by Tinnean
His voice became little more than a whisper. “Will you jerk off?”
“Right now?” While he listened? Why, the kinky little devil!
“No, I guess this wouldn’t be a good time.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Besides, I want to be there to watch you. Maybe do it with you.” He cleared his throat. “Will you be able to sleep now, Theo?”
“No. I’m too horny.”
“Good.” A smartass to boot!
“You’re walking a fine line, Matheson,” I said, but I needed to make sure he knew I wasn’t serious. “I… I wish you were here.”
“Yeah, I wish I was there too.”
I suddenly realized that Vincent… his boss… must have been standing right there the whole time we were practically having phone sex. “Oh, geez, is Vince gonna be pissed because I called you on his phone?”
“I’ll let you know if I’m in trouble when I talk to you later.”
“Well, don’t let him give you a hard time. He’s human like the rest of us.”
“If you say so.”
“Trust me. Bye, babe.”
“Bye.”
I hung up the phone, pulled the pillow he’d slept on back into my arms, and fell asleep.
SPIKE WOKE me just before noon, tapping on my door.
“Do you feel up to seeing Paul?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you were up kind of late last night.”
“We woke you, did we?” I stretched and felt my joints pop. It was a satisfying feeling.
“Yeah. At first I thought it was those cats that are always going at it in the backyard. Then I realized it was coming from your room.” He was laughing at me, but I didn’t mind. Paul’s beating had scared the crap out of him. Out of me too. I hadn’t been sure if we were going to lose him.
“Is that why you stopped having johns stay over?”
“Nah. Didn’t Paul tell you about his congressman?”
“Not really.”
“Come on. Let’s get some lunch before we go to the hospital, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Do you want to grab a shower first?”
“No.” Wills’s scent, the scent of last night’s lovemaking, was still on me, and I wanted to hold onto it for a while longer.
“Okay. Hurry and get dressed, then. I’m starved.”
PAUL HAD been moved to another room. “Could you believe that asshole who was in the other bed?”
“I thought he was just a little high-strung.”
He gave me a look. “Are you nuts? He was insane. I’d just been given a shot of Dilaudid and was feeling no pain—literally—but I was with it enough to hear him go off the deep end.”
“Why? No one here knows what we do.”
“It wasn’t about that. It was because we’re gay.”
“Oh, please!”
“I’m not kidding. You missed all the good stuff. I thought he was gonna have a heart attack, especially when Vince showed him his gun.”
“Wait, Vince carries a gun?” It must have something to do with being a troubleshooter.
“Yes, he does. Now, may I finish?”
“Please do,” I said.
“Okay, then. You saw the nurse take him out, right? By the time she brought him back, you guys were gone and I must have been out cold, but he woke me up because he kept pissing and moaning about being in a room with a fag.”
“That son of a bitch.”
He smiled at me. “Thanks, Sweets.”
“Y’know, for someone who had the shit beat out of him yesterday, you’re feisty.”
“It’s the drugs they give you in this place. Almost makes it worthwhile.” He gave a lopsided grin, which was the best he could do. “Spike, come on up here, baby.” He patted the spot beside him on the bed.
An aide came in with a tray. “I have your lunch, Mr. Stark.”
“Thanks.” Paul took the covers off. He seemed less than enthusiastic. “You guys want some of this?”
It looked like mush. “No, that’s okay. We already ate.”
“Bastards,” he muttered, and he began poking at the contents of his bowls with a spoon.
WILLS CALLED me later that afternoon while I was still at the hospital. “If you don’t have any plans, would you like to do dinner tonight?”
I had thought we’d make arrangements for later in the week. Was he already taking it for granted that I’d drop everything for him? Did he think no one wanted to see me? “Let me check my date book.” My voice was cool.
Paul raised an eyebrow. The swelling around his eyes was going down, but he still looked like a raccoon. I turned my back on him.
