by Jane Davitt
Gary’s voice was subdued, devoid of its usual snap, crackle, and pop.
“You don’t need to.” Abe touched Gary’s arm, relieved when he didn’t pull away. Ms. Daniels cleared her throat, but Abe ignored her. “We can walk away. Start over together. You gave him plenty when he was alive, and from what you tell me—and don’t get mad again, please—all he did was take. He took your wages, your independence, and your self-respect—”
Ms. Daniels broke in wearily. “Can you save this for when I don’t have to listen to it? You’re putting me off the lunch I won’t get to eat if we don’t move this along.”
“Get a sandwich,” Abe snapped.
“A sandwich?” She sounded as horrified as a vegan offered steak, rare and bloody. “No.” She turned to face Gary. “Well?”
“I said I’d do it.” Gary leaned over the desk and snatched the bag out of the lawyer’s hands. “This isn’t staying with you, though. Abe’s holding it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll want him to prove he’s holding it, not you.”
“Not a problem. Abe? Catch.”
Abe snagged the bag from the air when it flew at him. It was light for something Gary would go back into a burning building to retrieve; the velvet bag was soft against his fingers.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Giving it to you?” Gary raised his eyebrows. “I’m pissed, yeah, but I’m not stupid. I know I’ll forgive you, and I trust you, Abe. With everything. And if you mean the bet, well, I trusted Peter too. He trained me that way.” Gary gave Ms. Daniels a mocking smile. “Not shocking you at all, am I? You knew what he liked.”
“More than you’d want me to know.”
“I bet.” Gary stared at her, but a moment later his attention snapped back to Abe. “If you did what Peter told you to, to the fucking letter, you got rewarded. Always. I trusted him to deliver. There’s no payoff here, which is weird.” He frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, Abe saw Ms. Daniels go still. “I guess he thinks it’ll be closure. Yeah. I can see that.” Gary shrugged as if he was shaking off a dream and smiled at Abe, a bright, sunrise smile. “Hotel, babe. You and me, and tonight we’ll get dressed up and hit the floor.”
“Thank God,” Ms. Daniels said. “You’re booked in at the Bellagio. Cypress Suite, because there was only supposed to be you, so Peter thought you could cope with one bed.”
Abe might not have seen or done much, but he’d heard of the Bellagio. A suite there sounded several steps up from the motel they’d slept in the night before. “And who pays for that?” He knew he was being rude but didn’t care much. Before she could get any ideas, he picked up his credit card and returned it to his wallet.
“It’s all covered by the estate,” Ms. Daniels reassured him, “as are any expenses you might incur, such as food and suitable clothing for tonight. I’ve got a prepaid credit card you can use. Don’t abuse it, and don’t go over the ten-thousand-dollar limit, or you’ll be paying for it.”
“They have dress codes here?” He hadn’t packed anything that would qualify as “suitable” in Ms. Daniels’s eyes. He broke out in a sweat thinking about walking into somewhere and finding himself surrounded by men all decked out in bespoke suits, like Gary’s.
“You’ll be fine.” Gary’s voice was chilly, but the ice was for the lawyer, not Abe. “So you’re taking the real money from me with one hand and giving me a piece of plastic with the other?”
“A piece of plastic your friend gets to hold,” she corrected him. “I’m glad you brought him along. It saves me tagging along with you. Now, I’ve got some forms for you to sign . . .”
They emerged into the sunlight twenty minutes later, with Abe feeling dazed, the credit card he’d signed for tucked away next to his.
“You’re a hyperventilated breath away from passing out on me. Don’t.”
“I’m fine.” Abe sidestepped out of the way of an elderly woman dressed in pink furs and diamonds, clutching two small dogs. She resembled a piece of chewed bubble gum covered in fluff, but he inclined his head politely when she smiled at him. “I could eat.”
“Sky’s the limit,” Gary pointed out sourly. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m literally penniless.” He nudged Abe with his elbow. “You’ve got it safe?”
Abe knew Gary wasn’t talking about the credit card. “Yeah.”
“I wish I could hold it. Give it back to you when we get to the casino.”
“I signed a big, important document swearing it wouldn’t leave my possession.”
