

### Saving Liam

### By

### D.P. Denman

Copyright North Shore Press 2014

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-0-9896123-4-0

Smashwords edition

Discover other titles by D.P. Denman at http://www.dpdenman.com

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did

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Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

Cover design by L.C. Chase

Thank you to Piper, Sarah, Wulf, and Pat.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events

and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or used in a

fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual

events is purely coincidental.

Warning: This book contains scenes of nonconsensual sex.

Skytrain is a registered trademark of Translink

Metrotown is a registered trademark of Ivanhoe Cambridge
Table of Contents

Warning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 1

He hated Tuesdays. Hated them beyond mere loathing, but he didn't have a word for what came after loathing. Despised seemed far too civilized.

Liam stood in the bedroom with his back to the mirrored closet doors so he wouldn't have to look at himself and ignored the brush of heavy terrycloth against his skin. That robe represented everything he hated about his life. His stomach churned with resentment that made it tempting to lock himself in the bathroom. Too bad that wouldn't do any good.

He heard the dreaded knock at the front door on the far side of the apartment and the knot in his stomach pulled tight. There had been a time when that sound had made him want to hurl chunks. He supposed the lack of terror was an improvement of sorts.

"You ready, Babe?" Cord called from the living room.

"Yeah," he called back, "why the hell not," he muttered to himself.

He padded out of the room struggling to feel something besides annoyance as Cord opened the front door to welcome the man he'd be sharing a bed with for the next eight hours. He was compact and bulky with short-cropped bottle-blonde hair, and a tan he obviously hadn't gotten from the Vancouver sun.

Liam flopped into a chair near the kitchen and pretended to be engrossed in one of Cord's trade magazines. He saw no reason to acknowledge the rented cock of the day until absolutely necessary. Instead, he flipped pages while Cord talked about positions and emotion in a lecture he didn't need to hear. He'd been doing this twice a week every week for years. He knew the routine. It didn't matter that a hundred shoots a year wasn't the industry standard. It was Cord's standard.

He ignored Bulky Blonde as the actor stripped out of his clothes to give Cord a look at what he had to work with that afternoon. There was nothing new on that body. They all looked the same: tan, toned, and tattooed. He didn't need to see it. He'd get a very good look over the course of the day.

He stifled a sigh he knew would sound petulant and turned another page without seeing anything on it. Cord hated it when he pouted. He could be angry and resentful as long as he did what he was told. Pouting would just get him a pep talk full of lies. Those weren't new either.

He saw Bulky Blonde step to him out of the corner of his eye and pasted on his best smile before looking up to meet his gaze. Being difficult and aloof with the rented cocks only dragged out the torment. When they were tense, they did things wrong and the more they got wrong the more time he had to spend with them. He stood up and tossed the magazine in the chair before shaking Bulky Blonde's hand.

"I've seen a few of your videos," Bulky Blonde told him. "I like your work."

"Thanks."

He couldn't say the same and he wasn't in the mood to lie.

Introductions were over, which meant it was time to get to work. The knot in his stomach pulled tight as the buzz of anxiety spiked, thundering through him loud enough to make him shudder. He scrunched his toes into the carpet, relaxed them and scrunched them again in a rhythmic exercise that gave him something to concentrate on so he wouldn't scream. He blocked out the sound of Cord fiddling with the tripod across the room and shoved the stabbing, biting resentment into a far corner of his mind. He was going to do this without crying like a baby or begging Cord to call it off. None of that ever worked, and if he wanted to get this over with in less than twelve hours, he needed to suck it up.

Cord peered through the lens of his camcorder for a second before striding to the bed to adjust the comforter. Then he was back to the tripod for another look.

"I think we're ready," Cord announced.

He took a breath and strode to the bed that dominated their living room. Cord called it a set. He thought of it as the epicenter of his nightmare. Opaque curtains covered the sliding glass door across the room to let in the light but obscure the view of their Burnaby neighborhood. Bright photography lamps stood opposite the bed to add a glow to the room and ensure everything was visible for the camera. The color of the sheets changed, the music changed, the men Cord brought into the apartment changed. The only constant was him and the damn camera that made it all necessary.

He was a porn star, but the title was perverse and laughable. He wasn't a star. He didn't live in a mansion. He didn't ride around in a limo. He was just a guy living a recurring horror who refused to think about the collection of loyal internet viewers that were intimately familiar with his body. It was better to pretend it was all for Cord's amusement because the truth was too ugly to face.

Cord called "action", and he replaced the smile with a look of anxious desire as he settled into his designated role of the inexperienced twink at the hands of a well-hung stranger. It didn't matter that he'd played that same scene for years. Cord told him the viewers still loved it and he had no choice but to take his word for it. He had no choice about a lot of things.

Bulky Blonde rested a hand against his face and kissed him. That was his cue to drift away. He didn't need to be present for the rest of the shoot when it was always the same routine. Instead, he sat on a deserted beach in his mind feeling the warm sand under his feet and the sun on his skin. He didn't feel the kisses. He didn't feel hands on his body. His uncertain expression when Bulky Blonde forced his head to his cock for a blowjob was as fake as the exaggerated grimace would be when that same cock burrowed into his ass. He'd play it up, complete with gasping and whimpering about how big Bulky Blonde was, but it was just an act. His body was playing a role as if he hadn't been ridden by a hundred different guys in that very room. The rest of him was listening to the birds and the gentle rush of waves on the shore while he watched boats drift past.

Then Cord called "cut" and his beach disappeared. The keyword jerked him back to reality, jarring him out of his fantasy. There was no more clean sea air just the smell of sex and sweat.

"Let's take a ten minute break," Cord announced.

"Mind if I smoke?" Bulky Blonde asked.

"No, just do it out on the balcony."

He crawled off the bed feeling manhandled and sore as Bulky Blonde offered a tired comment about him being a better lay than he'd thought.

He didn't know why they were always surprised. Either they thought he really didn't have any idea what he was doing despite two years of shoots or they expected his ass to be like fucking an inner tube. He never asked for an explanation. He didn't care either way.

He left his bathrobe on the floor by the bed, giving it as little attention as he gave Bulky Blonde while Cord stripped the bed to change the sheets. Gay porn was a messy business.

He strode across the room and closed himself in the bathroom to shower. Tossing back the curtain, he turned on the water and let it warm up while he dug an enema bottle out of the collection they had under the sink. He had a routine he refused to think about any more than he did the rest of it. He cleaned up while the cock of the day grabbed a snack or a smoke and then they went right back to sex.

If there was any glamour in being a porn star, he couldn't see it.

Chapter 2

Hours later Liam stepped into the shower one more time without waiting for it to warm up. A cold spray beat against his shins, growing warmer a little at a time until he could stand under it without gasping from the shock. He was aching and exhausted after eight hours of fucking. He didn't want to be touched again for at least a month.

He held his head under the spray and let the thought swirl down the drain with the remains of saliva and cum. His body wasn't his own and hadn't been for a long time. There was no point wanting what he couldn't have.

He heard the door open on the other side of the curtain and ignored it as he scrubbed shampoo into suds on his head. He did the same with the rustling of the shower curtain and the hands caressing their way down his body as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. The shoot might be over but the routine that went with it wasn't.

"You looked great today." Cord mumbled against his skin as he kissed his shoulder. "You always look great." A hand followed the trail of water down his body for a moment before Cord pressed against his back and wrapped arms around him holding him still.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"I love watching you work. I have the sexiest boyfriend in the country."

He nodded and Cord nudged his feet apart. He winced at the shower wall when Cord held him close and used the water and remaining lube to slide into a place Bulky Blonde had already been numerous times. It marked the part of the day where Cord reclaimed his territory. He almost liked this part. He could have lived without Cord moving in a place already tender from the last guy but the hand wrapped around him made it all worth it.

He spent half the day with a hard-on, his body reacting even if the rest of him wasn't paying any attention. The rented cocks ignored it because the twink getting off wasn't the point of the scene. Cord filmed him shooting his load once during the course of the day but the rest of the time the focus was on keeping him hard, not doing anything about it once he got there. The drugs did most of the work. Hands occasionally tugging at him did the rest. Getting rid of it wasn't a concern.

Those brief moments in the shower with Cord finally giving him a release he didn't have to give himself were the only pleasure he got out of the deal. He groaned to the shower wall and this time he meant it as he let Cord take what he wanted, filling him the way no one else did. His ass was community property but Cord always made them use condoms. There was only one cock allowed to go bareback and it was the one providing the baseline in a concert of pleasure, building to a riotous finale where he stood bent over in the shower supporting himself on the faucet.

He gasped Cord's name as he came and Cord grunted his release a moment later. Then everything stopped. He stood up and Cord gave his shoulder a final kiss, grazing it with his teeth before he slapped his wet ass and stepped out of the shower.

Cord wasn't big on cuddling. He saw affection as foreplay. When the sex was over so was that. In a perfect world, it would have been nice to fall asleep in his arms but he knew from experience it didn't work that way.

He shut off the water and pushed the curtain aside to grab a towel. As harsh as that day had been and as much as he resented participating in it, he knew Cord loved him. It just wasn't a traditional kind of love. He didn't bother complaining about the lack of cuddling or affection. He'd had traditional love once and it was overrated.

He toweled off and padded to the bedroom to find clothes. He had the evening to himself for his own little post shoot routine. He tugged on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and settled on the weight bench in the corner of their crowded bedroom. His workout routine wasn't very strenuous because it was designed to maintain his wiry physique not build any real muscle. Cord wanted him to look like the fifteen-year-old boy he wasn't anymore. On film, he was supposed to be a scrawny young piece of ass, so no bulk and no time in the sun because he needed to look a little pale. That part wasn't a problem. Getting a tan in Vancouver required a tanning bed, and that cost money they didn't have. His version of stardom didn't come with a fat bank account.

He finished the minimal workout and wandered to the kitchen for something to eat. He tugged open the refrigerator full of vegetables and lean meat. There wasn't a trace of junk food or pop anywhere in the apartment. Cord wanted him thin because it was impossible to pull off the helpless virgin routine if he looked like the eighteen-year-old he was. The contrast between him and the actors who showed up to drill him had to be stark.

He grabbed an apple and kept his back to the living room as he devoured it one bite at a time. There was no way to ignore the still rumpled bed at the center of their apartment and no way to avoid the annoyance it inspired. He needed to be somewhere else for a while, a place that didn't remind him of the whore he'd become.

He tossed the apple core in the trash and stepped into a pair of shoes.

"I'll be across the hall," he called out and tugged open the front door.

His favorite part of the day was wandering over to visit his neighbor, a cute hunk of man named Justin. He had a video game console, and sitting on the couch drinking diet pop playing games with him was the highlight of his life. He refused to consider what that said about the state of his existence.

He knocked on the door and waited with an eager smile, one that slid away when he realized no one was home. So much for losing himself in a video game fantasy world. With nothing else to do, he stepped back into the apartment to trade sweats for jeans, grabbed his coat and went for a walk.

It was less than a mile to Metrotown, the cyclopean cluster of buildings huddled around the biggest mall in British Columbia. When he had nowhere else to go he wandered the indoor maze window-shopping, or found a vacant bench and watched people shuffle by. They had a television in the apartment and he could have zoned out in front of it for an hour or two but it was in the living room. He was rarely in the mood to sit in Cord's torture chamber and watch. He preferred the mall. He could easily pass a few hours people watching and no one would pay him any attention.

He settled in a recliner that doubled as a vibrating chair while people walked by without giving him a second glance. If they did, he didn't notice. He was too busy trying to decide whether he wanted to get up and get a pretzel. If he snuck treats too often he'd put on weight and he didn't want to know what sort of rules Cord would impose if that happened. It was bad enough he was always pushing him onto the scale and lecturing him about what he ate. Considering the workout he'd just had he doubted a pretzel would hurt anything.

He pushed out of the chair and strode across the tile floor as his stomach gave an eager growl. He'd been on a liquid and laxative diet since yesterday. He was in the mood for more than an apple. He got a pretzel with salt and munched happily on the warm dough as he wandered past window displays he knew by heart.

Chapter 3

Justin strode across the expansive hotel lobby, loafers patting on the granite tile as he swept his gaze from the front desk to the concierge station. A steady trickle of guests flowed toward the front door with attendants and luggage in tow.

Like every hotel, Sunday was turnover day at the Rosenthal. Guests flowed out and in a couple of hours new ones would flow in. The lack of pile-up at the front desk meant the in-room check out system was working. It was a very different scene when it wasn't.

The cell phone clipped to his waist let out a quiet chime and he slid it from its holster. It did that a lot. He was the man in charge of resolving guest problems and fielding complaints so he spent most of his day handling people who were used to the luxuries a well-padded bank account allowed.

"This is Justin,"

"It's Lisa. There's a guest complaint up on twenty-two."

"What is it?"

"They want a different brand of coffee in their room."

"Which room and which brand?"

She told him. He recognized the name as a blend that hovered near seventy-five dollars a pound. It was a common request from the upper floors.

"Let me check on it. I'll call you back in a minute," he told her, and stuffed the phone back in its holster.

He stepped to one of the computers at the far end of the front desk and a few clicks of the keyboard later had the guest profile for the room with the finicky pallet. He noted their current hotel bill and did a quick internet search of their name.

The Rosenthal was the second best five-star hotel in Vancouver pushing hard for first, which meant there was no such thing as ignoring a guest's request. They tried to pamper everyone who came through the door, but cost and clout were the keys to determining how far they went to do it. When the search came up with nothing he had his answer. The guest wasn't a public figure or high-powered CEO, but the amount of money they were spending on the room gave them the right to be a little finicky about the coffee. It didn't warrant seventy-five dollars a pound, but it came close.

He called housekeeping and told them to switch that room to one of their specialty coffees. Then he called Lisa to have her relay the information that a new batch of coffee pods was on the way up. She'd have to lie a little and say the brand they wanted wasn't available, but white lies were part of the job.

He was just hanging up when another member of his staff came striding toward him with a small flat, square box in hand.

"I got the marzipan and chocolates for 2718," Kelly said.

"Great. Let me see."

She opened the box marked with the name of a chocolatier downtown.

"We're sure they're the right flavor?"

"Maple liqueur," Kelly nodded. "I watched them pack it myself."

"Perfect. Put them on a silver tray and add one of the welcome notes."

2718 was on his list of VIPs and unlike the room with the coffee issues, this one had a name that sprouted up all over the place in a web search. As soon as housekeeping was finished turning over the room he was going to check the suite to make sure it was perfect.

"Will do," Kelly nodded. "Ready for your big date?" A playful grin lit her face.

"As ready as I'm going to be. I won't regret this, right? Because your review is coming up in a couple of months and setting me up with a douchebag won't help."

"He's not a douchebag, I swear. He just has a knack for falling for the wrong guy. Since you're not the wrong guy you two should hit it off perfectly."

"And I have your personal guarantee on that?"

"Of course." She tilted her chin toward the ceiling and turned on her heel. "This is the Rosenthal, after all," she said in a clipped, haughty tone.

"Oh brother." He rolled his eyes.

"I'll let you know when the room's ready," she tossed back with a smile.

"Thank you."

He wasn't a fan of blind dates. He didn't know anyone who was, but Kelly said she had the perfect man for him and he supposed a blind date was better than no date. He hadn't been out with anyone in months. Long hours at work didn't help. A minimal social life outside of work didn't help either. He wasn't desperate enough for a dating service or weekends of clubbing so that left him with chance encounters on the Skytrain. It wasn't much of a system. If this date didn't work, maybe he'd reconsider joining that men's book club he'd heard about. Of course, if he did that he'd have to find time to read.

His phone chimed again and he pushed the concept of his starving sex life into the background. He had more important things to worry about. For example, a whirlpool tub that had leaked into the suite below, and a disgruntled guest with a list of demands. He strode through the lobby toward the back halls and the service elevator. Pushing the call button, he adjusted his tie and prepared to go toe-to-toe with a man who had water dripping from his bathroom ceiling and a puddle growing on the floor. Maintenance was handling the leak. He had to handle the guest.

