Chapter Eleven
SCOTT SLIPPED OUT OF BED, leaving Rylan, true to form, sawing logs again.
He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, surprised to see Minh already up and sitting at the table hunched over a cup of coffee. He seemed bleary-eyed and a little sad.
“What’s up, boo?” Scott asked, running his hand over Minh’s hair and squeezing the back of his neck before heading for the coffeepot.
Minh gave a listless shrug. “Nothing.”
“Hey, don’t give me that. It’s me.”
Scott grabbed a banana and sat down next to him with his coffee, unable to suppress a small wince as his ass connected with the chair. Minh’s eyes shimmered with a brief wickedness.
“Sore?”
Scott snorted, peeling the banana. “Yes, if you must know. Rylan woke up in a…mood.”
A smile flickered across Minh’s lips. “So did Chris. I swear, that man is insatiable.”
“He’s crazy about you, Minh.”
Minh twirled his empty coffee cup between his palms. “His dick is, that’s for sure.”
Scott eyed him, taking a thoughtful bite of his banana. “I think it’s more than that, hon. I really do.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey.” Scott waited until Minh looked at him before saying gently, “What’s got you so down? Is it that you don’t feel the same way?”
Minh got up and refilled his cup, slumping against the counter. “I don’t know, Scotty. It was supposed to be all fun and games, but this morning, he—” Minh swallowed hard. “When he was fucking me, he wrapped me in his arms so tight. Like a lot of guys just grab your shoulders and go to town, but Chris—he held me, you know?”
Scott swallowed, too. “Yeah.”
I love you, Scott. God, I love you.
Minh came back to the table and collapsed into his chair again. “Even after we were done, he held me for a long time. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that?”
Scott stood and threw his banana peel away in the nearby trashcan before putting his hands on Minh’s shoulders from behind to give them a squeeze. “Yesterday at brunch, I overheard him telling Rylan you were a ray of sunshine.”
Minh snorted. “Sounds like bad song lyrics.”
Scott rubbed Minh’s upper arms. “It does. But back when I first met Rylan, I thought the same thing about him. I couldn’t explain it, but it always seemed like the world got a little bit brighter when he was around.” He gave a derisive chuckle. “God, that sounds sappy as fuck. Bad song lyrics is right.”
Minh nodded in vigorous agreement, and Scott bopped him lightly on the head in joking reproof. “The thing is, there wasn’t a whole lot about my life back then that didn’t seem bleak and hopeless, at least according to my perception of it. Rylan lit everything up, made things look different—better.” Scott bent down and kissed his cheek. “Sounds like Chris sees you in the same way. You must make his world brighter, which is a great thing. Trust me.”
Minh thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, maybe. But I’ll still be done with him by Saturday.”
Scott smiled to himself as he moved to his seat, thinking how Minh’s expiration date kept getting pushed back.
Just then, a bang and a curse from the hallway, and Chris himself lurched into the kitchen. Both Scott and Minh pointed wordlessly in the direction of the coffeepot, sharing a grin as Chris made a beeline for it with a look of desperation on his face.
“He really is one of us,” Scott muttered, and Minh snorted in agreement. Chris plopped down next to them and sipped his coffee, heaving a sigh of utter contentment as the caffeine hit his system.
“Not used to all these early mornings,” he croaked. “I’m a night owl.”
Minh laughed at him. “Preaching to the choir. We keep club hours, in bed at five a.m., sleep till two or three—”
“Oh, the life of the young and beautiful.” Chris leaned over for a kiss, which Minh returned with enthusiasm.
Scott grimaced at the display and stood, moving to the stove. “Who wants an omelet?”
By the time Rylan staggered in, omelets were on the table and fresh coffee brewed. Scott smirked at his bedhead and stubble before cupping his cheeks to kiss him and wipe the sleep from his eyes with his thumbs. “Morning, hot stuff.”
Rylan grunted. “Why’re you all so fuckin’ cheerful?” He moved to the coffeepot and yanked the cabinet door above it open with an irritable motion.
“Third cup.” Minh held up his mug.
