Authors: Pender Mackie
Jesse definitely had to find a different job, and the sooner the better, though he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mike. They hadn’t hung out much lately since he’d been spending all his free time with Val.
Brad’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“What an asshole.” Brad chewed his lip. “You can report him, you know.”
“I know.” Jesse wasn’t sure if he would. “It would be my word against his, though. He didn’t come right out and say it. He let me figure it out.” And if he reported Chaz, he’d be telling admin he was gay.
“Shit. I didn’t think he was that big a bastard.”
“Yeah, well…” Jesse shrugged.
Brad clapped him on the shoulder. “Forget about him. He can’t make you do
And so far, Chaz hadn’t tried. A few days had gone by since Jesse’s walkabout. Chaz patently ignored him at rehearsal, during the show, even the meet and greet, and Jesse did the same. He wasn’t sure how long the cease-fire would last—Chaz was bound to lose his temper sooner or later—but he hoped he’d find a new job before they had another confrontation.
The stress of waiting for Chaz to blow up gave him a constant low-grade headache. Luckily there was a convenience store right inside the hotel complex. If he hurried, he had time to buy more overpriced acetaminophen before the show.
He stood in line for the register, rubbing his temples as tourists flowed past, headed for the lower levels that held the casino as well as more restaurants and bars. The air hummed with ambient noise as people talked and laughed. Music from shops and restaurants completed loudly for the tourists’ attention in a cacophony of sound. Normally Jesse liked the hustle and bustle of Vegas. It made him feel alive, filled with energy. But right now he just wanted to take something for his headache and go lie down somewhere quiet. First he had to get through one more show. Then he’d have all Monday to recover.
“Here.” Jesse slammed a quarter down on the counter, making both the tourist and the cashier jump.
The old man turned, and eyes clouded by cataracts gazed at him suspiciously.
Jesse clenched his jaw in frustration as the man blocked the counter while he put his coin purse in a zippered compartment of the canvas pouch strapped around his waist.
Finally he shuffled away, and it was Jesse’s turn. He paid for his purchase and hurried back to get ready for the show. He didn’t have much time. As he reached the food court next to the theater and bar, he stopped in his tracks. Ben Mitchum leaned against the wall, his thumbs tucked in the belt loops of his jeans, arms and shoulders stretching the seams of his polo shirt. Behind him was an enormous poster advertising the revue. From where Jesse stood it looked like Ben’s head rested on Chaz’s jean-clad thigh. Next to Chaz, Jesse’s almost-life-size image grinned down at them like an idiot. Ben had probably chosen to prop up that particular piece of wall on purpose.
Jesse approached reluctantly. There was no way he could get to the dressing room without passing the jock.
Ben pushed off the wall and smiled. “Hi, Jesse. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”
“You’re stalking me?” Jesse asked in disbelief.
Ben shrugged. “This is a hotel. It’s a public place.”
Jesse held his ground, too irritable to be cautious. Right now he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he annoyed his old high school nemesis. “You’re still here. I thought you said you were only in town for a few days.”
“I was. But I’m back. This time I’m here for the car auction.” Ben puffed his chest up with self-importance. “I’m a car detailer for Barrett-Jackson.”
Jesse’s temples throbbed. “Yeah, well. I don’t really care about cars or car auctions.”
Ben stopped smiling. “Lots of people do. Rich people especially. Those cars go for hundred of thousands.” He sounded a lot less friendly now.
On some level Jesse was aware of the ever-present noise and the steady procession of tourists. He noted and disregarded the curious looks from one or two pedestrians. Maybe they recognized him from the poster, or maybe they sensed the sudden upsurge of tension and the animosity flowing from Ben. It didn’t matter. What mattered was disengaging before the situation escalated. The rational thing to do was walk away.
“I have to go.” Jesse tried to leave, but Ben stepped out in front of him, blocking his path.
Ben reached out. He grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled. Jesse came to a sudden stop, spun sideways by the strength of Ben’s grip.
Ben’s fingers dug into Jesse’s biceps as he leaned in. “You never used to talk back.” The moist warmth of stale breath washed over Jesse’s skin, making it crawl. “I think I like you mouthy.”
Jesse wrenched his arm free and glared at Ben with all the contempt he felt. “Don’t touch me.”
Ben laughed as Jesse strode away angrily. “Break a leg, Jesse.”
