by Jaime Samms
“Must be good money. He’s got a nice house.”
“It’s decent. He’s our contact for the filming we need to do. He’ll be directing, and he has a camera crew lined up. They’re taking a week off to recuperate from the last push, then we’ll get started.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t care.”
“Not my end of things, really.” And it wasn’t. Lee was even more of a numbers guy than Vince. He liked them a whole lot more than Vince did. At the end of the day, Vince had proved to be quite an effective people person. Lee tended to prefer his computer to dealing with the living and breathing. Nor was Lee a creative type. He was an executive who could balance the most topsy-turvy of budgets and plug any number of permutations into his magic balancing act. He’d managed to insert Blaire’s “soft policies,” as Lee called Blaire’s nicely humane office politics, into this management. Their little company could run on a shoestring because Lee knew where every penny was and how best to spend it, though he grumbled that Blaire’s leniency was bad for the bottom line.
“I went through the new budget, by the way,” Vince said as he picked up the melted ice pack. “Ran a few scenarios. I emailed my spreadsheets for you to look at.”
“Doing my job now too?”
“Helping. Might give you a starting point.” He offered a wry smile. “Might be an illustration for you of all the things not to do. I don’t know. It’s your baby, really. But Blaire is going to want something on paper, and soon.”
Lee nodded. “I know. I’ve been running numbers in my head all day. Minus a four-star hotel suite and a couple of first-class plane tickets. Man is going to run us into the ground before we get off it.” He rubbed at his forehead. “It’s giving me a migraine.”
“Then stop it.” Vince sat on the edge of the bed, lowering his weight slowly, so Lee could adjust at a pace that wouldn’t hurt him. When Vince was settled, he pulled Lee’s hand away from his head and replaced it with his own.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh. And don’t worry about our extended stay or trip home. That was on him, not the company.”
“Why the hell would he—”
“Shush. Because he’s a decent guy and you were hurt. Stop expecting the worst from everyone. Now sit still.”
Lee slapped at his hand, but Vince was quick and grabbed his wrist. “Stop it, before you hurt yourself. I’m just going to massage your scalp. It’ll help. I promise.”
Lee grunted, but after a few heavy breaths, the tension ran out of his upraised arm, and Vince laid it at his side.
“Better,” he said absently.
Lee curled a lip. “Thanks so much.”
“Behave.”
Lee bit his lip, like he wanted to spray some acidic comment all over Vince, but was holding back. When he did speak, his words surprised Vince. “You know, there was a dildo and a flogger on the bed when we came in here.”
“Was there?” He hadn’t known. Pete hadn’t said anything, though Vince had noticed he was scattered and casting about for Vince to offer him structure. He’d left his cell phone in the fridge, for crying out loud. That should have been a big clue right there. Carefully, Vince moved his fingertips in light circles over Lee’s forehead out from the center and up toward his hairline.
“That mean something?” Lee asked.
“It does.” But not anything Vince was ready to talk to Lee about. He didn’t think it was anything Lee was ready to hear.
“You his Dom or something?” Lee’s eyelids fluttered as he spoke, and his gaze fixed on the far wall. Coupled with his teeth digging into his lower lip, for Lee, it was an ostentatious show of nerves.
“You know about the lifestyle?” Vince proceeded down along Lee’s hairline to his temples.
“I watch porn. Same as the next guy.” Lee blinked again and his lips tightened to a thin line. Vince felt the tension in the muscles under his fingers. Was Lee lying? Why? And if he was, what was the truth? Lee shifted, then winced. “Crazy fuckers.”
“I’m sure.” Vince moved a little to better reach the far side of Lee’s head as he walked his fingers toward the back and applied his thumbs along the edges of Lee’s jaw. “Not all porn is created equal, so don’t go believing what you watch to get off. Real life isn’t like that. Terms like Dom and sub can’t be applied to every relationship equally any more than gender or sexuality ones can. Some people don’t use any labels.”
