by Lydia Nyx
Zane took a sip from his little porcelain cup, filled with strong Arabica coffee. They sat at a table near the door. Cristiano had several bags already, mostly filled with clothes he’d purchased, and he sifted through them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zane asked.
“What was your crime?” Elliot asked.
Zane considered his words for a moment, holding his cup and gazing out the door at the people passing by.
“Pride, I guess.”
“Well then,” Elliot said, “you’ve got to show him your — “ he cleared his throat and fixed him with a condescending smile, “friendship is more important to you than your pride.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to humiliate yourself,” Cristiano said. He placed the bags at his feet and smiled at Zane. “You have to put yourself on the line and show him you don’t care what other people think of you.”
The idea made Zane’s insides cringe.
“That doesn’t sound like it would help either one of us,” Zane said.
“You have to take the rest of my father’s advice too,” Elliot said. “You have to give him back what you took away from him.”
“I didn’t take anything from him!”
“Then why’s he so mad at you? Think about it, Zane. This is a metaphorical taking away, not like you stole his watch or something.”
“I don’t know.” But Zane tried to think, cup hovering beneath his lips. He took a sip and thought some more. “I don’t know,” he said again. “His peace of mind? His child-like sense of wonder?”
“His faith in you?” Cristiano said softly. He gazed at Zane with those maddeningly dark, knowing eyes.
Zane didn’t respond. He wasn’t entirely convinced Davey ever had any faith in him. Really, what did “having faith” mean? Did his feelings stem from believing Zane to be more than the sum of his parts?
“I don’t think a piece of pottery is going to restore that,” Zane said, putting his cup down. “No matter how much it costs. Or how easy it breaks.”
“Maybe you should make him something,” Elliot suggested. “Give him something from the heart.”
“I’ll get out my needlepoint.”
“You know, maybe he’s right, Zane.” Cristiano spoke with the gentle voice of reason. “A gift isn’t necessarily something you can hold in your hands, especially if it’s from the heart.” He leaned forward and brushed his fingers across the back of Zane’s hand. His fingertips were soft. “And sometimes,” Cristiano lowered his voice, “when pride is very strong, even the smallest gesture can make huge ripples.”
They sat and finished their coffee, silent for a while, and then Elliot and Cristiano started discussing their purchases. Zane barely listened, chewing Cristiano’s words over in his head. He drummed his fingers on the table, mind flitting from thought to thought. He stared at the floor, then the wall. Finally, he focused on the sunlight slanting on the ground outside and widened his eyes.
Zane finished off his coffee, determination surging in his chest.
“You guys think we can find a digital printing service around here somewhere?” he asked.
***
In the afternoon Elliot did pickups and Zane joined him in the studio. Zane had a huge leather binder stuffed with Elliot’s scripts, schedules, pertinent correspondence, and every mention of him in magazines or on the internet to track what the gossip was saying about him. Zane lugged the thing around everywhere, a sort of office really, and he’d attached pictures of his own family and friends to the covers. The binder rested on his lap while he watched Saul talk to the actors about the scene.
A snort pulled Zane out of his concentration.
“You guys stop fighting then?” Rory asked. He stood nearby, waiting for Saul to need him, much the way Zane waited around for Elliot.
“Yep,” Zane said simply.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Rory mocked.
Zane said nothing. He caught sight of Davey crossing the room and his heart crawled into his throat. Cristiano had conveniently put Davey in charge of monitoring costumes during the shoot.
Davey wore track pants and a blue t-shirt, a bulging duffel bag hanging from one arm and a water bottle in his opposite hand. He glanced at Zane as he approached, expression wary. Zane had deliberately perched himself in the costuming area.
Zane looked back at Saul. He heard Davey come up beside him, as Zane was completely in the way, and felt a thump as Davey dropped his duffel bag on the floor. Zane shifted in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, bobbing his dangling foot. From the corner of his eye he saw Davey staring at him.
“Zane.”
Zane looked up, forcing his best poker face. “Huh?”
