Killer Queen

by Serene Franklin

  “It’s nothing bad—at least I hope not. I do drag sometimes. On Friday nights I perform downtown at a bar.” After confessing my Mac problem, it only seemed fair to tell Aoibheann everything.

  “Shite. You’re full of surprises. I hope you know Samir and I will be at your next show. And I will kick yer arse if you’re prettier than me.” Her lips curled into a smile that crinkled the corners of her blue eyes.

  I expressed my gratitude while refilling our glasses. Aoibheann had a million questions about drag and preparation, and I was more than happy to answer them all. Knowing I had her full support warmed me more than any whiskey ever could. We spent the rest of the morning on lighter subjects: my upcoming school year, the vacation she and Samir were planning for their one-year wedding anniversary, a particularly frustrating new client she had at work. Our easy exchange helped quiet my inner conflict over what to do about Mac, even if only for a couple of hours.

  I didn’t have any of the answers I was seeking when I left her house. Even so, I felt better than I had when I’d arrived. Aoibheann had reminded me of all of the things in my life that weren’t Mac. I had a renewed sense of perspective that I hoped would help me make the right decision.

  With just a few weeks left before classes resumed, I sat in the middle of my bed with my laptop and tried to make a schedule that wouldn’t leave me feeling burnt out. Choosing the classes for my major was easy enough. The electives were the source of my ire. I’d been locked away in my room for almost two hours reading up on courses, and checking where on campus they were located. Building hopping in the snow with minimal time between classes wasn’t something I wanted to do again. I made that mistake during my first year.

  I was two heartbeats away from flinging my computer onto the floor when I heard a knock at my door. It had to be Mac. He was out at the table doing his work. I called out for him to come in.

  “Dude, are you busy?”

  I closed the lid of my laptop, and turned all of my attention on Mac. “Not particularly.”

  He grinned at me, and I wanted nothing more than to scoot over and invite him into my bed. “Good, because we’re going out.”

  “Where?”

  “A magical place where time ceases to exist.” My lifted brow and lack of a reply must have burst his positivity bubble. He rolled his eyes while stepping inside my room then motioned around. “It’s been like, four months since you moved in, and you still haven’t bought any furniture. We’re going to IKEA to remedy that. Come on, it’s my treat.”

  I slid out of bed with every intention of marching up to him and telling him that I could damn well buy my own stuff. It was bad enough that Mac paid for most of the bills in the flat. I couldn’t have him buying me other shite. The fight bled out of me the second his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me close. His tender kiss stole my words of protest and brought my dilemma back to the front of my mind.

  “You know I love it when you get all feisty, but can you just let me do this? You should at least have a proper dresser or something. I promise it’ll be fun.”

  “Fine. I’ll come, but you’re not buying it. I can afford to buy a dresser myself.”

  He squeezed me tighter and hummed. “You know what? I’m taking that as a win. Get dressed.” He began to pull away then abruptly stopped. “That feels so wrong to say. I’ll remedy that when we get back.” With another kiss and a slap to my arse, he was gone.

  We survived the nearly hour-long drive in Mac’s death trap and ended up having a really fun time at the store. It was my first time at an IKEA, and I hadn’t fully grasped how massive the place would be. We spent almost two hours being silly and going through the showroom. Mac had insisted on testing out every single couch and mattress he came across, slowing down our progress. After one look at his puppy-dog eyes, I found myself right next to him every time.

  I ended up scrawling down the number of a dresser and a closet organizer for us to pick up on our way out. Mac had insisted we eat first and led me to the restaurant. I tried the Swedish meatballs while Mac got chicken fingers from the kids’ menu and three hot dogs. I side-eyed him when he ordered, and again when we sat down. All he did was smile at me and wink in return, insisting that finger food was the best food.

  After eating, we went down to the warehouse where Mac handed over a list with three item numbers. I figured he must have found something he liked and didn’t spare it another thought. We paid for our items, loaded up the death trap, and headed home.

