Syncopation

by Jodi Payne

  “You know it.” He got himself naked and then led Kyle to the bathroom, one arm around Kyle’s waist. No falling, after all.

  “Oh, it’s kind of tight in here. We’re gonna have to get close, lover boy.” Kyle smiled and kissed him.

  Such a problem that was. He chuckled and muscled right up, rubbing in the best way.

  “Mmm. That’s very nice.” He had Kyle pretty well pinned, which seemed to suit his lover just fine. Kyle stuck fingers in his hair and tipped his head back under the spray. “That’s nice too.” He felt a hot tongue run up his neck to just under his ear.

  “Yeah….” Oh, this was the best way to end a night—booze and green and a nice fuck.

  Kyle got hold of the shampoo and worked it into his hair, taking his time, massaging it into his scalp and down the back of his neck, humming softly something he recognized from the show. Everything began to tingle, his cock filling slowly, steadily as Kyle loved on him.

  “I love the smell of your shampoo, baby.”

  He closed his eyes as Kyle angled him back under the spray, the soapy water slipping over his skin. Kyle rubbed the suds into his chest, down his side and around to his ass, fingers digging in.

  “You… I want to know every inch of you.” More than that, he’d give up all of himself.

  Kyle nodded. “Go ahead. Have every inch.” He let Colt go, eyes soft with alcohol and arousal. Colt started washing, making sure to spend time on the little hot spots, the places that made Kyle arch and moan.

  Kyle reached down and took a firm hold of his own cock, and Colt watched it fill and stretch in that knowing grip. Kyle groaned and started to stroke, eyes sliding closed.

  Lord have mercy, that was enough to make his mouth dry.

  “Mmm.” Kyle leaned back against the shower wall and swallowed hard, throat working and that Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Look at you.” He reached out, dragging one finger along the slit.

  Kyle hissed. “You look… mm. And then you can have me.” That hand sped up, Kyle’s breath coming faster too.

  He cupped Kyle’s balls, rolled them, knowing how good that felt, how his picker’s fingers made things wild.

  “Baby, your hands are half-satin, half-sandpaper. Fuck.” Kyle’s measured breaths were shallow but steady, echoing a little against the tile. “Jesus.”

  He pushed behind, dragging along that sensitive strip of skin. “They love your skin.”

  “They can… have—” Kyle groaned and those hazel eyes popped open, locking on his and not letting go. “Oh, fuck.”

  He watched as Kyle’s shoulders tensed and that strong chest expanded, veins standing out under Kyle’s skin.

  “Yeah, cher. Jus’ so.” He repeated the gesture, dragging good and hard.

  With a long moan, Kyle’s hand started to fly, and Colt imagined that perfect grip doing everything just right—pressure, speed, heat, everything just the way Kyle needed it. “Yes. Mmm.” Kyle’s rhythmic breathing faltered, eyes sliding closed again. “Colt. Baby.”

  “You know it.” He leaned in, bit Kyle’s earlobe. “Give it up now.”

  “Fuck!” Kyle’s face pressed into his neck, hips jerking, and it wasn’t even a second before he was treated to that lovely shiver and sigh. “Colt… fuck.”

  “Mmm. Yeah. Love how you smell.”

  Kyle kissed him, leaning into him heavily, breathing hard, tasting like martini and olives and still a little tipsy. “You want me, baby? You can have whatever you want.”

  “Mmm. There ain’t a bit of you I don’t want. Let’s get your sweet ass to the bed.” That way he’d know whether Kyle was wanting or fixin’ to pass out. He could use his hand in the latter event. It was no big thing.

  But Kyle flirted plenty as they toweled off and led him by the hand to his bed, looking pretty steady on those talented feet. “You’ve been watching long enough, lover. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think.” He pushed in close, letting himself need all the way. “Shit, I know. I need you, cher.”

  Like breathing, if he was honest.

  “Yours.” Kyle kissed him, then turned and stretched out across his bed, lean muscle and inked, pale skin standing out against his sheets.

  “God.” He moaned as he ran his hands up along Kyle’s thighs. The single word was a plea and a blessing and a thank-you.

