Now Tony laughed his exasperation. “Don’t you even want to—”
“One. Of two words,” Adam spoke over him, enunciating clearly. “I’m going to count to two, and if you haven’t said yes by then, I’m going to hang up, which will make it an automatic no. One …”
“Yes,” Tony said. “Hell, yes. I’ll be there by ten.” And he was the one who cut the connection.
Leaving Adam alone in the deepening twilight in his kitchen, wondering what the fuck he was doing, playing with this kind of fire.
Tony had a change of clothes and a toothbrush in a backpack that he kept in his locker in the building that headquartered SEAL Team Sixteen.
According to Adam, he wasn’t going to need it, but he grabbed it anyway and was heading down the corridor toward the parking lot and his car when the sound of voices made him slow down.
And then he stopped, altogether, when he heard who it was and what he was saying.
“I know we’re supposed to follow Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” Danny Gillman was saying to someone in the senior chief’s office—probably the senior chief, “but somebody’s got to ask him. I mean, we have a right to know, don’t we?”
Him being Tony. Great. Tony inched closer, the better to hear exactly what they were saying. If the senior chief was involved, it was over and done. His so-called friends had outed him. It wasn’t a huge surprise, since all of them had carefully avoided him since they’d returned from Boston.
Still he was disappointed.
“Nothing’s changed.” Great, Jay Lopez was in there, too. His normally quiet voice was slightly raised in exasperation. “So what if he’s gay, Dan. He’s still the best operator I’ve ever worked with. Hands down, the best. If any of us were putting together a team, who’s the first man we’d pick?”
“Chickie.” That was Mark Jenkins’s voice. He was in there, too.
“The Chick-ster,” Izzy chimed in. “You know I love you, Fishboy, but you’d only be second on my list. Third. Okay, honestly? Sixteenth.”
“All I’m saying,” Gillman pointedly ignored Izzy, “is that someone should ask him. If he’s got some kind of weird crush on one of us—”
“You,” Izzy interrupted him. “Don’t you really mean you? Somehow I don’t see you getting quite this upset at the idea of the V-man wanting to get jiggy with, oh, say, moi.”
“He’s seen me naked,” Gillman complained.
“We’ve all seen you naked,” Izzy said. “Of course, we’re not gay.” He paused. “Or are we? For all you know, I’m secretly a tranny lesbian, who dreams of you every night.”
“An entire busload of Australian nuns saw you naked,” Jenk pointed out. “During that training exercise …? When you trapped that jellyfish in your trunks …?”
“Pee on me! Pee on me!” Izzy pitched his voice slightly higher, in a decent impersonation of Gillman. Jenkins laughed and chimed in with him. “For the love of God, pee on me!”
“It stung me and it hurt,” Gillman said, laughing, too—despite himself. “Besides, they were nurses.”
“They were also nuns,” Jenk pointed out. “And as astonishingly attractive as you think you are, Dan, I’m pretty sure none of them wanted to have sex with you, either. So I think you can relax.”
“It just freaks me out,” Dan said. “I mean, just thinking about it. Thinking about him …”
“I think you’re more freaked out that Chick’s gay and doesn’t want to do you,” Izzy said.
“That’s really not helping,” Jay told Izzy mildly.
“He’s making a lot of noise about it,” Izzy said. “Methinks he doth protest too much.”
“Methinks I’m going to put my foot up your ass, if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Dan fired back at Izzy.
“Wow, that’s pretty homoerotic,” Izzy said. “I mean, as far as threats go …”
“Zanella.” Tony heard Jay’s chair scrape the floor as he stood up. “Stop. Dan, are you seriously saying you want to put Tony into a position where he’ll be forced either to lie or out himself?”
“No,” Dan said, but then added, “I don’t know. I’m just …” He exhaled hard. “Jesus, Lopez, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be defending him. I would be pissed.”
