Low spent his day with Amir, taking his nephew to The Main Event then to an early Hawks game at Phillips Arena. By the time he finally dropped Amir off and made his way home, his feet hurt and he was hungry as hell.

But a peek into his mailbox wiped all his tiredness away. Along with the usual bills, he found a brown envelope with his name scribbled on the front in bold strokes.

He tore the envelope open before he even made it to his front door, and stared at the key card and small note in his hand with a grin.

This was made especially for you. It opens any door at Club Ȇxtase.

Come and see me

R.

Renzo’s club was reopening tonight, and his lover wanted him to be there. So Low took himself a shower. Made sure he was looking and smelling right, then made his way to Midtown.

At the club, he went to the main entrance, wasn’t like he was gonna take his ass to the fucking back. Ignoring the grumbles of everyone else waiting in line, he went up to the bouncer and nodded to him.

“Mr. Low.” The big guy didn’t uncross his bulky arms.

Apparently, they were on a first name basis now. Guess that happens when you’re fucking the boss? “John, just Low is fine.”

“Of course, Mr. Low.” He unhooked the rope and waved Low forward. “Come through.” Once Low stepped past him, he asked, “Where’s your key, why didn’t you use it?”

“Um…”

“You should use the private entrance around back from now on.”

“Yeah, sure.” Low looked around. “So where should I go?” He had the key card, yeah, but still…

“Where do you want to go?” John sked.

“Can I—Is Renzo around?” Why did he feel so awkward suddenly?

“Craig.” John waved one of the security guys over. “Take him to the boss’ office.”

“Actually,” Low interrupted. “Can we head to the bar first? I need a drink.”

The security guy nodded and motioned for Low to follow, so he did, entering the club’s main area with his own personal bodyguard. Not yet one a.m., but already the place was wall to wall bodies. Outside was a cool November breeze, but inside, especially here among the throngs of club goers, the heat was palpable.

Mix in music and drinking, and he could damn near taste it.

Craig pushed his way through the sweaty patrons gyrating to Jacquees and Dej Loaf’s At The Club, stopping only when they arrived at one of the two bars inside Club Ȇxtase. At least it wasn’t the same bar Low and Renzo had defiled.

He flushed hot in remembrance.

As Craig stood by, Low leaned against the bar, waiting until he caught a bartender’s attention before ordering his Heineken. He wasn’t a fan of all those fancy ass liquor. His tastes ran pretty simple.

Finally, beer in hand, he followed Craig as they left the dance floor and climbed the stairs to the second level. The Club had three levels. The dancefloor with two bars on the lowest level, VIP booths along with another bar on the second floor, then Renzo’s private offices on the highest. Club goers traversed the first two levels via the stairs. But to get to the third floor, at least from this angle, they had to go to the private elevator, accessed only via Renzo’s own private VIP booth.

Craig led Low there, striding with singular purpose down the narrow corridor. All except one of the VIP booths were open and well lit. Renzo’s personal booth remained dark, but as Low drew closer he made out a roar of loud voices that rose even above the loud music.

He stopped.

“Sir, use your key.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He held up the badge at the small sensor flashing red then exhaled when it beeped and flashed green. Craig stepped back for him to enter and Low gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Craig.”

The tall blond nodded. “Of course, sir.” Then he just stood there, waiting for Low to enter.

He pulled the handle on the door and it slid back. He stepped inside, and immediately came to a halt. The booth—more like a fucking studio apartment really—was filled with men, all of whom swung their attentions toward the entrance and Low, their boisterous conversation coming to an abrupt halt.

“Uh…” The damn place was barely lit and the scent of liquor and weed hit his nose, widening his eyes. He eyed the group of men, finally exhaling when he spotted Dax. “Dax, I’m sorry. I—” Hold up, Dax looked kinda different. He was suddenly tattooed? And had at least three piercings in his left ear? Plus one in his nose? Low squinted. “Dax?”

Strange Dax broke away from the group of men and strode forward, eyes twinkling, a smirk on his lips. “Shawty, what that mouth do?” he drawled.

What the—

“Name’s Deacon, sexy.” He sidled closer, smelling like weed and hot skin. “But you get to call me whatever you want once you’re naked. Even my brother’s name.”

