Treble Maker

by Annabeth Albert

  Almost choking on a fry, Lucas could only nod. Am I that bad? Running from myself?

  “But dude, how do you put up with it? Him just right there? All. The. Time. Must be hell. I mean, assuming you’re into guys like that.”

  Lucas made a sound not unlike a dying squirrel. Never, in three-plus years of friendship, had they discussed what kind of guys they dug. They’d discussed what waiting for marriage meant. They’d discussed equal rights. They’d discussed how to avoid temptation. But their type of dude? Never.

  You want to get fucked and you hate them knowing it. Okay. Cody might have a point. A little tiny point. Lucas was more comfortable filling out petitions and passing out rainbow fish stickers than admiring hot guys with his friends.

  “Eh. It’s not bad.” He shrugged. He had to look down at his drink because he knew the lie was probably all over his face. “You know what we need?”

  “Yeah?” Trevor’s voice brightened for the first time all night.

  “A distraction.” If they talked about this stuff any longer, it was possible Lucas’s head might pop off.

  “Oh, yeah.” Trevor leaned forward, his hand almost touching Lucas’s. “I’m so down with that.”

  “How about we go to your room?”

  “Sure.” Trevor’s cheeks got pinker. He pushed a hand through his hair, ruffling it up even worse. He stood, his eyes darting around the room. A group of people from the show were huddled near the double glass doors. Another shuttle back to the hotel must be leaving soon.

  “Helping each other out is—”

  “You still got Skyrim on your computer, or you block that, too?” He clapped Trevor on the back. A good, distracting quest was exactly what both of them needed.

  “Oh. Uh.” Trevor coughed. “Yeah. We can do that. Sure. You can stay as late as you want. My roomie probably won’t be back till late.”

  Thanks for the reminder. Lucas tried not to picture what Cody and the others were getting up to at the club. Was Cody dancing with someone right this moment? Was he drunk? Was he relieved Lucas wasn’t there, cramping his style? Mad that he couldn’t take someone home . . . oh, God. He wouldn’t, right? His gut twisted, making him regret every bite of dinner.

  It wasn’t even midnight when Cody punched the elevator button for his floor. Any buzz had long since worn off. Hell of a Saturday night. Cody might as well purchase a halo and shine it up to match Lucas’s.

  Especially since he’d helped Ashley play Good Samaritan for two of the kids from the show who had gotten completely wasted and tried to start trouble. Bundling them back to the hotel had been a treat. At least he only smelled of puke—Ashley had gotten a Technicolor bath from one of the kids and a grope from another.

  Still Cody felt gross and sticky and in desperate need of a shower. And Lucas. Oh no you don’t. Leaning his head back against the cool metal of the elevator, he sighed, giving up. He wanted him. Damn it. He’d rolled an apology around in his head the whole way back to the hotel, the words as unfamiliar to him as hard liquor was to the dumb idiots outside puking their guts out.

  The room was dark when he opened the door. Entering the room quietly, he kicked off his shoes. Of course choirboy was already asleep. He’d probably been back for hours. Bastard. Cody pulled his shirt off, careful not to jingle his necklace. Debating whether or not the shower would wake Lucas up, he undid his belt. Clink. Damn thing was too noisy.

  He looked over at the lump of covers. His chest squeezed, a tighter, warmer feeling than the freaky stuff his stomach had been doing earlier. Hated that he’d come back even hornier than he’d left. Not even drunk. Just pissed.

  He sighed, his breath rushing past all the tight places in his chest. His hands felt clumsy—not able to hold on to his belt, let alone his anger. It’s not Lucas you should be angry with.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. There—that wasn’t so hard. The lump on the bed didn’t respond. He went farther into the room. “I was a jerk earlier.”

  He leaned over, wanting to kiss Lucas awake. . . .

  But came away with only air. No Lucas. Just a couple of duffel bags and a wadded-up lump of clothes. Well, fuck you very much, too.

  Lucas had no idea whether to feel relief or dread when he came into his room and found the lights on, the shower running, and Cody’s clothes all over the floor. Only Cody’s clothes. Thank God. Lucas would be scurrying back to Trevor’s room if there was any chance of Cody having a guest in the shower. The bathroom door was half-open and it would be so very easy to slip in there.