  Lugging those fuckin’ boxes up from the car was a righteous pain in the arse, though I was glad to have Mac with me. On our third trip he’d carried twice as much as me and assured me that his muscles weren’t just for show. The bastard.

  The boxes for Mac’s mystery item were the last to be brought in. They were large, flat, and extremely heavy. With sweat dripping from my forehead, I set the box I’d carried up on the counter and breathed a sigh of relief. “Where do you want these?”

  “Your room,” he replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I bought you a desk, dude. Classes are starting next month, and I figured you should have a proper place to study, or write papers, or whatever. You won’t always want to use the table out here, and I know I can be loud. Come on, you can smile. Let’s skip the part where you pretend to be angry with me and get right to the bashful grin.”

  I wasn’t angry—not at all. I loved that Mac had been thinking about my needs. A desk should have been something I thought of. With a space of my own to work I wouldn’t have to spend as much time at the library, allowing me more time with—do not finish that thought. “Thank you, Mac. I mean it. That was a very thoughtful gift.”

  “I hope you like it. It’s all glass.”

  I nodded toward the box on the counter. “That explains why these are so fuckin’ heavy.”

  “Yeah, sorry for making you lug your gift up to the apartment.” He stepped into my space, and I took a step back, stopping when my back hit the counter. Mac’s scruff tickled my jaw while he braced his arms on either side of me on the counter’s edge. “I can give you a massage later to work out any kinks you might have. I promise to be impeccably thorough.”

  “That’s the second promise you’ve made today.”

  “I kept the first one, didn’t I?” He pressed his lips to mine before I could reply, distracting me in the best possible way.

  I wanted Mac all over me, though he seemed content with just kissing. I palmed his cock through his shorts while my other hand fisted the back of his hair, holding his mouth to mine. Mac groaned into the kiss then rolled his hips against my hand before stopping himself. He drew back, taking a deep breath through his kiss-swollen lips.

  “Fuck, you’re intoxicating,” he scraped out.

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “I’m going to fuck your brains out tonight—make no mistake. I’d really like to do it after we put all that shit together.”

  “Why not now?”

  “We both know I’m going to pass out after I fuck you. I want your stuff to be all ready before that.”

  Damn him. “You win. If this takes less than an hour, I’ll wear anything you want tonight.”

  His eyes lit up, and he grinned wolfishly. “Anything?” I nodded, stunned when he pushed off the counter and took the box with him. “You’re on.”

  It wasn’t a real wager. We both won regardless of the outcome, though I still felt like I was losing. I willed myself to be blissfully ignorant for just a bit longer and followed Mac down the hall.

  Fifteen

  Mac

  My calves, thighs, and lungs burned from exertion as I ran at a brisk pace on a treadmill. I was sweating buckets, and I didn’t even care. I wasn’t at the gym in my mind. Instead, I was at home, sprawled out in bed with Dove. The memory from last night was still fresh in my mind—hell, I could almost still feel him against my skin. While watching Die Another Day he’d tried to convince me that Daniel Craig was a better Bond than Pi
erce Brosnan. Kids these days. He had the audacity to say that Craig was even hotter than Brosnan. Now, I considered myself to be a straight man up until a few months ago, but I’d always had a man-crush on Brosnan’s Bond. Arguing about it led to wrestling, which inevitably ended up with me pinning Dove with his hands over his head while his hard-on poked my ass.

  I shook my head and snickered to myself at the memory. My sudden outburst caught Bryan’s attention. He was on my left, also on a treadmill. Maxim ran even less than I did, and was over at the free weights.

  “You’re thinking about Dubhlainn, aren’t you?” Bryan asked with a knowing grin.

  “What? How did you know?”

  “You’re smiling—while doing cardio. You hate cardio. You hate running more than anything, yet here you are with a big dopey smile.” The corners of Bryan’s mouth lifted, his green eyes glimmering.