Plucking the phone from his belt, he called the concierge station in the lobby and scheduled a room change for the man with the soggy bathroom and the couple with the broken whirlpool. He sent a small flock of attendants to help with packing and moving, and flagged their accounts for special treatment for the remainder of their stay. There was no way the hotel manager wasn't going to hear about this but if he handled it right they might get a compliment out of it rather than a complaint.

With his team in motion, he called housekeeping to let them know maintenance was working on the leaky whirlpool and was sure to leave a mess. Liz was thrilled.

"At least it's not an overflowed toilet," she sighed.

He smiled. "Just wait. The day's still young."

Chapter 4

The next day Justin tugged open the glass door of a restaurant downtown and stepped out of the drizzle into Ricchi's brightly lit bar. So far, there was nothing typical about this particular blind date. Monday evening was an unusual choice. So was a place that had a jacket and tie dress code. His date was either trying to impress or using it as a way to weed out undesirables who couldn't afford a nice suit. He wasn't sure what that said about the man, so he decided to reserve judgment for a few hours.

The hostess led him out of the bar and into the main restaurant with its dim light and warm colors. He followed her through a maze of tables to a small one near a wall of tinted windows where his date sat waiting. He was trim with short hair parted on the side. His suit and tie were dark. So were his eyes.

Rich's gaze bounced to him then to the hostess and back to him.

"Justin?" Rich rose to his feet.

"Yes."

"Hi, I'm Rich." He held out his hand and they shook. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too." He settled into the empty chair.

He ordered a glass of wine from the server who appeared behind the hostess and then cast a quick glance around the room.

"I hope you don't mind the choice," Rich said. "I didn't want bad food or bad service to make a mess of our first date and I know this place."

"It's fine." He brought his attention back to Rich. "I've never been here before so this is an adventure."

Rich smiled, dimples burrowing into both sides of his face. "Kelly tells me you work over at the Rosenthal."

"Yes, Manager of Guest Services."

"And what does the Manager of Guest Services do?"

"I make sure all the guests have exactly what they want or at least close enough to count."

Sculpted eyebrows slid up Rich's forehead. "That sounds like quite a job."

"It has its days, though it's not as bad as it probably sounds. There are other people over things like housekeeping, and room service. For the most part I only deal with concierge issues and the lobby."

"Oh, is that all." Rich offered a sarcastic smile and took a sip of wine. "So when someone's not happy with the hotel's choice of towels that falls where?"

"Most of the time Housekeeping."

"'Most of the time?'."

"A lot of complaints come through the concierge line so in some cases it's easier for us to handle it instead of passing it off to someone else." He said without getting into details about some guests getting special treatment.

"I bet you have some great stories."

"A few." He smiled.

The tales he'd accumulated over the past several years could fill a book. He'd seen and heard just about everything from guests dismantling televisions hoping for a room upgrade to stealing bathroom fixtures so they could reinstall them at home. They'd had their share of trashed suites after parties or by guests who saw no reason to use common civilized behavior while on vacation. He didn't envy the housekeeping staff the things they had to clean out of some of the showers.

They'd also had sudden violent illness, drunken guests almost drowning in whirlpools, and two heart attacks. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell any of those stories because discretion was as much a part of the job as customer service. Instead, he shifted the conversation somewhere else.

"What do you do?"

"I'm in insurance; claims, to be accurate."

"I bet you have some stories of your own."

"A few." Rich smiled.

The conversation stalled when the server brought his wine. He took the opportunity to scan the menu and they ordered.

"Tell me a little about yourself." Rich settled back in his chair with a glass of dark ale. "What do you do when you're not fielding complaints?"

"Not a lot, I'm afraid. I like plays, movies, and the occasional Whitecaps game, but it's not much fun going by myself. My only real hobby, if you can call it that, is video games. What about you?"

"Pretty much the same. I work a lot, though I have to admit long hours are by choice in my case. It's better than spending the evening at home alone."

He could relate. "Here's to having a reason to work less." He raised his glass and a brief fragile note sang out as he touched it to Rich's.

"I'll drink to that."

They covered the basics of where they lived and where they'd grown up as they dug into the first course. Rich had a Townhouse in Yaletown, which fit perfectly with the nice suit and choice in upscale restaurants. It all spoke to a successful man.

He was far from a pauper himself but was almost afraid to admit he lived in a rundown apartment in a part of Burnaby doing a slow slide into the trash bin. He could have rented a condo in a better neighborhood but he was sick of renting. The next time he went through the hassle of moving he wanted it to be to a place he owned. In Vancouver, that cost big money, so a good chunk of his paycheck went into his savings account to join a growing pile of cash gathering dust and interest. Someday he'd have enough for a down payment on something in a better neighborhood with a better view, just not in time to impress Rich.

It was just as well. If he was going to get involved with someone, he wanted it to be honest, not a bunch of superficial horseshit. If Rich's interest in men was based on their earning potential, it was better to find that out early. He confessed the neighborhood he called home and got a nod in response. If it bothered Rich, he couldn't tell.

He was a difficult man to categorize and that intrigued him. It was possible the trappings of his choice in clothes, food, and neighborhoods meant nothing other than Rich could afford them. Some people were like that.

Spending almost sixty hours a week around opulence and pretension had taught him that under all the money, jewelry, and fancy clothes were people. The insecure ones flaunted what they had in a never-ending quest for approval. Others steered clear of the stereotype and strode around the hotel in department store jeans and cotton shirts without giving so much as a hint that they were multi-millionaires. There was a variety of shades in between.

Rich could fall in any of those categories so he set the façade aside and listened to the man telling stories, smiling, nervously turning his glass in circles. He didn't give off an air of smug arrogance. He radiated a contradiction of shy confidence. From the way he spoke, Rich was sure of the insurance man side of himself but not the rest.

They finished dinner and moved their conversation to the bar. Without the table between them, the shy part of Rich's demeanor shone through as he cast glances between him and the bar. When Rich's gaze finally stuck, deep brown eyes watched him as he spoke, taking in every word. A hand rested on his arm and he stumbled in his story making Rich smile.

"I'm sorry. I forgot what I was saying."

"That's ok. I hope you don't think it's too forward of me to say this but if we were anywhere else right now I'd be very tempted to kiss you."

So much for shy.

"I don't think it's too forward." He smiled back, "because I'd be very tempted to let you."

Rich's gaze shifted back to the bar for a moment as the smile disappeared behind a scowl that wrinkled the space between his eyebrows.

"I need to be honest with you." Brown eyes found him again. "I'm not in a place right now where I want to rush into anything. I want to take things slow, assuming you're even interested."

He rested a hand over the one still on his arm. "I'm at least interested enough for a second date."

The smile returned. "I know it's bad form to talk about ex's on the first date, but I think it's only fair to tell you where I'm coming from. I was in a relationship with someone for almost five years before we broke up. He's been gone a while but this is my first attempt at getting back into dating and I don't want to go running into something without thinking it through."

"How long is 'a while'?"

"About six months. It's over. I haven't seen him since he left, but there was a lot between us."

"I can understand that."

"I don't want you to think I'm still pining away for him because I'm not, but wanting to go slow isn't just a line for me. I'm serious."

"How slow is slow?"

"Slow enough that I picked this place on purpose to ensure even if I wanted to kiss you...and I do...I wouldn't. I like you. I think we could fit together very well but I don't want to fall into this all at once."

He twitched a smile. "Which is a very diplomatic way of saying you have no intention of having sex on the second date."

"Pretty much. If you can deal with waiting, I'd like to see you again. If you can't, I'll understand."

"I don't mind a little suspense."

"How much is 'a little'?"

He smiled. "I'll let you know when it starts to get old."

The hand left his arm as Rich reached up to brush the back of his fingers across his face before landing right back where it had been. Then he flicked a glance across the room and slid from his stool.

"As much as I hate to say this, I have to get going."

He glanced at his watch surprised that three hours had passed.

"I really wish I could kiss you good-bye," Rich added.

"I don't know. That could be dangerous."

He was only half kidding. There was something between them, at the very least attraction and that was all it took to fall into bed. He wasn't used to men who moved that slow but he was willing to try something a little old fashioned if it made Rich more comfortable. A real romance might be a nice change, assuming it worked.

"Yes, it could." Rich gave his arm a squeeze. "I'll call you," he offered before striding toward the door.

He let Rich get outside before sliding off his barstool and heading out the door behind him. There was a chill to the air. Clouds huddled in the sky threatening something more than drizzle as he walked up the sidewalk to the Skytrain station. He stood on the platform with a scattering of other people and waited in silence until the train arrived. It slid to a stop and the doors rumbled open on a half-full car. He stood holding the railing as the city rushed by unnoticed, too preoccupied with Rich and the possibilities ahead to pay attention to anything else.

Five years was a long time to be attached to someone. He liked that Rich was purposely avoiding a rebound. He liked that he knew how to make a relationship work that long. He liked that he wasn't interested in a short, intense fling. He could put up with saying goodnight without so much as a hug, at least for the time being.

Anticipation and curiosity over the taste of Rich's lips and the smell of his skin followed him across the city to Metrotown where he and half the car wandered out onto the platform. He descended the stairs to the bay of busses below and passed them by trying to keep eager anticipation from spinning out of control as he walked home.

The first test was whether Rich actually called him. Cautious wasn't all that far from skittish. Rich might decide he wasn't ready to get back into dating after all and forget that evening had ever happened. He was better off not getting his hopes up. Too bad he already had.

Chapter 5

The next morning Justin pulled into a vacant space behind the apartment building and tugged grocery bags out of the trunk of his car. With arms and hands full, he headed inside, trudging up the stairs to his third story apartment. He was halfway down the hall when his cell phone chimed in his pocket. He set the bags down to fish the phone out of his jeans.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's Rich. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

He broke into a grin. "Not quite. Hold on a second."

He set the phone on top of the groceries, picked up the bags and continued the walk to his apartment. He left them on the floor just inside the door and fished the phone back out of the bag where it had slid further inside.

"Sorry about that. Had my hands full and conveniently left my blue tooth at home," he said as he closed the door.

"No problem. I can call back if you want."

"No, that's ok. Everything's under control."

"Good." He could hear the smile. "I had a great time last night."

"So did I."

"If you're still interested I'd love to do it again. Maybe someplace a little less formal."

"That sounds great."

"What are you doing on Sunday around brunch?"

"Working."

"Oh." The disappointment was obvious.

"I work Thursday to Monday."

"So then weekend excursions are out, eh?"

"Unless I take the day off."

"I don't know that a second date warrants taking time off."

"Probably not."

"Then how about dinner Friday night?"

"That will work."

"And you can pick the place this time."

"Any food preferences?"

"I'm open."

"Good. Let's say seven. I'll call you with the place."

"Fine with me."

"Then I'll see you Friday."

"I'm looking forward to it."

He grinned as he put away groceries. He was eager to see what attraction became without the stuffy atmosphere. He didn't think a kiss on a second date was pushing things too far but he wasn't going to get the chance in a crowded restaurant. What he needed was a place near a venue where they could walk and talk afterwards. The West End had a few of those and the fact that it would be within reasonable driving distance of Rich's townhouse didn't hurt either. If Rich decided to throw caution to the wind and have sex, they'd have a place to go other than the backseat of a car like a couple of teenagers.

He paused in his unpacking of grocery bags to turn on his laptop. He had a list of great upscale restaurants on the tip of his tongue. He'd memorized them long ago for work but it wasn't often someone asked about a cozy and out of the way place. He was going to have to do some research.

Dinner was cooking in the microwave and he was huddled over his laptop at the small table that represented his dining room when he heard a knock at the door. He got up and padded across the apartment. Brilliant blue eyes and a shy smile greeted him when he opened it.

"Hi,"

"Hi." He smiled back and stepped out of the way to let Liam in.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, just dinner and surfing the internet."

"Mind if I use the game box?"

"Help yourself." He waved Liam across the room and pushed the door closed as the microwave chimed. "You're just in time to eat. Want anything?"

"No thanks," Liam gave his standard reply.

Liam was his neighbor across the hall and the focus of a determined crush. Shy, slight, and beautiful, he'd been the source of idle fantasies since he'd moved into the building. Despite needing a little meat on his scrawny frame, Liam always turned down offers of anything other than diet pop. He assumed he ate on a regular basis. He'd just never seen him do it.

He settled back in his chair but it was difficult to concentrate when he couldn't keep his eyes off Liam. He belonged to someone else and he'd given up on the idea that there would ever be anything between them, but that didn't mean he didn't wish there were. Every time Liam showed up at his door, his heart did an eager little dance.

Tuesdays and Sundays were Liam's days off from the greasy spoon where he served the kind of food guaranteed to clog arteries. He spent most of those two days working with his boyfriend, Cord, though he had yet to figure out exactly what they did. Liam wasn't big on details. All he knew was Cord had a job in the film industry, which wasn't saying much in a city that seemed to give birth to a new studio every other year. Half of Vancouver had the same job description. He could only assume he was a freelance editor of some kind. A producer wouldn't live in a broken down apartment building, and few other jobs allowed people to work at home.

When he was finished doing whatever he did with Cord, Liam would show up at his door to play video games. Those two nights were the highlight of his week. It was a sad commentary on his emaciated love life.

Liam turned on the television and flopped onto the cushions with the game controls in hand, thumbs twitching across the buttons. The microwave chimed and he got up from the table to retrieve his dinner. He continued to research while he ate, not wanting to sit in front of Liam scarfing down food if he wasn't having any.

He wanted a causal but exotic place for his second date with Rich and found it in a little Moroccan restaurant on Barclay Street. The reviews said the food was good, though the service could be slow. He didn't mind slow. It left more time for conversation.

He texted Rich with the name and address of the place. Then he turned his attention to the kid on the sofa. Liam sat staring at the television, concentration wrinkling parts of his face. He dumped his plate in the sink and settled beside him on the couch.

"Want to play?" Liam asked without taking his eyes off the television.

"No, you go ahead and finish the game."

He sat a foot away making a conscious effort not to crowd him and watched the screen as Liam's character stalked its way to the next level of the terrorist-hunting game, weapon in hand. The volume spiked when things exploded over a layer of gunfire and shouting. Then it was over.

"I'm never going to get past this level," Liam sighed.

"To bad they don't have video boot camp."

A smile swept away the annoyed expression. "I think this is it. You learn by dying a few hundred times."

"Then it's a good thing real boot camp isn't like that."

"It would definitely make it harder to build a military. What do you want to play?"

"How about street racing? I'm getting close to kicking your ass."

"No you're not." Liam got up and switched the CD before settling back on the couch.

They played. They laughed and they taunted each other until he crashed into a building and his car disintegrated in a cloud of debris. It was easy and comfortable just like it had always been. That's what kept the crush alive. They didn't have to struggle through awkward conversation or even more awkward silence. It didn't take much imagination to see their little video game friendship flowing into something deeper, but it wouldn't as long as Liam belonged to Cord. It wasn't a happy thought.

He did what he always did when part of him whined that Liam should be his. He pushed the cloud of affection and attraction aside and started a new game. If things with Rich actually went somewhere maybe his crush would dwindle. He could hope. At the same time, he hoped it wouldn't.

Chapter 6

Justin stood at the concierge desk in the lobby and stopped the buzzing of the phone on the second ring.

"Concierge, how may I assist you?"

It was an almost average Friday afternoon with business guests leaving and weekend guests coming in. He also had an employee out sick, so he was filling in at the desk.

"I want to speak to a manager," a man snapped on the other end.

"I'm a manager. How can I help you, sir?"

"You're a manager?" He heard the skepticism.

"Yes, I am. You happened to catch me near the concierge phone." He lied. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there's a problem. The housekeeping staff here is atrocious. The shower is a mess. There's hair all over the place. You can't honestly expect me to shower in this bathroom. I mean, I was under the impression this was the Rosenthal not the Whorehouse Inn."

"I apologize, Sir. I'll send someone up to clean it right away."