“I am pissed,” Jay said. “But I’m not pissed at Tony. I’m pissed at the stupid system. How was your evening? How’s Callie? How many times did I ask him that? We all did. And he couldn’t answer any of us honestly. Can you imagine not being able to talk about what you did last night, or over the weekend?” He paused. “Does anyone know if he’s got a boyfriend or a partner?”
There was silence again, as they all probably shook their heads.
“Can you imagine?” Jay said again. “For all I know, T’s married, and because he wants to serve our country, he can’t introduce the love of his life to any of us. He can’t even whisper his name. And that’s just wrong.” He paused again. “Have any of you guys spoken to him since we got back from Boston?”
“No,” Jenk said.
“It’s kind of hard to know what to say,” Izzy said.
“Yeah,” Jay agreed. “For me, too. I’ve been getting all inside my head about the Don’t Ask part of the deal. I’m afraid to ask him anything, even what are you doing for lunch? Forget about what are you doing this weekend?”
Tony walked the last few steps down the hall and stood in the open doorway. As he’d come to suspect throughout their conversation, the senior chief wasn’t there. It was just Jay and Dan and Izzy and Jenk, hanging out.
“Hey,” he said, and they all looked up at him in surprise.
“Actually,” he continued. “I’m heading up to Los Angeles. See, there’s someone that I, um, really like. A lot. And they just invited me over and, um, I’m probably going to get my ass kicked. Emotionally, I mean. But I’m still going.”
They were all still staring at him, so he added, “So that’s what I’m doing this weekend. It’s okay if you ask. I can make my answers gender-neutral.”
“As opposed to lying about Callie,” Jay said.
Tony met his gaze. “I apologize for that. You were convinced we were together and … It was the path of least resistance, so I, um, took it.”
“Lopez didn’t ask her out because he thought you were really into her,” Izzy said.
That was a total newsflash, and clearly it was accurate because now Jay was looking down at the floor, shaking his head slightly.
“Ah, shit, man.” Tony felt awful. “I honestly didn’t know.”
“He didn’t want you to know,” Izzy said. “What was he going to say, Hey, T. Guess what? I’m packing a woodie for your girlfriend …”
“He thought you were insane,” Jenk added, “to let her move to … where was it, Miami?”
“Milwaukee,” Jay said.
“Shit,” Tony said again.
“I wasn’t honest with you, either,” Jay said, finally looking up at him. “It’s my fault, too.”
“If you want,” Tony said, even though he knew it was too little, too late, “I can give you her phone number and email—”
But Jay was shaking his head. “Thanks, but no. It’s one thing to work the long-distance angle when it’s forced on you, but another entirely to seek it out.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m already over it,” Jay said. “Same way I got over being disappointed in you for not trusting me with the truth.”
“It wasn’t about trust,” Tony tried to explain. “It’s about responsibility. I couldn’t dump that on you. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I did what I did that night in Boston. I should have been more discreet.”
“You shouldn’t have to lie,” Jay said.
“The world is what it is,” Tony said, hiking his pack farther up on his shoulder. “And I live in it. I gotta go.” He nodded to Jay and Jenk and Izzy, all of whom dared to meet his eyes.
Gillman, however, was still looking down at the floor. Still, he was the one who spoke up. “This … person
you’re meeting in L.A.,” he said, using the same neutral gender that Tony had, and proving once again that he was way smarter than he looked and acted. “If it’s who I think it is … They don’t have a reputation for being … exclusive. You sure you know what you’re doing?”
He finally looked up, and there actually may have been real concern in his eyes. Or maybe Tony just wanted to see it there.
“I have no clue,” Tony admitted, and it felt strange, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked about his personal life with anyone besides the man he was currently dating. “But I gotta, you know. Follow my heart.”
Adam was ready when Tony rang the bell.
He’d deliberately left his apartment I-don’t-give-a-shit messy, even though he’d had plenty of time to empty and load the dishwasher and to throw away the take-out food containers and pizza boxes that cluttered his kitchen counters. He could have moved in slow-motion, and still had time to make his bed and to pick the dirty laundry up off of his bedroom and bathroom floors.