Chris hoisted his. “Second.”
Scowling, Rylan carried his coffee to the table and hunched over it like he was afraid someone would take it from him. Scott slid Rylan’s omelet onto a plate and approached him with exaggerated wariness, snickering when Chris muttered, “Careful. You wouldn’t want to lose a finger there, dude.”
Rylan growled and pretended to bite him, but a half smile quirked his lips. It wasn’t long before he perked up, and everyone ate their breakfast, the laughter and conversation lively.
“So I told that bitch, ‘Oh, shut up and paint your face.’” Minh concluded his story about an evil drag queen with a dramatic wave of his fork.
“And did she?” Chris’s voice was tight with suppressed mirth.
“Fuck yeah, she did. Went out there and killed the show, too. Didn’t matter if she hated my guts, the show must go on.”
Chris’s arm was slung along the back of Minh’s chair, and he nuzzled his cheek with his nose. “My fierce baby.”
Minh tossed his head. “Fierce and fabulous.” Grinning, he gave Chris a resounding kiss. “And on that note, we really need to get ready for the wedding.”
They both stood, and Scott did, too. Chris stuck his hand out. “If I don’t see you again before we leave, thanks, Scott, for inviting me up here this weekend.”
Scott clasped his hand, and all of a sudden, they flowed into a hug that seemed entirely natural. With a last thump to Scott’s back, Chris pulled away and said, “We should do this again sometime. The four of us taking a trip together, I mean.”
Scott pursed his lips, cutting his eyes over to Minh. “Well, that sounds great. It’ll be kind of hard to put anything together before Saturday, but—” He broke off with a yelp as Minh kicked his shin, glaring at him.
“What?” Chris looked confused, and Minh grabbed his arm to hustle him off.
“He’s just being his usual dick self. Ignore him.” Minh’s words drifted back to Scott and he cracked up, leaning against the counter. When he stopped laughing, he noticed Rylan looking at him curiously.
“What was that all about?”
Scott shook his head, still grinning. “Just that I might have a fledgling career in matchmaking. What do you think?”
Rylan snorted, gathering up all the plates and moving to the sink to wash them. “What do I think? That you got lucky, man. Things could have turned out way differently.” His voice was teasing, not chiding, but still, his words hit Scott square in the gut. He’d invited Chris up here as a tool to push Rylan away, and thank fuck it hadn’t worked out.
Scott wrapped his arms around Rylan’s waist from behind and kissed his nape. “I’m so glad you’re smarter than me. So glad.”
Rylan flicked some soapsuds over his shoulder into Scott’s face. “Not smarter, just in love.”
Scott smiled against Rylan’s skin, and he bit the tendon in his neck gently. “Mmmm. So glad of that, too. How else could you put up with me?”
“Indeed.”
Rylan tried his best to put the kitchen to rights, but Scott proceeded to make a huge nuisance of himself, roaming his hands everywhere, getting in the way. When Rylan grabbed Scott’s fingers and dragged them up and out of his pants for the third time, he burst out, “Jesus, Scott. Go pack our shit up in the bedroom. Go. You’re banished!”
Rylan brandished a dripping spatula at him, and Scott retreated, laughing and giving Rylan’s ass cheek a sharp slap as he left, reveling in his yelp. He ran lightly up the stairs, grinning as he heard a similar commotion coming from Minh and Chris’s room down the hall.
“How the fuck am I supposed to put my makeup on when you do that, Chris? You’re making my hands shake!”
“I’m not anywhere near your hands,” came Chris’s muffled growl. “Come on, show me how you multitask, baby.”
A brief silence, then Minh’s low moan followed by a hoarse gasp of Chris’s name sent Scott hurrying to his own room. He shut the door, flinging himself on the bed and running his hand soothingly over his cock, which was tingling with a low-grade arousal. It didn’t help that the rumpled sheets smelled of Rylan and sex, and Scott couldn’t fight it for long. He shoved his sweatpants off and reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pouring a generous dollop into his palm.
