Beautiful Boys

Beautiful Boys

Anne Cain

Beautiful Boys Copyright © August 2009 by Anne Cain All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ISBN 978-1-59632-995-9 Available in PDF, HTML, Microsoft Reader, and Mobi Editor: Barbara Marshall Cover Artist: Anne Cain Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***** DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

About this Title Genre: LGBT Erotic Contemporary Sometimes Dean is too hard-headed for his own good, and his brother, Neil, warns that he’s about to make a huge mistake. But when Dean refuses to back out of a Mediterranean vacation with the ex, he finds his stubborn ass stranded on a desert island. Hopefully the gorgeous, naked guy he discovers on the beach knows what Dean needs to get over the ex once and for all. Neil has his own issues. Destiny, the cosmos, and God-knows-what-else seem to have it in for him when it comes to romance. He’s too scared to a take a chance until the klutzy stripper at his birthday party reminds him how sweet love can be. The one catch? His new honey is named Jinx for a reason… Things aren’t much easier for their friends. Nathan has the hots for his tragically hetero roommate, and the two designers working for Neil’s magazine are so caught up in professional rivalry they don’t notice the sexual tension getting ready to go Pompeii between them! With eight quirky, beautiful boys and four chances for romance in this collection of interlocking stories about love, sex, and polyester rabbit’s feet, it’s going to be a hot summer. Publisher's Note: This book is a re-edited, revised compilation of several short stories previously released by another publisher and includes one new story. It also contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.

Prologue Lovers, Brothers, and Pains in the Ass

Lips, warm and moist, brushed across naked skin, a whisper of a caress with just a hint of friction to heat up the surface and inflame desire. A slip of tongue darted out to lap at the flesh here and there, always in just the right places, the hot and wet touch stirring an ache deep inside Dean's core until groan after groan of pure, passionate need spilled out of him. He writhed on the bed, exposing more of himself to those wickedly delicious strokes, the pulsing in his groin deepening. The tongue play didn't feel like a tease, but it was a promise of the other wonderful sensations to come as soon as his lover settled his attentions on the one spot that would drive Dean absolutely crazy. “Mmm, Stephen…” Dean moaned. The name hadn't quite finished slipping past his lips before the sound of it jarred Dean awake. For a dazed, disoriented moment, he stared over at the empty space next to him on the bed, wondering why he could see the alarm clock on the nightstand when Stephen's broad, gym-toned shoulders usually blocked the view. Then all the memories came rushing back to him, pushing out the pleasant, sexy echoes of the erotic dream. “Oh, right,” Dean mumbled to himself, groggy. Now he remembered. Stephen was gone and had been for a month. Now that had been a fight. A lover's quarrel for the ages—complete with name calling, pushing, shoving, and yelling. All the good stuff that made breakups so entertaining for the neighbors to listen in on. He wondered if the hetero couple he shared his bedroom wall with had been getting an earful just now. The drywall was pretty thin, and he'd

2

Anne Cain

been moaning pretty loud in contrast. He sat up in bed and listened. The soft, consistent, and undeniably recognizable thumping traveled through the wall. Yeah, they were having sex. At least he'd been able to turn someone on and inspire a little bedroom amore tonight. “Fuck.” Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight, and he didn't want to stay and listen to the sounds of copulation for the next hour or so. That was one thing about the Johnsons—they didn't seem to fuck very often, but when they did, it went on forever. Is that what Stephen and I had sounded like? Dean wondered as he trudged to the bathroom, naked. He stood over the toilet, his hard-on in hand, and squeezed the thick shaft. A shiver coursed through him, and it shocked him how badly he wanted to satisfy that urge for sex he'd ignored for the past four weeks. Sure, he'd jacked off plenty of times after the breakup to prove he didn't need his ex. His right hand had been his best friend since the seventh grade, but it wasn't the same. Loving someone more than you cared to admit had a funny way of changing sex into a deep, meaningful experience that mattered a million times more than any self-gratification or one-night stand ever could. That's what had really made the erotic dream so damn powerful: it brought into relief just how much he still cared for that son of a bitch. Now that wasn't fair. He'd known Stephen was a playboy before they'd started dating, and Stephen had even warned him an exclusive relationship wasn't something he wanted. Dean had overestimated his ability to deal with that. Or rather, he'd underestimated his ability to fall in love so hard he didn't want his lover to be with anyone else. By insisting so much that they be monogamous, he'd tried to change Stephen, hadn't he? Then again, he'd been up front with his needs too. All he'd asked was that Stephen not bring another man to the town house. Sure, Dean could've exercised better control over his temper, but the sight of his lover in bed with that twink from Club Rio mashed a fist on all Dean's buttons at once.

Beautiful Boys

3

Hence, the lover's quarrel for the ages. Dean gave his now-soft cock a gentle tug and relieved himself instead. No halfhearted attempt to masturbate tonight. Taking his bathrobe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, he slipped into the terry cloth, still damp from his shower earlier. Downstairs, he made himself a cup of decaf and stretched out on the couch with the day's mail, which he'd only skimmed through earlier. The magazine his brother worked on out of Austin made its way to the top of the pile, and Dean flipped through the glossy rag. A lot of art shows and concerts were going on over in that crazy town, and he considered heading down there for a weekend getaway, maybe to gripe about shit with his equally crazy brother. Getaway…fuck. Dean had managed to make himself forget about the Mediterranean holiday he'd planned with Stephen last year. The whole package was paid for; they'd split the costs and everything long before the breakup loomed on the horizon. But Dean had the tickets here in the town house. He was curious if Stephen even remembered about their trip. Apparently, the man did. Dean found a letter in the stack of mail addressed to him from Stephen. The formality of the gesture rubbed Dean, very much a rancher boy at heart no matter what executive management position he held at the financial center, the wrong way. Especially since he knew exactly how many dimples the man had on his butt cheeks and how red his cock turned when kissed on just the right place where the thick, corded veins disappeared under the wrinkled folds of Stephen's foreskin. “Enclosed is a check for your portion of the vacation package,” Dean read aloud. “I'm purchasing those tickets and reservations, as I have plans to take the trip with someone else. Please forward them to me immediately.” The little prick. Someone else? What if Dean himself had had plans to go with someone else? More importantly, since when was there someone else Stephen would want to go on the trip with?

4

Anne Cain

Growling, Dean set his coffee on the table and tossed the letter beside it. He grabbed the phone and punched in Stephen's number. When he got voice mail, he hung up and dialed again. After six rings in total, Stephen finally picked up. “Hello?” His slurred voice carried over the line. “I'm using the tickets,” Dean barked. “Who the hell—” Stephen was starting to wake up. “Dean, is that you? It's three o'clock in the fucking morning.” “I said I'm using the tickets and going on the vacation.” Dean angrily tapped the couch's armrest. “I'm returning your check in tomorrow's mail.” There was a brief moment of silence before Stephen let out a flustered sigh. “Don't be stupid. You don't have anyone to go with.” “I'm going for myself. You can stay home if you like. I'll buy out your reservations.” “No, I want to go.” Stephen was starting to sound pissed off. That was certainly one trait they both shared: they were stubborn as hell when angry. “But I know you're not going to have a good time, so I'm trying to be nice by giving you a chance to wash your hands of the situation.” Trying to be nice? Dean chortled into the phone. “I can have at least as good a time as you.” A loud, sarcastic laugh bellowed over the line. Whoever Stephen was in bed with grumbled for him to be quiet because he needed to get up early for work. Stephen ignored the man. “Suit yourself, Dean. But don't blame me when you're miserable sitting alone in the fucking hotel room.” With that, he hung up. “Fine.” Dean snorted. Stephen thought he had Dean all figured out, did he? If that were true, then he would've realized that the reason they'd fought so much was because Dean had loved him so much. But none of that meant anything to Stephen. The shallow guy only cared about getting laid by as many

Beautiful Boys

5

men as possible—love never came into the equation. Well, Dean wasn't going to be the only fool left behind to nurse a broken heart that didn't deserve to be broken in the first place. He just had to make sure he wasn't crazy first.

***** “You're crazy.” Neil cocked a brow at his brother. “Actually, I think you're fucking insane.” “Really?” Dean frowned. He had this funny habit of cocking his head to one side and looking at people he disagreed with like antlers were growing out of their heads. Neil assumed that was a trait most older siblings developed over time, since a lot of people in the office who were firstborns also tended to do it. “Sure.” Neil gestured around his cluttered cubicle. The latest print proofs for the upcoming issue of Cityscape lay out on his desk beside stacks of takeout containers from the nearby health-food bistro. There were bits of alfalfa over the Tommy Hilfiger ad spread on page four. He brushed the green flecks away with an annoyed glance at his brother. “You drove four hours to tell me you're going on a Mediterranean vacation with your sex-addicted ex. You are crazy.” “Well.” Dean scratched at the hint of stubble on his chin. “That's only part of the reason I drove down here. I wanted to spend some time with you before I leave, since I'm going to miss your birthday.” Neil jumped in his seat. “Shut up! We're not going to talk about that.” He shiftily glanced around the office to make sure no one had been in earshot. “I've made it through three years in this place with no one planning any stupid birthday parties at the office or a lame-ass karaoke bar. I'd like to keep it that way.” “Really?” There was the antlers-growing-on-head look again. “Dean, please.” Neil rubbed his eyes. “I'm just not in the mood, all right?” “Okay, okay,” Dean conceded. “But Mom and Dad are going to want you to stop by the ranch sometime this month to say hi. You know how mom is—she

6

Anne Cain

won't be happy until she can make you a nice meal or a cake for your birthday.” “I know.” Neil sighed, weary from a zillion things he couldn't quite name or put his finger on. “I'm avoiding it. She'll ask if I'm seeing someone and blah, blah, blah.” “Hey, we're lucky we have parents who care and are supportive.” “Duh.” Neil tossed a crumpled piece of paper at his brother's head. “I just don't want her to know that I'm not…” He paused, searching for the right words. Usually he was pretty good with them, having once considered being a comic-book writer back at the age of seven and a half. Unfortunately, nothing dry or cool came to mind, though he would've settled for “wittily tart” if he'd had at least that. “I'm not…” He started and trailed off again. “Not happy?” Dean volunteered. The man was too astute for his own good. “No,” Neil snapped. “I was going to say, 'not involved with anyone at the moment.'” There, that seemed like a viable enough defense. Somewhat. Dean opened his mouth to say more, and Neil realized the man wasn't going to let the topic go. That was what good brothers did. They kept at an issue until they either helped work it out or became the biggest nuisances to ever walk the face of the earth. Neil appreciated the effort but didn't have the desire to go there at the moment. “So why is this trip so important?” Neil lifted a proof sheet with an ad from a trendy travel agency in town. He taped it to an open spot on the clear glass wall that sectioned off his corner of personal space in the magazine's studio floor. “There are a gazillion other vacation spots in the world, and Lord knows you make plenty of money. It's not like the two or three grand you put down for this Greek getaway is going to break the bank.” Considering the concept for a moment, Dean leaned back in the task chair beside Neil's, a cappuccino from the local coffeehouse in hand. “It's the principle, I suppose.”

Beautiful Boys

7

“Principle is going to come back and bite you in the ass,” Neil warned. “It's not a smart idea to go on vacation with your ex, Dean. He's either going to screw you over or screw you. Either way, you told me you never wanted to deal with his shit again.” “Why should I squander a chance to enjoy a Mediterranean getaway just because Stephen will be there?” Dean argued. “I thought the 'screw you over or get screwed' contingency is a good enough reason. Believe it or not, Greece will probably still be there next year. You could take your dream vacation then, sans the nightmare boyfriend.” “Has anyone ever told you that sarcasm is a dish best served with guacamole and tortilla chips?” The corners of Dean's mouth quirked. “That's an old Klingon proverb.” “Fine, blow off my advice and make stupid jokes,” Neil said, but he was chuckling. “Although I'm pretty sure there's no possible way to enjoy a vacation with an ex. It's a law of nature or something.” Dean rolled his eyes. Neil took that as an invitation to list more than a dozen additional reasons not to take the joint vacation. He swiveled around in his chair to face Dean and proceeded to tick them off on his fingers. “One, you haven't packed well, and vacations are only as good as the luggage you carry along,” Neil said. “Bullshit.” Dean snickered. “Two, Stephen will be sleeping around with guys, and you're still going to feel jealous.” “I'm over it.” The way his eyebrow twitched, Dean certainly didn't look “over it.” “Three, he's going to do things just to drive you insane, because that's the kind of prick he is.”

8

Anne Cain

“Neil, my mind is made up.” Dean waved him off. “Talking with you has made me see that I have to go on this vacation just to prove to myself and everyone else that Stephen is not the end all and be all of my romantic life.” “It's my turn to say 'bullshit.'” Neil snorted. “But hey—you're a grown man. You know what you want to do with your life.” Besides, Neil knew his reasons to avoid the trip were being filed in Dean's brain under the label Irrelevant. Later, once the vacation had proven to be a complete and total disaster royale, Neil could dole out all the I-told-you-sos he wanted. He wouldn't

be

getting

any

antlers-growing-on-head

looks

during

that

conversation, he bet.

***** Dean leaned back in his chair and watched Neil jog off to the printers in one of the side rooms to get another proof sheet. His brother was such an ass. And Dean meant that in the most affectionate way possible. A woman ducked her head into the cubicle and beamed at Dean from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Hey, I thought that was you I saw come in with Neil!” “Hi, Carol.” Dean stood and wrapped the bubbly receptionist in a hug. “When did you get in to town?” She kissed him on the cheek. “How long are you staying?” “Last night and only for today,” he answered both questions, chuckling. “I wanted to kick my little brother in the ass before leaving on vacation.” “Can I help?” Carol cackled wickedly. “Actually, you might be able to.” Dean smirked. “Has Neil mentioned that his birthday is coming up? “No way.” Her eyes went wide. “He never says anything. I assumed he was hatched.” Dean snickered. “Consider yourself on birthday party duty. It'll drive him crazy, but maybe he'll learn how to have some fun.”

Beautiful Boys

9

“And meet some new guys. That boy needs to learn how to smile and have some fun again.” Dean could practically see the cogs turning in Carol's brain as she thought about the possibilities. “Go for it,” Dean high-fived her. “He'll thank you later.” Carol leaned out of the cubicle and gestured for a couple of young guys hanging out by the espresso machine in the designer's lounge area to come over. “Dean, this is Andy and his friend Nathan,” Carol introduced them. “Andy is one of the magazine's new summer interns. He just finished up at UT.” “Nice.” Dean took an immediate liking to Andy. The slender, handsome kid managed to make worn Keds and a bright red soccer shirt look charmingly boyish and stylish at the same time. “We're going to need some help setting up entertainment for Neil's birthday party.” Carol laid out the master plan. “You have to keep quiet about it, but I'm thinking exotic dancer.” She wiggled her brows. “Hell yeah.” Andy nodded approvingly. “A party isn't a party without a stripper.” Dean knew he'd been right on the money about liking the kid. “Preferably a gay stripper,” he stressed. “Or at least one who doesn't mind stripping for a gay birthday boy.” “That's no problem,” Nathan spoke up. “I have a friend who might fit the bill, and he's looking for work. He has a great bod and knows how to move it.” Nathan coughed, and Dean thought he heard a muffled “sort of” added to the tail end of the praise. “Who is it?” Andy raised a brow at Nathan. “Uhh, the important thing is that he's really hot,” Nathan asserted. “He's a basketball player. All sleek and sexy.”

10

Anne Cain

Andy still looked skeptical, but Dean laughed. “That's perfect. Neil has a soft spot for jocks.” “Okay, we need to start talking pupu platters and piña coladas.” Carol slipped her arm through Andy's. “And I need to head out to finish getting ready for my flight tomorrow.” Dean grinned. “Have fun, guys.” “You too.” Carol kissed him on the cheek. “Don't worry about your brother—we'll make sure he has a great birthday. He won't know what hit him.” She cackled. “I'm going to hold you to that.” Dean winked.

Beautiful Boys

11

Chapter One Getaway

Somewhere in the Greek Isles, a week later

“Fuck.” Dean raked a hand through his close-cropped, sweat-soaked hair. His choice of cuss word dangled impotently in the hot, humid air floating off the surface of the steaming sand. Maybe if he said it again, louder, the word would regain some of its explicit power to express the complete shittiness of the situation. “Fuck,” Dean repeated. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and slapped his thigh. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The yelling, while a tad more satisfying than his earlier, half-muttered swear, still didn't cut it. Maybe there were no words in the English dictionary that actually could. How many guys found themselves stranded on a tiny, uninhabited island, in ninety-degree weather, in skimpy shorts, with no sign of the catamaran or the son of a bitch who had brought him here in the first place? Making matters decidedly more dismal, the two and a half hours of trekking back and forth across the tiny stretch of beach had drained Dean of what little moisture he had left inside of him. He thought he recognized the first signs of oncoming heat exhaustion. A vague sense of nausea rising and falling in the pit of his stomach? A hint of a headache tapping at his temple? Both symptoms were not good. Walking around in circles on the deserted beach, his body thirsted to down at least a gallon of water.

