Set Ablaze

by KC Burn

  He chanced a glance at Kevin, and he couldn’t quite place the expression on his face. Pity, perhaps.

  Pity. Hayden was indeed pitiful and pathetic, but if the universe hadn’t given up on him, this fucking game wasn’t going to go into overtime.

  BACK IN the refuge of his room, Jez grabbed his laptop and curled up beside his puppy. If nothing else, meeting Hayden’s throwback dude bros gave him the kick in the pants he needed. Two hours later, he’d snuck Fang out the front door for a pee and he had a dozen appointments over the upcoming week to look at apartments. Living with Hayden had been a bit of a dream. He’d felt safe here, despite his initial reservations, but that sense of haven was gone. Knowing he could return any time and find Jordan or Vic in the house, with no warning at all? Nope. Unacceptable. With any luck, he’d have a lease signed before filming started, and he could leave Hayden and The stupid Kiss in his rearview.

  He was done. Hayden had a different kind of damage than Jayson, but being with Hayden would mean hiding himself in much the same way he’d had to with Jayson, and that wasn’t going to happen. He’d fought so hard to become the man he wanted to be, and he needed to be true to that.

  HAYDEN WASHED his hair again, stalling. He had to be at work in three hours, and if he’d slept more than three minutes all night, he’d be surprised. But his mind was no longer tangled with unexpected emotions and new perspectives. He couldn’t stop thinking about that look on Jez’s face. Betrayal, disappointment, and hurt. Until he’d had to sit through that excruciating half hour with Jez reacting to each and every slur—gay or not—that came out of Vic’s and Jordan’s mouths, he hadn’t been aware of how much he’d let slide. Miguel had never spoken up either, not last night nor any night before—and he’d known all along he had a gay brother. Hayden was only looking out for himself, and if he didn’t let it bother him, it didn’t hurt anyone. Not really. Or so he’d believed.

  But it had hurt Jez. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make it up to Jez, who’d been up already to take the dog out. The stairs in his house were better than GPS.

  Unfortunately, Hayden didn’t deal with guilt well. It had been the tool his parents had used to try and get him to deny he was gay. It had been how his parents had tried to get him to give up the inheritance his gran had left him after his parents had more or less disowned him. This time the guilt was of his own making, not some external force, but that only made it more uncomfortable.

  Hayden sighed and rinsed off. No sense procrastinating further, and it was the height of hypocrisy to take an extra-long shower after telling Jez they should conserve water. As soon as he was ready for work, he’d go down and apologize. That way he could make a break for it if things got uncomfortable. He had no idea what sort of mood he’d find Jez in.

  He’d never dried himself off so thoroughly, or brushed his teeth with such care, or chosen his clothing so attentively. Eventually, though, he could procrastinate no longer. Not unless he wanted to sit on his bed and stare at the wall for another couple of hours.

  As he headed downstairs, the music from the sunroom became more audible. A thumping bass beat vibrated the air, and Hayden recognized the song—vaguely—as something he’d heard on the radio. The volume gave Hayden pause. He didn’t think Jez had ever exercised in the sunroom while he was awake and home. So he either exercised with much quieter music while Hayden was sleeping, or he just didn’t exercise while Hayden was home.

  At the doorway of the sunroom, Hayden opened his mouth to call out to Jez, but no words came out. Jez was stretching. And he was so very flexible. He knelt in the center of the room, back arched backward, hands flat on the floor behind his feet. Hayden didn’t even know the human body could do that. A faint sheen of sweat made Jez’s skin glisten in the morning light. Hayden licked his lips and breathed heavily. He glanced away and noticed Fang in a sunlit corner, sleeping on his doggie bed.

  He turned his attention back to the main feature in the room. Watching when Jez wasn’t aware felt wrong, and yet Jez had never requested Hayden stay out of the sunroom, and the door wasn’t closed. A work of art as beautiful as Jez should be cherished, and a sense of admiration swept over Hayden like a tidal wave. Part of it was simple appreciation of someone’s skills. But a bigger part was the suppressed desire to lick and bite and savor Jez’s body. He’d allowed himself a tiny taste that one day, and it haunted his dreams. The seal he’d used to bottle up his desire was cracked and useless, and that genie might never go back in the bottle.

