Golden Dancer

by Tara Lain

  Daniel opened a drawer, then went quietly back into the bathroom. Again the light came on. Hmm. Maybe he was just trying not to wake Mac and Trelain, but… Mac quietly tossed off the covers, grabbed his cargoes from a chair arm, put them on commando, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then he jumped back in the bed and pulled up the covers. Trelain murmured in his sleep. Mac arched around him without actually touching his back and waited. He was going to “have some ’splainin’ to do” if Daniel came back to bed. The light went off, the door softly opened, and Daniel walked out of the bedroom and into the entry hall. Mac only caught a glimpse, but he seemed to have on the same suit he’d worn last night. So if this was a business meeting, why all the secrecy?

  He heard the front door to the suite close. Decision time. Deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? Oh, hell. He backed out of bed, pulled on his sneakers, grabbed his backpack, and with a quick check on Trelain, ran out of the suite. Nobody in the hall. There were only four apartments on this floor, so he wasn’t likely to run into anyone. He hurried toward the elevators until he got around the corner from the elevator lobby and stopped. A ding sounded, then Daniel’s voice talking to the elevator operator. As soon as he heard the door close, he rounded the corner and headed down the stairs. Twenty-six floors. Thank God he was a runner. He hit the lobby gasping for breath. A quick glance showed Daniel getting into his limousine parked in front. Mac rushed to the door, and as soon as he saw the limo start to move, jumped into a cab at the corner. The cabbie looked up, and Mac grinned. “Man, I’ve always wanted to say this. Follow that car.”

  The limo rounded the park and stopped at another of the small, discreet hotels that edged its perimeter. Mac exited the cab a block away and watched Daniel walk to an outdoor restaurant at the front of the hotel. Maybe it was just a business meeting. Not a very clandestine location for a sinister rendezvous.

  Mac paid the cabbie and took up a location at the edge of the park across from the restaurant. He sat on a bench shielded by bushes. Crap, what a pig he was. Why had he followed Daniel? The man gave him gifts, brought him to New York to see Trelain, even bottomed for him. This was the repayment. But shit, this was his life. He sensed Daniel sneaking around, and his reporter’s blood screamed “story.” He hadn’t thought, just reacted.

  Maybe Daniel didn’t steal the Dancer. Mac wanted to believe that, even though it wrecked his story. Oh God, he wanted to believe it because, if Daniel did do it, that kind of story was food to Mac’s starving writer. It was what he’d dreamed of. The story that drove him every day of his career. The affection for Trelain—yes, and for Daniel—these were new things. The love of a story was lifeblood. Mac didn’t want to be a shit. He didn’t want to spy on a man who had been so good to him. He wanted to leave, go back to the hotel, forget the whole thing. The butt plug screamed in his ass, and he wanted to fulfill its promise. He stared at his hands hanging between his knees and felt that clutching gnaw of adrenaline chewing in his gut. Shit, he had to take one more look.

  He grabbed his phone, set it to camera, and looked in the lens. The man Daniel sat with was elderly. Distinguished, well dressed, and he wore a yarmulke on the back of his gray hair. Interesting. Was there something familiar about him, or did Mac just want there to be? He couldn’t stop his finger from clicking the button, and he pulled off a few shots.

  Disgusted with himself, he slipped from the bench and walked behind the bushes until he turned the corner away from the restaurant and the story that had him by the throat. He could walk back to the Sherry. It was just a few blocks if you went through the park.

  He was compromised. His objectivity was crap, and his judgment questionable. He should tell Daniel there was a guy investigating him for stealing the Golden Dancer. He should tell him. Von Berg was dangerous. Yeah, Mac had to do it. He’d find a moment and tell him. Crap, that meant tell them. How would Trelain feel about Mac doing this story?

  He stopped, and a couple pedestrians had to sidestep to get around him as he stared at the sidewalk. Damnation, this was his life, how he made his living. He’d never ask Trelain to quit dancing or Daniel to stop doing—whatever Daniel did. He took a few steps and stopped again. One guy gave him a dirty look as he passed. Whatever Daniel did. What if Daniel was a thief? Would Mac ask him to quit doing that? Oh crap, this was so complicated. He started walking again, and as he did, he looked at the shots. Who was that guy with Daniel? His fingers entered the address of Kizwalski on his phone. Had to know. Shit. He had to know. Send.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Back at the hotel, Mac crawled between the sheets and snuggled next to his golden man. It’s probably nothing. Just a business meeting. He couldn’t ruin the weekend for Trelain by getting into this whole mess.