"If that was all that was wrong I wouldn't have bothered calling. I'm not usually one to complain, but brunch this morning was just as bad as the bathroom. A rude little room service girl served me runny eggs and burned toast. I'm not at all impressed with this place. You're supposed to be five-star and you don't know how to cook eggs?"

He made note of the room and started tapping keys on the computer while the guest on the eighth floor continued to complain. They were an early check in to a small room and the stay was short. A search of the name online brought up nothing. He ran into guests like this often enough that the overblown attitude didn't fluster him. This guy wanted special treatment and would continue to complain until he got it or ran out of time. It was just a game and a poorly played one at that.

"I am sorry you haven't been happy with your stay so far. I removed the cost of the breakfast from your bill. Would you like me to have a new order sent up? It would be gratis, of course."

"What?"

"Complimentary, sir."

"If it's made by the same chef then I'm sure there's no point."

"In that case I'll send housekeeping up to clean your bathroom. Is twenty minutes convenient?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Good. Is there anything else I can assist you with this morning?"

"Not at the moment."

"Fine. Housekeeping will be up shortly."

He hung up the phone with a smile and waved one of his staff over.

"What's up?" Russ asked.

"Will you cover the desk? I need to run upstairs and take care of a guest that's fishing for an upgrade."

"Are we going to move them?"

"No, I think I'll make him work for it a little first. He needs to do better than hair in the bathroom and runny eggs."

"How much do you want to bet he's up there right now pulling hair out of his head to back up the story?" Russ said.

He grinned and picked up the phone to dial housekeeping.

"Hi, Liz. We have a WB on eight and I need one of your best people. Who's available in the next fifteen minutes?" He asked, using the 'whiney bastard' code he and Liz had created for problem guests.

"Carlos or Trish could handle it."

"Great. Will you send one of them up with a full kit? The bathroom needs the penthouse treatment. You might want to make a note that 815 is going to be a pain in the ass for a few days so have your crew go all out when it's cleaned. We're going to be nitpicked to death."

"I'll take care of it."

It was a small thing to upgrade someone to a better room especially when the hotel had the space, but they weren't in the habit of giving things away. If this guest wanted a better room without paying for it, he would have to work for it. The room would be spotless. The food would be perfect, and they would reduce him to complaining about the color of the drapes and the quality of the mattress.

He left Russ at the desk and headed upstairs. The guest and his male companion where dressed in hotel robes looking stern and displeased when he arrived. Carlos was already at work with Liz pretending to supervise for the guest's benefit. Carlos was a back-up housekeeper for the penthouses. He didn't need supervision.

She didn't comment about the used towels in the corner making it obvious the guests had been in the shower at least once already. Justin didn't comment when he collected the room service tray either, empty plates revealing that they had managed to choke down the burnt and watery breakfast. He just pasted on a look of sincere apology and stepped back into the hall to return the tray to the kitchen.

Complaints from the twenty-seventh floor about the scent of the complimentary soap followed the fabricated issues on the eighth but this time he didn't have to search the internet or look up the guest profile. It was an executive suite and the guest was there for a week attending investors meetings at one of the studios. His wife had already been down to the spa and made special dietary requests in the kitchen. She was high maintenance, but reasonably so considering the amount of money she was spending, which meant he had to do better than an apology.

He called one of the local boutiques and requested a collection of soap fit for a woman with expensive taste and a discerning nose. He sent one of the luggage attendants down to pick it up and she returned a few minutes later with a gift-wrapped basket of nearly a dozen different soaps. He added a small card with the hotel logo on it and a note of apology and sent Kelly upstairs to deliver it.

Despite the buzz of activity, his mind wandered numerous times to his date that night. He hoped Rich's desire to take things slow didn't really mean they would go weeks with nothing more than a kiss. He was willing to wait if he had to, but he wanted more than civilized conversation across the table. He wanted to know how it felt in Rich's arms, the touch of his lips, the press of his body.

He shook the fantasy loose and checked his watch. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter 7

Justin sat at a small booth near the back of the quaint little restaurant. It was a tapestry of dark woods, deep oranges, and rich yellows, with no more than a dozen tables - most of them full already. Music he assumed was Moroccan flowed out of the sound system, mingling with the conversation. He sipped cool mint tea and divided his attention between the décor and the front door across the room.

Rich appeared a few minutes after seven wearing a dark suit and a gray overcoat. The dimpled smile that warmed Rich's face when their eyes met propelled him up from his seat as Rich wound his way through the tables. For a moment, he wrestled with the fantasy of wrapping arms around him and kissing him.

"Sorry I'm late." Rich shrugged out of his overcoat.

"Only by a minute or two. That doesn't really count." He sat back down.

Rich slid into the other side of the booth, deep brown eyes roaming his face. "How are you?"

"Never better. You?"

"Very glad to see you again."

"Me, too."

"Did you order yet?" Rich cast a glance to the menu waiting on the table.

"Just the tea."

"Any recommendations?" Rich's eyes bounced back to him inspiring a sudden urge to reach across the table and run fingers through his short hair.

"I've never done Moroccan before so your guess is as good as mine." He kept his hands in his lap.

Rich smiled again. "I love a man with a sense of adventure."

The server poured a glass of tea for Rich from a small ornate pitcher and he took an experimental sip.

"This is really good."

"Are you ready to order?" The server asked.

"I think so. Any recommendations? We're new to Moroccan food," he admitted as Rich took another sip.

"Oh yes, many." The server's eyes lit up. "I'll bring you Harira and Khoubizza. You'll love it." He nodded decisively.

"That sounds great," he replied though he had no idea what either of those was.

The server took their menus and wandered away, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," Rich admitted. "I hope that's not wrong of me to say."

"Why would it be?"

"Because it's only our second date and I left you without even a kiss last time. I don't want to come across as a tease."

He smiled. "You don't."

"Good." Rich took another drink of tea. "How are things at the Rosenthal?"

"Going very well. How is the insurance business?"

"A hurricane of paperwork."

"I can imagine."

"I know this is the part where we're supposed to swap small talk, but I'd much rather talk about you than work. I know." He held up a hand, "I brought it up in the first place and I'm sorry. Force of habit."

"We can talk about anything you want."

Rich looked at him for a long moment. "You have beautiful eyes."

"So do you."

"And a mouth I think I could spend days in." Rich shook his head and took another drink of tea. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Sorry."

"I'm fine with you getting ahead of yourself."

The server returned, interrupting the moment that was still gathering heat, and placed a bowl of thick soup crowded with things he couldn't name in front of each of them along with a handful of pita triangles. A plate of more pita and a mound of something that looked like spinach dip followed.

"Which one is which?" Rich asked.

"This is Harira," the server pointed to the soup, "and this Khoubizza."

They each picked up a spoon and took a tentative bite of the soup nodding approval before the server wandered away again leaving them to eat. The food provided a distraction from the building attraction and gave them something else to discuss. They ate and talked about other food and other restaurants, which flowed into a discussion about other places they'd been.

Plates of more exotic food replaced the soup and appetizer. They swapped bites, smiling over shared utensils, heat bubbling between them all over again. If they'd been sitting on the same side of the booth dinner would have been about much more than the food and the server would have been a lot less pleased.

They finished their meal and stepped back into the brisk darkness of a night he wasn't ready to end.

"Where did you park?" Rich asked.

"Took a cab."

"What would you say to going for a drive?"

"I'd love it."

They walked to Rich's car, a small, dark sporty thing, and Rich opened the passenger door to let him slide into the leather seat. It was cozy, comfortable, and nearly silent as they pulled away from the curb into evening traffic. Rich drove over to Stanley Park and around the winding drive to one of the many lookouts. They parked with the lights of North Vancouver shining across the inlet and a mound of yellow sulfur glowing in the dark.

Rich turned off the engine and shifted in his seat to look at him. "Do you want to sit and talk, or would you rather get out and walk?"

"Talking is fine, but I'm open to a moonlight stroll if you'd like."

"It's a little chilly."

"A little." He nodded.

"So tell me about you, Justin. What do you want out of life?"

"The same thing everyone else does, I suppose."

"Which is?"

"A good job, a decent place to live...someone to love."

"And do you have that?"

"The job part, yes. I'm still working on the place to live, though the current spot could be worse. I'll admit, I'm not having a lot of luck with the last one."

"Do you have career plans?"

"Full manager at some point. What about you?"

"I think I have the living space covered. I'd like to work my way up to executive paper pusher one day. As for love, that's never been an easy thing for me."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure the second date is the right time for that conversation?"

"The ex?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I think it's better to leave that for later."

"If you want."

Rich reached over and took his hand. "Sitting in a car isn't much cozier than across the table, but I'm trying not to give you mixed signals here."

"I appreciate that."

"I know it's ridiculous to put off physical contact, but it's too easy for me to get tangled up in something before I have a chance to figure out what it is."

"Not so ridiculous." He sat with his heart pounding, trying to sound casual despite the desire that flared at the touch of Rich's hand, fingers ghosting along his skin, caressing, petting.

"Sex is pretty much expected on the second date, isn't it?"

"I suppose that's considered proper dating etiquette." He smiled. "If you're interested in that sort of thing."

"You're not?"

"I'm more interested in you. You're an intriguing man, Rich. I think I'd rather have the mystery than the sex."

"Up to a point." Rich smiled back.

"Yes. If we're still playing this game in a couple of weeks it would get old."

He watched in fascination as Rich lifted his hand to his lips and kissed his knuckle in the dim light. "It would." Rich nodded, eyes on his face. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"I wouldn't protest if you did."

Rich let go of him to rest a hand on the console wedged between their seats and leaned closer. Justin met him half way as gentle fingers slid along his skin. A palm rested against his face followed by the tender contact of lips. The tentative touch blossomed to a deep caress and bubbles of attraction burst into boiling desire. He tangled fingers in Rich's jacket pulling him closer as hands held his face. The intensity left them gasping for air in the silence.

"Wow." Rich panted.

"You can say that again."

Rich sat with a hand still on his face, head rested against the back of the seat watching him. He turned his face to kiss Rich's palm before resting a hand over the top of it.

"It's a good thing we didn't decide to go back to my place for coffee," Rich said.

"It's also a good thing your car's not bigger." He smiled.

"My first time with you isn't going to be in a car. Call me old fashioned, but I'm not interested in a quick fuck wherever we can find the space."

"To tell the truth, neither am I."

"I want to know you, Justin, inside and out. I want to laugh with you, talk with you, just be with you. I know it's not the norm but I've tried the alternative. It doesn't work very well."

"I'm ok with something out of the ordinary. When do we start?"

Rich twitched a smile. "There are things I need to tell you first. Then if you're still interested we can get to that part."

"What kind of things?"

"Things better left for our next date...assuming you're interested."

"After that kiss I'm pretty sure I am."

"When can I see you again?"

"My schedule's wide open."

"How about Thursday night?"

"I can do Thursday."

"Good. We can have dinner at my place."

"I'd like that."

Rich smiled. "In the meantime, I guess we'd better call it a night." The hand slid from his face and Rich turned in his seat. "Where can I take you?"

"The metro station is fine."

"Are you sure? I can drive you home."

"You don't need to trek all the way out to Burnaby. I can catch the train."

"Ok." Rich started the engine and they pulled out of the empty row of parking spaces and headed back into the city.

His blind date was nothing if not a man of mystery. He could appreciate suspense but he didn't anticipate leaving Rich's townhouse on Thursday without at the very least necking on the couch. Taking it slow was one thing. This was approaching torment.

Chapter 8

It was dark by the time Liam got home from work, and the apartment was empty. He set a grease-stained paper bag on the counter, his stomach grumbling at the faded smell of a sloppy bacon cheeseburger and seasoned curly fries. Nothing in that bag was on Cord's list of acceptable foods, but Leslie was trying to cheer him up. She didn't know about Cord's diet. Other than his name, she didn't really know anything at all about Cord and he intended to keep it that way.

He stripped off his shirt as he trudged to the bathroom to wash off the smell of burgers and grease. His job wasn't glamorous and even as the only server in the place, tips were lousy but the owners were better to him than anyone else had ever been.

Leslie and Walt had hired him three years ago despite his disheveled clothes and lack of a permanent address. He'd been on the street for months by then and had wandered into their restaurant cold and starving to ask for anything they were throwing away. Walt had offered him a hot meal in exchange for washing a few dishes. He'd jumped at the idea and they'd hired him a few burgers later.

It hadn't mattered that he had filthy clothes and had been barely fifteen. As long as he could wash dishes, they'd pay him, and not just a few bucks under the table. He made the same thing every other dishwasher made. It wasn't enough to live on but he didn't care. Not being treated like a piece of garbage had been worth more than money. It still was. They cared about him and he couldn't say that about many people. There were days when he didn't think he could even say that about Cord.

He stepped into the shower and under the spray of hot water, his stomach grumbling its request for the food he wasn't sure he was going to eat. He was pensive lately though he tried not to be, and that was her way of cheering him up. It was a nice gesture, but if he made a habit of eating greasy food Cord would throw a fit the next time he stepped on the scale.

He couldn't tell Leslie the truth about what was going on. Just the thought of that conversation horrified him. He preferred to let her think he'd had a lovers' quarrel with Cord and they would patch things up eventually. The truth was they never quarreled. That would require him putting his foot down about something, and he never did. He was tempted now and then but always lost his nerve before it happened. Cord's house had rules. It had since the first day and one of those rules was that he had to pull his weight. The paltry amount he brought home from the diner didn't qualify. Hearing that would just make her and Walt feel guilty, and he didn't want that either. He preferred to hide the whole mess behind a smile that wasn't always as convincing as he wanted it to be.

He rubbed shampoo into his hair and scrubbed at his head trying to ignore the crowd of thoughts pulsing against the other side of his skull. For a while, he'd assumed doing porn for Cord would stop when he turned eighteen, the magic number that said he was old enough to be out on his own and make a real life for himself. It hadn't taken long for that idea to end up in the trash bin. He didn't make enough to have a place of his own and there was no telling what type of psychotic bastard he'd end up with for a roommate. The last time he'd agreed to move in with a stranger he'd ended up with Cord. At least Cord cared about him sometimes. A roommate wouldn't give a shit.

He shoved the thought away and dove under the water to rinse off the suds and the doubt. Of course, Cord loved him. He was his boyfriend. Just because things weren't always perfect between them didn't mean it was time to walk away. Besides, where would he go? How would he pay a security deposit when every dime he made went to paying bills and buying food? Yesterday had just been a bad day and he was making more out of it than it was. It was a worn pep talk but it was all he had.

Yesterday's shoot had been a near disaster, the memory inspiring a flash of annoyance that twitched across his skin. For years, the men who appeared in their apartment to bang him had had the same cookie cutter physique and stereotypical tan. As far as he was concerned, they were interchangeable, which made them easier to forget.

Cord had told him long ago that most of the people frequenting the website were women, and women only wanted to see hot guys having sex, not fat balding ones. Nothing about it made sense to him, but it didn't have to. He just did as he was told. He didn't care that the cookie cutter guys were hot. He didn't want any of them touching him regardless of how they looked so he'd always assumed hot or ugly, trim or fat, it would be the same nightmare. Yesterday had proven him wrong.

The guy that had appeared through the front door had been somewhere in his 40s with the start of a beer gut and a body full of graying hair. He'd smelled of old cigarettes and had confessed he'd never done gay porn in his life.

While Liam had never been particularly attracted to any of the cookie cutter types, he'd been repulsed by that guy. It hadn't mattered that he started every shoot with a dose of the wonder drug guaranteed to put his cock in gear. Being banged by a man old enough to be his father had drained all the interest right out of it. Lucky for them he wasn't the one who had to get it up. He was just the one who'd had to pretend he enjoyed every moment of the ten hours it had taken them to finish the shoot.

He'd tried escaping to the beach in his mind, but it hadn't worked. Cord had called "cut" so many times he'd barely get settled on the sand only to be yanked right back to reality because the guy couldn't figure out how to have sex with someone he couldn't drag around by the hair or grab by the breasts. It had been a long time since he'd felt that used and worthless to the man who claimed to love him.