“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.” Wills sounded let down. “I should have realized…. You’ll be working. Well, maybe another….”
“I just so happen to be free tonight.” I frowned over my shoulder at both Paul and Spike, who were making no attempt to disguise the fact they were listening avidly, or to cover their snickers. “Where do you want me to meet you?”
“I… uh… I thought I’d pick you up?”
It really was going to be like an honest-to-God date! I forgave him for assuming I’d be free. “What time?”
“About eight? That’s not too late, is it?”
“Eight will be fine.”
“Great.” He sounded relieved. “I’ll see you then.”
“Wait a minute. Where are we going?”
“I thought Ruby Tuesday? It’s too late to get reservations for Raphael’s.”
“Okay, I’ll dress casual. See you at eight.” I closed my phone. I could have gotten us a table—the maître d’ was an occasional client—but if Wills wanted to be butch, I didn’t mind. “I won’t be able to come back tonight, Paul. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine, babe. I’m glad you’re finally getting a social life. Assuming he’s not a client?”
“He’s not a client.” Spike grinned at me. “You should have seen them last night! Making out near the cafeteria.”
“You were making out? Was that smart?” Paul looked as concerned as a man with two black eyes and a broken nose could look.
“It was closed for the night, and no one was around.”
“No, I mean kissing him. You always warned us about that.”
“Okay, one—he’s not a client, and two—he’s not a client. How much did you see, Spike?”
“Enough.” Why was it that every time he tried for tough he wound up with naughty? I felt a blush rise up in my cheeks. “And Matheson drove us home, and Sweets brought him up to the apartment, and they had wild monkey sex!”
“Y’know something, Spike?” I groused. “You’ve got a big mouth.”
“That’s why my johns like me.”
Paul looked a little down at those words, so I spun Spike around and swatted his butt.
“Hey! Paul, he’s abusing me!”
“No, he’s not, and if I were better, I’d smack your ass too.”
Spike must have realized something was going on. He climbed back on the bed with Paul and laid his head gently on Paul’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You can spank me as much as you want.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m overreacting.” Paul closed his eyes.
“You have every right to react however you want. You got beat up.” Spike stroked Paul’s chest gently, careful to avoid the side with the drainage tube.
Paul whispered something in his ear, and Spike nuzzled against his lips.
In spite of what happened when I was fifteen, I considered myself a peaceful man. Right now, though, I wanted blood, and I knew from experience it wasn’t hard to kill a man. When Vince got his hands on the son of a bitch who’d done this to Paul, I hoped he’d kill him.
“Well, have fun, Sweets,” Paul said.
“Huh?” Oh, he was talking about my date. “Spike will need a ride home.”
“Vince can drive him.”
“Unless the nurses let me stay?” Spike turned his head to gaze at Paul, his expression hop
eful.
“We’ll ask, baby.”
“Well, I’m going home now,” I said. “I want to start getting ready.”
“Sweets, it’s only five. You’ve got some time.”
“I know. But you know I don’t like to wait until the last minute.”
“Sure, babe. Go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And we’ll want details.” Spike’s laughter followed me out of the room.
I got home in record time and stripped as I hurried to the bathroom. I’d had my torso waxed a few days earlier, so that was something I didn’t have to worry about, and the tan I’d acquired from the tanning bed we’d splurged on gave my skin a warm, rich tone that blended well with my Mediterranean coloring.
I showered, shaved, and dithered about the cologne I should wear before choosing Drakkar Noir. I tried on every outfit I had, twice, finally deciding to go with a preppy look. I wore a pair of brown linen slacks, a white tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up my forearms, and a buff sweater knotted around my neck. A topaz stud went in my right earlobe, a Rolex on my left wrist, and a sterling-silver ID bracelet on my right.
Satisfied with the way I looked, I hung up the outfits I’d rejected. Then I gathered up all the clothes I had shed and stuffed them in the hamper, turned on the TV, and sat down to wait. I smoothed my hair. I had half an hour to spare.