He was stroking himself leisurely, base to tip, when the door opened and Rylan walked in, stopping short when he caught sight of what Scott was doing. He bit his lip, his face flushing, and in response, Scott planted his feet on the bed and let his knees fall to the side, rolling his hips as he fucked his fist to ensure Rylan got a good view.
Rylan strolled over, his eyes glittering. “Well. If this isn’t one of my fantasies come to life.” He stretched out on his side next to Scott, not touching him, though his body heat was scorching.
“Yeah?” Scott pushed on his dick, letting it bob away from his body before it fell heavily back against his belly. Rylan followed the movement and licked his lips.
“Yeah,” he growled, leaning in to put his mouth to Scott’s ear. “I watched you once, when we were kids. You were jacking yourself, just like this, and I humped my bed while you did it and came in my fucking pants.”
Scott moaned, his cock swelling impossibly bigger in his hand. “Jesus, Rylan.”
“What were you thinking of just now, when I walked in?”
Scott stroked harder. “You. The way you looked dancing with Minh, fucking his mouth. The way you feel inside me. Your voice saying you love me.”
Precome welled up in his slit, and Scott smeared it around with his thumb, groaning.
“Yes,” Rylan whispered. “I love you. Love your body. Your face. Your mind. Your strength. Your loyalty.”
Emotion and pleasure swirled through Scott in a dizzying wave, and his balls drew up tight.
Rylan kissed his way down to Scott’s nipple and surrounded it with his hot, wet mouth. “I love you.” He swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. “You’re my heart, my soul. My everything.”
Rylan sucked hard as Scott unraveled, the slick sound of his hand jerking his cock filling the room. Broken moans welled in his throat, and Rylan scooted up again to whisper in his ear, “You’re so beautiful, Scott.” He pinched and rolled Scott’s wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Come for me now.”
Scott cried out to the ceiling, his back and buttocks arching clear off the bed as he shot his load all over his heaving chest in wrenching, seemingly endless spurts that left him gasping and spent.
Rylan crooned to him, pushing Scott’s hand away from his cock to squeeze the tip between his own fingers, forcing a few more white drops to the surface as he cleaned him up with gentle laps of his tongue.
Scott whimpered, overwhelmed, and Rylan gave him one last kiss before resting his head on Scott’s abdomen and rubbing his palm slowly across his hip. They lay there in a pleasant haze until Rylan said reluctantly, “Should probably think about getting on the road, huh?”
It was the last thing Scott wanted to do, but he glanced at the bedside clock and gave a grunt of assent. They each took turns showering while the other packed, and Scott hauled all the garbage out while Rylan did a last walkthrough of the cabin, making sure the hot tub was covered and all the lights turned off. Finally Scott locked up and slid the key under the mat for the housekeeper who would come by later that afternoon.
“Ready?”
Chris and Minh were already long gone, so there was nobody around when they tossed their bags into the convertible and backed down the gravel driveway out onto the road. They’d just hit the interstate when Scott’s phone rang, and he hit the button on the steering wheel to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Scotty! Where are you?” Corey’s voice was throbbing with excitement.
“On my way down from Sedona with Rylan. What’s up?”
Corey took an audible deep breath and burst out, “MC₂ is back on the table! The endorsement is so close I can fucking taste it!”
“What—”
“That picture you posted, the one of you lying on the rock? It’s a winner, baby! Mallory Creswell just called me himself! He’s flying in tomorrow night for a sit-down with us on Wednesday morning. This is it, Scotty. This is it!”
Scott hadn’t even begun to process that when Corey started rattling off instructions to him in a rapid-fire manner. “I’ve set you up with a haircut and style this afternoon, and after that, a mani/pedi and tooth bleaching. Tomorrow morning will be a spray tan, maybe a chest and eyebrow waxing. Get some gym time in as you can, but I think right now an even, all-over tan will help more than anything. How’s your eating been?”
Scott was still limited on some things because of his jaw, but he thought guiltily of the alcohol he’d drunk, the carbs and fat he’d eaten over the weekend, and winced. There’d been no gym time, and unless he counted the few hikes and a couple of bouts of sex, no exercise of any kind either.