Cord had tuned him out, ignoring every complaint. He considered it a personal victory that he hadn't shed a tear until after Cord had fallen asleep that night. He'd carried a pillow out to a corner of the living room and sobbed where no one could hear him.

He'd felt numb and cold all day, and there was only so much he could hide from Leslie. He wanted to tell her, to confess Cord hadn't really saved him. He'd turned him into a whore and made his life a new kind of nightmare, but he couldn't say the words, and he didn't want to see the look on her face when he did.

Maybe this was the end of it. Maybe Cord wouldn't make him do the shoots anymore. After all, there was nothing sexy about a kid who wasn't into it. If his cock refused to cooperate even with the drugs, then what good was he? He pushed the darker possibility out of his head as he soaped and rinsed his skin. Cord wasn't into rape fantasy. He wouldn't make him do that. He loved him and when it came to love sometimes you had to do things you didn't want to do, but Cord would never let someone hurt him.

He shoved the thought further away as he smeared cream on his skin that kept his body as hairless as a child's. He waited a few minutes, puttering around in the shower before he rinsed it back off and climbed out. Then he grabbed a towel, dried off and padded into the bedroom to get dressed.

He was just tugging a t-shirt over his head when he heard a knock at the door. He stepped into a pair of sweats and strode across the living room, ignoring the set and eyeing the bag of forbidden food on the kitchen counter, annoyance fueling his desire to break the rules. He tugged the door open and a mass of flowers greeted him.

"Is that you, Liam?" a disembodied voice told him. "I can't see around this thing."

"It's me."

His next-door neighbor appeared from behind the bundle. She was a worn 30-year-old single mother of two who looked like she was at least a decade older. Life did that to you sometimes.

"Hi, Mrs. Whittier." He offered a smile, blocking the door so she wouldn't see the bed in the living room.

"These came for you a couple of hours ago." She handed him the vase.

"For me?"

"That's what the man said. You must have a secret admirer."

There was no way that was true, but he offered another smile and thanked her. Then he closed the door with his foot and set the vase on the counter next to the forbidden burger. He plucked a small rectangular envelope from the prongs of a plastic holder and read a card much more modest than the flowers. All it said was "Love, Cord". He smiled as tears gathered in his eyes.

It had been a long, depressing few months since his eighteenth birthday had forced him to face reality. He was trapped, condemned to have sex on command until Cord decided to set him free. Somewhere in the annoyance and depression, he'd started to wonder whether Cord loved him anymore. Yesterday had only added to his doubts. What if their relationship was just about porn and nothing else?

He wiped tears from his face and stuck his nose in a bundle of flowers that said otherwise. He was moping and crying over nothing, and when Cord came through the door a moment later he threw his arms around his neck.

"What's with you?" Cord held him in a loose grip.

"Thank you."

"Oh, the flowers." Cord squeezed him a little tighter. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love them." He brought his head up from Cord's shoulder and grinned at him.

Cord's smile slipped a little when he saw the tears. "Are you ok?" He thumbed one of them away.

"Yeah." He nodded still grinning.

"Good." Cord leaned close and kissed his forehead. "I have another surprise for you if you're in the mood."

"What is it?"

"Just a little something for my sexy boy."

Cord had been calling him that since their first night together.

"A little something like?"

"Come on. I'll show you." Cord took his hand and led him through the living room to the bedroom before pulling him close.

The kiss was tender and sweet because Cord was always tender and sweet when they had sex. He'd never been abusive just insistent. A hand slid down his back to his ass and squeezed him through his sweats, pressing him close and holding him there. When Cord released him, it was to burrow fingers into the sweats and slide them down his body, exposing his ass so he could grip him without the cotton in the way. He squirmed against him to free the elastic clinging to his stomach and his sweats slid to the floor.

Cord left his mouth to trail kisses along his jaw.

"On the bed," Cord mumbled to his neck.

He didn't argue. He never did, at least not much. His parents had taught him that love was a fragile thing. As much as he wanted the porn to end, he didn't want to be back on the street because he became too big an annoyance. Porn was bad. Freezing his ass off and dodging a never-ending flow of predators and bullies was worse.

Cord pushed the bedroom door closed blocking his view of the set because he knew better than to fuck him with that in view. It killed his enthusiasm. Cord padded across the room to their small drawer of toys, and pulled out a pair of silk scarves. He crawled on the bed with them and pressed a kiss to the spot where a tangle of hair used to grow. A kiss at a time Cord worked his way up from there, sliding the t-shirt up his body and kissing bits of skin that came into view. Then he tugged it off over Liam's head and tossed it on the floor with a playful smile. He smiled back and closed his eyes when Cord dragged the silk that would eventually bind him to the headboard across his skin.

Cord wasn't into BDSM. He didn't do whips or riding crops or leather costumes. He just liked to tie him up. Most of the time he tied him to the headboard. Sometimes he just tied his hands together. Cord liked him submissive and a bit helpless. It was one of the few roles he didn't mind playing.

Cord left plenty of slack in the scarves and then stripped off his own clothes and padded back to the open drawer. When he returned it was with a bottle of lube and a toy he'd never seen before. It was short with an odd curve at the end.

"Is that the surprise?"

"It is." Cord climbed back on the bed and knelt between his legs.

"Am I going to like it?"

"If it works the way it's supposed to, you're going to love it." Cord bent close and kissed his hipbone while pouring lube into one hand. "You're going to love it so much you'll beg me not to stop." He kissed his stomach as he rubbed lube into tender skin caressing and stretching him.

Desire and anticipation crashed around inside and his heart pounded along with it. Cord kept kissing and licking his way across his body, and the next sensation he felt was colder and bigger as something other than Cord's finger slid into him and settled in place. A tiny jolt ran through him as it pressed against the miraculous little spot inside that could inspire him to scream Cord's name.

"How does that feel?" Cord's head came up.

"It's ok."

"How about now?" Cord fiddled with something he couldn't see, and the toy began to vibrate.

"Better." He nodded as it hummed against him, sending a warm glow through his body.

Cord fiddled some more and the humming grew stronger, turning the warm glow hot. He panted to the ceiling as his cock floated the same direction.

"That's my sexy boy." Cord smiled at his cock. "Do you like that?"

"Uh huh." He nodded and squirmed where he lay with his heart slamming against his ribs while Cord caressed his leg and kissed his inner thigh. "That's so good."

"I knew you would."

Heat grew to a wave of pleasure that flowed through him, lighting him up. He groaned as Cord kissed him and caressed him everywhere but his cock, and before long, he was begging Cord not to turn it off. He writhed and groaned while Cord held him in place until the pleasure was leaking out of him, leaving drops on his stomach. A moment later, he came in an almost painful blast, howling it to the room.

He melted into the bed while the thing in his ass kept vibrating. Cord kissed sweat from his skin and smiled down at him.

"I think I've found my new favorite toy."

"Me, too," he gasped.

Cord crawled between his legs and he braced himself for the sensation of the toy sliding free. Instead, the vibration got stronger, and so did the pleasure.

"Oh god, Cord," he gasped to the ceiling. "Oh my god."

"On your stomach." Cord helped him roll over leaving his arms crossed over his head.

He squirmed at the sensation of the comforter against his cock and started thrusting into the bed.

"None of that." Cord held him in place with a hand at each hip. "Just lie there like a good boy and let the toy do the work."

"I can't," he gasped.

Words became incoherent whines as the vibration drove him right back over the edge and he screamed his release into the bed. He lay gasping and the toy kept vibrating. He couldn't see it but he felt the increase in sensation when Cord turned it up another notch.

"Please," he gasped, "turn it off. Please."

Cord did as he asked and a quivering tremble flowed through him where the vibration had been. He felt the toy slide out before Cord draped over his back kissing his shoulders and picking up where the vibration had left off.

"I like you like this," Cord told him. "All warm and sweaty. God, you feel good. That thing is going to be perfect." He moved in him with slow strokes.

"Perfect for what?" He asked almost on a reflex, wrung out and sated, content to let Cord ride him.

"Fixing our little problem."

"What little problem?"

"Your reluctant libido."

That snapped him out of his pleasant daze.

"What?"

"We can stop tape for a few seconds, plug that little wonder in and the problem's solved. On your knees. I want to go deeper." Cord crawled off and he slid his knees under him, head to the mattress, and scowled at the wall on the far side of the room.

"Oh yeah. That's my sexy boy. Just like that." Cord groaned over him.

He had nothing to say. What he'd thought was a prolonged attempt to lure him out of his mood was just a test run for a new toy that would guarantee his cock was ready for the scene whether the rest of him was or not. A wave of betrayal washed over him and tears gathered in his eyes one more time. He let them fall to the comforter as Cord rode him.

Chapter 9

Justin strode down the hall toward his apartment, wearing the same smile he'd had the entire trip home. After that kiss, he doubted anything Rich said about his ex-boyfriend was going to make a difference. He wanted that man in his arms, in his hands, and unless the confession involved Rich and a criminal record, he saw no reason to continue putting it off.

He was convinced they could have something good together if they could get past the platonic stage. They could ease into it with nights of kissing and touching if past trauma made it necessary, but he was getting impatient with the teasing. He wanted to know how Rich felt, how he tasted, how he moved. He wanted that hot, intense first night together where they traded anticipation for carnal knowledge.

He fumbled the keys out of his pocket grinding his teeth as they grazed the persistent fatty bulging in his boxers. He unlocked the door in time to see the one on the other side of the hall open and smiled as Liam stepped out, but the look on Liam's face wiped it away. Somber and disturbed, Liam padded barefoot into the hall carrying a bag of garbage.

"Everything ok?"

Liam glanced up from the floor looking moderately startled. "Yeah." The answer wasn't convincing.

He looked like that a lot lately. What had once been a relatively happy if not quiet kid was now haunted and almost withdrawn at times.

"Do you want to come in and play on the game box for a while?" He asked, offering a little respite from whatever was bothering him.

"It's late. I don't want to keep you up."

"I don't mind. I'm a little wound up anyway."

"Ok. If you want. Let me dump this first," Liam said with no more enthusiasm than he'd had before.

He stepped into the apartment and left the door unlocked, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tugging his tie loose. He heard a timid knock several moments later as he stepped out of his shoes and slid the tie from around his neck.

"Come in."

Liam shuffled into the room and pushed the door closed.

"I'm going to change clothes. Go ahead and start it up."

"What do you want to play?"

"Whatever you're in the mood for."

He ducked into the bedroom to change and by the time he'd dressed again Liam was settled on the couch. They sat and played for several moments while he tossed almost inconspicuous glances at him before deciding to attempt a conversation he wasn't sure would get very far. Liam could be chatty when it suited him but he wasn't exactly the type to sit on Oprah's couch and pour his heart out.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked the television.

"What?"

"Whatever's bothering you."

There was a moment of silence before Liam answered. "I can't."

"Anything you say stays in this room. I promise. I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Liam shook his head. The movement caught his eye and he looked over to find a tear sliding down his face.

"It might make you feel better to talk about it."

Liam gave a little huff of what might have been humor. "Trust me. It won't."

"Are you sure?" He reached out to rest a hand on the back of his neck not sure Liam would let him pull him close.

If anyone had ever needed a hug it was that kid, but the moment he touched warm skin Liam dropped the controls and popped off the couch, backing away with an expression that was more fearful than bothered.

"I'm sorry." He blinked at Liam. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's, uh, it's ok." A deep scowl burrowed into the space between his eyebrows as disturbed eclipsed fear. "I should probably go. It's late."

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to." He got up from the couch letting the game run without them.

Liam folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the floor instead.

He took a step or two closer. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to, but you look like you need someone to hold you for a while."

Liam shrugged as more tears trickled down his face. He rested a hand on Liam's arm and felt him trembling, a fine tremor he couldn't see. A little at a time he pulled Liam closer and wrapped him in his arms. The sobbing started the moment Liam's head touched his chest.

"It's ok." He slid fingers into his hair, holding him close. "Whatever it is we can find a way to fix it, right?"

"No."

"Tell me what happened."

"I can't." Liam's head came up.

"Why?"

"Trust me, you won't want to know."

"Maybe I can help."

"Nobody can help. I just have to deal with it, that's all." Liam slid from his arms and wiped at his face, sucking in a big stuttering breath as he got control of himself.

"I solve problems for a living, Liam. I might be able to do something."

Watery blue eyes held his gaze for a moment. "Not everything can be fixed, and even when it can, sometimes the solution is just a bigger pile of shit in disguise."

He didn't know what that meant but Liam's determined expression told him he wasn't going to get an explanation.

"Fair enough." He nodded agreeing to drop the subject. "You're welcome to the couch if you need a place to crash tonight. No strings."

Liam glanced at the couch and then back at him, watching him with a calculating expression.

"No. Cord will wonder where I went."

"Suit yourself but if you need a break from him for a while the offer stands."

Liam twitched a hint of a smile. "Thanks."

"Why don't we finish the game? I can heat up some pizza pockets or something."

"No, I should go. I've kept you up late enough already."

"It's no trouble."

Liam stepped to the door and turned the knob, pausing to look back at him. "Thanks for the offer. It means a lot." Liam tugged the door open and disappeared.

He padded across the floor and locked it behind him with no idea what any of that was about. Obviously, it had something to do with Cord. Otherwise, Liam would have been crying in his arms, instead but it sounded a lot more serious than just a spat between lovers. Still, if Liam didn't want to talk about it there wasn't a lot he could do. He turned off the game and the television and headed for bed wondering about the mystery men gathering in his life.

Chapter 10

A week later Justin stepped outside into a warm spring evening. The brief blat of a car horn got his attention and he turned to see Rich rolling toward him. He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk as Rich pulled up to the curb outside the employee entrance to the hotel. He tugged open the door and slid into the passenger seat an instant before Rich started moving again, horns honking behind him at the minimal interruption in the flow of traffic.

It was their third date and he was officially sick of the anticipation. He wanted to hear the tale about the mystery ex. Then he wanted to throw celibacy out the window and spend the rest of the night fucking each other to exhaustion, unless Rich could give him a good reason not to.

Desire pounded through him making it difficult to keep his hands to himself as they rolled away from downtown. If it hadn't been for the console between them, he would have made the trip with a hand rested on Rich's thigh, creeping up his leg of its own volition. The need to touch him was like a persistent itch he couldn't quite reach, but he kept his hands to himself as they drove through the tightly packed residential section of the West End.

Rich turned onto a quiet, tree-lined street and parked at the curb in front of a small two-story building with dark brown trim. It was nothing like his weathered and worn apartment complex across town with the seldom-tended grass and peeling paint. This place was tidy and immaculate.

Rich climbed out of the car and he got out with him.

"This is it?"

"This is it."

"It looks nice."

"It's better on the inside."

Rich led him up the steps to the front door that was a pane of glass in a frame. He unlocked it and pushed inside to a long, narrow foyer that stretched up through the second story, bisecting the building. A bicycle rested against the back wall but other than that, it was empty. There were matching doors on opposite walls just inside the foyer and Rich stopped at the one on the left and unlocked it before holding it open to let him in.

A dark wood floor followed the contours of cream-colored walls, past an uncluttered office on one side and a set of stairs on the other. The rest of the duplex townhouse was an open space of adjoining rooms that flowed from one to the other. A single step led down to the living room with its vaulted ceiling, cream-colored carpet, and dark brown leather furniture. Across the room was a grand display of kitchen and dining area with a large picture window that looked at the neighboring building several feet away.

"What do you think?" Rich asked as he stood glancing around the space.

"I like it. It's nice and open."

"It doesn't have much of a view," Rich nodded at the picture window, "but then a view would double the cost."

"That's ok. If you walk down the street a couple of blocks you can look at the view for free."

"My thoughts exactly." Rich smiled. "I'm going to start dinner. Make yourself at home." He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tugged off his tie. "Here, let me have your jacket."