  A bolder guy, one less conflicted, would strip bare, step under the warm spray with Cody, soap him up . . .

  But Lucas wasn’t that guy. And he was pretty sure they weren’t speaking right now, so chances were good Cody would push him out of the shower, leaving him shivering and alone. Trying to hurry before Cody got done, Lucas stripped down to his shorts and T-shirt and dove under the covers.

  He didn’t have a chance to feign sleep before Cody emerged wearing a loose pair of athletic shorts and nothing else. Darn. No towel.

  “So what? Your little prayer meeting get done early? Work out all the . . . kinks in your little soul?” Cody flipped off the overhead light, leaving the room illuminated by the two bedside lamps.

  “What. The. Hell?” Lucas sat up, the covers pooling in his lap. “Are you seriously jealous?”

  “Me? Jealous?” Cody’s laugh was a cold, brittle dart to Lucas’s chest. “I’d have to give a care first.”

  “And you don’t?” Lucas’s voice came out frozen, burning his throat.

  “Think you know the answer to that.” Cody flopped onto his bed. “But you can always pray about it.”

  Well, this sure as heck wasn’t the conversation he’d thought they would have tonight. But because Cody had brought it up . . . “You want to tell me what exactly your issue is with Christians?”

  “Besides spending eighteen years fending off different groups that wanted to save me? Listening to my grandma praise God even as he failed her over and over? Watching hypocrites take her money every week?”

  “I’m sorry.” Lucas didn’t know what else to say. “I don’t believe—”

  “I know. You people”—he pointed at Lucas’s crucifix necklace, his eyes going fiery—“always have an excuse. You’re not that kind of religious. But you all use your god as a fucking shield. A keep-away sign.”

  Lucas sat back, feeling a little defensive but a lot curious about what the heck had happened to make Cody feel this way. “I am sorry. Sorry that some Christians messed up your childhood.”

  “Hmph. That didn’t mess up my childhood. Sixteen-year-old meth head who left me with her mom—she messed up my childhood. The church just iced the shit cake of my life.”

  “Look, I’m not judging you.”

  Cody snorted, but he made a go-on gesture with his hand.

  “I’m not. My dad’s written entire books on how messed up some churches are, so I get it. But there are also plenty who do good things. And I’m sorry you and your grandma didn’t have a better one.” He wished he had the right words for dealing with this side of Cody. His I-don’t-give-a-crap attitude had a crack, and Lucas’s hands felt warm—like he wanted to find Cody’s broken places and seal them back up.

  “You don’t know fuck all about us.” Cody looked away, his face shutting down and going somewhere Lucas couldn’t follow.

  “Tell me.” His chest twisted.

  “Not much to tell.” Cody turned away, talking at the curtains instead of Lucas. “Whole last two years of high school, my grandma didn’t speak to me. We lived in the same house and she did my laundry, kept food in front of me, and she sure as hell prayed over me. But she didn’t talk.”

  “Because she found out you were gay?”

  Cody’s silence was answer enough. Lucas had never been more grateful for his own coming-out experience. Plenty of times he’d wished his folks had talked less. There had been hours and hours of talking that first year. Then his dad had st
arted his book and his mom had had some articles published in her psychology journals, and there had been even more talking. Questions. Plans. So many times Lucas had just wanted to hide in his room but hadn’t been able. Cody reminded him why he was damn lucky to have his folks.

  “That sucks, man. I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be. Don’t want your pity.” Cody rolled over, a hardness in his eyes that warned Lucas off. “Better I figured it out than to spend years hoping she’d come around. Because I get what you and your friends say about tolerance—but that’s not reality. Reality is churches—all churches—trying to sell people on becoming what they’re not.” He raised his chin. “I am what I am. Not gonna pretend. Not for her. Not for anyone.”

  Lucas’s gut ached like he’d been punched.

  “I’m not . . .” His throat closed around the lie. “Look, I’m trying to figure some stuff out lately. But I’m not going to pretend either. This is who I am.” Liar. Liar. Liar. His brain went off like a deranged parrot. This whole thing with Cody was all about pretending on both their parts. And when they tried to get real? Like earlier? Everything turned ugly and left them in this bitter, awkward place.

