The Easy Way

by May Archer

  But Cort wasn’t satisfied with that, of course. He gripped Cam firmly around the base of his cock. “Look at me. Watch me on my knees for you,” he commanded, and Cam’s head swiveled down automatically, obeying the command without ever consulting his brain.

  His eyes locked with Cort’s fiery green ones and Cort licked his lips before taking Cam’s cock in his mouth, swallowing him down in one swift movement. Cam’s howl rang off the walls.

  Cort moved his mouth away and glared up at Cam, the fingers of one hand clamping hard onto Cam’s thigh. “Quiet.”

  “I can’t… I can’t help it,” Cam panted. “Cort—”

  But Cort was implacable. “One more noise, and this is over.” He sounded honestly regretful as he leaned forward and trailed his nose up Cam’s cock. It was only the lightest of touches, the barest tease - enough to make Cam insane. “I don’t want that, baby. And I know you don’t. You want to make me happy, right?”

  Rational thought was so far beyond Cam’s power in that moment, he might have agreed to anything to get Cort’s mouth back around his dick, but the truth was, he did want to make Cort happy, as messed up and crazy as it was to feel that way about a guy he’d just met. He had no defenses left.

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  Cort’s answering grin was as bright as a flame. “God, I have never, ever wanted anyone like this,” he confessed. “I’m going to take such good care of you, Cam. I’ve got you, baby.”

  And damn if that thought didn’t worm its way into Cam’s chest and attach itself dangerously close to his heart.

  But Cam didn’t have time to even think about it, because Cort’s mouth was back, sucking him down deep. One large hand wrapped around the base of Cam’s dick to provide the perfect counterpoint to his mouth, while the other reached further back, to gently play with Cam’s balls.

  The sight of such a powerful man down on his knees, all that strong will and leashed power focused on Cam’s pleasure, those burning green eyes staring up at him, was the hottest thing Cam had ever seen. This was his every fantasy come true, but better, more, because he’d never known to wish for this. He wasn’t just powerful, or cherished, but necessary. Like he, Cam Seaver, was integral to Cort’s survival somehow.

  The very idea made him want to moan, to cry out in pleasure, but the weight of Cort’s stare kept his teeth clamped and his throat closed. You want to make me happy, right? He really, really did.

  Cam was only dimly aware of Cort pulling down his own underwear one-handed and jacking himself frantically. Tongues of flame were dancing up and down Cam’s spine. He wanted to grab Cort’s hair, wrap those long golden strands around his hands, but he forced himself to sink further against the wall and take it, over and over and over, accepting everything the way Cort wanted to give it to him.

  He was shocked he’d held out so long against this onslaught.

  But then Cort pulled away. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice like gravel while his hands still jerked them both. “Say you want me to own you.”

  “C-Cort,” Cam whispered, his hips were bucking and he couldn’t control himself. He was close. So, so close.

  “Yes, baby. I’m right here. Say it. Say please.”

  What? What the hell was he… Oh, right.

  The very idea made Cam’s stomach flip. But they were only words, right? This was a game? He wouldn’t make this out to be more than it was, attach importance to something that wasn’t. It would change nothing. He could say it, and…

  “I want it all,” he whispered. “I want you to own me. P-please.”

  “Fuck, yes,” Cort growled, then he swallowed Cam down to the root again.

  A small cry escaped from Cam’s throat then - a cry of absolute surrender. Surrender to this man and the incredible pleasure which was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.

  “Oh fuck, yes. Yes. Cort!” he cried. He came in pulsing waves, and Cort drank it all down. Then Cort jacked himself off and spilled on the floor with a hoarse cry while Cam could only watch with wide, unfocused eyes.

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  Cort pulled up his boxers and swiped at the mess on the floor with a towel. Then flopping onto his ass, he pulled Cam down to straddle his lap. Cam buried his head in Cort’s neck, and the two of them remained sitting for a minute, or an hour, who the hell knew, while their breathing calmed and their pulses steadied.