  “Let me ease you, baby. Come on.” Kyle reached for him, voice part whisper and part song.

  “Yeah.” He gloved up with shaking hands. He was so hard just that threatened to make him go over the edge.

  “Look at you. I got this.” Kyle snatched up the slick and flipped over onto his knees, giving Colt a little show as he got ready.

  “Jesus….” He grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed hard as he got the best show of his life.

  With a moan, Kyle’s hand fell away. “Colt.”

  “Uh-huh. Now, cher. I got a need. Now.” Please. Say it is time.

  Kyle nodded and arched back toward him. “Now. So ready.”

  Thank God for small favors. He surged forward, pressing into tight, breathtaking heat. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he grabbed hold of Kyle’s hips.

  Kyle cried out and reached back with one hand, digging long fingers into his thigh. He wasn’t seeing clearly, but he felt Kyle roll back to meet him, taking him even deeper.

  Colt had not a bit of grace left in him, not so much as a hint of it. All he could do was push and thrust and rock harder.

  It wasn’t long before he felt his lover give up trying to find a rhythm too.

  “Colt!” Kyle made fists in the covers, bracing and giving him something solid to work against, and together they filled the bedroom with sound—grunts and groans, begging and filthy affirmations.

  He stretched up over Kyle’s back, his forehead slick as he rested them together, driving in for a few more, restless thrusts before he grunted, the room spinning as he emptied his balls.

  Kyle panted out a couple of rough breaths and moaned, shifting under him. “Jesus Christ, baby.”

  “Uh-huh.” Right. No talking. Dizzy.

  They lay there for… a long time. Could have been hours, could have been two minutes. How would he know? Finally, he felt Kyle’s lips on one arm, dropping light kisses and warm nuzzles. “Okay, music man. You need to let me breathe. Slide over.” He thought about trying to move, but Kyle beat him to it, lifting up so he sort of slid off onto the bed. “Oh, I’m going to be deliciously sore in the morning.”

  “Uhn.” That was close to a yes, right?

  Kyle laughed and curled around him. “Good night, love.”

  “Love.” Yeah. Yeah, love. He closed his eyes, humming himself to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  KYLE WOKE up slowly, tangled up with Colt and buried under an unfamiliar comforter. It took him a little time to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there, and that came along with the realization that he was more than a little hungover.

  He shifted, stretching and grinning at an ache he was going to enjoy all day. Colt’s smooth, warm shoulder was right there, and he gave it a kiss. He’d be happy to stay here forever, but first he needed some water and some Tylenol.

  He could smell coffee—which was either good or bad, his stomach wasn’t sure. He pushed up, trying not to jostle Colt.

  Oh, hello. The windows in this room were tall and gorgeous, but Jesus, they let in a lot of light. He squinted toward the bedroom door, wondering how many steps it would take to get over there, and then slid out of bed, eyes shielded under one hand.

  He opened the door, groaning as blessed darkness surrounded him. Better. So much better.

  “Tylenol?” Timmy’s hand appeared under his nose.

  “Oh. Oh, yes. It’s the God of stupid dancers that drink too much.” He took the pills right out of Timmy’s hand. “How did you know?”

  “I was up getting caffeinated, dude. I heard you moving around.” Timmy looked like the cat with the canary. “You want coffee?”
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  He hesitated for a second, trying to get his fuzzy mind around the look on Timmy’s face. “Yes?” He nodded. “Yes. I need coffee. Colt is still sleeping. He’s tired. Do you have water too?” Do you have water? Really?

  “We do. And orange juice. Hell, I think Colt has a six-pack of Coke.”

  Just the words “orange juice” made his stomach flip over. “Just water’s good.” He sat at the kitchen table and let Timmy get him water and coffee. He took the Tylenol and prayed it worked fast, finishing the water with it. “Thanks, Timmy. Sorry. Good morning, by the way. I’ll be better in a minute. Why do you keep grinning at me?”

  As if he didn’t know. He wasn’t so drunk last night that he didn’t remember that shower, and Colt… God, Colt. He couldn’t remember ever being wanted like that before.

  “You’re smitten.”

  “Did you honestly just say smitten? What are you? Forty?”

