by Jerry Cole
Steve hauled Bobby out of the chair and onto the couch next to him, pulling him into his lap. Bobby went willingly, curling his arms around Steve’s neck, and leaned in, grinning as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, tilting his head to turn it sloppy and wet, tongue sliding perfectly against Steve’s. Steve grunted, shifting enough that Bobby slipped forward, hips pressed to Steve’s. He could feel Bobby’s dick thicken up, his fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into Bobby’s touch.
“I know,” Bobby told him. “That’s done with, all right? We’re fine.”
“When will Helena be back?” Steve asked, pulling away only long enough to look Bobby in the eye.
Bobby stared at him, lips quirking up into a smirk, and he stroked a hand through Steve’s hair, tightening his grip and dragging him in for a deep kiss, biting at his bottom lip. Steve groaned into his mouth, hips rolling up, dragging perfectly against the tightness of Bobby’s pants. Bobby whimpered, and Steve took advantage, arm tight around Bobby’s waist, holding him in place, while he moved his hips.
“Steve,” Bobby groaned, turning his face into Steve’s temple and panting as Steve worked a hand between them, sliding Bobby’s sweatpants down slowly. “Please, Steve.”
“All right,” Steve said, free hand holding Bobby’s head in place so that he could kiss him, a slow slide of his tongue, and teeth nipping at Bobby’s bottom lip. Bobby was eager to respond, breathing harshly as Steve’s hand curled into his briefs, sliding against the shaft of his dick.
“Fuck,” Bobby groaned, shuddering as Steve started up a steady pace, thumb sliding against the head, precum smeared against the skin of his shaft.
“I’ve got you,” Steve promised. He kept a steady pressure on Bobby’s cock, the circle of his fingers loose, then tightening, trying to find the perfect speed to drive Bobby crazy. It was a work in progress, and Steve was enjoying the journey to find out just what he loved most.
“Steve,” Bobby said, “Steve, Steve, please.”
The litany of Steve’s name shifted into moans and whimpers as Bobby’s hips jerked, almost of his own accord, mouth sloppy against Steve’s, eyes closed. Steve couldn’t help but watch his face, the way Bobby’s body seemed to curl in on itself around Steve, hand fisting the material of Steve’s shirt, as if uncertain if he wanted Steve closer or further away from him.
“I need,” Bobby breathed.
“I love you,” Steve said, timing the words with a twist of his wrist, and Bobby gave a fully body shudder, gasping out something that might have been Steve’s name, but was just a groan, collapsing on top of Steve. Steve worked him through the orgasm, the little twitches of Bobby’s cock and body, until Bobby’s trying to twist away from Steve. “Please.”
Steve took his hand from Bobby’s pants, and wiped it on his own shirt, swallowing thickly, his own cock straining against the confines of his jeans.
Bobby huffed a breath against Steve’s neck, started working the skin between his lips and teeth, and Steve let his head fall back against the top of the couch, giving Bobby access to the stretch of tendons, the hint of collarbone exposed as Steve’s shirt shifted away from his shoulder.
“You’re so hot,” Bobby said, licking at the skin he was biting, and Steve shuddered, startling when Bobby pressed the palm of his free hand to Steve’s clothed dick. “Look at you,” Bobby continued, pulling back as if to highlight his point. Steve could feel the heat rise in his neck, his cheeks, but that only seemed to spur Bobby on, his eyes dark, lip darting out to lick at his bottom lip. “Fuck, how’d I get so lucky, huh?”
“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” Steve managed, swallowing as Bobby’s mouth moved from Steve’s neck, to his collarbone, hands shifting under the hem of Steve’s shirt.
“Nope,” Bobby said decisively, and pulled back abruptly. Steve whimpered, Bobby laughing gently as he leaned in for a kiss. “Easy, big guy. Come on, into the bedroom. I wanna take my time with this.” He gave Steve’s cock a squeeze as if to emphasize the point, and Steve grunted, immediately started to stand, Bobby laughing as he tried to get his feet under him. “Someone’s eager.”