“Pete said you guys don’t.” Lee’s eyes drifted closed. His shoulders eased downward and the softest of sighs escaped. There was still underlying tension, most evident in the edges he filed into his tone, but at least he seemed to be responding to Vince’s ministrations.
“And he’d be right. We don’t. We do what feels good.”
“But—” Lee groaned as Vince’s fingers slipped to the very back of his skull and his thumbs up to his temples, just in front of his ears. He didn’t apply a lot of pressure. A small amount in the right places was all it took. “You hold the flogger, huh?” Lee asked, voice a little breathless and trembling just under the surface.
Vince massaged in silence for another moment, then took his hands away, crossing them in his lap, waiting until Lee opened his eyes. When he did, he seemed mesmerized, because he didn’t look away. “Why do you ask?” Vince asked. “Why does it matter to you?”
After a few heartbeats, Lee shook his head. “It doesn’t?” He blinked, eyes wide, lips parted. Cornered badger.
“Well. How about this: once you know if it matters to you, and you’ve figured out why it matters, you can ask that question again.”
Lee’s eyes narrowed. “And fuck you too.”
Vince just shrugged. He’d sort of expected something like that. “Don’t swear.”
“Full of yourself much?”
“Because you’re never full of yourself.” Vince rose and gazed down on him. “Just remember that in this house, I’m the one who’s earned the right to be.”
Lee stared at him.
“How’s your head?”
After a slow blink and a moment of thoughtful silence, Lee rolled his head from one side to the other. “Better.”
“Good.”
Another long, loaded silence thickened the air of the small room. Finally, Lee looked away. “Thank you.”
Vince smiled. His fingers twitched to sweep aside a bit of black hair that had flopped over Lee’s eyes. He wanted to know if Lee’s near-black eyes had softened any. He managed to resist the urge, though. They definitely weren’t there yet. “You’re welcome. Pete will come and let you know when the food’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
“Happy to do it, Lee.” Because he was. They both were. But, sometimes, it took a while for a feral creature to accept kindness for kindness’s sake.
Their meal had been mostly pleasant. Lee had barely snarked at all, which was good because his sharp tongue seemed to make Vince tense, and Pete didn’t want Vince to be tense. After they’d eaten, Lee had actually offered to help clean up. Of course, Vince didn’t let him, but told him to go lie down and apply more ice.
Lee didn’t argue very hard, and it was clear why. Pain sculpted hard lines around his mouth and pinched at the corners of his tired eyes, leaching any happiness from his face. When Pete went in to help him change the ice pack, he was asleep.
“Think he’ll be out for the night?” Pete asked, glancing at his watch as he returned. Somehow, it had made it to a little after five, and he’d barely noticed.
“Hopefully. He hasn’t slept a lot over the past few days. Believe it or not, he’s doing a lot better than he was.”
“He needs to see a doctor, though.”
“And he will. Blaire ordered him to make an appointment, and then ordered me to take him.”
“Your boss is . . .” Pete chuckled. “Bossy.”
“We have a staff of three. We can’t afford casualties. Plus. Blaire’s a good guy who spent the better part of the last year rearranging his entire lif
e around this business and a partner who has a tendency to work himself into the ground.”
“The chef?”
“Yeah. Frederic. He put himself in the hospital, and it took him some time to fully recover. After watching what Frederic went through, Blaire is strict about work hours and health stuff. It’s not a bad way for a boss to be. We have excellent health coverage. Which, by the way, he told me to talk to you and make sure you have all the coverage you need with your work. If you don’t, we’re supposed to see if—”
“I don’t want to talk about health insurance, Vince.”
“Oh?” Vince lifted his eyebrows. “That so?”
Pete stared at him. He hadn’t thought, before now, how easy Vince had made it on him to ask for what he wanted. He never had to utter a word. Just lay the object of his desire on the spare bed and let Vince take it from there. Now maybe he’d have to ask, and the words got trapped in the flutter of his nerves and slipped from his grasp.
“Come here.” Vince held out a hand. “I put pain killers, towels, and Lee’s luggage in the spare room. I left one of your rice heating bags on the side table with instructions if he wants heat instead now. He has everything he needs for the night.”
