Bad Influence

by K.A. Mitchell

  The expression on his face was hard to read—or maybe Silver was afraid to read it. He opened the fridge—orange juice, cranberry juice, a pitcher of iced tea. After nudging the door shut, he filled his glass from the tap and took a couple swallows before looking over at Zeb. He’d turned back to the table, and he could have been examining the workbook, but Silver didn’t think it held Zeb’s attention. There was something about the way he sat, spine straight, shoulder blades drawn together. Like he was waiting for something.

  Silver hadn’t waited at all the first go-round. The moment they’d been alone in Zeb’s apartment, sixteen-year-old Silver’s hand was on Zeb’s shoulder, pulling him toward that first kiss.

  This wariness was all on Silver. He was the one who’d made it about studying. Said he didn’t know what he wanted. Because he was afraid of rejection. He’d offered sex a hundred times for money, but asking for this left him paralyzed, staring at Zeb’s tense back.

  If he said no, how could it be worse than that night when Silver had begged for Zeb’s help, begged him to run away, leave all the bigots behind and be together? Silver had survived that. So he could risk this.

  He put his hands on Zeb’s shoulders, slid them over the surface of his dress shirt, warm, smooth fabric over hard, tight skin. Silver pushed his hands lower, fingertips leading as his palms settled over Zeb’s pecs, feeling the nipples swell. Pressing against Zeb’s back, Silver rested his chin on Zeb’s shoulder and listened to his breathing speed up.

  “What question were we on?” Silver used his hands to apply circular pressure to the muscles under his palms.

  Zeb leaned back, head dropping to Silver’s shoulder.

  Silver turned his head so his lips brushed Zeb’s ear. “I missed your answer. Could you repeat it?”

  A shudder went through the body under his palms. Blood pulsed slow and sweet in Silver’s balls, his dick.

  “We only have three questions left. Shouldn’t we get this done?” Zeb murmured, but there was a trace of laughter in his husky voice.

  Silver smiled against the prickle of Zeb’s cheek. “Can’t you think of anything—anyone—else who should get done?” Silver’s hands glided lower, over Zeb’s stomach, until the fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers.

  Zeb’s hands landed over Silver’s, holding him there, leaving them both on that edge. “God, Silver, you’re killing me.”

  Silver froze then took a step back, hands retreating to Zeb’s shoulders. “What did you call me?”

  Zeb turned around. The hurt and confusion on his face smoothed out, a slow smile replacing it. “Silver,” he said, as if he was playing it back in his head.

  Silver tipped his head. Waited.

  Zeb stood and wrapped an arm around Silver’s waist. “I called you Silver. It suits you. And if you’re willing to let go of the past, I am too.”

  With the other hand behind Silver’s neck, Zeb kissed him. Mouth in gentle, careful motion, soothing the still-sore spot.

  Just wet enough to make the glide smooth, tingling. The heat in the three spots where Zeb touched him spread the flush through Silver’s body, sending a welcome surge of blood to his cock.

  Yes. All systems armed and ready to fire. It took all Silver’s self-control not to pump his fist in triumph.

  Zeb’s tongue teased at the corner of Silver’s mouth. He wished he could grab Zeb and kiss him, really kiss him, drive their mouths together until they were sharing every oxygen atom with its eight penny electrons. But though the mark was less swollen today, a rough, deep kiss could split the healing tear.

  Goddamn Thomas Barnett to hell.

  Silver pulled his mouth back but held on to Zeb’s head. There were so many other places Silver could put his lips, his tongue.

  He licked a line along Zeb’s jaw, felt the reaction in the squeeze of Zeb’s arms, the stutter of his breath. Silver wanted, needed to feel more. Grabbing Zeb’s hips, Silver jerked them together. The pressure of Zeb’s cock on Silver’s was better than anything Silver had managed with his hand the past six months put together. It could only get sweeter when he cupped Zeb’s ass to grind them against each other.

  God, had Zeb’s ass always been that hard and muscular? Because even Silver’s hi-def memory hadn’t been doing it justice.

  He got a better grip, stepped closer, and they stumbled into the table.