  “Dude, that’s deflecting. You’re totally gone.” Timmy just kept grinning.

  “I don’t know about totally.”

  Timmy pinned him with a look. “Liar.”

  “Maybe.” He stared right back, but Timmy was either better at this, less hungover, or both. “He’s… like no one I’ve ever met, and we’re good together.”

  Timmy sat with him. “You love him?”

  “Oh, Timmy. You know me. I fall in love every day.”

  “True. He’s a good guy. One hell of a picker and a surprisingly good songwriter for a kid that never got past seventh grade.”

  “Wow. He didn’t tell me that.” Why would he? And what did it matter, anyway? What Colt had went way past schooling. You couldn’t learn what he did, the way he played. You had to be gifted it. Channel it or something. “He is a great guy. He might even be the right guy. The guy.”

  Kyle did fall in love every day. It just so happened that he’d fallen in love with the same guy every day since he met Colt.

  “Wow. That’s cool. I’m jealous. I’m still looking for two blowjobs in a row.”

  “I don’t understand that at all. You’re adorable.” And sweet. And a great friend. “I wouldn’t have met Colt if not for you.”

  “Adorable doesn’t get you fucked, my friend. Jacked off? Sure. Fucked? Not so much.”

  “That sucks.” The surfer-style California transplant wasn’t really his type, but it had to be somebody’s. “Patience? You can’t force this stuff. It’ll happen. I know I wasn’t expecting a Cajun blues artist to fall into my lap.”

  “Sort of literally. He’s adorable with you, you know.”

  “You think? He’s so interested in everything, it’s so much fun. He’s hot too, Timmy. Oh my God. I can’t believe you set us up and didn’t just keep him for yourself.”

  Timmy grinned at him. “He’s intense, bro, and we have to work together. That can get weird, you know?”

  “He’s intense for sure.” Colt had a ton of energy, but it wasn’t wild; it was always so focused. “I’ve hired him to do a live improv performance piece with me for my next exhibition, and also put down some tracks for a couple of the other numbers. You think it will get weird? I’ll want to arrange some studio time for him, by the way.”

  “I don’t know, but it sounds like I need to see it.”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell us it’s self-indulgent navel-gazing or something.” He laughed. It might be. He wasn’t sure he cared. Also, as long as Colt was busy, his lover wasn’t leaving town.

  “I’ve seen both of you. I’m sure I will.” Timmy winked at him and waggled knowing eyebrows.

  “He’s good here, right? I mean, it seems like he wants to stick around, stay in the city, right?” Oh, hangover head. He wouldn’t ask something like that if he had a filter, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He glanced over at the kitchen door, to make sure Colt wasn’t standing there. Hell, in for a penny…. “Has he said anything?”

  “About leaving? Nah. He says he has a couple of songwriter buds that are staying for two weeks and working with him, but he had his manager give me a check for six months’ rent.”

  “Oh. Cool. Good to know.” Really good to know, though he kind of felt shitty for asking. Like he was checking up. He could blame the hangover, right? “I’m going to bring him some coffee, okay?” He got up, gingerly as his head swam a little, and found two mugs.

  “He likes it sweet and creamy.”

  Like he didn’t know that.

  “Really appreciate the Tylenol, Timmy.” He picked up both coffees—his black, and Colt’s sweet coffee-flavored milk—and gave Timmy a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  Timmy snorted at him. “Yep. That’s me. Hope you feel better.”

  He laughed and headed back to Colt’s bedroom. He loved the high ceiling and the window seats; even the sunlight was better now that he’d had a sip of coffee.

  Colt was sleeping, tight, tiny ass in the air. Oh, that was a pretty sight. He put the coffee down, then settled in the sheets, running his hand along Colt’s butt.

  He smoothed his fingers up and over the rise of one cheek and down that perfect little curve to Colt’s lower back, then traced a slow line up Colt’s spine with one finger, feeling more than just the pull of his lover’s beautiful body. “I think I could wake up next to this every day,” he whispered, softly. “Next to you.”

  He really thought he could. Probably. Almost certainly. God, the idea was both stunning and terrifying.

