by R. Cayden
Jameson
I can’t believe I’m doing this, Jameson texted to Dee, then added the entire range of freaked out emojis to emphasize the point. But sitting there in the passenger seat while Gray drove them toward a little city near the border with New York, he really couldn’t deny it.
Jameson was actually out of the damn house.
You’re twenty-five years old, Dee texted back. Live a little.
“You’re sure that this is all the costume I need?” Jameson asked as he studied himself in the rearview mirror. He was wearing a cheap pair of sunglasses and an old baseball cap that Gray had offered but otherwise wasn’t dressed that differently than usual.
“Totally. You look plain—that’s the point. Just remember what I told you. Hunch your shoulders, stare at the ground, and keep the collar on your jacket popped,” Gray said, glancing out of the corner of his eye, then swiftly returning his gaze to the road. Jameson had offered up either of his luxury vehicles for the ride, but Gray had insisted on the nondescript gray SUV. “I’m surprised you don’t already have an undercover look. You must have to blend in sometimes?”
Jameson adjusted the cap. “I always travel with a team. An assistant, a rep from my publicist’s office, and a couple of security guards, if not more.”
“Weird,” Gray said.
“Yup,” Jameson agreed. “Most people think it sounds cool, but you’re right. It’s super, super weird.”
They pulled up to the movie theater, and Jameson hesitated with his hand on the car door. There were only a few people in the parking lot, and the sky was cloudy enough that everything looked hazy.
“Just don’t smile,” Gray said. “You got this.”
“Don’t smile?”
Gray dropped his face, letting his mouth hang slack to demonstrate. “Justin Sweet always has a smile on his face.”
Jameson relaxed his face, but once he started thinking about how he wasn’t supposed to smile, he smiled again.
Gray laughed. “Close enough. Let’s go!”
He was out the door so fast, Jameson didn’t have any choice but to hurry after. He kept his eyes down on the pavement and let Gray hold the door for him. There was some cheesy song playing over the stereo, and arcade machines were zinging and beeping against the wall. Jameson took a big whiff of the popcorn smell, savoring it while Gray went forward to buy the tickets.
It felt good. Really good, and just like Jameson remembered.
“I got M&Ms and Sour Patch Kids,” Gray said, approaching with a cardboard tray of snacks. “Wasn’t sure which was your style.”
“Sour Patch Kids,” Jameson said, then plucked the bag from the tray. “Thank you.”
Gray winked, sending a little flutter through Jameson, and they took off, winding down the long hallways until they reached the back of the theater. At the door, they paused, and Jameson pretended to look at his phone while a small group passed, with Gray standing casually in the way to block their view. Once they found their seats in a dark corner, Jameson relaxed a little more.
“This one is supposed to be like a horror movie version of the X-Men,” Gray said under his breath.
Jameson laughed softly. “I just hope no pictures of me screaming show up online.”
“Oh no,” Gray laughed. “You don’t like horror movies?”
“I do. I just… startle.”
He turned to Gray, and when their eyes met, they both laughed.
“Good thing you brought your bodyguard along,” Gray joked.
“Yeah, good thing,” Jameson answered.
The second the previews picked up, Jameson was sucked back into the movie experience. He got the thrills of jumping in his seat the same time everyone else did and the fun of watching some of his favorite characters flying across the screen. His hand bumped close to Gray’s a few times, and once, they turned to each other at the same time with big smiles on their faces, then Jameson laughed and turned away, suddenly shy. Sometimes, back at the mansion, it was impossible for Jameson to remember the magic of a good movie, but there in a theater, with Gray smiling next to him, it all came flooding back.
Once the credits started to roll, Jameson pulled his sunglasses back on. He cast his eyes down to the weird movie theater carpet while he and Gray strolled forward, talking about their favorite parts. The fun of it all had Jameson feeling bouncy, but he still managed to keep his cool, his acting training making it all quite easy.
