by Kilby Blades
But what of the other years? The year after he and Adam had graduated college, his papa had retired. The threat of retaliation wouldn’t have been so menacing. Had Ben held something else over Adam’s head to prevent him from coming clean? Or, by three years later, had Adam simply lost interest? Levi racked his brain to remember those years. Who had Adam been dating? Who had Levi been dating? There was something he didn’t like—correction: there was something that he hated—about Adam pulling this now, when he wanted something from Levi. A convenient trump card.
The more Levi thought about it, the more he realized that was what this was about. Everything with Adam was about control. It was just as Cy had said: Adam liked to move the chess pieces, to set up his board in a way that meant he got to win the game. The thing that made him a formidable CEO made him a dubious friend.
Not that he intended to be. And that was Levi’s weakness. Adam didn’t mean to be pushy. In Adam’s own mind, he wasn’t Bobby Fischer, he was more like P.T. Barnum: the ringmaster who served up delight and wonder—the one tasked to ensure that everybody had a good time.
But that wasn’t Adam’s job. And Levi’s life wasn’t a circus, though in New York, he felt it had started to be. They’d both acted as if Adam being heir to a billion-dollar fortune and a lifelong job as corporate CEO had no bearing on their friendship, but that was bullshit. Of course it did. Their lives had moved—had probably always been moving—in opposite directions. Levi had gathered the strength to move to San Francisco the second he’d been honest with himself. Whatever this something he and Adam had wasn’t strong enough to overcome their divergent trajectories. And no one wanted to still be crushing on their childhood best friend at thirty.
Adam just didn’t realize all of that yet. He’d carried the guilt from his secret. He’d been stuck—unable to get past his own lie. But now he’d said his piece. He’d started the one conversation they’d sorely needed to have, but never did. Now Adam could process it all and both of them could move on.
Something about this comforted Levi—made him feel less like he’d run away—made him feel like ushering in a new era of their friendship could be mutual. As he went through the rhythmic motions of developing his film, of stop baths and rinsing and hanging his prints, he let himself feel just a little bit of vindication. Adam had loved him too.
Levi felt a cool hand on his shoulder.
“Holy shit!” he cursed loudly, knocking over a tray in an effort to jump out of his own skin. By the time he let out an alarmed “What the fuck?” a second hand grabbed his other shoulder and turned him square. It was then that Levi laid his eyes on Adam.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” Levi asked more in surprise than anger, because his studio was always locked and this was nearly midnight in San Francisco.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Adam took a step back and put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I figured out the code.”
Adam’s birthday had been his code since forever. And, of course, Levi couldn’t count on his fierce watchdog outside. His girl had likely turned to putty in Adam’s hands.
After a few seconds of surprise, Levi’s heart was still racing. Even in dim light, he could see the details of Adam’s face. The tip of Adam’s nose and his cheeks were red. The collar of his lightweight fleece was ringed with wetness from perspiration. A quick scan of Adam’s body revealed running shorts and Asics. The tips of his hair on the scruff of his neck looked soaking wet. One pocket revealed the outline of AirPods and a phone.
“Out for a run?”
Adam didn’t answer. He did that when he didn’t want to lie. Levi was guessing it was no coincidence that Adam had found him there. Levi developed pictures when he needed to think. Adam ran. They knew this about one another. After fights with his dad, Adam would scare the shit out of Levi sometimes and run for hours.
“Did you call Elise to find my studio again?” Levi probed. He doubted Adam would have remembered.
“No,” Adam answered quietly. “I found it again on my own. I guess all roads lead back to you.”
And fuck if Adam’s words didn’t bring Levi’s heart right into his throat. “So when I asked for—”
“Space to think,” Adam finished for Levi, and sighed. “I know.”
“No, Adam.” Levi turned back to his tray and pulled out his ruined photo, used tongs to toss it aside. “You don’t know what it’s like to need space from you. You make it so I can’t fucking think.”
“Then don’t think,” Adam pressed.
“One of us has to,” Levi rejoined.
“Overthinking is what got us into this mess,” Adam implored.