“You know I am,” Steve answered, backing Bobby up toward the room he’d seen Bobby come out of before, unable to part. “I always want you.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Bobby said, hooking an arm around Steve’s neck and hauling him into the bedroom. “I have plans for you, handsome.”
Steve couldn’t wait to find out what they were.
Chapter Eleven
“So, have you figured out who your subject is gonna be yet?” Jamie was sitting next to him on the subway, flipping through a magazine he’d found on the seat beside them.
Steve shrugged, playing a stupid game on his phone, mostly to pass the time, but also to check on his messages in case they came in. Ever since he and Bobby had said the three little words that carried so much weight, they had been what Sam and Jamie called disgustingly affectionate which they—and Helena and Noah—had been calling them all along, just with slightly more venom.
Jamie hummed in the back of his throat and flipped again. “Did Bobby not want to be the focus?”
“He said he would be, if it was what I wanted,” Steve pointed out. “I haven’t decided yet whether I even wanna do it.”
“You should,” Jamie said pointedly, turning away from the magazine and raising his eyebrows. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you know for sure that someone’s gonna see it and wanna offer you something.”
Steve had been thinking about that. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do with his life, only that sketching, and photographs, were the path he wanted to go down. “What if I’m not good enough?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jamie said. “Have you seen your shit? You know you’re good, Stevie.”
Flushing, Steve shrugged and changed games, just to force himself to pay attention to something else. Jamie sighed, going back to his magazine. They lapsed into a silence that was comfortable, and when Steve was done with his games, moved through to his messages, shooting one off to Bobby, hoping he was having a good day.
“Shit,” Jamie said, breaking the silence.
“What?” Steve peered across. The magazine was open on a double-page spread, though Steve didn’t recognize the woman staring back at them from the pages. She had her arms folded, looked respectable and not unlike the way a politician might look, or the royals in the articles if Steve had bothered to read about them. “Who is that?”
Jamie was frowning, his eyes darting across the page. “President Lecachov.”
“Okay?” Steve started, not quite sure what the problem was. “Who’s she?”
“President of Russia,” Jamie said, rolling his eyes.
“Duh,” Steve said, socking Jamie in the shoulder. “Why does that have you saying shit and looking weird?”
“Look,” Jamie said, pointing to a section of the article.
President Lecachov’s daughter, Helena, is currently in the United States at college, and though she is studying under an alias to protect her identity, there are rumors that she is in New York. When asked about it, Lecachov just raises a smooth eyebrow. “I would never compromise the safety of my daughter by answering that question.”
Steve frowned. “I only know one Helena.”
“Helena Gregoravich,” Jamie said, and Steve wasn’t sure of her surname, but he assumed Jamie was right. “I thought you didn’t like Bobby or his friends?”
Jamie stared at Steve, incredulous, but Steve didn’t know what he was talking about. “Steve, I’m dating Helena.”
“Bobby’s Helena?”
“Yes,” Jamie said. Whatever, how was Steve supposed to know that? Jamie never said her name whenever he spoke about her, and Steve was certain it had never come up with Bobby. Unless it had and he was just being dumb. It could have been a combination of both. “Helena Gregoravich is Helena Lecach
ov.”
Steve took the magazine from Jamie’s hands and stared at the article, but that was the only mention of Helena. “How can you be sure? Do you know how many Helena’s there are, and this doesn’t actually say she’s in New York?”
“Her accent is definitely Eastern European or Russian, but she’s not so forthcoming about her past.”
“Neither are you,” Steve pointed out. “It’s a big leap to make.”
“Yeah,” Jamie agreed, but he still looked troubled. Steve handed him back the magazine.
With a sigh, he nudged Jamie’s shoulder. “You could always just ask her. I doubt she’d be mad at you. She did give Bobby and I the shove we needed to get our shit back together.”
“Pretty sure that was Jackie,” Jamie pointed out, but he sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
Sam agreed with Steve, when they got back to the apartment and had filled him in on the magazine. “I don’t know man, it’s a long shot.”