Holy shit, Dax had a twin? Low gaped at the man in front of him.

“Who are you?” Someone asked from his left. “How’d you get in here?”

Low broke away from all that sex swirling in the depths of Deacon’s brown eyes and turned toward the new voice. This one was familiar, although Low couldn’t place his beautiful face with all those cheekbones that could double as weapons, and full lips. He was dark, this man staring at Low with a narrowed, suspicious gaze. Dark all over, exuding a kind of dangerous pull Low was now intimately familiar.

This was Renzo’s friends.

“I’m Low,” he spoke loudly. “I’m with Renzo.”

“With Renzo how?” someone barked from behind Deacon.

Fuck, these men. Talk about suspicious. He smiled, returning his gaze to Deacon who was damn near slobbering over him, holding his gaze as he said, “In every way.”

“Oh shiit.” One of the men in the back barked a laugh into his fist. “Deacon, you hitting on Renzo’s man? You ’bout to get fucked up, bruh.”

Deacon’s eyes shuttered, the blatant come on in them from moments ago disappearing, replaced instead with a mask of indifference. He stepped back. “He’s finally getting some, huh?” He eyed Low up and down critically. “About time.” Then he walked away, dropping back onto one the lounges lining the perimeter of the room.

“You’re the one he’s been talking about.” The guy at Low’s elbow hadn’t moved an inch.

Low nodded slowly. “I guess?”

Dark guy’s lips twitched. “Preacher.” He held out a hand.

“Low.” Low took the offered handshake.

“That’s Priest.” He motioned to a dark-skinned dread in the back with a Trinidadian scarf tied around his neck. “Next to him is Prophet.” The guy in question, bronze skin, luscious lips framed by a neatly trimmed goatee, fade haircut, black and white shirt buttoned up his throat, bottle of Crown Royal in his multi-ringed grip nodded at Low. “Bishop is out of town. And you’ve unfortunately met Deacon.”

The man in question saluted Low with a filled shot glass that he quickly tossed back with a grunt.

“I didn’t know Dax had a twin.”

At the mention of his brother, Deacon’s jaw twitched, but he kept silent.

Okay. “So I’m just trying to get up to Renzo’s office,” Low told the men. “I’ll leave you guys to your—” He waved a hand. “Whatever.”

“Stay with us, nah?” The words, spoken in a Trini accent, came from Priest. “What you drinking?”

Low held up his Heineken. “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.” He gestured to the elevator. “I’m gonna head—”

The elevator dinged open and Renzo stepped out, Dax at his heels. Renzo’s gaze swept the room, before coming to stop on Low. His eyes widened with warm surprise.

“Low.” He reached Low in three strides, engulfing him in his arms.

“Hey.” Low wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back. He smelled so damn good that Low burrowed deeper into his embrace, forgetting their audience as he closed his eyes and breathed in. “I missed you.”

Renzo lifted his head and Low’s eyes flew open.

“Why are you here?” Renzo’s brow furrowed as he cupped Low’s jaw. “Why didn’t you come up through the private entrance?”

“I wanted to get a drink first,” Low told him softly. “Craig escorted me here to get the elevator. I-I didn’t know your friends—”

Renzo’s kiss ate up the rest of Low’s sentence. Not that he minded. He fisted the back of Renzo’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as his lover slid into his mouth with a groan. Everyone around them disappeared as Low melted into that kiss, rocking into Renzo with shiver.

A throat cleared.

Somebody snickered.

Low tore his mouth away, grinning when Renzo made a sound of complaint. “Your friends, Renzo.”

“Fuck my friends.”

“Hey!”

“Did he just—”

“Come on.” Renzo linked their fingers and tugged Low behind him as he strode to the open elevator. Once they were inside, Renzo hauled Low back into his body as he addressed his friends. “Boys, I’m sure you can find some way to entertain yourselves.”

“I see how it is,” Prophet said with a grin. “You snag a cute piece of ass and now you’re disowning your friends.”

Low waved at the men standing around, a couple hooting and hollering. “Your friends seem nice,” he murmured against Renzo’s neck.