  While he’d been busy trying to ignore the lust, he had fallen in like with Jez. The realization Jez might not like him very much right now pained him. He enjoyed coming home to Jez—not just any old warm body, but Jez. How much more fun it was to watch TV and movies with someone else—someone he could discuss plotlines and characters and issues with. Some of the guys at work were like that, but he liked being able to do so immediately rather than waiting until next shift.

  Then Jez unfolded himself and started to dance. Not ballet, not ballroom, not anything Hayden could identify or label, but the moves were angry and beautiful, and in that moment Hayden knew that whether or not Jez had been lying about getting work, he wasn’t lying about the ability to get work.

  Hayden leaned against the doorway and just watched. Until Jez spun around midroutine and caught sight of him. Stiff, intractable angles replaced Jez’s sinuous grace, reminding Hayden of his unpleasant task ahead. Jez strode over to the speakers attached to his phone and turned off the music. Expectant silence filled the room, and nervousness made Hayden scrub his palms against his pants.

  Then Jez turned around, arms crossed, back straight, staring at him without any softness.

  “Hey. I wanted to apologize for the guys last night. They were out of line.”

  Jez curled his lip. “They were out of line? That’s all you have to say?”

  Hayden grimaced. No, his apology wasn’t adequate to make up for what happened. Hayden should have sent everyone home and talked to Jez last night, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to know Jez had any influence on him. Instead, he’d pretended nothing was wrong, even though Miguel couldn’t look him in the eye for the rest of the night and Kevin had been disappointed. Even though his mind had been a cesspool of painful memories. Marco had been his customary taciturn self, but with an air of expectation. Like he’d been waiting for a particular response from Hayden and it never came.

  Hayden opened his mouth, but Jez held up a hand, palm out. “Even before we get to their behavior and how badly it reflects on you, let’s first talk about common courtesy.”

  Hayden blinked. This was gearing up to be a royal ballbusting, but he wasn’t sure it was fair to lump all of his sins into this discussion. “What are you talking about?”

  “I realize I’m just crashing temporarily, and I appreciate you opening your home to me.” That made Hayden suck in a breath. Sure, this was supposed to be temporary, but Hayden had avoided any thoughts about what it would be like after Jez—and Fang—left.

  Jez wasn’t finished, though. “However, did it not occur to you to warn me there would be a group of strangers in the house? Or what about inviting me to join in? Hell, even just responding to my text about groceries would have been nice.”

  Shit. This was a ballbusting he deserved. Because if he’d done that to his gran while she was still alive, and if she’d known how to text, she’d have been annoyed, upset, and disappointed. Maybe not about an invitation—she wouldn’t have cared about joining in—but both he and Miguel were well aware Jez didn’t know anyone in LA. Long-planned Vegas trip aside, this wasn’t even the first time he’d met up with the guys since Jez moved in. Any one of those times, he could have invited Jez along and didn’t. He wasn’t embarrassed of Jez—not really—but somewhere in his subconscious, he’d seen this very outcome.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I will try to do better in the future.”

  Jez blinked at him, stunned. Did he expect Hayden couldn’t take responsibility for hi
s actions? Just because he was rarely in a position where he had to apologize to someone didn’t mean he couldn’t or wouldn’t do it.

  “Uh. Thank you. As for the rest of it….”

  “I’m sure the guys will behave better next time. They know you’re gay now.”

  Jez sputtered. Hayden had never seen anyone do that before, but it made it easy to tell he’d said exactly the wrong thing. He even sort of heard it as the words came out of his mouth. Not fucking this up had been his one job, and he was failing.

  “It shouldn’t matter if I’m gay or not. You’re gay and that didn’t change anything. Miguel was there, but that didn’t stop the racist comments. I’m sure the presence of any women wouldn’t have stopped the casual misogyny. We’re talking common decency here, and yet it was like the trifecta of odious right here in this house. And you claim them as friends? Instead of chucking them out of here or even just saying something—anything—to let them know they were out of line? No, you let them drink beer and eat snacks and watch TV while both you and Miguel just sat there like bumps on a log. I mean, you do realize those two have no respect for you, right? I’m not sure you have any respect for yourself, and Miguel, well, he apparently has no respect for either of us.” The venom in Jez’s words struck Hayden like acid rain.