Davey stared at Zane’s binder, mouth opened a little. Zane couldn’t read his expression and wondered if that was a bad sign.
“Where did that come from?” Davey asked and pointed.
Zane looked down at the binder, as if just noticing it on his lap. Davey, of course, was referring to the picture on the front cover. Zane had snapped the photograph during filming in Melilla. They’d been a little tipsy because catering snuck vodka onto the set and Zane wanted to test his new camera. He grabbed Davey and snapped a picture of the two of them, faces pressed together, grinning like idiots in the afternoon sunlight. Zane had bought a strip of stickers at the market and stuck the picture on his binder with several glittery pink hearts.
“Melilla.” Zane chuckled. “I think Saul figured out we were drinking on the set that day.”
Zane cast a sideways look at Rory, but he had been summoned and walked away. Zane looked back at Davey and found his face still unreadable.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Davey said. He turned and walked off.
Zane got up and went after him. He caught up to him in the hallway where the bathrooms were.
“Listen!” Zane said. Davey stopped and looked back at him. “Do you know what it took for me to do that? What it’s taking for me to leave it there?”
“Why did you put it on there? It’s ridiculous.”
“Because. I — please don’t make me say it. You never take it easy on me, despite what you think.”
Zane had a whole speech prepared, but the words were lost. His mind raced, his heart raced, and he just wanted Davey to say something, anything, reassuring.
“I spent all day trying to figure out a gift for you,” Zane said, “to try to make it up to you. And then I realized — what you need most from me is an apology.”
Davey tilted his chin up. He didn’t speak, but Zane saw the light in his eyes soften and change.
“I’m very sorry.” Zane stumbled over the words but struggled to keep his footing. “I’m sorry I’m fucked up. I’m sorry I’m so worried about what other people will think of me, even behind closed doors. I’m sorry I can’t be wild and crazy and carefree like you.”
Davey stood silent, listening.
“You have to be gentle with me,” Zane said. He looked down, trying to escape Davey’s gaze, trying to withdraw into the safety of himself. “I don’t know anything about this place you want to take me. I’m scared. Can you understand that? Do you know fear at all?”
He looked back up cautiously. Davey continued gazing silently at him.
“How wonderful it would be to live in the world you live in,” Zane said. “Where everything is simple, where you take what you want without fear of consequence. But I don’t live in that world, and I never will. If you can accept that, I can accept that you don’t live in a world where caution and paranoia drive everything you do. And maybe we can compromise.”
Davey took a step forward. They stared into each other’s eyes.
Zane said softly, “Don’t lose faith in me. Just give me a chance.”
Davey dropped his gaze and focused on Zane’s chest. After a long, tense moment, he looked back up.
“I never would have had faith in you in the first place if I didn’t believe you were capable of someth
ing like this,” Davey said.
Zane swallowed. “I’m so sorry those idiots did that to you. You shouldn’t have been treated that way.”
Davey gazed at him a moment, eyes getting a little brighter, throat working. “I’m sorry your father was an asshole who beat you,” he whispered.
They wrapped their arms around each other and embraced. After a long, tight squeeze, Davey said with a wet laugh, “You’re forgiven. Now go take that stupid picture off your binder. I look like hell in it.”
Zane chuckled and drew back, still holding Davey’s arms.
“No, I don’t think I will. You don’t look like hell in it, I don’t think so.”
Davey fixed him with a critical look, but smiled. “We’ll see how long this lasts.”
“We better get back in there.” Zane tugged Davey’s hair. “You don’t want to let Cristiano down.”
“You guys orchestrated this, didn’t you?”
Zane grinned slyly. “Maybe.”
“Figures. It takes twelve of you to cobble together an apology.”
“I got you another gift too,” Zane said. “Do you like pottery?”
***
“Isn’t my boyfriend clever?” Elliot asked, walking alongside Zane out to the cars. The sun had just set, and the glittering city of Cairo stretched like a sinful promise in the valley below, beckoning them to come party. “He knew exactly what to do, didn’t he?”