When Gray excused himself to go into the bathroom, Jameson leaned back against the wall. He wanted painfully for the matinee to be a real date, but knowing that was impossible, he still tried to linger in the fantasy while he could.
And somehow, the fantasy really did seem like it was working. From the corner of his eye, Jameson could see the people passing, but none of their stares were probing in his direction. He could have been just anyone, waiting for his boyfriend to get out of the bathroom before they headed home together, just a regular couple on a regular date.
Gray exited the bathroom, then shot a grin at Jameson. “You ready?”
Jameson lifted his hand, then went to push his hair back, one of the moves an acting coach had ingrained in him as a way to demonstrate casual chill. It was the kind of thing you’d want to see your date doing when you walked up in the movie theater, Jameson thought.
Except, of course, that you weren’t supposed to have a hat on when you did that.
And you definitely weren’t supposed to fumble like a clown and knock your hat to the carpet.
“Crap,” he mumbled, then bent down, allowing his sunglasses the perfect opportunity to slide off his face.
Jameson kept his eyes to the carpet and sighed, knowing full well what was next. It wasn’t a second before the commotion started. He heard a young woman’s voice first, a high-pitched squeal followed by an excited declaration.
“It’s Justin Sweet!”
It was like every other time he was spotted in public, like someone flipped a switch, and suddenly the whole lobby of the movie theater was filled with people, pointing and pulling out their phones, all eyes on him. Jameson listened to his name, repeated in so many different voices and whispers, “Justin Sweet! Justin Sweet! Justin Sweet!” And just as quickly, he pulled his standard smile back on his face, swooped up his hat and sunglasses, and prepared to greet his fans.
“Run!”
Gray’s sudden declaration startled Jameson as he shot to full height. “What?”
“Let’s go!” Gray repeated, then looked frantically toward the doors. “We have a clear shot!”
“That’s not really…” Jameson stood still. It felt like little alarms were going off in his head, screaming to do what he always did, but then he caught the flare of excitement in Gray’s eyes.
How was he supposed to say no to a look like that? Not when there was a straight shot, not a single person in the way of the swinging doors to freedom.
Jameson swallowed, then pulled together his nerves. “Go!” he mouthed back to Gray and took off like a bolt toward the door. He knew that cameras were flashing and that he was about to cause a social media storm, but once his legs started pumping and Gray charged close by his side, he didn’t care.
He was just having too much fun.
“Oh my god,” Jameson laughed as they burst through the doors.
“Keep going,” Gray laughed, and as they sprinted to the second set of doors, he reached back, taking Jameson’s hand. “They’re right behind us!”
They only held hands for a brief second, a split moment when they were alone in the entryway. Just as quickly, they released each other, but it was enough to send Jameson surging with delirious energy all the way to the SUV. He was still laughing, his cheeks aching, when he jumped into the passenger side. And Gray had them on the road so fast, he knew they were in the clear by the time they passed the second stoplight.
“Shit,” Gray grumbled, steering them out of town. “I fucked it up. I’m so sorry you got spotted.”
“It’s oka
y,” Jameson said, still laughing. “I mean, I’m going to have to avoid the internet for another week, but we made it out.” He rubbed his palms on his knees, still jumpy with energy. “I didn’t have to sign any autographs! That’s huge, Gray.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gray asked.
Jameson appreciated that Gray understood the situation he was in, even if his instinct to run was probably not the best idea. And sure, the excitement that was making his heart hammer at the back of his ribcage was going to turn into anxiety soon enough. But running had felt so freeing, he couldn’t imagine making any other choice. “You got me in and out of the movies,” Jameson pointed out. “And I totally got to enjoy the matinee like a regular person. You didn’t knock my hat off my head, Gray. I made that mistake.”
Gray laughed. “I’ll glue it down next time?”
Jameson rubbed the top of his head. “I’d rather not shave my head, although maybe it would help me blend in.”
“Keep the locks,” Gray answered. “They look good on you. We’ll find a better hat.”
