by Lydia Nyx
“Zane,” he said, with a high-pitched, quavering laugh. “Just on my way to set.”
“Oh.” Zane twisted the paper in his hands. They stood at an awkward distance from each other and Zane moved slowly toward him. “I’ll be there soon. Just waiting for Elliot. Is he up?”
Cristiano nodded, flicking his gaze to the floor. He fidgeted with the strap of his bag.
“Cristiano.” Zane took another step toward him, and Cristiano looked up. Zane struggled to find the right words. “I just want you to know, I’m not pissed off at you over what happened. It was just as much my fault.”
Cristiano pushed the bag up on his shoulder and looked down at the floor again. “I…” He glanced up. “I don’t blame you. It was a stupid thing for me to do. I was just…acting with my cock and not my brain.”
Zane almost laughed at the sound of such an uncouth word coming out of his mouth, but the gravity of the moment didn’t let him.
“It was my fault,” Zane said. “For trying to kiss you in the bathroom that night.”
“You didn’t throw yourself at me, like I did to you.”
“No, but it gave you the wrong idea. I was pissed off at Davey and my brother, and I was acting like a fool.”
“It’s clear neither one of us is going to let the other blame himself,” Cristiano said. “I hope you and Davey are working things out.” He smiled tightly.
“Time will tell.” Zane forced a smile in return. “What about you and Elliot? Does he…does he know? He hasn’t fired me yet, so I assume not.”
Cristiano looked down and shifted his jaw. He looked back up and his gaze had darkened. “We broke up.”
Zane stared at him. “What? When?”
“Just now. I broke it off with him. I just — I can’t get involved with people I’m working with anymore.” He looked haunted, an unidentifiable emotion deeper than sadness glimmering in his eyes.
“But…” Zane couldn’t find words.
“It’s for the best, really.” Cristiano reached over and patted the back of Zane’s hand. His skin felt soft and cold. “You’re a good man, Zane. You’re a little confused, but it’s all right. Life is confusing.” His smile looked so sad Zane wondered how anyone could have such a conflicting expression. “Take care of Elliot for me? He’s going to be hurt and angry for a while, but he’ll be all right, in the end. I know he will.”
“You’ve been such a good friend to me,” Zane said. He still couldn’t get over his bewilderment. “No nagging or judging, just straightforward advice. I don’t want us to stop being friends. Can we quit being weird around each other?”
“I’d like that.”
The strange light still shone in Cristiano’s eyes. He looked like someone who had reached a wall and had to figure out a way to climb over.
“I can’t believe you and Elliot broke up.” Zane shook his head. “God, you guys were — “
“Please.” Cristiano held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right. Still, I’m sorry.”
“I really do have to get to the set.”
“All right. I guess I’ll see you in a little bit, then. I’m glad we finally talked. Pretty stupid of us, huh?”
“Yes.” Cristiano smiled tightly again and then started across the lobby. Zane watched him go, experiencing both relief and a sensation like he’d been kicked in the stomach.
Zane headed upstairs, wondering how much damage control he’d have to do with Elliot. He decided to go to Davey’s room first and bolster himself for the drama.
Davey opened the door with his coat on. “We just got in. I’ll be ready in a few.”
Zane stepped in, checking his watch. “We’ve got forty-five minutes still.”
“I didn’t think we were going to get back in time,” Davey said, sounding out of breath. “Fucking airports. Something’s always delayed.” His illness had passed quickly. He had his usual vital glow back, as well as his sharp tongue. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot, come in and meet my friend!”
Zane stepped further into the room. A man with short, choppy, dirty-blond hair stood by the bed. He had an angular face with high cheekbones and dark eyes, and he looked older than Davey. He wore all black, jeans and a t-shirt, a wallet chain dangling on his hip. He rooted through an open suitcase on the bed.
“Troy, this is Zane Reed,” Davey said, working his coat off. “Zane, my best friend Troy MacClane.”
They shook hands.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Troy said.