  Two thoughts occurred to Cam, one immediately after the other. First, it was really freaking cold in here. And second, he was naked in a public stairway, and literally anyone could come along and find them like this.

  He sucked in a breath and pushed himself up and off Cort’s lap.

  “So, fun time is over, hmm?” Cort asked. He shifted to lean his back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, his legs still splayed out in front of him and still naked apart from the plain black boxers molded to his thighs. Cam looked away and began scrambling for his clothes.

  “I… it’s just, anyone could come and see. I don’t want to have to explain what we’re doing here,” Cam said. And wasn’t that the damn truth? The shit he’d just said to Cort, for God’s sake! Was there even an explanation, beyond the whiskey they’d drunk and the complete lack of judgment Drew was always accusing him of?

  So, why the hell did he want to do it again?

  Cort nodded, but made no move to get dressed, while Cam hopped around, pulling his suit pants back into place and throwing on his shirt. “I need… I mean, I should probably get home. It’s late?”

  Could he be any lamer? He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks.

  Cort snorted and heaved himself to his feet with a sigh, stepping into his pants and grabbing his remaining clothes into a bundle. “You can use the bathroom in my room if you’d like,” he offered, but his voice was closed off, cooler than it had been all night. A perfunctory offer. He knew Cam would say no.

  Cam closed his eyes and sighed, raking a hand through his messy, damp hair. Just because he was freaking out, that was no reason to treat Cort like a leper. He’d never found anyone as easy to talk to as Cort. He wanted to get to know him.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to,” Cam said. He opened his eyes in time to see shock, surprise, and a trace of uncertainty flit across Cort’s face. “Unless, maybe it’s not a good idea?”

  Cort smiled, that lopsided smile that did crazy things to Cam’s inside. “Define good?”

  Cam laughed, and when Cort held out a hand to him a moment later, he didn’t hesitate.

  “Oh. My. God. Tell me that’s not the sun already,” Cam said, grabbing the spare pillow from the unused side of the bed and burrowing his face into it.

  Cort, who had been watching the sunrise for at least an hour, stroked his hand up from Cam’s hip to his rib cage. He laughed softly, but he could sympathize with Cam’s feelings because he wasn’t ready for the sun to rise either.

  He’d hardly slept after they’d made it downstairs the night before, not even bothering to shower or change before stripping off their clothes again and climbing into bed, spooning into one another. The combination of stellar orgasms and a million shots of Jameson had relaxed them both to the point where they hadn’t needed to talk or overthink things further, but while Cam had fallen asleep quickly and deeply, Cort had lain awake for most of the night.

  They’d shared a pillow.

  And that wasn’t the most intimate thing they’d shared.

  The whole night had been like something from a dream, a slice of a parallel universe that had been cut out and inserted into this one. It had been phenomenal – everything he’d ever wanted yet never dreamed he’d be able to find. It was also the cruelest trick he’d ever played on himself, because he still needed to find his brother, Damon, the man Cam thought had caused his parents’ deaths. There was no way Cam would help him. And Cam would never look at him the same way after he learned the truth.

  “If I’m going to contemplate this day,” Cam mumbled into the pillow. “I need s
o much caffeine. Like, ungodly amounts.”

  “Ungodly, huh?” Cort leaned more fully into Cam, running his nose along the column of Cam’s neck, loving the way the man shivered.

  “I suppose there are other ways to wake up,” Cam allowed, pushing his ass back into Cort’s groin. Cort’s breath caught and he moaned.

  “Only one tiny problem with that,” he said, biting Cam’s shoulder. “No lube.”

  It was Cam’s turn to moan, but he shoved the pillow away from his face and turned to grin at Cort. “Well, fortunately for you, I’m endlessly creative, and I’m almost certain I can think of a way to make do.”

  Cort laughed out loud, stroking his finger down Cam’s cheek. “I believe you can, baby.”

  His laughter died the second Cam reached for him, stroking his palm along the ridge of Cort’s very interested dick. “Fuck,” he groaned.

  Cam laughed. “I’m feeling like this would be better in the shower.”

