by Willa Okati
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
The Name of the Game
TOP SHELF
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright Ó 2006 by Willa Okati
Cover illustration by Rose Lenoir
Published with permission
ISBN: 1-934166-76-6, 978-1-934166-76-5
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: February 2007
Printed in the USA
Chapter One
"What next?"
"Are we on the clock?" Anthony stretched luxuriantly, arching his back. His toes flexed and curled against the soft quilt he lay on. "You realize you don't have to stop what you're doing. I could go on like this for hours. Your hands…"
Clay skated his fingers up Anthony's slender legs and grinned, his smile made for doing wicked things in the dark. "I want to know. Everything he did, I want to do better. Come on. Teach me. Or don't you think I can learn?"
"You're already one hundred percent above his standards."
Clay chuckled. God, he loved teasing Toni. The game never got old. Besides, he had a certain standard to meet. "Oh, no, not good enough," he chided. "I have to be at least twice the man he was. Go on. Tell me what he did after that."
"He kissed me." Anthony tilted his head up. Clay moved with the flexing of his body and balanced above the man. He brought his mouth down to Anthony's, brushing lips across lips in a gentle, feather light touch. Anthony moaned softly when Clay's tongue flickered out, too briefly, he knew, to be satisfying. "More."
Anthony reached for Clay, angling for a kiss. The scent of Anthony, already growing aroused, spicy cologne and some woodsy body powder and man was a heady aphrodisiac to Clay's nose. It'd been a long, long time since he'd been with anyone who appreciated him the way Toni did.
Grinning to himself, Clay combed his fingers through Anthony's hair. "This is beautiful," he said, tangling the strands and then separating them out. "Sunshine color. The way the sun looks on rainy days when it's just coming out from behind the clouds."
Anthony licked his lips. "I'm a bottle blond."
"Oh?" Clay raised an eyebrow. "Do I get to find out for sure?"
"Play your cards right."
"What next, then? Keep on telling me. I have a memory to erase."
"Big, strong man."
"You bet. Go on."
"He touched me," Anthony said simply. "All over. He acted like he couldn't get enough. But he was fast, really fast. I wanted slow."
Clay lifted himself up into a kneeling position, braced on either side of Anthony's narrow hips. His hands, big and strong from the hard work he did, rested on Anthony's shoulders. He began to massage them gently, digging in with the pads on his thumbs. "Like this?"
Anthony sighed, a soft ragged sound, and shifted with pleasure. "Oh, yes."
Clay moved on, skating down the soft skin and lean strength of Anthony's arms. "All this muscle… it shows that you work for a living," he murmured. "Did he touch you everywhere?" He hovered near Anthony's navel, circling it with one finger. "As in, everywhere?"
Anthony licked his lips, staring up at Clay through darkened eyes. "Everywhere."
"Like this?" Clay slipped his hand beneath Anthony's royal blue tank top, feeling his stomach contract as Clay's hand ran across it, up to his bared chest. Anthony shivered and made a low sound as Clay ran calloused fingertips across one nipple. "Easy, baby, easy. I won't hurt you."
"You could never hurt me." Anthony swallowed hard. "Next?"
"Next."
"His mouth. On me. Just there."
Clay teased with his fingers. "Where I am right now?" He moved, the fabric of the bed rustling as he bent down for one more kiss on the corner of Anthony's mouth. "Or here?"
"There," Anthony whispered. "On me."
"Then I've got to match him, move for move," Clay said. Gently, he pushed the dark blue fabric of Anthony's tank away from his chest. Palming the left pectoral, working it lightly with a velvet and leather touch, he bent down to first kiss, then nip at the swelling bud of Anthony's other nipple. He sucked it briefly into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue, then drew the whole of the dark circle between his lips.
"Oh, God!" Anthony moved beneath Clay, tossing his head to-and-fro on the soft cotton pillow Clay had given him to make sure he was comfortable. "Clay. Fuck, Clay. Please."
Clay lifted his mouth away. "You like this?" The sound of Anthony's quick breathing was all the response he needed. Clay gave Anthony's tit one last hard kiss, then moved his mouth away from it. "What next?"
"Fingers. All over me. Can you -- will you?"
"I aim to please." Clay shifted, adjusting his erection so that it rested against Anthony's thigh. He gave Anthony another glittering look. "Did he do this, too?"
"You're bigger. And better. Much better." Anthony writhed against him. "More."
"Like this?" Clay swirled his hands over Anthony's body. Wherever there was cloth, he moved it aside. Going for improvisation, he kissed wherever his fingers had gone, leaving a trail of small red marks in his wake. He tongued the small bruises down Anthony's arms, across his lower belly, and then moved to his thighs, so soft, yet hard with jogger's muscles.
"You feel so good," he whispered. "This is better than anything I've had in a long time."
Anthony managed to laugh. "Whose fault is that?"