“Okay.”
Vince pulled Pete’s glasses off and put them aside, then snugged Pete against him. The scent of Vince’s cologne wrapped around Pete. He closed his eyes, barely breathing, waiting for Vince’s touch.
“You are so tense,” Vince whispered.
“You were gone almost a week.”
“You’ve been gone longer than that, once or twice. It never made you shake.”
Pete hadn’t been aware until Vince said it that he was, in fact, vibrating all over, a low hum like an over-tuned instrument. “I don’t have time to get tense when I’m working. I have things to concentrate on.” Working on an off-set shoot was always more fraught than a regular day.
“And I was gone all this time, longer than we’d planned, and shut up in a hotel room with Lee.”
Pete swallowed, pushing aside the question that statement brought up. Logically, he knew that unless Lee was a damn good actor, there was no chance he and Vince had done more than bitch at one another and switch out ice packs.
“Ask,” Vince commanded, albeit gently.
Pete shook his head.
“I said to ask. We don’t hide from each other. This doesn’t work if we do.”
Vince was right, of course. “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“No. I know you didn’t. He wasn’t in any shape.”
“You can still ask. I won’t be offended.” Vince ran a hand down the side of Pete’s face. His thumb ghosted over Pete’s lips, there and gone before Pete could kiss or suck it in. He pouted.
“Ask, Pete.”
“Would you have? If he’d been able?”
“Open your eyes, babe.”
Pete did instantly, unaware he’d let them drift closed. He’d been so intent on the feel of Vince’s hand on him, everything else had faded into the void. It was a thing Vince always had to remind him of. He got lost in his head sometimes when Vince wanted him to pay attention.
“First, it was a business trip, so, ah, no. Not appropriate. Second, as much as we’ve mused about a third, we always said we would do it together.”
Pete pursed his lips, and Vince pressed his thumb against the bottom one briefly.
“If we did it, I would never start something with someone without talking to you, never when I’m away from you. So again, no.” He cupped both hands around Pete’s nape to hold him still. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t do it.”
“You want—”
“I want you to be happy. Right now, when it’s still just you and me, that’s my priority. If we have someone else, who knows how it will look, but I won’t even entertain the idea unless you truly want it for you. Not just because I want it.”
“But I’m not enough.” Pete’s gut clenched. He hadn’t intended to say that aloud. But the way Vince held him, so securely, seeing right into him, he didn’t think he could really hide it anyway.
“Baby, you are more than enough. And if that’s the only reason you’re entertaining the idea of a third—”
“No.” Pete smiled at him. “No, you know it’s not. Just . . .” He glanced at his feet for an instant, but raised his face before Vince had to prompt him. “Both of us have had attractions to other guys. We’ve talked about this.” He quirked his lips. “It’s all been theory before. Not worth pursuing for a physical attraction, but . . .”
“But?”
“This is different, isn’t it?”
Vince was quiet for a long time, studying Pete’s lips, his cheekbones, brushing a finger over one eyebrow, and playing with a curl, pulling it straight and letting it spring back.
Gently, Pete took is hand, kissed his knuckles, and waited for Vince to meet his gaze. “I know you. You brought him home with you, Vince. And yeah, he is pretty hot. When he isn’t trying to bite our hands off like a wild thing.”
“So . . . you just want to fuck him because he’s hot.”
“And feed him, because he’s too skinny. And play with his hair because yowzah. Look at it. Don’t you want to run your fingers through that mop? And I want him for you because, let’s face it, I’m not much of a challenge. You say, ‘Down boy,’ and I’ve got my legs in the air.” He grinned, because this was true.
Vince grinned too. “This is a thing,” he agreed. “And since you brought it up . . .”
“Doggy style or missionary?”
Vince laughed out loud. “Over the back of the couch if we didn’t have company. Come on.” He took Pete’s hand and led him toward the bedroom. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for doing you in the shower or something.”
“Can I scrub you?”
“I smell like cheap peanuts and baggage claim. Scrub away.”