“Boyfriend?” Zane looked over at him. “It’s official now?”
“Between us it is. Not for the tabloids yet. I want to tell my family first.”
Zane smiled. Cristiano and Davey trailed behind and they caught up.
“Did you give him his pottery?” Cristiano asked as they reached Elliot’s car.
“Oh God, I’m all aflutter,” Davey said. “Some pot, just for me!”
Zane smiled and unlocked the back door. He delved into his bag on the backseat and pulled out a wide bowl with handles, painted bright red with blue stripes. He turned and held the pot out to Davey, presenting it like a chalice. Davey tilted his head.
“It’s handmade,” Cristiano said. “And hand painted.”
“And breaks over a guy’s head real easy,” Elliot said.
Davey took the pot and peered into it, then looked up at Zane.
“What in the name of hell am I going to do with this?” Davey asked.
“I was gonna put beer in it, if you didn’t want it.” Zane shrugged.
Davey smiled and wrapped his arms around his gift. “Thank you.”
“So, are we going out or what?” Elliot threw his bag in the car. “I have a whole list of clubs we can hit.”
Zane looked at Davey. “Are we going out?”
“Let’s.” Davey smiled. “I’ll bring my pot so we can fill it with beer.”
Zane watched him walk around the car, the pot dangling from one hand, duffel bag thumping against his hip, his hair shifting on his shoulders. One thing Zane had never been able to deny even in his most steadfast moments: Davey took his breath away, even at his most mundane. He had a feeling the most insane ride of his life awaited him.
Chapter 12
The flash of cameras, the swarm of screaming fans and eager press — adrenaline pumped through Zane’s body as he forced his way through the crowd behind Elliot. The excitement made him remember why he’d chosen this life. They were at the premiere and he was walking down the red carpet for the first time. Not quite a celebrity himself, but he was there.
The cast was already lined up, posing for pictures and answering questions, and Elliot went to join them. Saul waved to Zane and beckoned him over.
“Glad you could make it!” The director chuckled and draped an arm over Zane’s shoulders. They’d become good friends. Saul had taken him under his wing and soon, Zane would be a household name, just like him.
“Traffic was a bitch,” Zane said over the commotion. He scanned the crowd and saw…him. Cristiano had brought his assistant too.
Davey looked stunning. His hair rested on his shoulders in soft waves. He wore all black, under a long black coat, with a black scarf slung over one shoulder. His blue eyes caught the flashes, wide and beautiful. He walked up to Zane and smiled. Zane warily smiled back.
“I think it’s time to make this official,” Davey said over the noise, leaning toward him. “Don’t you?”
Zane stared blankly at him. Then, before Zane could answer, Davey gripped his face and planted a firm kiss on his lips.
All attention instantly focused on them. Gasps rose, the only sound as a hush settled swiftly over the crowd. Zane couldn’t move, frozen in horror.
When Davey pulled away his eyes were limpid, smile soft, lips glistening.
“Oh Zane, I love you. I’m not afraid to tell the world.”
Cameras started flashing. A woman with a microphone stood nearby, staring like a deer caught in the headlights. Zane saw Elliot, gaping at them in disbelief. Zane was so fired.
Davey moved downward, slipping his hands around to grip Zane’s hips. He latched onto one of Zane’s shirt buttons with his teeth and ripped it off. He spit the button across the carpet and it landed at the woman reporter’s feet. The photographers snapped pictures of the sexily discarded item.
“I want to show everyone how I feel about you,” Davey said and gazed up at Zane adoringly, now on his knees.
He started undoing Zane’s pants. Zane still couldn’t move, frozen in place.
Davey fully undid Zane’s pants and pushed them and his underwear down enough to free his cock. People shouted in excitement and disbelief. Then Davey slid his mouth over him, hot and wet. Zane had gotten hard despite the situation.
“What the fuck is this pansy shit?” Saul shouted, only he sounded like Zane’s father. Davey began bobbing eagerly.
