by Riley Hart
“It’s okay, baby. I know it’s your favorite, but remember, we all have different tastes and that’s what makes everyone special.” Really, I had no fucking clue it was his favorite until Raymond brought the subject up. “I’ll see it with you anytime you want.”
“Thank you for restoring my faith in humanity.” Gary looks my way and smiles. We haven’t talked business at all yet tonight. I haven’t wanted to be the one to bring it up, but I have to admit, I’m feeling a little on edge. It’s obvious they’re having a good time, though. The conversation hasn’t slowed at all, and Gary has played his role well. There’s a part of me that thinks if this happens, it will be because they like him so much, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Thankful, obviously, but there’s a little twist of discomfort there too.
Steven asks about family. I tell them I’m the oldest of three boys, and my parents and siblings are all in Atlanta. It’s not a subject I’m real excited to discuss, and the nerves eating away at my gut just spread more. The last thing I want is pity. If I get this investment, I don’t want it to be because my parents—well, mom and stepfather—want nothing to do with me because I won’t deny who I am. I want it to be because they respect the work I do and have faith in my ability…or I guess because they think I have a boyfriend they like.
“What about you, Gary?” Steven asks. I feel him briefly tense up and wonder what that’s about.
“My mother and father are just outside the city, up in Ashwood County. I have one sister.” I didn’t know that about him. He also probably didn’t know about my brothers. It makes me realize that, in a lot of ways, we’re still strangers. We live in the same complex and were thrust together into this partnership, but we don’t really know anything about each other.
This shit could go really fucking wrong.
More than that, I realize I’m curious about the set of his shoulders when family was mentioned. Does he love theater or just Les Mis? Why the hell is he like Jekyll and Hyde when it comes to sex?
Gary and Raymond break off into their own conversation. Steven watches his partner for a moment, and I can see the love and devotion for him in the way he looks at him. It makes me shift in my seat to look at Gary. He’s smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen him smile, talking animatedly with his hands. Raymond reaches over and touches his hand and laughs at what Gary said.
I’ve never seen this side of him before, though I guess I haven’t seen most sides of Gary. It makes me curious about him, makes intrigue dig its claws in a little deeper. For some reason, I want to know more about him. What makes him tick?
“They get along well,” Steven says, pulling my thoughts from Gary and Raymond.
“They do. Raymond is great.”
“He is.” Steven grins. “As is Gary. I know the two of you haven’t been together long, but you make a lovely couple.”
We’re not a couple. We’re lying, drifts through my head. My hand tightens on Gary’s shoulder.
“I know it may seem like I’m dicking you around—making you come here tonight, but I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t interested in doing business with you, Travis.”
For the first time since dinner started—hell, maybe for the first time since the pool party, I feel like I can breathe.
“Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear that. I love what I do. There’s nothing I take more seriously than my career. If we move forward together, and I hope we will, I want you to know there’s not a harder worker than me. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll make sure it’s a worthwhile investment for you. I’ve…I’ve given up a lot to be where I am.”
“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished so far,” he says, and I am. I really fucking am, but, Jesus, does it feel good to hear someone else tell me that…and there’s a part of me that feels like it’s not enough.
“I’m proud, but I want more.”
He winks at me. “Most good businessmen do. That’s a good sign. I have a proposition for you.”
My first instinct is to tell him it sounds kinky because I’ve always had a dirty mind, but I hold back. “I’m listening.”
“Raymond and I are putting together a fundraiser that’s happening in a few weeks. It’s in your neighborhood, at Flirt. Fundraising is incredibly important to Raymond—well, both of us, but him especially. He had it hard when he was younger, and this is his way to give back.”
“That’s very honorable,” I tell him, meaning it.
“I agree. It’s why I love him so much, but anyway, I have some information, if you’d like to look it over. I was thinking we could use this as a sort of trial run. Maybe you—and Gary if he’s interested”—he looks Gary’s way, and I glance over to see Gary turn to Steven as well—“if you’re interested, we can work on the fundraiser together. I have upcoming business trips, so it’s a lot for Raymond to handle on his own. If everything goes well and if the way we do business fits well with one another, maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement to move forward with your venture.”
For a second, I’m not sure if I heard him correctly. This is it. My chance. I fucking know it. I know jackshit about fundraisers, but I’ll do whatever I need to prove myself.
“Absolutely. I can help in any way. What do you think, Travis?” Gary asks and damned if there isn’t sincerity in his eyes. I don’t know if it’s because this is something he really wants to do or because it’s important to him to help me, but I see it there.
“Yeah…yeah, I think that’s a great idea. Whatever you guys need, Gary and I are in.” Then I pull him toward me and press a quick kiss to his forehead, hoping like hell I look like a good boyfriend, but also really hoping to show him how grateful I am…and maybe I’m realizing that I just like kissing Gary too.
Damned if he doesn’t almost look like he’s blushing.