Justin slid out of his own jacket and tie and handed them to Rich, who disappeared down the hall into the office before reappearing to pad in stocking feet toward the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

"I was thinking spaghetti for tonight. I hope that's alright."

"That sounds great."

"Are you vegetarian or anything? I was going to put ground beef in it, but I can leave that out."

"I can handle beef."

"Good. How about some wine? Maybe we can talk while I cook."

"Fine with me." He settled on a stool at the counter.

"Is Chardonnay ok?"

"Sure."

Rich smiled. "I like 'yes' men."

He smiled back. "Can I help with anything?"

"No, you get to sit there and keep me company." Rich pulled a bottle from a small wine rack on the counter, dug a corkscrew out of a drawer and coaxed the cork free.

Rich poured two glasses and handed him one.

"To new beginnings," Rich toasted.

He tapped their glasses together before taking a sip, watching as Rich dug into the refrigerator gathering ingredients. The contours of his body pressed against his shirt for a moment and he fought the urge to join Rich in the kitchen, if only to wrap arms around him and press close to that toned back.

"If I remember correctly on our first date you mentioned being a Whitecaps fan." Rich carried a handful of vegetables to the sink.

"Sort of."

Rich glanced at him. "You sort of are, or you sort of mentioned it?"

"Sort of am. If you live in Vancouver, you follow either the Canucks or the 'Caps, right? I chose the 'Caps but to be honest I only average about one game a year."

"Not a Canucks fan or not a hockey fan?" Rich asked as he rinsed a carrot.

"I'm not into hockey. I know that means I'm not a patriotic Canadian, but it's the truth. There, I said it." He took a sip of wine as he fixated on Rich's hands rinsing a bell pepper.

Rich smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." He turned off the water and carried carrots and peppers to the cutting board. "I like hockey but I prefer the Giants to the Canucks, though I make it a point never to admit that in public."

"Smart man."

"Aside from being a less than avid soccer fan and having no interest in hockey are you into anything else? Do you participate in a sport or just watch?" Rich asked the vegetables as he sliced and diced them.

He didn't want to talk about sports. He wanted to talk about Rich's mystery ex and then he wanted to stop talking for a while, but it was obvious Rich wasn't ready to dive into the topic, so he played along.

"I just watch once in a while. What about you?"

"I play a bit of golf. I can hold up my end of a game of tennis. I've skied once or twice but never really got the hang of it." Rich paused in his chopping to take a drink of wine. "I also think I'm stalling." He glanced at him.

"Maybe a little."

Deep brown eyes held his gaze for a moment. "I owe you an explanation."

"If you want to give it."

He was curious but he wouldn't call it anxious to hear the tale of the mystery lover. It could come out during foreplay between kisses or while they were drifting in the afterglow. He didn't care. He was more anxious to get past it.

Rich took another drink and then went back to chopping, cutting the ends off a sweet onion. "His name is James," he said, peeling it. "We were together during this last stretch for almost five years, but the truth is he's been in and out of my life for fifteen." Rich told the onion as he chopped it. "We've known each other since high school. He's always been a little larger than life, charming and dynamic. You know what I mean?"

He nodded along letting Rich tell the story uninterrupted, watching a scowl settle in place as he did.

"He always knew how to get to me. I wish I could say it made me feel better that he had that effect on a lot of people." Rich cast him a glance, twitched a smile, took another drink and went back to chopping. "I wasn't in the mood to be consoled back then. It just made me feel like I wasn't enough.

"He was the first lover I ever had but it wasn't really the way that makes it sound. He was my first time and second and third, but there were gaps in between. You get the picture?"

He nodded back at him as Rich moved on to chopping carrots and peppers.

"He wanted sex. I wanted love, so I took what I could get when he was in the mood to cooperate, and pretended it was all the same thing. James wasn't interested in being gay. He had an image to maintain and it didn't include being the steady boyfriend to a scrawny, pimply kid, so our relationship...if you could call it that...was in the shadows. His exploits with cheerleaders weren't.

"He wanted to be a hot lover, the envy of every jock in school, and saw no reason to let his sexuality get in the way. He had a new girl every few weeks and when he got tired of them, he'd spend an hour or two with me. I don't know for sure that he fucked any of them. He said he didn't, but he was always good at telling me stories and I was good at believing them. For all I know he's bi-.

"Anyway, every time he crawled back to me I told myself it was love, and this time he was going to stay, but it never worked that way. He'd wander off to tune up his image with a new girl, and I'd be left alone."

"That sounds heartbreaking."

"It was, but I was good with denial back then. I was an expert at making excuses for him, lying on my bed listening to sad love songs, pining away for a guy who couldn't figure out what he wanted other than popularity. All the while telling myself it was true love just a complicated version, because he was in the closet."

"How about now? Do you think it really was platonic with the girls?"

"No. You know teenage girls and their obsession with gossip. If he'd been dumping them without doing anything more than necking, word would have gotten around that the school's biggest womanizer was a virgin. James wouldn't have risked that sort of bad publicity. I imagine he held them at bay for as long as he could get away with it. Then he fucked them, dumped them, and came crawling back to me to get a taste of what he really wanted before starting the cycle over again with a new girl. I'm willing to bet there were quite a few cheerleaders on the squad that got their first taste of anal thanks to him because there was no way he did it face to face. He had one position and that wasn't it. Not even with me."

"Does he still chase women?"

"I don't know about chasing them, but he flirts with them to get what he wants. He can be a manipulative bastard, but he's good at it, so you don't know you've been played for a fool until the game is over." Rich dumped vegetables in a pot and turned on the heat before taking a couple of healthy swallows from his glass.

"Anyway, graduation shook things up. I went to college and he wandered off somewhere to find himself. It was years before I saw him again but when I did, we went from a handshake to fucking in hours. It was unbelievably hot and for a while, it stayed that way. I thought my dreams had come true, that he'd finally gotten over his need to pretend." Rich stirred the vegetables as they began to sizzle. "It took me weeks to realize he was wild in bed because he was high. Even after I knew, I put up with it for a lot longer than I should have.

"That's been a bad habit of mine for a long time. In high school, I was the dirty little secret he refused to acknowledge in public. Later I was a convenient place to crash and someone to steal from because his habit made it hard to keep a job. When he stole my grandmother's silver tea set to pawn for drugs I decided I'd had enough. I kicked him out and told him to come back when he was sober and had his life together."

"That must have taken a lot."

"I cried myself to sleep for a week." He pulled a can of tomato sauce from a cupboard, set it spinning in the grip of an electric can opener, and poured the contents in a pot. "Then a friend grabbed me by the shirt and shook the self-pity out of me. He made me realize I was still acting like a love-starved teenager, letting James make an idiot out of me and pretending it was my fault...and he was right."

"What did you do?"

"I got my shit together and I haven't seen or spoken to James in about six months. I imagine he's off somewhere taking advantage of someone else. I hope he's gotten clean and gone to counseling to figure himself out, but I don't know and I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Why?"

"Because I don't need the temptation to start that up again. Several people would get in line to ring my neck."

"Would you take him back?"

"If I were with someone else, no. If I weren't...I honestly don't know. I'd be tempted and that probably wouldn't end well." Rich paused in his story to look at him and then lifted his glass. "Here's hoping he's gone for good." He drained the last of his wine and refilled it.

"I'll drink to that." He saluted him with his own.

"Need a refill?" Rich held up the bottle.

"Sure." He let him top it off.

"That's my big secret." Rich ducked into the refrigerator one more time and came out with a package of ground beef. "I know I made a big production of telling you but I don't think it's your average ex story. I wanted you to know what you're getting into before we get too far, assuming I didn't just scare you off." He sliced the plastic open and dumped the lump into the sauce with the vegetables before breaking it up with the spoon.

"I don't seem to be heading for the door." He snagged Rich's suddenly elusive gaze.

There was nothing in that story that made him think Rich was a bad idea, just a man who had made a bad decision or two about love. Everyone did that at some point.

"Is that the whole horrific tale?"

Rich nodded.

"Ok then." He got up from the stool, left his glass on the counter and walked into the kitchen, stopping an inch from where Rich stood.

He rested a hand against Rich's chest and leaned close, teasing him with the notion of a kiss for a brief moment before their lips met. It sparked the same blaze they'd had in the car, only this time there was nothing to keep them apart. Rich slid a hand behind his neck and pulled him closer as he wrapped arms around Rich and pressed against him.

As far as he was concerned, talking was over. There was nothing but the sound of lips and tongues and the bubbling of spaghetti sauce.

Chapter 11

They stood against the counter kissing and caressing through clothes as the room filled with the scent of beef and tomato. Rich let go of him long enough to turn off the burner while he stood panting, desire making his hands twitch with the impulse to grab Rich and press him against the closest available surface. He didn't want to stop for something as inconsequential as food. He wanted to finish what they'd started, and right there in the kitchen was fine with him.

Rich seemed to have the same idea because he took his hand and led him out of the kitchen to the living room. He didn't wait for Rich to start an awkward conversation about who topped. They'd figure that out as they went. Instead, he wrapped arms around Rich where they stood by the couch and dove back into the kiss. He smiled against his lips when unfamiliar fingers began fumbling with the belt at his waist before tugging the shirt from his pants. Rich burrowed under the fabric and the sensation of hands on his skin sent a jolt through him. They were really going to do this. No more stalling. No more stories.

He followed Rich's lead and did the same, jerking the shirt out of his pants and gaining enough distance to fumble with the buttons. His hands trembled with anticipation adding a degree of difficulty, and when the last button came free, he slid the material from Rich's shoulders, giving himself points for not tearing it off him. He broke the kiss to tug the undershirt over Rich's head, revealing a grand display of skin with broad shoulders, toned arms, and a chest sprinkled with hair. He was trim without the bulk of a man who spent too much time at the gym. These weren't muscles cultivated for show. He used them for golf and tennis and he had no idea what else.

He leaned close and kissed one side of Rich's chest, caressing his ribs, fingers tumbling over hair and the gentle swells of muscle. He could imagine the toned legs, tight ass, and hair gathered at a place he intended to know quite well before the night was through, but he was tired of imagining. He reached for Rich's belt but Rich stopped him stilling his hands.

"There's no reason to do this on the couch when there's a perfectly good bed upstairs."

He smiled. "Even better."

Rich led him up the steps and onto the small landing with a view of the living room below. He followed him into a bedroom done in the same colors as the rest of the townhouse with a king-sized bed dominating the space. Awkward tension doused some of the heat and he took the opportunity to unbutton his own shirt while he tried to think of something to say. Small talk during sex had never been his thing. He preferred random mumbles between kisses and hands finding their own way.

"Let me do that." Rich stopped him and he let him finish unbuttoning his shirt and tug his undershirt off.

Rich leaned close and kissed his shoulder, gliding a hand across his chest and around his ribs to pull him closer. The kiss wasn't as desperate as it had been downstairs, but it was just as hot as Rich slid a hand into his hair, the other drifting down to cup his ass through his pants.

Phrases about how long he'd wanted to do this floated through his head and died before they reached his tongue. His mouth was too busy for conversation and he didn't intend to stop what he was doing to deliver inane thoughts about the past weeks of pent up desire. He was pretty sure Rich knew all about it. There was no way he could miss the erection pressed against his thigh.

"On the bed," he mumbled against Rich's mouth and got a nod in response.

Rich broke the kiss and crawled onto the bed. He crawled after him watching as the man before him transformed into an uncertain boy, concern and unspoken questions gathering in his expression. For a brief moment, he didn't understand the change. Then he remembered James and a concept floated to the surface that Rich had failed to highlight.

James had been his only lover as a teenager. There had been a brief gap in college void of any details and then James had returned to dominate five of the past five and a half years. It was possible James was the only guy Rich had ever been with. It was probably better if he didn't go charging into sex like a kid turned loose in a toy store.

He straddled Rich where he lay and watched him attempt to get comfortable, lacing his fingers under his head. He leaned close to kiss his chest.

"Is anything off limits?" He mumbled against his skin while he unfastened Rich's belt.

"Anything extreme."

"Define 'extreme'." He kissed a trail along one rib and unbuttoned Rich's pants.

"Anything that fits in the BDSM category. You know, slapping, biting, shit like that."

He nodded and continued wandering Rich's chest with his mouth. "Do you like to be held down?" He unzipped Rich's pants.

"Not as a rule but here and there it's ok." He heard the tension in Rich's voice as he peeled open his pants to reveal the pronounced bulge in his boxer-briefs.

"Is anything a must have?" He kissed the bulge, breathing over it for a moment smiling at the sensation of a hand in his hair.

"No." Rich went a little breathless.

He lifted his head and met a tangle of emotions in brown eyes. "Do you top or bottom?"

"Bottom. I've never tried top."

He nodded and kissed Rich's stomach, hiding his surprise behind a neutral expression. Rich was one of the most virginal men he'd ever had. He was used to lovers who had gone through a wild phase at some point in their history, trying everything at least once before settling into a comfortable routine. He supposed Rich's lack of experimenting made sense with his minimal history, especially if James hadn't been the type to encourage it.

He scooted further down Rich's legs and tucked fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pants. Rich lifted his ass off the bed as he slid them down his hips and a proud pink cock sprang into the air. He'd intended to stop there but the sudden urge to see all of Rich inspired him to crawl off his legs and shove his pants and boxers down to his ankles leaving him in nothing but his socks.

He was an incredible expanse of man, the kind you could put in a magazine and have men all over the globe jerking off to the photo. How James gave this up to play with girls, he had no idea. The man obviously wasn't right in the head.

He ran hands along Rich's legs before kneeling between them to kiss a trail along the inside of one thigh. He settled at the joint to kiss and lick his way across it making Rich shudder.

"Do you have lube somewhere?" He mumbled to his skin and wrapped a hand around him.

"In the dresser," Rich breathed.

"Which drawer?" He gave his cock a single stroke.

"Top one on the right side," Rich said in something close to a groan.

He crawled off the mattress and padded to the dresser to tug open the drawer. He found a bottle of lube and a string of condoms and carried both with him as he settled back where he'd been.

Rich was plump and heavy in his hand. Not an impressive kind of big but the kind he wouldn't mind riding for a while, thick and strong and oh so good, but that wasn't on the schedule. He wasn't in the mood to be someone's first time that night so he put the idea away for later, and took Rich into the one place guaranteed to be good for both of them. Rich's hand found his head again and fingers tightened in his hair. Rich's gasping became a long low groan as he swallowed him, holding his hips to the bed to keep him from thrusting. He felt a shudder roll through him and let him slide free just ahead of several bursts of cum. He hadn't thought Rich was that close. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Rich sat up and grabbed his cock jerking off with frantic strokes until he was empty. Then he rested back on his elbows panting at him.

"I think that makes it my turn," Rich announced without any apologies for coming so fast.

He liked that. Maybe Rich wasn't as virginal as he'd thought

"I think so." He stretched out on the bed.

Rich unfastened his belt and opened his pants in an imitation of what he'd done. He didn't need the careful tenderness but he didn't complain. When Rich went down on him, it demolished the virginal title. He might not have had much variation in lovers, but there was nothing inexperienced in the way Rich gave head. He gripped the comforter in both hands trying not to squirm as fire gathered in his balls. Rich released him seconds away from a climax and he bit off a displeased groan as the sensation hovered there for a moment before drifting back down.

Rich kissed his way up his body before settling at his mouth. Skin on skin they kissed and caressed, testing the waters, teasing each other as they rolled into and out of the dominant position. When he had Rich under him again he broke the kiss and tugged the hands from his body, holding Rich's wrists to the bed. Straddling his stomach, he kissed him slow and deep.

"On your knees," he instructed from inches away.

Rich nodded and he let him up. He knelt between his feet and took his time warming him up before reaching for the lube. As much as he wanted him, he wasn't going to rush that part. Rich had been in dry dock for months. Foreplay was mandatory if he wanted to avoid a disaster. Rich was gasping and groaning long before he got to the point of rolling on a condom, and just like every step before he was slow and careful as he reintroduced him to sex.