  “I respect you sticking to your . . . whatever tonight. I don’t understand it, but I do get it.” Cody’s pauses were heavy with resignation. He leaned against the wall, seeming deflated. He looked more unsure than Lucas had ever seen him. “It’s just . . . I don’t want you telling yourself that I’m forcing you to sin or whatever. That I’m forcing you to fuck around—like I’m . . . I don’t know, mind raping you or something.”

  “God, no.” Lucas sat up. “That’s what you were all upset about?”

  “Maybe.” Cody looked relieved, his muscles loosening, the familiar crooked grin returning. “Because I’m happy to be your... live porn or whatever. But I’m not going to have you telling yourself the little games are real—that you don’t have a choice.”

  Lucas didn’t want Cody’s respect. Not with the games he was playing in his head, knowing he’d atone later, back home. And he could defend his church and his parents and their openness, but the truth was, they would never be okay with someone like Cody. He only had to look as far as Trevor’s horrified awe to see how things would go down. Tolerant, yes, but they wouldn’t be exactly “welcome, ye tattooed, promiscuous atheists.”

  What he really hated, though, was the vulnerable look on Cody’s face. Cody’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, like he was seeing some face other than Lucas’s in front of him.

  “That’s happened?”

  “Once.” Cody scowled. “When I still lived at ho—my grandma’s house. Guy from school who wanted to lie to himself. Told people I made him gay.”

  “You didn’t. He was an idiot.” Lucas knew that type—the ones with friends who believed gay was a disease they could catch. “And probably scared.”

  He let the word hang between them—a gap between whatever walls Cody threw up and a shimmering truth Lucas didn’t know if he had the courage to reach for. It wasn’t only this other guy he was talking about. He’d let his own fears get the better of him.

  “Big baby.” Cody smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which held deep pools of uncertainty.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come out tonight.” It was as close to the truth as Lucas could inch.

  “It’s no biggie.” Cody waved off the apology.

  “You really don’t care?” Lucas whispered.

  “No,” Cody lied. It was there in his clenched hands and pale skin and darting eyes. Lucas’s chest got warmer as he drew courage from the truth Cody didn’t want to reveal.

  “Not at all?” It was strange, being the one pushing. But something new and kind of scary gripped him, made him bolder.

  “I care about winning.” Cody crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. “And you not being too pissed to help us.”

  “You know I’ll help. Listen, I’m sorry if I hurt your—”

  “The fuck? I know your mom’s a shrink, but that doesn’t give you permission to go crawling around in my head.”

  Bingo. Lucas smiled, which just made Cody frown even more. He bounded out of bed, landing next to Lucas with a bed-rattling thud.

  “What about you? Do I scare you?” He crowded Lucas back against the pillows, but Lucas didn’t shrink from his menacing look.

  “You care,” he said, right into Cody’s face. “And no—you don’t scare me. At least not in a bad way.”

  “What about the good way?” Cody straddled his lap, pushing Lucas backward slightly.

  Lucas knew what Cody was doing—coming on to him so he wouldn’t have to talk about things anymore. As down as Lucas was with the not talking plan, he knew he should shut him down. But for all the swagger in his voice, Cody’s face was still uncertain.

  “You’re the kink whisperer, right? Haven’t you figured out that’s what turns my crank?” Lucas couldn’t believe he was admitting that. Maybe he needed distraction as much as Cody. Or maybe Cody needed his honesty and Lucas needed . . . he had no idea.

  “I figured out what gets you off. And I’m all about scaring you in the good way and you begging me. I just . . . it needs to be a game.” The hungry, almost desperate look in Cody’s eyes made Lucas’s dick throb and his brain go pleasantly numb.

  For you. Lucas nodded. Cody needed the security of knowing this was a game, needed to know Lucas wasn’t going to hurt him with wild accusations, needed to know he was in charge. Seeing this other side of Cody, the vulnerable one, the one he could actually hurt—suddenly things were way more real. His chest hurt with the force of his heart pounding.

