EIGHTEEN

 

Aaron had been distracted all evening. That much was clear to Brad and had been from the moment that he’d laid eyes on him. He seemed completely lost in his own thoughts, and Brad had no idea how to draw him out.

As far as he could tell, Aaron wasn’t the sort of man who could be drawn out. He would talk about what was going on with him in his own time, if and when he wanted to. Any attempts to make him talk would just annoy him. Brad had watched Ken try often enough to know that much.

But there was no time for him to try, even if there was a point. They had a show to put on, the last stop on this continent, and the Tokyo fans were insane for the Lost Boys. Something about the sound of the pop music seemed to appeal to a lot of them, and not only was the venue sold out, but it promised to be a crazy show.

“Break a leg,” Brad said to each of them, but he, as he always did, especially sought out Aaron’s eyes. Over the last few months, Aaron had always given him a secret little smile before he turned and went onstage, but not this time. This time, he didn’t acknowledge Brad at all, and Brad watched, frowning and anxious, as the man he was growing to care about more than anything else left once more to cater to an adoring crowd.

Aaron was not someone that Brad should be falling for, and he had known that long before he had started. Aaron’s heart was not free to be given to anyone. It was more than possible that Aaron was warning Brad off, retreating into himself to keep things from going any further than they had.

Brad should probably back off. Let Aaron have his space. Or else he would risk driving him away completely, which, to be honest, Brad knew that he should probably be ready for anyway.

With a sigh, Brad watched as his lover escaped him, went back onstage, and he waited in the wings as he always did. Always ready to swoop in, to take Aaron into his arms. Pathetically ready, even.

His phone buzzed at him, and Brad slid his hand into his pocket and tugged it out. Fighting off a very unprofessional groan, he pressed the glowing green button that would accept the call. Like it or not, his boss was not someone that he could ignore, as much as he might want to.

“Lara,” he said, keeping his voice smooth, no panic audible at all. He hoped. She was like a shark smelling blood when it came to weakness, though generally more benevolent than that, but he knew already that she wasn’t happy with him. He should have had Aaron’s signature on a long-term contract ages ago.

“Brad. Can you guess what I have in front of me?” Lara asked, her voice that particular smooth, satiny sort of softness that Brad knew meant that things were about to get interesting.

“No?” he tried. It was the honest truth, after all, and he couldn’t even begin to guess. By her voice, though, it probably wasn’t a good thing.

“A photo.” Her voice was still silky, but it was silk overlying a hand, a fist, of iron. “Just one, thankfully, and it hasn’t gotten to the paparazzi yet, but can you guess what’s in the photo?”

Brad’s mind raced, and his heart hammered so hard in his chest that he didn’t even dare to open his mouth. If he did, she would be able to hear his nervous pulse in it. There were, truthfully, many things that the photo could be of. He had thought that he and Aaron hadn’t been seen, but they really could have been more careful. He could remember more than a few delicious times that they hadn’t been very careful, but he probably shouldn’t think about that while on the phone with his boss.

“I don’t know,” Brad finally managed, though he thought that perhaps he had let the silence stretch on for just a little bit too long. It had taken that long to get his voice back under control, though.

“A picture of you with a certain Lost Boy. You have your hand on his back, and you’re leading him somewhere. Into a hotel room.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it was bad enough. Brad forced himself to breathe deeply, to try to think, but his mind was panicking, screaming at him that he was trapped, that he was caught, and that he was going to lose his job.

“Lara—” he started, but she interrupted him, and she was one of the few people that Brad would allow to do that.

“What’s your relationship with Aaron, Brad? Why were you leading him to a hotel room? Was it his, or yours?”

Brad let out all of his air all at once. Onstage, the Lost Boys were singing, starting the concert, and he ducked into a room where it was a little bit quieter, where he could at least hear himself think.

“Lara, listen to me. I’m just trying to get him to sign the contract. Yes, I’ve been spending time with him, but only to get him on board.”

It was a lie, of course. And a risk, though a calculated one. He was betting that that would distract her, and it did, but too late he remembered that that wasn’t necessarily a good thing in this particular instance.

“The contract.” Lara’s voice had gone very sweet and very smooth again, and Brad was sensible enough to be instantly wary once more. “What about that contract, anyway? So far, what we have is four contract extensions, one for each month that you’ve been trying to get that signature.”

Brad winced. He knew that she was right and that she was pissed off, and even that she had every right to be so. Brad hadn’t been pushing Aaron nearly as hard as he should have been.

“I know. I’m not sure that Aaron is going to sign at all.”

The words surprised Brad. Was he giving up? That wasn’t the sort of thing that was normal for him, but there was Leah. Aaron wasn’t going to give up on her, which was becoming more and more clear. And Aaron had been pulling away so much.