He didn't have words for the moment when they moved together for the first time. Weeks of anticipation hadn't done it justice. He'd walked into the townhouse imagining hot and hard with clothes tossed around the room and someone taking someone else up against whatever furniture presented itself. He'd imagined at some point something a bit less frantic would happen, but he hadn't envisioned that sweet, tender moment with Rich in his arms. He wasn't used to things like that until he'd been with someone awhile and emotion had a chance to catch up with animal lust. Of course, he wasn't usually with someone that required that much care either.

He caressed a path up Rich's spine and kissed sweat covered skin as he listened to him moan.

"Deeper," Rich gasped and he obeyed.

Rich groaned and reached down to grab his cock. He batted his hand away and did it for him. The sound that poured out of him was almost pained.

"Fuck me," Rich begged. "Harder."

He gave up tender and slammed into him a few times.

"Take me, just like that."

He let go of Rich's cock to hold his hips and set up a punishing rhythm, their bodies slapping together fast and hard until Rich grunted to the beat. He felt his body tighten around him and knew he was coming but there was no sound to back it up. He didn't scream or growl or cry out. He just shuddered in his hands tensed for a moment or two and then relaxed again.

He came a few strokes later and stopped. Rich melted to the bed in front of him and he let him, pulling free at the same time. He stripped off the condom, tossed it aside and draped himself over Rich, half on top of him. He kissed his shoulder where he lay with his head pillowed in his arms. Rich turned his head to smile at him and rolled to wrap arms around him. Rich settled into his mouth and paused there before pushing him onto his back and straddling him.

Rich pinned his hands to the bed the way he had done and nudged his legs apart with a knee before settling between them and pressing their cocks together. If he hadn't known better he would have thought Rich was getting ready to return the favor.

"You're very good. You know that?" Rich broke the kiss, looking down at him.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"I didn't do much besides kneel there and take it."

"It didn't feel that way to me."

Rich kissed him again.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure." The eyebrows slid up his forehead.

"I've never had anything like that."

"What do you mean?"

Rich paused for a moment, choosing his words. "I'm used to kissing, giving head, and then taking a slap shot into the net, if you know what I mean." Rich pulled back a little further and scowled at him. "Wait. You're not a hockey man. A line drive across the pitcher's mound?"

He smiled. "A lot less finesse?"

Rich nodded. "I've always played bottom to guys who've never tried it. They don't understand how it feels to have something jammed into you all at once."

"Guys...or a guy?" He asked.

Rich looked back at him. "Pretty obvious?"

"Only from the story." He shook his head.

Rich leaned close and kissed his neck still holding his hands to the bed. "I guess it's just as well there were breaks in between when I was younger," Rich mumbled to his skin. "I don't think my ass could have taken that on a regular basis."

He smiled to the ceiling and lifted his chin as Rich worked his way up his neck. He felt Rich thrust against him a time or two.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

"Not tonight." Rich's head came up. "But I wouldn't mind something a bit less civilized."

"What did you have in mind?"

Rich released his hands and caressed a path down his body with one of them before reaching down to grab his ass with a firm grip. "I want you to bend me over something and fuck me hard."

"If you insist." He grinned at the ceiling. "After all, what kind of guest would I be if I didn't play by the house rules?"

"I like that attitude." Rich rolled off him and crawled off the bed, grabbing the lube and condoms as he went.

Chapter 12

Liam stepped through the front door with his arms full of grocery bags, and dumped them on the counter. It was his day off so that meant shopping, laundry and sex. He hated days off.

If he had his way, he would have worked seven days a week in the restaurant and loved every minute of it. It was odd to think of waiting tables as a refuge, but all anyone wanted from him there was to bring their food and refill their water. Walt cooked things for him when he looked hungry. Leslie patted his arm on the way by as a gesture of simple affection. It was uncomplicated and pleasant. It was too bad they didn't have room in the back for a cot. Otherwise, he would never leave. It was funny how little things had changed in three years. That was the same thought he used to have when closing time had meant a night sleeping on the street.

Instead, he woke twice a week to the depression and anxiety that went with spending the day having sex on command. Somewhere around ten o'clock a man he didn't know would walk through the front door. The lights would go on in the living room. His robe would come off and he'd have to pretend he didn't mind being banged by a stranger while his boyfriend directed every thrust and groan. On a good day, he thought of it as a bizarre fetish, but he rarely had those. Most of the time he preferred not to think about it at all. It was too depressing.

He shrugged out of his coat and plucked a bottle from one of the bags before tucking it under his shirt. With his eyes on the carpet so he wouldn't have to look at the set, he strode across the apartment.

"Is that you, babe?" Cord called from his office.

"Yeah."

"We should be ready to start in about half an hour."

"Ok."

He closed himself in the bathroom and pulled the bottle out of his shirt before unscrewing the cap and taking three great gulps of vodka, grimacing as it went down. An uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu washed over him as dark memories trickled out of the shadows of his mind adding to his depression.

He had no idea how many times he'd used that particular drug to numb his mind and shut off the pain during his time on the street. Most of that year was a blur of alcohol and drugs. He'd swallowed or smoked anything to wipe away reality for a few hours. It hadn't mattered what it was. Any escape would do.

Things were different now. Drugs were as easy to get as vodka, but if he did the shoot high, Cord would know and he didn't want him to find out. He'd take away his stash and there was no way he was doing another shoot sober. If he couldn't get away from the scene using his imagination, he'd use something else.

He'd always known he didn't have a choice about sex if he wanted to stay in Cord's apartment. Cord had never been violent with him but he'd made it clear there was no such thing as a free ride. Cord spent his time filming, editing, and searching for investors, and didn't have time to get a second job. They couldn't live on what he made at the burger place and almost everything Cord made from the website went back into the business. He would gladly take a second job if it meant he didn't have to do the shoots anymore. Unfortunately, as the featured ass on the company's only website he was worth more to Cord on film than in a second minimum wage job. It wasn't a pleasant thought. At the same time, it meant Cord needed him. It was a complicated mess and getting worse by the day.

For years he'd told himself what he had with Cord wasn't just about the money. Cord loved him and deep down he wanted him to be happy. He wasn't so sure anymore. There was no way to sugar coat the truth behind Cord's new toy. Making videos was obviously more important than his feelings, because Cord hadn't asked what was bothering him or why he was upset lately. He hadn't offered to talk about it or made any real attempt to comfort him. He'd shoved some flowers in his face, shoved a toy up his ass, and it was back to business.

It was time to face the truth. His body was no longer his own. That shouldn't have been a profound revelation. Somewhere inside he'd known it for a long time, but he'd always glossed over it with the idea that sometimes love was difficult and you had to do things you didn't like in order to make a relationship last. That excuse didn't work anymore.

He was heartbroken and angry. The urge to tell Cord where he could shove his new toy crashed around in his chest adding to the ache. He couldn't say the words because the situation was still the same. If Cord threw him out, he had nowhere to go but back on the street.

He swallowed another mouthful and set the bottle on the counter. He took great care not to make any noise as he removed the lid from the toilet tank. Screwing the cap on tight, he slid the bottle into the water and closed the tank again while a warm glow floated around in his stomach. He flushed to maintain the illusion that he'd been in there for a legitimate reason and went back to the kitchen to unload groceries wondering why he hadn't thought of that idea months ago. As long as he didn't act drunk and wasn't wasted enough to barf in the middle of the scene nobody would care. He wasn't sure how well a minimal buzz would cover eight hours of unwanted sex, but it was better than doing it sober.

He finished in the kitchen and trudged to the bedroom to strip off his clothes. He was tying the belt of his loathsome robe in place when he heard a knock at the front door.

"You ready?" Cord called from across the apartment.

"Yeah," he said focusing on the warm glow.

He heaved a sigh and stepped into the living room where his partner for the day was waiting. He was another cookie cutter with tanned skin and a chiseled body.

"How do you want to start his?" Cookie Cutter asked as he tugged the shirt off over his head to reveal the obligatory six-pack abs.

"Hold on a second. We're not quite ready," Cord said where he fiddled with the camera on the tripod.

A moment later, there was a second knock at the door.

"Now we're ready." Cord strode across the room while he tried to figure out what it meant.

The idea that Cord might be replacing him in the scene made him uneasy. Of course, if he wasn't doing the shoot why had Cord told him to get dressed?

"Sorry I'm late. Couldn't find a place to park."

A man strode through the door with the same build as the first.

"No problem. We're just about to get started."

His vodka buzz wasn't strong enough to keep him from figuring out what Cord had in mind. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run across the room and lock himself in the bathroom like a child. He wanted to puke.

For over two years Cord had placated his self-loathing about being a whore by telling him doing porn just made him an actor like everyone else. Whores did three-ways and orgies. Actors did singles. It was simple if not unfounded logic, but he'd held onto it with both hands because it was all he had. He stood by the bed watching his two partners for the day look each other over while Cord's latest insult went screaming through his head. Cord wanted to turn him into an official whore without bothering to tell him in advance. He was going to spend the rest of the day being passed from hand to hand like a joint, violated every possible way at once, because one cock wasn't humiliating enough.

A wave of revulsion nearly pushed the vodka right back out of his stomach. He felt the bile rising in his throat and clamped a hand over his mouth before bolting to the bathroom and gagging over the sink praying the vodka stayed down. He needed it right now. In fact, he needed to pull the bottle back out of the toilet and swallow the rest of it.

Cord was a few steps behind him.

"Are you ok?"

He turned his head far enough to glare at him but kept the tirade to himself.

"I know," Cord pushed the door closed, "but I didn't want to tell you in advance because I knew you'd take it wrong."

"How am I supposed to take it?" He snapped.

"It's just one extra cock. It's not like I'm sending you into a gang bang." Cord sighed and stepped to him, resting a hand on his back where he stood with arms braced against the counter leaning over the sink. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you but it was for your own good."

"What happened to 'three ways are for whores'?"

"The industry's changing. People want to see group sex and if we're going to keep up we need to branch out." Cord stepped close and wrapped arms around his middle pulling him away from the sink. "You can do this, babe, I know you can." He kissed his cheek. "It's just like your first few times. Remember how uptight you were? Once you got into it things were fine."

He didn't answer. He remembered those shoots and months of feeling humiliated and degraded. It had taken a long time to figure out how to justify it in his mind enough to stop crying himself to sleep every night. Bringing that up now wasn't helping Cord's case.

"We'll make this quick. I promise."

"How do you make a three-way quick?"

"Don't be like that, babe."

"Well an extra cock is going to take longer isn't it?"

Cord let go of him and turned him around by the fingers gripping his chin. "It'll be over before you know it." He kissed his nose. "Are you ready?"

"Does it matter?"

Annoyance crept into Cord's attempt at an endearing smile. "If you don't want to do this then we won't do it, but I have to pay these guys one way or the other. If I don't have a new scene to show for it, then how am I supposed to recover the cost?"

"They can just fuck each other." He shrugged.

"What's wrong with you today?" Cord scowled.

"Nothing," he snapped.

A twitch of anger tugged at Cord's expression before he covered it with a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, Sexy Boy. I should have told you. After all, it's your ass. You have a right to know."

"Yes, I do."

"If you do it this once I promise you the next time I'll tell you in advance."

"'Next time'?"

"I'm not saying we're going to make this a regular part of the routine. Consider this like a sweeps week special. It's going to be hotter than hot, and every now and then we might do it again just to keep things fresh."

"Whatever you say."

"Come on, show me that smile."

He scowled back at him.

"Are you going to do this or do I pay these guys and send them home?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?" he waved a hand in the air to go with his flippant tone.

"I'll make it up to you later. I promise," Cord offered with a hand rested against his cheek.

"Let's just get it over with."

"My thoughts exactly." Cord turned and opened the door before ushering him out.

They went through the typical pre-shoot discussion of mood and positions, and then Cord called "action". He played along, tolerating the touches and kisses before floating away to the beach while they used his body like a sex toy. He cuddled his ball of vodka-inspired warmth closer and refused to think about the fact that he was right back where he'd started years ago.

He kept his eyes on the waves and the birds, refusing to watch the display even from a distance. He never did. Nothing that happened on that bed was his concern because it wasn't his body. It belonged to some other poor bastard trapped in a nightmare.

Chapter 13

It was late enough to have spilled into early and he should have been tired but he wasn't as he walked through the silent building. Riding a high from the lingering sensation of Rich, Justin doubted he'd even get to sleep that night. He strode down the deserted hallway with what he knew was a self-satisfied smile. He didn't need a mirror to know he looked like a man who had just scored and had a very good time doing it.

He loved that part of relationships when everything was new and sex was an adventure as they learned each other's bodies. He teased himself with the idea of taking a long weekend in Rich's bed riding that gorgeous ass until it couldn't take anymore.

The sight of Liam sitting in the hall as he rounded the corner rumpled his mood a little.

"Hey, Liam," he called in a loud whisper.

Liam's head came up in a slow arch.

"You ok?" He cast several glances at him as he dug the keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door.

"Sure." Liam twitched an unconvincing smile. "Never better."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Something was off. Liam was either stoned or drunk and in two years, he'd never seen him anything but sober. It wouldn't have been a big deal had it not happened on the heels of Liam bursting into tears in his arms. Something was going on in that apartment across the hall and it wasn't good.

"Doing a little partying?" He whispered as he stepped closer.

"Just a little." Liam held up a hand with his index finger and thumb an inch apart.

"Maybe you should go inside and sleep it off."

"Bad idea." He shook his head.

"Why?"

"Cord's in there."

"So?"

"He doesn't know I'm drunk and I want to keep it that way."

"Ah." He nodded. "Do you want to come inside until you sober up?"

"That's ok." Liam waved him off. "You go to sleep."

"I wasn't really planning on sleeping."

"Want to get drunk then?" Liam gave him a sloppy grin.

Justin leaned down and took him by the arm, tugging him to his feet.

"No but I think you could use some sobering up. Come on."

He ushered him across the hall and into his darkened apartment, turning on the light and shutting them inside. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and watched Liam collapse in a heap on the couch.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and walked it over to him.

"Drink this."

"I'm not thirsty...unless you've got some vodka around here somewhere."

"Nope. Just water. You can pretend it's vodka. Come on, drink up."

"Why?" Liam scowled at the bottle.

"Because it'll spare you a raging headache in the morning, and if you don't want Cord finding out you've been drinking you need to be able to hide the hangover. Drink."

Liam took the bottle and twisted the top off before taking a few healthy swings that drained almost half of it. He flopped down on the couch with him and settled into a comfortable spot.

"Want to talk about it?"

"What?" Liam asked with his head rested against the back of the couch staring at the ceiling.

"Whatever has you drunk in the hall in the middle of the night."

Liam blinked slowly at the craggy landscape overhead. "In some ways Cord's a lot like my dad," he mumbled. "Not exactly though, because that would make him a cold-hearted bastard. Wait...no, I think I'm right." Liam nodded at the ceiling. "They're like the same guy, you know?"

"How so?" He watched Liam talk to the ceiling in a quiet, slurred voice.

"They both think I make a good whore."

A smile that didn't reach Liam's eyes appeared and slid away again.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he told me so."

"Cord?"

"No, my dad. He said he wasn't going to have a deviant whore for a son." Liam rolled his head to the side to look at him. "If he'd caught me with a girl it would have been a totally different story. He would have patted me on the back and gone off bragging about it," Liam sighed. "Girls would have made everything a hell of a lot easier."

He nodded along with the story he didn't understand.

"Girls are ok. Boys make me a whore. I think that makes him a fucking hypocrite. What do you think?"

"I'd have to agree."

Liam nodded and rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Cord's not like that. He likes that I do men. In fact, he loves it, but why shouldn't he? It's making his career." Liam waved a hand in the air and lifted his head to take another drink of water.

"What do you mean?"

"He films me and sells it."

The eyebrows slide up his forehead and he blinked at Liam's profile, his brain rejecting the image the statement conjured.

"He what?"

Liam rolled his head back to look at him. "You didn't know, did you?"