When they pulled back up to the mansion, Jameson was still jittery with excitement. Something about being around Gray made him feel hyper, and it wasn’t a feeling he was quite ready to let go of. Instead, when they climbed out of the SUV, he glanced toward the house. “Would you like a drink?”
Gray stood there, his leather jacket hanging open. He studied Jameson, looking him up and down as the wind rustled through the trees on the hillside. It was like Jameson could feel Gray’s gaze, touching him all over, and a shiver went down his spine.
“Sure,” Gray finally said. “I’m up for a beer.”
A tiny version of Jameson did backflips in his imagination while he led Gray into the house. “There’s a parlor,” he said over his shoulder. “Around behind the kitchen.”
Pickles came charging down the hallway, and as he greeted her, Jameson caught a good glimpse of Gray. He had a half-grin cocked up as his eyes went back and forth between Jameson and Pickles, like he was entertained by both of them.
The parlor was set up with a small bar, some lounge chairs, and a massive coffee table that had taken him forever to track down through an antique dealer. The room was meant for hosting little parties and even had these tiny chandeliers hanging across the ceiling, but its main use was as a lair for Jameson and Dee to binge TV with the good sound system. As they entered, Jameson hit a few buttons, and one of his chill playlists popped on.
“Safe at home,” Gray said.
Jameson laughed. “Maybe I will try a different disguise next time. I didn’t spend all those years sitting in wardrobe without picking up a couple of things.”
“Oh yeah?” Gray asked. He leaned against the bar, and Jameson caught the flash of lightning behind his eyes. “What kind of things?”
He paused at the counter, poised to open a bottle of beer, and it took him a moment to compose himself again and flip the cap off. It was just like at the fire. Somehow, Gray seemed to be homing in on the exact thing that Jameson wanted to hide.
Or the exact thing that he wanted Gray to discover was maybe more accurate.
“I guess a lot of what I learned isn’t that useful. Like going undercover as a cyborg wouldn’t help, for instance.”
Gray laughed. “Hold on a second. Could you really do that costume from Second Dragon?”
“Not the whole costume,” Jameson acknowledged. “Just some parts of the look.”
His heart pounding, he turned his attention to making himself a cocktail. He was dancing so close to the truth, it made him dizzy.
“Like, the makeup?” Gray asked.
Jameson swallowed as he poured a splash of vodka into his glass to meet the tonic. He felt shaky and vulnerable, but more than that, he felt compelled to keep going, like the temptation was too much to resist.
Like they had run away, and now they could finally be alone.
“I could probably do the makeup,” he said. “Actually.”
Jameson knew he was blushing, but he turned his eyes to Gray anyway. His security guard was standing only a few feet away, and he had a hungry look in his eyes. All at once, it seemed so obvious to Jameson. It was like Gray was made to sniff him out.
To find the person buried deep inside and drag him back to the surface.
“I want to see.”
Jameson took a sip of his drink, then leaned on the counter. “The cyborg makeup?”
Gray stuck his tongue against the side of his cheek, pushing it out to swallow a grin. “Or whatever,” he said casually.
Jameson stared, and the tiny Jameson in his head ran around in circles, screaming. “I could show you a little something, I guess,” he said. His voice came out softer than he expected, but still, he held his breathing close, maintaining his composure. “I think there’s something in this drawer right here.”
He crossed around to the side of the bar, then pulled open the small wooden drawer where he had stashed some makeup the last time Dee slept over for a weekend. And oh, look at that, Jameson thought to himself, as though it just so happened to be that nice eyeliner, the one that really brought out the green in his eyes.
He held it in the air, along with a single purple eyeshadow, then set them both on the bar. With clammy hands, Jameson perched himself close to Gray, and he felt another tremble of pleasure when Gray opened his body to greet him.
“So you can change your look, just with that?” Gray said, encouraging him.
“It just takes a little eyeliner…” Jameson answered, swiping the stick along his bottom lid. Even without a mirror, memory and touch let him find the lines. “And then your eye is a whole different shape.”