“Uh—”
“And there goes all the relaxation you’d achieved,” Rylan muttered in disgust. “Thanks a whole fucking lot, Corey. Jesus.”
Scott smacked Rylan’s leg to shush him, earning himself a death glare.
“I know you’re a little skinny right now,” Corey continued, “but we can work with that through creative lighting and posing. As long as you haven’t turned into a fat pig or something overnight, you’ll be good enough.” He chortled.
Scott ran his hand over his flat stomach self-consciously. Was that a bulge he felt around his waistband area? Did he have a fucking muffin top? He swallowed, not really sure what all was going on but wondering if he’d fucked it up again by indulging himself this weekend and not worrying about his image.
Rylan put a hand on his thigh, and the warm, reassuring weight cut through the panic and self-doubt swirling through Scott in a nauseating wave. He cleared his throat.
“I’ll be back in Phoenix in a couple of hours, Corey.”
“Great. Get down to the club as soon as you get back, and we’ll go over our strategy before your hair appointment. Great things ahead of us, baby. Great things!”
With that, Corey hung up. There was silence, broken only by the sound of the hot, rushing wind outside the car.
“I’m the one who posted the picture of you in the contest,” Rylan said slowly. “I took it that first day on our hike with Minh. It was—you looked so beautiful and happy, and I just wanted everyone to see it.” He tightened his grip on Scott’s thigh. “I did tag the contest, because all the other entries were boring and stupid.”
Scott threaded his fingers through Rylan’s and squeezed. “Thanks. This whole weekend I never once thought of social media or MC₂ or the club—”
“Why should you have to? Can’t you have a weekend to yourself?”
“I have to stay relevant, Rylan. My injury—well, normally I’d have a hard time coming back from something like that. When you spend too long out of the public eye, there’s always someone new waiting to take your place. But now with MC₂—” He blew out a breath. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
Scott saw Rylan gnawing on his lip like he wanted to say something, and he squeezed his hand again. “Out with it,” he said drily. “It’s not like you’ve minced words these past few days, sweetheart, so what’s on your mind?”
Rylan cast him a sheepish glance, looking so adorable Scott wished he could lean over and kiss him. “I just—you were so happy and relaxed a few minutes ago, and now I hate to see you so tense again.”
Scott shrugged. “Isn’t that how everyone is? Vacation is over, back to reality. Most people don’t like their jobs.”
“So you don’t like yours?” Rylan’s voice was sharp, and Scott gave an impatient huff.
“I didn’t say that, Ry. I get paid good money to party in clubs, walk around half-naked, and be adored. What’s not to like?”
Rylan waved his free hand. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe being valued solely on your looks and not anything else. Maybe because you always have to work so hard to be nothing less than perfect.”
“That’s what I’m paid for, Rylan. I’m paid big bucks to be your fantasy of the perfect man come to life.”
“I know. And if what you’re doing makes you happy, then that’s all that matters. But—”
“But what? Don’t stop now.”
Rylan bit his lip and said, “Are you happy? It just reminds me of when we were kids. That you don’t—that you don’t think you have options.”
Scott didn’t reply, and after a moment, Rylan went on, “You have so much talent. You have people skills, charm, and diplomacy. You’re a thinker, a problem solver. If it wasn’t for you, Brian and Julia wouldn’t be getting married right now in such a beautiful and unique ceremony.”
Scott snorted. “That’s not true. I was just in the right place at the right time, willing to help—”
“No, it is true! You took a problem, and you worked around it with the tools you had. You turned it into something special, Scott, because people respond to you. You have class, and good taste.” Rylan paused. “All I’m saying is, it’s okay if you want to reinvent yourself. It’s okay if you want to take a step back, and find something you enjoy, but also something where you can just goddamn breathe for a change.”
Scott blinked back sudden tears. Fucking wind in my eyes. He let go of Rylan to root for his sunglasses in the console, slipping them on.
“Easier said than done,” he croaked.
Rylan put his hand on the back of his neck, stroking the nape with his thumb. “I know. And no matter what you decide is best for you, Scott, I believe in you. One hundred percent unconditionally. I just don’t want you to tell yourself there aren’t any other options, okay?”