Thirty-five minutes later—five minutes after the time he said he’d show up—and no Wills. I guessed his watch could be running slow.
Ten minutes after that. Had he been held up in traffic? Well, traffic could be a bitch.
Another twenty minutes passed. Had the whole thing been a game? Was I being stood up?
Finally, at eight forty-five, I heard a knock on the door. I contemplated not answering but decided that was too childish. I just wouldn’t bring up the fact that I’d been sitting here waiting for more than an hour.
“Matheson.” I was surprised he didn’t shiver at the coolness in my voice.
It looked like he was wearing the same suit he’d worn this morning. Hadn’t he even bothered to change? I thought with resentment about the time I’d spent getting ready.
“One of the… the ladies on the first… first floor let me in.” He was flushed and out of breath. “I’m… I’m late.”
“Oh? Are you? I had no idea.” I turned and sauntered away, tossing over my shoulder, “Come in if you’re coming in, but you can’t stay long. I have a date.” Which I’d invented just that minute.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I would have…. Wait a…. Wait a second. What do you mean, a date? We have a date!”
“Had a date.” I shrugged. “Time is money, Matheson. When you didn’t show up, I made other arrangements.” He looked hurt, and I turned away. “You could have called.”
“I would have, but I didn’t… didn’t think it would take so….” He was still struggling to catch his breath. “My… my flight was rerouted to National, and… and I didn’t stop to go home and… and change. When I got here someone was parked downstairs, and I… I couldn’t find a spot, and when I… when I did, it was six blocks away, and I know I’m late. I ran—”
“Your flight? You didn’t say anything about being out of town when you called this afternoon.”
His flush became dark red. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said…. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“I didn’t hear that.” I didn’t know why working for Huntingdon would entail a need for secrecy, but I’d had johns who worked for Justice or JAG or even the Bureau. I knew when to keep my mouth shut. “You ran six blocks?”
“Yes.”
“Have you caught your breath?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I also knew when to open it. I slid my hand around his neck, pulled him to me, and kissed him breathless.
“What… what about your date?”
I ducked my head. “I made it up,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Okay, listen, Theo.” He tipped my chin up so our eyes met, and I was surprised he wasn’t pissed. “There… there may be times when I can’t keep a date. I’ll try to call to let you know, but sometimes I won’t be able to.”
All I heard were the words that meant the most… times—plural, and date. We were dating!
I removed my sweater and took my jacket from the closet, trying to keep my smile from revealing how much that meant to me.
He leaned forward and kissed me. “Let’s go to dinner?”
“You bet.”
Chapter 14
SPIKE AND I were in Paul’s hospital room. We were hoping to talk to his doctor to find out if there was a time frame for when we could expect to bring him home, but so far no luck.
Almost all the rent boys came to see him, including that asshole, Charlemagne.
Vincent was there too. Because Paul had groused he was desperate for real food, Vince had ordered enough pizza to feed the entire fourth floor to be delivered to Paul’s room, and we’d all gorged ourselves on pepperoni, bacon and pineapple, white, and supreme, which came loaded with everything.
Paul had only been able to eat part of a single slice.
Now, all that was left in the boxes was a few smears of sauce.
Vince’s cell phone rang. “Vincent. Yes?” He grinned and closed his phone. “Matheson is coming up.”
My heart skipped a beat—it fucking skipped a beat!—at the thought of seeing him again so soon.
“Oh, yeah? Cool.” I tried to be nonchalant about it. He’d slept over the previous night, and I’d had hopes we could spend the day together, but even though it was the weekend, Vince had called and told him to come in. Nothing had been said about another date before he’d left for work that morning.
Although Vince regarded me with a raised eyebrow, he didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t Entertainment This Week on?” I asked.