12

Anne Cain

Dean raised a hand to block the glare of sunlight on the pristine, bone white sand and scanned the ocean. The rented catamaran appeared nowhere near the beach; there was no flicker of red, blue, and white sails on the razorstraight horizon line. The only sign of human life anywhere around him was the trail of oblong footprints his water shoes had left over all two miles of shoreline wrapping around the edge of the island in his pointless search for the boat. Dean had consciously kept the lush jungle on his left, the crystal aqua blue waters on his right, and he'd covered the entire tiny island. He was sure of it. Stephen had dumped him here. The fucker. “Son of a…” Dean swallowed, saving his spit for the next time he caught up with his ex-lover. He bet the man was probably tucked behind a cove on one of the dozens of nearby smaller islands dotting the ocean a couple of miles off coast, laughing his ass off at Dean's expense. Neil had been right with his advice, after all. “Get screwed or get screwed over,” Dean muttered his younger brother's warning, knowing that Neil would probably laugh his ass off too, if he knew what was going on. “Yeah, well…shoulda, coulda, woulda…” Dean snorted. Stubborn, proud, and a whole mess of other things besides that officially classified Dean as a dumbass, he had convinced himself he was going to have the fucking time of his life in Greece even before the plane took off in Houston. He promised he wouldn't care what Stephen did and whom Stephen did it with because Dean was going on this trip for Dean's own pleasure. He'd go. Enjoy. Have fun. Maybe find a nice piece of European cock in a club somewhere and not think twice about his ex-lover. What he'd never expected was for the sexual tension to be so damned potent. As soon as they boarded the flight, the old emotions and desires were there to drive him goddamn crazy. Stephen knew exactly all the right buttons to push, and boy, he liked banging at them. Dean hadn't looked to hook up

Beautiful Boys

13

with another man since their breakup, and now it seemed so obvious that he'd worn the need for sex on his body like a second skin. Stephen noticed the frustration almost as soon as they'd landed in Greece, and he'd made sure to flaunt his ass as much as possible over the next two days. If Dean didn't already have an erection before Stephen “accidentally” brushed against him during a hike or dropped a hand into his lap during dinner, Dean found himself with a hard-on that tented the front of even the loosest piece of clothing he had. A fucking muumuu wouldn't have been able to hide his stiff rod. This morning, they'd set out for a private sail around the dozens of islands along the coast. Stephen was a skilled boatman, and he looked good in shorts and a cotton shirt unbuttoned all the way down the front of those nicely shaped pectoral muscles and abs. Ex or not, Dean would've ended up taking him in the boat, on the sand, anywhere. At least twice. When they anchored off the beach, Dean took off for a jog to loosen up after the tense sail. The run was supposed to tame the boner in Dean's shorts and keep his cock safely tucked in under the nylon. He never imagined Stephen would abandon him here with nothing but a water bottle. Asshole. Dean found a weatherworn black rock in the shade of clustered, swaying palm trees. He took a seat on the span of warm, smooth stone and sighed. Just fucking wonderful. He should've stayed in Texas with his semineurotic little brother, sharing in each other's misery over their pathetic love lives. As soon as Stephen decided the joke had gone far enough, and reappeared on the horizon with the boat, Dean was going to head back to the hotel, pack up his shit, and take the next flight home. He'd be in Austin just in time for Neil's official birthday party and the let's-get-drunk-while-trashing-our-exes unofficial afterparty. “Am I moron or what?” Dean shook his head. He swallowed a mouthful of water, set the bottle down on the ground, and pressed his hands against his

14

Anne Cain

eyes. Spots of light dotted the insides of his eyelids, leaving an impression of the gleaming sand. Tired, pissed, sexually frustrated, Dean leaned back across the flat rock and resolved himself to wait until Stephen decided the joke was over. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The pink underside of a thick, erect cock blocked the view of the palm fronds overhead and the cloudless sky beyond. Sunlight glowed through the slip of foreskin peeking over the rounded head. A skilled hand cupped the heavy sac at the base of the erection, massaging the tightening mounds. Heat exhaustion had set in worse than Dean thought. He rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms, not that he minded such a great hallucination. Wondering if the rest of this dream man looked as good as that cock, Dean tore his gaze away from the hardening shaft. The stranger was younger than Dean, maybe twenty or twenty-two years old to Dean's thirty. Hazel eyes, chocolate-colored hair with golden streaks, full lips. Tan skin seemed to run for naked mile after mile over the man's beautiful body. Brown nipples had already formed into peaks, and a trail of light brown hair dusted the insides of his legs, leading toward that fat, beautifully arched cock. One hand rested at his side while the other continued to work over his ball sac. Fuck… Dean could almost feel that expert stroking on his own package. He sucked in his breath, his cock lifting from sheer thought alone. The stranger dropped that skilled hand from his balls and stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, leaving just enough space for his sac to sway between his upper thighs. Dark curls surrounded the base of his fat cock, the head cresting as the foreskin slipped back over the swelling shaft. Dean rolled into a sitting position. His mouth leveled dangerously close to the tip of the luscious-looking dick, he licked his lips. Wanting to suck that cock off so badly, Dean fondled the throbbing bulge at his groin and swallowed a mouthful of spit along with a groan.

Beautiful Boys

15

Beads of water trailed all over the mystery man's body, as if he'd been swimming. The droplets traced the rounded edge of his shoulders and pecs, every sharp cut of muscle at his abdomen and groin. He shook his head, splattering Dean's face in a cool spray. The water tasted sweet. This was no hallucination. “Uh…hi,” Dean croaked. The stranger responded with a short thrust of his hips. The motion lifted his cock even more. The curved shaft pointed up at the man's navel, tempting Dean with the pulsing vein running along the flushed underside. Without saying a word, the man made his point very clear: Take it. Suck. Dean never considered refusing the invitation. He dipped forward, his mouth brushing the tender glans peering through its retracting sheath. The heat from that touch coursed straight through Dean and ended as a fierce throb in his cock. “Shit,” he whispered. Lust was one thing—this was electric. His breath tickled the toughening erection, making it swell wood-hard. The stranger didn't move while Dean closed in and stroked his hips, holding him fast. Dean pressed fingertips against firm, hot skin, kneaded the slick smoothness. He tongued the young man along the flat span of abdomen below his navel, lapping at the beads of water as he pulled himself up and made a line toward one of those dark, peaked nipples. Dean's mouth closed over the nub, scraped the edge of his teeth over the raised flesh, and sucked. He felt the pinch on his own chest and flinched, startled. He was more excited at this powerful, sexually charged contact than he knew how to cope with, and the realization left him feeling dangerously heady. “Look, I don't know what we're doing here, but—” Dean started and quickly shut up. The stranger curved those sensually full lips and lowered his gaze. Dean followed the path of the stare and realized the stranger had both hands on his

16

Anne Cain

pecs, nipples pinched between thumb and forefinger. The guy rolled his fingers, and a rush of sensation shot from the swollen nubs and spiraled through Dean's core. Precum leaked from his dick with every delicious pinch of the mystery man's fingers, the fluid pooling in his shorts and coating his cock. The pulsing in his shaft actually ached, and there was only one way to find relief. Dean yanked down his shorts. The top elastic caught on his swollen prick, and he groaned through clenched teeth. The guy moved in with two helping hands, one to grip Dean's cock and the other to tug away the clothing. But he never let go of Dean's piece. Still smiling, the stranger weighed the stiffening rod and spanked it playfully. Blood surged through Dean's cock as his pulse went wild. He made some kind of choked sound between a grunt and a moan, a shiver of pleasure racing up his spine. The man's touch felt even better than Dean could've imagined. The stranger palmed the entire length of Dean's cock and found the leaking slit at the head. A thumb worked along the glistening opening. More precum gushed. He smeared the juice all over the firm knob. “Fuck.” Dean swallowed. His dick wouldn't stop kicking against that practiced hand, his balls so tight up in their sac, he felt close to exploding. He humped the man's palm, letting his cock slide in and over those mercilessly good fingers. “Who are you?” Dean rasped. “Nico.” The man spoke with a trace of an accent—could've been Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Greek—Dean had a hard time identifying it. Not the only thing he had hard, obviously. Something arced between the two men. Dean felt the pull of attraction yank him a hundred and eighty degrees away from anything resembling common sense, and he was willing to surrender to this shared passion. The man touching him now, desiring him, promised nothing but sexual abandon and the opportunity for pleasure without consequences. They weren't going to fight about things afterward, hurt each other with cruel words or snide

Beautiful Boys

17

remarks. This was a chance for Dean to really enjoy the company of another man who wanted him with nothing but the same burning physical need. “Nico, I'm going to fuck you senseless,” Dean growled. “Finally.” The man's lips curled. And it was a beautiful smile. Dean cradled the back of Nico's head in both hands and pushed him down. With the man down on his knees in the sand, Dean thrust forward. His cock slapped that pretty face, his bag swinging. Lips sealed around the head of his shaft; they were hot and sucked hard. Not two seconds into the job, a load almost shot out of Dean. He grunted, gripping the soft, damp ringlets of Nico's dark hair to hold the man back. “Slow down.” Nico stopped sucking. He slicked his tongue along the throbbing shaft, leaving a slobbery trail. He coated the entire length with spit and Dean's own precum. The deepening red cock glistened, dripping wet. Dean groaned as he rocked against those moist lips. As much as he liked the tug and pull of Nico's mouth, he wanted to shove his cock into something hotter, tighter. Playing out what he fantasized doing to Nico's ass, Dean made another growling noise and thrust his hard piece deeper into the other man's warmly receptive mouth. A jolt sparked up Dean's cock as he raised a hand to his own lips and sucked on his middle finger. Slick with saliva, he reached around and nudged into the crack between his ass cheeks. He found the puckered hole and choked back another guttural sound as he worked inside the ring of muscle, penetrating his own ass. The passage clamped down around his finger. Working with the same hungry intensity as Nico's mouth, his anus sucked off on the digit like Nico milked his cock. “Shit,” Dean cursed, but he loved the sensation as he stroked himself from the inside out. Tension, pain, pleasure—all of it bit into him like a stinging slap

18

Anne Cain

across his ass. More satisfaction followed as he worked his finger up to the last knuckle and pegged his gland. Dean wrenched his cock free from Nico's throat. He didn't have to tell the other man to get into position. Nico turned and leaned over the rock, hands on the smooth edge. His butt pointed up into the air, his legs spreading apart to show the clean, pink, hairless hole. It gaped. Begged to be filled. Dean speared the opening with the same wet finger he'd used on himself. Nico's anus constricted around his probing touch, and the man whimpered. With a little more encouragement, Dean got most of his finger into the passage, then worked in a second. Nico's hole relaxed and stretched wide, and the man pushed back with his hips to meet Dean's fingers as they slid in deeper. The guy could take his whole fist, Dean knew it. But his cock stabbed at the air, pulsing, wet. Oozing precum all over Nico's backside. Demanding to be rammed into that tight, hot ass. Buried deep. Dean smoothed both hands over the curves of Nico's rear in a circular motion, felt the rolling muscles tense under his kneading fingertips. Nico begged, “Fuck me. Come on.” God, Dean was going to come all over himself at any moment. But he swept his hands gently over Nico's lower back. “Wait,” he breathed. Dean pulled a small wrapper, slightly dampened with sweat and seawater, from the pocket in his shorts. It should never have been there in the first place, and Dean stared at it for a second, knowing it represented just how out of control the situation with Stephen had become. Before the island—before Nico—Dean had been at the breaking point. He'd been poised to make the one mistake he'd sworn to himself and his brother that he wouldn't: sleep with his ex-lover. That's why he'd slipped the condom into his pocket before leaving the hotel room this morning. Now it meant something else entirely. Closure, freedom, and a moment of happiness with someone else.

Beautiful Boys

19

“I haven't been with a lot men.” Nico watched him thoughtfully from over his shoulder. “Most never bothered with that. They don't care.” “I do.” Dean leaned over and kissed Nico on the small of his back while rolling on the rubber. He gripped the man's sweat-glazed hip and positioned his cock at the opening. He thrust in, hard. The already stretched hole swallowed him up with a sucking feeling that drained Dean of breath. “Oh fuck,” he panted. He ran his cock straight through the flexing passage and up into Nico's ass. He nailed the right spot, the head of his dick wrapped in hot, tight, rolling muscle. “Harder,” Nico cried out. “More!” His cries worked Dean's pounding rhythm into a frenzy. Moaning and writhing under Dean's merciless pounding, Nico jerked himself off. He arched up, and his shoulder rocked back and forth, muscles straining as he tugged so hard that Dean felt each yank on his own cock. When Nico tore loose a few seconds before Dean, the stream of cum splattered up into his own face. Dean saw the spray of white fluid streaked across the black rock and speckled on Nico's chin. The musky scent filled the hot, heavy air, drowning out the scent of ocean water. Sex, semen, and sweat were the only things Dean was aware of besides the rush of blood flooding his engorged cock. Dean tumbled over the edge. He slammed into Nico, his dark pubes sealed around the stretched red hole as their bodies crashed together. His balls slapped against the back of the man's thighs. Dean's hands gripped the slippery, smooth skin of Nico's hips for leverage as he lanced that gorgeous ass over and again. The spray shot out of him so fast and hard, Dean screamed. He kept pumping, the lube on the rubber only making it easier for him to slide his cock around in that hot channel. And the guy could ride—fuck! Nico banged against Dean, his ass sucking and clamping down on Dean's prick as if letting it go meant life or death. The feverish pitch of their fucking worked Dean up again, more jizz squirting out of him than he'd realized he'd had stored up.

20

Anne Cain

Empty, he twitched a few times, then slipped out, exhausted. Dean hunched over Nico, his forehead pressed against the other man's smooth, sweaty back. “Shit,” he gasped. He'd never taken someone that hard before, not even his ex-lover during the height of their so-called relationship. Stephen was the top that always refused to play bottom. Dean would've enjoyed making love to Stephen this way at least once, as much as Dean liked the feel of cock up his own ass. The island boy panting underneath him gave Dean more than Stephen ever had. Nico turned, taking Dean's face into his warm palms. He drew them into a kiss, and the taste of his lips was sweet and salty and dreamlike on Dean's tongue. Delicious. Full of tenderness also, as Nico gently tugged and sucked on Dean's lips as if he'd been waiting his whole life for a kiss this good. And why not? Dean had. They pulled apart to catch their breath, resting forehead to forehead. What happened now? Did it matter? Of course it did, but Dean was too focused on the here and now, too enraptured by this gorgeous, sexual creature in his arms, to think beyond the heat of the moment. Dean's gaze skittered down Nico's beautiful body but paused at the man's cock. He hardly looked sated. The plump shaft was still hard, the foreskin stretched all the way back to expose a shiny pink head with white cream dotting the slit. The thick vein along the underside leading to his scrotum pulsed. So enticing. “Let me suck you off,” Dean breathed. He climbed onto the rock, coaxing Nico to join him. He planned for the other man to spread out on the smooth stone while he took his time pleasuring the stiff cock, but Nico had other plans. “Whoa,” Dean gasped as Nico pushed him back onto the rock. Nico straddled Dean's chest, slick thighs settling over Dean's pecs, knees tucked under his armpits. The position felt sexy as hell, particularly when Nico thrust forward at the hip. His sac rubbed the cleft of Dean's chest and his cock bounced up at attention.

Beautiful Boys

21

Swollen, long, silky, and wet, the dick pointed straight at Dean's mouth. He dived for it, wrapped his lips around that blunt tip. The salty, raw, and completely masculine flavor of the stranger's spunk teased his senses. Dean lapped it up, the tip of his tongue playing with the loose web of delicate skin under the head of Nico's cock. That brought out a moan of pleasure from the other man, and Dean toyed with that spot until Nico bucked his hips. Pitching forward, Nico worked more of that fat length into Dean's mouth. He ran his hands through the blond hair cropped close to the back of Dean's neck, drawing them closer together. Dean took Nico deep into his throat. He almost gagged at the heavy slab of meat throbbing on his tongue but wanted to take in as much of that length as possible. He felt the rounded head reach his throat and loved the sensation of being filled so completely. A moan vibrated in his chest, and he squeezed Nico's hips. Nico jerked back, then thrust forward again, fucking Dean's mouth the same way he'd been fucked in the ass. The desperation in their lovemaking worked Dean up all over again, and another rush of lust stiffened his sex. Brought it right up to stab at the sky as if he hadn't gotten off in years. Dean touched himself, cupped his balls. But he kept most of his attention on the luscious cock riding back into the depths of his throat. Damn, it felt good. He sucked on that delicious piece of scorching-hot cock until his jaw ached, wanting to milk that pretty penis completely dry. Dean glanced up. Dark, thick lashes sheltered Nico's hazel irises as he squeezed his eyes shut, and sweat ran down his naked flesh in dozens of gleaming trickles. A shudder traveled down those sculpted ab muscles, and his cock twitched. “I'm coming,” Nico warned, chest heaving. He arched back, leaning into Dean's strong hands for support as the orgasm racked his taut body. Dean pulled his lips away, the hot spray washing over his chest. He squeezed the base of Nico's cock and continued to pump the organ, drawing

22

Anne Cain

out Nico's pleasure as long as the man could stand it. Finally, empty and softening in Dean's hands, Nico collapsed backward. They were in a type of sixty-nine, only back to front, Nico's firm buttocks on Dean's chest. Nico's head rested on the inside of one of Dean's thighs with his face turned in. Each time he breathed, the hot air flowed over the softening erection curving up from Dean's damp pubes. Nico's thighs, still spread open, revealed the inflamed pink hole below his flushed ball sac. The area glistened with cum and spit. As Nico's breathing slowed, his anus clenched and opened a few times, enticing Dean to tongue the clean hole. The flavor was tart, but naughty and delicious regardless. Dean poked deeper into the stretched ring again and again, drinking the raw, decadently good taste. With a soft purr, Nico pulled away. He climbed off Dean and stretched out on the rock beside him. He'd come again. The thick cream was streaked across his ribbed abs, his cock draped heavily over his upper thigh. Dean sat up, intent on licking that bronze skin clean. He lapped at Nico's navel, kissed the spot before sweeping up with his lips to wipe the salty fluid. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so much with another man. “Good?” Nico's lip curled. “Fucking good,” Dean grunted in agreement. He dragged his tongue along the cleft of Nico's chest. Their eyes locked, and another pulse of desire shuddered through Dean's body. He fondled his cock, and the organ gave a small but sporting kick in his hand. If he weren't exhausted already, Dean would've been thrusting his shaft into Nico's ass again for another go. “So…” Dean leaned over, and his lips brushed against Nico's. Now that the rush of gloriously passionate, anonymous sex had slowed to a nice buzz, he wondered who this naked mystery lover really was. And how he'd gotten on a supposedly uninhabited island off the Mediterranean coast. More importantly…

Beautiful Boys

23

“What are you doing tonight?” Dean asked softly. He ended the question with a deep kiss, their mouths opening to welcome each other's exploring tongues. “What do you mean?” Nico pulled away, puzzled. The look alone spoke volumes about the kind of relationships he'd had, as if his earlier confession about having been treated carelessly by his lovers hadn't said enough. Stephen would've fucked him and said good-bye like the other men Nico had known, but Dean didn't play by those rules. “I'd like for you to come with me,” Dean explained. His mood soured for a moment. “When the asshole with the boat finally decides to come pick me up, that is.” “Why?” “Because…” Dean brushed a damp curl of hair from Nico's forehead. “I want to get to know you better.” He touched his mouth to Nico's. With a deep, sensual laugh, Nico broke out of the kiss. He licked his lips and offered Dean a taunting smile. “I'll have to think about it.” Then he bolted from the rock. Dean stared after him, too shocked to move at first. As Nico disappeared through the brush, Dean pulled up his shorts from around his knees and raced after the guy. Pounding through the tropical foliage, he kept his eyes glued on the streak of naked tan flesh gliding through the green surroundings up ahead. They burst into a clearing, and Nico dived into a pool of water. While scouting the island, Dean had missed this place. He didn't stop to enjoy the setting with its smooth, pebbled banks and the twelve-foot waterfall cascading into the crystal water. Dean, an excellent swimmer, followed the other man straight in and almost caught up. But then Nico reached the bank and vanished through the leaves again.

24

Anne Cain

“Damn it,” Dean panted, pushing himself to hurry. He lost all sight of the younger man in a thick grove of palms, but the path Nico had taken showed in the crushed grass and broken leaves. Dean sprinted, closing the gap. The jungle gave way to a sandy shoreline. Dean burst out into the middle of an empty beach. Panting, he skidded to a stop on the hot sand. He'd cut through the center of the island. Nico had vanished, but docked several yards away from this beach was the catamaran. And there was Stephen on deck, drinking a beer and sunning himself, nude. He sat up and called out to Dean. Dean looked around, scanning the empty beach and the jungle's edge for any sign of his island boy. Not even a footprint showed that Nico had come through here. If the salty flavor of the other man's cum hadn't lingered in the back of Dean's throat, and his back and shoulder muscles weren't throbbing pleasantly with postsex soreness, Dean might've believed everything had been a trick of his mind. “Huh,” Dean grunted. A smile tugged on his lips. When Stephen called him again, he waded through the gentle ocean water. Dean swam up to the catamaran and climbed up the metal ladder at the end of the boat. Stephen met him there, still naked, cock hanging heavy between his sculpted legs. Dean knew his ex well enough to figure out that Stephen's striptease was just another way to get him riled up, to taunt him with sex. “What were you up to?” Stephen raised a brow. His cock perked up also, whether he meant it to or not. His peg stiffened and blushed a deep red. Dean had no trouble ignoring the erection. He smirked, brushed some of the wet blond tangles from his eyes. “I'm coming back here tomorrow.”

