Saying that Cam had deep reservations about this party was the understatement of the year. This was the last place in the world he wanted to be, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he had agreed to come.
He took a sip of his whiskey. The Macallan Rare Cask was the only redeeming factor of the evening, its fragrance a rich vanilla and raisin. Cam stood in the corner, half-hidden by a giant plant that was more suited to some jungle forest than a New York living room. Out beyond the plant milled a growing group of men, all impeccably dressed and incredibly handsome. He took another sip of his whiskey—if he had to be here, he would be here drunk.
Cam’s best friend from high school and the unlikely host of the party, Cary Davis, found him in the corner. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cary.”
“You made it.”
Cam eyed his friend. “I don’t know why you have these parties if you hate them.”
Cary shrugged with a touch of resignation. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
“What reputation is that?” Cam scoffed.
Cary smirked but didn’t respond. Cam should have left it at that, but his accelerated consumption of excellent whiskey had loosened his tongue.
“Does your reputation have anything to do with sex parties?”
“Is that what Izzy told you this was?” Cary asked, amusement lightening his voice.
“She said it was a full-on orgy. Full-on gay orgy, to be exact.” Cam thought of Izzy’s cringe when Cam told her where he was going. Apparently, invitations were highly sought after and hard to come by. Cam had no idea his childhood friend had become so notorious while Cam had been overseas. “So, is it?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.”
“Orgy, it is.” Cam nodded. Not that he was opposed to getting laid—which was probably why he had agreed to come in the first place, now that he thought about it. But all the back and forth that preceded the act of fucking was enough of a turn off that he’d rather go home with his own hand.
“You can’t believe everything Izzy tells you.” Cary shook his head. “She’s prone to exaggeration.”
“That’s true. So, this isn’t an orgy?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So, what the hell kind of party is this?” He threw Cary some side-eye.
“It’s not an orgy. But people do tend to disappear at the end of the night in groups of two, or three, or more.” Cary shrugged again. “What they do after they leave is none of my business.”
“You’re unbelievable. The things you get up to when I’m not around to supervise.”
“Pish, as if you were ever the one supervising. How many times have I had to bail your ass out?”
Cam pressed his lips together and didn’t answer.
“Like I said, I have a reputation to uphold.” Cary swirled his drink in his glass. “I should go make the rounds.” But he didn’t move.
They gazed out at the party that moments ago had seemed so far away. But as guests—all men—continued to trickle in the front door, the mingling crowd closed in on their hiding spot, and the room shrank down around them.
“I need a new drink.” Even with the plant as a shield, Cam felt the press of bodies on his skin and heard the cacophony of voices ringing in his ears.
“Bar’s that way.” Cary nodded across the room.
Cam narrowed his eyes and debated how long he could hold out for. That was when the hum of the room faded, and the moving bodies slowed to a standstill. A newcomer stood by the door—Tyler Ang.
“What’s he doing here?” Cam asked.
Cary shot him a questioning look, but Cam ignored it, his eyes trained on how well Tyler’s suit showed off the width of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips. The collar of his shirt was undone, and his tie hung loose, leaving that little hollow at the base of his neck exposed.
Tyler had been making regular appearances in Cam’s thoughts during the past month since they’d flown home together. A month full of sleepless nights or bone-shaking nightmares, no appetite, and zero attention span at work. Then Cam would spot Tyler on TV—segments from Dadaab, or ones closer to home—and it would trigger Cam’s memories of warm eyes and a sly grin, his trim body and soft, long fingers.
“Tyler Ang? He’s been a couple of times. Usually quite popular. I’ve heard he gets around. There are probably some people who came tonight solely to try to catch him.”
When Cam didn’t respond, Cary continued. “Do you know him?”
Cary was watching him, but Cam didn’t want to take his eyes off the man across the room.
“We met in Kenya.”
“Yeah?” Apparently, Cary wanted more.
“We sat next to each other on the same flight back to New York.”
His view of Tyler was suddenly blocked as Cary stepped in front of him, lips tilted in a smug grin. “And?”
“And what?”
“Exactly. And what?”
“And nothing.” Cam stepped sideways, telling himself he wasn’t trying to look around Cary.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, then you can fuck off.”
Cary’s grin slipped. “Look, Cam. I know I invited you to a sex party, and I was hoping that you’d get laid tonight. But Tyler Ang’s not the person you want.”
Cary had his full attention now. “Why not?”
“He’s kind of a jerk, and kind of a slut.”
“And how would you know?”
He didn’t like how Cary hesitated before answering.