Levi would clean up his darkroom later. Suddenly everything seemed claustrophobic. He sidestepped Adam, wove through the opening in his velvet curtain, and pushed out the darkroom door. Adam followed him, of course. In the open space, Levi rounded on Adam and glared across at him with his hands on his hips.
“See, that right there? That’s the fucked-up part of the way it’s always been: you setting something off and me following you right into the fire.”
“You know it’s not like that,” Adam said in his “everybody take it easy” voice.
“And you know it kind of is,” Levi volleyed back. “If you’re gonna come into my space after I asked you not to, at least do me the courtesy of owning your shit.”
Adam looked at him for a long time, his face unreadable. Levi didn’t care. He was too unhinged.
“It’s not over,” Adam said finally. “That’s what I came here to say. Letting go isn’t as simple as you’re making it seem.”
“Oh, I know it’s not simple. And that’s why you’ve got to let me go. The first time, I barely got out of it alive.”
Some hurt flashed over Adam’s eyes before it hardened to resolve. “Except you’re not out of it,” Adam said through clenched teeth. “Neither of us is. And before you try to go there, that’s not hubris. Don’t you think that if we were capable of ignoring it, we would’ve put it to bed? There’s a reason we’re still doing this.”
“What reason would that be?” Levi grilled.
“We never took it as far as it needed to go.”
Adam gave that a minute to sink in.
“All that time I was running,” he said slowly, taking a step toward Levi, “I should’ve been brooding, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t panicking or wondering whether you’d ever speak to me again. I ran eight miles because I felt fucking great. Better than great—relieved.”
Adam took another step toward Levi. “I won’t pretend I’m not hurt. I spent a few hours licking my wounds. But I realized there were other possibilities.”
This is madness, Levi thought he said aloud, but must not have, because Adam just kept walking toward him, spewing his crazy talk.
“Here’s the thing, Lev. Just like we’re never gonna not have this”—Adam motioned between them—“we’re never gonna not have our friendship. Maybe we make it harder by acting like it’s not there. Maybe the only thing that can make this right is to do the one thing we’ve never let ourselves do.”
“So, basically,” Levi began slowly because he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “you’ll feel better if we make out whenever we want to? Friends with benefits?”
Adam laughed a little and scratched the back of his neck. “No, not whenever we want to. But maybe we’ll get past it, if we literally get past it.”
Levi turned and paced. Even if he couldn’t get physical distance from Adam, walking to the other end of his studio gave him the slightest bit of space to think. Somewhere along the way, he’d grabbed one of Baxter’s chew toys from his desk and grasped it in his palm like a stress ball. And Levi felt like one too—just one big ball of stress.
“This seems like a thinly veiled attempt to sleep with me,” Levi deadpanned finally, still unable to grasp the implications.
“Maybe it’s a thinly veiled attempt to experience what I’ve always wanted.”
Le
vi didn’t dare ask what that was.
“I get that I just broke off an engagement. I get that my father just died. And I get that you’re scared that I’m just… freaking out. What you don’t get,” Adam said slowly, “is that the only thing that hasn’t changed in all that time is us.”
“I got over us.” Levi sounded like a broken record, even if his song was a lie.
“Then you’re the lucky one,” Adam said. “Because I’ve done things I’m not proud of to try, but I can’t get over you.”
Adam fell silent. They both knew it was Levi’s decision. What Levi hated most was that it actually made sense. Levi would never admit to Adam how not over him he was. It wasn’t a bad theory that just doing it already would break the tension.
But what if it was even better than that? What if it led them both to the conclusion that things between them never would have worked? What if doing this would prove that the smoking-hot fantasy sex of their imaginations was dead off and they were incompatible in bed? And what was worse? Them sleeping together now and things being awkward for a month, or them never sleeping together and things being awkward forever?
“So we’re just supposed to switch gears?” Levi asked minutes later, when he finally found his voice. “Go back to my place and fuck? Act like the past forty-eight hours didn’t just happen?”