  And he sort of understood where Jez was coming from, but these were his friends. Had been for years. Jordan had had his back at work, saved his butt a couple of times. Last night had ripped away the illusion that everything was okay, but didn’t Jez realize they were talking about the only people in his life? He’d never been able to get any kind of closure or apology from his parents, as they’d died in a car crash shortly after his grandmother had died, not that he’d ever expected them to change their stance. But if he did anything drastic, he’d have nothing left, and he didn’t know if he was strong enough to start over a second time.

  “Of course they respect me. I do a great job, and we’ve been friends since I joined B crew.” It sounded like bullshit, but it still came pouring out of his mouth. A part of him felt disloyal just questioning the status quo, but that part was drowning under the weight of his new awareness.

  “They may respect the work you do, but they don’t respect you—or any other gay man or woman or nonwhite for that matter—as a person. And if they don’t respect you as a person, then they are not your friends, no matter what they tell you. I sat there for thirty interminable minutes, and I saw that clear as day. Kevin saw it. Why don’t you?”

  Hayden shrugged, guilt adding more lashes to Jez’s words, making his skin feel too tight for his body. “It’s just a few words. It’s nothing. It doesn’t bother me.” He’d never allowed it to bother him.

  “Doesn’t it? I’m not even sure why you came out. You’re practically in the closet anyway, as far as I can see. Tell me something. Have you seen those guys with women at all? Wives, girlfriends, even just dates or women they’re trying to pick up.”

  “Sure.”

  “They maybe kiss or hug or touch them. Hold hands, maybe?”

  Hayden nodded. “Yes. That’s normal.”

  “Uh-huh. They ever seen you with a man like that?”

  Hayden sucked in a breath. “No, of course not.”

  “No, of course not.” Jez’s tone was purely mocking. “Gee, I wonder why. And you told me you’d never had a boyfriend. Could it be that your ‘friends’ would be giant assholes about it? Could it be you know you’ll never find someone willing to put up with that level of obnoxiousness, which will only get more vicious if you’re in their face with the scary gayness?”

  “I just haven’t found the right guy yet.” Certainly no one who attracted him like Jez, or whom he liked as much as Jez, but picturing them as a couple, holding hands or being affectionate with each other, while Jordan and Vic looked on? That picture just wouldn’t come into focus. He didn’t even know why he was arguing. He’d worried about this same thing, but vague worries that he never voiced weren’t as real as Jez’s sharp tone. He’d convinced himself there wasn’t anyone out there for him. How much of that notion had been just another form of denial?

  “I call bullshit. Can’t you see you’re the token ‘see, I have a gay friend so I can’t be a homophobe’ gay? I hope you’re happy with your right hand and your echoing, sterile house. I hope friendship with those prime examples of dickus maximus keeps you warm at night, because they will chase away any chance at a committed relationship. And fine, not everyone wants that. But I think you do, and even if those guys themselves don’t chase away eligible men, your acceptance of their slurs, like you’re deserving of them, will. Because if you think you’re worthless, you must think the rest of us are too.”

  Tears were rolling down Jez’s face as he finished those last words, and he angrily swiped them away. Seeing Jez’s pain hurt Hayden more than anything. Maybe he’d avoided emotional men because he’d been somehow stunted by… years of accepting Jordan and Vic’s words. Or maybe his parents had made him believe he wasn’t worth any more than casual contempt. Had he truly been stifling himself so he rocked the boat as little as possible?

  Pain sliced through his middle, almost making him double over. Those thousand cuts had been numb until Jez woke him up, and now he felt them in a single cumulative stroke that threatened to break him.

  Shaking, Hayden stepped forward and pulled Jez close, hugging him. He wasn’t sure Jez was going to allow it, but after a moment, Jez wrapped his arm around Hayden’s waist and sniffled into his shoulder. The hug wasn’t only for Jez, and if not for the admirably strong man in his arms, Hayden might have collapsed to the floor.