“There’s a grapevine. And this is my party. Look, he’s one of those guys who only looks out for himself, sights set on the top of the corporate ladder. I’ve heard he’s good in bed, but I think you deserve someone who isn’t a jerk.”
That description of Tyler wasn’t surprising, but then Cam remembered the way Tyler had reacted to his nightmare on the plane, the way he’d spoken about his mother and his lack of family. Cam knew all about how someone’s appearance might not match what was going on inside.
“I’ve been away a long time, Cary.” He felt every one of those years in that moment. “How do you know I’m not just as much of a jerk as he is?”
Cary flinched at the statement but didn’t argue. “All I’m saying is I don’t like him for you.”
“Fine. Thanks for the warning.” Cam moved in front of the damned plant, done with pretending he wasn’t trying to stare at Tyler.
When Cam found the tall, dark-haired man again, he was leaning in close as someone spoke into his ear, his hand on the other man’s arm. The casual grin on Tyler’s lips deepened as he listened, and then he burst out in laughter.
Cam’s stomach clenched—he needed that refill now. He did a quick scan of the room and mapped out the fastest route to the bar. Weaving through the crowd was risky, but at least safer than potentially running into Tyler by going around.
With a fortifying breath, Cam took off, squeezing into open spaces between bodies, side-stepping those who unexpectedly moved into his path. He was making good progress until a short, slim man dressed in tight purple leather pants and a long-haired fur vest materialized out of nowhere.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Maybe it was the lilting voice and the way he stood with a hip thrust out to the side, or the obvious interest in his kohl-lined eyes, but Cam took a step back, his defenses on high alert. His mind ran through all the exit routes he’d cataloged when he first arrived.
“Whoa, easy there, tiger.” The twink smiled at him, but rather than appear charming, it made Cam’s skin crawl.
“Excuse me,” Cam bit out from between clenched teeth, his heart pounding and his skin buzzing, every instinct in his body telling him to run.
“Oh, come on now. I’m Bobby. What’s your name?”
The twink took one step forward, and Cam matched him with another step back, his arm rising of its own volition to fend off the unwanted attention. “Not interested.” Sweat broke out across his forehead, and his collar felt too tight. “Sorry.”
The sickly sweet smile dropped from the twink’s mouth. “Well, good evening to you too.” He glared at Cam and melted back into the crowd.
He made it to the bar and chugged his first refill before waving the bartender over for another.
“You should try to savor that. It’s really good,” the bartender said as he poured another glass. He was right, but Cam didn’t care.
He took his glass, turned, and assessed the room for the best course to the French doors leading out to the rooftop terrace. His lungs itched for a hit of nicotine to complement the sting of alcohol in his gut. It required some fast ducking, but he made it outside without incident, shivering at the chilly September night.
He set his drink on the ledge that overlooked the twinkling lights of downtown New York, and pulled the pack of smokes out of his pocket. A quick spark of the lighter and a deep inhale. His nerves responded to the rush of nicotine and settled with a warm mouthful of whiskey.
The call of the darkness echoed, and Cam welcomed the sweet oblivion it offered, a protective buffer from the organized chaos of the party and of the world beyond. Cam exhaled, and tendrils of smoke curled around him. With slightly shaky fingers, he switched his cigarette to his left hand, afraid that the tense grip of his right would break the slim cylinder in half.
He’d left the field to escape the uneasiness he felt in his own skin, but he’d been home now for a month, and things were not getting better. Whatever this was—this sense that nothing was quite right, despite nothing really being wrong—had followed him back across the Atlantic Ocean and was sinking its claws deep. His only escape route was a constant flow of nicotine and increasingly regular jolts of alcohol.
“Hey.”
Cam whipped around in defensive mode, armed with the heavy glass in hand.
“Whoa.” Tyler took a step back with palms raised. “Sorry, I forgot you startle easily.”
The rush of adrenaline counteracted the chemicals already running through Cam’s veins, pulling him in and out of the darkness until he had to hold on to the ledge to steady himself.
“I wasn’t sure if it was you. But I think that reaction confirmed it.” Tyler’s laughter faded into a touch of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
Cam took deep drags on his cigarette and drained what was left of his whiskey in hopes of falling back into his dark place. “I’m . . . fine.” His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence as he bent over the ledge, elbows on the cold stone.
Tyler didn’t say anything, much to Cam’s surprise. Instead, he leaned a hip against the ledge, crossed his arms, and studied Cam with such intensity that Cam’s skin heated.
“I like the new look.”
“Huh?” Cam frowned.
“Your new look. You got rid of the hipster.”