  Curled around Trelain’s smooth, muscled ass, he dozed, so he didn’t have to feign waking later as Daniel peeled himself out of his suit.

  He stretched. “Hi. Where ya been?”

  “Business breakfast. Sorry I woke you.”

  “No, I was half-awake anyway.” Yeah, good. Business breakfast made sense. He’d deal with the story issue later, when it was just him and Daniel. He didn’t want to spoil the mood for the very significant roll in the hay his lovers had been promising him since yesterday. Selfish? Hell, yeah.

  Trelain opened those turquoisy blues. “Why must you blighters awaken in the middle of the night?”

  Mac grinned. “Let’s just say I was anxious.” He flipped onto all fours, pointing his butt toward Trelain. Pretty wanton. His cheeks flamed. But hell, he’d been wearing this butt plug most of the weekend, and his curiosity, to say nothing of his damned asshole, itched for satisfaction.

  Daniel laughed as he peeled off his boxer briefs and headed nude toward the bed, cock rising at Mac’s invitation. “Had enough waiting, have we?”

  “Hell, yeah. This plug has probably stretched me so big, you could both get in there.”

  Trelain rolled over. “Our boy is getting delusions of grandeur.” He yawned and stretched, a definite sight to behold. “Give me a second to pee and brush the morning breath away, and I’m all over that ass.”

  Mac’s cock leaped at the idea. Wouldn’t it be too ironic if he was not only gay, but a bottom?

  Daniel slithered onto the bed, his long, hard-muscled body stretching toward Mac. “No worries, love, I’ll just warm up your breakfast, what do you say?”

  Trelain stood in glorious nakedness beside the bed, his cock also rising fast. “Sucking, yes, but I reserve the first fuck.” He smiled. “Unless you want to wrestle me for it?”

  “That would be my pleasure, but no, I’ll let you do the honors. After all, you found our delicious virgin. You should have droit du seigneur.”

  Mac snorted. “That’s me, the blushing virgin who spends her wedding night with the lord of the manor.” Mac looked down at Daniel, who was sliding underneath his doggy position. “Hey, big guy, what the hell—Sheee-it!” One big swallow and his cock was pushing against the back of Daniel’s throat. “Warn a guy when you’re about to set him on fire.”

  The big man didn’t—couldn’t—reply.

  “Oh crap, that feels good.” He pushed down, dipping his hips to get as much cock into mouth as physics allowed. Daniel’s tongue washed his dick warm, then he swallowed. OMG, the suction and pressure of his throat muscles felt like they were sucking his soul out through his cock. He moaned.

  Trelain’s voice cut into the action. “Okay, Daniel, if you make him come, you have to let us both fuck you the rest of the night.”

  Daniel’s mouth pulled off Mac’s cock. “You think that would be a hardship?”

  “Bottom slut!”

  Mac wriggled. “Get on with it, you two.”

  Daniel slid out from under a now harder-than-stone cock, and strong hands grasped Mac’s hips. Trelain’s usual clipped tones became soft and silky. “Okay, baby, it’s time. Any last words as a gay virgin?” Mac felt the plug slide out of his hypersensitive ass.

  “Virgin? Shit, I
’ve fucked you two practically at the same time.”

  Daniel came close to his ear. “Yeah, but you’re not officially gay until you’ve had a man’s cock in your ass.”

  He wriggled. “Is that the fucking gay Boy Scout rules?”

  Daniel laughed. “Yeah. Are you prepared?”

  “Shit, yeah.”

  Trelain whispered in the other ear. “Want me to wear a condom, baby?”

  “Hell no! I want to drip your cum out of my ass for a week; just get it in there.”

  That finally got Trelain moving. Something bigger than the butt plug pressed against his hole. Okay. No fair being nervous when he was dying for it. His breath hitched and not just from passion.

  A soothing hand stroked his butt cheek. Trelain. Another, bigger hand began stroking his cock in long, deep pulls. Oh yeah. Thank you, Daniel. He rocked his hips to get more friction from Daniel’s hand. The intruder at his hole pushed in. Holy crap. Tight. Almost too full, burning.