When he got to the dressing room, Jesse was still furious. It wasn’t until he was changing for the show that he noticed the scratch. He’d been so mad he hadn’t felt anything.
He examined the mark. It wasn’t too bad. Just a raised pink welt a couple of inches long on his upper arm. No one would notice; the skin was barely broken. Ben must have worn some kind of ring, or maybe his big-assed metal watchband had caught Jesse as he’d pulled away. Jesse cleaned the graze with disinfectant. At least his headache was gone.
Jesse lay in Val’s bed, sated and relaxed after an afternoon of synapse-melting sex. The late-afternoon sun shone through the partially closed blinds as dust motes drifted lazily in the air. Sunlight striped the bed and Val’s body, giving him the appearance of a satisfied tiger. Jesse stretched languidly and rolled onto his side to face Val, breathing in the earthy scents of sweat and sex. He didn’t want to discuss Ben Mitchum. Not now. Not ever.
“Occupational hazard.”
Val’s jaw tightened. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Did you clean it?”
Jesse nodded. “It’s fine.”
Val huffed. “It doesn’t look fine. The skin’s broken.” He sat up and swung his legs
Copper glinted in Val’s hair as he crossed in front of the window, headed toward the bathroom. Jesse admired the supple bunch and glide of muscles under skin, the grace and strength in Val’s movements. With his form and physique Val probably could have been a dancer if he’d chosen that career path.
Val returned from the bathroom with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball. He wiped the damp cotton carefully over Jesse’s biceps.
“Those women are crazy. I’m starting to think some of them might actually be rabid,” Val said.
Jesse was silent. He hated lying to Val, but telling his boyfriend the truth would mean telling him about his humiliating last year of high school. He didn’t want to let Val see his shame or know just how pathetic and spineless he’d been. He chewed his bottom lip. Better for Val to think it was some overzealous party girl than his high school tormentor.
Val scowled as he threw the used cotton ball in the trash can. He flopped moodily onto his back and lay staring at the ceiling, arms folded.
“Thanks,” Jesse said.
Val didn’t answer. Jesse tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe you could kiss it better?”
Val leaned over and briefly kissed his skin, just above the welt.
“Does it hurt anywhere else?” The corners of Val’s mouth twitched, and his gaze was knowing.
“Everywhere,” Jesse said solemnly.
“What about this?” He mouthed the top of Jesse’s thigh, near the crease of his hip. “How does that feel?”
“Better.”
He felt Val smile against his skin. “Let’s see how much better I can make you feel.” Jesse spread his legs wider, making room for Val. He closed his eyes as Val knelt between them and trailed warm, wet kisses over his groin. His body responded, and his cock started to swell as Val licked the seam between his hip and thigh.
Val nipped gently, then soothed away the slight sting. He pushed at Jesse’s leg. Jesse bent his knee and rolled his hip open, exposing more of his inner thigh. Val palmed Jesse’s balls, his thumb dipping to rub the sensitive skin beneath. Jesse sucked in a shuddery breath.
Val slid the fingers of his other hand up and down Jesse’s shaft, the touch firm enough to stimulate but not enough to get him off. They’d both come more than once already, so there was no urgency. They could take their time, build each other’s pleasure slowly.
Jesse sighed with happiness. “God, what you do to me.”
Val looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “This is only a fraction of what I want to do to you.” He planted a hand on the bed and leaned forward to lick the base of Jesse’s dick and tongue his balls. Jesse murmured a protest as Val moved away from his erection, to the inside of his thigh, sucking and licking. Val’s thumb dipped lower to circle and press against Jesse’s yielding flesh, and Jesse stopped complaining.
Pleasure flowed through him, from the base of his spine up into his skull and out to his fingertips, his toes. His eyes fluttered closed. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone before you. You make me feel so good.”
His bones were softening, joints loosening. He was turning into one giant puddle of sweet sensation. It was indescribable, much more than mere physical pleasure. Dimly he was aware Val was still mouthing his thigh.
It took effort, but Jesse managed to speak. “You can’t give me a hickey.” Val tongued and sucked at his thigh as if he hadn’t heard.
Jesse struggled against arousal and pleasure. “Val, stop.” He pushed weakly at
Val’s head.
Val moved back and knelt between his shins, scowling.
Jesse sat up. The mark on the inside of his leg was dark red and as big as a plum.