It was only as Cam’s hand floated to his face that he remembered he no longer had a beard or a ponytail. “Izzy dragged me to a barber before I started my new job.” The good thing about his dark place was that he felt safe in it. The bad thing was that it loosened his tongue too much.
“She’s got good taste.”
Cam grunted, his gaze trained on his empty glass. Behind them hummed the din of the party, and in front of them hummed the City of New York. But on the terrace, silence fell, awkward and uncomfortable. Cam was in no condition to brave another trek back to the bar. And the cigarette he’d been working through had burned down to the filter—he debated whether he should light another.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“Really?” Tyler’s voice held a hint of amusement. “I’ve never seen you at one of these things before.”
He had a point. Cam scowled at his glass. “I’m friends with the host.”
“Cary Davis?” Tyler sounded surprised.
“We went to high school together.”
“Wow, I did not see that coming,” Tyler muttered, more to himself. “I would have thought he went to some fancy private school, considering his family is old money.”
“We did,” Cam deadpanned.
“Oh.”
If he wasn’t so preoccupied with the overstimulation of the party, Cam would have laughed at the awkward silence that followed.
“Anyway, so, you know what usually happens at these parties, right?”
Tyler leaned down so their elbows lined up next to each other, close enough that Cam could smell whatever intoxicating cologne Tyler was wearing—the scent was a match to the kindling of attraction deep in Cam’s gut.
“I was duly informed that these are sex parties.”
The laughter that burst from Tyler was a deep rolling thunder that reverberated across the stone ledge, up Cam’s elbows, and into his body. “So, are you planning on having sex with one of these fine gentlemen tonight?”
The thought of having to talk to any of those gentlemen gave Cam anxiety; he wasn’t sure how he would get to the sex. But there was one man he didn’t mind talking to. He worried his bottom lip before answering. “I hadn’t been planning on it earlier.” The words came out in a croak, and his heart raced.
“And now?” The question was uttered low and quiet, adding fuel to Cam’s growing desire. Clasping his hands around the tumbler did nothing to stop their shaking, so he gave in and lit another smoke.
As his lighter sparked a flame, Cam peered over his cigarette at Tyler. He had a look reminiscent of another inky-black night in the middle of the hot Kenyan savannah. Eyes half-lidded, mouth half-open, the tip of his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips.
When they parted ways at the airport, Cam had thought that would be the last he saw of Tyler, and he had satisfied himself with his brief memories of the man. But the truth was, he wanted another chance to feel the weight of Tyler’s body pressed against him, and he hadn’t realized how strong that desire was until now.
“Donnelly?” Tyler did that thing with his name again, his intonation dipping in all the right places as if he savored each syllable the same way Cam savored a sip of excellent whiskey.
Cam swayed toward him until their shoulders bumped. As the contact registered in his brain, alarm bells sounded—he was in public, touching another man, about to kiss him. All his instincts told him to clamp down on his desires and run.
But he wasn’t in the field anymore.
Still, he couldn’t help a quick look over the shoulder at the people inside. They probably would have cheered for the free show, but the potential audience was enough to keep Cam from closing the last inches to get at Tyler’s mouth.
The darkness pushed him forward. The instinct for self-preservation held him back. The tug-of-war pulled Cam so taut he felt like he’d rip in half. With a trembling hand, he brought his cigarette to his lips, the red-orange tip dancing erratically in the night. The nicotine wasn’t helping. “I need another drink.”
“How about somewhere less crowded?”
Tyler’s eyes were filled with desire, but apparently observant enough to understand Cam’s behavior. It was unnerving, and if Cam were slightly less drunk, or slightly less eager to get into those slim-fitting pants, he might have tried to throw up his mask.
Instead, his darkness urged him toward that pretty face, trim body, and all that calm, cool collectedness. A sudden image flashed through Cam’s mind: Tyler under him, hair tousled, lost in the heated haze of lust. He needed that more than he needed a drink.
Cam pulled himself to his full height, his body warm with the heat of desire. He took one last drag on his cigarette and then dropped the filter into his empty glass. “Let’s go.”
Tyler’s apartment looked exactly as Tyler did: straight out of the pages of a magazine. Everything was decorated in shades of gray, anchored by a black hardwood floor and white walls, with crystal accents throughout the space.
“Nice place.” Cam was afraid to touch anything.
“Huh?” Tyler looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, thanks. I hired a designer and let her have free rein.”
That explained it.
“Here.”
Cam took the glass tumbler from Tyler’s outstretched hand, with a brief brush of fingers. The cab ride from Cary’s had been uneventful, but rather than settle his nerves, it had only served to increase Cam’s anticipation. The small touch was like a waft of oxygen across slow-burning embers.