  The table was good. It was steady. That could work. Right as he was about to try to lift Zeb onto it, Zeb stopped panting in Silver’s ear long enough to mutter, “Bedroom. Ten feet away.”

  Silver let Zeb steer, stumbling backward toward the promised flat surface, which was good news for knees that couldn’t make up their minds between folding from a case of the wobbles or bending to get Silver’s face up close and personal with Zeb’s cock.

  As Zeb pushed, Silver found a bed behind him and started trying to work on the buttons of Zeb’s shirt. Zeb reached for Silver’s. It didn’t work out like of one of those romantic moments in a movie when the camera swung around the couple slowly undressing each other. It was a mess.

  Their arms and fingers kept getting tangled and twisted, and slow wasn’t on the menu. Silver wondered if it was because he was afraid Zeb would change his mind. And maybe Zeb was afraid of the same thing, because after a harsh breath, Zeb leaned back. “How about—?”

  Silver caught one of Zeb’s hands and smiled. “You do you and I do me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I’m gonna watch.” Silver unbuttoned his cuffs and freed himself by yanking the shirt over his head.

  Zeb’s hands had been at his belt, and now they dropped away. “You are not helping.” He laughed.

  Silver stood up and shucked off his slacks, boxer briefs, and socks in one quick motion before sprawling back on the bed.

  “Still not helping.” Zeb’s gaze was hot, lingering on Silver’s chest before dropping lower.

  “Too bad. If you want some of this—” Startled by the sting of a tiny missile on his chest, Silver broke off. Another shirt button flew past.

  Zeb finished tearing off his shirt, buttons pinging the bed and floor. He shoved his pants down and threw himself forward, like one extra step would mean too much more time apart. He landed on the mattress between Silver’s spread legs, mouth dropping kisses on Silver’s chest.

  “I never stopped wanting you. Never. It’s killed me. Every minute of being with you and not touching you.” Zeb’s lips and stubble tingled across Silver’s stomach. “God, I want you.”

  “I’m here.” Silver tried to pull Zeb up higher, see his face, feel the hard skin of his dick rub on Silver’s, know they were both ready for this.

  Zeb resisted, mouth moving lower. “Need this. Need you in my mouth.”

  God yes. The heat and the soft, wet kiss on the base of his dick, the vibration of Zeb’s groan, and the wet tease of his tongue on the shaft.

  The bare shaft of Silver’s dick.

  Shit. “Wait. Condom.” Zeb lifted his head.

  Those eyes, Zeb’s eyes looking up at him, the silky curls of his hair sweeping Silver’s thighs. He wanted to say fuck it and drag Zeb’s head back down but couldn’t.

  “For this?” Zeb’s tongue teased a line up Silver’s groin.

  Things got white and fuzzy for a second. Then the wet lap on his balls made him lean up on his elbows, remembering something really important despite the ache of wanting to forget everything but that mouth.

  “Yeah. Because—” Everything he’d been about to say evaporated in the sudden desert dryness of his mouth.

  How could he have forgotten? Zeb didn’t know.

  Silver’s friends knew. And when Zeb shifted into that category, somehow in Silver’s mind, Zeb knew.

  But that was only Silver lying to himself. More than anything, Zeb didn’t know because Silver hadn’t wanted to have to tell him.

  Until now, there hadn’t been a reason.

  But it wasn’t that easy to say with Zeb’s hands on him, his breath teasing the sk
in of Silver’s dick, even if it had wilted under all the thoughts crowding into his head. His thighs burned where Zeb’s fingers rested.

  “Is everything okay?” Zeb’s eyes were soft with concern.

  This wasn’t something Silver could lie about. “No.” And there wouldn’t ever be an easy way to say it. “I’m HIV positive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  ZEB’S HEAD disappeared.

  Silver pushed himself to sitting and found Zeb hunched over, kneeling on the floor. Silver’s stomach churned in the way that threatened to spew if he opened his mouth, but he couldn’t stand that echoing silence. He leaned to hook his briefs out of his pile of clothes. “Yeah. Okay, then. I’m going to head out.”

  “No.” Zeb snapped it with an anger Silver couldn’t remember hearing from him before. “You’re going to wait.”

