by Tara Lain
“Thatta boy. Come on.” She took his hand and led the way across the sand and lawn to the canvas structures serving as the players’ rest and dressing area. Her husband went for refreshments, so just the two of them slipped into the area designated by the Australian flag.
Inside the tent, guys were sitting in beach chairs, reprising the earlier matches, sipping water and sodas, and eating from a buffet lunch laid out on long tables. No Goliath present, but over in the corner, wiping sweat from his sigh-worthy body, stood Gareth.
David stopped just inside the entrance. Did Gareth really want him here? Hell, he’d have come just for the view, but his being there could be dangerous for Gareth.
Carolyn walked up to her son, who pulled the towel off his neck. Gareth did a cute little dance to get his sweaty body away from his mom, but she gave him a huge hug anyway. A cool mom, and he was clearly delighted to see her.
Gareth looked up, and his eyes met David’s. For a minute he stared; then a big smile lit his face. “Hi.”
David had to smile back. He walked forward a few steps. “Hi to you too.”
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I didn’t either.”
Gareth left his mom’s side and walked to David, a smile making happy crinkles around the pale blue of his eyes. He raised a hand as if to touch David’s face, but David stepped back just enough to avoid it and flashed a glance to the side, where several guys ate—and watched. Way to get mugged by a ravening band of homophobic volleyball players.
For a second Gareth looked confused, and then he grinned. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.”
“I see my mom took you under her wing.”
“Yes, she’s great, actually. Does she do this often?” He raised a brow.
“What?”
“Entertain the guys you invite to your games?”
He glanced at his bare, sandy feet. “I’ve never asked anyone before, so she has no practice.” He looked up with that saucy smile. “Glad she’s good at it.”
“What the bloody fuck is he doing here?” The raucous voice came from behind David.
David froze. The nightmare he knew was coming had arrived. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
Edge pushed through the canvas flap carrying a cardboard container that smelled like tacos.
Gareth looked at his partner. “He’s here because I invited him.”
Edge put the tacos on a bench and took a couple of belligerent steps forward. “What do you mean, you invited him? How do you even know him? How the fuck could you invite him?” By this time, all the guys in the room who hadn’t been watching joined the audience.
Gareth seemed calm. “I saw him at a restaurant last night and invited him. This is David.”
David noted a couple of missing steps in that story, but he wasn’t going to interrupt for the world.
“I don’t care if he’s the bloody fucking prime minister. Why would you bring him here?”
Gareth smiled what David thought of as beatifically. “Because he’s my friend.”
“Friend? He’s a bloody fucking fag.”
There was a beat.
A pause.
The world held its breath. Or maybe that was just David.
Gareth still smiled. “Yes, Edge. So am I.”
Every mouth on every face in the room fell open like a school of fish. Well, bloody fucking hell, to borrow a phrase, the man had done it.
HEART STOPPED. Edge stared at Gareth and tried to make sense of the words. What did he mean, “So am I?” So am I a—? His feet stepped back—all by themselves. No. Not possible. That would be—
Then he ran. Out of the tent, across the parking lot. On the grass, his stomach quit and he tossed up what little he’d eaten that day. He wiped his mouth and looked up. No one came to check on him. Of course not. The person who would have been concerned for him was the cause of his puking. A fag. His partner was a fag. No. No. His friend. His best friend. And that guy was the reason. That fairy from the beach somehow got to Gareth. Made him believe he was—something he couldn’t be. What could that mean? What had he done to him? Oh shit, his stomach heaved again, and he tried to vomit up the pictures in his head with the contents of his stomach.
Chapter Five
SHIT!
Two hours later Gareth stalked off the sand toward the bleachers, wiping his head with a towel. He’d smiled and shaken the hands of the Brazilian team—the team who’d just beaten him and Edge—but only by two fucking points. If Edge hadn’t shied away like he had leprosy every time Gareth got close to him, they might have won. Would have.
