Stephanie snickered. “So you can’t talk about it, but… are you happy about it? I don’t know Clive very well, but the way you two just looked at each other…”
Warmth flooded my face. “All I can say is that there’s something between us, something that will probably get me in a lot of trouble, but in all honestly I won’t have a single regret at the end of it all. I like him, and he makes me feel better.”
Stephanie looked up at me for a long moment, her eyes slightly wide, before she pulled me in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, Victor. Happy birthday.”
I closed my eyes as the wind and the snow whipped at my back. “Thank you, Steph. For everything.”
Cross Island, ch 16
Chapter Sixteen
Clive
Victor’s mood had a buoyancy I wasn’t used to. He wasn’t smiling or chattering, hadn’t begun reflecting on the great time we’d had at Junior’s, but as we walked back to the car I could tell he was satisfied. Content.
The urge to grab his hand and squeeze it struck me fast. After a dicey moment when I slid my own out of my pocket, I curled my fingers into a fist and chose not to make a PDA move. I knew myself enough to identify the signs that I was becoming infatuated with someone, but that wasn’t why I didn’t touch him. I just wasn’t sure that he wanted me to do it out in the open in front of God and all of Brooklyn.
“So, did I fuck up?” I asked bluntly as we waited at the corner to return to the vehicle. “You seemed to enjoy yourself, but I could be way off.”
“Nah, you’re not.” Victor hunched his shoulders against a blast of wind. “I’ll be honest, and maybe this sounds shitty, but the main person I would have had a problem with is Stephanie. Mere and Tonya got used to dealing with me after I was in their apartment for a while, and Angel has always had a ton of patience for my bullshit. Stephanie is the one who doesn’t hold her tongue, so we butt heads a lot.”
I was so thrown off guard that I missed it when the light changed and wound up staring after him when he strode ahead of me. Scowling, I hurried after him and tried to formulate my response as we reached the SUV. It was like a cozy haven compared to the damp snow and wind.
Victor turned on the heat after the vehicle roared to life. He rubbed his hands together as the SUV warmed up, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “What?”
“The way you talk about yourself leaves a lot to be desired.” At his eyebrow raise, I scoffed softly. “From how you describe it, everyone just barely tolerates you.”
He snorted. “It’s true.”
“No, it’s not true,” I snapped. “I like you, and I don’t like most people.”
“Yeah, because we’re both fucking weird as we already established.” Victor tilted his head against the seat and turned slightly so he could look at me. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself if that’s what you’re thinking. I just know where I stand when it comes to my sister and her friends, and most other people who knew me back in the day. If you’d known me back when I was some douchebag picking on Raymond because I was closeted and… and gay, and I thought he was straight, you’d have hated my ass too.”
“You sure about that?” I asked dryly. “Don’t underestimate the feelings of another deeply closeted gay boy. I can say now as an adult that you probably deserved for him to despise you at the time, maybe even now, but back then? I don’t know how it would have changed my world view to see a gay kid being the aggressor instead of the reverse. Back then, all I knew was that gay boys got AIDS or the shit kicked out of them.”
Victor flinched. “That hurts to hear.”
“It was the eighties and nineties. It was reality.” After another hesitation, I reached out to rub my thumb along his tattooed hand. “My point is that you’re not some asshole who people can’t stand to look at. You have a complicated history with those people, but your sister looked genuinely happy to spend your birthday with you.”
He’d looked down to watch the path of my finger as it slid against his skin. “She did, right?”
“Yes.”
“Guess that means I should think of what I’m going to do for her birthday.”
“I doubt she was going for quid pro quo, but maybe you could start by having dinner with her and Angel some time.”