"Know what?"

Liam leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. "Cord likes to tell people he's a producer and everybody assumes he's making cute little independent films." A small smile played across his lips. "He's not." Liam rolled his gaze back to the ceiling and for a moment, he was silent. "You want to know what I did today? I spent nine hours letting strangers fuck me so Cord can sell it online for god knows how much an hour. Maybe it's a month. I don't know how that shit works." Liam waved at the ceiling

The words slammed into him like a fist, evaporating his pleasant afterglow. Liam lifted his head to take another drink of water and spent a long moment staring at the bottle in his hand.

"He turned me into the whore Dad said I was," he mumbled. "Technically I'm a porn star," Liam twitched an attempt at a smile, "but it's all the same...and 'whore' fits. Porn star makes it sound like I actually have a choice. I don't think they celebrate the end of a shoot by sitting in the hall drinking away a sore ass in the middle of the night and I'm pretty sure they get paid."

"You have a choice." He snagged the only part of the horrific story he could address.

Liam tossed him a brief glance and his lighthearted drunken routine shifted to something darker. "No I don't. Cord's not interested in what I want. Besides, I owe him."

"You don't owe him that."

"Yes, I do," Liam mumbled. "This is his career, and if I stop doing it he'd be out of work. I can't support both of us. I can't even support myself."

"That doesn't mean you have to put up with him hurting you just to further his career."

Liam shrugged. "Sometimes you have to do things you don't want when you love someone. It's the way things are." His tone said he didn't really believe it.

"Forcing you to have sex with people isn't love."

"It's close enough."

"It's not even on the same continent."

"It's not like I have a choice," he repeated. "If I don't do it then there's no reason for him to keep me around. I can either fuck who he tells me to fuck or go back to the street."

He tucked the tail end of the statement away for consideration later. He hadn't realized Liam had ever been on the street in the first place but his past wasn't relevant at the moment.

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't have to."

"Maybe you could find a new place? Move out on your own. You have a job right?"

"I can't live on it."

"What about a roommate?"

"I don't want to live with someone I don't know."

"It's better than the alternative, isn't it?"

"Yeah, up to the moment when he turns into a bastard and I'm back where I started. Cord was supposed to just let me crash on his couch for a week. 'No strings' he said. What a fucking joke."

The boneless buzz Liam had before was turning into a tense bundle of frustration, his hand clamped onto the bottle of water hard enough to crumple it.

"There has to be a solution that doesn't leave you in that apartment doing something you don't want to do."

Liam shook his head and drained the last of the water.

"Vodka's the solution. It gives me a buzz during and then wipes it all away after."

The truth filtered through his stunned and exhausted mind, emerging from the civilized retelling, and he glared at the front door to the apartment beyond where a pimp slept alone and oblivious. He wanted to march across the hall, jerk Cord out of bed and beat the crap out of him. He let the concept propel him to his feet, Liam watching.

"Where are you going?"

He stood with hands balled into fists trying to hold onto reason in a flood of anger. Years of dealing with the public for a living had taught him to put logical thought ahead of emotion, but it was difficult to be that angry and still be logical. Liam must have read the hostile intent in his face because he pushed to his feet and stood in front of him blocking his view of the door. Then he reached out and rested a hand against his chest. The slight weight was enough to turn his blaring anger down to a loud grumble.

"It won't do any good," Liam said.

"It might."

"Like a busted nose is going to make him give up his career." Liam twitched an eyebrow at him before turning to shuffle to the kitchen and throw away the empty bottle.

He had a point.

"Why don't you at least crash here tonight? You can sleep on the couch."

Liam shuffled back out of the kitchen. "Cord wouldn't like it. He'd think I was cheating on him."

"Does that matter?"

"Yes, because I have nowhere to go remember? Pissing him off won't make anything better. It's bad enough already."

They stood several feet apart staring at each other for a moment.

"I don't want to send you back to that."

Liam twitched a smile. "As long as I have a bottle of vodka I'll be ok." Then he gave a giant gaping yawn and blinked tired eyes. "Thanks for the water." He shuffled toward the door.

"You're welcome." He followed closing the door behind him and hating that Liam was going to crawl back in bed with that monster.

Impotent anger washed over him and he gripped the doorknob, toying with the idea of marching across the hall and waking Cord with a solid punch to the nose anyway. He hated not being able to stop what was happening to Liam. Images slithered into his mind of some naked muscle bound idiot holding Liam down and raping him in front of the camera. He shoved them away. Most likely, it was a very civilized scene with Liam pretending he didn't hate every minute of it. He didn't look brutalized, at least not anywhere he could see. He just looked depressed.

One thing was certain. He'd never look at porn the same way again.

Chapter 14

Justin dragged himself out of bed long after sunrise with surreal scenes from the night before crowding his head. He'd finally dozed off somewhere around five and dreamed of harsh punishing sex. What should have been a morning spent in the shower reliving a night with Rich was an exercise in frustrated helplessness, anger crowding the space like steam until he was back to wanting to beat Cord into a bleeding heap on the floor.

Unanswered questions had gathered in the dark where he'd tossed and turned. Liam's upset was only days old. He'd been a little quiet and withdrawn for months but this was different and he didn't understand what had changed between Liam and Cord. Why after the years they'd spent together had Cord decided to force Liam into prostitution disguised as porn? He couldn't comprehend that level of cruelty.

It was bad enough that Cord sat and watched people having sex with Liam, but degrading him for public entertainment was unconscionable. It made him wonder what other reprehensible things Cord had done to the kid over the years.

He rinsed suds from his hair and skin, shut off the water and shoved the shower curtain back before jerking a towel from the rack and scrubbing himself dry. Then he stomped to the dresser and started tugging on clothes. There was no way he would be able to stand knowing what was going on across the hall for long. There had to be a solution that didn't leave Liam on the street. He was going to find one even if he had to buy a couch with a fold out bed and make Liam his roommate.

He paused to give the concept more consideration as he zipped his jeans and slid into a t-shirt. If Cord really was trying to make a name for himself as a porn producer he wouldn't take Liam's leaving very well. Moving his reluctant star across the hall would just invite trouble, not to mention forcing Liam to stay in a building haunted by the nightmare he'd been living.

It wasn't much of a solution. He strode through the apartment to the kitchen and started the coffeemaker, wondering how far Liam's limited income would go when it came to supporting himself. Nobody said they had to get him a male roommate. There had to be women out there that wouldn't mind sharing an apartment with a mild mannered gay guy.

The insistent chiming of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts as he listened to the coffeemaker sputter. The sound of Rich's voice warmed him a little and he pushed the topic aside. He couldn't tell Rich what was going on, and sounding obviously pissed without an explanation would just inspire concern over something that wasn't Rich's problem.

"Hi," the gentle tone flowed over him.

"Hi." He smiled.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I've been up a while."

"I really enjoyed last night. When can we do that again?"

"I did, too. As far as I'm concerned we can do it whenever you want."

"How about tonight?"

"That sounds perfect."

"It's going to make it a long day, though."

"If you're too tired we can wait a day."

"That's not what I meant. It's going to be difficult to concentrate when I can't stop thinking about how good you feel."

His cock gave an appreciative little twitch. "Me, too. It's a shame you weren't around this morning. The shower could have been much more fun."

"You should have called me."

"I didn't want to sound too eager."

"Don't worry about it. I love the way you sound...and taste and feel and god I want you right now."

"Save it for later."

"Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I have plans to wear you out tonight."

"Oh really."

"Really. I want to watch you cum a few dozen times."

"That sounds pleasantly exhausting."

"It will be. I'd suggest you take a nap this afternoon."

"I could say the same to you. That shiny refrigerator in the kitchen will look great with you up against it, and I want to use the couch a few more times. There's something about riding somebody on cowhide that gets to me."

"You're going to get me in trouble."

"Why? Where are you?"

"Sitting in my office looking out the window and getting harder by the minute."

He smiled. "Do I get extra points if I inspire you to jerk off under your desk?"

"Oh don't worry I'll give you an extra something."

"Then I should probably tell you I'm standing here in boxers and nothing else," he lied.

"Go on."

"Want me to hold the phone out so you can hear me take them back off?"

Rich let out a quiet groan. "Please don't. You're seriously going to get me in trouble."

"Then maybe you should hang up."

"I think so. I have a meeting in half an hour, and I don't want to broadcast that I'm doing a desperate countdown until I have you in my hands again. It would be difficult to explain."

"Not really but the answer probably isn't suitable for the office."

"No," Rich sighed. "I'll be finished at 5:30. Why don't you meet me here? I'll pick up something for dinner and we can spend the rest of the night making my fantasies come true."

"How could I possibly resist such a romantic invitation?"

"Oh I can show you romantic."

"I have no doubt," he said as a fresh burst of desire raced through him. "See you tonight."

He considered stripping back out of his jeans and wandering through a couple of fantasies of his own in the quiet of his empty apartment, but decided to wait. Anticipation was half the fun. He'd let Rich drain it back out of him one touch at a time.

He poured a cup of coffee content to drift in the more pleasant topic of Rich while Liam dominated the back of his mind. Last night had been hot and a little less civilized than the first night, but still relegated to the minimal top floor of the townhouse. He had plans to jump Rich the moment they were inside and take him up against the first available surface. He was looking forward to being a bit less cautious with his ass. He wanted to see what new sounds he could coax out of him. He also wanted to finally feel that nice thick cock inside him. Rich had missed out on a lot by wasting so many years on James. He intended to show him how much.

He dropped bread in the toaster, his hands shuddering with a fine tremor as he fought the temptation to release a bit of pent up energy. The muted sound of a door closing out on the hall jerked his attention away from his fantasies and flipped his thoughts right back to Liam. The topic of sex melted into a hot and horrible thing as the two men in his life stood at opposite ends of it. He wanted to fuck one into the floor and protect the other from the same thing. His cock was still thinking about riding Rich. His brain was stuck on men violating Liam and somewhere in the middle it created a conflicted ball of annoyance.

He smeared a layer of butter on his toast and carried it to the living room, biting off a corner of one piece as he turned on the television. He needed to think about something besides sex before he drove himself insane.

Chapter 15

Justin walked to the front door with Rich a step behind, a dark robe hanging from his shoulders. He suspected he'd left it open as an invitation for one more ride but it was late and the cab was on the way.

"Do you have to go?"

"You tell me? You're the guy who has to be at work in a few hours."

"I know," Rich sighed.

He stepped close and kissed him, the taste and smell of this intriguing man enveloping him. He rested a hand against Rich's chest for a brief moment then slid it around his ribs to his back, pulling him closer. They both needed sleep, but he wouldn't have minded still being in each other's arms when the sun rose. He couldn't get enough of Rich, floating in the insatiable desire of a new lover. It was too new for emotion but it was perfect for unbridled lust.

A horn honked outside and he broke the kiss.

"That's for me."

Rich nodded back at him, the unspoken request for him to stay scrawled across his face. He wasn't ready for the part where they woke up together. He didn't think Rich really was either. If what they had was going to become a real thing he didn't want to start it by practically moving in together after only a few days. That was a little too fast even if he did love the idea of a quick good morning fuck before they got dressed for the day.

He dragged a hand across Rich's skin as he let him go stopping short of teasing him with fingers trailed along his wilted cock. He tugged open the front door, stepped into the foyer and then into the silent neighborhood. He climbed in the back of the waiting cab and forced himself to stay awake long enough to get home, his eyelids drooping the entire trip.

The apartment was just as quiet as Rich's neighborhood, and he strode through the halls while last night's conversation with Liam gained volume in his head. This time there was no drunken kid in the hall. He took that as a good sign.

He paused outside their apartment and held his ear to the door just to make sure. He heard only silence. He stepped back across the hall with a yawn and opened his own door. They probably filmed in the middle of the day so they wouldn't disturb the neighbors. How very considerate of Cord.

He tossed his keys on the counter and shuffled to the bedroom pausing only long enough to strip off his jeans and shirt. Then he flopped on the bed and was asleep seconds later.

When he woke, the sun was up and his cell phone was chiming from inside the pocket of his discarded jeans. He crawled out of bed and padded over to the pile of denim. He found the phone in time to hear it stop ringing. The display said it was the hotel manager, Mr. Lees, and he groaned as he hit the button to return the call. If he was calling him at seven in the morning on his day off it meant one thing.

"Mr. Lee's office."

"Hi, it's Justin," he croaked. "I think he's trying to reach me."

"Yes, he is. One moment."

He yawned during the brief pause and wandered toward the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

"Justin, thanks for getting back to me so promptly," he could hear the smile. "I apologize if I woke you but I'm afraid I have a favor to ask."

"Let me guess. Nancy's out sick again."

"Unfortunately."

It was getting to be a regular occurrence. In any other position, using sick time as soon as it accumulated would have been annoying but manageable. For an assistant manager it was more than annoying. There was no one else to cover the position unless someone gave up a day off or the employees fended for themselves, and that wasn't an option with guest services.

"I can be in by nine. Is that soon enough?"

"That's perfect. Thank you. I'll make it up to you."

"It's no problem."

He left his cell on the counter near the sputtering coffeemaker and grumbled his way to the bathroom for a shower. He was clean, shaven, and dressed less than an hour later and on his way out the door with a travel mug in hand.

His cell chimed again while he was on the Skytrain hurtling toward downtown.

"Where are you?" Rich asked after the automated voice announced the next stop.

"On the train."

"I thought you had the day off?"

"So did I."

"I guess it's a good thing you didn't stay longer last night."

"I guess."

"As much as I hate to say it, I think I need sleep tonight. Why don't we meet for lunch instead?"

"Right now that sounds like the best idea I've heard all week."

"Assuming we can keep our hands off each other."

"We can try," he smiled.

"I'll just have to settle for telling you how great you look in a suit and how much better you look out of it."

"And I can say what a shame it is that you have to sit on that ass when I can think of better things to do with it."

Rich laughed. "Then we jerk off in the bathroom and go back to work."

"Something like that." He grinned.

"Maybe it's not such a great idea after all."

"Sure it is. There has to be something we can talk about besides sex."

"I would hope so otherwise this thing isn't going to get past the bedroom."

"We can make today a trial run."

"Good idea. I'll let you go. Give me a call when you're ready to take a break."

He tucked the phone back in his pocket and took a drink of coffee. Rich had been clear from the beginning that he was after more than just a good time. He wanted a real relationship. It was odd to have discussions with a new lover about where things were headed, but it wasn't surprising with Rich.

He'd never been with anyone like him before. He was an intriguing combination of playful and cautious. Despite his limited experience, sex with him was beyond hot. He was attentive and generous, and one of the best bottoms he'd ever had. James obviously hadn't been into pedestrian sex because Rich hadn't learned to just lie there and take it. At the same time, he had a line he wasn't ready to cross. Rich would do a lot of things to him but topping wasn't one of them yet. He'd offered again last night and Rich had refused. He wasn't used to that level of timid, but he didn't blame Rich for being skittish about certain things. Devoting all his attention to James had stunted his sexual growth a little.

He smiled as he stepped off the train with a crowd of other commuters. If their relationship lasted, he could teach Rich a few new things and their sex life would be incredible. It was already hot enough to melt the sheets. He could only imagine how much better it would be when Rich learned to swap positions.

He shifted his attention to random things as he talked himself out of a fatty. Showing up for work with a boner wasn't going to earn him any points.

Chapter 16

Justin covered a yawn as he stood behind the front desk several steps back from the counter, and eyed a group of women across the lobby. According to security, they had been gathering in drips and dribbles for the past few hours, amassing in a collection of nearly a dozen. They sat broken into small clutches talking, laughing, and keeping a determined eye on the front desk. He didn't know why they were there but he knew a potential problem when he saw it.

They ranged in age from teen to retirement and the star struck look in their eyes, coupled with almost hysterical laughter, said they weren't there for a meeting of the local knitting group. A few wore t-shirts with identical designs. Others had hair dyed a brilliant pinkish red, a color obviously not intended to mimic anything that existed naturally. They were trying to stand out without going so far as to hold welcome banners. After so many years of playing host to celebrities, he recognized the signs. They were somebody's fans.