Scott gave a jerky nod, not trusting his voice, and they made the rest of the drive back to Phoenix in silence.
* * *
Rylan stood alone in the middle of Scott’s apartment, feeling a little lost.
What now?
He trudged to the master bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was rumpled, unmade, so Rylan stripped it and put fresh sheets on before pulling the comforter up and smoothing it with his palm.
After that, he wandered around for a while, straightening things, putting stuff away, his thoughts racing. It had been such a great weekend in so many ways, yet now he felt drained, emotionally exhausted. Rylan winced. If he felt that way, he could only imagine how Scott was feeling. He hadn’t said much when he dropped Rylan off, other than he’d see him later.
The ladder-shaped bookcase in the corner caught his attention, along with the old blue sneakers on the bottom shelf. Rylan sat on the floor and ran his fingertips across them, over the knots in the ragged laces, the rents in the material. The blue was faded and worn, the iconic swoosh on one of them half-missing.
Tears stung Rylan’s eyes as he remembered that first day in Scott’s bedroom, how he’d noticed these ugly, battered shoes and wondered what they’d seen, the stories they could tell. Well, now he knew. What was it he’d said to Chris, that he’d spent the weekend picking at all the scabs Scott had? A sudden lump rose in Rylan’s throat, and he gave a choked sob. No, that wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. What he should have said is that he’d ripped Scott’s wounds open tooth and nail.
Heaving a ragged sigh, Rylan gave the shoes one final caress before he pushed to his feet. Jesus. On top of everything else, Scott was dealing with the renewed MC₂ endorsement being flung in his face without warning. Rylan couldn’t even imagine the noise in his head right now, the intersection of past and present…and all of it painful.
When Scott’s key scraped in the lock several hours later, Rylan braced himself, wondering what frame of mind he’d be in after dealing with Corey and the huge weight of expectation that had just been dumped unceremoniously on his shoulders.
He was gratified when Scott, instead of pushing him away like before, clutched to him like Rylan was his lifeline. Rylan sifted his fingers through Scott’s freshly washed and cut hair, the smell of lotion and nail chemicals about him strong. “Everything go okay?”
Scott cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed him gently. “More than okay. Mallory Creswell sent over the preliminary contract, and it’s amazing, Ry. Better than anything we’d hoped for.”
Rylan listened as Scott detailed the terms of the ninety-day contract, wincing internally at the schedule of parties, events, photo shoots, and other myriad appearances Scott would be booked for, including a week in Las Vegas hosting the grand opening of a rooftop pool club.
“Lots of investors to be wined and dined,” Scott said ruefully, letting go of Rylan and collapsing down at his kitchen table. “They need to be flirted with, flattered. It’ll be like a high-octane VIP gig at Spectrum, only it’s gonna last three days instead of three hours.” He sighed. “Then there’ll be pre-parties, the grand opening itself, after-parties…”
Rylan gave a squeak when Scott suddenly grabbed his hand and yanked him down onto his lap. “Tell me you don’t have a problem with all this shit, Ry, please. I haven’t signed anything yet…” He trailed off, his voice full of trepidation.
Moved beyond words that Scott was taking his feelings into consideration, Rylan draped his arms around his neck. “I knew exactly what I was getting into when I decided to get involved with you,” he said huskily. “And I also know how much this means to you. No, I don’t have a problem with any of it, as long as you’re happy.”
“I am. But Ry—” Scott hesitated. “You mean way more to me than any stupid contract ever will. Just want you to know that.”
Rylan felt a grin spread across his face, and he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss. He didn’t stop at just one, and soon they were both gasping for air and straining to get closer. They stumbled to the bedroom, leaving clothes strewn in their wake, their lovemaking fierce but tender.
Afterward, Scott slept in Rylan’s arms all night, his head pillowed on Rylan’s shoulder, his breathing deep and even. Rylan didn’t sleep, preferring to hold Scott close in order to savor this calm before the storm.
Because tomorrow, everything would change.