Pete hadn’t missed that Vince had avoided the actual question. He didn’t press, because to his mind, the avoidance was the answer. Vince wanted more of Lee than a quick fuck or even a play session or two. When they first got together, they’d had some threesomes, but never at home. This was their sanctuary, and Vince was scrupulous about who was allowed access, especially for more than a meal or cup of coffee. That Lee was here—and staying—said a lot.
Now, however, Pete wanted what Vince was offering. The question of Lee could wait.
It didn’t take them long to strip and step into the huge, glass-walled enclosure under steaming water. Pete took his time soaping Vince up, careful to get into every crevice and lingering over his favorite patches of Vince’s skin.
It was heady to have Vince pinned against the wall, panting as Pete lapped at a nipple. For a little while, Pete had all the control, sucking bits of Vince up between his teeth, leaving behind bright splotches of color on Vince’s pale body. Vince loved this attention to detail, and though he never said anything, Pete had seen him examining the marks in the mirror more than once. He liked having the reminder of Pete’s attention bloom on his body. Pete liked to see his marks there too.
Once Pete had thoroughly soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed Vince from head to navel, he dropped to his knees to start on his feet and work up, saving the best parts for last. It was gratifying to have that close-up view of Vince’s erection, thickening the closer Pete’s slippery hands got to the prize.
“You’re killing me,” Vince mumbled as Pete slipped soapy hands up a thigh, one between his legs, the other up over his ass. “Pete . . .”
Pete grinned and let his fingers meet in the middle, playing gently at Vince’s entrance. Pete didn’t top. He didn’t like to. But Vince enjoyed a bit of butt play, and that, Pete was happy to indulge.
“Oh. Fuck.” Vince’s back thumped against the tiles as he parted his legs wider. “Balls?” he whispered.
“Sure.” Pete stroked a finger over his sac, then splashed water at Vince’s privates until the soap had been rinsed away. Leaning close, h
e pulled one of Vince’s balls into his mouth. The heat between Vince’s legs was incredible. His own shaft thickened as Vince moaned above him and lifted a leg, propping his foot on the water spout to make access easier.
Pete slipped a finger into his mouth next to Vince’s ball, slavering it up good, then moving it back to Vince’s hole. Carefully, he prodded until the muscle gave and he was in.
Vince groaned and rolled his hips. His hands slid into Pete’s hair, fingers gripping tight.
The sharp sensation rippled down from Pete’s scalp along his spine, and he hummed in satisfaction. He released Vince from his mouth to concentrate on the other ball, treating it to a bit of suction and light tugging until Vince was babbling and kneading at his scalp, pulling randomly at his hair. His cock bounced and slapped against Pete’s cheek, and Pete stroked it a few times.
He didn’t get far there, however. Vince grabbed his hand, lifting it away, holding tight to his wrist. “Gonna fuck you with that. Don’t make me come.”
Pete accepted this. His body flushed at the thought, and he speared his finger up a little farther into Vince’s body, wiggling it around until he found the exact right spot.
Vince shouted and jerked, snarling as he pulled hard on Pete’s hair.
Pete popped off his ball and let Vince drag him away and to his feet by that grip. The pain shot down over his skin like sheet lightning, and he gasped, swayed, then caught himself with a hand on the wall over Vince’s shoulder.
“Bed,” Vince ordered. “Need to be in you.”
“Kay.” Pete barely had breath for the one syllable. He shut off the water with shaking hands, turned, and grabbed towels. Vince was pushing him from behind, keeping him moving so he didn’t have time to dry off. He chucked the towels over the bed in a frenzy as Vince shoved him stomach down onto the bed.
“Spread.” Vince slapped his ass, then sprawled over him to grab lube from the bedside table.
Lifting his ass up enough to make this work, Pete braced himself. This wasn’t going to be a methodical prep. He didn’t care. He was ready for the ripping delight of pain-pleasure that meant Vince couldn’t wait to be inside. It was a rare enough occurrence he didn’t dare do anything that would interrupt it.