  “I hate avocado more than running,” I muttered.

  Bryan snorted a laugh. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but don’t try to deny that you were thinking about him.”

  I pulled the kill switch on my machine and slowed my pace to match until I came to a stop. Bryan did the same, following me over to the benches where we’d set our towels. “I’ll own that shit. The kid is a riot. I was just thinking about some stuff he said last night. He tried to come for Brosnan, dude.”

  Bryan clutched his towel to his chest and gasped with dramatic flair. “He did not.”

  “Oh, but he did.”

  “And you’re smiling because…?”

  I shrugged. “He’s adorable. Frustratingly adorable. Sometimes I think he acts contrary just to try and piss me off. Last night definitely turned into one of those times.”

  Laughter shook Bryan’s shoulders as he sat down on the bench and leaned back against the wall. I dropped down next to him and did the same, bumping his knee with mine. “I like seeing you happy, man.”

  “I’m always happy.”

  “You know what I mean,” Bryan said with a roll of his eyes.

  “Do I?”

  “The handsome-dunce act really doesn’t fit when you’re talking to someone who knows you.”

  “Aw, you think I’m handsome?” Bryan cut his eyes at me, letting me know my humor was not appreciated. “Bry, I genuinely don’t know what you’re getting at.” Well, I had an idea, but I was hoping I was wrong.

  A humorless sigh resonated in his throat. “You like Dubhlainn. More than you’ve been saying. Probably more than you’re comfortable admitting, though that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. Do you remember last year when you said you were waiting for Eli and me to ‘pull our heads out of our asses’? That’s what’s going on here.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” I held my hands up toward Bryan in the universal sign for wait-just-a-fucking-minute—at least that was what it should have been. “My situation with Dove is nothing like what you and Eli went through. Watching you guys was painful, dude. You were both so into each other, and too afraid to act on it.”

  “And you think this is any different?”

  “Of course it is. Dove and I have been upfront with each other. We don’t want more than what we’ve got, and that’s fine by me.” It had to be, it was my idea, after all. Besides, I was happy. Bryan had been miserable while he pined away for Eli. Unrequited love had made him suffer, and that definitely wasn’t me.

  “It’s not exactly the same as it was with Eli, but it isn’t entirely different either. Just like me, you can’t see it because you’re too close.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m better at this than you, remember? It was me who gave you advice and pointed you in the right direction. Do you think I wouldn’t be able to do the same for myself?”

  Bryan nudged me with his shoulder, his gaze turning sympathetic. “You’re the best at giving relationship advice, despite having never been in a serious relationship.”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Coach don’t play,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light. I didn’t like where Bryan was going with this.

  He hummed while nodding, a small grin pulling at his lips. “That’s true. But I’m being serious, Mac. I don’t mean this the wrong way.” He paused for a moment, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t think you’re able to objectively look at your situation the way you can with others’. If you end up getting hurt because of this—”

  “Dove and I are fine, Bry. You don’t have to be concerned.”

  He sighed, slumping his broad shoulders. “Maybe if you keep telling yourself that it’ll be true one day. I see now why you didn’t tell me what to do back then. You told me I had to realize it for myself, and you were right. I wouldn’t have believed you, just as you’re doubting me now.”

  “Come on, don’t say it like that. I trust you. I do. I just think you’ve got it wrong this time.” I bumped my knee into his and flashed him a reassuring smile.

  “Yeah, okay. If it changes your mind at all, Maxim agrees with me,” he said before he got up, heading over to the free weights.

  “Wait, you guys talked about me? Did Maxy, like, actually talk? What did he say?”

  Bryan flipped me off as he walked away. As amused as I was over the two of them joining forces to help me out, their concern shook me up a bit. What if they were right? Surely I’d know if I wanted more—if Dove wanted more. He wasn’t the type to hold back. He’d tell me if things had changed, just as I would for him.