“No.” Even as Levi felt himself coming unraveled, Adam’s voice was rational and calm. “We let things happen whenever they feel right. It’s not about forcing things—it’s about not holding back. I’m exhausted, Lev. Tonight I’m taking a shower and going to bed. But instead of pretending for the five thousandth time that I don’t want to fall asleep with you in my arms, maybe I’ll just ask whether you want that too.”
The instant Adam spoke the words, a tingle of vindication crept up Levi’s spine and he finally saw the thrill for what it was. It wasn’t just sexual intimacy that would come with an arrangement like this. The truth was turning out to be a heady, addicting sensation.
“It’ll change things,” Levi uttered, some other internal part of him screaming to shut up and stop fighting it.
Adam spoke softly. “Wasn’t it you who said everything’s already changing?”
“What if it changes us so much that we can’t bounce back?”
At the least-helpful moment possible, Adam remained silent. Levi thought again of what his father used to say.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
The past ten years were solid proof that quote was true. The past ten days were proof that even a year in San Francisco hadn’t cured Levi. Maybe it was time for something more extreme.
“One condition,” Levi said, some part of him still staving off surrender. “Scratch that—I have two.”
A tentative smile bloomed on Adam’s face as he asked, “What are they?”
“Whatever we do”—Levi gave his most serious look—“ends the second you go back to New York.”
“What’s the second?” Adam asked, anticipation rolling off him in waves.
“I get to be on top.”
Part III
Chapter Nineteen: New Dawn New Day New Life Feeling Good
LEVI was dreaming what had to be the best dream of his life, though the exact circumstances were hazy. It had begun as his most aspirational recurring dream: Levi sitting in the audience in an auditorium in London hearing his name called as a nominee for the British Photographic Portrait Prize, the highest honor for what Levi did—like an Oscar, but for the portrait photography world.
In his dream, Russell Tovey was always announcing the nominees, and both of Levi’s parents were still alive. His parents sat on one side of him and Adam sat on the other, and when Russell called his name, Adam leaned into him, kissed his jaw, and squeezed his arm. Dream-Levi waited with bated breath to hear the winner called. When Russell said Levi’s name again, his mother squeezed his hands excitedly as Adam pressed a firm kiss to his lips.
As the sound of applause rang up around him, Levi stumbled only somewhat gracefully out of his seat and toward the stage, where Russell had stepped back to make way for the person truly intended to present him with the award. Wrapped tightly around one white-gloved hand were three leashes that led to three fully grown corgis, all of whom wore tiny canine crowns. In the hand that didn’t hold the leads, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II held Levi’s award.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Levi breathed only after he had bowed to the monarch. He extended his hand to accept the award. Queen Elizabeth took a step back and gestured to the podium. He glanced behind himself long enough to see Russell throw him an encouraging wink. Resting his award on the podium, he reached into his tuxedo jacket to pull out the speech he had prepared. On a screen behind him flashed photos from the series he only aspired to take of subjects in the Castro, in real life—the crown jewels of half a lifetime of work.
Then something happened: something tugged at his pants from beneath the podium. That was all he needed—for some random piece of A/V equipment to catch his fly. Pressing his hands to the top edge of the podium, Levi steadied himself, wiggling his groin area as subtly as possible to shake the mystery equipment loose. That only made the tugging worse and led to an unmistakable, very specific kind of tug—the tug of his zipper being pulled down.
Oh no.
Levi’s eyes widened as he stared out at an awaiting crowd, who smiled in anticipation of his speech. By then his typed paper was unfolded in front of him, waiting for his attention, waiting for him to read. He’d memorized the first few lines in the limo, just in case he lost his paper. But at that moment, he couldn’t remember the speech. He swung his eyes toward his own seat in the crowd—toward Adam.
But instead of one vacant seat next to his mother, there were two. His mama beamed at her son. But Levi couldn’t smile back—not when the zipper-lowerer was pulling him out of his pants at the same time as lapping at his head.