  But oh that hand felt so good. He kept rocking. It burned like piss, but he loved the idea of Trelain in his ass. That beautiful cock Mac had sucked and jerked off and played with. That did it for him. “Fuck me.” He barely recognized the croak of his own voice. “Fuck me.” Louder.

  “Oh Mac, oh Christ, you feel so good. I dreamed of this every night since I met you.”

  Oh man. Trelain, the golden god of his dreams, was dreaming of him. Gawky, big, never quite at home anywhere so always seeking a new place. Why did he feel so at home with this man? Trelain’s cock rammed all the way in, slapping those golden balls against Mac’s ass. “Sheeeiiit.”

  Daniel chuckled. “May I introduce you to your prostate?”

  Oh yeah, oh yeah. Mac slammed his hips back onto Trelain’s rod, hitting that magic, nerve-shattering, mind-boggling spot with each push. Couldn’t hear or see, just feel. Oh sweet God, it was too much, but he knew he’d never get enough. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Trelain began to gasp. “Oh, Daniel, I’m going to come. Can’t stop, it’s so great.”

  Daniel pulled his hand away from Mac’s cock. Nooo! “Come, darling, and let me in him.”

  Daniel in him? Big, big Daniel? Oh shit, maybe. Maybe yes.

  Trelain started to tremble and buck on top of him. The idea of the man’s cum pouring into his ass almost pushed him over, but Daniel…

  Trelain finally stilled. Soft lips pressed against Mac’s shoulder. “You were so wonderful, darling.”

  He pulled out, leaving Mac’s hole way too empty. Trelain grasped Mac’s longing cock. Daniel leaned over his back. “Don’t worry, baby. Trelain’s lubed you up good for me. Shouldn’t hurt at all.”

  Oh, jeez. Stretching, squeezing, a little burning, but not too much. Just good, so good, that big, long cock in his ass, pushing deeper and deeper. Was this how they felt when he was in them with his monster dick? Suddenly, he felt kind of proud of that big appendage, because, shit, this felt all kinds of good.

  Daniel started grunting and pushing into Mac’s ass like he was fucking a veteran bottom. Mac took it all and gave back, slamming his lover for more. He planted his face against the sheets to get better leverage. Fuck. Fuck.

  Trelain laughed. “Bloody hell, look at you two go. Like two great titans thinking they’ll fight but then deciding they’d rather fuck. God’s breath, you’re sexy.” The dancer’s pumping hand moved faster. Daniel’s breath sounded like a freight train over his shoulder, and Trelain whimpered every time Daniel’s big cock sank deep into that hole. Mac lost track of how long they’d been fucking. In, out, in, out. Crap, crap. So good. Oh God, oh God… Heat, light, and molten cum exploded from him in a torrent. Everything went black, then he heard Daniel’s cries as the man’s hips pounded those last few times, and Mac knew he felt hot liquid fill his ass.

  Mac fell forward onto the bed with Daniel on his back. Trelain collapsed beside him, wiping sticky cum from his hand with the corner of the bed sheet. They all lay gasping.

  Trelain rolled onto his back, and Mac could see a happy-looking cock hiding in its cave. “Hey, blokes, we’ve got a problem. Now we’re all going to want to bottom.”

  Daniel kissed Mac’s back softly. “That’s okay. I can afford to hire someone to fuck us all.”

  Mac got a tingle. Shit, he was the guy who had fucked them both. He sighed and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  After days at the ocean-front estate and a weekend at the most elegant hotel in New York, walking into his homey, messy little cottage in Laguna Canyon registered surreal. Not bad, just not quite familiar. Don’t lose your bearings, asshole. You ain’t all that.

  They had embraced Trelain for as long as even a private jet flight schedule would allow. Jesus, you would have thought they wouldn’t be seeing him for weeks instead of four days when his season ended and he’d fly back to California to be with them. But the guy just felt—what? Essential. Mac ran a hand through his too-long mop. Maybe he should try reciting a little fucking Swinburne if he was going to surrender to purple prose.