There was a silence that seemed to stretch between them, an elastic band pulled and pulled until it was so taut and stretched out that it seemed that it must snap.

“Find out,” Lara finally spoke. “Get an answer from him either way. No more contract extensions. He signs the contract until the end of the tour, or the two-year one. Those are his choices.”

Brad sighed softly. Aaron wasn’t going to like that, and pushing Aaron into something that he didn’t like was a surefire way to make the man stubborn and taciturn. But Lara was right. It was time to know for sure what was going on. And, for Brad, not just professionally, but also personally, romantically.

“Done,” Brad assured her and then ended the call before she could ask any more penetrating questions. Or before her shrewd, quicksilver mind could pick up that he’d avoided a lot of the questions that she had asked.

 

* * *

 

“I’m too tired,” Aaron said, while Brad strained his ears to try to hear the words, all while trying to act like he wasn’t paying any attention at all. It was a tough balancing act, but the last thing he would need right now was for another picture to make its way to Lara.

“You’re always too tired,” Ken complained, his hands on his hips as he glared at Aaron. Poor Ken. This tour had been hard on him. Brad hadn’t spent a lot of time with the guy, but he seemed like he was alone a lot of the time, his boyfriend back home in Los Angeles, and Lance and Jamie pretty much permanently attached to each other. He was the permanent third wheel, and Brad could have sympathy for that.

Not enough sympathy to encourage Aaron to go with them, though. Aaron looked over at Brad, a flicker of violet eyes, and Brad nodded, just a little bit. It was Aaron’s choice, but if Aaron asked what Brad wanted, he wasn’t going to lie about it.

“We’ve covered half the world already on this tour,” Aaron spoke calmly, quietly, so that Brad had to take half a step closer just to hear him. “I think I have the right to be tired. You guys go, have fun.”

Before Ken could complain again, Aaron stepped away, and Brad braced himself for the impact as Ken’s discontent eyes turned toward him. But they passed on. Ken, at least, seemed to have no idea that Aaron kept blowing off the post-concert partying because he was spending most of his nights with Brad.

“I’ll meet you at my hotel room,” Brad whispered because there was no way that they should be seen leaving together. Not when it seemed like someone, at least, was watching. Aaron shot him a surprised look but nodded, and at least it seemed like he still wanted to see Brad, even with how strained things were. He slipped Aaron the key to his room, which Aaron accepted, though not without a deeply thoughtful look.

Brad let Aaron leave first, chatting with the head of security, tending to the things that he needed to tend to. The Lost Boys left, still seeming a little dejected that Aaron had chosen not to go with them, and Brad sighed and waited as long as he could make himself wait before he finally followed Aaron out.

 

* * *

 

They were going to have to talk.

There were things, too many things, that were going unsaid between them. Too many things that Brad had been just as happy to leave unsaid, truth to be told. But now, with the close call with Lara, and with the ultimatum, and with Brad’s own growing feelings, it was time for them to hash some things out.

Outside of his door, Brad stared down at the blank, unassuming whiteness. The door was clean, very, very clean, except that there was a small scuff mark by the peephole. Brad knew this because he had been standing there, staring at it, for at least the last five minutes.

We need to talk. Those words had to be some of the scariest in the English language when they were strung together like that, but Brad needed to say them. In a few seconds, he could ruin everything between the two of them, because he had already noted how Aaron didn’t like feeling trapped.

Brad reached for the handle to the door, and just as his fingers had wrapped around the smooth, cool, brushed metal surface, the door slid open, and Aaron stood there, shirt already off, pants half undone so that the tight leather barely clung to his slender hips.

God, he was so gorgeous. It hit him like a sledgehammer every time he saw him after even the slightest separation. For a moment, all Brad could do was stop and stare, which was so ridiculous because it wasn’t like he had never seen a beautiful young man before. This industry was full of them.

But none of them were Aaron. None of them had that sharp, restless intelligence snapping in their eyes. None of them made Brad feel strange flutters in his stomach every time they deigned to smile. None of them had a biting, utterly hilarious sense of humor which Aaron did.

None of them were Aaron, and that was really all that it came down to.

“Aaron,” Brad started, belatedly remembering that he had been standing and staring at the door for a reason. They needed to talk, right? Seeing Aaron falling out of his clothes had momentarily distracted Brad a little bit, but he had more willpower than to be completely taken off guard.

Aaron didn’t say a word. He just reached out, one strong hand wrapping around Brad’s tie, pulling him into the room. Their lips crashed together just seconds before the door closed, and Brad had time to dimly regret that, regret that risk, before he lost himself in the kiss.

They could talk after the kissing, right?

Only there was an odd, intense sort of energy around Aaron, crackling like static electricity through the air between them. Touching Aaron, kissing Aaron, was like trying to hold on to thunder, to water, and Brad groaned and closed his eyes and did his very best to hold on to the impossible.