Since he hadn’t jerked his hand away from me, I covered his hand with my own and squeezed. After a beat, he slid his fingers through mine. My heart pumped slightly faster, and I tried to remember the last time I’d caught feelings this fast but couldn’t. Even with Michael, it had been a slow burn of me being ridiculously attracted to him to the point of stressing over whether he’d be into me. I’d never had these… boyish stomach flutters. I’d mostly felt uncertain and worried about whether the connection between us had been real or a figment of my imagination. That question had remained in my head for the entire duration of our relationship.
The heat kicked in, blowing warm air at us, but Victor didn’t shift the vehicle into drive. We sat in the gloom of the car, facing each other with my hand over his. After a moment, I raised my hand and dragged my fingers along his scarred face from forehead to mouth until they pulled at his full lower lip.
“I want to give you a birthday present.”
Another of those reluctant smiles crept onto his face. “Yeah? Like what?”
“You tell me.”
The way he glanced away then back before chewing on the corner of his lip was all I needed to know. Victor was as blunt as me. When it was just the two of us, sex was the only source of shyness.
“Do you want me to ask you?” I suggested, voice pitching lower. “You can tell me if I’m right.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Do that.”
“You want me to fuck you again.” I slid the tips of my fingers down his scarred, stubbled cheek, down to his throat, then circled them around his neck. “And you want me to make you watch my dick slide in and out of your ass again.”
Victor’s breath hitched. Very subtly, his thighs spread apart in the driver’s seat.
“Is that what you want, Victor?”
He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet vehicle. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I want that.”
My dick throbbed at the low pitch of his voice, and the way he was squirming in his seat. I wondered how hard he was. If he wanted to touch it right here in the car with dozens of people rushing around on the sidewalk just outside the SUV.
I slid my hand down lower, dragging along his jacket, then settled it in his lap. He was so hard that I could easily trace the outline of his shaft through his jeans. I pressed down, and he moaned so soft and desperate that it was a miracle I didn’t unzip him and pull it out right there. He wanted a good fuck for his birthday? I’d make it the best one of his life. Play with him until he was a sweaty and boneless and incapable of doing anything but pleading for more. I’d take him apart so completely that he’d need me to tend to him after if he was going to put himself back together again.
“I’ll get a hotel,” I said softly, still massaging his hardness. “Somewhere with room service.”
“What’s wrong with your house?”
The idea of my stalker spying on us was what was wrong with my house. Not knowing how he knew we were sleeping together, and exposing Victor to scrutiny when this was still so new and raw, made me want to find Travis Gills and choke the shit out of him. We would deal with it all as soon as Chester reviewed the footage but for now, on Victor’s birthday, we could have complete privacy.
“I don’t want to wait for the hour-long car ride,” I said, giving him one last squeeze. “And I want to see you and your tattoos in a fancy bathrobe before I rip it off you and bend you over an enormous bed.”
Victor’s hips thrust up against my hand. “Fuck yes. Let’s do it.”
His eagerness was a drug. It intoxicated me to the point of grabbing the back of his neck and yanking him into a kiss, slow and wet and promising, right there in the vehicle where anyone could glance through the windshield and se
e. His pulse was thrumming beneath my palm as I cupped them around his neck, but he didn’t pull away or hesitate to respond.
I couldn’t wait to get him to a hotel.
***
Victor
When Clive said he’d wanted to get a hotel for the night, I’d expected something a little low-rent and shady. One of the places people took hookers for a few hours before coming once or twice and checking out. I’d even joked about whether the people at the front desk would have trouble figuring out who was escorting whom.
Instead, he took us to a Four Seasons in downtown Manhattan. Even my broke ass knew that was a luxury hotel, and here he was using it as a spot just because he was impatient to dick me down. I probably should have felt like a hoe, but there was nothing wrong with being a hoe, so I couldn’t help a smug smirk when people glanced my way in surprise.
“I bet they’re wondering where you found my ugly ass.”
Clive shot me a cold look. “You need to stop.”
“It’s true. Look at me and look at you.”
He didn’t become any less arctic. “You have tattoos and a few scars but otherwise look like your ridiculously gorgeous sister. I think she would resent being called ugly.”