Beautiful Boys

25

Chapter Two Jinx

Austin, TX

There was an unwritten law in the universe, a clause penned by fate or destiny, that made at least one day out of the week completely shitty for a person. Monday, for example, had been the bane of millions of human beings since the invention of schools and the workweek. Personally, Neil actually didn't hold much against Monday. It was a decent enough day, just trying to do its job and usher in the week on behalf of its lazy-ass brother, Sunday, who didn't really get the week started like the calendar said it should. But most people didn't understand that, and so they hated Monday. Loathed it with immense passion. Marked it with big, ugly red X's in their date books and wrote mean jokes about it in Sunday comic strips and vapid late-night TV shows. Neil couldn't endorse the bigotry against Monday. It just didn't seem fair. But Thursday was another story entirely. Fate, destiny, karma, the laws of the universe, and Howard must have gotten together with Thursday and decided to make that day Neil's pain-in-the-ass segment of the week. The bad mojo never failed on Thursday. Ever. All three speeding tickets Neil had received in his lifetime were given on Thursdays, he had been laid off his first job on a Thursday, and the jobs that came in on Thursday had the predictable tendency to suck donkey balls. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. As if the universe wanted to push the point across with a battering ram, even Neil's last

26

Anne Cain

disastrous relationship started—and ended—on a Thursday. It was almost cosmic. On this particularly warm, sunny, and otherwise unsuspicious Thursday in March, Neil felt the mojo coming on especially strong. When the alarm went off in the morning, he sat up in bed, stretched, and the stark realization that something especially tragic was going to happen that day smacked the lingering drowsiness out of him. He refused to call such a feeling a premonition; it was more a subconscious recognition of the signs going on around him. Like when all the birds, squirrels, and other fuzzy things in the park outside his apartment went into hiding because a rainstorm was coming. That was a sign for the human city dwellers to grab their galoshes and ponchos. Today, the birds and the fuzzy things were chirping and running around outside the window, so bad weather wasn't actually looming near on the horizon. Those critters just weren't attuned to the flow of destiny that made Thursdays a bitch for Neil and didn't know better. As the day progressed, more of fate's cards were stacked up against Neil. He stopped at a coffeehouse on the way to work, and the barista gave him a free drink because she'd made the wrong one for the customer in front of him. Ominously, the drink was exactly what Neil would've ordered. He tried to pay in order to ward off the worst of karma's oncoming tricks, but the barista insisted the drink was on the house. The best Neil could do was slip a five into the tip jar and hope he'd fooled destiny. But a deeper sense of dread sank in as he arrived at the office building and found an open, unmetered parking space right in front of the entrance. What he should've done at that point was ignore the temptation and take his usual spot in the fifteen-dollar-a-day parking garage at the corner. Instead, he chose the street parking. Even as he walked into the cool, air-conditioned lobby and headed up to the studio on the third floor, Neil knew he'd just given fate the finger and it was going to come back to bite him in the ass. Suddenly, his free double macchiato didn't taste quite as good anymore.

Beautiful Boys

27

“Hey.” Neil glanced over at Carol, who was smiling at him from the reception desk across from the elevators. For once, he regretted the open, postmodern look the design firm used for its interior layout. There were a few closed-off rooms on the right used to house the big printers and other clunky pieces of equipment, interns included, but the floor space of the main studio was open. Cubicles had been replaced with glass dividers that offered only some semblance of privacy, so there was no place for Neil to hide and hope the worst of Thursday wouldn't be able to find him. He nodded and mumbled “good morning” before quickly trotting over to his desk and slouching into his chair. Ducking behind the monitor, he put as much effort as humanly possible into pretending to look busy with the computer. Undeterred, Carol pushed away from her desk and walked over to him. She perched herself at the edge of his desk, the megawatt grin on her face almost more ostentatious than the blitz of multicolors on her tie-dyed T-shirt. “Happy birth—” she started. “Don't say it,” Neil cut her off. He pressed a finger to his lips and glanced around to make sure none of his other coworkers had caught on. “I just want today to be over smoothly and without incident.” She gave him a blank look behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Wishing you a happy—” Neil stopped her again with a censuring stare. “Fine.” Carol started to roll her eyes and seemed to catch herself. She was probably recalling the last time she and Neil had had one of their discussions about “unhealthy superstitions” and had wisely decided not to induce another protracted exchange. Neil had inherited one other thing from his mother aside from his baby blues, and that was a near-superhuman ability to argue nonstop for hours and hours. The gift came in handy when dealing with his insurance company and also worked great as a deterrent against Carol's attempts to convert him into a skeptic.

28

Anne Cain

Feeling self-satisfied, Neil settled back into his seat and opened up the Web browser. He clicked over to his daily horoscope. “You know…” Carol started again. She looked as if she was itching to roll her eyes some more, but her eyeballs stayed focused up at the abstract silver wire sculptures hanging from the ceiling instead. “Wishing you well isn't going to jinx your day.” Neil was about to correct her, when his reading came on-screen. “Oh, God, I am so fucked,” he groaned. Carol swiveled the flat panel around so she could read as well. “'Buckle up and get ready for a bumpy ride, Pisces. Until Venus realigns with Jupiter's moons, reflect on past misadventures to avoid disaster.'” She started to snicker. “This isn't funny.” Neil glared at her. “You're right; it's hilarious.” Carol shook her head. “How can you buy into this junk?” “Because it's real.” He swallowed. He really, really should've parked in the garage. He glanced down at his wristwatch and wondered if nine thirty was too early to call it a day. But that would mean having to talk to Howard, which was never a good thing lately. He pointed a shaky finger at Carol. “This is exactly why I don't want you saying shit about my birthday.” “Oh, is it your birthday?” Lynette, one of the other designers, had overheard on the way to her desk. “Happy birthday!” Neil groaned and buried his face in his hands. “No, it's not.” “Yes, it is,” Carol cheerfully volunteered. “Neil is just worried the moons around Venus are going to pee on his carpet or something.” “Jupiter's moons,” Neil shot back, seething. “And this isn't a joke.” Chuckling, Lynette slapped him on the shoulder. “Honey, relax. Carol's just teasing you.”

Beautiful Boys

29

“Sure, sure. Ha-ha. Very funny.” Maybe Neil could hide under his desk all day. No, he'd probably end up with a crick in his neck that would eventually lead to paralysis in his limbs. Fuck, he was screwed. “Neil.” Carol licked her lips. “Maybe part of your, um, anxiety is because you're turning thirty. Plenty of people have a quarter-life crisis, and you're just a few years late experiencing yours.” He fixed her with a dry look before turning to Lynette. “And my theories are supposed to be ridiculous.” “Carol might be on to something,” she said, tapping her chin. “My sisterin-law went crazy at twenty-five because she wasn't a best-selling author yet. I tried to tell her she had to sit down and actually write a book first, but I guess she didn't believe me.” “I'm not going crazy,” Neil sputtered. “And I sure as hell don't want to be a fucking novelist. I want the universe to leave me alone.” “There you go with Uranus's rings again,” Carol said. “Jupiter's moons!” Neil banged his forehead on the desk. “Whatever.” Lynette patted his back. “What we're saying is that maybe you're acting up like this because you're not happy with the way things are going. When was the last time you had sex?” “I'm not discussing my love life with you two,” Neil mumbled into the glass top. “It was with Howard,” Carol explained over Neil's head. “That long?” Lynette gasped. “No wonder.” Neil straightened up. “Look, there has to be at least one other gay man in this building you two can embarrass. Go bother him for a while.” He quickly added, “But not Howard.” “Why not? We can ask him what happened, since you're not talking,” Carol said. “I bet Howard was lousy in bed,” Lynette nodded.

Anne Cain

30

Neil was losing the battle, and he visualized his horoscope coming to fruition in a horrible way. The two women would go talk to Howard, Howard would come talk to him, Neil would say something stupid about Howard's microscopic dick, and Neil would find himself without a job. “Please,” he pleaded. “Just leave all this alone.” Carol opened her mouth to say more, but Lynette waved her off. “Okay, okay,” Lynette said gently. She bent over to give Neil a hug, holding him close against her warm, soft chest. “We'll stop pestering you.” “Thanks.” Neil returned the hug before slouching back into his squeaky chair. “I just wish you'd said something about your birthday earlier.” Lynette brushed her long black braids back over her shoulder. “We could've thrown something together for you here.” “No, it's okay,” Neil wheezed. “I really don't want to do anything special.” Lynette gave Carol a “poor Neil” type of look. Carol just shook her head and shrugged. The two women gave Neil the distinct impression his attitude made him look a little, rather, a lot, like a jerk. This whole scenario was exactly what he'd hoped to escape by not saying a word about his birthday. But Thursday never let him down. “Well, how about drinks after work?” Lynette offered. “Sounds good to me,” Carol agreed too quickly. Suspicious, Neil eyed both women warily before turning to Carol. “You don't drink.” “I'll have mineral water.” As soon as Carol refused to meet his gaze, Neil knew exactly what he was being set up for. “Christ.” He rested his forehead in his hand. “I don't want a surprise party. Did you two cook this up together?” “Maybe…” Lynette coughed into her fist.

Beautiful Boys

31

“You sound like it's the most terrible thing in the world, Neil.” Carol pursed her lips. “A party will be lots of fun, and you can finally move past that thing with Howard. Start dating again.” Neil rubbed his eyes. He'd moved past “that thing with Howard” weeks ago but didn't bother to correct Carol, who wouldn't believe him anyway. Neither of the two women would. Carol had a boyfriend, and she comfortably believed that her world revolved around that close relationship. Lynette had a husband and two kids, and she firmly believed everyone's problems could be traced to bad romances. They just didn't realize that certain people were simply losers, with Thursdays bent on making those certain people's lives miserable. Damn. If only he'd parked in the garage, he probably would've slipped right under fate's radar today. “Will you promise to at least try and have some fun tonight?” Lynette asked. “Fine.” Neil submitted to the futility of any further protest. “What time do we have to be where?” “Seven, at your place.” Carol gave him a thumbs-up. “My place?” Neil gawked at her. “Don't worry, Grandpa. We won't spill salsa on the carpet,” Carol promised. “And you will have a good time. Trust me.” Neil had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Did you two hire a stripper?” Carol and Lynette cackled in unison.

***** Neil stalked around the apartment with a plastic garbage bag in hand, snatching up empty plastic cups and wine bottles off the tabletops. One of Carol's other gay friends, a bubbly, overenthusiastic blond with a gold hoop in one ear, draped himself over Neil's shoulder.

32

Anne Cain

“C'mon, birthday boy, let's dance.” He kissed Neil on the side of his neck and tried to drag him to the space that had been cleared in the middle of the living room. At least a dozen other people were crowded in the small spot, bumping into each other and trying to move to the techno tripe blasting on the stereo. Neil didn't know half the people who were there, and he didn't exactly relish jumping into the fray. He gently shrugged Carol's cute but clingy friend off his shoulder. “Sure, but first…” Neil plucked the empty beer cup from the blond's hand and stuffed it in the trash. “Let me take this to the kitchen. Go on and warm up without me.” “Okay.” The guy pranced off, and Neil made his escape. Carol's boyfriend caught him on the way into the kitchen. “Where do you think you're going?” He grinned. Louis wore the cheesy “Kiss the Master Chef” apron Carol had given Neil one Christmas, and he carried a tray with more of his trademark Ritz and Brie hors d'oeuvres in one hand. Despite being touched at the effort Louis was putting into making the party special, Neil couldn't understand how anyone liked those god-awful snacks. He wondered if he could get away with dumping the contents of the tray into the trash once he could be sure no one was looking. “The party's out here, buddy.” Louis put his free arm around Neil's shoulder and coaxed him back toward the living room. “I was just going to put the trash in the kitchen,” Neil explained as he tried to shake Louis off. What was up with everyone draping themselves around his upper body tonight? “Come on, loosen up. You're acting like a character out of a Neil Simon play.” Louis snatched the trash bag and tossed it by the door to the kitchen. “Hey, you guys even share a first name!” “The fact hadn't escaped my notice,” Neil muttered drily.

Beautiful Boys

33

Any attempt at sarcasm was lost on Louis. “Go, have fun!” He pushed Neil back out toward the dance floor. And almost immediately, the blond materialized at Neil's shoulder again, slipping an arm through his. “I'm warmed up,” he proclaimed. “Let's go shake it.” As he was dragged to the dance zone, Neil caught Carol's eye. She stood by the buffet table sipping seltzer water while chatting with Lynette, and she gave him a wink. If he weren't suspicious about it already, Neil now knew for certain the clinging blond was her attempt at setting him up with someone for evening. Sarcastically, he mouthed, Thank you. You're welcome, she mouthed back, grinning. Apparently, sarcasm was lost on her as well. Yanked out into the cramped space for dancing, Neil was smacked around by the gyrating bodies. He hoped the song would come to an end fairly quickly, but the thing about techno was its ability to form a continuous loop of music that made one song indistinguishable from the next. So no one knew when to stop dancing, and maybe that was the point. Neil groaned. The blond, whose name Neil couldn't remember for the life of him, set both hands on Neil's ass and kept them there. The gesture was cute, and Neil should've been melting into those apparently very experienced palms, but he wasn't feeling it—not the attraction or the desire. With a sigh, Neil took the blond's eager hands and guided them to a more neutral position at the waist. The blond raised both eyebrows, but Carol might've given him a heads-up about Neil's “attitude” before the party. He gave a little half shrug, curved his lips in a sexy smile, and pulled Neil close. “Happy birthday,” the blond murmured. “You've said that already.” Neil forced a smile. “I can't say it again?” “Sure.” Neil struggled to avoid rolling his eyes. Frankly, he just wanted this song to be over. He wanted the blond's well-meaning attentions to be

Anne Cain

34

focused on someone else. He wanted this excuse for a party to be over before whatever disaster fate had in store for him exploded on the scene. What or who was going to be the catalyst? Neil glanced shiftily to the side, searching for any potential catastrophes bubbling underneath the surface of all the happy partygoers. Maybe it was that guy with the tacky shoes and even tackier Hawaiian shirt snacking on one of Louis's horrible crackers. His fashion sense was a disaster, so who knew what other calamities he could induce within his personal orbit. The guy caught Neil looking him over and mistook the attention for being checked out. He arched an eyebrow at Neil and smiled coyly. Hell no. Neil quickly glanced away. Maybe fate's handyman was the burly fellow in khaki reclining on the couch next to the pile of last-minute gifts stacked on the end table. Or maybe it was the man sitting next to Burly and stroking his knee, a man who looked a lot like Howard. Wait…the thinning salt-and-pepper hair, the laugh lines, the wire-rimmed glasses… It was Howard. “Shit,” Neil gasped. He stumbled in the middle of the dance, stomping on the blond's foot. “Ow.” The blond sucked in his breath. “Are you trying to break a toe or what?” “Sorry,” Neil mumbled, distracted. He grabbed the blond by the shoulders and shifted him over to the side, using the guy as a shield from Howard's line of sight. But that was only going to work for so long. Howard was at the party because someone had invited him to celebrate Neil's birthday, and they were bound to run into each other at one point. Mentally, Neil fought to control the rising sense of panic and willed himself to think positive thoughts. The day's horoscope came rushing back to him, and all his good thoughts were shot to shit. Whatever cosmic joke fate was going to

Beautiful Boys

35

pull tonight, Howard was at the crux, and Neil was going to be the butt of it. Running away suddenly seemed like a fantastic option, despite the fact that this was his own apartment and a man shouldn't have to escape from his own place. He could've crashed at his brother's, lying low until Jupiter's moons were properly realigned and destiny wasn't trying to bite him in the ass. He'd just have to drive four fucking hours to Houston and break into the town house, since Dean was still halfway around the world on vacation in Greece and hadn't bothered to give him a key yet. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Neil broke into a light sweat. This was all Carol's doing, he was sure of it. Neil scanned the area by the buffet table, but she had disappeared along with Lynette. “Maybe we should go get a drink or sit down for a while,” the blond interrupted Neil's panicked imaginings. “You seem a little distracted.” “Yeah,” Neil agreed with several rapid nods. “Let's do that.” The blond took him by the hand and started to lead him in the direction of the couch. “No!” Neil broke into a phony coughing fit. Unfortunately, his act attracted more attention than he'd wanted it to. A few other people stopped dancing and patted his back helpfully, asking if he was okay. Neil waved them off, and over the blond's shoulder, he saw Howard getting up from the couch with a concerned look and coming toward him. Neil whipped around and gestured toward the front door. “I need some fresh air. Outside is better.” “Okay, okay.” The blond slipped an arm around Neil's waist to help support his weight. Now Neil felt really guilty about not remembering the guy's name. He was actually being really sweet and nice. If only the likelihood of disaster weren't so high today, Neil might've actually asked the guy out. A couple of hard bangs on the front door prevented Neil from making his clever escape. He whipped around to see what was happening now, but Carol was already at the entrance and wearing a slick grin. “Shit, I hope no one called the cops because of all the racket,” she announced loudly.