“Aaron,” Brad tried again when their lips parted for half a second. His own voice was rough, his breath quick, just from the sheer fury with which Aaron had kissed him. But he still had a job to do.

Aaron took Brad’s briefcase from him, tossing it negligently aside onto the little breakfast nook table, and then he was on him all over again. Still, the young man said nothing, no words at all, and Brad found himself wishing that Aaron would at least acknowledge that Brad had spoken.

The way Aaron was touching him, it was like there was a wind blowing, a strong wind, the kind that couldn’t even be fought against. In his determination, Aaron was crowding Brad back toward the bed, his hand still locked around Brad’s tie while the other was fumbling for the zipper of Brad’s pants, tugging it down, gripping his cock in a tight, firm grip that was so filled with pleasure that it was just short of pain.

Brad could have stopped it if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t. Seeing Aaron this filled with desire, and seeing how almost crazed he was with it, how was he supposed to resist?

The answer was, he didn’t. He let himself be crowded back onto the bed and reached around to grip Aaron’s ass as he fell onto it. His hands slipped into those half-open leather pants, groping him and pulling him close as they kissed again. It was so easy just to let it happen, to forget that there was anything to talk about.

Brad’s pants were off, and Aaron’s hand was still locked on Brad’s tie like he was afraid that Brad was going to try to bolt. It was the work of just a moment or two for Brad to push Aaron’s pants down around his ankles, and he knew how thoroughly he had been swept into Aaron’s hurricane of desire when he realized that he had absolutely no patience for anything else, that he had to have Aaron right then. His cock was pulsing with the force of it, the fury, the frenzy, having been successfully passed right on to him.

Just barely, he remembered to reach for his bag, where he had the condoms. What he wouldn’t give just to plunge inside of him, to feel the tightness of that firm, beautiful ass close around him, skin to skin, no barrier. But Brad was more careful than that, so he forced himself to break away and roll a condom onto his aching erection, while Aaron, clothed only in the leather pants, bunched up around his ankles, shifted forward to wrap his talented mouth around one of Brad’s nipples and suckle.

Damned if he hadn’t always been sensitive there, and Aaron knew it. It was just one more thing that was designed to drive Brad insane, but Aaron was adding fuel, pouring gasoline, onto a fire which was already raging almost out of control.

Once the condom was on, Brad sprang into action. His large hands settled on Aaron’s shoulders, feeling the heat of his bare skin, smelling the sweat that was still on him from the performance. Aaron was always aroused after performing, but this was something else entirely.

Part of him wanted to ask. Most of him didn’t want to know. Better to think that this was a hopeful sign, that Aaron had realized that he wanted to be around Brad. So Brad gave himself over, pushing Aaron onto his back, then hooking his hands around the back of Aaron’s knees and pushing them up to his chest.

Now Aaron was the one who was trapped, tangled up in Brad’s hands and his own pants. For just a moment, Brad looked into Aaron’s eyes, just checking to make sure that this was really okay, but he saw nothing but raw, urgent need there.

So he gripped his sheathed cock in his hand, positioned himself, and then pushed. Just like that, he slid deep inside of Aaron, and it seemed like the younger man was welcoming him inside, trying to draw him deeper.

Not since the first time had this been done with so much passion, so much need. Neither of them was even fully undressed, and Aaron kept his grip on Brad’s tie, holding him in place just as much as Brad was holding Aaron. Using each other’s clothing like they could somehow keep the other from leaving.

Or maybe that was just him.

Plunging, thrusting, Brad made sure to ram himself right against Aaron’s prostate. With how hot this was, how sparks seemed to be flying from his body to Aaron’s and back again, there was no way that Brad would be able to keep himself from spilling deep inside Aaron, filling the condom. He was going to bring Aaron right along with him, though.

In the end, they came within seconds of each other. Aaron gave a soft, but desperate, little cry, and his body convulsed, his inner walls gripping Brad in a grip that was almost painful as the young man spilled his fluids onto his stomach.

Brad was just half a step later, and as he came, he wanted to kiss Aaron, but the other man’s legs were arranged so that they were in the way. So instead, though it was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do, he pulled out, still shaking from the orgasm.

It had been as good as ever, physically speaking, but when Brad had dealt with the condom and turned back to bed, he saw that Aaron was already lying sprawled out on the bed, naked except for a sheet wrapped around him.

So much for talking. Brad softly sighed as he lay down on his side, looking at Aaron, this confusing, unpredictable man. Somehow, Aaron had used sex to drive a wedge further between them. Brad was almost sure of it.

What he wasn’t sure of was what he was going to do about it. Even though he stayed up for a long time, gazing at Aaron’s sleeping profile and thinking about it, he didn’t find any answers.