“Like I said,” Steve pressed. “Ask her. Or I could ask Bobby.”
Jamie looked horrified. “What makes you think Bobby knows? Or would even tell you.”
Sam snorted. “Are you kidding? Bobby would give Steve anything if he asked for it.”
It was true enough and Steve couldn’t deny it. Talk of Helena went on into the afternoon and Steve rolled his eyes, tired of the back and forth, so he sent a message to Bobby.
Hey. Jamie found this article about Helena’s mom. At least he thinks so.
“I asked Bobby,” Steve said. Jamie gave him a dirty look, but Sam grinned, giving Steve the thumbs up. “Sure.”
The one about President Lecachov? Helena’s pissed. Said her mom as good as confirmed it.
Steve showed the message to Jamie, who blew out a breath. Scowling, he was still furious Helena hadn’t told him, but it took Steve and Sam combined to convince him that he should talk to her, and he doesn’t have a right to know anything about her if she doesn’t want to share it.
“I guess,” Jamie said. He was sulking, so Steve left Sam with him, retreating to his bedroom and flopping back on the bed.
How did you and Helena meet?
Now that he knew Helena was the Russian President’s daughter, he was consumed with intrigue about Bobby’s relationship with her and Noah, and how they discovered each other. Especially if Helena was only in America for school.
Can’t remember. We grew up together in Europe and when she moved here, I came with.
Steve had no reason to doubt Bobby, and even though it was the first time he was hearing about Bobby growing up in Europe, Steve appreciated the fact Bobby was willing to be honest.
Same with me and Jamie. His family’s Romanian but he’s lived here his whole life. I think he’s a little annoyed she didn’t tell him anything, but we’ve been setting him straight.
Idiots, Bobby replied. Helena’s worried he’s gonna break up with her if he finds out.
Definitely idiots. But at least we’re fine?
We definitely are ??
That was all Steve needed. They continued to talk, Steve putting on the TV in the background, and spending the rest of the night texting with his boyfriend. Putting Jamie and Helena’s drama out of his head, Steve focused instead on Bobby.
I think I’ve decided on the whole showcase thing.
Yeah? You gonna do it?
Steve grinned. Yeah. I want you to be my subject.
It took a while for Bobby to answer, and Steve felt the nervousness settle low in his belly, and he swallowed thickly, wondering whether he had just made a mistake. The TV wasn’t enough to distract him, but thankfully he didn’t have long to wait before Bobby’s message came through.
You don’t have to ask. You know I would.
The nervousness gave way to excitement and happiness, and Steve couldn’t stop grinning as he replied, not even sure what he was saying, only that he couldn’t wait to get started with his project now, knowing Bobby was going to be the focus. He was a gorgeous man, and Steve was already envisioning the many ways he could photograph Bobby in a way that would make an excellent sketch.
The next morning, they met up for coffee before class, and Steve immediately tugged Bobby in for a kiss, smiling too wide for it to be comfortable.
“What was that for?”
“Because I love you,” Steve said, without fear. “I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?”
Bobby’s expression softened. He left his hand on Steve’s waist. “Of course you are. I love you too.”
Steve didn’t think his heart would ever stop fluttering when he heard those words from Bobby.
Bobby laughed gently. “That expression you get every time I say it. How could I not love you?”
“Stop it,” Steve said, feeling the flush curling up his neck, and he leaned in for another kiss.
“I can’t,” Bobby replied, falling into step with Steve, a hand in Steve’s back pocket, which seemed to be his favorite thing to do. Steve wrapped an arm around Bobby’s shoulders, and the two of them headed for campus. “Do you have your camera on you?”
“Always do,” Steve admitted. “I haven’t used it in a while. But I always make sure I have it with me. I never know when inspiration is gonna hit.”
“Well,” Bobby offered, “if it ever hits when you’re out with me, snap away, gorgeous.”