36

Anne Cain

“Oh no,” Neil groaned. No one in the building called 911 for complaints on noise levels; they buzzed the twenty-four-hour security and management office downstairs to handle the problem. So there was a zero chance in hell that an actual police officer stood outside Neil's apartment. Fearing the worst, he pressed his fingers into his temple, where a doozy of a headache pounded against his skull. “Please no.” Carol swung open the door and a tall “cop” dressed in black leather and with a vinyl attaché at his side strutted into the room. The tight clothing traced every swell and dip of the guy's chiseled thigh muscles and the smooth, tight curves of his ass. Broad shoulders filled out the black jacket that was fastened up to his neck, shiny silver zippers glinting in the light. Below his trim waist, a belt with pouches and cuffs hung at his hips. He tossed the attaché to the floor and surveyed the room behind his reflective aviator glasses, his square jaw set in a stern, authoritative expression. “Whose birthday party is this?” Someone shoved Neil forward. “Mine,” he admitted with a very, very bitter sigh. “Get 'em up,” the cop growled, his scowl shifting into a dirty, come-get-me grin that implied Neil should be getting more than his hands up in the air. As if that line weren't ridiculous enough, the “cop” followed it up with an increasingly horrible script that included referring to himself in the third person. “Officer Nasty is going down on your party. You have the right to remain…sexy!” The cop ripped open his jacket, revealing chiseled pecs and a rippling six-pack that looked hard enough to grate cheese on. “Oh God.” Neil dug his fingertips into his temple. All the gays and gals in the room started howling, including the blond at Neil's elbow. Officer Nasty tossed his jacket to the floor and thrust his hips forward a few times to show off the mound at his crotch. He swayed and rocked to the music, more clumsy than flashy, but despite being a lousy dancer, almost everyone seemed to love him. Even Neil was captivated by the awkward but nonetheless sexy movements as the man rolled his shoulders and flexed

Beautiful Boys

37

nicely sculpted abs. It was as if Officer Nasty had more than enough sexuality to get his audience charged up, but was a little shy and awkward about doing it. In all honesty, Neil thought that made the inexperienced stripper somewhat adorable, and given how the audience was going wild with cheers and squeals, they agreed. Now if only Neil had happened to be in the mood for a playful striptease. Instead, his reaction fell in somewhere with the handful of hetero guys who were at the party with their girlfriends or wives. While those guys stared in a more or less embarrassed but open-minded silence, Neil planned the quickest way out of the apartment. Unfortunately, the stripper had effectively positioned his sexy body between Neil and the exit. The stripper spun around, wiggled his butt, and slapped himself on one leather-encased glute. Then he slipped his fingers through a pair of loopholes sewn into the pants at each hip and tugged. His pants tore off with a loud shrrrrp, leaving him in nothing but his leather boots and the skimpiest thong possible that could still be considered an article of clothing and not a red Band-Aid. Officer Nasty swiveled his hips a few times and turned back to face his audience, while swinging the torn pieces of his pants over his head. One of the pieces slipped out of Officer Nasty's grip and swooshed through the air. This epic time warp of Star Trek proportions crashed the party, and everything moved in ultraslow motion. Neil saw the leather whipping through the air past his shoulder, headed straight for the stereo, and he had a vision of his four-figure audio system being reduced to a pile of electronic scrap parts. Gripped by pure reflex—and usually his reflexes weren't worth shit—he lunged for the leather. Neil surprised himself by actually catching it. The momentary relief and sense of victory almost immediately changed into a new sense of panic as he tripped on the edge of the rug. He had a vision of himself falling through the air, arms pinwheeling at his sides just like in a cheesy cartoon. The time warp

38

Anne Cain

abruptly lapsed, and now that his ass was headed for the floor, everything moved at sonic speed. At first, all he registered were the sounds: the utterly ridiculous “oh!” cry that squeaked out of his lungs, the dull thud of his butt hitting the hardwood at the same time his shoulder rammed into the bookcase next to the stereo, followed by a horrible crunching, shattering noise of glass meeting its demise. Neil immediately knew what was broken without even looking. He'd had several photo frames on the bookcase and some pottery, but deep in his gut he was sure those were fine. The large, expensive break-me-and-have-seven-yearsbad-luck mirror mounted on the wall above the frames, however… Drawing himself up on his elbow, Neil braved a look. The dozen or so Neils reflected on the pieces of broken glass stared back at him in dismay. In unison, they all mouthed, Fuck.

***** The party never recovered from the drama. Maybe all the guests had sensed Neil's impending doom now that he'd really screwed himself over and they were worried for their own karma if they lingered. One by one, they trickled out of the apartment. Frozen to the spot where he'd started his performance, the stripper stared at Neil and the broken mirror in shock. His sexy, tough-guy Officer Nasty facade had disappeared as soon as the leather slipped from his grip. “Shit,” he stammered. “I am so, so sorry.” “Don't worry about it.” Carol stepped in quickly, patting the guy on a bare shoulder. “It's okay, right? Neil?” His speech temporarily incapacitated, Neil turned to gawk at her. Carol tried to laugh it off. “You don't honestly believe that seven-years-ofbad-luck superstition.” “Oh shit.” The stripper smacked himself on the forehead. At least he got it.

Beautiful Boys

39

Neil reached up from his sprawled position on the floor and hit the power switch on the stereo. The techno music died in midthump, and more people took this as their cue to leave. Neil turned back to the broken mirror and lifted the frame by a battered corner. Two shards of glass stayed behind on the floor while smaller, teardrop-sized pieces broke off and dropped down to join them. Reflect on past misadventures. Neil's horoscope played itself over again in the back of his mind, and he knew deep in his gut that this was a bad omen of things to come. He was also painfully reminded that seven years of bad luck hounded the unfortunate bastard who broke mirrors—thanks, Carol—and he wondered why in the hell he'd bothered to get out of bed this morning. If all that wasn't fucked up enough, the half dozen reflections staring back at him looked older than he remembered himself being. Damn. “Neil?” Carol inquired again. “I'll totally pay for that,” the stripper said, pointing to the mirror. “I'm really, really sorry.” Howard's flat, dry voice chipped in his own two cents. “It's just a few broken pieces of glass.” An implied get over it hung unspoken in the air. “You know what?” Neil carefully plucked the shards and collected them on top of the battered frame. “Let's call it a night.” He was trying to be subtle; he didn't want to tell his close friends to get out, but some alone time was sorely needed. “But—” Carol started, as always, unwilling to take the hint. But Louis caught the drift and touched her shoulder. “I think Neil's right,” he said gently. “There's been enough celebrating for one night.” By now, almost everyone else had made a silent and respectful exit. Carol and Louis picked up their jackets and left Neil to deal with the mess in peace. Howard lingered behind Neil for a moment, looking down at the mess of glass.

40

Anne Cain

“Did you purposefully go out of your way to be so disagreeable on your birthday?” Neil clenched his jaw. Being good to friends was one thing, but he had no issues telling an ex with performance issues in the bedroom to take a hike. On the other hand, Howard was his boss, so that killed the fuck off he had a burning urge to spit out. Ah, the quid pro quo of office romances that magazines like Cityscape never discussed. So in lieu of speaking his mind, Neil bit his tongue until it hurt. “You'll never be a happy man if this goes on, Neil.” Howard sighed and finally retreated. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Neil happened to be very happy, most of the time, when fate wasn't hell-bent on causing him trouble and stress. It wasn't his fault if he was destined for something cosmically tragic, especially where romance was concerned. If Howard doubted that, then all he had to do was drop his pants and take a look at his own minuscule penis, and he would be able to understand where Neil was coming from. “Oh, fuck it,” he grunted. Dropping the mangled frame back to the floor, Neil pushed himself up into a crouching position and wiped his palms clean on his thighs. His shoulder throbbed where he'd hit the bookcase, and he winced. First he needed some ice and a beer, and then he could worry about picking up the mess. Something rustled behind Neil. He turned around to find the stripper had slipped into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and he was now cleaning off the tabletops. He scooped several plastic cups into a garbage bag and offered Neil a sheepish smile. “I appreciate the gesture, but you can take off with everyone else.” Neil jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. “It's cool,” the stripper declined. “I was paid for two hours, so I might as well do something to help clean the mess.” He nodded at the broken mirror. “I am really, really sorry about that,” he repeated.

Beautiful Boys

41

The guy crossed the room with a couple of strides of his long legs. Now that he wasn't flailing all over the place in a bad attempt at a striptease, he carried himself like a man who was never quite sure what to do with himself. He kept slipping his hands over his thighs, like he wished he had pockets to slip them into, and he stalked around with a slight hunch, as if self-conscious of his height and gangly limbs. The kid so clearly did not make a regular living out of exotic dancing, and Neil felt a stroke of sympathy for the awkward young man. “Don't worry about it.” Neil set the broken frame back on the bookshelf. He picked up the piece of leather from the striptease, wadded it up into a ball, and tossed the bundle at the kid. “I broke it, technically.” Meaning, Neil was the one who was screwed over. The kid fumbled with the clothing as he caught it, almost dropping the pants. He certainly wasn't the graceful dancer type at all. “I, uh, I want to get you a replacement for the frame, at least.” He fumbled with his words as well. Half under his breath, he mumbled something that sounded like, “Hopefully it's not too expensive.” “Well…” Neil remembered walking into the galleria uptown on the I-35 a couple of years ago with one of his then-boyfriends. The decidedly pretentious postmodern decor and new age music wafting from the speakers hidden throughout the boutique seemed so appealing to Neil's honey, and whatever made his honey happy, right? Inspired by a burst of temporary insanity—what else could've motivated him to spend four figures on a two-by-three-foot piece of glass?—he bought the damn mirror, a decision that seemed particularly laden with buyer's regret. Especially since that relationship dissolved a couple of weeks after the shopping spree and now that designer thing was lying in a broken heap on his apartment floor. “I was thinking of getting rid of the mirror anyway.” “You sure?” The kid looked significantly more than relieved, if not somewhat skeptical.

42

Anne Cain

“Sure.” Neil shrugged. There was no sense in crying over spilled milk anyway; those seven years of bad luck were inevitable. “Want a beer? God knows I do.” “That would be great.” Neil made a beeline for the kitchen and was aghast to find a whole tray of Louis's inedible snacks on the counter. Throwing them into the trash seemed cruel to Louis, but offering them to the kid in the living room seemed even crueler. “Hey, I think I can fix the frame,” the guy shouted from the living room. “Oh yeah?” Neil fished around in the cabinets for some wheat pretzels. He also pulled out an empty freezer bag. “Only the joiners snapped. I can take this into the wood shop on campus tomorrow and make it good as new.” “What school do you go to?” Neil asked, retrieving a couple of beers from the fridge. He grabbed some ice cubes from a tray in the freezer as well, placing them in the Ziploc bag and then wrapping the whole bundle in a dish towel to create a makeshift ice pack. He held it against his sore shoulder as he made his way out of the kitchen. “UT?” “Naw,” the kid called back. “I'm taking classes at the junior college.” He returned to the living room to find the kid bent over the pile of damage. The younger man was tossing the larger pieces of busted glass into the garbage bag, making a kind effort to clean up the mess. Neil had to pause midway into the living room, so captivated by the younger man that he wanted to take in the view. The kid's pose, his posture, his body—everything—was beautiful. The stripper costume and act had masked all his natural presence, and that charming, sweet air of shyness once again struck Neil as being adorable. The man's broad, muscular back created a sweeping curve down to his backside, where the start of his crack was visible just above the low-slung waistband. He

Beautiful Boys

43

had big hands and a thick, muscular neck, two features that stood out as he diligently worked to pick up the shards of glass. He hit the gym regularly, obviously, and a splattering of freckles that disappeared under the collar of his T-shirt suggested he spent plenty of time in the sun. A basketball player, most likely. Neil had no trouble picturing him expertly running the ball on a tarcovered outdoor court at the junior college, easily making a dunk. Or maybe the lanky guy just enjoyed being stretched out in a lounge chair beside a swimming pool somewhere, sunshine cascading on his beautiful bronze body as he stripped off his clothes to sunbathe in the nude. If the man's hands were so big, his cock must be just as huge as the skintight leather pants had hinted at earlier. Neil marveled at how quickly his thoughts had spiraled from appreciative to obscene. It wasn't as though he could get anywhere with the kid. For all Neil knew, the other man could already be in a committed relationship or—and this would be particularly crushing—the guy could be straight. “Ow.” The kid swore and stuck a thumb in his mouth. Neil finished crossing the room with the two beers and crouched down next to his guest. He noticed a couple of red drops splattered a piece of glass on the floor. “You cut yourself? Let me see.” He leaned over for a better look and briefly indulged himself in a closer view of the kid's butt crack before focusing on the wound. “That's not too bad,” Neil assessed. “Think you got any glass in there?” The younger man shook his head. “It's just a cut this time, and it's not even that big. Usually, I'd be off to the ER by now for stitches.” His warm honey brown eyes brightened. “Hey, maybe you're my lucky charm or something.” “I doubt that.” Neil snorted. “I'm serious,” the guy explained. “Some people are clumsy, but I'm a walking disaster, you know?” He chuckled.

Anne Cain

44

Neil wasn't laughing. He cleared his throat and offered the guy one of the beers while trying not to dwell on thoughts of Jupiter's moons and ominous horoscopes. The guy nodded his thanks and twisted open the cap with the edge of his shirt. “My name isn't Jinx for nothing, I guess.” He grinned at Neil. Neil almost choked on the mouthful of beer he'd just started to swallow. Fate, Jupiter's moons, and Thursdays were never going to leave him the hell alone.

***** “…then there was the time I borrowed a friend's bike to make a pizza run, and I swear to God I have no idea how it happened, but the wheels just popped clear off the frame.” Jinx paused long enough for a breath and then a swallow of beer. “And you don't want to know what happened when I tried renting a scooter.” “You wrecked it.” Neil sat on the couch next to Jinx, listening to one story of tremendously rotten luck after another. The kid's rap sheet put Neil's issues to shame, so it wasn't too difficult to guess the outcome of Jinx's adventure with the scooter. “Six stitches on my butt.” Jinx nodded solemnly. “I landed on a cactus.” “A cactus,” Neil repeated flatly. “Yup.” Jinx opened his second bottle of beer. “What are the fucking chances of that ever happening to anyone, huh?” “Well, I'll be avoiding scooters from now on just in case.” Neil started laughing. “Maybe bicycles too.” Jinx rolled his eyes. “You don't have it anywhere near as bad as I do.” “I'm pretty unlucky,” Neil countered. “Last year, I lost my BlackBerry and my apartment keys, and the city towed my car by mistake—all in one week.” “Get out.” Jinx smacked himself on the knee. “That sucks, man.”

Beautiful Boys

45

“And you saw for yourself what just happened at tonight's party,” Neil continued. “I broke a fucking mirror. Do you know how many karma points that probably set me back?” “That happened only because I showed up.” Jinx winced. “Sorry.” Neil wished the guy would stop apologizing. So far, this conversation had been the best part of his birthday, and Jinx's company was turning out to be worth a dozen broken mirrors. “It was going to be horrible no matter what,” Neil assured him. “One of my exes was here.” “Ouch.” Jinx scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, that's pretty tense to deal with.” Neil sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The universe conspires to make my life miserable.” “Really?” Jinx gave him a dubious look, his thick, dark brows disappearing under the bangs falling across his forehead. “How?” How, indeed. Caught off guard by the question, Neil didn't have any immediate answers. The alcohol had already given him a light buzz, and thinking of a list of reasons didn't seem worth the effort right now. He laced his fingers together and cradled the back of his head as he leaned against the couch. “It just does, I suppose.” “But you've got such a sweet place here, and a great job.” Jinx shifted on the couch, half turning to face Neil. “You're not trying all sorts of crazy ways to make a buck.” “Like stripping at a gay man's birthday party?” “That's not so crazy.” Jinx scraped at the corner of his bottle label with a thumbnail. “I just stink at the whole dancing thing.” He laughed drily at himself. “Are you an athlete?” Neil found himself further charmed by the other man's self-deprecating nature. Not too many of the people he knew at the office

46

Anne Cain

were what he'd consider humble, not when they worked for the biggest magazine in the city. “Basketball,” Jinx explained. “I thought so.” Neil smiled. “So how did you get the job for tonight?” “A friend goes to the university, and one of his ex-roommates is interning where you work.” Jinx finished stripping the bottle clean of its blue and gold label. “He got word they were looking for someone for tonight, and he passed the news to Nate. He thought I'd be able do it for some cash to cover the month's rent. He knew I was a little short. Well—” He raised a hand over his head to indicate his height. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.” “Ah.” Neil chuckled. He wondered which of the two interns was the guilty party, and decided it had to be Andy. The guy talked about having buddies at the university, and he was openly gay. “Was 'Officer Nasty' your friend's idea?” “Mine,” Jinx admitted with a wince of embarrassment. “That's part of why I suck at the stripping thing, remember?” “That was a cheesy idea, Jinx.” Neil laughed. “What the hell were you thinking?” “I don't know.” Jinx started laughing. He had a sweet smile, and his sense of humor was contagious. “I've never been to a gay strip club or anything. I was winging it.” Neil sobered up some. He licked his lips, wondering how best to approach the question he'd had in the back of his mind ever since sitting down on the couch with Jinx. Popping out, Are you gay? seemed like too strong a come-on, and frankly, Neil wasn't sure that he actually wanted to move in that direction at all. Things always seemed to be more complicated in his life than they needed to be; maybe that's why he liked to dwell on the idea of fate and luck so much. If he didn't have the control in his life that he wanted, at least he could blame God's sense of humor for all the chance things that happened.

Beautiful Boys

47

“You look like you want to say something.” Jinx nudged him in the shoulder. “Not really.” Neil bit down on his lower lip. Jinx set his bottle on the coffee table and readjusted himself on the couch so he was facing Neil. “Okay, don't take this the wrong way…” “Generally, when someone starts a sentence with that intro, the recipient tends to do just that.” Neil cocked an eyebrow. “No, no,” Jinx tried reassure him. He looked down at his big hands clutching his knees, suddenly appearing nervous. “I just want to say this because, I don't know, I think you're a really nice person.” Neil almost rolled his eyes, but there was a deep sense of sincerity in Jinx's tone of voice that stopped him. “You barely know me,” Neil felt compelled to point out. “Some things you know about a man right away.” Jinx reached for his beer again, holding the bottle as if he'd needed something to do with those large, dexterous hands. “I can tell you're a good person, but I also have the feeling that you make your life pretty complicated.” That took Neil by surprise. He hadn't expected the kid to be so astute or so observant. Of course that was a pretty shallow assumption, he admitted to himself. Just because he was big and athletic didn't mean he wasn't smart or sensitive. Neil had bedded a couple of jocks in college, and he knew that stereotype of the strong, stupid athlete was just that—a stereotype. “I guess I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong.” Jinx set the bottle back on the table. “I should get going.” Neil did likewise with his own bottle. “No, you're right. Funny thing, I was thinking about that right before you said it.” “Wow.” Jinx nodded. “I knew it.” “Are you always this good at reading people?”

Anne Cain

48

“Sometimes.” Jinx smoothed his hands over his lanky thighs. “But it's like you were stressed about a lot of different things tonight, and it showed on your face.” “Hmm.” Neil didn't know what else to say. The guy was right. “Have you ever heard of those guys who simplified their lives?” Jinx asked. “Can't say that I have.” Curious, Neil rested his elbow on the back of the couch and listened. “Well, these guys over in California or somewhere like that decided to simplify their lives.” “I gathered that much already.” Neil chuckled. Jinx grinned. “Shut up and let me finish.” He swept a hand through his dark hair. “So, these guys quit their jobs, get rid of their houses and cars, and just become homeless. Totally homeless. They take baths at a shelter, eat and sleep at a church, and then spend their entire day just hanging around the library reading books. All day long, just learning. Isn't that something?” “It's not entirely unappealing,” Neil joked. “Maybe that's what we should do.” Jinx leaned forward. “Forget about all this materialism and crap.” “Nah.” Neil dropped back against the sofa cushions and rubbed his tired eyes. “I like my materialistic crap. Besides, someone in society has to keep working to pay taxes so the library can stay open, and donate money to the church so they can serve meals.” “I guess my point is that if people can make things really complicated for themselves, they can make them really simple too,” Jinx said thoughtfully. Neil stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I suppose you're right.” “Think about it.” Jinx rose from the couch. “I'm gonna get going.” “You don't have to.” Neil straightened. More than anything, he wanted the guy to stay and spend the night. But Jinx frowned, and Nick quickly realized he'd stuck his foot in his mouth. He hadn't even intended for anything sexual

Beautiful Boys

49

to go on, he just enjoyed the other man's company, but he knew immediately he must have given the wrong impression. “We can talk for a while longer, finish off some of those gazillion snacks that are in the kitchen.” “I've got classes tomorrow morning,” Jinx explained quietly. “And I'm already seeing someone.” “Oh.” Neil swallowed. God, he felt stupid. “I didn't mean it that way,” he backpedaled. “I know,” Jinx said quickly, flashing a tight smile. He moved away from the couch and bent to retrieve the broken frame from the floor. “You really don't have to do that.” Neil stood up from the couch. “I really want to,” Jinx insisted. He made a straight line for the door, his long legs carrying him across the short distance very quickly. Neil followed, his face burning from embarrassment at having handled things poorly. He wanted to apologize but wasn't sure what for. “Thanks for the beers.” Jinx snatched up his bag with the stripper's costume inside. “Sure.” Jinx paused at the entrance and gave Neil another quick smile. “Is it okay if I drop by tomorrow with this?” He held up the broken pieces of the frame. “Yeah, of course.” “Cool. 'Night.” Jinx waved and ducked out into the hall. Neil slowly closed the door after him and rested his forehead on the frame. Jinx was already involved with someone. “Damn,” Neil sighed. “Just my luck.”