  He sorted through a stack of mail, mostly junk. Hell, who sent snail mail anymore? Daniel had wanted Mac to stay at the estate, but that wasn’t happening. He had work to do—yes, he could do it at Daniel’s now that he had a setup worthy of a Nobel Prize winner, but he needed to get his feet on the ground. He had to think, figure out where his place really was. He’d lulled himself into a sexual fantasy for the last week, and now he felt, what? Confused, for sure. Disgusted. He’d like to convince himself that it was just sex and that maybe now everything could get back to normal, but that was ridiculous. First of all, the sex wasn’t normal for him. No, it was mind-boggling, cell exploding, soul satisfying, and that was anything but normal. And he had to face the fact that he enjoyed the men’s company even without the sex. If he’d been straight, he would have wanted them for friends. But he wasn’t straight, and these men were his…lovers.

  But what did that mean for Mac, the journalist? He had commitments, promises. Shit, he wanted the relationship with Trelain and Daniel, but he also wanted a great story, and in this case, he just couldn’t have them both, could he? What if Daniel was a thief? How would Trelain feel? How would Trelain feel if it was Mac who outed Daniel?

  Shit. Mac flopped on the couch. That moment of peace and happiness he’d felt with Trelain and Daniel’s cum hot in his ass had been perfect. Everything else was shit! He took a deep breath, stood, and faced his desk. He imagined a layer of dust collecting on his dreams of success while he was busy pursuing his hormones. Back to work. He hadn’t taken his laptop with him this weekend—a first—and keeping up with everything on his phone was tough. Get busy.

  He opened the laptop, booted up, and waited while it went through its security machinations. The phone rang. That would be Debbie. He reached for the phone. He felt weird. He answered. “Hi, kiddo.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Don’t give me that crap. You just took the first long weekend off that didn’t involve work since I’ve known you. How was it? Were they delicious? Where did you stay? C’mon, Mac, tell me.”

  He shifted the phone. “It did involve work.” Shit, it actually had, even if he kind of wished it hadn’t.

  There was a pause. “What do you mean? You went to see Trelain. Your lover, right?”

  He cringed a little. Shit, still not used to the idea. “Yeah, but I was with Terrebone. That is the story, right?” Jesus, he even sounded defensive in his own ears.

  Another pause. “Mac, you’ve got to be kidding. I don’t know what your feelings are for this man, but I’m pretty damned sure you love Medveyev, and I know that Terrebone is important to him. You’re going to try to ruin the man your lover loves? Seriously?”

  “No, no, I don’t want to ruin him. Hell, I probably couldn’t. He may be perfectly innocent. I hope he is, but everywhere I go, I run into some other clue that says the man did the deed. What the hell am I supposed to do? Ignore it?”

  Her voice sounded
sad. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. I always thought that someday you’d find out who you really were and finally get to be happy. I guess I hadn’t counted on you screwing it up with both hands.”

  “C’mon…”

  “No. Won’t play this one with you, babe. I can get dirty, but not so low I’d fuck a guy to get his story.” Click.

  Well, shit. It wasn’t like that. Okay, it was. Leave it to Debbie to call a spade a spade. That’s exactly how it was, and he couldn’t be mad at his best friend for telling him the truth.

  He slammed on the icon for his e-mail. Kizwalski. Right on cue. He stared at the e-mail. Decision time. He could just delete it and never look. But wouldn’t Kizwalski call him, want to know what he thought of the results? He sighed. Probably not. That’s not how the CIA guy played. No questions. No curiosity. If he opened this e-mail, it was all for him and on him. The guy in the restaurant might just be a business associate like Daniel said. Crap.

  He got up and went to the kitchen, hoping for some iced tea. None was made, but he had a bottle, so he opened it and sipped. Was he fucking Daniel to get the story? Truth hurts, asshole. That’s how it must look to Debbie, and how else could it look? He did care for the man, but he had loved this story before he met him. What if he wrote the story? How much could it hurt Terrebone? Shit, the man was richer than hell and didn’t depend on the goodwill of others for much.

  He walked slowly back toward the computer. Since when did a computer look so much like a snake? It wasn’t the story that would hurt Daniel, it was Mac. Did Daniel care for him? Yeah. Mac could feel it in every touch, kiss, and embrace. Just like he knew he cared for Daniel. But he also loved his job, his career. Fighting a sob, Mac clicked on the e-mail.

  Chaim ben Harrari. That was who the man at breakfast with Daniel had been. The elder of a respected Israeli family. Past ninety years old, the patriarch had figured in one or two stories Mac had written on the Middle East—that was why he’d looked familiar. But what was the connection with Terrebone?