“Likewise,” Zane said.
Davey dropped his coat in a chair. “Troy’s going to stay in my room, save some cash.” He breezed into the bathroom. “You won’t tell anyone, will you, Zane?”
“Yeah, I’ll run right down to the front desk and alert them.”
“I figure I can crash on the sofa out there,” Davey’s voice drifted from the bathroom. “He can have the bed.”
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Troy said back.
“Fuck you will! You’re sleeping on the bed, shut the fuck up.”
Troy smirked at Zane. “I feel for you, having to put up with that shit all the time.”
“I’ve gotten good at ignoring him.”
“I know you’re talking about me!” Davey called out.
Troy accompanied them to the set, as did Ian. Zane found Elliot, unsurprisingly, in a terrible mood, not wanting to talk, and insisting he wanted to be alone. Zane called him a car so he could go by himself, and the rest of them went in Ian’s rental. Zane dreaded what Ian might say to Troy. Ian said nothing to Zane.
“So, you’re a fashion designer?” Ian asked Troy. Ian maintained a polite and charming stance, but Zane had seen him scrutinizing Troy when they all met outside the hotel. “Do you live in Los Angeles?”
“San Francisco,” Troy said. He sat up front with Ian and Zane sat in the back with Davey. “And yeah, it’s one my many projects. I do some art too. And I muck around the movie business every now and then, doing odd jobs.”
“Interesting,” Ian said. “So, you and Davey are trying to start your own line?”
“That’s what he keeps saying.” Troy looked over his shoulder. “If I can get him to sit still for ten minutes and work on it.”
“I’m networking!” Davey said defensively. “Jobs like this will help us find the right people!”
“He has some great ideas,” Troy said, turning back around. “Especially when he’s stoned.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Davey said. “I’ve seen your paintings.”
“What do you paint?” Ian asked.
“Abstract,” Troy answered. “Lots of color and shape. I like to grab people in the gut.”
“He’s good,” Davey said. “Really out there, but that’s what art is all about. Stretching yourself. Pushing the boundaries.”
“Amen to that.” Troy held a hand up.
“I can see why you two are friends,” Zane said, not derisively but with real reverence.
“Aww.” Davey reached over and patted Zane on the cheek. “You’re so sweet.” Zane scowled and pushed his hand away. “Christ, what’s up your ass today?” Davey asked.
“Nothing.”
Shooting went poorly. Nothing seemed to fall into place and Saul had several rage-fueled outbursts. Everyone slowly degenerated into a bad mood — except Davey, who kept trying to cheer Zane up with near constant needling and teasing. Elliot looked a mess. Cristiano kept a significant distance from him and sent others to work on his costume. Zane wanted to tell Davey about them, but there never seemed to be a right time.
Troy and Ian sat on the sidelines, chatting and seemingly having a very good time as they were constantly laughing. Zane noticed Ian wasn’t on the prowl though, just being friendly, so Troy must not have passed his inspection — or else Ian had reverted to subtlety in order to take him by surprise.
“So, how come you and Ian aren’t talking?” Davey asked Zane while they waited for the lighting crew
to adjust the lights for the hundredth time.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why are you not talking? You know, saying things to each other? With your mouths?”
“It’s a long story. We’re fine.”
“The only thing fine about either of you is your asses.”
“People!” Saul shouted before Zane could answer. “How about we try to act in this shot, huh? Wouldn’t that be nice? It’ll save us from having to be here all night!”
They were there all night. By the time they drove back to the hotel Zane’s displeasure had doubled — even tripled — from being tired and hungry. He sat in the backseat with Davey again.
“Zane,” Troy said and twisted around in his seat up front. “Ian says you want to be a director.”
“I do. It’s what I went to school for.”
“My girlfriend’s dad directs art-house films.”
Zane glanced at Ian when Troy said “girlfriend.” Now he understood why his brother hadn’t zeroed in.
“Which girlfriend?” Davey asked. “Last time I talked to you, you were dating that chick from that band. What the hell were they called again? Confusion?”