***** Neil honestly never expected to hear back from Jinx ever again. He tried to ignore the annoyingly optimistic “maybes” and “what-ifs” that kept surfacing in his thoughts every five or ten seconds, though deep down he really was

50

Anne Cain

hopeful. Slouching off to bed to nurse another beer and his sore shoulder, he called and left a long-winded monologue about the night's events on Dean's voice mail. Even though his brother wasn't available, that small hang-up didn't stop Neil from shooting the shit one way or another. He couldn't help but end his message on a slightly censorious note, though, considering Dean had only called him once in the last week to leave a vaguely show-off-ish message: “Having the best sex of my life. Neil, I think I'm in love.” “Whoever you're fucking over there, it better be some hot Mediterranean guy and not your ex.” Neil sighed and hung up. Before closing his eyes, he vowed not to think about Jinx's lanky, athletic body for the rest of the night, but that was one temptation that just screamed to be indulged. Tossing restlessly for ten minutes culminated in a pleasant, half-hour period of masturbation in bed, with Neil just managing to roll a condom over his swollen cock before spurting a flood of cum. And Jinx continued to dominate his thoughts for the rest of the next day. Neil woke up, feeling surprisingly cheerful, and saw Jinx's charming smile in almost everyone he ran into on the way to work: the cute barista at the coffee house, the guy at the gas station, even the cop who gave him a ticket for rolling through a stop sign when Neil thought he saw Jinx on the sidewalk a block ahead. Carol met his good mood with pure surprise. “You're not mad about the whole thing with the mirror?” she asked him when he got to the office, both eyebrows up. “Nope.” Neil took too big a slurp from his latte and burned his tongue. Oh well, a lightly scalded tongue wasn't the same as getting an ass full of cactus needles. He chuckled to himself, and Carol stared with even more surprise. “Are you…okay?” she asked, sounding worried. “Why wouldn't I be?” “You haven't been this upbeat in a long time.” She blinked. “Wait, did you hit your head last night? That was a pretty bad fall.”

Beautiful Boys

51

“No.” Neil touched his shoulder over his sports coat. “My shoulder's still a little sore, though.” “You're doped up on painkillers, aren't you?” “Carol, I'm fine.” Neil kissed her on the cheek. “And thank you for trying to throw me a nice party yesterday. I appreciate it.” “Oh my God.” Her eyes went wide. “You were abducted by aliens and replaced with a happy Neil robot programmed to fool us all.” “There you go.” He laughed, shaking his head as he wandered over to his desk. He spent the rest of the morning allowing his thoughts drift back to parts of his conversation with Jinx, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, he was staring at the clock, anxiously waiting for the earliest time he could duck out of the office to go home. Neil didn't realize how much he'd been looking forward to seeing Jinx again until midnight came and went without any sign of the guy at the apartment. Neil lay stretched out on the couch with the lights off, listening to the smooth, moody jazz on one of NPR's late-night radio shows and swallowing his disappointment along with a half a bottle of cabernet. “He's already with someone, or did you conveniently try to forget?” Neil somberly reminded himself. “Someone significantly less 'complicated,' I'm sure.” Whatever spark he'd thought he'd felt between them had either been imagined or overly exaggerated. His gaze settled on the empty space on his wall where the mirror should have been, and Neil released a slow, depressed sigh. He drifted off to sleep listening to a classic Ella Fitzgerald song that for some reason caused him to dream of an Italian restaurant in New York where a sexy Tuscan waiter in basketball shorts kept offering Neil cappuccinos and cannolis.

***** Neil woke up with the taste of sugar and cream on his tongue. The details of the dream were fleeting, but he recalled enough to know he'd finally indulged in what the waiter had been offering—which hadn't been a pastry in the strict

52

Anne Cain

sense after all. Neil rolled out of bed, hard as a pole, and padded barefoot toward the half bath to relieve his bladder and erection. He stepped on something sharp along the way, a tiny shard of glass left over from the broken mirror, and limped the last few steps to the sink. “Just great,” he mumbled, wincing as he pulled the small piece from ball of his foot and rinsed the cut under warm water. He had seven years of this shit coming. Hurrah. The doorbell rang while he tried to pee, the trickle achingly slow in coming while his stiffie refused to ease down. “Just a sec,” Neil yelled out in a sleeproughened voice toward the living room. He stuffed his semihard dick back into his wrinkled khakis and cut a wide circle around the area where the mirror had fallen, hoping to avoid any more hidden pieces of glass. By the time he got to the door and looked through the peephole, the hallway outside the apartment was empty. Neil opened the door to see if he could catch a glimpse of whoever it had been by the stairs or elevator, and found a brown paperwrapped package propped against his doorway. Neil was scrawled in black china marker in one corner of the two-by-threefoot package. The mirror frame. “Hey!” Neil called out and trotted into the hall. “Hey, Jinx?” He stared down the staircase to find no sign of his friend at the bottom landing, and he knew the tall, fast-moving guy would be long gone from the building by now. Heart pounding from the brief rush of excitement, Neil returned to his apartment and quietly closed the door with the package under one arm. He unwrapped it on the coffee table, giving himself a paper cut on one edge of the wrapping. Not only had Jinx repaired the frame beautifully—any area where he'd had to glue together a piece had been sanded and revarnished, the pungent but pleasing scent of turpentine still fresh on the wood—but he'd replaced the mirror. Some light chips and flecks were visible on the glass, and Neil envisioned Jinx scouring thrift shops or bargain home decorator shops for this.

Beautiful Boys

53

Somehow, this made the gesture even more sweet and thoughtful, and Neil's gut told him the spark he had nearly convinced himself was imaginary did, in fact, exist. He couldn't understand why Jinx hadn't stayed to deliver the package, but for whatever crazy reason, Neil suddenly doubted that there was a significant other in Jinx's life. Determined to find Jinx and take a chance, or at least to thank the other man face-to-face, Neil set the mirror down on to the table. But first, he was going to need a Band-Aid for the paper cut.

***** Loud rock music blasted through the wood shop at the junior college. The barn-sized building had enormous hinged windows to allow good crossventilation, but Neil's nose still prickled at the sawdust hovering in the air and the tangy smells of varnish and turpentine. A kid in a white, paint-splattered shirt was working at the big lathe at the table closest to the door, but the rest of the machines and saws were unoccupied. Neil guessed that a lot of folks didn't come in on Saturdays unless they were behind on projects for a class or some such. He waited for the guy to finish making a final sweep with the power sander before approaching. “What's up?” The kid lifted his safety goggles to better squint at Neil. “I'm trying to find someone who might hang out here a lot. Tall, well-built, likes to play basketball…” When Neil was met with a blank look, he added, “People call him Jinx.” “Oh yeah.” The kid nodded knowingly. “Great guy, but watch out. Accidents follow him around like the cloud of dust on that one Peanuts character, Pigpen, or whatever the hell his name is.” “That's him.” Neil chuckled. He rubbed the corner of the bandage wrapped around his thumb. “Know where I can find him?”

54

Anne Cain

“He was in here all last night working on a project. A frame, I think.” The guy paused to shake some sawdust from his shaggy blond hair. “He left after I showed up, and was looking pretty tired.” “He spent the whole night? Working?” A swell of affection surged deep inside Neil's chest. The kid nodded. “My guess is that he's crashing at his boyfriend's dorm room.” “Oh.” The same surge of affection immediately plummeted into a dismal, crushing feeling in the pit of his belly. Neil's bubble had been effectively popped. He'd convinced himself that Jinx's lover didn't exist, when of course he'd known better. “Did you need something else?” The kid looked anxious to be done with this conversation so he could return to work. “No, it's more that I…” Neil licked his lips. “I guess I was hoping I could find him here. I wanted to say thanks because that was a gift for me he was working on.” “In that case, just go down a few blocks to the dorms. He should be crashing there. Everyone knows him, so they can buzz you in or whatever.” “Thanks.” Against his better judgment, Neil made his way to the dorms. He couldn't explain why he was doing this to himself, except that he did legitimately want to thank Jinx for all his hard work. The thought of catching Jinx with a lover, though…that hurt more than Neil wanted to admit. But it would serve him right for chasing a crazy and stupid notion of romance and give him closure. Even now, if he looked inside himself closely enough, a kernel of expectation refused to die out. When Neil arrived at the dorm, there were college kids playing touch football on the grass outside the main office and others messing around on the basketball courts next to the tall building. He didn't see Jinx among them and

Beautiful Boys

55

wandered inside to the housing office, where the monitor knew exactly who he was talking about. “Jinx's with Nathan, right?” The young man looked up from his history textbook, where he was dutifully highlighting every single line on the doublecolumned page. Neil had an uncomfortable flashback from his own experience cramming for American History 101. Apparently, seven years between the time he'd finished college and now had not been nearly long enough. “I think he is.” Neil shuffled in place, convinced now more than ever that he'd made a big mistake in coming here. “But it's okay. I'll talk to him later.” “Hang on, here comes Nathan.” The short, wiry brunet loped through glass doors, a bag of takeout tucked under an arm. The dorm monitor called out to him, and he joined them at the desk. He glanced at Neil, and a look of recognition crossed his face. “Oh, hey,” Nathan said. “You work with Andy, for Cityscape magazine, right?” “Yeah.” Neil swallowed. So this was the kid Jinx was sleeping with. Definitely cute, and probably not fixated on horoscopes and karma. Neil sighed. “So is Jinx crashing at your place?” the housing monitor asked. “Sure is.” Nathan spoke so nonchalantly about it, completely unaware that he'd just done a Mexican hat dance all over the remnants of Neil's heart. “What's up?” “This guy wanted to talk to him.” Neil had been sort of caught up in checking out the man he'd unconsciously started thinking of as “the other man.” Nathan seemed to be one of those very nonathletic, overly brainy types who surprised their lovers by being fucking machines in bed. “Really?” Nathan started looking him over as well. “Yes. He was working on a gift for me last night,” Neil said. “I just wanted to give him my thanks.”

56

Anne Cain

“Oh, sure.” Nathan shrugged. “Come on.” They rode up the elevator in silence. Neil kept flicking glances in Nathan's direction, trying to figure him out. In spite of the situation, there was something decidedly “unboyfriendly” about his behavior. Like he wasn't romantically invested in Jinx. If Neil had heard that his own boyfriend spent an entire night working on a present for another man, he'd be more than a little curious, and possibly jealous. But Nathan didn't seem to really care. When they got off on Nathan's floor, Neil tested the waters. “Have you guys been together long?” he asked. Nathan barely glanced over as he fished around in his pockets for his key. “What?” “Just curious.” “Since the third grade, maybe.” Nathan shrugged. “I don't know.” “Ah.” That was actually a fucking long time. None of Neil's friends had ever lasted with their school-yard crushes, and a tickle of jealousy made him crinkle his nose. “Must be nice having a boyfriend you know so well.” “Huh? What?” Nathan shot him a surprised look, eyes wide. “Who?” Admittedly, that wasn't the reaction Neil expected at all. “Jinx,” he said flatly. “Your boyfriend.” “Oh.” Relief replaced Nathan's shock. “We're not together—we're just friends.” Confused, but also pleasantly surprised, Neil scratched the back of his head. “The guy at the wood shop said you two were involved.” “A long, long time ago.” Nathan unlocked his door and stepped inside the dark room. He tossed the paper bag onto the top mattress of a bunk bed set up against the wall, and he snapped open the blinds of the window over his desk. “Wake up, Jinx. Lunch is here, and you've got a guest.”

Beautiful Boys

57

A burly, blanket-wrapped figure stretched and groaned on the top bunk. Jinx tried to sit up and bopped his head on the artificial ceiling. Rubbing his forehead, he yawned and glanced around. As soon as he saw Neil, he froze. “Hi.” Neil offered him a smile. “Hi.” Jinx dropped both hands to the paper bag stuffed with takeout. They stared at each other, both clearly unsure of what to say. Especially with Nathan leaning against his desk with his arms folded across his chest, watching them. “You mind giving us a couple of minutes, Nate?” Jinx swung his bare legs over the edge of the bunk. Nathan dropped his arms to his sides. “Fine, fine. But hustle out of here before my roommate gets back.” He grabbed his backpack and retreated out into the hall, despite his obvious curiosity. “He's not your boyfriend,” Neil said as soon as the door was closed and he was alone with Jinx. Jinx shook his head and hopped down from the bunk. He was in nothing but boxers, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep and his hair a tousled mess. He fumbled around for his jeans, digging them out of a pile at the foot of the bunk bed. “Did the mirror come out okay?” he asked without looking up at Neil. “More than okay. It's beautiful.” Jinx flashed him a sweet smile. “Cool.” “Thank you, Jinx.” “Don't worry about it.” The younger man waved him off. “It wasn't anything.” Neil came up behind Jinx and touched one of those rounded, lean shoulders. The contact sent a shiver through both men, and Neil felt Jinx leaning into his palm. He let the touch flow into an embrace, and he found himself wrapping an arm around the man's taut waist. Jinx placed a hand over Neil's, steering the explorative touch lower to his abdominal region and the

58

Anne Cain

band of the jeans Jinx had just slipped into. Clearly, they both shared the same train of thought. Neil sealed it with soft kiss on the Jinx's back, right between the shoulder blades. “I want you to come have lunch at my place,” he murmured against Jinx's warm skin. Whether they actually ate anything before jumping into bed would be up to how fast they wanted to move things. “I can't.” Jinx gently pulled away and slumped down on the lower bunk. “This is what I don't understand,” Neil said, flustered. “We're both attracted to each other, so what's wrong? We'll give it a try and see what happens.” He leaned in to take a seat beside Jinx on the bed and misjudged the distance between his forehead and the frame of the top bunk. He smacked himself and winced. “Ow.” “That's why.” Jinx raised his hands helplessly. “I'm bad luck.” “That's ridiculous,” Neil assured him, flat-out. “No, it's true.” Jinx ran both hands through his hair. “It's a miracle I haven't caused you to break a leg or anything yet.” “I don't believe this.” Neil blinked at Jinx. “Is that why you tried to tell me you were involved with someone? With your friend Nathan?” “Duh.” Jinx leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. “And you do believe it. You know how luck and horoscopes work. All that shit is real.” “Yeah, but…” “But what?” “But…it's different now.” Jinx gave him an incredulous look. “I'm serious,” Neil said. “I can't explain it, but I feel different. So what if I have bad luck every once in a while?” “Is that what happened to your thumb?”

Beautiful Boys

59

“No, that was just a paper cut.” To Neil's surprise, he discovered that he truly believed in what he was saying. “It didn't have anything to do with luck at all. I just wasn't careful opening up the package with the mirror.” Wow. A breakthrough. After weeks of blaming luck and the stars and everything else under the sun for his relationship woes, Neil finally had to admit there was only one person calling the shots: himself. “But don't you get it? I wrapped the package and gave you a paper cut.” Jinx let out a flustered puff of air. “Eventually any guy I try to date realizes I'm surrounded by bad karma or whatever, and then they run away while they have the chance. That's one part I left out of my cactus story.” He looked at Neil with a pained expression. “There was another guy with me on the scooter.” “Jinx—” “You're a nice guy, Neil. I don't want you to end up taking this chance and jinxing your life. Landing on a cactus is not fun.” Neil reached over and took Jinx by the hand. “Trust me when I tell you that an ass full of cactus needles would be more than worth the company.” He squeezed Jinx's fingers gently. “And to be honest, I think my luck started to turn around for the better as soon as you walked through my door on my birthday.” Hopeful, Jinx looked over at him. Neil leaned in, giving in to the desire he'd had to kiss this beautiful young man since the night they'd spent talking on the couch. Just before their lips met, their teeth clinked together. “We better stock up on some rabbits' feet before we go out on our first date.” Neil laughed. “Just in case.” “Way ahead of you.” Jinx reached into his back pocket and pulled out a key ring with a small white fuzzy bauble. A sticker on the “foot” read, 100 percent polyester. “Do fake rabbits' feet work?” Neil couldn't help chuckling.

60

Anne Cain

“So far so good,” Jinx said. “I picked it up yesterday at the thrift shop where I found your replacement mirror.” “Then let's try that again.” Neil moved back in. This time, his mouth melted against warm, moist lips in the kind of deep, cosmic kiss that could only be destined.

***** Neil tumbled into his bed, Jinx landing on the springy mattress beside him. Their lips found each other again with almost no conscious thought from either man. Neil didn't have to think twice about what he was doing with Jinx, or where they were headed, physically and emotionally. Their mouths were drawn together in one long kiss after another, and it felt wonderful. The attraction had carried them all the way back to Neil's place and into the sheets. “You.” Neil sucked on Jinx's lower lip. “Taste.” He swabbed the dimpled corners of the Jinx's mouth with his tongue. “Wonderful.” He nibbled on Jinx's chin. The guy tasted like bath soap and sawdust, a little bit of tangy sweat helping to bring out the boyish flavors underneath. Everything about Jinx was adorable. Did Jinx himself know that? “Hey.” Neil brushed a hand over Jinx's flushed cheek. “I think you're pretty fucking cute.” The closest thing to an intelligible response from Jinx was a deep, guttural “uhhhh” murmured against Neil's lips. Jinx wrapped his long, muscular arms around Neil's waist and rolled on top of him, his kisses becoming faster and more urgent. A hard knob dug into Neil's thighs, Jinx's erection saying Hello! “Let me.” Neil rubbed his hands over Jinx's broad shoulders, tugging up the thin cotton of his T-shirt as he went along. Fingertips brushed hot skin already sticky with perspiration that had nothing to do with the short drive sans-A/C but that instead was caused by the sweltering tension and anticipation roiling between them the whole ride over. And now Neil had Jinx

Beautiful Boys

61

ready to ride on top of him, the man's gorgeous, lanky frame straddling his lower torso. “Please,” Jinx said. He pushed down with his hips, digging his hard, restrained cock into Neil's thigh again. But when Neil swept his hands down to start working on Jinx's fly, the young man pulled away. “Hold on.” Jinx grinned, breathless. “Nu-uh,” Neil protested. “I want in your pants now, honey.” “But I still owe you a strip for your birthday.” “What?” Jinx straightened up but still straddled Neil. Grabbing the hem of his askew T-shirt, he slowly brought it up over his head. He swayed from side to side as the shirt pulled away from his skin and flexed an incredibly sexy set of six-pack abs. Something was very much different this time, compared to his previous attempt at a striptease. Jinx moved like he was sure of himself, confident. The odd sense of grace Neil had observed in him that night on the couch was back. “Hey, this is pretty sexy,” Neil whispered. He shifted underneath Jinx, letting his own hard-on rub against the bulging package between the other man's legs. Jinx tensed and shivered at the contact and let out a shaky breath of air. “Well, it's not the same as last time…” He actually blushed. “No kidding.” Just when Neil didn't think the guy could get any more adorable. But streaks of sweat glistened on his chest and rounded shoulders and drew Neil's attention to a series of faint tan lines. Jinx obviously favored sleeveless shirts while sweating it up on the basketball courts, and the image only turned Neil on more. “I'll say it again.” Neil reached up to trace a fingertip over those tan lines, grinning. “You're fucking cute. And sexy.”