  Silver tucked his briefs against his junk and waited.

  Zeb’s voice was less angry but still full of emotion as he said, “I realize I’m not in a position to ask you for anything, but could you please give me a second to digest what you said?”

  “What the hell does that mean? Not in a position to ask? Just ask whatever the fuck you want to ask.” Like there was some big mystery how he got it. As if the only possible response to Silver telling someone he was positive was Who gave it to you?

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Zeb buried his face in his hands. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  Silver took advantage of the freak-out to haul up the briefs and find his slacks. “It’s fine. You don’t want m—to have sex with me now. It’s cool. No need to apologize.”

  Zeb looked up, pushing his hair away from his face. “No? Not even for sending you away that night so that—”

  Silver finished zipping his fly and slapped a hand against his thigh in frustration. “Shit. I thought we were past this.”

  “How do I get past—? I thought you were okay and now—”

  What the fuck was it with people and that vague wave gesture? You couldn’t catch HIV by saying it. And it wasn’t like Silver was likely to forget.

  “I am okay. I’m HIV positive. I don’t have AIDS. I take a pill and have to get my blood checked once a month.”

  Zeb was still on his knees, sunk back on his bare ass, pants around his ankles. It should have been ridiculous. But the bastard managed to pull off looking sexy and annoying at the same time.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

  Silver had had enough. They had been close enough to touch the amazing feeling that was the two of them together, and if it wasn’t going to work this time, he wasn’t going to let Zeb walk because of some lame sense of responsibility.

  Silver reached down and yanked Zeb to his feet. “No, you fucking don’t. You don’t get to take credit for this. You’re not God. You only look like him.”

  Zeb put his hand on Silver’s unbruised cheek. “Jord—Silver.”

  “Shut up.”

  Zeb tried to pull his hand free, but Silver held it there.

  “Shut up and listen,” Silver said. “Why did you go to Haiti?”

  “To help build a school and to teach.”

  “Bull. Shit.”

  Zeb jerked his hand free. “What’s the point of doing this now?”

  Silver’s hand started to reach for Zeb’s face, to hold him so he couldn’t hide behind averted glances and fake smiles. But he wouldn’t force it. If they were going to make this happen, make something honest, it could only be because they both wanted it.

  “You said when I figured out what I wanted, I should tell you.”

  Zeb nodded, lips a thin line.

  “Well, I did. Now I’m trying to figure out if I can have it.”

  Zeb smiled. Not the fake one or the twisted one. But a small one. Like for once he didn’t have the right answer for how to act. Leaning in, he kissed Silver, just long enough to make him remember why this was so damned important.

  “Yeah.” Silver sighed. “Okay. That much we’ve got. But it’s going to take a little more this time around. Hard truths. Why did you go to Haiti?”

  Zeb glanced down. “Because….” He drew the word out, then a long inhale before the rest of the words came out in a rush. “I knew it was wrong. You—God, you were sixteen. The guilt of it.”

  “So with your logic, I’m the reason you got malaria.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “So is you feeling responsible for me being positive.” Silver shrugged. “You knew the risks when you went to a tropical country with no health care.”

  Zeb looked like he was about to argue, so Silver said, “And if I decided to have sex with guys without a condom, I knew the risk. It was my choice, and I sure as fuck am not watching you nail yourself to another cross over it.”

  When Zeb moved toward him, Silver met him. Holding him tight, being held. Silver rested his head on Zeb’s shoulder. “I was so angry. At them. At you. At the whole fucking world. So I did some stupid stuff.”

  This was easier than face-to-face. Easier to hear when Zeb said, “I was mad at you too. Enough to do my own share of stupid. And I’m sorry.”

  Silver lifted his head. “No more sorries. I don’t want then, I want now. I could go to jail. For a year.” No matter how much Gavin’s lawyer cost, that was another hard truth Silver hadn’t been ready for. And now the idea of it made him cold right down to having ice for bone marrow. “And if that’s going to happen, I don’t want to spend the year thinking about what could have been happening if I wasn’t so goddamned pissed off.”

  Zeb laughed, and it wasn’t so cold anymore. Warmth spread out from where Zeb’s hands pressed Silver tight in the hug. “And I thought you were precocious at sixteen.”