“Cold Fusion,” Troy said icily. “And I never dated her. We went out a couple times. No man, I’m talking about Aiko. The one that works at the roadhouse.”
“The one that smells like onion rings?” Davey asked.
“She works at a roadhouse! You used to smell like shit when you were washing dishes for a living too, cocksucker.”
Zane bit his tongue, trying not to laugh.
Davey heaved a sigh. “If she makes you happy. At least you’ll have all the fried food you could want.”
“Fuck off.”
They had a late dinner before going back to the hotel. Ian and Troy carried most of the conversation during the meal as Zane was exhausted and Davey seemed just as worn out. Ian dropped them off at the hotel and they went up to their rooms.
Davey paused outside his door after letting Troy in. “Hey,” he whispered.
Zane stopped, having turned to go to his room. “What?”
“Goodnight, stupid.” Davey reached up and grabbed the back of Zane’s head and pulled his face down. They shared a brief, firm kiss, and then Davey drew back. Zane was edgy and glanced toward the door. He didn’t want Troy to see them kissing, as if somehow a witness could alert his father from beyond the grave.
“Come by in the morning, if Elliot isn’t keeping you busy,” Davey said. “We’ll all hang out, since we don’t have to shoot until afternoon.”
“All right,” Zane said.
Zane had stayed in Davey’s room or Davey in his every night since they’d been there. Getting to sleep alone wasn’t easy, and Zane rather hated how much he missed having Davey snuggled up to him. Not to mention the sex. He also hated admitting his brother might have been right about yet another thing.
Chapter 20
In the morning Zane crawled out of his empty bed, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, and went directly to Davey’s room.
Davey and Troy were both up; Davey wore just a pair of sweats and Troy boxers and a t-shirt. Most of the morning the two spent sketching and discussing various designers. Zane sprawled on the sofa while they occupied the bed, sketch pads and notebooks spread everywhere. Zane listened to them and watched television, occasionally giving feedback when requested. They ordered room service for both breakfast and lunch.
Around two, Ian showed up. “There you are!” He peeked in the room at Zane after Davey answered the door. “Thought I might find you here.”
“Come on in,” Davey said. He still wore just his sweats. “We’re just working on some designs.”
Ian entered and Zane drew his feet up so he could sit on the sofa.
Troy lost interest in the designs and started talking about all the things he wanted to see during his visit.
“It sucks I have to work so much,” Davey said. He was sprawled crossways on the bed, writing in a notebook. “There’s so much stuff to see in Paris.”
“I can take him sightseeing,” Ian said. “You guys have to go to the set shortly, don’t you? So, why don’t I take him around? We’ll meet you guys somewhere for dinner.”
Troy shrugged and looked at Davey. “Fine by me. If you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.” Davey kept writing. “If Ian doesn’t mind.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
Troy wanted to clean up first. While he showered, Davey showed Zane and Ian some of their designs. The styles were very modish and somewhat edgy, like a line for futuristic hipsters, but Zane could imagine Davey in most of the outfits.
“These are amazing,” Ian said, looking through the sheets of paper. “I know some people you could talk to. They might be interested in helping you with funding.”
“Really?” Davey perked. “That would be awesome.”
While they waited, Zane hung out the window and smoked a cigarette. Davey joined him, squeezing in, bare torso hanging out the window and shivering in the chilly wind. He plucked Zane’s cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.
“I thought you only smoked after sex!” Ian called from inside the room.
Davey smirked and looked over his shoulder. “Who says I haven’t had it?”
“With your friend here?”
“He held the camera.”
“I don’t buy that. Zane isn’t nearly that adventurous.”
Zane scowled and snatched his cigarette back.
After Troy got out of the shower and dressed, he and Ian left. Davey sat down on the bed.
“Alone at last,” he sighed.
“Yeah, and we gotta get ready to go too.” Zane tried to walk past but Davey caught him by the belt loops.