“You have something against ugly people?”
Clive sighed and turned towards the doors again, waiting for our floor. “You’re gonna make me regret pampering you for the night.”
“You’re so full of shit. I bet you have dreams about fucking me while I’m wearing a fluffy white robe, just like you dreamed about having me in a fancy suit.” When his expression didn’t so much as shift, I leaned into him to speak directly into his ear. “Admit it.”
Clive grabbed the back of my neck then turned his face so our mouths could brush together. I leaned in automatically, parting my lips for him. He smiled as he deepened the kiss. I knew that smug smile was probably directed at me and how eager I was for him, but I couldn’t stop myself from gripping his shoulders hard as he sucked on my tongue.
The elevator doors whooshed open. Clive turned away before I did, leaving me panting with my face warm and mouth wet. I barely spared a glance to the bellhop who’d stepped inside.
Clive raised an eyebrow at him and shifted closer to me. “Good evening,” he rumbled.
The bellhop looked between us, nodded, then pretended like we hadn’t just been sucking face like a couple of teenagers. Clive took the opportunity to slide his hand behind me, cupping my ass just slight enough for one of his fingers to press against the seam. I could barely feel anything through the thick denim, yet my body pulsed in response. Even the slightest bit of attention from Clive, and I was panting for him no matter how I tried to hide it. Not that I tried to hide it when we were alone.
He’d been slow to make another move after our second time together, and it had left me wondering whether he’d been waiting on a sign from me. I’d sweated it out with uncertainty every night and had jerked off to the fantasy of him coming in my room to once again slide into my ass, but it hadn’t happened. I’d gotten antsy and paranoid that maybe I’d behaved adequately the one night, but he wasn’t going to try again since I was closeted and a mess. He’d barely tolerated Michael not being out, and that dude had been open with all his friends. I was barely out in my own head.
The elevator dinged again, and Clive steered me out. I felt the eyes of the bellhop on me, but I didn’t look back. More surprisingly, a shadow of embarrassment and worry didn’t fall across me. There was no instinct to shove Clive away. The exact opposite happened, and I felt yet another surge of arousal that Clive was claiming me, and all my tats and scars, for just about anyone in the hotel to see.
When Clive swiped us into the room, he tugged me behind him. I got one glance at the lavish suite before he pushed me up against the door and took my mouth again. His tongue was everywhere, the taste of sugar and alcohol nearly overwhelming. I groaned and gripped him harder, pinning our lower bodies together so I could feel just how hard he was for me. The pressure of our erections sliding together, even through layers of fabric, made me shake. The combination of sensation and this still being surreal got my motor going so fast I could barely keep up.
I broke away with a gasp. “Lemme blow you.”
Clive pressed his fingers against my lower lip. “I love how much you enjoy sucking dick.”
I could feel a flush warming my face again, but I didn’t deny it. I did love it. I’d always loved it. Since high school, it was what I’d fantasized about the most. It was why as soon as Shawn had given me an opening, I’d ripped open his jeans and gobbled him down like he’d offered me the secret of eternal health.
“Please?” I sucked the tips of his fingers into my mouth then let go. “I’m always paranoid at your house. Like if I get into it too much and let my guard down, something’s bound to go down.”
A shadow crossed Clive’s face for just a moment before he ran his thumb along my lip again. “That’s why we’re here. Just in case.”
“Just in case someone tries something at the very moment your dick is down my throat? Yeah, it’s a real possibility.”
Clive didn’t answer at first. He kept his body pressed tight to mine, studying me, before leaning in for another slow damp kiss. “Is that why you keep waiting for me to make a move, Victor?”
Shit, I’d known that was coming, and it still tripped me up.
“Yeah, partially. The other part is that… I don’t want to assume or jump the gun.”
“Assume what?” Clive asked with a laugh in his voice. “That I want you? Gorgeous, the jig is up in that regard. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you at that mortifying QFindr party.”