  “Yeah, well, it turns out that kind of precocious only gets you so far.” Silver tried to laugh, but it was more than half sigh.

  Zeb held Silver’s face between his hands and kissed him. Lips parted, more pressure and heat and urgency this time. Silver opened his mouth and flicked an invitation with his tongue. They both groaned with the first wet contact, the taste and heat of each other’s mouth.

  It wasn’t only the kiss that was different. Getting turned on was different too. Instead of his dick sending sparks out, this feeling curled out from his belly, waking up his cock, yeah, but rippling up and down his spine and legs and even his arms. Zeb groaned again, a sweet vibration on Silver’s lips, hands sliding down, shoulders, back, until they cupped Silver’s ass.

  A twinge of pain in his lip as Zeb deepened the kiss made Silver pull back. “Can we start over?” Zeb whispered into the space between their mouths.

  “My lip.”

  Zeb released him. “Sorry.”

  “Not that. I’m afraid it’s going to start bleeding again.”

  “Oh.” Then Zeb’s eyes opened wider. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  Zeb’s tongue made a shifting protrusion around lips and cheeks. “I don’t have any cuts in my mouth.” He wrapped his arms around Silver’s waist and smiled. Not the fake smile, but the one that let Silver see Zeb wasn’t completely sure of himself. “I’m ready if you are.”

  Because he didn’t want any misunderstanding, Silver grabbed Zeb’s wrist and brought his hand to where Silver’s dick pulsed, then moved it off before he could enjoy the sensation of a hand not his own there for the first time in months. “Ready, yeah. I want to.” God, he wanted to. Before he forgot how to do it. And to find out if it was as good as he remembered with Zeb. “But I’m going to be all responsible for a minute and say no.”

  Zeb’s smile disappeared for a second before being replaced by a brighter one. “No?”

  “I don’t want it to be because you think you have to prove something.” Silver shrugged.

  “Nice to know what you think of me.” Zeb had kicked out of his pants, so when he dragged Silver’s hand forward, there wasn’t any barrier to the proof of Zeb’s interest. Silver’s fingers barely brushed the satiny skin of Zeb’s shaft before Zeb released him.
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  “Does that feel like I’m only trying to prove something?”

  He bit back the impulse to ask when Zeb wasn’t trying to prove something. “The first thing you said after I told you I was positive was that you needed time to ‘digest’ it. And I think you should.”

  “Do I get a say in this?”

  “Sure.” Silver sat on the bed and scooped his shirt off the floor. “You digest it and then let me know.”

  Zeb pushed him backward onto the mattress, pinning his shoulders flat. His eyes had never looked more intense—except maybe with a dick up his ass. “Don’t you pull this self-righteous crap on me. I invented it.”

  “I think your crown of thorns is safe enough.”

  “Finding out you’re positive was a shock. I admit it.”

  When Zeb paused, time froze with him. The next thing he said was either going to be something Silver could live with or something that would kill any chance of making this work. They were too close to the edge, one way or another. The tension was worse than the ache of straining to come when he’d pushed it back too many times, waiting for the director’s call.

  This pain came from higher up, his ribs shrinking, strangling his lungs, his heart. When Zeb’s gaze softened, Silver knew it was over. Being positive was the final stroke that killed off whatever Zeb had felt for Jordan, those feelings impossible to transfer to Silver. He wanted to slap a hand over Zeb’s mouth, put it off for a few more seconds.

  “Jordan.”

  Yup, bad news.

  Zeb’s lips pressed together, and he made a tiny shake of his head as he corrected himself. “Silver, I could take between now and doomsday to think about it, and it wouldn’t make a difference. I want to be with you. Any way. Every way.”

  Silver played the words back in his head, hoping they burned a permanent loop in his brain.

  The cramp in his chest eased, a deep breath bringing everything back into balance.

  He fought a smile then gave up. “Get off me, then. Gotta get my pants off.”

  Zeb grinned and rolled off. Silver ditched his slacks and briefs, taking a second to hang them and his shirt off the doorknob so they’d be less of a disaster at work.