My own damned fault. Should have waited to tell him. But the words had just fallen out, like they’d been pushing against his lips and couldn’t stay inside anymore. Hearing Edge insult David hurt like a wound in his own heart. He couldn’t let David stand there and take it for him. He had to share the pain. You knew this would happen. You let it happen.
Edge had run off the court as soon as the game ended, without even a handshake. Good riddance. The bastard. Still, he had to be hurting. Gareth had chosen David over his best friend.
Scooting by a bunch of stragglers, his mom and Parker slid out of the stands. David followed but hung back.
His mom wrapped Gareth in a huge hug. “I’m so sorry, darling. That was pretty inexcusable behavior, even for Edge.”
“Yeh. I should have waited, but—”
“Bull. You didn’t come out too early. You came out about seven years too late. Most of your other teammates swallowed it okay. Some of them were great. Why should Edge be Mr. Special?”
David’s voice came from over his mom’s shoulder. “He might feel like you lied to him. He’s probably hurt that you hid from him.”
Gareth extended a hand, and David took it. Gareth squeezed. “I appreciate you trying to understand him after he was so shitty to you.”
David shrugged. “He scares me witless, but I’ve been out for a long time. I’ve seen it all.”
His mom practically spit fire. “I don’t want you being even a little afraid of Edge, David. He can damned well respect my son enough to be kind to his friends.”
David’s hand tensed in Gareth’s. “Thank you, but I’ve had some up-close experience with mean guys. It’s hard to trust them, ever.”
Gareth shook his head. “Edge isn’t mean. He’s actually rather kind. But between his father and my father, he got his head filled with bullshit about how horrible and evil it is to be a fag.”
His mom frowned. “It’s time he thought for himself.”
“Yeh. I guess you’re right.”
David glanced at his watch. “Damn. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to be late for the pageant if I don’t hurry.”
His mom squealed, “Oh you’re in the pageant? That’s so exciting.”
Gareth grinned. “You’re right about that.” He looked at David. “Can I see you later?”
David looked kind of shy. “Your folks came all the way from San Diego. You should be with them.”
His mom shook her head. “He’s got plenty of time to hang with us. You go see David tonight, dear.”
Gareth kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.” Then to David he said, “Would that be okay?”
David nodded. “I’d like that.” He stuck out his hand to Parker. “So glad to meet you.”
“And you, David. Hope to see you again soon.”
His mom scooped David into one of her bear hugs. “I’m so glad Gareth found you. I think you two are great together.”
Gareth clenched his teeth. “Mom!”
“I know. Sorry, not planning any weddings.”
Parker laughed. “Yet.”
David ducked his head and laughed. “Gotta go.” His eyes met Gareth’s. “See you later?”
“Definitely.”
He ran toward his car, that perfect ass flexing. They all watched him go.
His mom said, “Now there’s a man worth losing a tournament for.”
> HE WAS way late. Damn. David turned the little car around the corner onto Broadway and headed for the pageant grounds. Rodney had done the makeup on him a hundred times, so he should be able to get it on fast. He might be pressing his curtain time, but he wouldn’t have missed one second of this day.
He’d about shit when Gareth blew a whole adult life of hiding in one second of revelation. David remembered the mixed feelings of panic and relief when he’d made that statement for the first time—but he’d been thirteen, not twenty-two. Edge had frozen into a block of Aussie ice at Gareth’s admission. So had most of the other guys. Then a couple of brave souls had broken ranks to come up and shake Gareth’s hand, saying things like “Shit, mate, that took guts. Congrats.” Others moved away like he’d contracted plague. Edge looked stunned, then stricken. He grabbed his stomach and ran out of the tent like he was going to be sick. Not exactly a vote of confidence.
Gareth had stood there looking composed, his mom beside him, but David was standing close enough to see him shaking. He’d just laid his life as he knew it on the line.
As the others started filtering out of the locker tent to take places in the stands to watch the final match between the Aussies and the Brazilians, one guy had come over to Gareth. “Hey, mate, I’m glad you did it. Was wondering if you ever would.”