  “Whatever I’ve put up with from the guys… please believe me, I don’t think you’re worthless. I don’t think I’m worthless, but I’m willing to consider the fact that I need to take stock of what’s going on in my life. Assess things.” If, as he’d started to suspect, he’d been bleeding for years, he’d be healing the trauma for a long time.

  Jez didn’t respond, but neither did he let go. Hayden wasn’t ready to stand on his own. He dropped a light kiss on Jez’s head. “I am so sorry. I hadn’t even realized.” His voice broke and he drew in a shuddery breath.

  Jez stiffened in his arms but didn’t push away to speak. “You should be sorry that you’ve been subjected to it. You should be sorry Miguel never spoke up for you. Or me. Does he… does he ever talk like them?” Even muffled by Hayden’s shirt, Jez’s fear was obvious, allowing Hayden to gain a precarious hold on his emotions.

  “No. God, no.” Maybe Hayden wasn’t so irredeemable, because he could see how painful it would be—for him and for Jez—if Miguel talked like Jordan and Vic. “He doesn’t say anything, and I’ve never needed him or anyone to stick up for me in my life, so I never expected him to do so in this situation. It would have called more attention to my orientation.”

  “And?”

  Hayden sighed. “And if that caused problems, then they weren’t my friends in the first place.” As terrifying as it was to contemplate.

  Jez squeezed him tight. Hayden wasn’t ready for any big moves yet, but his eyes were open now. He’d watch and assess, but not for long. And he wasn’t going to have them over here again—even if his place was where they usually watched major sporting events—until he figured out where he stood with them, and where they stood with him. He might lose Jordan and Vic over this, but maybe it wouldn’t be a loss so much as cutting out deadweight. He had to hope it got better.

  For now, his only priority was making sure Jez didn’t hate him. He rubbed Jez’s back soothingly and waited until Jez relaxed in his arms.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered.

  Jez tilted his head back, big brown eyes still shiny with unshed tears. Hayden’s eyes burned in response. “I believe you,” Jez whispered back.

  Jez was warm from his workout, but he still smelled fantastic. Hayden didn’t know who moved first, but he should have realized touching each other would spark their explosive chemistry.
One moment they were staring into each other’s eyes. The next they were kissing. This time there was no gentle lead-up. Just a frantic, hungry clash of lips and tongues and teeth. Hayden clutched at Jez, afraid that if he let go, Jez would change his mind. Hayden would stop immediately if Jez said anything, but oh God, he didn’t want to. His dick had been primed for Jez the second he laid eyes on him, and it was already hard and aching, desperate for Jez’s touch.

  This time, though, Jez sought out skin as he burrowed his hands underneath Hayden’s shirt, then flexed his hips, seeking friction for a cock that felt as rebar-hard as Hayden’s.

  Fuck. Hayden wanted to see Jez wild and untamed. Lusty and loud. He licked down the side of Jez’s neck, savoring the salty sting of male sweat. Then he nibbled at the spot Jez seemed to favor. Jez let out a breathy moan, sending an electric shiver down Hayden’s spine. God. If just kissing and a little bit of dry humping was this good, he was going to lose his fucking mind once they were both naked. The only real issue was that with their height difference, their cocks didn’t line up well. But once he got Jez on his back, he’d be able to make things work.

  Naked. As soon as he thought it, he started pulling at Jez’s stretch cotton workout gear. “I want to see you,” Hayden huffed into Jez’s neck. “I want you naked.”

  The plain speaking made Jez shiver but didn’t break the spell of their combined heat. Hayden wasn’t sure there was any going back from this, but he didn’t care. He was going to glory in the ride.

  “You too.” Jez tugged at his shirt.

  He hadn’t ever wanted someone this much in his life. Within seconds they were both shirtless, Jez’s glorious chest pressed tight against his, and their hips rutted together. Hayden slid his hands up Jez’s torso, giving Jez goose bumps as he went. Then he smoothed his palms inward, the light dusting of armpit hair tickling the edges of his index fingers while tiny flat nipples peaked under the pressure of his thumbs.