“Are you mocking me?” Elliot cried out. “This isn’t fucking funny, Zane!”
Zane looked down and Davey’s luminous blue eyes met his over his groin. He moaned around Zane’s cock, sending vibrations down the shaft.
Zane sat up in bed, screaming.
An anxious flailing erupted in the covers next to him. Davey sat up as well with an alarmed shout, pushing his hair from his face.
“What is it?” Davey asked. “What’s going on!”
Zane, panting and soaked with sweat, lifted the covers and peeked down at his crotch. His cock was rock hard.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed.
Davey looked over Zane’s shoulder. “It’s just your dick, Zane, no need to be alarmed. It won’t bite if you don’t threaten it.”
Zane dropped the covers. Davey pushed his hair back from his forehead with an irritable scowl.
“What the hell were you screaming about!” Davey asked.
“I had a nightmare.” Zane rubbed a hand over his face. “You were sucking my dick.”
He realized belatedly those words didn’t sound right at all. Davey’s mouth fell open.
“On the red carpet at the premiere!” Zane said.
Davey stared at him a moment, snapped his mouth shut, and cracked up laughing.
Zane glared at him. “Fuck you.”
Davey fell back on his pillow, still cackling. Zane sighed.
Morning sunlight blazed through the windows and fell across the bed. The air was stuffy and smelled like cigarette smoke and sex. Davey’s pot sat on the vanity, the light making the colors brighter and bolder. They were in Davey’s room.
Zane flung the covers back, intending to get up and go to the bathroom and leave Davey to laugh his idiot head off, but he realized nothing would function properly. His cock still stood at attention, remembering the nuances of dream-Davey’s mouth.
“I think you have issues,” Davey said, his laughter tapering to chuckles. Zane felt the mattress shift and Davey raked his fingernails lightly down his back, making his cock perk further. “Your mind is finally turning against you.”
Zane squirmed. “I gotta take a piss, stop.”
“
You can use my pot.” Davey stopped his fingers at the base of Zane’s spine and rested them there. “Your piss is probably pure alcohol this morning anyway, so it won’t make a difference to any beer left in there.”
Zane remembered with amusement they had actually filled the pot with beer the night before.
“That’s not the issue,” Zane said and looked down at his lap. Maybe if he smoked a cigarette and calmed down…
More shifting, and Davey came crawling around on his elbows.
“My, granny, what a big boner you have.”
“Fucking pervert.”
“No, your line is ‘all the better to fill your mouth, my child.’”
“Would you stop it!” Zane’s cock surged again at the thought. “I want it to go down so I can take a piss!”
“I know how to get it to go down.”
“You’re not hitting it with anything.”
Davey’s hair brushed Zane’s thigh, which definitely didn’t help. In fact, a bead of moisture formed at the tip and trickled out. Zane almost groaned.
“Don’t be ignorant,” Davey said.
He clambered onto his knees, then, after nudging Zane back, leaned over him. Davey’s skin felt warm and silky from sleep, his hair draping over Zane’s thighs, soft and tickling. Zane sat back on his hands and before he could protest, the supple, wet heat of Davey’s mouth slid over him.
Zane groaned and bit his lip. Davey had wrapped himself up in the sheet, bare shoulders hunkered over Zane’s groin. He slid his hand around the base and bobbed his head.
Zane tried to enjoy the blowjob and not think about red carpets, or his father’s voice in Saul’s mouth. Davey worked his hand smoothly up and down in rhythm with the slick slide of his lips and tongue, engulfing Zane’s entire cock. His attentions felt so deliriously good Zane forgot all about nightmares, his toes curling, fisting his hands in the sheets.
He wanted to draw Davey’s hair back from his face so he could watch, but he couldn’t manage in his half-sitting position, supported by his arms. Davey rested his other hand on Zane’s thigh, rubbing his fingers in light circles near his balls. The room was so quiet, so still and warm, Zane could hear the soft slurping sounds he made around him. Occasionally Davey would sigh, or moan softly, and the sensation traveled all the way down Zane’s cock.