Instead, he’d left the place looking like crap. Instead, he’d sat in front of his big-screen TV and played Grand Theft Auto until even playing the video game Jules’s crazy way could no longer hold his attention. He’d made himself a sandwich with the last of the ham and cheese in his fridge, and he’d eaten standing up. But the bread was stale, and his hunger waned before he’d finished even half of it. So he left it there, right on the counter without a plate, along with the deli wrappers and the mustard.
About a quarter to ten, he’d gotten extra antsy, so he’d added to the shithole-of-an-asshole effect, further dressing the set by opening a bottle of wine and pouring just a splash into two long-stemmed glasses. He carried them both into his bedroom, took a sip from one and drained the other. He set them both on the same bedside table, where they sat—a matched set with a pointed message. He would have opened a condom or two, tossed the rolled rubbers into the kitchen trash so he could leave the empty wrappers behind with the wineglasses, a very loud hey, look what I did last night, but he was running low.
And he was going to need at least two.
Only two, he quickly corrected himself. This was going to be a one-time event, and it was going to be over fast.
Besides, the kid probably wouldn’t even see the wineglasses until after he’d grabbed Adam and thrown him onto the bed and … How had he put it? Fucked his brains out. Jesus.
Adam had had a hard-on for hours now, ever since Tony had rasped those words into his ear. He hadn’t believed he was capable anymore of this kind of anticipation and physical excitement, but he’d also never believed he’d go for so many months living like a freaking monk. And not just living like a monk because he’d stopped having sex, but living like a monk because he’d started spending nearly all of his time thinking long and hard about the how’s and why’s behind his abject failure in getting the one thing—the one person, really—that he’d ever absolutely, truly wanted.
Which was the love and worship of his fellow actor, Robin Chadwick, who was now ecstatically happily married to Adam’s very own ex, FBI agent Jules Cassidy.
But was it really Robin Adam had wanted, or something else?
He was pretty certain it was Robin, but also pretty certain that the reasons he’d wanted the man so badly weren’t even close to being pure. A love unlike any he’d ever felt before was in there, sure, but it was twisted and entwined with the definitely evil darkness that could, at times, consume him.
He’d spent a lot of time thinking about that, too—about how it was that he was able to come up with—so quickly—seemingly reasonable excuses for why he did the assholish things he did.
And yet here he was again. Doing just that. Inviting Tony over.
But there were no two ways about it. It was the best way to get the kid out of his life, both quickly and painlessly. In fact, pain wasn’t going to play a very large part in this. It was going to be mostly pleasure.
And not just for Adam.
Tony wanted this hookup as much as Adam did. In fact, when everything was said and done, it was probably the only thing he wanted from Adam. For all he knew, the kid was a star collector, and Adam would be just another notch on his bedpost, another story to tell his friends.
They’d both get a rush and a release, and that would be that.
And the wineglasses—and their implication that Tony was just one in a long, endless stream of lovers—were only there in case Adam was wrong, in case Tony was telling the truth instead of just bullshitting him when he’d said I’m looking for more.
If that was the truth, the kid was going to be disappointed.
So be it.
He’d get over it. Life was filled with plenty of disappointments.
Adam went back into the kitchen and took a long slug of wine, this time right from the bottle that he’d opened and left amidst the sandwich rubble.
Which was when the doorbell rang.
Adam looked at his wavy reflection in the kitchen window and waited. His hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in days. There was a coffee stain on his shirt, too, his jeans needed to be washed a week ago, and his feet were bare.
But only when the bell rang for a second time did he move, taking another slug of wine before heading toward the door.
Tony debated leaving his bag in his car or carrying it with him, and his desire to make Adam think he was appeasing him won, so he’d locked it in the trunk.
He stood now on the small landing outside of Adam’s apartment with little more than his wallet, cell phone, and car keys in the pockets of his jeans, dressed the way he’d left the navy base, in only a T-shirt, no jacket, with sandals on his feet.