Two notions warred in his head at the same time: This is so wrong, and Where the fuck is Adam? And then, finally—sickeningly—a third question: Does anybody know? He glanced at the two people standing behind him. Russell’s eyes were on his midsection—or whatever part of it he might have seen from the rear—and Levi saw, more than heard, him say, “Bloody hell.” The dogs looked like they were judging him, but the queen just gave him a wink.
Levi closed his eyes, unable to process all of it, needing to regroup. Just a few more seconds, then he’d ask his surprise visitor to kindly stop—and to tuck him back in while he was at it. Just a few more seconds, and—
“Oh, yeah—right there,” Levi moaned inside his mind. Or… wait. Had he just moaned that out loud?
When his eyes flew open again, it was sunlight rather than spotlight that blinded his eyes and Adam was between his legs. The second his brain registered the vision of Adam’s lips sliding up and down his glistening shaft, the wave of pleasure that shot through him felt so strong, he nearly came.
If Adam knew that Levi had fully awakened, he didn’t let on, though he really might not have known, for how focused he was on taking in Levi’s every inch. Easier said than done. Levi was so blessed in the dick department—so long and so thick that he couldn’t even be mad that most of his partners could barely take in more than two-thirds. One of the hottest things anyone could do for Levi was what Adam was doing then—taking him all the way deep into his throat.
Levi watched as Adam made another pass, descending slowly until his lips grazed the groomed, dark hair at Levi’s base. Just as the head of his dick slid farther into Adam’s throat, Adam’s warm breath fanned out to tickle Levi’s pubes. The hand Adam wasn’t using to grip Levi’s hip, he was using to jerk himself off. Levi’s dick throbbed, but he didn’t come. Adam moaned long and deep, and Levi felt the vibration down to his toes.
Suddenly Levi wanted at Adam—wanted to serve up every maddening ounce of pleasure that Adam was giving to him. He cuffed Adam’s neck with his hand as Adam slowly pulle
d off. His beautiful lips looked a little swollen, his eyes looked drunk with desire, and he was a bit winded from not breathing properly for so long.
“C’mere,” Levi commanded, coaxing Adam up until both of them were on their knees. Keeping one hand on Adam’s neck and grabbing his ass with the other, Levi pulled him in for a kiss. Levi didn’t know what felt better—his dick in Adam’s mouth, their dicks fighting now as they ground and played from their hips, or Adam’s deep, wanton kiss. God, the things this man could do with his tongue.
When Adam’s hand slid from palming his ass to tease his puckered hole, Levi remembered himself and why he’d gotten them up. Levi had wanted Adam on all fours. Even when Levi broke their kiss, arching back to reach into the bedside table for some lube, Adam stayed on him—nipping his neck and sliding an arm behind Levi’s waist so that he couldn’t stray too far. The moment that Adam’s lips closed around Levi’s nipple, Levi’s hand closed around his lube. Adam pulled off Levi a second after Levi flipped open the top. Was that hope in his eyes? Just what did Adam want him to do? Levi would contemplate such questions later. For the moment, Levi had a plan.
“Finish what you started,” Levi ordered in the voice that only came out in the bedroom, and that had never been spoken so commandingly as it had just then. Adam’s eyes widened, but he obliged, starting to push Levi back onto the bed. “Uh-uh. On your hands and knees.”
Levi was already spreading lube on his fingers as Adam took him in his mouth, teasing Levi’s head with his teeth before taking him back in. Once Adam was deeply submerged, working Levi with thoroughness and concentration, Levi bent and reached his arm, opening Adam’s crack and letting his fingers tease his hole.
Adam moaned loudly, even at the light tease, knowing—maybe begging for—what was to come. Levi didn’t need his other four fingers to work Adam to the brink of explosion. All he needed was one smart thumb. Adam didn’t stop moaning the long seconds Levi spent sliding it in. He moaned even louder as Levi began massaging. His index and middle fingers, still outside of Adam, he used to lightly graze his balls. By then Adam had begun to touch himself again—Levi could feel the rhythm. Adam tightened from the inside every time Levi twitched and moaned. And so the circle continued—Adam getting off from knowing the pleasure he gave Levi and Levi getting off from the exact same.