“So?”
Abe sighed. “Let’s get checked in and order room service.”
“I know some great places to eat.”
“Room service,” Abe said firmly.
“Why?”
“Rooms have beds. Restaurants don’t.”
“Good point.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, gentlemen?”
There was nothing but polite inquiry in the porter’s voice, but Gary wondered if the bland expression would flicker if he asked for a hooker and some drugs. Probably not if he backed it up with cash.
“I need a suit dry-cleaned for tonight. Make that three suits. Is there somewhere nearby?”
“We can handle that, sir.” The porter seemed offended by the simplicity of the request, but Gary was too exhausted and wound up to care. He wanted to take a nap, but he couldn’t see it happening when he was this jittery. “If you give them to me, I’ll have them back in two hours.”
Abe was over by the window, unashamedly gawking at the view, but pretending not to be impressed by the lavish suite with its own entrance foyer and two bathrooms. Gary looked forward to what Abe would do and say when the porter left and his pent-up enthusiasm exploded. Even the discovery of a complimentary fruit basket and champagne on ice had left Abe wide-eyed, but Gary had long since lost his sense of awe over freebies that were buried inside the bill. Bottom line, it was a hotel room. Fancy, yes. Big, definitely. But he’d been in bigger and fancier. Discovering it had been reserved for a two-week period to allow him to make his way from Seattle to Vegas and find it available no matter when he arrived was impressive. The hotel wouldn’t have been happy to have a room tied up. Sure, they’d get the rental, but with no one occupying it, they’d lost out on the extras. Maybe Peter had instructed his lawyer to sweeten the deal or something.
He shrugged. Not his problem. The room was theirs for two nights, and that was all that mattered.
He handed over all his suits—might as well get the creases dealt with on Peter’s dime—and borrowed some cash from Abe to tip the porter with carefully calculated generosity. He’d find some way to pay Abe back. There was no reason this jaunt should cost Abe a penny.
The moment Abe had slapped his credit card down, indignant on Gary’s behalf, had been a revelation, one that sliced through the sticky mess of resentment and panic strangling him. Abe loved him. Not a sentimental, misty-eyed affection rooted in the past, and not a confusion of simple lust for something deeper and more complex, but love. Abe had told him, but he hadn’t accepted it as being true, only wishful thinking on both their parts.
He wasn’t sure why the gesture made everything slip and click into place, but it had, and he’d said thank you the best way he knew how: by trusting Abe to hold on to his lucky quarter.
The best way he knew how in public, anyway.
The porter left and the expensive silence settled down, until Abe broke it with a long whistle. “This is not a dive.”
“No,” Gary agreed. “It’s okay.”
“Stop being so fucking blasé, Fox. It’s a nice room—suite—and you know it.”
Gary saw it through Abe’s eyes and compared it to where they’d spent the previous night. “It’s pretty nice.” The bed was bigger than the motel bathroom. He could’ve fitted the entire motel room into the sitting area of the open-plan suite twice over. “So, do you want to watch TV and drink that champagne while you think about food, or do you want to order
something and let me see if I can blow you before it gets here?”
Abe took a strawberry from the fruit basket and twirled it by its stem. “I’m hungry. I might pass out on you halfway through. You’d better give me something to eat instead.” He tossed the strawberry back into the basket. “Maybe you’d better let me blow you.”
There would never be a time when Gary turned down a blowjob from Abe, but if it ever happened, it wouldn’t be when Abe, for all his outward calm, was freaking out. The fight, the lawyer, this room, Vegas itself . . . Abe was so far away from his comfort zone that it was a dot on the horizon. He needed something to do that made sense, something that gave him a reason to get on his knees, and Gary was happy to give it to him.
“I don’t see why we can’t do that.” Gary was hard from the offer, and one glance at Abe told him they wouldn’t be taking time out to order anything.
He walked over to the bed, already fumbling with his belt, but Abe stayed where he was.
“Not there.” Abe nodded at the windows facing the bed, huge panes of floor-to-ceiling glass showcasing the fountains far below and the city, spread out and waiting for night to glitter brightly. “Over there. Think the glass would hold you if you leaned on it?”