“They’re not.” Renzo’s tongue dipped into Low’s ear, and he shivered, eyelids dropping shut.

“Hmm.” Low pulled him closer, rubbing against his hardness. “Why didn’t you tell me Dax had an identical twin?”

“You wanna talk about that?” Renzo’s hand snuck down the back of Low’s jeans, fingers curling to dig into his skin.

Low exhaled sharply.

“Or do you want Daddy to slide up inside and make you scream?”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors swooshed open.

“The second part,” Low whispered against Renzo’s lips. “Daddy.”

* * *

Low hit “submit” on his final paper for his English 121 class and slumped back onto the couch. He made it just by the skin of his teeth, too. Deadline to submit was 12pm. He glanced at the clock.

11:52.

“Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Writing wasn’t his strong suit and ten fucking pages describing his favorite vacation spot wasn’t exactly a fun time, but he got it done. That was all that mattered.

Nowadays he split his time between his place and Renzo’s, but tonight Renzo had some business to handle so Low opted to stay at his place to finish up his paper until Renzo was finished. They’d settled into a kind of routine, he and Renzo, and with every day that passed Low found himself falling harder and deeper.

Who’d have thought that could happen, huh?

Not him.

They were happy. Even with Renzo’s issues affecting his sleep, they didn’t spend a night apart. The only thing that dampened Low’s joy was the fact that his family didn’t know the truth about him.

About Renzo.

Maybe this was the time to speak his truth. Just thinking it had his stomach in knots, but it had to be done. He couldn’t go on like this forever. Renzo Vega was not the kind of lover you kept in a closet.

His phone went off. He leaned forward and picked it up off the floor, answering it with a smile so big and wide, his face ached instantly. “Renzo.”

“Low.” The raspy quality of Renzo’s voice sent goosebumps blanketing Low’s skin. He closed his eyes. “I was thinking about you.”

“Funny.” He dropped back onto the couch, eyes falling shut. “I was thinking of you.”

“Yeah?” Renzo’s voice sank lower, tugging at Low’s groin. “Tell me.”

“I was thinking I want you, Renzo Vega.” He kept his eyes closed, unzipping his jeans, lower belly tight with desire and anticipation. “I was thinking of the last time I had you on your knees.” He pulled his cock free and cupped himself at Renzo’s sharp inhale.

“You like me on my knees.” That growled statement only served to make Low grip himself tighter.

“I like you in every position.” He stroked himself, belly contracting. Ungh.

“Fuck.” Something shattered in Low’s ear. A glass maybe. “Careful,” Renzo cautioned in a voice that sounded like it’d been filtered through a cheese grater. “I’m barely hanging on here, Low. Don’t fucking push.”

The dark threat washed over Low like a shot of Clarke’s Court white rum, a wave of heat that started in his face then slid down his body in slow, torturous increments. “What happens if I keep pushing?” As if he didn’t know, right?

“I spread you wide and dive in, and I stay deep in it even after you tap out.”

He stroked himself leisurely, ass lifting slowly off the couch. “You think I’ll tap?” Need had him breathless, panting.

“I think you know I’ll kill it.” Seemed the same need rode Renzo just as hard, because his words were barely more than guttural sounds. “Same way I know your dick is in your fist right now, Low. And you’re dripping what’s mine all over that bed of yours.”

Low groaned. “Daddy.” Fuck, he loved the way that title rolled off his tongue. Even more, he loved Renzo’s reaction to it.

Renzo swore violently. “Jesus. Get your ass over here. Now, Low!”

He grinned, lashes fluttering open as he shivered. “And when I do?”

Renzo hissed. “I give you what you want.”

See this? He loved this. “Which is what?”

“That deep up in your gut dick. You begging for it, choking on it, crying out my name as I split you open and you come apart around it.”

Yes. Low arched, eyes squeezed shut as he moaned. “Yess.” Fuck, he was coming, writhing, orgasm exploding behind his eyes like fireworks over the Carenage in Town.

“Get the fuck to my place so I can lick you dry,” Renzo growled.

Low might have moaned another “yes” again, he couldn’t be sure. He was too busy yanking up his pants and running for the door.