Lights were on in the building, but there was no way of knowing if the window next to that door was Adam’s. For all Tony knew, the door opened to reveal a set of stairs going up, and that window belonged to a neighbor.
As he rang the bell a second time, he considered the very real possibility that Adam had regretted his invitation and had left for parts unknown, further blowing Tony off by withholding the courtesy of a quick phone call and an even quicker Changed my mind.
The January wind gusted, forcing Tony to jam his hands into his pockets and hunch his shoulders against the cold night air. But then the door swung open, and yeah.
There was Adam. Looking better in real life than he did on the movie screen—which was saying something, because the man was, for Tony at least, the very definition of hot.
And everything Tony had planned to say vanished as the rest of the world fell away. In fact, it was possible that he’d also forgotten how to speak.
He tried to focus, took in a breath to at least say hi, but Adam shook his head. “No talking. There’s nothing to say. Just come in if you want. Or don’t. Either way, I don’t care.”
But he did care—there was heat in his eyes. Heat from desire and attraction, mixed together with a completely different kind of longing.
Tony knew that Adam was wrong. There were things that needed to be said, but every potential conversational start that his flustered brain came up with—Good to see you again. Cold out here. Traffic was pretty light this time of night. Nice neighborhood. You look great—seemed inane.
So he just opened his mouth and blurted out, “I’ve only got three days.”
Adam was already shaking his head, already starting to shut the door.
Tony moved forward. He put his foot on the jamb, leaned on the door to stop him.
Adam wasn’t trying all that hard to keep him out, which was good—and all part of the game. And they were, absolutely, playing a game here.
“No talking,” Adam said again. “No more than necessary. I’m negative and I’m careful. No bareback, no risks. If you’re into shit like that, you should turn around and go home.”
“I’m not. And I am, too—careful and negative and that’s … almost everything I wanted to say, but …” Tony lost himself a little, just by looking deeply into the other man’s go
rgeous eyes. They were practically nose to nose, each leaning on the other side of the door.
“Not almost,” Adam whispered. “The talking’s over.”
They were standing so close that Tony could feel Adam’s body heat and practically taste the sweet scent of what had to be a very nice red wine on his breath.
“I’m going wheels up,” he spoke quickly, because he didn’t want to practically taste it. He was dying to kiss the man. “Probably on Sunday. Maybe Saturday. I won’t be back until April at the earliest. At which point, I’ll let you call me.”
“I won’t.”
Tony smiled at Adam’s scoffed conviction. “Fair enough. Although it’s fine with me if you change your mind.”
“This is getting boring,” Adam said, as he purposely let his gaze slide down and linger on Tony’s mouth.
So Tony leaned in and kissed him.
It was public and twice as dangerous because of that, but he took his time, working hard to keep his mouth gentle, to make the kiss sweet. As opposed to the tongues-down-the-throat-with-a-crotch-grab that he knew Adam had been expecting.
God, it was sweet.
And God, he was actually kissing Adam Wyndham.
And Adam was kissing him back, his use of the door as a barrier between them forgotten, his body taut against him, one arm up around Tony’s neck, the other …
In the two and a half seconds since their mouths had first met, Adam had found and unfastened the top button of Tony’s jeans. The zipper wasn’t quite as easy to lower, which was a good thing, considering he was following the time-honored SEAL tradition of going commando.
For someone who wasn’t into taking risks, this was off the chart. Of course, Adam was public about his being gay—it wasn’t a risk for him to make out on his front porch. It was Tony whose career forced him to hide not just in the shadows, but safely inside with the shades pulled tightly down.
He didn’t want to stop kissing Adam, so he maneuvered his way inside, kicking the door shut behind them, even as he grabbed Adam’s wrist. “Slow it down,” he murmured between kisses as the door gave a final-sounding thunk. “Just a little, okay? We’ll get there. I’d like to stay a little bit longer than twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.”
When Tony Met Adam (Short Story) Page 2