He pulled his hand back to demonstrate, and only a couple feet away, Gray had a wicked look in his eyes, like he was drinking up all the excited, nervous energy that was tingling down Jameson’s back. Like anxiety and glee were crashing together in Jameson’s chest, and Gray could feel it himself.
Jameson liked it, and he grabbed a small reflective coaster, holding it up for a better look.
“If you add in a little contour,” he said, letting his hand flutter. “You can practically turn into a different person.”
He dropped the coaster and met Gray’s electric eyes again. Jameson had barely done anything, and a true transformation would require at least an hour in front of the mirror. But when Gray licked his tongue across the back of his teeth, Jameson knew the magic had happened.
“Fuck,” Gray said, his voice turning raspy. “You’re so fucking hot.”
A sharp thrill grabbed Jameson by the back of the neck. Gray kept staring, not flinching away at all, and Jameson knew why. It was because he was seeing Jameson, the real version of him, right there with nowhere to hide.
“Thank you,” Jameson whispered, then fluttered his eyelashes.
After that, it was like Gray was transformed. He leaned forward, arching himself up, then extending his hand to take Jameson by the cheek. Jameson gasped as Gray stroked his thumb across the soft curves of Jameson’s smile, then down, along the strong angle of his jaw. A whimper fluttered through Jameson’s chest, the pleasure of Gray’s touch holding him still as his cock grew stiff in his pants.
His secrets were laid bare, and with Gray’s hand on his cheek, there was no use trying to hide.
Jameson leaned forward, and Gray did the same. Gray drew his thumb up, then traced it across Jameson’s lips. With a small gasp, Jameson took the thumb between his teeth, then bit down lightly.
The world turned electric. Jameson’s breath was warm and wet on Gray’s thumb as one second passed and then the next. He floated in his own body, like he was suspended in something warm, flying through a dream world. To take Gray’s thumb in his mouth like that felt submissive, almost needy, but when Gray let out his own satisfied growl, Jameson wanted to stay there all night.
He was showing Gray what he wanted, but in a way, he was showing it to himself for the first time, too.
And then, after what se
emed like an eternity, he parted his lips, and Gray removed his hand, tracing his thumb across Jameson’s lips one last time.
Gray stood back. He curled his fingers into his palm and stared at Jameson with a hunger in his eyes. “You know I want to do about a million different things to you right now, beautiful?”
“You do?” Jameson asked weakly.
Gray nodded. “That’s why it’s killing me to say goodnight.”
Jameson’s heart kept thudding, even as it felt like someone dumped ice over his head. “Goodnight?” he asked. His world had just exploded, and now Gray was leaving?
Gray pushed his hand through his hair, then smiled warmly. “Goodnight, before I get myself in trouble. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jameson.”
Jameson released a slow, steady breath. “Sure, Gray,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
Once Gray was down the hallway, Jameson fell back against the couch. His heart sank into his stomach; then his stomach sank to the floor. He grabbed a pillow and pressed his face against it as he considered screaming. Emotions surged through his muscles, and when he pressed his lips together, he could still feel Gray’s thumb and taste his skin. He felt horny and frustrated and happy and sad, all at the same time.
“Fuck,” Jameson groaned, then tossed the pillow aside. He might not have gotten a kiss at the end of it, but Jameson was never going to forget that date.
Gray
Gray woke up to his phone ringing and four missed calls from Raiden. He rubbed his hand over his face, then swung his legs off the side of the bed, hit a few buttons, and called back.
“What the hell?” Gray grumbled. “What’s wrong? Why are you up before noon?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Raiden answered. “Horatio and I need you to settle an argument.”
Gray smiled to himself. He’d always been the default leader of their group, and he was glad the guys were still thinking about him, even while he was off working for the security company. “What’s up?”
“Just a yes or no,” Raiden said. “Could Horatio and I build a submarine?”