“Cheers.” Tyler held up his glass.
“Are we toasting again?” Cam asked, remembering the last time they’d shared a drink together.
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure that ended so well.”
“Good point. Cheers.” He clinked his glass against Tyler’s and took a sip.
How that night ended was an elephant in the elegantly decorated room. Tyler must have thought he was unhinged; Cam supposed he would have been right. But things were supposed to be different now.
“Um.” Cam swirled the amber liquid in his glass, not sure how to approach the subject. “About that night.”
Tyler moved to the couch and sat down, his long legs extended in front of him, crossed at the ankles. “Yeah?”
Cam followed but left enough room for a third person to sit between them. He braced his elbows on his knees, glass cradled in his hands.
“I, uh . . .” The inside of the glass glistened from the thin coat of whiskey. “Um, it’s . . .”
There was movement beside him, and Tyler’s hand covered his own, bringing the swirling glass to a stop.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
The scent of Tyler’s cologne penetrated that strange dark place inside Cam, drawing him closer. There were little black specs in Tyler’s golden-brown eyes, and although those eyes saw too much, Cam couldn’t help but be captured by them. His breath quickened. “That night. That’s not me anymore.”
Tyler’s thick brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not like that anymore. Or . . . I’m trying not to be like that.”
“Like what, exactly?”
Like crazy, Cam wanted to say. Except there had been times since returning home that he had felt crazy—and they seemed to be increasing in frequency. “Freak out. I’m not going to freak out this time.” At least he hoped he wasn’t going to.
It took a moment before Tyler’s lips curled into a heat-inducing grin. “Good. That’s good.”
Putting his glass on the coffee table, Cam leaned in and paused millimeters away from Tyler’s lips, waiting for that instinct of self-preservation to kick in. All he sensed was the tingle of anticipation and the stunning sense of liberty, so striking that it paralyzed him. He dragged in a shaky breath, desperately wanting but unable to close the final distance.
Tyler did it for him with a small tilt of his head and a simple press of lips. That was all Cam needed to sigh and melt into the kiss.
Finally, his actions aligned with what he knew was true on the inside, and it was a drug more potent than the alcohol he’d drunk tonight. Cam reached for Tyler and pulled him closer in chase of more of that high.
They lay horizontal on the couch, arms and legs tangled together. Tyler’s hands were all over him—in his hair, running down his back, squeezing his ass—each touch setting his body alight, proof that this was who Cam was meant to be.
Tyler nipped at his lip, and Cam gasped, only to be treated to the intoxicating scent of Tyler’s cologne. His mind was frazzled by that scent, and his lips wandered across Tyler’s jaw and down Tyler’s neck in search for more.
“Fuck,” Tyler whispered, arching into him, shaking.
Cam rubbed his face against the delicate skin at the base of Tyler’s neck, letting the mix of cologne and man fill his senses, enough to tease, but not enough to satiate.
“Ah, Cameron.” Tyler gasped, his fingers tightening painfully in Cam’s hair. “We need . . . Fuck. Condoms, Cameron. In the bedroom.”
His mind preoccupied with the delight of being intimate with a man again, it took some tugging and pushing to get Cam to stand up and follow Tyler down the hall. Even then, his hand in Tyler’s gave him the same thrill as the first time he’d held hands with a boy, despite there being no one here to witness it.
At the end of the hallway was a bedroom decorated in the same grayscale as the rest of the apartment, with an overstuffed armchair in the corner and a bed piled high with pillows.
Tyler wasted no time in getting naked, stripping off his clothes in practiced, certain motions and tossing them across the armchair. His casual confidence was such a sharp contrast to Cam’s nervousness and trepidation, leaving Cam to wonder why the hell Tyler would want to spend the night with him anyway.
“Like what you see?”
Who wouldn’t like that? Cam thought as he traced the lines and curves of Tyler’s body with his gaze. He hoped to hell that Tyler didn’t expect Cam to have a body to match.
“Come here.”
The words were spoken quietly and with enough huskiness that it made Cam’s mouth go dry, and stirred the glowing embers of desire. Cam didn’t consciously move, but suddenly Tyler was within arm’s reach, pulling him closer, and Cam’s hands settled on Tyler’s narrow hips.
Cam’s lips parted at the gentle coaxing of Tyler’s tongue, and he drank greedily from Tyler’s mouth. He pressed their bodies together and felt the unmistakable bulge of Tyler’s dick, still trapped in a pair of tight black boxer shorts, plumping against Cam’s hip. The evidence of Tyler’s arousal for him broke through Cam’s doubts, and he tore at his clothes with an urgency to feel skin on skin.