Paul reached for the remote and pressed the on button. Mary Hart sat across from Bob Goen, her current cohost, and they chatted about a movie being made in conjunction with the military. They’d be interviewing the star as soon as they came back from the commercial break. “I swear that woman still has the most gorgeous legs on TV.”
Eventually Wills sauntered in. God, he was gorgeous. His hair was gelled back. Wearing jeans and a GWU sweatshirt, he looked like a college freshman. My mouth went dry, and I swallowed. Those jeans—501s faded to almost white in spots—hugged his hips and thighs like a second skin. Were they as snug over his ass? I was tempted to turn him around just to see.
I touched my tongue to my upper lip, and he watched my mouth. If I came up with an excuse to get him in the bathroom, would the others in the room realize it was because I wanted to fuck him?
A resident came in just then. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’ll need you to leave for a few minutes. I’m going to check Mr. Stark’s dressing and chest tube.”
We went out into the corridor, but before I could ask Wills if he wanted to join me in the men’s room, Vince said, “Matheson. With me.”
I stared after them as they walked down the corridor. What was that about? Well, Vince was his boss.
And yeah, those jeans were just as snug over Wills’s ass.
“You’ve got it bad,” Spike whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at him.” For Spike—normally oblivious as only a teen could be—to notice, I must have been very obvious.
“Uh….”
“I think it’s cool. You need someone to care about.”
“I care about Paul and you.”
“You know what I mean. And Mr. Matheson cares about you too.”
“Oh, yeah? You think so? I mean, it’s only been a few days.”
His expression became exasperated. “Sweets, I’ve seen the way he looks at you!”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Geez, for the brains of this outfit, you can sure be dense sometimes. Come on. I want to see if the nurse can tell us when Paul can com
e home.”
“Resident, Spike.”
“Whatever.”
Paul was a little shaky after the exam, and Spike went to him, took his hand, and petted his arm.
“When can Paul come home?”
“That’s up to his doctor,” the resident said, not unkindly, as she straightened Paul’s sheet. “Your tube is still draining, Mr. Stark, but your vitals are stable, and I’m sure your doctor will be very pleased with your progress.” Paul gave a tight nod, and she eyed him thoughtfully. “Be sure to ring if you need anything. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Vince went to Paul’s bedside. “I have to leave. I’ll be in sometime tomorrow to see you, but I have plans for the afternoon, so it’ll probably be late.”
“No, Vince, that’s okay. You’ve been taking care of so much, it’s all right if you miss a day. If there’s anything I can do to repay you…. Thank you. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. If you really want to do something for me, keep an ear out for a vacant apartment. That fuck of a complex manager is throwing me out!”
“I should have realized you’d need to look for another apartment. They get kind of testy when you blow up their rentals.” Paul laughed at the expression on Vince’s face.
He’d told us it hadn’t been his fault that the bastard who’d hurt Paul, doing it as a ruse to get Vince away from his apartment so he could search it—a ruse, goddammit! I was glad the fucking bastard had blown himself to kingdom come—had caused the explosion when he’d tried to get in. Still, as landlords, we could kind of sympathize with the manager.
“Your old apartment above us is for rent again, if you want to take it for a while.”
“It’s empty, or are you going to evict someone?”
Just before Paul had wound up in the hospital, the artist who’d taken over the attic apartment had packed her bags and moved out in the middle of the night while we’d all been out working, leaving a note under the door, telling us she’d been offered the opportunity to go to Paris and we should keep the security deposit and the paintings we’d find stacked against the wall. She’d left the place in a shambles, paint splatters and dried clay all over the floor, chunks gouged out of the wall—what in hell had she been doing? All the sinks were clogged, and in the kitchen food was burned on the stove and getting moldy in the fridge. We were lucky we weren’t plagued with ants and roaches as a result. All in all, it looked as if a minor war had been fought in the place. The security deposit would barely cover the repair work needed, the paintings were worthless as far as I was concerned, and there was no forwarding address, so we wouldn’t be able to bill her.