13
Gary
It’s just Travis, I remind myself as he pulls away from the kiss on my forehead. It stirs this warm feeling within me. A feeling I might have had when I was with Peter. It’s not something I can control. Just some knee-jerk reaction my body has to the seemingly affectionate kiss. It’s part of his act, but I’m certain he can see me blushing.
I’m not like him. I don’t like people knowing what I’m feeling.
I try to play off my awkwardness by grabbing my glass of Chardonnay and taking another sip.
Empty.
It’s only my first glass, but I feel lovely right now.
I guess I got so absorbed in my conversation with Raymond I forgot about drinking.
“Here, I’ve got you,” Steven says, pouring me another glass. He chuckles and looks to Travis. “Don’t you worry. I’ve been topping your boyfriend’s drink off all night.”
I exchange a worried look with Travis, who appears not to have noticed either. I’m sure he was so busy trying to impress Steven that he didn’t see him steadily pouring wine to the point that I’m now feeling really good. Really, really good.
I pretend to take another sip but then set the glass down quickly.
They’re going to think I’m a wino.
But as I look to Travis, his smirk suggests he’s amused more than anything.
Fortunately, we only stay a few minutes longer before Steven pays the bill and escorts us out to the front. I’m not stumbling or anything, so I couldn’t have gone too far overboard with the drinking.
When the valet brings Steven’s Audi around, Raymond fishes through the back and grabs a packet about the fundraiser. He passes it to Travis, who he says he’ll touch base with over the next few days. After they drive off, Travis turns to me and says, “Sorry to rope you into the fundraiser.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Peter was always the sort who helped out because he found fundraisers were a great way of being social or being seen by the right people. It was very insincere…self-serving. Kinda made me sick when he’d talk about them because he made it clear he cared more about who was bringing the most money to the party than he did people’s desire to help o
ut with an important cause. I didn’t get that impression with Raymond, and considering how much behind-the-scenes work I did with Peter to help put together fundraising events, I feel like some of these skills could actually come in handy and help out someone who’s passionate about all this.”
He appears impressed by my long-winded response.
“Sorry, I’m kind of drunk,” I say. “Not like really drunk but a little tipsy. I think that’s why I started harassing Raymond about the musicals. I mean, he’s great and all, but who doesn’t like Les Mis?”
“How well does Peter know them? I mean, he’s on the board with them, right?”
“Yeah, but they’re not the kind of guys he would hang around. I mean, he would be impressed with their money, and he probably plays kissy-face with them when they’re out, but Steven and Raymond are pretty down-to-earth, and from what I can tell, they have a pretty good bullshit detector.”
“Obviously not that good,” Travis says.
That’s right. I forgot the entire dinner was about duping them, and now I feel bad. They’re really nice guys. The kind of guys I’d enjoy hanging out with outside of our farce of a relationship. It’d be fun to talk to Raymond about musicals, but it makes me sad knowing this entire dinner was based on a hoax. I try to remind myself it’s not a terrible lie. Travis isn’t a bad person. Just a guy who needs some cash to start a business that will end up benefiting Steven, too. But this whole idea was a lot easier when I didn’t know how cool Steven and Raymond were.
I try to suppress my guilt while the valet fetches Travis’s car. As Travis drives us back to Metropolis, I pump my mouth full of breath spray, anticipating where this is going. Travis swipes it from me to refresh as well. Clearly, we’re on the same page.
***
“I didn’t know you were such a fan of musicals,” Travis says as we head down the hall toward my unit.
I start into my rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream.” I turn to him, and he looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“What? You don’t know Les Mis either?”
“I know the song but never seen the musical.”
“How is that even possible? Oh, I love the Ruthie Henshall version the best. Such passion. Such power in her voice.”
His brows pinch together. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Really? Your mouth-speak isn’t making sense anymore. Les Mis isn’t just a good musical. It’s a look at the world as it really is. Warts and all. It’s love and happiness and joy and misery, hopelessness and grief all in one. It’s the total expression of the human experience.”
“Oh, okay.” I can tell by the way Travis is looking at me that he doesn’t believe me, and I’m slightly overenthusiastic about this right now. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s cute that you’re into musicals. Just never been my thing.”
“You might as well be speaking another language,” I say as we reach my unit. I retrieve my key, continuing “I Dreamed a Dream” under my breath as I start to unlock the door. Travis sets his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says softly in a sincere voice that doesn’t hold the cocky swagger he often speaks with.
He pulls on my arm, and before I know it, I’m facing him, and he’s kissing me, pushing me back against the door.
A powerful heat fills my cheeks—a sensation I’m sure is being helped along by the Chardonnay.
I’m even less inhibited than the first time we fucked. I’m curious to have another go and appreciative that Travis wants to explore that intense passion with me again.
His mouth opens wide as he offers powerful kisses like he’s determined to show me how good a kisser he is—something that’s self-evident. As my thoughts dissolve, I’m totally immersed in this experience, only able to focus on his subtle movements—his nips, the flick of his tongue, his nose running across my cheek.
When he finally breaks our kiss, he gazes into my eyes with the same intensity we shared that first time. “If you’re going to sing, I’d rather it be in the bedroom.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrow.