  “I’m feeling like I can’t imagine how this could be better,” Cort said, flopping onto his back and letting Cam balance above him. He wrapped his arm around Cam’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, but Cam tried to twist away.

  “Gross! Cort, my breath is…”

  But Cort didn’t give a shit about morning breath. He lifted his head and met Cam’s lips, parting them with his tongue, desperate for whatever pieces of Cam he could keep. He couldn’t believe how quickly he’d fallen for the guy. Twenty-four hours ago, he’d thought Cam was his enemy. Twenty-four hours from now, he was positive they’d be enemies for real, and there would be nothing he could do to change it. Damon had to come first. But perhaps he could have just a few more minutes.

  Cort rolled, pushing Cam onto his back, loving the way Cam’s legs automatically parted, making room for him. He braced himself, palms to the mattress, and stared down into Cam’s eyes.

  “Cam, I…”

  From the heap of clothing on the floor, a phone began to ring. Cam closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath.

  “Sorry. Shit. That’s my brother’s ringtone. Just gimme a minute, okay?”

  He squirmed out of bed, and Cort flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been about to say, but it was probably for the best that they were interrupted.

  Too much, way too fast.

  Cam grabbed his phone a second after it stopped ringing, and immediately hit redial.

  “He never calls me, ever. So, I kinda need to take it.”

  Cort nodded, watching Cam as he waited and waited for his brother to answer. Apparently, the asshole was messing around or something, because Cam tried calling him three times, yet he didn’t pick up.

  “I mean, he’s probably fine, right?” Cam said, frowning. He came to sit on the edge of the bed cradling the phone in both hands. “Like maybe he called me by accident, or…”

  Cort pushed himself up to sitting. The moment was lost. He was fairly certain he could get it back easily, just by kissing Cam, but he wasn’t sure whether he should, or even if he wanted to.

  “Probably,” he agreed.

  Cam turned and looked at him, then back at his phone, disappointment evident in the slump of his shoulders. “Or maybe I should get going and, uh, check on him,” he said quietly.

  Cort wondered if Cam wanted him to argue. He wouldn’t.

  “I should probably go, too. Do some… stuff,” he said instead. Stuff like hitting the liquor store and wishing his own brother would call.

  Cort stood up and stepped in front of Cam, pulling the man to his feet and kissing him with every ounce of the happiness and need he’d begun to associate with Cam. “This has probably been the best night of my whole life,” he told Cam simply. “Believe it.” He rested his forehead on Cam’s for a second, cursing his dumb luck and Cam’s, then he pulled back. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Seaver,” he said, then he walked into the bathroom.

  When he turned to close the door, he saw Cam standing silently, watching him.

  Chapter Seven

  August could be a bitch of a month in Boston. Tourists thought of Massachusetts as the land of apple cider and snowfall, but Cam had lived there his whole life and knew very well that walking down the street could feel more like swimming when the epic humidity of summer hit, which was why he was kicking his own ass as he ran down the block toward the Union Park brownstone his brother called home.

  The good news was, he’d sweat out the last remaining drops of the alcohol he’d consumed the night before at some point along the four-mile run from his place in Cambridge. The bad news was, without the lingering, memory-dampening effects of a hangover to distract him, he felt like an even bigger idiot about the events of the previous evening.

  He leaned against the short, wrought-iron gate in front of Bas’s building and panted, sucking down the last few drops of water from the bottle he’d carried.

  Not that he blamed his behavior yesterday on alcohol entirely. Yeah, maybe at first the alcohol helped to make him a little less awkward, a little more accepting, but everything after that had been totally him, from the hot-as-hell control thing to the total fizzle-out at the end.

  The gate squeaked as he pushed it open and walked up the path.

  God, but the control thing had worked for him in a major way. He’d known people who really got off on that kink, who worked the dynamic 24/7, yet while he’d always been sorta you-do-you about the whole thing, he’d never truly understood the appeal. But for him last night, it hadn’t been about the nurturing and constant focus his friends loved so much, it had been one hundred percent about the power exchange, about giving control over to someone he trusted. Cam couldn’t remember anything as good, ever.