Steve laughed, slipping his free hand into his pocket, and upset he was going to have to part from Bobby, even if it was only for classes. Which was dumb, because Steve didn’t want to become one of those people obsessed with their partner. He loved Bobby too much to let that happen. “You might regret giving me that power.”
Bobby shrugged easily, leaning up to kiss Steve’s neck. “I don’t think so.”
Steve did find inspiration. Later that afternoon, when they were both done with classes and were meeting up for a late lunch, there was a moment when Bobby was sitting on one of the tables with Jamie and Helena, legs on either side of the bench, and laughing. It was the perfect shot, and Steve took his time with the picture, chest tightening with how gorgeous he looked, how great the picture was.
It came out well, though Steve was definitely going to take his time editing that one, and shoved his camera back in his bag, jogging across the quad to the benches.
“Hey,” he said, dropping a kiss on Bobby’s head, and sitting next to Jamie. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Bobby’s eyes were bright, and he hummed thoughtfully. “Never without you.”
Helena rolled her eyes, and even Jamie pretended to throw up. Steve resisted the urge to flip them both off, and instead, leaned across the bench to haul Bobby in for a kiss.
“I took my first photo.”
Bobby’s eyes widened, but he looked pleased, a little curious, but didn’t ask questions. Helena and Jamie, however, did, demanding to know when this had been decided. Jamie was irritated he hadn’t been told but amused now Steve was going to follow Bobby around to get the best shots.
“You’re an idiot,” Steve proclaimed.
“Don’t turn into a stalker,” Bobby said, pretending to be worried. “I would hate for you to become a paparazzo.”
“Excuse me,” Steve said, narrowing his eyes. “That’s insulting.”
“You’re too good to become one of those vultures,” Jamie pointed out.
Bobby nodded, pointing at Jamie as if to reemphasize his point. “That. Your subject is pretty damn great as well.”
Everyone laughed, and Steve grinned, moving benches to sit next to Bobby. Helena rolled her eyes, but willingly did the same, to take Steve’s place next to Jamie. Bobby shoved against Steve, until Steve placed his arm over Bobby’s shoulders.
“Gross,” Helena said.
“Definitely,” Jamie agreed.
“Fuck off,” Bobby said, laughing.
Chapter Twelve
“Noah said his parents are famous in Europe,” Steve pointed out. “Is that true?”
Curled up on the couch with him, Bobby w
as splayed out over Steve’s legs and stomach, head pillowed on Steve’s chest, and he shrugged awkwardly. “Noah’s full of shit most of the time, but yeah, that’s true. I think they were politicians in England or something.”
Steve frowned. “You know some pretty famous people. Was your mom famous too?”
Bobby froze for a moment, though when Steve risked a look, his eyes were still on the TV. He didn’t look pissed off, and eventually he relaxed. “Mom and Dad were both pretty important, but I try not to think about it. I don’t wanna be like that, and Helena and Noah don’t either. There’s a reason we’re all in the US and trying to run away from our families.”
“Is Bobby Connors your real name?”
“Steve,” Bobby said, shifting so that he could look Steve in the eye. “I promise you, everything I’ve told you about myself, about my parents, is the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, and I promised I would answer your questions.”
“I know,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Bobby settled back against him, and Steve ran his hand through Bobby’s hair soothingly.
“I’m still sorry,” Steve told him, half-watching the TV, the rest of his attention on Bobby. “I trust you, you know that right?”
Bobby was smiling, fingers curled around Steve’s shirt, and he nodded. “Yeah, I know it. It’s the only reason I keep answering your questions.”
Steve laughed, and the two of them lapsed into silence as they continued their film. They hadn’t had time to themselves for a couple of days, busy with schoolwork and their friends, and Steve left the subject alone, wanting his time with Bobby to be easy.
He had still managed to snap a few pictures along the way, though he didn’t have enough for his show quite yet. The first one he had taken was still his favorite, and even if he managed to find something else to take a picture of, Steve doubted he would want to sketch anything else.
“Could we go on a date?” Steve asked.
Bobby peered up at him, frowning. “Don’t we do that a lot?”