62

Anne Cain

Jinx returned the smile before leaning back. The arch in his torso emphasized the beautiful lines of cut muscle racing down past his navel and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. With one hand, he unfastened the button of his pants and dragged down the zipper. His breath came in shorter gasps now, matching Neil's growing excitement. “Oh fuck,” Jinx moaned. He reached into the part at the front of his boxers and hefted out his thick, swollen cock. Freed from the tight restraint of his jeans, the organ swelled in Jinx's hand and pointed straight at Neil. “Fuck,” Neil echoed, moaning it as well. He stroked his hands up along the insides of Jinx's thighs, eager to touch but willing to prolong the anticipation for the big payoff. Jinx was beautiful, though—large without being monstrous. The dark curls visible through the opening of his underwear framed the base of his penis and were nicely cropped and groomed. A clear, tempting droplet of precum oozed from the slit on the tip of his head. Gorgeous. Neil dropped his hands to his own groin, where his erection throbbed incessantly. He fumbled with his fly, definitely not exercising the same kind of sensual polish Jinx had used to pull away the gift wrapping on his own cock. But that wasn't the point so much as just getting his erection in hand was. Groaning, he squeezed his length and lifted it free from his underwear. Neil brought it up to meet Jinx's, and he gently pressed the two cocks together. “Oh, oh shit,” Jinx cried out, his chest heaving. More precum leaked out of his slit as a deep crimson blush washed over his piece. Neil swallowed his own cries, but the contact was fucking electric. The heat from Jinx's organ flowed in through Neil's sex, spreading down to his balls and squeezing the air out of his lungs. Both cocks stiffened into two quivering rods of wood, vibrating from the rush of blood pounding into their shafts as their pulses soared. Neil used both hands to stroke them at once. A jolt of pleasure burst through him, finally wrenching a throaty howl from the back of his throat. “Oh, God,” Jinx gasped. Every inch of him trembled. “I want that inside me so bad.”

Beautiful Boys

63

Surprised, Neil stopped stroking. He'd expected Jinx to be a top. Most jocks were. “Are you sure?” “Fuck.” Jinx squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering. “Yes. Right now. I don't know how much longer I can hold out.” Turned out he could hold out for an impressive amount of time. Both men raced to rip off the remnants of their clothing, and while Jinx eagerly fingered himself open with a generous dollop of lube from the nightstand, Neil tried to roll a condom on. Except the sight of Jinx finger fucking himself was too hot for him to keep his head straight—either the one on his shoulders or the one on his cock. He tore three rubbers before he finally had to ask Jinx to stop. “Sorry.” Jinx's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “It's the bad luck thing again,” he panted. “No, it's the 'you're too damn hot' thing,” Neil assured him. He tossed the last busted condom over the edge of the bed and dropped back against the pillows. Grinning what he hoped was a very charming and alluring grin, he cupped his balls. “How about giving me a hand?” He didn't need to ask twice. Jinx happily crawled toward him on the mattress, grinning playfully and somewhat shyly as well. Leaning over Neil on all fours, he took the new rubber Neil offered him and peeled off the wrapper. But he hesitated before blanketing the stiff, perky cock a few inches from his lips and hands. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Neil chuckled at him. “I don't think it's going to get much harder than it is now.” Honestly, Neil couldn't remember the last time he'd been this aroused for a lover. “I dunno…” Jinx gave him lopsided grin. “Come on.” Neil laughed, especially when Jinx burned an even brighter shade of what he affectionately coined “embarrassment pink.” “Roll it on so I can bonk you senseless, cutie.”

64

Anne Cain

“Okay.” Jinx was leaning close enough that his warm breath tickled Neil's cock. He rolled the thin rubber over Neil's erection, his gentle motions sending a pleasant tingling sensation rippling through the hard pole. Then he straddled Neil's waist, his long legs pinning Neil's sides as he slowly lowered himself. They both groaned and shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position. Jinx had stretched himself, but not enough. He spread his thighs as wide apart as they'd go but hesitated as soon as he felt the bulbous head of Neil's cock press against his anus. “Go slow,” Neil warned. He held his cock in place, barely able to resist the urge to thrust up with his hips and bury himself to the hilt in that tight passage. But Jinx's hole still needed to be coaxed open for the act to be pleasurable to them both. He suspected the only thing Jinx had had in his ass for a long while was his own finger. “Easy,” Neil soothed. To help, he slowly moved his slick head over the tense hole. “Get used to how I feel.” “You feel fucking fantastic.” Jinx gulped. He braced himself against the headboard with his long arms stretched out. “I want you. Bad.” He groaned out the last word, his voice gruff and barely recognizable. “Whenever you're ready.” Neil's voice cracked from holding in his lust. Once they were used to each other's bodies, there would be no need to hold back like this. The hard part was going to be not jumping each other's bones every five minutes. Jinx let out a slow breath of air and lowered himself onto Neil's cock. His hole refused to open immediately, and it resisted swallowing the plump head. The pressure on his hard organ brought a shuddering cry from deep inside Neil's belly, and he bucked up against the tightening ring. “Oh,” Jinx moaned. “Oh, God…” Neil thrust up, pushing his cockhead through the hole. Jinx bounced with the push, yelping from shock more than pain.

Beautiful Boys

65

“Neil,” he cried out. “I want more.” And Neil gave it to him. He gave two more pumps with his hips, wedging himself deeper to feel more of that wonderful tightness closing in around him. The pressure squeezing down on his cock worsened, driving him in a frenzied determination to keep going, to keep pushing. Grunting, he pitched upward and lifted off the bed to get more of his shaft buried in that hot, tightening channel. He wanted to have Jinx all around him, needed to have the man riding the fire swelling up into his rigid pole. “Fuck!” Jinx screamed. He sat down on Neil's cock, hard, a spasm racing through his body and deep in his channel. From one second to the next, Neil was suddenly embraced by the searing heat of Jinx's core and the rippling walls of his passage. He felt only the pleasure surging through him from his cock as it rammed deep into Jinx's ass, pegging the sweet spot that would drive them both wild. Words were lost to countless primal cries and whimpers as both men gave themselves to their sex—their lovemaking. Neil writhed on the bed, stroking Jinx's cock as the sexy man bounced on top of him. They both spiraled toward that moment of uncontrollable bliss, rising to a climax that was going to leave them sated like never before but also thirsty for more. Neil bucked his hips faster, and Jinx rode him harder. They moved in unison, working for the same goal of releasing the passion between them in a moment of pure ecstasy. “Oh, God!” Jinx broke first. His warm spray coated Neil's belly a split second before Neil felt himself cut loose deep inside of his lover. They rode out the orgasm in a tangle of limbs and kisses, their bodies joined together until Neil was too exhausted to hold on, and Jinx crumpled on top of him in a happy but tired heap. Neil lost track of how long they just lay there, holding each other in the late-afternoon light. Neither of them seemed willing—or able—to move after. “Want something to eat?” Neil kissed the top of Jinx's head. “A beer and some takeout, maybe?”

66

Anne Cain

“Let's just stay here for a while,” Jinx murmured. “Hey, we can't do that again unless we get some energy,” Neil teased. “You were amazing.” “You know,” Jinx said softly. “It's always my rotten luck to end up in bed with someone who doesn't plan to stick around, and that's even before my accidents chase 'em away.” He buried his face against the side of Neil's neck. “I want this moment to last awhile, I guess.” “Hey.” Neil coaxed Jinx to look up at him, and he met those handsome lips with a deep, tender kiss. Their tongues touched, and that warm, pleasant, Jinxy flavor filled Neil's mouth. He drew back, trailing his fingers through his new boyfriend's sweaty hair. “Trust me. I think we're going to be together for a very, very long time. Rabbits' feet and all.” “Good.” Jinx beamed.

Beautiful Boys

67

Chapter Three Calculus and Condoms

Nathan eyed the bag of takeout at the edge of his desk. It had been hours since Jinx took off with his new boyfriend, the lunch abandoned and forgotten. Jinx wasn't coming back, at least not tonight. Nathan smiled to himself; it felt good to know his best friend had found someone to be happy with. Plus, he had Jinx's portion of the takeout to enjoy for dinner. He was reaching for the food when the door burst open, letting in a blast of the loud, thumping music from the party down the hall. Startled, Nathan paused with one hand on the bag, feeling like a cat with its paw in the fishbowl. And meooow…it was Gage. Tall, sexy, well-endowed Gage filling the doorway with hands balled into fists and his handsome face set in a scowl. “I'm sick of this shit!” he bellowed. From his seat at the desk, Nathan shrugged helplessly at his roommate. “Everyone has fun at Les's Saturday-night parties.” So what if the beer was always too warm and the food shitty? The sixty-plus people crowded into the dorm's cramped common area downstairs led to close contact between plenty of hard, gyrating male bodies as they thrashed to the music. Nathan had kissed and fondled dozens of horny frat boys throughout the semester—enough of them to seriously love Les for hosting these weekly bashes. He just wished he could get one guy in particular out on the dance floor to grind up against.

68

Anne Cain

“No, the party's not the problem,” Gage muttered. He closed the door behind him and tossed his backpack on to the floor, giving it a kick for good measure. The bag skidded across the linoleum to rest at Nathan's feet. Textbooks spilled out from the broken zipper across the top, and he reached over, his beat-up desk chair creaking under the shift in weight. He picked up the ugly puke green textbook with a jumble of equations printed across the cover. “Calculus, again?” Nathan asked, one eyebrow cocked at his friend. “Fuck!” Gage collapsed on the lower bunk against the far wall. Nathan's bunk. “I'll take that as a yes,” Nathan croaked. Maybe if he closed his mouth instead of gaping at Gage every time the blisteringly attractive guy sauntered into the room, he'd have more spit to swallow with. One would think he'd be used to having the hunk around, but no. After weeks of sharing close quarters with the Gage, Nathan still found him relentlessly attractive. And relentlessly untouchable. With a low sigh, he watched his friend stretch out widthwise across the messy sheets, the long, lean, and beautiful body a poor fit on the narrow mattress. “So what's the problem?” Nathan ventured. Conversation was good—it might distract him from the perverted thoughts of jumping his friend currently prancing through his mind. In a poor excuse for a response, Gage clutched the pillow to his face and smothered another cry of frustration. Nathan tried to swallow. The blankets and the pillowcases were going to be covered in Gage's smell, a delicious mixture of body spray, sweat, and sunshine. Gage spent a lot of time studying on the grass under the banyan trees in the courtyard outside the frat house. He liked being outdoors, and the span of golden tan, toned skin that peeked from under the hem of his shirt

Beautiful Boys

69

attested to his love for sunshine and grass. Meanwhile, the swelling erection between Nathan's thighs attested to his love for that sun-kissed flesh. The sight of Gage lying helpless, legs spread wide as they dangled over the edge of the bed, set Nathan's pulse racing. Did Gage have any sense at all for the kind of sexual tension he stirred? For God's sake, the man's baggy jeans did abso-fucking-lutely nothing to hide the mound of cock and balls at his crotch. A shadow under the fly traced the counter of a fat, pointed tip, the head of his dick, and not for the first time Nathan suspected Gage was circumcised. He'd like to find out for sure, though, using a thorough examination with hands and lips. Hell, yeah. Nathan squirmed at the thought. He caught himself rubbing the front of his pants, his erection kicking against each stroke. Biting back a groan, he thrust his hips against his palm, and the damn chair creaked under his shifting weight again. Gage tossed the pillow aside with a huff. Nathan jerked his hand away from his boner and swiveled around to face the desk again, heart pounding. It's not like he could explain getting caught with the hard-on or why he was only a couple of tugs away from officially masturbating. Gage had no clue how wildly he stirred up Nathan's sex drive. Whenever he dressed for classes in the morning or they bumped into each other in the dorm showers, those quick glimpses of Gage's penis were pure torture to Nathan. “I don't know what the hell I'm going to do,” Gage moaned. Do me, Nathan begged silently. You can shove that monster of a cock up my ass or in my throat all night long. The rave music pulsing through the walls had a great rhythm going to ride along with. “That professor hates my guts,” Gage continued, oblivious to Nathan's queer, dirty fantasies involving his cock and box after box of Trojans. “I can't imagine anyone hating your guts.” Nathan sighed. The pillow smacked him on the back of his head.

Anne Cain

70

“Trust me, this prick does,” Gage growled. “He has it in for the entire class, as a matter of fact. Only one person out of twenty-two is getting a B. The rest of us are struggling to hold on to our C's.” Nathan's imagination immediately raced to all the parts of Gage he wanted to hold on to. Those round shoulders, that sexy ass, the fat package between his thighs… But his roommate's situation sounded pretty grave, and concern won out over lust. Using the pillow to cover his erection, Nathan swiveled back around. Gage was a serious student, a year ahead of Nathan. Sure, he partied every once in a while—this was the house on campus for keggers—but Gage worked hard for his grades too. Usually too busy cramming to fit sex into his schedule, he hardly went on dates and had never brought a girl up to their room. Feeling like a selfish dick, Nathan was thrilled over the lack of girlfriends. It helped fuel his hopeless dreams of one night sucking off that sexy piece of meat sleeping in the bunk on top of him. But as Nathan eyed his roommate, he noticed the dark circles under Gage's eyes, the frustration tensing the muscles in his neck and shoulders. Gage looked stressed and worried. He could probably use a good fuck right now to relax. Nathan almost offered. He chickened out a split second before blurting out the proposition, figuring that would be stretching his duties as a roommate a little too far, and let out a puff of air. “This instructor is really giving you trouble, isn't he?” “I need to pass this class to stay in the engineering program.” Gage rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “If he flunks me on the midterms with some trick question, I'm screwed.” Oh, God… I'd love to be screwed by you, Gage. Nathan clutched the pillow so hard, he thought he'd squeeze the stuffing out. But all mindless, animal lusting aside, Gage needed help. “I have an idea.” Nathan licked his lips. “But if things go wrong, it could be bad.”

Beautiful Boys

71

“How bad?” “We'd probably be kicked out,” Nathan admitted. “Cheating rubs the administration the wrong way.” “Forget it.” Gage sat up, brushing some of his long, dark bangs out of his eyes. “I'll drop out of the class and try taking it again next semester.” “That'll set you back half a year,” Nathan argued. “Better that than risk you getting fucked up too.” Gage leaned forward on his elbows, dark brows scrunched over honey brown eyes. Nathan could've jumped him right there. Pushed Gage back onto the bed, kissed that sweet mouth, and bounced up and down on his cock until the sun came in through the dorm-room window. Nathan cleared his throat from the edge of lust and affection that threatened to spill out. “You've heard that saying, right? 'Friends help you move; real friends help you move bodies.'” Nathan stood up, confident enough in the control over his own body to keep another stiffie from tenting the front of his sweatpants. “What are you planning?” Gage's eyes went wide. Nathan touched his shoulder. “We're going to sneak into that instructor's office and find the answer sheet for the midterm.”

***** They moved through the dark, empty hall, straining to catch any sound that campus security was around or that a professor had stayed to work late in his or her office. The silence encouraged them to keep moving, and Nathan led the way toward the Math and Sciences wing. Gage caught the back of his shirt. “This is it.” He pointed to the door at his left. “Now what?” “Give me your ID,” Nathan whispered, hand outstretched. Obediently, Gage fished his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew the plastic card. Nathan noticed a slim condom package also wedged in the same slot. He must've been staring with a strange expression on

72

Anne Cain

his face, because when he looked up, Gage's cheeks were red. The kind of bright, burning crimson that screamed mortified embarrassment. Gage squared his jaw and snapped the wallet shut, stuffing it back in his pants with a brusque gesture. A spike of fear shot through Nathan. Maybe Gage had finally clued in to his true feelings. “What?” Nathan snapped, sounding more defensive than he'd intended. “If you don't want people to see you're carrying rubbers, hide them better. Not that anyone gives a shit if you do or don't.” Gage rolled his eyes. “It's not that.” Too much frustration built up over time, coupled with the adrenaline over their impending break-in, pushed Nathan over the edge. “You have a problem with me being gay?” he fumed. “Just because I know you have condoms doesn't mean I'm going to want to fuck you.” “Where the hell did that come from?” Gage's face screwed up. “That has nothing to do with anything.” “Whatever,” Nathan grumbled, lying through his front teeth. “I still wouldn't do you, even if this does turn out to be the last night we spend on campus.” He wedged the card into the narrow slit between the door and the jamb. He slid the plastic around, not knowing what the hell he was doing, but having seen enough movies to hope this dumbass trick would work. More than anything, he started to regret being out here with Gage and just wanted the event to be over. Nathan wasn't scared of getting caught, so much as he was more frightened with each second that he'd do something crazy like devour Gage's lips in a passionate, open-mouth-and-all-tongue kiss that had to be illegal in most states, destroying what was left of their friendship in the process. “Fuck!” He dropped the ID on the floor, giving up when the lock refused to pop.

Beautiful Boys

73

Gage had remained silent following his last outburst, and he reached out to try the handle. The door swung in. “It was already unlocked,” he said quietly, retrieving his ID. “Oh.” Nathan felt his cheeks flush, and he pushed inside first. This was his damn idea, so he might as well see it through to the end. “Where does the guy file the shit for your class?” he asked, looking around the shadowy room. Orange light from the outdoor sodium lamps filtered in through the blinds at the window, falling over a cluttered desk and a beat-up love seat the professor must have pulled from the student lounge when the area was renovated last spring. Piles of ungraded tests and papers littered the floor. Nathan picked a stack at random and flipped through the stapled sheets. “Hey, these are biology exams…” He frowned. He tossed the stack on to the desk. “We're in the wrong office.” “I know,” Gage said quietly, shutting the door. “I changed my mind about going through with it.” “But—” Nathan started. Gage's serious expression shut him up. “I want you to answer my question.” Gage dropped his gaze to the floor. “Out in the hall, why did you say those things?” Nathan shuffled in place. “It was nothing. Just forget it.” He made for the door, but Gage grabbed his shoulders. The last thing he'd ever expected in a million years was for Gage to pull him into a kiss, but there he was, being drawn into the bigger man's embrace, a hot, searing mouth burning against his. “I've wanted to do this for a long time.” Gage pulled out of the lip-lock, breathing heavily. Those loose-fitting jeans weren't so baggy anymore. A massive erection filled out the front of his pants like a pole in a tent. His hands dropped from Nathan's shoulders to settle over Nathan's ass instead, groping and kneading the muscle underneath the cotton sweatpants.