"Mine. I should have done this sooner." Clay had slithered down the length of Anthony's body. He crouched at his feet, holding out his hand, not quite making contact with Anthony's body. "Where else did he touch you?"
Anthony looked at Clay and grinned. "Where do you think?"
"I suspect the fact that you're still wearing your cutoffs is stopping me from going there."
"Is that all?"
"Anthony…" Clay stopped to breathe in and steady himself. "What next?"
Anthony laughed. "Either you go for the gold, or I hit you with a pillow for being such a tease. I'll be damned. The cliché is true. Best friends do make better lovers."
"Too bad you can't turn me into your knight in shining armor, baby." Clay bent down for one more kiss. He couldn't manage to hide his grin. "The way you look and move, Toni." He sighed. "If I weren't determined to preserve our buddyhood, I would so be getting lucky tonight."
Toni gave him a look he had seen on more than one bedmate's face: pure annoyance mixed with the good humor he seemed to inspire in most people. He jerked the pillow out from beneath his head and smacked Clay with it. Lightly. "Tease."
"Oh!" Dramatic, pretending Anthony had wounded him, Clay twisted and collapsed next to his best friend, laid out like a Christmas present on his bed. "I'm a goner," he said, hand pressed to his heart. "I've lost my touch with the menfolk."
Toni lifted himself onto one elbow. He lightly tapped his fist to Clay's nose. "You really are a jerk, you know."
"I wouldn't say that. I jerk off plenty, sure, but --"
"What about this?" Anthony gestured at his body. "You do a pretty good imitation of a man who has all it takes to get some." His gaze dipped lower, lingering over Clay's groin. "Is that a ruler in your pocket, or are you happy to see me? Friendship, huh?"
&n
bsp; Clay shrugged and gave Toni a look calculated to annoy seven kinds of hell out of him. "I was picturing Brad Pitt."
"Oh -- you!" Toni pounced on Clay, tackling him with all his hundred and thirty pounds of hard, lean weight. Clay gave a loud oof sound before flinging his arms around Anthony and wrestling.
"I can take you," Anthony boasted, evading Clay's attempts to pin his hands. "You think you're man enough for me?"
"Thought I was twice the guy of your last date." Clay finally managed to subdue Toni, who lay laughing beneath him. The flush of arousal was fading from the man's cheeks, but Clay could still see his lips were swollen from their kisses, and feel how hard his nipples were. "Hey, hon. Did I go too far? I'm sorry if I -- well, you know what I -- I'm sorry. It was just a game."
"I know." Anthony reached up to caress his cheek. "You're a goofball. And a sorry loss for one-half of the population of this bedroom. Good news, though -- you wiped out the memory of that awful last date. And I can definitely pronounce you a Don Juan in bed." Anthony mimicked pressing a seal to Clay's forehead. "Anthony's Stamp of Approval. Absolutely guaranteed to give you the time of your life."
Clay touched his head. "Does that stay? Is it clear to the naked, gay eye? Will it get naked gay men to eye me?"
"It could happen."
"Dear God, please." Clay rolled off Toni, flopping down beside him. "I've been keeping company with my own hand for so long Mr. Happy is about to declare a moratorium on Rosie Palm and her five daughters."
"Rosie, huh? No wonder you wanted a sample, you tramp. You've been seeing six women on the side. About time for a little of your own kind."
"Yep," Clay agreed happily. He stretched himself, a good long arch from stem to stern, head to bare toes, as he burrowed down into the soft quilt. "Oh, hey, how do you like this? I got it on special at the hippie shop downtown."
"Jesus, which hippie shop?"
"The one where they serve you herbal tea and some kind of veggie biscuits if you spend enough." Clay stroked his bed cover approvingly. "They made this up themselves. Hand quilting. You just don’t get that kind of handiwork anymore."
Anthony made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Yeah, you're gay. Aptitude in bed aside -- definitely gay."
"How gay?"
"Any more spin on it and you'd burst into flames." Anthony turned on his side and faced Clay. He ducked in quickly for one last kiss, pressing down hard. Lips were lips, and Clay couldn't help rising to them, moving back against Anthony's mouth.
Anthony drew away, grinning. "That's to remember me by. And one more thing. If I ever ask you to erase the memory of a bad one night stand from my mind, do it with tequila. I'd have more to regret the morning after, but this isn't exactly safe for either of us."
Clay felt his face warm. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't you dare apologize. This was the best I've had in a long time. I'm not saying I don't regret the lack of a grand finale, but you? You're number one with a bullet." Anthony cocked his head. "So why haven't you been on a date in almost six months?"
"If I had a nickel for every time I'd asked myself that, I'd be a very rich man."
"Hmph." Anthony drummed his fingers on the quilt. "This is really nice. Crushed velvet? Silk? Linen? Bet they made this out of cast-off dresses. I'm going to steal it, just so you know. And by the way, we have to do something about finding you some action." His grin became predatory. "We, Sir Clay, are going to find you a date, toot sweet, and then we're going to work on me."