My mouth dropped open as surprise swept me.
Clive’s smile widened in response. “That’s right. I took one look at you, all tough and guarded and mysterious, and was intrigued. Then when we first spoke, the way you responded to being chastised… How you’d look down and apologize? Mmm.”
I bucked my hips against his. “Figures you like that shit. Control freak.”
“Hell yes, I like it.” Clive leaned in again, licking my lips in a way that turned my knees to water. “This big scowling tough guy dropping his eyes and demurring to me? You’re lucky I didn’t try to fuck you right there in that hipster diner.” He licked me again, slower this time, with his hands balled up in my jacket. “Could you tell I was attracted to you?”
“No. I don’t know.”
Clive drew my lower lip into his mouth, sucked on it, then released me with a low growl. “Because you’re hung up on bullshit that doesn’t matter.”
“What, like, making sure some brave internet troll doesn’t try to shank you?”
Clive shrugged off his coat and finally stepped away from the door. “No, fool. That’s justifiable shit to be hung up on.”
“Oh, so now you think so?” I adjusted my dick, then stepped further into the room. It was fancier than I’d expected. Fluffy rug, ginormous bed, a sofa and an arm chair set up in a small living area in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. We were on a high floor, but the windows reflected us so completely that I wondered if people could see us from the outside. “What happened to change your mind?”
“Nothing.” The clipped tone caught my attention, but Clive distracted me by unloading the small plastic bag he’d picked up at a corner store. Condoms. Lubricant. Water. The essentials. “More importantly, the bullshit you get hung up on is the differences in our background, and how you think people perceive you. I’m willing to bet money that it’s that more than anything else, even your insecurity about your sexuality, that keeps you from making a first move with me.”
I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it on the back of the armchair. “I don’t feel insecure about being gay with you, so you’re probably right.”
Clive watched me prowl around the room for a moment before sitting on the couch, facing the windows. “Explain.”
“Damn, why does everything have to turn into a whole analysis all t
he time?”
“Because I want to understand you. So explain.”
His tone left no room for misunderstanding. This may be my birthday, but he wasn’t about to give me what I wanted until I played his game. The fascinating game of figure Victor out. “Look, it’s not that complicated. I don’t feel insecure with you because… being with you is different than anything I’ve ever experienced. Yeah, I don’t feel comfortable telling people from my old block about being gay just yet, but most of that’s because… because of all the Raymond stuff. And the thing with Shawn. I just don’t want to talk about it.” I said it all in a rush before moving on. “It’s like this—I spent four years trying not to look at other guys too long because I thought it would make me feel like shit all over again, but it’s not happening with you. You wanting me and being all up on me? It makes me feel good. The best I’ve felt in years.” I turned away to stare at our reflections in the window again. He looked hot in his tight shirt and dark jeans, thighs spread just slightly with his hands resting on them. “So when I don’t make a move, it’s because I’m afraid to do the wrong thing because I was hoping after all this ends, and I’m reassigned, we could… keep hanging out sometimes.”
“Keep fucking?”
“Not just fucking,” I said defensively. “I actually like talking to you too. You’re a cool dude. We get along. And you’re literally my only friend.”
He smiled, slow and self-indulgent, and even a little surprised. “I’m into that idea for the same reasons. And I’m going to be blunt—I like you. A lot.”
“Is it real pathetic if I ask why?”
“No,” he said with a snort. “Besides everything else, there’s something to be said about the fact that you’re... someone who struggles with his identity and still…” Clive’s gaze flicked downward for a moment in one of those rare shows of vulnerability. His mouth curved up wryly. “And still you’re into me, into this, enough to admit to it. No bullshit games. No push and pull. Even that first day at QFindr, you were honest about who you are and what you want.”
“Not like with your ex,” I guessed. “Even though I’m way more messed up?”
Cross Island Page 17