  It had been glorious, but scary, too, because it was the kind of thing he could quickly become addicted to. Cam got the feeling Cort didn’t do permanent, and Cam wasn’t exactly free of baggage. Case in point, one messed-up, reclusive brother who was apparently hacking the government.

  He removed Bas’s key from the zippered pocket of his shorts and contemplated the heavy wooden door. He could knock and give Bas enough time to pretend to be sleeping or showering, or he could walk straight in and see how Bas was really doing. Weighing the key in his palm, thinking of his conversation with Drew last night and the unreturned calls this morning, he knew he’d choose option B. He needed to see how bad Bas really was. So, he unlocked the door, taking care to make enough noise that Bas could dive for cover if he was naked or whatever.

  He needn’t have worried.

  The air inside the apartment was blessedly cool - almost too cold against Cam’s damp skin, and though the sun was raising rippling heat waves from the pavement outside, inside it was dark as a tomb. Sitting on the red sofa, not bothering to stand or even turn his head - and Jesus, I could be an ax-murderer for God’s sake - was his brother. Cam’s eyes popped open in surprise at the sight.

  Bas hadn’t been right since the crash - losing Amy, losing their parents, it had sent him into a tailspin. During the first couple of months, Cam had thought maybe things would be okay. And then the stupid NTSB report had come out, giving Bas somewhere to focus his attention, and any gains he had made vanished in an instant.

  But he hadn’t been this bad.

  Sebastian was wearing a pair of baggy, gray cutoff sweatpants and a sleeveless white t-shirt which hung from his thinning frame, both of which looked far too broken-in and wrinkled to be clean. His thick brown hair, usually carefully styled back from his face, flopped in greasy, lifeless waves above tired blue eyes. His normally tanned skin seemed four shades too pale, and he stared at the flat-screen television on the wall as if it was somehow speaking messages directly into his brain.

  Cam felt a hum of unease at the base of his skull.

  The screen was paused on a television interview which had taken place shortly after the crash. A witness had come forward who’d been drinking with the pilot responsible for the accident, a redheaded man maybe around Cort’s
age. No doubt he’d been seeking his fifteen minutes of fame, and had done a tell-all interview with some bottom-feeder of a tabloid show. It had been short on details and long on speculation, just enough to fire up imaginations and send the media - and Sebastian - out sniffing for blood.

  “What are you doing?” Cam asked.

  Bas turned his head slowly, reluctantly, fighting the magnetic force of the on-screen images. He looked confused to see Cam there, but then his expression cleared and he became animated.

  “Oh, Cam! Just the person I needed. Look at this man! Who does he look like?”

  Cam blinked. “I dunno? The guy from Grey’s Anatomy?”

  The glance Bas turned on him was wild-eyed and impatient. “No, someone we know. Someone we’ve met before.”

  “Nobody I know,” Cam said, giving the television another passing glance. “Bas, we need to talk. This shit you’ve been pulling has to stop.”

  Bas shook his head. “This is the key, Cam. The key!” He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flipped to a different stored video, this one of Cam’s college graduation. He pushed Play.

  “I know I’ve seen this guy somewhere.”

  “The guy in the interview? Bas, that’s hardly likely. He looks like a lot of people.” Cam was trying to be patient, but failing. Bas needed to listen to him.

  Instead, his brother chose a different video. A TZT-online-news clip about their parents’ funeral. Cam sighed as the reporter recounted the tragedy with barely-concealed excitement. Even a year later, that thread of satisfaction some people enjoyed when talking about the death of an attractive, rich couple and a young, beautiful, wealthy woman drove him bonkers.

  Cam grabbed the remote from Bas and paused the video, then took a seat on the edge of the sofa and forced Bas to look at him.

  “Bas. Talk to me. Have you been hacking government systems in a reckless and obvious way? Is… is this a cry for help? Do you want to get caught?”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes impatiently. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Cam.”