"I thought we just did."
"Do you want to get popped again?" Anthony made a threatening fist. Clay backed down, waving his hands. "Didn't think so. Good."
Anthony rolled across the quilt, displaying the curve of a toned ass which, Clay had to admit, would tempt any man to go for the home run. He opened Clay's bedside drawer, blinked for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Hey, don't make fun of my buddies."
"God, how many friends does a man need? A gay man should have maybe two or three of these. Plus a butt plug. Possibly something double-headed if he has a playful type in his life. But this?"
Anthony reached into the drawer and pulled out a realistically-shaped dildo. He waved the penis at Clay like a snake. A very firm snake. "Three, max. Not thirteen, of varying sizes, shapes, and from what I can tell, flexibility."
"You're giving me lessons on what I should have in my nightstand? You're a sex bunny who enjoys no lack of company. Maybe one cordless multispeed is all you want for those nights when you're alone, but --"
"No but. And no butts, either. Hon, this is just sad." Anthony tossed the fake cock down between them. It rolled sadly toward Clay like a lonely puppy in search of its master.
He petted it. Ah, my trusty number nine. Gooood boy.
"I wouldn't say that," Clay protested. "I could be out there like all the other lonely guys my age, looking for some company. Anyone with a cock works for those types."
"And this is a problem?"
"Well, not so much a problem, no." Clay pulled Anthony toward him, letting the slight man snuggle onto his shoulder. He tossed the dildo aside, although he made sure it didn't roll off his comfy mattress onto the floor. "You're young, cute, and hung. You have it easy."
"Easy!"
"Okay, okay. There's nothing about the dating life that's simple to deal with. I give you that point. But let's face it -- you have no shortage of men in your life. For one, you've got a buddy who's willing to cuddle and comfort you after really bad sex."
Anthony snorted, but instead of elbowing him, curled closer around Clay. "Yeah. Life wouldn't be the same without you." An idea seemed to strike. He angled his neck to look up at Clay. "Bars. Why don't you go to them anymore?"
"Eh…" Clay waggled his hand. "You've heard of what happens with me and cruising, right?"
"I've heard of your admiration for Tom Cruise."
"I should be so lucky," Clay muttered. "Okay. Back to the basics."
"Gay 101."
"Class is in. Here's your basic cruise: say, walking down the street. You see a really hot guy with ripped abs, a toned ass, fantastic legs --"
"Hey! No fantasizing about others when you have someone who fits the qualifications right here."
"You and I aren't meant to be, sweetie."
"I could buy you another toy and name it after me."
"It's just not the same."
"Damn."
Clay kissed the top of his friend's curly hair. "You gave it a shot. But okay, back to your basic cruise. You pass this hunka, hunka delicious love, but you don't know anything about him. Gay? Straight? Who can tell? It's not like we go around with pink triangle T-shirts." He shuddered. "Anyone I'd want to cruise back, that is."
"So? Keep talking, Professor."
"Well, hopefully you make eye contact as he passes by. Wait to the count of three, maybe four, then stop and look back. If he's stopped, too, and he's looking at you, you might just be in for a rockin' good time."
"Pretty much the way I understand the game. Sounds simple." Anthony nudged his chin into Clay's chest. "So why don't you just go for a lot of long walks?"
"Who walks anymore now that they have this newfangled thing called a horseless carriage? Ow!"
"You deserved it. Okay. Back to my original point. Why not cruise at bars?"
"Because you don't notice it, being too busy getting snapped up by the first young thing that spots you, but for a guy like me a gay bar looks like a track meet. Everyone's walking around in circles, desperately cruising every single guy in there. You could go cross-eyed from everyone giving you a look."
"And? I'm failing to see the bad part."
"Huh. Either you really do get snagged right away or you haven't been in a gay bar in a while."
"It's been a few weeks. I only go with you, and for the past while you wouldn't go with me."
"Honey, my little queen, I'm glad to have you hang out with my thirty-something self. Other men might not be so understanding. The last thing I wa
nt is to fight over you."
Anthony sulked. "That's not fair. You're denying us both the pleasure of eye candy. Everyone's just so gorgeous in those places!"
"Stereotyping. Shame on you; you should know better. You know what it's like to be a human gay man. We are definitely not all perfect tens. We're just guys, like everyone else. Fat, skinny, tall, short, hairy, smooth, toned, tubby -- more flavors than ice cream. And the ones cruising the bars, well…" He shrugged. "They're just like me, except maybe more so. All of them lonely. Looking for Mr. Perfect. That isn't what I'm in for. I want someone who wants me back for a reason, not because I have a fantastic ass."
"It is pretty remarkable. And I know asses." Anthony gave Clay's hip a playful pinch. "Fine, walks and bars are out. What about parties? I know you've talked about that underground club downtown."