Gareth looked a little shocked, but Carolyn had done the asking. “So you knew that Gareth was gay?”
The guy’s smile seemed genuinely friendly. “Not for sure, of course, but I noticed that Gareth never seemed to like the ladies much. Oh, he’d go with us to bars and clubs sometimes, but he usually found a way to get out of there before the serious shagging started. I figured he might have other preferences.” He stuck out his hand. “No worries, mate. You play ball like a champ. I don’t give a fuck if you prefer men.”
Gareth accepted his hand and smiled. “Thanks, William. I appreciate it.”
But when Edge hit the sand with Gareth for the final match, he made a big show of not touching him. Edge missed a shot because he shied from hitting Gareth as he jumped at the ball and got a whistle and a serious tongue-lashing from the coach. But it was too late. Carolyn said it was questionable whether Gareth and Edge could have beaten the Brazilians, even if they’d been playing at the top of their game. As it was, they didn’t have a chance. It was amazing they’d only lost by two points.
Edge had disappeared after the match, which was good for him because while some of the men didn’t like queers, they liked Edge throwing over the game even less. Some blamed Gareth for coming out right before the match, but he seemed to shrug it off fairly well. When was a good time to admit you were gay?
So Gareth’s competition was over. The team had some exhibition matches, but nothing that counted in the long run. Gareth actually had a few days off.
Would he show up at the pageant? Just in case, David described Gareth to Jerry at the stage door and said to let him in if he happened to arrive.
He slid around the corner to find the dressing room empty except for Rodney, hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been? Everyone else is already made up and ready to go! You think I can perform miracles?”
David grinned and stripped. “Yes, I do.”
Rodney began slapping on the white body makeup, managing David’s equipment a little roughly. “So where have you been, Mr. Mysterious? I went by the gallery today, and you weren’t there. JJ said you’d gone up the coast for some reason.”
Oh, he was going to get hell for this from his friend. “I went to Huntington Beach.”
Rodney paused in the midst of manhandling David’s balls. “Why on earth would you go there? You’ve developed an affection for drunken surfers?”
David looked off into space. “No-o-o, I, uh, went to the, uh, volleyball tournament.”
Rodney stopped dead. “What in the everlasting hell possessed you? Oh no, do not tell me you went to see those Neanderthals play? I thought you were attending Alphas Anonymous. You simply have to get over this affliction. Dear God, you could have been hurt or killed. What were you thinking?”
A soft voice responded. “He was thinking that there was a Neanderthal in Huntington Beach who was desperate to see him, and he decided to be compassionate and throw the bloke a bone.”
David turned.
Gareth leaned against the doorjamb.
Dear God, the man was so beautiful. Even out of his trunks, dressed in jeans and a blue polo shirt, he looked like a god. The deep brown hair curled around his face and onto his neck. Gareth should be walking out on the stage as Michelangelo’s David instead of him.
David’s cock wiggled and started to fill, just at the sight of that gorgeous Aussie.
“Whoa, baby!” Rodney stared up at David, his hands raised in surrender. “I may be gay, but I’m unprepared to deal with my BFF’s hard-on.”
“I’m happy to deal with it.” Gareth pushed off from the door and crossed to Rodney and David. He took the makeup can from Rodney’s hand. “May I?”
Rodney scuttled away. “Be my guest, by all means.”
Gareth knelt in front of David and scooped some of the thick white paste in his hand. He began to spread it on David’s belly and thighs. By now, David’s cock was rock-hard and beginning to throb.
Rodney’s hands went back to his hips. “Okay, you two. Clearly, privacy is required. But let me warn you. This is a family show, more or less, and if that thing is sticking up while he’s on stage, there’s going to be hell to pay. So do something about it, understand?”
Gareth looked up into David’s eyes. “It will be my pleasure.”
David heard the snick of the door closing, and he knew Rodney would be standing guard. Rod might think David was crazy, but he was a sucker for love. “They’ll be calling me soon.”