I like how free I feel around him, especially about sex. How I can let loose without having to worry about him judging me or thinking I’m this guy who goes around fucking everything that moves. He likely doesn’t care considering that’s his thing anyway.
He’s so fucking hot all dressed up in that pink shirt and black tie. But right now, these clothes are fucking obstacles. Annoying fucking obstacles.
I lunge at him, kissing him powerfully. He stumbles to the other side of the hall, slamming back against my neighbor’s door.
I’m hardly thinking about that as I loosen his tie with one hand. He doesn’t fight me as I hastily open his shirt, moving from the top down. As I get a few buttons undone, I kiss from his neck to his chest.
His flesh tastes so good—tastes as good as the first time I got to enjoy it. I’m so fucking frustrated that there’s so much of this shirt left to unbutton.
“Fuck it,” he says.
He yanks the bottom of his shirt out of his pants, grips the placket and rips it open. His buttons shoot across the hall as I slide my hands around his torso and kiss down his body.
I can see why he’s fucked around town as much as he has.
This body, these muscles…it would be selfish for anyone to have these all to themselves—at least for more than a night—and I’m glad that tonight’s my turn.
God, why are we wearing so many goddamn clothes?
I grab my bow tie and yank it off before undoing the top of my shirt and pulling it open forcefully like he did, the buttons popping off in every direction.
I stand back briefly as I work to get out of it as fast as I can.
I get it down back as far as the cufflinks, where I get stuck. I struggle with the lock on them, but they’re not as easy to undo.
As I turn my attention from my failed attempts back to Travis, I see those eyes again. Filled with hunger and passion as he glances at me, up and down like he’s totally shocked.
It takes me a moment to remember we’re still in the hall.
In my obsession with his body—having him, being with him, touching all over him—I’d totally forgotten where we were and how wildly inappropriate this is. How anyone could walk out and see what we’re doing at any second.
But as he rushes me again—pushing me back against my door, my wrists still bound behind my back by the shirt’s cufflinks—I find myself lost in a series of passionate kisses once again.
He strokes one hand up my abdomen and reaches around, grabs the sleeves of the shirt, and twists so the cufflinks pull together.
He breaks our kiss and leans back. I’m lost in those hazel eyes, shimmering with the overhanging orange lights. There’s something fierce in his gaze. If I didn’t know from our other experiences how sexual that gaze was, I’d say he was about to deck me.
His mouth barely moves as he says, “You’re gonna have to tell me if I cross a line.”
I lean toward him, and I don’t know what possesses me, but I take his earlobe between my teeth—gently. I nibble on it for a moment, his deep groan assuring me he’s enjoying my work. I release his lobe long enough to whisper, “I don’t bruise easily, Travis.”
I start to back away when his lips meet mine again. He clings to the sleeves of the shirt, keeping my hands bound behind me as he kisses down my neck—licking, sucking. It’s the same passion as the first time, but there’s something even wilder about Travis now. Something I can’t quite explain.
14
Travis
“Get inside.” I reach around him, turn the key and unlock the door before shoving it open. My dick aches. My balls are so fucking full. My chest heaves in and out. He’s got me so amped up, so goddamned hungry to watch the quiet, shy man transform into the whimpering, sex-starved boy who wants nothing more than a cock in his ass and to be rode hard.
He does as I say, stumbling into his condo. It’s not fas
t enough for me, so I pick him up, kick the door closed behind me, and carry him toward his room. The position is awkward with his arms behind his back, but I think I like keeping him helpless like this.
“Oh shit,” I hear Jacob say as we make our way down the hall. “Have fun!” he calls, but I ignore him.
“Next time, we go to my place.” It doesn’t escape my attention I’m telling him there will be a next time, but, Jesus, he’s a hot fuck. It’s like now that I’ve had him, I can’t get enough. Why the hell shouldn’t we enjoy the sexual benefits of our partnership?
“Holy shit. I can’t believe Jacob just saw us.” He leans forward, burying his face against me.
“I can invite him in to watch if you want.”
I manage to finagle opening his bedroom door while still holding him when he says, “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”
“Funny. I must know you better than you know me because I can hear the interest in your voice and know you feel like you should hide it.” I kick the bedroom door closed. “Fuck whoever told you that, Gary. Fuck whoever made you believe you should ever feel wrong or embarrassed about something you desire. You are who you are, and fuck anyone who wants you to hide any part of that person.” That’s something I will never do again.
I drop him to the bed. His legs hang over the side, his arms still trapped behind him. My heart speeds up as I look at him—his eyes blazing with want, his swollen cock a bulge behind his slacks. His forehead already glistens with sweat. He’s a combination of sex and innocence, looking up at me like he’s not sure what I’m going to do to him next but really fucking wanting to find out. “Christ, you’re gorgeous,” I tell him, slightly surprised the words came out.
While standing between his legs, I reach down and begin to work the button, then the zipper on his slacks. Hooking my fingers in his pants and underwear, I pull them down, but leave them around his ankles. He still has his shoes on as well. “I’ll just leave you trapped right there.”