Intrigued, Gary walked over to the windows. “Probably. What did you have in mind?”
“This.” Gary let Abe move him so his hands were resting against the glass, his body angled away, meaning little of his weight was taken by the window. It left enough room for Abe to kneel between Gary and the glass, his back to the city.
Fully dressed, with Abe’s head hiding anything Gary exposed, they wouldn’t—quite—be putting on a show, not this high up, but a sizzle of lust flashed through him.
“This is so . . .”
“Yeah.” Abe’s voice deepened, suffused with a waiting expectancy that told Gary control had been handed over to him now that Abe had set the stage. It was as if a switch had been flicked inside Abe’s head, one linked to his cock, because it sure as hell never got tripped outside of sex. Abe was settling into a headspace that, whether he liked the label or not, was on the submissive side.
They’d find out how far they wanted to take this in time. Gary didn’t need labels the way Peter had. He wasn’t trying to make up for lost time. Abe wasn’t acting as the proxy for every sultry brat Peter had never seduced in a bathhouse, and every eager sub he’d never banged in the sordid stall of a restroom at a leather bar. Abe was Abe, just the way he’d always been. And Gary was Gary, which was slowly starting to feel natural again.
He kept his hands where they were, the glass warming against his palms. They would leave some interesting smears by the time this was over.
“Do what you need to get my dick out, but leave my belt fastened. Nothing else.”
Abe’s breath hitched, but he nodded and went to work, his hands deft and unhurried when he eased out Gary’s cock. Gary looked down. In the tight space, with Abe kneeling back on his heels, the tip of his dick was level with Abe’s mouth, and Abe wanted it . . . oh, yeah, he did. Abe wet his lips, leaving them glistening for a moment, but he didn’t extend his tongue to steal a taste.
Abe rested his hands on his thighs, his fingers flexing; they were the only outlet for his frustration, because there was nothing else he could move without touching Gary or striking the glass. Gary watched the long fingers straighten and curl, then took that outlet away.
“I don’t have the use of my hands, so I don’t see why you should. Behind you, crossed at the wrist. Yeah, like that. Looks hot when your chest’s pushed out like you want me to notice it. Do you? Want me to play with your nipples? Pinch them? Bite them? Is that what you’re thinking right now? Do you wish your shirt was off so I could see how hard they are?”
Abe tilted his head back a bare inch so he could stare up at Gary, his face flushed, his eyes already hazy.
Time to apply some pressure.
“I asked you a question, Abe.” His tone was conversational; only the softness made his words sound intimate. “If you don’t use your mouth to answer, you won’t get to use it to do anything else.”
It was the definition of an empty threat. His cock was bone-dry, hot and throbbing. He needed Abe’s mouth on it, the liquid-soft stroke of his tongue, the slow, powerful tugs when Abe hollowed his cheeks and drew him deeper. There was a knowing glint in Abe’s eyes that said he realized it too, but he answered anyway.
“I’m not thinking about anything right now but how much I want your dick in my mouth, Fox.”
The amused glint blew out, extinguished by yearning. Gary knew how Abe felt, and he took a deep satisfaction in that knowledge. He didn’t want Abe to have secrets. He wanted Abe as transparent as the glass behind him.
“I’m thinking about doing a lot to you, Abe, but it can wait. You said you were hungry.” He moved his hips, a lazy roll that drew the head of his cock across Abe’s face, grazing Abe’s lips and leaving pre-cum smeared across his cheek. “Oops. Missed.”
“Do you want me to beg?” It was a genuine question, no hint of sarcasm evident. “I can do that, Fox. I can beg for you to fuck my mouth or let me lick you until you come on my face.” Abe closed his eyes. “Jesus, I’d let you do anything. When we’re not doing this, I’ll pretend that’s not true, I might even believe it, but right now I’ll admit it. You could feed me your cum off your hand and I’d let you.”
“Oh, God.” Gary couldn’t keep still. He stroked Abe’s hair, needing to touch him. “Where is all this coming from, Abe?” He’d told himself he didn’t have to ask questions, but he wanted to bridge the gap between the Abe he’d grown up with and the man kneeling in front of him, and for that he needed Abe’s help.
