess it, it’s because of Robin. He’s taken so much of the shit off me since I was born. He’s made me possible.”
Micah pressed his lips against Bobby’s, then pulled back and pecked his nose. “Then I’ll owe Robin a debt of gratitude forever.”
“DARLING, IF you brush your hair one more time, it’s going to fall out. You look fabulous. Quit fussing.”
Bobby set down the hairbrush and gazed in the mirror at Robin, who lay on the end of Bobby’s bed. “I’m afraid I’m going to be sick.”
Robin bounded up, cleared the space between them, and put his arms around Bobby. “They’re going to love you. Dr. Brown already does—you know that. And the rest of his family will too.”
“Oh God, Robin. What if they don’t?”
Robin held him at arm’s length. “Micah does. That’s all that matters.”
“But his family is so important to him.”
“Yes, so important he tried to date me. And failed, remember? He’s already made his decision, Bobby. He wants you and that’s that. Now quit. You’re Bobby McMillan. They should be so lucky as to have you in the family.”
He breathed out slowly and embraced Robin. “Thank you, big brother.” He stepped back and smiled. “I want you to remember the same thing. You’re fabulous, and there’s just the right guy out there for you too.”
“I don’t know, bro. Single trouble just doesn’t have the same ring.” Robin grinned, but there was so much pain in it, looking was hard. Shit, ever since Bobby had picked him up the previous night after he’d run off to help Paolo, Robin had been bleeding out all over the floor. He wouldn’t say much except that he’d helped find Paolo’s mother and that he and Paolo had said goodbye.
They walked into the living room. Bobby perched on the couch while Robin rattled in the refrigerator. Bobby said, “Dear, why did you run after Paolo last night?”
“I thought I could help.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” His voice sounded muffled, like he had his head in the fridge.
“Alonzo told me Paolo’s mother is an alcoholic.”
“What?” He looked up over the kitchen island. “He should keep his mouth shut. Paolo doesn’t share that.”
Bobby raised the family eyebrow. “I suppose Alonzo, unlike you, figured I was your brother and therefore trustworthy.”
“Sorry. Of course. I just—”
“You just protect Paolo like he didn’t treat you like shit!”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve gotta quit.”
“Yes, you do. Howard says he has a wonderful guy for you to meet—”
“No.” He held up a hand. “Thank you, darling, but not now. Not—”
Bobby filled in the word—yet. Not yet. Not while Robin’s heart was ripped in two—and Bobby didn’t even know what had happened.
The tap on the door shot through Bobby like a double lightning bolt of anticipation and dread. “Oh God.”
Robin hurried around the kitchen island and put a hand on his arm. “Come on, sweetheart, you’re not meeting the homophobic brother, and the rest of them will be a piece of cake. Be your fabulous self.”
Bobby nodded. “Right. You’re right. I love you.”
Robin moved his finger back and forth between them. “Both ways.”
Bobby ran to the door, threw it open, and hurled himself at Micah, who caught him with a laugh. “I do love an enthusiastic greeting.”
“My brother’s been telling me how fabulous I am, so I had to share.”
Micah kissed him gently on the lips. Oh sigh. “You’re brother’s a wise man.”
Bobby glanced toward Robin, who was smiling, but his eyes were sad. Bobby said, “He’s brilliant.”
Robin walked forward and put a hand on both their backs. “And you’re going to be late if you don’t get going.”
Micah laughed. “It’s okay. My mom’s making the hors d’oeuvres, and trust me, we want to miss those. We’ll get there in time to eat Aunt LaShawnda’s dinner.”
Bobby smacked his chest. “No. I want to be there for anything your mom makes for me.”
“You’ll be sorrrry.”
Robin barked a laugh. “Go on, you two. Have a fun time.”
Bobby touched Robin’s cheek. “Get some rest, dear. Tomorrow night we’re all going to go out and drink too much and raise hell and celebrate what’s been a great summer so far.” A crease popped between Robin’s brows. Bobby bit his lip. “Except for some notable exceptions.”
Micah pulled on his arm. “Let’s go before you push Robin into clinical depression.”
Robin gave him a smile, and they left the apartment. In one step out the
door, all Bobby’s concern about Robin got pushed aside as his anxiety over meeting Micah’s family took center stage. “We should stop and get some flowers for your mom.”
“Mom’s allergic to flowers.” He wrapped an arm tightly around Bobby’s shoulders. “Quit worrying, darling. This isn’t an interview with the queen.” He held the car door for Bobby and made charming chatter all the way to Santa Ana, until they pulled up in front of a gracious old house with perfect landscaping. Micah parked and walked around to open the passenger door. He leaned down and kissed Bobby gently on the lips. “Welcome to the house I spent my misspent adolescence in.”
“All that time you misspent becoming a doctor?”
He pulled Bobby up and embraced him. “You can get into a lot of trouble between biology and anatomy classes.”
“Hey, it looks like the party’s out here.” Bobby glanced up to see a tall, slim woman with light brown hair and laughing light eyes the color of Micah’s trotting across the lawn toward them. She stopped, wrapped her arms around Bobby, and hugged him tight. “Oh my God, honey, you’re the prettiest thing I ever saw.” She slipped her arm around Bobby’s waist and pulled him toward the house. “And you’re a painter. That’s so perfect for Micah. I’m Tessa, by the way. Micah’s mom.”
“You’re a doctor too, right?”
“Yes. I’m a pediatrician.”
Bobby grinned. “I’ll bet those kids are anxious to be sick. And if you’ll forgive the cliché, you sure don’t look old enough to be Micah’s mom.”
“Clichés that charming are always forgiven.”
Inside the entry of the pretty house with its traditional style, Dr. Brown stood with his hands outstretched. “Bobby, it’s so good to see you again.”
“You too, sir.” He took the doctor’s hands.
“If you’re going to be Micah’s boyfriend, you have to learn to call me Isaiah.”