  This was dangerous—a far cry from rubbing one out together. Ever since the kiss in the bathroom, Lucas had made a point to avoid kissing Cody. Kissing was a slippery slope. And this? Cody’s ass against his dick? His breath warm on Lucas’s face? This was a freaking mudslide toward places Lucas knew he probably shouldn’t go.

  But desperately wanted to.

  “Tell me about this good scare. What does it do for you?” The calculated seduction in Cody’s tone worked as swiftly as truth serum, loosening Lucas’s tongue.

  “I like it when you make me feel out of control. Let me resist and resist until I don’t have anything left to cling to and then I’m begging for it and you hold out on me. . . .” He trailed off, his face getting too hot to continue.

  “Oh, keep going.” Cody worked a hand under Lucas’s T-shirt, spreading his palm wide against Lucas’s stomach. “I need details. Choreography. Tell me your favorite fantasy.”

  Lucas closed his eyes and let the warmth of Cody’s hand press him down.

  “I want . . .” His voice sounded far away. He closed his eyes. “My hands tied. Begging for it. Begging and begging and going nuts. Having to watch a guy fuck himself. Wishing it were me.” Once freed, the words tumbled out. “Or being held down. Fucked. Not being able to move. Only able to beg for more.”

  Cody silenced him with a kiss, a slow slide of lips like Lucas had been dreaming about all week. Cody licked his way into Lucas’s mouth. While he’d talked, want had risen up in Lucas, and now it felt like Cody was drinking all that down, taking in everything Lucas had kept repressed and then giving back some of his own secrets with the power of the kiss.

  “Fuck.” Lucas breathed the word out, his lips moving against Cody’s.

  “Stealing my lines.” Cody laughed. “Want me to show you what it’s like?” He moved against Lucas, his dick rubbing alongside his through their pants.

  “Um.” Lucas’s voice cracked, a high note as far out of his range as what Cody was proposing. His limits were slipping and sliding until he wasn’t sure where his line lay.

  “I don’t mean fucking.” Cody leaned in and licked his neck. “You can stay a virgin.” An unspoken for now hung heavy between them. “But I can give you a . . . preview.”

  “Oh.” A thousand scenarios flashed in Lucas’s head, each dirtier than the last. This was it—the moment when he could suggest th
at they do the jerking off thing instead. The air in the room felt thicker and laced with Cody’s citrus and musk scent. Who’s going to know? What’s the harm of making out a little? Pushing those boundaries a bit more?

  “Want that?” Cody reached down, grabbing the side of Lucas’s ass and squeezing hard.

  Lucas nodded. Yeah, he wanted this. A thousand thoughts rushing through his head, but it all came down to one thought: What if this is my only chance? Embellish had been the last safe group announced tonight, meaning chances were high they’d be eliminated next. He’d be facing a long, lonely fall. Heck, he’d be facing the rest of his real life never knowing what Cody’s skin felt like, what his dick felt like sliding against his own. He stretched up to meet Cody’s searching lips.

  “Want me to go against you?” Cody rocked against Lucas, a hard, dirty grind.

  “Uh . . .” Whatever he was going to say got lost as Cody shoved his shirt upward. He liked Cody being the naked one far more—in high school, Lucas had set land speed records for changing in locker rooms and always wore a shirt to swim. Even after Winston had introduced him to lifting, he didn’t like walking around shirtless.

  But then their bare chests collided, and his sound of protest turned into a moan.

  “You keep thinking about it.” Cody’s laugh was a wicked thing, a tickle that went straight to Lucas’s dick. He ran his hands down Lucas’s chest. “But swear to . . . whatever, if I don’t touch you, I’m going to go nuts.”

  “Yeah.” His hands were still tangled in his T-shirt. Instead of pulling them free, he twisted them further and stretched, arching against Cody.

  “Oh yeah.” Cody reached up and twisted the shirt tighter. “I dig it. You stay just like that.”

  He sat up, still rocking against Lucas’s dick, a slow, sure grind.

  “Yes. Now.” Lucas arched up, trying to prolong the pressure in his dick.

  “Now what?” Cody raised an eyebrow, peering down at Lucas with careful disinterest.

  He couldn’t speak—words battled between what he really wanted and what he could let himself have, and silence hung heavy between them. Cody traced Lucas’s jaw with his thumb.