They tumbled onto the bed with less grace than Cam would have expected for a guy like Tyler, arms wrapped around each other, legs hooked around knees. Whatever Tyler’s reasons were for wanting to be with him, Cam would take it. He slipped his hands under Tyler’s underwear, filling them with the firm muscles of Tyler’s ass, and ground their cocks together, separated by nothing but two thin pieces of fabric. The embers burst into a steady flame, burning through Cam’s body and fueling his need to be inside another man and find completion.
“Ah, Cameron.” Tyler gasped. “Condoms.” He slapped the bed, pawing at the sheets.
Cam shifted to let Tyler sit up and grab what he needed. He pressed a foil packet and bottle of lube into Cam’s hand, then tilted his hips up to push his underwear down. Tyler’s dick lay across his stomach, hard with his foreskin retracted.
With a trembling hand, Cam traced the length of it with the tip of his finger, awe making him slow the movement to savor the heated, soft skin. He swiped the pad of his thumb across the contours of the head and thrilled when Tyler tensed and his dick jumped. The long-forgotten sense of wonder filled him as he took Tyler’s cock in his hand, the weight and heft of it both new and familiar at the same time. Gently, he drew the foreskin up over the end of the length and back down again, reacquainting himself with the profound satisfaction that came with bringing another man pleasure.
Cam stopped when Tyler tightly grasped his wrist.
“Are you going to tease me all night, or are you going to fuck me?” Gone was the normally composed, smooth-as-hell Tyler Ang. In his place was a man whose eyes were glazed over with lust, lips parted with heavy breathing.
The fire burning in Cam’s gut intensified, feeding off the look of want he read on Tyler’s face. Shucking off his own underwear, he rolled the condom on with an unpracticed hand, the coated latex slipping out of his fingers before he got it into place. By then, Tyler had repositioned himself, pulling his knees up to his chest, exposing his entrance to Cam’s view. The image etched itself into Cam’s memory: Tyler’s black hair messy against the white sheets, his skin shimmering from sweat, his hands under his knees, opening himself for Cam. Tyler was everything Cam was not, and yet he offered himself to Cam with no pretense or expectations.
Unwilling to look away from the sight before him, Cam patted the bed until he found the lube and squeezed a generous portion onto his hand. He shook as he bent over Tyler, touched to the core at having this man underneath him, surrendering to him.
Tyler’s eyes drifted shut as Cam’s fingers breached the tight ring of muscle. His breathing deepened, and Cam matched each inhale and exhale with the in and out of his fingers. Tyler was beautiful like this, skin flushed, chest heaving—Cam could stay like this all evening.
“Jesus, Cameron. Enough with the fingers. Fuck me already,” Tyler demanded as he reached for a kiss. Cam groaned into Tyler’s mouth and extracted his fingers to get himself into position.
Slowly, he fed his cock into Tyler’s body, then held himself still until they both adjusted. It had been so long since he’d been inside another man, he trembled with the need to fuck and feel alive again. “I’m not going to last long,” he warned.
“Then make it count,” Tyler growled back, wrapping his long legs around Cam’s waist.
The first pull out and hard thrust in left them both gasping for air. Cam dropped to an elbow and grasped Tyler’s hip with his other hand. His forehead fell against Tyler’s shoulder, the smell of Tyler’s skin driving him forward as much as Tyler’s cries of “harder, faster, harder.”
The pleasure of fucking Tyler roared through him like a raging fire until it consumed him. He buried himself deep into Tyler as relief overcame him. When Tyler came and yelled his name, it reverberated into the dark corners of Cam’s mind.
Cam collapsed on top of Tyler in a hot sticky mess of sweat and come. They caught their breaths while still entangled together, the air gradually cooling on their damp skin. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Cam was vaguely aware of a dip in the bed as Tyler got up and then returned wearing his briefs.
By the time Cam recovered enough to open his eyes, Tyler had cleaned himself up, fixed his hair, and lay next to him, head propped up in his hand.
“Hey.” The rawness of Tyler’s voice warmed Cam’s insides.
“Hey,” he responded.
Postcoital bliss hovered around them, silent and still save for their breathing.
“So, um, if you want, I can call you a cab. Or you’re more than welcome to stay the night.”
Cam blinked as the circumstances of their joining came back to him—this was how sex parties ended, he supposed.
“No, it’s fine.” Cam cleared his throat as he pushed himself to sitting with shaky arms. “I’ll call my own cab.”