  “Mmm.” Colt arched in a slow motion that screamed lazy pleasure. He watched the way Colt rippled, as if being drawn up by Kyle’s touch. Kyle cataloged that motion; one day he would use it.

  He kissed Colt’s shoulder, moving his fingers to work in slow, heavy circles over Colt’s back. He kept his voice low. “You’re something to look at, music man.”

  “Make me happy, cher, down to the ground.” Colt hummed, the sound soft and low, reminding him strangely of what he imagined a great cat would sound like.

  “People have told me that before, you know.” He smiled, tucking Colt against him. “But you, I believe.” Down to the ground, up to the moon. “I have coffee.”

  “I like coffee.” Colt rolled up to settle on his butt. “And I mean it.”

  He handed Colt the mug full of sugar and cream and watched as Colt took a sip. “Well, thank you, lover. I really do believe you.” It would be nice to understand it, but he could accept it as true for now without that. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, the bitter, dark flavor giving him a much-needed kick in the ass. “Ahh.”

  “Mm-hmm. Very much ahh. Makes me want to lick the air like a dog.”

  “What?” He laughed and then groaned. “Oh. The head. I’m a little hungover.” But getting better.

  “You get you some Tylenol? You were happy last night.”

  He smiled. “I was. I was better than happy. Timmy saved my ass this morning with Tylenol and the coffee, yes.” He leaned closer, rubbing shoulders with Colt. “You were on fire last night.”

  “It was fun, playing with you, watching you work. The after-work part was pretty amazing too, eh, cher? We had the bon temps, oui?” Colt leaned hard, inhaling his coffee.

  “Oui. We’re getting good at the bon temps.” He laughed, pleased to discover he didn’t feel so much like razor blades were slicing his brain to bits anymore. “What have you got planned today? Timmy said you have some buddies in town?”

  “Fixin’ to be, yeah. We’re gon’ get together and write on some songs, make some money, I hope.” Colt snuggled in. “Today I’m pretty free.”

  “Well, I have a show tonight, so at some point I need to head for my studio and work a little, but I don’t see any reason not to stay right here for a while and sip this coffee.” He put one arm around Colt’s shoulders, keeping his lover close.

  “What do you like to read about, cher? What’s your favorite kind of book?”

  “A cookbook. Who has time to read? I’m too busy being out there living. I want to do the things other people only read about.”
The last time he tried to actually read a book he fell asleep. “Are you a reader?”

  “Sure. I like stories, especially ones about places I ain’t seen.”

  “What kind of stories do you like? Mysteries? Love stories? Stories about real people? I’ve done a lot of traveling. I talk to people a lot, everywhere I go, and I do like when people tell me a story or something personal about where they live.” He sipped his coffee, already getting toward the bottom of the cup.

  “Oh, I just pick up ones that look good from the back. I’ve read all sorts on buses and trains and planes, sitting and waiting for another set. Where’s your favorite place to go?”

  “Anywhere that has a beach.” He grinned. “Bright sun, clear water, and warm sand do it for me. I could listen to the waves all day long. I love St. Barths, but it’s a pain to get there.”

  “I been to the Gulf a lot, all over it, and I been to LA.”

  “Oh, the Gulf is lovely. I’ve only been on the Florida side, but I loved it. The clear water, the white sand. Just lovely.” And the last resort he’d stayed at had Starbucks delivery in the morning if you ordered it the night before. Starbucks delivery. He almost didn’t leave.

  “Yessir. It makes a man feel small, but in a good way.” Colt began to stroke his belly, petting him.

  He nodded. “The city is like that too, but in a different way, you know? Waves everywhere. Of people, of light, of sounds—the subway, the traffic, music. Right?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s just perfect. I think I’m good here.”

  “Good. I’m not ready to let you go home.” He tried to hide how relieved he felt, but he wasn’t sure how well he was doing. “And I’m not the long-distance relationship type.” The one time he’d tried had been a complete disaster, and he wasn’t going to do that again.

  “Well, I got good work, so I intend to stay for a while. Timmy told me all about the wintertime here. I want to see the ice skating. I want to see the lights at Christmas.” Colt sounded like he was hypnotized, lazy and barely slurred.