“Then I better work fast.” Gareth took more white makeup and reached around David to apply it to his ass. This move brought his mouth within inches of David’s cock. Warm breath was a killer. The big hands spread the makeup over the butt cheeks and then dipped between. “Wouldn’t want the audience to see any skin in here, would we?” His fingers delved all the way to David’s pulsing hole and played around the rim. Jesus. How could he walk on stage when he couldn’t walk at all?
The makeup now covered his whole body except his face and one hugely swollen appendage. Gareth stared at it. “Guess it’s up to me to get rid of this thing, right?” He pulled a condom from his hip pocket and rolled it onto David, then, in one move, swallowed his aching cock deep into his mouth. David’s knees gave out, and he grabbed for the makeup table nearby until it was holding him upright on the strength of his arms and his will.
Gareth gave no quarter. He sucked and swallowed until David’s vision went black and his hips jerked mindlessly into that hot, wet hole in the universe. Oh God. So wonderful. Pageant? What pageant?
Gareth’s tongue played up one side of David’s shaft, around the head, and down the other side, then sucked him deep.
“Shit, oh shit, Gareth.” His balls tightened like overfilled balloons, heat exploded in his groin, and cum shot out of his cock into the condom that was surrounded by the heat of Gareth’s mouth. Gareth kept sucking, which blew David’s brain. Phil hadn’t liked to suck David. He always wanted it the other way ’round. Man, it had been too long.
When David finally opened his eyes, he was staring into Gareth’s crystal-blue ones. He stood, gently caressed David’s nape, and kissed him.
It was a simple meeting of lips. They’d call him any second, so no time. But that sweet, soft pressure held more feeling than David had experienced in a year with Phil. In a lifetime of bad choices in men. Gareth might be big and hunky like an alpha male, but he was sweet, so sweet, and David never wanted to lose the taste of those gentle lips.
Gareth pulled back, blue eyes glistening. He gazed at David for a moment, then began to apply the makeup to his face and neck. “Next time, love, after I show you my tests and see yours, I want to swallow you down with no
LATEX. Sound good?”
Oh sweet Jesus. “Yes, sounds wonderful. Good thing I don’t have a speaking part tonight, ’cause I’d never make it.”
Gareth laughed as he finished David’s neck. Then he knelt again and spread makeup onto a very relaxed cock. “This is more like what your mate had in mind, I think?”
The call box squawked. “David to the set, please.”
Gareth stood and grabbed a towel from the makeup table to wipe his hands. “You go be beautiful, love. Know I’m watching you and thinking you far exceed the perfection of the original. And think about all the time we’re going to spend with our cocks in each other’s asses tonight. If you want to, that is.”
David could hardly draw breath. “I thought you didn’t want me to get hard onstage?”
The Aussie laughed. “Oh yeah, forgot. Okay, wait ’til you come offstage, and then I’ll remind you. Now, get up there, gorgeous.” He slapped a hand on David’s buttock.
It was the first performance of the Pageant of the Masters in which the statue of David featured a perfect handprint on his ass.
DAVID PULLED into his driveway with the rental car right behind him. He peeked in his rearview mirror to see Gareth primp for a minute in his mirror. Jesus. The man was like catnip. And I’m a starving tabby.
He’d managed to escape Rodney after the pageant, or he’d still be bleeding from the tongue-lashing. True. He’d done his alpha male obsession thing again, but unless he was kidding himself to new extremes, this guy was different than Phil. Of course, he had been known to kid himself, like for a fucking year when he told himself every day that Phil was going to change, that he was actually the good-hearted, charming man he’d pretended to be when they’d met. Yeah, when it comes to kidding myself, I’m the Joker.
But staring in that mirror, watching six foot four inches of phenomenal beauty step out of the nondescript rental car, David couldn’t catch his breath. It had simply been too long. He wasn’t designed for celibacy, and tonight was the night that would change. Oh Jesus, he couldn’t wait.