74

Anne Cain

Nathan groaned, his legs spreading of their own will as Gage's fingers worked along his crack. Cloth rubbed against his anus, the friction sending a spasm of pleasure through Nathan's core. “Shit,” he gasped. He didn't know what was more shocking—the finger rimming his anus through his pants, or the fact that finger belonged to the untouchably hetero Gage. But looking this gift horse in the mouth would be the stupidest mistake of Nathan's life, and he quickly decided to go along with anything and everything Gage wanted. Hopefully, it involved being run through with that iron-hard rod stabbing up between Gage's legs. “You know how many times I've jerked off thinking about you?” Gage breathed into Nathan's ear. Probably not as many times as Nathan had. “Are you drunk?” he asked. Nathan thought it was polite to double-check, not that he had any actual intention of stopping regardless of the answer. Maybe Gage had stopped at Les's party for a couple of drinks after all. Nathan flicked his tongue over Gage's lower lip before licking his way inside that hot, welcoming mouth. Not a single trace of alcohol tinged the meaty, decidedly Gage-flavored taste as his tongue explored the moist depths. Gage kissed him back with lip-numbing intensity. While their tongues clashed together, teasing, feeling, his mouth worked over Nathan's to pull, tug, and suckle on lips dulled through sensory overload. The guy could kiss. Hard. The way a man could do only with another man. Gage ended the kiss with a wet suctioning sound. His hands squeezed Nathan's ass, that one finger still nestled in the crack at the rim of Nathan's opening. His erection ground into Nathan's abdomen. “I need to know if you meant what you said before. That you don't want to fuck me.” “I was full of shit.” Nathan barely recognized the sound of his own husky voice. Living with Gage for more than two disappointingly chaste years had been agony—he couldn't put into words how badly he ached for this guy. He

Beautiful Boys

75

didn't have to bother; the way his cock stiffened and jutted against Gage's hip screamed it loud enough. “Why didn't you tell me anything?” Gage asked. “You're my roommate.” Nathan swallowed. “My straight roommate. I was worried about fooling around and things ending badly, when I like having you as a friend.” “Considering you were willing to risk getting expelled for my sake, I don't think sex would be enough to kill our friendship.” The bright red blush returned to Gage's cheeks, visible even in the dim light. “Besides, who said I was straight?” Nathan finally caught on. Gage's lack of girlfriends, his embarrassment when Nathan saw the condom, the repressed attraction… Gage had both feet in the closet, but Nathan had torn the door off its hinges and only needed to pull the guy out. He grabbed the back of Gage's neck. He trailed kisses down the slope of that handsome, freckle-dotted nose and over the sharp lines of his chin, where the first traces of stubble scratched at his lips. Rocking his hips, he drove the hard jut of his restrained erection against Gage's body, anxious for the moment they'd rip at each other's clothing. “Fuck me already,” he rasped, yanking his shirt off over his head. A groan of pure desire vibrated in Gage's chest. He finally released Nathan's ass to sweep over the span of naked torso. He spread those big, thickknuckled hands over Nathan's abs, feeling the ripples of muscles as he swept up toward Nathan's pecs. God, those hands felt good. Rough and strong, encouraging Nathan to push against them while he rubbed Gage's back. The tension in those hard muscles yielded to his strokes, but when he slipped his fingers under the hem of Gage's T-shirt, Gage arched back, his body tense again.

76

Anne Cain

“It's okay,” Nathan soothed. He moved his hands farther up and around, caressing the hot skin along Gage's abdomen. He swept up, rolling the shirt out of the way as he went. He found Gage's wide brown nipples and teased the nubs with thumb and forefinger. Gage let out a shuddering gasp. His nipples hardened into sharp peaks, beads of sweat dotting the cleft of his chest. Nathan leaned in to lap at those droplets. The masculine taste slammed into his senses, spiking his arousal. He groaned, his cock so hard now, it fucking hurt. He felt a trickle of precum already oozing from the head of his dick, and his piece throbbed in time with his pulse. Setting both of his hands over Gage's, he coaxed his friend down to touch his cock where it strained against his clothes. “It's all yours.” Nathan thrust into the man's palms. Swallowing loud enough for the gulp to be audible, Gage yanked down Nathan's sweatpants. He fondled the ball sac, separated now only by a thin layer of underwear. A little more comfortable now, but still achingly confined in those damn briefs, Nathan felt like he was never going to come. He whimpered, his prick pulling on the stretchy cotton like it might tear through the clothing in its eagerness to rest in Gage's sweaty hands. “Hey.” Gage stopped rubbing. “These are my briefs.” Nathan's breath locked in his throat. Oops. “Heh.” He managed a dry chuckle. There was no way he could confess to raiding Gage's laundry pile several times a semester, let alone admit that he jacked off with the stolen underwear. He'd wrapped this very pair of red briefs around his fist the other night and cranked his shaft like there was no tomorrow. They'd absorbed the spray of cum pretty damn well too. Gage raised an eyebrow at him, but Nathan silenced any further comments by fixing his lips over a firm nipple and sucking fiercely. His tongue flicked over the peak as he worked his mouth, and Gage started moaning with an intensity that would've put a seasoned porn star to shame. The noise struck a chord deep inside Nathan's gut that spiraled straight to his cock. He shivered

Beautiful Boys

77

and almost spurted on himself. It took a helluva lot of self-control to hold back the rush of jizz. Refusing to waste any more time, Nathan pulled away from Gage's swollen nipple and finished yanking the red briefs down. Nathan's cock bounced up, defying gravity in ways that just weren't possible without lust for another man to provide the lift. Gage didn't fool around anymore either. As soon as Nathan's dick and balls were free, his hands were all over them. He cupped and squeezed and stroked and pulled, all at once. Nathan's knees went weak, and he clutched at Gage's neck to keep from dropping into a writhing, orgasm-wracked heap. Those hands moved to grip his ass, lifting Nathan off the floor. He was half carried, half thrown onto the couch where the smell of dust and stale, old popcorn greeted him. Gage leaned over the couch, one hand clutching the backrest. He jerked away the knotted mess of underwear and sweatpants so they bunched around Nathan's ankles, allowing freer access for both men. And Nathan flaunted it. He lifted his dick and held the fat slab at its base, his other hand cupping his sac. He trailed a finger down his scrotum, tracing the sensitive seam so he squirmed and gasped. When he reached the flexing hole between his ass cheeks, he shoved two fingers in and scissored the ring open. The muscle stretched, and he let out a throaty groan at the friction, but he wanted to be ready. Nathan pulled out, slowly, a spasm running through the muscles in his passage. Gage liked what he was seeing, obviously. The mound at his crotch swelled up, the outline of his penis creating a deep shadow in the strained denim. Nathan propped himself up on one elbow and stroked a hand over Gage's erection. Judging from how hard and responsive the man's cock was, it was a miracle Gage hadn't creamed himself by now. Nathan invited himself to open the top button of Gage's pants.

78

Anne Cain

“Oh God,” Gage moaned as Nathan worked the zipper next. The same shudder of anticipation that seized Gage's body ran through Nathan's. As soon as the metal teeth pulled apart, Nathan reached in, and his fingers worked into the seam of Gage's briefs. Burning-hot skin welcomed him, and when he tried to close his hands around the shaft, his fingers just barely managed to circle the width. Now Nathan was the one moaning. He tugged Gage's massive cock free, the heavy piece dwarfing whatever he'd fantasized about during those latenight handjobs. He'd gotten one thing right, though: Gage was circumcised. He stared, still gripping the piece in his trembling fist, his gaze sweeping the entire length from the flushed tip to the root, where a bed of dense black curls surrounded it. A string of pearly white fluid trickled from the slit, while a vein wrapped around the cock like a thick, throbbing cord. Blood surged through the length, turning it a deep shade of red. Nathan gave that stunning prick a slow, hard stroke. A wad of hot cum shot out and splattered across his cheek. “Oh, fuck,” Gage panted, charmingly awkward in spite of the way he kept on humping Nathan's palm. “I'm sorry.” “As long as you clean it up, I don't mind.” Nathan sat up just enough so his lips could reach Gage's swollen, wet glans. He breathed along the slit before planting a kiss above the wet tip. Gage dipped forward, pushing Nathan back down on to the sofa. He lapped his tongue over the sticky mess streaking Nathan's cheek, drinking in his own spunk and hovering so close, beads of sweat spilled off his nose and onto Nathan's forehead. His hard cock dug into Nathan's abs. Now to bury that rod somewhere else. Nathan reached into Gage's back pocket for the wallet and the condom inside. A moment later, he had the wrapper off and the lubricated rubber out, and he was shoving Gage back to give them room. They fumbled together for a bit, both men forgetting how in the hell to put on a condom in their enthusiasm. They snorted with breathless laughter, using their clumsy groping

Beautiful Boys

79

as an excuse to keep touching and teasing each other. The rubber just barely made it to the root of Gage's cock, but it was enough. Nathan rolled over and onto his knees. He faced the back of the sofa and clutched the worn midnight blue cushions as he arched his back. His ass pointed out to Gage, his hole open and ready, gaping in the still air of the room. Two hands gripped his hips, holding them steady as the rounded knob of Gage's dick pressed on the opening. “Do it!” Nathan begged. But he rammed back into the rod, too hot and eager to wait for Gage to comply. The rock-hard shaft drove into him, sliding on the slick lube that coated the condom. Gage's cock filled him too much and too fast. Nathan's passage rolled against the thick piece of meat as it stretched to make the cock fit. His erection wilted for a second as the blood rushed to his head in that moment of sharp discomfort and fear. He cried out, but the pain was already spiraling into intense pleasure as Gage pegged him right in that sweet spot deep inside the canal. He moaned, his hips bucking to keep up with the feverish pace of Gage's thrusts. Sweat poured off Nathan's forehead, trickled down his naked torso. He twitched and writhed, his body held down by the sheer weight of Gage bearing down on him, his legs tethered by the jumble of clothes at his ankles. His cock kicked up again, the erection bigger and harder this time. “You feel so good,” Gage moaned. He pounded harder, until it felt like a pile driver was grinding its way up Nathan's ass to mash at every single pleasure point in his channel. A burst of erotic pleasure knifed him deep in his groin, and nothing in the world could've stopped him from coming. Jizz sprayed out of him in an uncontrollable gush, splattering the back of the sofa in a burst of cream. “Shit!” Gage sucked in a sharp breath, and a shudder coursed through his body. He let out a choked scream, and the condom ballooned inside Nathan. He kept thrusting, his balls smacking against Nathan's ass, until they both emptied. They climaxed again, the orgasm dry but no less satisfying.

80

Anne Cain

Exhausted, both men collapsed onto the sofa. The old lounge smells had been replaced with the rich, spicy odors of sweat and semen. Nathan loved that smell. He wanted to be drenched in it again, this time back in their room at the dorm with the music from the party vibrating the walls and Gage's naked body sandwiching him against the mattress. “Should we clean this up?” Gage asked, his voice hoarse from the exertion. He fingered the ejaculate drying on the back of the sofa by Nathan's ear. “It's so dirty already, I don't think it matters.” Nathan chuckled. Besides, who could guess how many other students had already fucked each other senseless on the couch during the furniture's tour of duty in the lounge? His laughter died. “But what are you going to do about your calc class?” “I'll take it next semester.” Gage kissed the back of Nathan's neck. “I don't mind sticking around campus another six months as long as I have someone to spend the time with.” “Sweet,” Nathan whispered. He smiled into the sofa. “We'll need more condoms.”

Beautiful Boys

81

Chapter Four Designing Love

“Make sure this gets over to the printers on the northwest side by five.” Howard tossed the flash drive across the desk at Andy's head. “And doublecheck that the fonts are embedded or half the ad is going to turn out pixilated.” “I'm right on it.” Andy caught the lighter-sized gadget in one hand, never moving his fingers off the mouse with the other. He'd barely glanced up from his monitor, where a dozen other project files were open, all with the same ohmy-God-the-deadline-is-in-thirty-minutes level of urgency. From the desk behind Andy, that deep, slow, and sexy Western drawl that had given him nothing but hell over the past couple of weeks interrupted. “Is that the advertisement for Beantown Pizza?” “Yeah.” Howard ran a hand through what was left of the hair on his head, one eyebrow cocked. “Already e-mailed the files over to the print shop.” Andy heard the smile in Luke's voice, and his temper flared. Clenching his jaw, Andy swiveled around in his task chair. Sure enough, Luke wore his trademark infuriatingly charming grin, which showed off the dimples in his cheeks. “That was my project to finish,” Andy fumed. “You were so busy already, I thought I'd help out.” Luke's smile widened. “I ended up changing the color scheme so the restaurant's logo popped more. The original color was too red.” Too red? Asshole. “I liked the red.” Andy gritted his teeth. “A lot. So did Neil, and he's the advertising coordinator.”

Anne Cain

82

“Sorry.” Luke shrugged, but his blue eyes crinkled at the corners to show he was anything but remorseful. “But the ad works better now. And since Neil isn't back from lunch yet, and we're pushing the deadline, it's Howard's call.” He sat back in his chair, leaving the view to his monitor open for Andy and their boss to take a look. “See?” Howard ducked into the room and studied the ad up close for a second or two. He nodded with a pleased expression. “That's great, Luke. Good job.” “It looks horrible.” Andy seethed. “Okay, this has to stop.” Howard straightened. He folded his arms across the front of his shirt and glared at Andy, then Luke. “We've already talked about this before. The two of you have to stop arguing about things and start working together.” Andy threw up his hands in frustration and hoped that maybe, just once, he could find a way to reason with his boss. “The guy changes things behind my back!” “He never wants to admit his ideas suck.” Luke nodded in Andy's direction. “Maybe Howard only needs one graphic designer working here,” Andy shot back. “And it's not you,” Luke countered. “Look.” Howard rubbed his temple. “I don't have time to waste breaking up these stupid, school-yard types of arguments. If the two of you can't figure out how to get along, then I'm getting two new artists.” He stalked out of the room, probably heading off to see what the rest of the zine's staff was doing to make sure the latest issue got wrapped up before the deadline. Tense silence followed in the production manager's absence. Andy cracked his knuckles and narrowed his eyes. Luke glowered back at him. “That was my project to finish,” Andy repeated flatly.

Beautiful Boys

83

Luke leaned forward to rest his forearms across his knees and ran a hand through his short, wavy brown hair. “This isn't going well. We need to figure out a way to get along better, so we can get some work done.” He sighed, like maybe the idea of a root canal would've been more appealing. “Working together doesn't mean you can take over my projects.” Andy refused to let that drop, mostly because he could be as stubborn as an ass when he wanted to. “You should be thanking me for what I did.” Luke arched an eyebrow. “Please.” Andy gawked at the fucker. “I saved the ad from looking like crap.” He beamed. “The ad was amazing.” Andy jabbed a finger at him. “It looks like shit now.” Actually, the advertisement did appear more eye-catching with Luke's new background in blue. But it would take some kind of disaster just short of hell freezing over and sending an icicle up Andy's ass before he admitted anything remotely positive about the change. “Howard seemed to like it,” Luke pointed out. The fact he was right only made Andy's temper flare worse. “He doesn't have taste,” Andy retorted, flustered. Luke's hard expression cracked. “Oh man.” He chuckled. “You're something else, all right. We need to go out sometime.” “Don't get your hopes, or anything else, up.” Andy snorted. “Here in Austin, there are thousands of gay men, plenty of them sexier than you.” He turned away from that ranch-hand-reject-turned-college-graduate and glared at the monitor, though he was too pissed off to see anything on the screen. Andy would have to run out of every possible option before even considering Luke as a partner. “You boys getting along okay?” Now it was Neil ducking his head into the office. He looked flushed and happy, his hair a rumpled mess. “Howard's warning me that you two can't play nicely in the sandbox.”

Anne Cain

84

“It's your own fault,” Andy bitched. Yes, he knew he was bitching, and he didn't care. The Beantown ad was the last straw. “Where've you been? The ad for the pizza place got trashed by him.” He jerked his thumb in Luke's direction. “Hmm.” Neil focused on something over Andy's shoulder. “I think it looks pretty good.” Andy whipped around to find Luke beaming proudly, the revised ad displayed on his monitor. “Oh, for God's sake…” Andy fumed. He turned as sarcastic a look as he could muster in Neil's direction. “You're just saying that because you're in a good mood.” “Too good to worry about whatever kindergarten drama is going on between you two.” Neil chuckled. “And that's your fault for setting me up with Jinx.” “Hey, it was Nathan's crazy plan to have him show up at your birthday party,” Andy swiftly corrected. “Don't punish me—I'm the senior design intern!” “Senior by, like, an hour,” Neil replied cheerfully. “Andy, chill out.” “Chill out?” Andy gawked at the man. “A week ago you were going crazy over your horoscopes. Now it's 'chill out'?” Neil shrugged, grinning, and pointed a finger at Andy. “I give up.” Andy rubbed his throbbing forehead. “Listen,” Neil said. “I'm heading down to my parents' ranch this weekend with Jinx. He invited your friend Nathan to come along with his new boyfriend, and my brother will be there with his new guy too.” “A big couples' weekend at your folks' house?” Andy raised a brow. “I'm inviting you too,” Neil said. “Bring someone special. How about you, Luke?” “Oh, yeah right,” Andy jumped in before Luke had a chance to flap his charming gums. “I'd rather eat the proof for the Beantown ad.”