  Ugh. This was why I didn’t do relationships. This shit was confusing, and I wasn’t even in a relationship. Bryan and Maxim were wrong. It was that simple. I joined them over at the free weights, relieved that the topic of discussion had shifted to sports. I pushed my talk with Bryan to the back of my mind and focused on the task at hand and enjoying time with my best friends.

  The thing about avoiding your thoughts was that they always came back to bite you in the ass. I managed to make it three days without thinking about Bryan’s words. Now it was a rainy Wednesday night, and no matter how loud I played my music I couldn’t drown out Bryan’s voice. Dove was out, and I didn’t know where. I’d been distracted with work for most of the day, and had lost track of time. When he wasn’t home after the sun had set, I started pondering his whereabouts—and who he could be with. It was stupid, and I knew it. He didn’t have to report his whereabouts to me, nor did I expect him to. I trusted that he wasn’t out fucking someone else, and the rest wasn’t any of my business.

  Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to know. I’d thumbed out no fewer than ten messages asking when he might be home and deleted each one. I was not going to be that clingy, needy guy. Nope. Not today, Satan.

  I tossed my phone onto the couch cushions then continued pacing the living room. I was unusually edgy, and I didn’t like it. This wasn’t the jealousy I felt in the club, nor was it the same as what I’d felt during Dove’s last drag show. Waves of anxiety crashed through me, each one stronger than the last. What started as a niggling “what if” had turned me into a person I didn’t recognize in a matter of hours.

  What if Bryan and Maxim were right? They weren’t, but what if? What if all of this had only been enough because Dove was always here? That was silly. Dove had gone out plenty of times, and it hadn’t been a cause for concern. Yeah, to go to work, see Taylor, or visit his sister. I’d known where he was every other time. No. That couldn’t be it. It was ridiculous to think I’d be so worked up just because I didn’t know where he was. Missing him shouldn’t warrant—

  I missed him. More than anything else I was feeling, I missed Dove. My feet stopped—everything did. I shook my head and forced myself to keep walking. I missed him, so what? That didn’t mean anything—certainly not what Bryan had said.

  A groan rumbled in my throat. I couldn’t pace around the apartment all damn night. A bottle of Jameson on the counter caught my eye, and I strode over and snagged it off the counter. I turned the lights out on my way down the hall, stopping at the
bathroom. A bubble bath. What could be more relaxing? I ran the water nice and hot, and even lit a candle. The flickering tea-light candle provided enough light for me to find the whiskey bottle, which was all I needed.

  I’d left my music on in the living room and was being serenaded by Post Malone’s “Rockstar.” It worked for me.

  A quarter of the bottle later, I thought I heard a noise in the living room. The song faded into another, and I didn’t catch any other sounds during the brief intermission, so I chalked it up to my imagination. Or the alcohol. I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into the tub and pushing my knees higher above the water’s surface.

  My candle had gone out about ten minutes ago when I’d accidentally splashed it refreshing the tub with more hot water. I felt around the floor in the dark for the bottle, freezing when the light suddenly lit up the small room. My eyes shot up in time to see Dove jump, clearly startled.

  “What the fuck are you doing sitting there in the dark?” he barked out.

  I nodded toward the tea-light on the edge of the tub. “My candle got wet.”

  “You—” He stopped himself then growled. “Never mind.” He turned to leave, and I felt another pang of anxiety rock me.

  “Wait!” Dove froze. “Come over here. Please.”

  Dove sighed then did as asked, standing over me. “What do you want?”

  You to stay with me. “You to get naked and get in this tub with me.” Dove crossed his arms and looked away, though he hadn’t left, so I figured I still had a chance. “I dare you to.”

  He snorted a laugh. “You think a childish dare is going to get me in the bath with you? You must be off your nut.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. “Or half-cut.”

  “Please, you already know I’m cut—no halves about it,” I said with a wide smile.

  He quirked a copper brow at me. My dick seemed to like it. “Cock jokes are very unbecoming.”