Abe tilted his head enough to rub against Gary’s hand. “I don’t know. It’s me, the way I am. Is that a problem?”
“You know it’s not.”
“I almost lost you today.” Abe’s voice shook. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “With a few fucking words, I nearly drove you away. Again.”
Gary hissed. “That won’t happen. It won’t. I won’t let it.” He heard the rising note of desperation and gave in to impulse, dropping to his knees. “I want—”
“Anything. Anything, Fox.”
“Kiss me?”
Abe widened his eyes in surprise. He smiled wryly. “With or without hands?”
Gary made a garbled sound that wasn’t a word and grabbed him, mouth to mouth, the kiss clumsy, jarring, right. Abe gave him a strong, possessive hug, and the kiss shifted to something better: a slow dance, the rich, familiar taste of Abe addictive, arousing. Gary moaned, whimpering into Abe’s mouth, soft, hungry sounds, and he wasn’t the only one making them. The scene Abe had set up had been erotic and Gary wanted to do it again sometime, but right now this was better: Abe kissing him, clutching his arms, dragging him closer.
The only improvement he could think of was if they were naked, but naked took too long.
“Fox—”
Gary stopped marking Abe’s neck with a kiss and blinked at him. “Mmm?”
Abe reached down and palmed his trapped erection. “Getting tight in here.”
“Get it out. Show me.”
Abe’s dick was darkly red, the veins on it standing out, the head flaring from the shaft, jutting up, slick-tipped.
“I want this in me one day soon.” Gary ran both hands over it, as greedy to touch as he had been to taste Abe’s mouth. “I could tie you to the bed and sink down on it, slow as molasses dripping off a spoon, until you begged me to take you deeper, and my thighs were on fire.”
Abe inhaled, his face flushing to match his dick. “Yeah,” he said thickly, his gaze going from Gary’s face to the hands working his dick. “I’d like that.”
“Touch me?” Gary couldn’t make it an order. Abe wasn’t the only one ready to beg.
“What with?” Abe licked his lips, making it pretty fucking plain where his preference lay.
Gary grinned, so turned on that his skin was
hot and tight. “Yeah. Do it. Right here, but don’t ask me to stand again. That was hot, but my legs don’t work right now.”
He lay back on the thick, soft carpet, propping himself up on his elbows. Abe shifted around, sprawling between his legs, and ducked his head. He didn’t tease or take it by stages, but took as much of Gary’s cock into his mouth as he could. Gary had thought Abe’s mouth would quench the heat, but he was wrong. It was like sticking his finger into an electrical socket; his body jerked as pleasure intense enough to tilt into pain shocked his system.
Abe sucked on him hard, once, twice, then drew back and ran the flat of his tongue over the head of Gary’s cock. It was the simplest of touches, but it undid the knot of tension and confusion in Gary’s gut, dissolving it when his climax rushed over him, spunk jetting out in long pulses for Abe to swallow. For an endless moment, Gary lost control of his body. It stiffened, jerked in a spasm, every muscle locking. Then it was his again, released from bondage.
He lay on his back, panting, before turning around to get his hands on Abe, who had pillowed his head on Gary’s thigh.
“I came.” Abe didn’t raise his head to meet Gary’s gaze. “All over the carpet and your pants. I didn’t touch myself.”
Gary didn’t care. He curled closer and kissed Abe’s forehead. “Love you.”
“Yeah. Love you too, Fox.”
Life had gotten simpler somehow.
“Here are your chips.” Ms. Daniels handed over a tray to Gary. Ten thousand dollars didn’t look like much when they were represented by round pieces of plastic. Abe wasn’t impressed, and the casino was plain tacky. Tacky on a big scale, sure, but still. Tacky.
They’d driven away from the Bellagio to this place, the Top Hat and Tails Casino, and at first he wasn’t sure why. Wouldn’t any roulette table do? Apparently not. It had to be the table Peter had won big at during his first visit to Las Vegas. The casino might still be there, but Abe was willing to bet everything in his pockets, apart from Gary’s quarter, that it wasn’t the same table. Symbolic table, possibly.