He touched it gingerly with a fingertip. “Jesus.”
Val wiped his mouth on his forearm. He met Jesse’s gaze defiantly. “It’s a love
bite.”
“You did it on purpose.” The sweet lassitude and his arousal were gone, though
his dick was still semihopeful. “How am I going to hide this?”
Val’s scowl deepened. “You shouldn’t have to hide it.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Jesse scrambled off the bed. “Everything I do affects
my job. I can’t just do whatever the hell I want. I have to exercise regularly, count carbs,
stay hydrated. I have to wax and exfoliate, for Christ’s sake. You have no idea what it’s
like.”
He pushed his hair off his face with both hands. The promo manager had been at the show last night, watching from the wing. He hadn’t found time to talk to Mike about gay-friendly restaurants. This morning his mom had phoned. The trip to Vegas was a go, though his parents hadn’t worked out a date yet. He kept running into Ben Mitchum, and he still didn’t know what the jock who’d caused him so much anguish in high school was up to.
Here in the oasis of Val’s bed he’d managed to forget for a few hours, but now it was all flooding back. Everything he’d been bottling up—worries about his job, Chaz’s disgusting demands, his parents’ visit, his creepy encounters with Mitchum—just exploded. Made him say things he shouldn’t say.
Val leaped off the bed. He stood toe-to-toe with Jesse, leaning in, hands clenched at his thighs. “So it’s okay if someone claws you, makes you bleed, but you won’t let me put one tiny mark on you?”
Val’s outrage fueled his own. He’d backed down so often in his life, but no more. Not even when he knew he should. “It was an accident, and a huge fucking hickey isn’t a ‘tiny mark.’”
“You were spying on me?” Jesse sat on the bed, his legs suddenly weak. His mouth was dry, and his stomach felt like it was in free fall.
Val shook his head. “I was restocking the second bar. I saw you argue with that man and then pull away. I’ve seen him talking to you before, but when I asked, you told me he was a tourist.” Val’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He touched the scratch on Jesse’s arm with his fingertips. “Who is he, Jesse?”
Jesse threw up his arms. “Is that what this is about? Some asshole accidentally scratches me, and you try to brand me like a side of beef?”
Val’s eyes widened. He stalked away and pulled on his jeans in rough, angry movements. “I’m really trying, but it’s hard enough pretending we’re nothing more than friends while those women paw you every night, and now you’re keeping secrets.”
Pain bloomed sharp and bright behind Jesse’s sternum, and he lashed out. “Don’t sound so noble. You’re just jealous and insecure, plain and simple.”
Val grabbed his shirt and shoved his arms in the sleeves. “Maybe I have reason to be. I see you with those women, see them touch you every night. I can’t do that in public. I can’t even look at you the way I want to.” He swallowed. “I want it to be just us. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I know that makes me petty and selfish, but it physically hurts me to see you degrade yourself for those women.” He kicked at a discarded hoodie. “And now some muscle-bound gym bunny is sniffing around, and you’re lying to me.”
The ache in his chest evaporated with the heat of his fury. “You think I’m cheating on you?”
Val paced the room, the sides of his shirt flapping. “I don’t know what to think, but you’re not being honest with me. You’re hiding something.”
Jesse didn’t have to stand here and take this crap. He snagged his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, not taking the time to look for his underwear. He let all the frustration bleed out into his voice. Even as he spoke, he knew he was directing it at the wrong person. That he was damaging what they had, maybe irreparably, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from self-destructing. “You sanctimonious prick.”
Val stiffened, and his face went red. A muscle jumped in his jaw, but Jesse was way past caring if he pissed Val off. The buzzing sound filling his ears almost drowned out his words.
“You stand there with your nice respectable job, trying to trip me up because you don’t trust me. Make me say something happened that didn’t. Did you ever stop to think maybe I don’t like to talk about things that humiliate and embarrass me? No, you just assume that I enjoy stripping down to next to nothing, fending off women I’ll never want to sleep with because I’m fucking gay. Remember? And I am not cheating on you.”
The air between them crackled with tension. Val opened his mouth, but Jesse cut him off.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m gonna tell you a couple of things. That guy you saw me with? He’s just an asshole I went to school with. He’s no one. And while you’re leading the Spanish fucking Inquisition, I’ll tell you how I feel about stripping. I hate it. I hate it so much I’m gonna quit.”