Beautiful Boys

85

***** Many overtime hours later, Andy sat nursing his bruised ego and a cold beer at the bar near his apartment. He couldn't stop thinking about Luke, as much as he wished he could. They'd both shown up at Howard's office on the same day two months ago to start as the magazine's new graphic designers, and Andy could remember feeling a significant amount of attraction to the sexy UT grad. At least until they actually started working on an assignment together. Andy discovered that he really liked to have things done his way, and apparently so did Luke. He'd lost count of the number of times they'd butted heads over creative differences that neither guy ever wanted to compromise on. Frustrated in more ways than one, Andy hoped a couple of drinks and maybe a quick, friendly fuck would help him unwind. But by ten thirty, he started to get the clue that no one in the bar was going to pick him up. Not that he should've expected much, since Tuesdays weren't typically busy nights for bars. Maybe if he'd driven all the way downtown instead of walking the couple of blocks from his place to here, things would've been more exciting. As it was, he could only coddle his beer for so much longer before he had turn in for work tomorrow. He took a long swallow from the sweating bottle, casually surveying the night's small turnout. The six other guys at the bar all seemed to be friends hanging out, not really paying attention to the singles scene. A couple sitting in the booth near the door never stopped kissing each other long enough to notice anyone else in the world existed. The door swung open, and Andy glanced over, hopeful. “Oh great,” he groaned around the mouth of his bottle. Luke filled the doorway, his broad shoulders almost brushing against both sides of the frame. His black T-shirt clung to every dip and swell of hard muscle across his chest and abdomen, blue jeans slung low on narrow hips. If Andy had been less pissed over what had happened at work—or if he'd been more drunk—he might've acknowledged the man looked good. Damn good. But

86

Anne Cain

Andy wasn't about to start admitting anything positive about his workplace rival, and he sure as hell wouldn't breathe a word about Luke having a nice piece of ass. Fuck no. He tried to look away in time, but Luke caught his gaze and strode over. “Hey.” “Hey, yourself.” Andy made a face. “What are you doing here?” “I came in for a drink, same as you.” “There are hundreds of bars in this city.” Andy set his beer on the countertop. “You couldn't pick a different one?” Luke took a seat beside Andy. “This one is only a couple of blocks from my apartment.” “Unbelievable.” Andy had a very bad feeling about this whole conversation. “Bella Vista Apartments?” “That's right—” Luke froze in midsentence. “Let me guess. You live there too.” “Third floor,” Andy grumbled. Luke's charming smile hardened into a scowl, and he swore. “Just fucking great.” More offended than he thought he could've been, Andy rapped his fingers on the counter. “What's that supposed to mean?” “I get enough of your shit at work.” Luke glared at him. “Now we're going to be running into each other at the apartment building all the damn time too.” “Wait a minute. You're the one who said we should go out on a date.” Andy's temper soared. “And I don't stir up shit at work, you do.” Luke turned on the stool to square off with Andy. “I used to think you were cute, with your surfer-boy hair and all those freckles,” he said, stabbing a finger in the air between them. Andy had just enough time to blink, puzzled. Since when were freckles all that adorable? “Talented also,” Luke went on.

Beautiful Boys

87

Wait—he thought Andy was talented? “But you're arrogant, self-absorbed, and you can't admit that maybe someone else in that office besides you knows a thing or two about what they're doing,” Luke continued without catching his breath. “I'd rather screw myself than have anything to do with you outside of work.” He snatched Andy's unfinished beer from the counter and downed the drink in one gulp. “That. Was. Mine.” Andy leaned in, one hand gripping the countertop before he fell, hard. And he didn't mean on the floor. “Fucking. Sue. Me.” Luke also dipped toward him, heat flashing behind those crystal blue eyes. Both men stared off, neither one blinking. Andy felt the muscles all along his traps and shoulders tense, like he was going to start pounding into the guy at any second. Luke actually trembled, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. Energy crackled in the air between them, until that invisible, taut thread of stress just snapped. They both crashed into each other at the exact same moment, aiming for the exact same spot, and doing the exact same thing that neither of them had to have expected. Before Andy could wrap his head around what was happening, he had Luke in his arms and the two men were locked in a kiss. Everything about Luke took Andy by surprise—the earthy, masculine scent rolling off his body, the suppleness of those lips, the heat of that beautiful skin. Andy pressed into Luke, working him open, drinking him in. During the heated rush, their front teeth clinked together, and that jarred some sense into Andy. What were they doing? He tried to pull away. But Luke's hand was at the back of his neck, holding him fast. Fingers threaded through Andy's messy mop of blond hair, reaching and pulling and urging. While his mind spun out of control, Andy's body knew just how to respond. He gripped the sides of Luke's neck and worked his lips off to make that kiss last as humanly long as possible. His tongue pressed into the warm, moist space of Luke's mouth until he found

Anne Cain

88

Luke's tongue. He lapped and nudged and sucked, gradually realizing that he was doing a seriously good job of fucking Luke orally with only his tongue. Andy jerked backward as the shock of the moment wore off and he got ahold of himself. His cheeks burned; his pulse pounded. Luke had a blush creeping up all the way from the base of his collar to his ears and forehead. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in the thick column of his throat, his hands hovering in the air at the sides of Andy's head. He looked as stunned as Andy felt. “What the hell was that?” “Beats the shit out of me,” Andy replied, dazed. Even more surprising than that full-blown lip-lock, he found he could finally admit something about Luke out loud. “But fuck, you kiss good.” “You weren't so bad either,” Luke whispered. “So…” Andy cleared his throat. “What else can you do well besides designing ads and kissing?” Luke's stunned expression yielded to the smile tugging at the corner of those beautiful lips. “You're going to have to find out.”

***** They barely made it up the last flight of stairs to Andy's apartment with their clothes on. Luke lost his belt somewhere after the first landing, and Andy stripped out of his shirt as soon as they reached his floor. While Andy fumbled with his keys and the door lock, Luke slipped both arms around Andy's waist from behind and started working on his fly. “God, you're hard,” Luke breathed in his ear. A big hand rubbed down the front of Andy's briefs, groping the entire length to work his piece into stiffening more. “Fuck,” Andy moaned. He couldn't keep his hands from shaking long enough to turn the keys correctly. “Hold it a sec.” “Sure.” Luke's lips curved up into a smile against Andy's cheek. His strong hand squeezed the base of Andy's cock through his underwear.

Beautiful Boys

89

“That's not what I meant,” Andy panted. He squirmed, his dick throbbing in Luke's steel grip. “I know.” Luke sucked on the side of his neck hard enough that Andy knew there'd be a mark in the morning. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” Andy groaned and pushed his ass back into Luke's crotch. A hard, curved knob dug into the base of his spine. “The feeling's mutual.” Luke dipped both hands under the waistband of Andy's briefs, and those hot fingers touched naked, sensitive skin. Luke traced every pulsing vein along Andy's rigid cock, his strokes sending wave after wave of pleasure arcing through Andy's body. He leaked precum all over those skilled fingers, the fluid oozing from the head every time Luke paused at the tip of his dick to give a little squeeze. “Oh shit,” Andy moaned. If this kept up much longer, he was going to shoot off right in his underwear with Luke's hard-on jabbing him in the back. Andy threw his body against the door, and the lock finally gave into his clumsy prodding. They tumbled inside the apartment and landed in a heap on the tiled entryway. Andy managed to turn on his back to kick the door shut, even with Luke pressing down on him. But when he tried to crawl out from under the larger man, Luke gripped his wrists and pinned him to the floor, straddling him. “You're not going anywhere until I know one thing.” That slow, easy smile curved Luke's lips. “You liked the change I made to the ad, didn't you?” Andy laughed. “Get the hell out of here.” He strained against Luke's hold, though maybe not as hard as his cock was straining against the seam of his underwear. “I'm serious.” Luke leaned over to nibble on the side of Andy's throat. “Admit it.” “No way.” Andy felt a rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

Anne Cain

90

Releasing Andy, Luke sat back on his heels. The curve of his rear pressed into Andy's erection. As soon as he felt how ridiculously hard Andy's cock was, his smile stretched into a wide, wicked grin. He pushed his hips back, rocking into Andy's crotch and putting pressure on the already too-swollen-for-words cock. “Jesus!” Andy clenched his jaw. He grabbed Luke's hips with the intention of keeping the man from digging into his dick but ended up coaxing Luke into grinding down even harder. He moaned again, his cock throbbing and leaking enough precum to leave him feeling soaked. Sweat trickled into his eyes, and he arched up, wiping his forehead on Luke's shirt. He sucked up the heat and strong, manly scent that poured from Luke, and shivered with anticipation. “So?” Luke pushed Andy back down to the tile. “So what?” Andy reached around Luke and slipped a hand into his own underwear. Hissing under his breath the second his fingers touched his prick, he wrenched the pole-hard shaft out through the opening in his briefs. His piece was slick and covered in precum down to its bed of pubes. He fingered his slit, and a squirt of jizz splattered his thumb. “You have to let me stick this peg somewhere tight and hot right now,” he choked out. Ass, mouth, hand— whatever. As long he got Luke to take in his cock somewhere, he'd be in fucking heaven. “Hmm.” Luke grunted softly and licked his lips. Moving slowly enough to give Andy a good show, he finished stripping. He tugged his T-shirt off and tossed it somewhere into the dark living room, finally exposing a gorgeous span of skin on well-built muscle. The street light filtering in through the window behind the sofa traced the hard lines of Luke's pecs and his chiseled midsection, shadows deepening all those beautiful cuts where muscle swelled on muscle. His navel formed a nickel-sized dome that popped out and looked extremely suckable, like the head of an uncut penis that tried to bait a lover into swallowing the entire piece of meat whole. Two sharp indentations at his pelvis pointed down to the V of his groin, where a mound of cock and balls

Beautiful Boys

91

swelled under those tight jeans. Working thumb and finger on the zipper, Luke opened the fly and lifted up onto his knees to tug his pants and briefs midway down his thighs. Fuck, the man was built like a god. Some kind of muscular sex deity with a plump, long cock that had a round, swollen head oozing a pearly gob of cum right on the tip. Luke's member was too heavy to arch up the way Andy's prick could almost touch his own navel, and it swung out to hang in the air at a ninety-degree angle from Luke's groin. At the base, Andy couldn't imagine getting one hand to wrap around that thick root. Even Luke's closely trimmed pubes seemed reluctant close all the way around, creating a palm-sized thatch of short, wiry hairs just above his cock. In any case, Andy had every intention of giving his mouth a chance to suck on as many inches of that gorgeous monster as it could take. He sat up on his elbows and opened his lips wide. As he dived in for that glistening tip, Luke's hand blocked the way. “What the hell—” Andy started to protest, and Luke slipped two fingers into his mouth, cutting him off. Out of pure reflex, Andy started sucking and slobbering those two digits until the spit ran down his chin. “Come clean with me about the advertisement, or forget about sex.” Luke grinned mischievously. He literally had Andy by the balls, one hand reaching around to fondle Andy's sac with just the right amount of roughness to feel teeth-clenching, muscle-tensing delicious. “You know I was going to say it eventually,” Andy admitted between mouthfuls of Luke's fingers. “Same way you knew I was going to let you fuck me anyway,” Luke replied throatily. He let go of Andy's balls and dipped down to kiss him on the mouth. They sucked on each other's lips, their tongues flicking together, exploring, tasting, and demanding. This time, Luke broke the kiss first. He slid down Andy's body, dragging his tongue in a line straight down Andy's smaller but equally toned chest. He

92

Anne Cain

kissed the blunt head of Andy's cock, his lips drawing a pleasant suction on the rounded tip that made Andy suck in his breath. The guy really knew how to use his mouth, and he swathed Andy's length in kisses and nips and tugs. Andy squirmed and wriggled under those full lips, letting out a groan of delight as Luke bathed the head with his warm tongue. “Suck me off,” Andy practically begged. He nudged his cock deeper into Luke's mouth, sinking into that hot, wet opening until it felt like his entire body was covered in the man's spit, and he absolutely loved it. “I'd rather you fuck me deep in the ass with this pretty cock instead.” Luke was breathing just as heavily. He moved off Andy and faced away, kneeling on the floor. God, the back of his body was just as beautiful as the front. Beads of sweat trickled down those wide lats to pool in the hollow just above his ass, the muscles on those lean thighs flexed and looked good enough to lick. With his pants gathered around his knees, he bent over and spread his thighs as far as they could go. He used one hand to part his ass cheeks, not that it was necessary. The path to the hole on that toned butt was totally exposed, the pink opening puckered and inviting. He touched the flushed ring with the same two fingers Andy had sucked on, and pushed in. Damn—his hole swallowed them right up to the knuckles. Luke poked and pushed, stretching and working his anus until it yawned wide open. He started grunting and shaking all over; then he pulled out his fingers with a moan and waited, holding his breath. “Um…I don't have a condom.” Andy gripped the base of his cock, so desperate to enjoy that cute bottom waiting for him but unable to. He wanted to cry. “Huh?” Luke shot him a dirty look over his shoulder.

Beautiful Boys

93

“I don't usually jump guys spontaneously like this!” Andy resisted the urge to smack Luke's ass, only because he worried that would get them both more aroused. “Don't you have one on you?” “What do you think?” Luke looked as desperate and flustered as Andy felt. “I don't usually plan to end up on someone's living room floor like this either.” “Okay.” Andy swallowed. “Bedroom.” Apparently, Luke's apartment was laid out the same way as Andy's, so he knew his way around in the dark. They clumsily climbed to their feet and raced across the floor, scrambling toward the small room in the back; Luke tumbled into the bed, and Andy landed behind him, still pretty much in the right position to fuck. “Find the rubber,” Luke pleaded. “Okay, okay.” Andy rifled through his nightstand drawers while Luke groaned and started stroking himself. The mattress bounced underneath them, distracting Andy. “Hurry,” Luke whimpered. Andy started dumping all sorts of crap out of the drawer in desperation— paperbacks, cough drops, an asthma inhaler… Everything but the kitchen sink and condoms. Fuck! The situation became more urgent, especially when his cock started to twinge and ache with a powerful desire to be stroked also. For a horrifying moment, he feared he was out of condoms, but then he finally stumbled on a batch of crinkly packets in the back of the bottom drawer. “Got them!” Andy ripped into a wrapper. He felt like he'd just found gold or discovered the Americas for all his excitement. Sheathed in slick rubber, Andy gripped the base of his cock and aimed for Luke's open hole. He pushed in, and Luke clamped down around him, both men shuddering from the mixture of friction and heat. Andy thrust harder, inching his way into that tight channel that felt so damn good. He pegged Luke in just the right spot, and the man bucked underneath him. “Ah.” Luke threw his head back and groaned. “Fuck, that feels great.”

94

Anne Cain

“No kidding,” Andy gasped. They both lurched together, alternately panting and moaning while Andy buried himself balls deep. He kept pitching his hips forward in a pounding rhythm that Luke accepted with nothing but cries of pleasure, the mattress rocking underneath them. Andy slipped farther into the flexing passage, enjoying that wonderful mix of heat and pressure. Luke squeezed him, urging Andy to keep going with throaty moans of encouragement. A shiver of pleasure coursed through Andy, and he couldn't hold on any longer. He let go, his orgasm taking over in pure, blissful release. Out of breath, covered in sweat, and spent, Andy pulled out. He dropped to the bed and leaned back against the pillows while he gulped down some air. Luke stayed on hands and knees but glanced over his shoulder with a kind of dazed but happy expression. “Now what?” he asked. He might've been asking that question in the sense of now what do we do at work? Now what, are we still rivals? Friends? Lovers? Andy gave the best answer he could for now. He spread his legs wide apart and grinned. “It's your turn.”

***** At the end of the week, Howard ducked his head into the design office. “I don't know what you two guys did to sort things out, but I'm glad. I haven't heard either of you bitch or moan to me about the other in days.” “We, uh, discuss our projects now.” Andy coughed into his fist. Of course, any conversation usually followed a marathon of sex over every piece of furniture in his or Luke's apartment. Nothing settled a disagreement over an issue at work faster than working off the tension with a sweet, hard fuck. “Oh.” Howard didn't look totally convinced, but if he'd wanted to call Andy on it, he must have decided that having the two designers get along was the only thing that really mattered. He backed out of the room, leaving them alone. It wouldn't take long before the rest of the zine's staff figured out what was

Beautiful Boys

95

going on, but for now Andy enjoyed keeping the romance just between him and his lover. Luke stepped up behind Andy, kissing tenderly him on the neck. He rested his chin on Andy's shoulder. “What are you working on?” “Finishing the layout on page twelve; then we're out of here to pack up for the weekend at Neil's parents' ranch.” “Hmm.” Something about Luke's grunt made Andy's eyebrows go up. “What?” he asked carefully. “Those fonts look terrible.” “I see.” Andy smacked his lips together. “What if I disagree?” “Then we need to go find an empty conference room in the building to discuss it.” Luke nuzzled the side of Andy's neck. “Right now.” “You read my mind.”

96

Anne Cain

Epilogue Beautiful Boys

Sunset in the Hill Country seemed to last forever. At eight o'clock, the horizon line still burned a reddish gold, and the june bugs hadn't quite mustered the energy to start buzzing around yet. This late in the summer, everyone was feeling lazy. Especially Dean and Neil. The two brothers were stretched out on the tall grass a hundred yards away from their mom and dad's back porch, staring up at the spatter of clouds streaking toward the disappearing sunlight, stars beginning to twinkle in their wake. “This is nice,” Neil murmured. For once he wasn't looking at the stars for any revelations about his destiny or hints of impending karmic calamities. He lifted his beer bottle to his forehead and pressed the cool, sweating glass against his skin. “Hot. But nice.” “Uh-huh.” Dean sounded drowsy and maybe a little buzzed. He'd had at least six beers throughout the evening, somehow managing to knock them back between all the kisses he'd sneaked from his lover. Neil didn't blame him—Nico was attractive and not afraid to flirt like crazy with Dean. And he was kind too. Right now, he was in the kitchen helping their mother clean everything up. Jinx had tried to lend a hand too. But after the second broken plate, Mom had gently yet firmly banished him to the pool table in the game room with the other guys. “Are you and Nico staying here?” Neil asked.

Beautiful Boys

97

“You mean in here in Texas?” Dean smiled up at the sky. “Hell yeah. He loves cowboys and America. After years of working in small fishing villages and spending a lot of time alone on empty islands, he's ready to move on.” “Dean, he loves you. No one just picks up and leaves their old life behind without a really strong reason to.” “I know.” Dean turned a big, dippy grin at Neil. “Is it crazy that I love him too?” “Absolutely not.” Neil laughed. “Hey, do you guys want another beer?” Nathan yelled out to them from the porch. His boyfriend stood beside him, holding up the cooler with suds. “Before Andy, Luke, and your dad finish putting them away?” “No, thanks,” Dean yelled back. “As long as Mom doesn't mind, they can knock themselves out.” “Think they're really okay with all this?” Neil asked after the peace and quiet of the countryside settled over them again. “I mean our parents. They've got eight somewhat-crazy guys crashing in their house. ” “There's plenty of room.” “Let me rephrase that. Do you think they're really okay with eight somewhat-crazy gay guys crashing their house?” Dean laughed. “Neil, Mom and Dad love every one of them.” “Especially Nico, right? He's got that sexy accent.” “Oh yeah,” Dean agreed. A few minutes later, when the beetles finally got around to being a nuisance, the brothers dragged themselves into the house. Nico was waiting for Dean, and they went off to their room with a few good nights to everyone else. Before Neil went to join Jinx on the couch, he caught his mom in the kitchen and wrapped her in a big hug. “Thanks for everything, Mom,” he said.

98

Anne Cain

“Oh, honey.” She smiled brightly. “It's just wonderful to see you, your brother, and all these sweet boys so happy.” Neil could only hug her again.

Other Loose Id® Titles by Anne Cain Parallel Process Co-written with Barbara Sheridan The CHILD'S PREY Series Co-written with Barbara Sheridan Orange Moon Winter Song Under A Silver Moon Secret Moon The PAWPRINTS Series Pawprints Second Nature Giving and Taking

Anne Cain As a cover artist, illustrator and writer, Anne works for several publishing companies. Whenever she's not chained to the PC or doodling away in a sketch book, Anne spends too much time reading, watching anime or playing on the Wii. Check out Anne's DeviantArt Portfolio at http://annecain.deviantart.com/