“Come on, it’s the first time we’ve been alone since yesterday morning.”
“Davey…”
“Are you going to try to tell me you’ve been hanging out here all day not hoping for a few minutes alone to fuck?”
Davey had him there. Zane crawled on the bed, over top of Davey, and kissed him to still his triumphant gloating. Davey gripped Zane’s hair and made the kiss harder and deeper. Zane mocked Ian in his head. Losing him for a week indeed.
Davey pushed Zane over and climbed on top. He sat up, gazing down at Zane and biting his lower lip, a few strands of hair having escaped his ponytail and hanging around his face.
“So, you wanna?” Davey asked.
Zane glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. “Actually, yes. But do we have time?”
“Quickie.” Davey grinned widely. “Get your pants off.”
Zane couldn’t get his legs untangled from his jeans, and Davey didn’t seem to care. He took his own pants off and got back on top of him while they were still around Zane’s ankles. Their cocks brushed together, both fully hard.
“Oh,” Davey said with a breathy sigh. He worked his hips, rubbing firmly. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah.” Zane arched his hips, watching. “We need some lube.”
“Ah fuck.” Davey looked around the room. “I buried it under the stuff in my bag. Didn’t want Troy finding it and razzing me.”
“Spit.” Zane licked his hand. “Nature’s own brand.” He spat in his palm and smeared the saliva down the length of his own cock.
“Uncouth bastard.”
Davey had no reservations about taking him thus lubed however, though he winced and grunted as he sunk down slowly, Zane gripping the base of his cock to keep it steady. Davey leaned forward and trapped Zane’s arm between their bodies.
“Ow,” Davey said. “Spit doesn’t make things as comfy.”
“You can get the lube,” Zane murmured. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“It’s all right, I’ll get used to it.”
Once he took Zane fully inside, deep into the wonderful, tight heat of his body, things went much smoother. Davey rocked his hips. “Yes,” he whispered, flexing his fingers on Zane’s shoulders, eyelashes fluttering.
Zane glanced at the clock again. “Gotta make this fast,” he said breathily.
“Won’t be a problem.”
Davey rode him with smooth movements, a sultry smile on his lips. Zane pushed up a little but let Davey do most of the work so he didn’t hurt him. He liked Davey being on top. He could focus on him, watch him.
“Take your hair down,” Zane whispered.
Davey smiled and paused to tug the tie out of his hair; he shook it out over his shoulders and resumed working his hips.
“Getting close?” Davey murmured. He watched Zane with heavy-lidded, darkened eyes.
“Yes,” Zane breathed out. “God, keep moving like that.” Davey had found just the rhythm: slow, easy, taking him fully on each stroke. “Almost there — “
When Zane heard the click he thought the bed made the sound, rocking underneath them. Less than a breath later, he realized he’d heard the doorknob turning.
“Holy shit!” Troy said. The look on his face perfectly mirrored the sensation in Zane’s chest.
Davey stopped and whipped his head around. Zane, panicked, tried to push him off.
“Fuck!” Zane said.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Troy backed up, covering his eyes. “I forgot my gloves! I’ll just buy some!” He rushed out the door.
“Troy!” Davey pulled himself off Zane’s cock, which wasn’t hard, since Zane had immediately started going limp. Davey scrambled off the bed but the door slammed shut.
“Fuck!” Zane sat up and yanked at his pants. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
“Don’t fucking panic, all right? It’s not the first time he’s caught me fucking a guy.” He grabbed his sweats from the bottom of the bed. “Actually, I was giving a blowjob, but it’s the same idea.”
“I feel so much better!”
Zane pushed himself off the bed and yanked up his jeans. “Mortified” didn’t begin to cover his state of mind. He fumbled with the zipper and button on his pants, looking around the room, helpless, not sure what to do next, just feeling he had to leave.
“Where are you going?” Davey asked as Zane pushed past him, pulling on his shirt. “Zane, don’t you walk out of this room!”
Zane paused at the door. “Why the fuck not?”