He'd already checked the hotel register that morning for incoming guests and found no one worthy of the gathering. It made him uneasy. He hated feeling like he was about to be blindsided by something. Maybe their little clutch of enthusiasts was working off a false rumor. Maybe they were part of a flash mob but he suspected it was something else.

One of the women with dyed hair broke away from the group and strolled toward the front desk, crossing the lobby with a pleasant smile and a thousand-dollar purse hanging from her meaty arm. She was one of the matriarchs of the group, the lines on her face indicating someone well over fifty despite the lack of gray hair.

"Excuse me," she said in a polite little voice. "Can you tell me when Gerry Stark is due to check in?"

He let the front desk staff field the question as he stepped to a vacant computer at the far end of the counter to bring up the day's guest list. He didn't need to stand guard over his employees. They knew their jobs and they knew the rules about discretion and guest privacy.

Without looking at her computer, Jillian informed her they couldn't confirm he had a reservation.

"Oh, I know he does. I'm a personal friend. He told me he was flying in today, and he usually stays here."

He clamped down on a smile at the badly crafted lie as he continued typing a short distance away, bringing up the profile of the target of her obsession. She was right. Mr. Stark was due in that day and had a list of special requests that had already designated him high maintenance. He wasn't famous, just picky. Well, that was almost the truth.

By Rosenthal standards, he wasn't famous. According to the web search, his career was taking a wandering path through obscurity, but that wasn't their concern. They intended to treat him like any other guest. They also intended to keep his gaggle of admirers under control. Either Mr. Stark was enough of an attention addict to broadcast his travel itinerary to his fans, or he had a leak somewhere in his entourage. He didn't care to speculate which. The impact was the same regardless, and he was going to do what he could to keep the situation under control.

The fan standing at the front desk was still attempting to wheedle information out of Jillian with her best smile, flashing fingers littered with jewelry.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Jillian repeated, "but I cannot give out any information."

"Not even just to confirm he's a guest?"

"No ma'am."

"Can I leave him a message then?"

"You can leave a message if you'd like but I can't guarantee he will receive it since I can't confirm he's an actual guest of this hotel. Perhaps you should contact him yourself and confirm the hotel through him."

The smile evaporated into a pinched scowl and the woman turned and stalked away.

"Obviously a very close friend if she has to use us to confirm his plans," Jillian muttered.

"Manners, Jillian," he said.

"Sorry, Mr. Evans."

She was relatively new to the hotel, trying to work her way up from front desk to concierge, but she had a few things to prove first. The ability to keep her tongue from wagging was one of them. Being polite to their most obnoxious guests was another.

The women huddled in the corner now glaring at the front desk from across the room weren't guests, but the man they were stalking was. They deserved the same courtesy he got until they did something worthy of being ejected from the property. He didn't expect that to take long.

Every employee's back went straight, and conversation halted mid-word when Mr. Lees stepped out from behind the partition shielding the front desk from the employee area. They didn't see him often because as manager he spent most of his time in his office pouring over the copious doses of paperwork generated by the hotel. He had budgets to watch, penthouse VIPs to pamper, and new business to generate. The front desk wasn't Mr. Lees' concern, it was his, but he didn't need to ask why he'd decided to make a rare appearance.

"How's it going out here?" He asked in a tone barely above a whisper, eyeing the gathering of fans across the lobby.

"So far so good."

"Do we know why they're here?"

"Incoming guest," he matched Mr. Lees' tone.

"Anyone I need to be aware of?"

"No, Sir. Just a pseudo-celebrity with a cult following. Nothing that warrants VIP treatment." He stepped away from the counter and further into the corner, almost out of sight of the reception area.

"Damn actors," Mr. Lees growled in a low rumble.

He nodded along. Like every hotel, they had a love-hate relationship with the film industry. Actors both attracted and generated a lot of chaos, and that was bad for business. At the same time, their continued appearance through the front doors was as good as any endorsement. Catering to the famous made them a lot of money.

"Any idea why he's in town?"

"None, but all I've done so far is a cursory search. I can dig a little deeper if you want."

"How long is he here?"

"Four days."

"Then skip the search." Mr. Lees waved the idea away and turned his attention from the fans. "It's either a bit part or a meeting. I wish I knew when he was coming in. I would love to kick them out before he gets here. I don't want a scene disturbing our other guests."

He nodded along. They had real VIPs in the hotel. A lot of screeching and carrying on would get on their nerves. Not to mention the increased chaos when the screeching fans started screeching over people who qualified as actual celebrities. They couldn't have that.

"I can have security escort them out."

"If they haven't purchased anything in the hotel or at the bar, then do it. This is a guest-only lobby, and if they're not paying customers then we've solved our problem." Mr. Lees patted him on the shoulder and disappeared back into the depths of the hotel.

He motioned to the security guard stationed a discreet distance from the gaggle of women. Gary strode over to him dressed in his Rosenthal uniform.

"Yes, sir?"

"Call Tyler down here and have him join you by the door. We have Mr. Lees' permission to escort these women outside before it gets any worse."

"Yes, sir." A small smile lit his face and he grabbed the radio from his hip to call for reinforcements.

Tyler was their youngest guard. He was also over six feet tall with an affection for lifting weights. Between the three of them, he had no doubt they could break up the group that seemed content with passive-aggressive glaring.

He waited until Tyler appeared and then strolled over to the gaggle of fans with the guards in tow. A dozen pairs of eyes tracked his approach.

"Can I be of assistance, ladies?"

"We're just waiting for someone."

"Is that someone a guest of the hotel?"

"You tell us," one of them said.

"Let me rephrase the question. Has that guest already checked into the hotel?"

"No. That's why we're waiting."

"Are any of you currently guests at the Rosenthal?"

"No."

"Then unless you have official business here or are a paying guest I must ask you to leave."

"We're not hurting anything."

"This is a guest-only lobby and I'm sure you ladies can appreciate that we're trying to run a business here. We don't need unwarranted disruptions."

"We're not disrupting anything either. We're just sitting here," the same girl said, obviously the designated mouthpiece for the group.

"And if the person you are waiting to see comes through that door you're going to continue to just sit here and not make a sound?"

"Of course."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not naïve about fans, Miss. I know why you're here, and I'm pretty sure I know what you have planned. I'm asking you politely to leave. I can have you escorted out if you choose not to cooperate, but you're not staying here. Am I clear?"

"We're just here for a convention. It's not like we're hired assassins or anything."

"That may be but it's not a convention held in this hotel so, please..." he motioned to the front door.

"And what if we don't want to go?"

"Then the Vancouver Police Department will be happy to escort you out and charge you with trespassing. It's not worth that much drama is it?"

Several of the women got to their feet, grumbling and complaining as they gathered coats and bags.

"Thank you. You're free to wait outside as long as you stay back from the entrance so you don't block our guests from coming and going."

That inspired a groan and an evil glare from the mouthpiece but they trudged out just the same.

"I want two people on this door for the rest of the afternoon," he told Tyler and Gary. "Move the valet signs so they know where the boundaries are but let's be discreet about this. We're not going to make a scene for them."

"Yes, sir."

"Let me know if you have any trouble and I'll have the police wander by a time or two."

He sighed to himself as he walked back to the front desk. If they had to have twenty-four-hour security on the front door for the next four days, he was going to need to get a few luggage attendants involved.

Chapter 17

Justin's phone chimed as he strode through the hall on the eighteenth floor.

"This is Justin."

"They're on Georgia. The driver said he'll be here in about five minutes."

"I'm on my way."

He stuffed the phone in his pocket and strode toward the employee elevator without asking for details.

Over the past few hours, Gerry Stark's gaggle of fans had grown to a herd of almost thirty hovering near the front doors like a flock of paparazzi. If Gerry came through the main lobby, it would make an even bigger mess out of something that already looked like an L.A. premiere. While it was rare to let anyone but the high level VIPs use the underground entrance, the women outside weren't giving them any choice. Gerry was getting penthouse treatment whether he deserved it or not.

He stepped off the elevator and strode through the back halls, the jumbled din of muffled voices growing louder the closer he got to the lobby. It was a good thing they had sound-resistant glass, or the ruckus would have been intolerable. They'd already shushed the group at least a dozen times, and by his count that was twelve too many.

He made sure security had things under control and gave them instructions to disperse the crowd. Eight hours of fans was enough.

"They're not going to like it," Gary warned.

"Probably not but Russ has already called the police for a little support, so you should see a car rolling into the turnaround shortly. And look sharp because Mr. Lees is on his way down."

"They're going to lose it when they see the cops."

"Do what you can." He patted Gary's shoulder and headed for the VIP elevator.

He descended into the depths of the building and stepped out of the car into a glass enclosure before pushing through to the silent garage. Seconds later a white sedan with tinted windows rolled his way. It pulled to a stop at the curb and the back door opened before the driver had a chance to get out. Gerry Stark was six feet of stereotypical Hollywood with a light tan, muscles, and shades attempting to look casual in his two-hundred-dollar jeans and 40-dollar t-shirt.

"Welcome to the Rosenthal, Mr. Stark," he greeted.

"Thanks." Gerry pulled off his sunglasses and glanced around the space. "It's quiet in here."

"We prefer it that way. If you'll follow me I'll take you upstairs to check in."

The second elevator opened and a pair of luggage attendants spilled out with an empty cart in tow. They were supposed to have been in the garage already, but he wasn't going to bother with a lecture. Half the staff was upstairs dealing with the noise.

They rattled their way to the car and began pulling bags out of the trunk while he escorted Gerry to the waiting elevator.

"Is everything alright?" He asked in response to Gerry's scowl.

"Fine." He nodded and stepped inside.

It almost looked as if Gerry was disappointed by the lack of pomp over his arrival. He supposed that answered the question about how the advance party of fans had known where to find him. He probably wouldn't be happy to know his admirers were being escorted off the property at that very moment, but they had a hotel to run and other guests to consider. He'd have to get his fill of adoring fans at the convention.

He slid his cardkey through the slot near the elevator's keypad and pressed the button for the upper concierge floor. He waited until they'd stepped off the elevator on the twenty-seventh floor before calling Mr. Lees' office to let his assistant know their high maintenance guest was tucked away upstairs. He already knew Mr. Lees wasn't in his office. He was downstairs smoothing the ruffled feathers of their guests and overseeing the removal of their problem.

Standing near the elevator, he was close enough to watch Gerry stride to the concierge desk and tell Lisa he was there to check in. He struggled to control a smile at the incredulous expression on Gerry's face when she asked for his name.

"I'm Gerry Stark," he said with clear expectation in his voice.

Lisa went about her job with polite efficiency treating him like every other guest she'd never heard of, Gerry bristling at the lack of recognition. If he expected star-struck employees, he was in the wrong hotel and was speaking to the wrong concierge. Lisa had been with them for almost six years. In that time she'd seen enough temper tantrums and rude behavior to have burned off every trace of awe in the face of celebrity.

Justin pushed the call button for the elevator as she handed Gerry his passkey with a smile. The doors opened a brief moment later and he let Gerry ride down several floors to his room alone. He'd already done a check of the suite to make sure his bar was stocked with his requested brand of beer and contradictory low carb snacks. Housekeeping had swapped the pillows for his preferred goose down, and his bathroom had extra towels and a bottle of aftershave all according to his specifications. The room was perfect, though he expected a call about something before the night was over. Gerry gave off the air of a man who was difficult to please.

He was striding down the hall toward the employee elevator when his phone chimed again. He answered it expecting to get an unpleasant report from downstairs. It wasn't.

"Hi." The voice brought a smile to his face.

"Hi."

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" Rich asked.

"A little but you can keep talking until I reach the lobby."

"I just wanted to see if we're still on for an early dinner."

They'd had to cancel lunch because he hadn't wanted to leave until Gerry had arrived.

"Definitely." He checked his watch.

"How hungry are you?"

"I'll be close to starving, once I have a chance to think about it."

"Busy?"

"This place is a nuthouse today."

"We can cancel if you want."

"No. I need to unwind a little."

"Ok. I'll meet you at Fratelli's at four."

"That sounds perfect."

"See you then."

He hung up with a smile that didn't dim much as he emerged in the lobby and glanced through the front doors to a quiet and deserted entrance. Mr. Lees was wandering the tables and couches greeting guests and offering apologies.

With the lobby under control, he headed for the front door.

"Did they give you any trouble?" He asked Gary where he stood guard over an empty entrance.

"Not much, just a few choice words and a gesture or two until the police showed up. They were pretty reasonable for a bunch of mental cases."

He cocked an eyebrow at him in disapproval.

"Sorry...enthusiastic admirers."

"Better," he nodded and patted his shoulder. "Let me know if they show up again."

He wasn't sure what the next few days would bring as word of Gerry's location spread through the convention. He braced himself for another small mob scene at some point, but suspected it would be more like a select few trying to slip through the doors and into the elevator to search the upper floors for his room. They could try but they wouldn't get very far. The elevator didn't work without a passkey, and he intended to have an employee in the area politely checking for anyone who looked out of place.

He smiled his way back to the employee area and through the halls to his office. He had a daily report to type, and it was better to do it while the chaos was still fresh in his mind.

Chapter 18

Liam stared at Cord with no idea what to say while anger and fear balled his stomach into a knot.

"It'll only be for an hour or so. It won't be anything like doing a real shoot."

"Yeah, because this time it'll be with a john like I'm a goddamn street walker!"

Cord blinked back at him. It was the first time he'd dared to raise his voice to him, but the situation warranted yelling. It warranted screaming and punching, but he wasn't that brave.

"It's the same deal it's always been," Cord replied in the same calm voice. "I pay a guy to fuck you and you play along because that's your job."

"And you're ok with pimping me out to a guy you've never met?"

"Nobody said anything about pimping you out. It's a live porn scene, that's all. He wants to see you in action before he agrees to get into this. He's offering a lot of money, babe. This could be the break I've been working for...we've been working for."

"And he wants to try out the merchandise, right? Maybe get in on the action and fuck me himself?"

"No. He just wants to watch. It'll be you and someone else in his hotel room. That's as close as he gets to participating." Cord took a step closer and rested a hand against his arms where they folded in a tight knot across his chest. "We need to impress this guy and if we're going to do that we can't bring him here. This place is a dump. Believe me, I'd rather have him here where I can supervise things but..." Cord waved a hand at the wall.

The explanation was supposed to make him feel better. It didn't. In the past week, he'd gone from porn star to whore to rent boy, Cord's latest surprise reinforcing a concept he'd ignored for years. There was little difference between porn and hooking. You had sex with strangers because you had no choice, and when it was over someone got paid.

"And you're not coming because...?"

"Because I have another meeting and I can't cancel it. You'll be fine without me. He's going to love you. Trust me. I just don't want this place distracting him from how sexy you are."

Cord was trying to flatter him, but there were no words charming enough to make this feel right. He'd learned to deal with having men fuck him in front of Cord and a camera. It was humiliating but no longer mortifying. This was different. Some pervert would be sitting in the room watching everything he did with the rented cock Cord had hired. He imagined a fat, bald slob sitting in a chair at the end of the bed jerking off to the scene.

He didn't want to hear the groaned comments. He didn't want to see the lust in his face. He didn't want this nightmare to be that real, but as he stood staring back at Cord, he knew he didn't have a choice. Cord wasn't going to back down with this guy waving a check in his face. If he refused to cooperate, Cord would throw a fit. Then he would throw him out for ruining his big chance.

He hated being helpless. He hated Cord for making him do this. He hated the pervert investor who was so depraved he wanted a personal porn show. Tears slipped down his face and Cord thumbed them away.

"It's not worth tears, babe," Cord cooed at him. "It's honestly not that big a deal. Just pretend the guy is a camera and tune him out. There won't be any extra takes and no stopping to adjust the lights. Just one fuck straight through and you're done." Cord wrapped arms around him and held him close. "You'll be back here before you know it, and I'll never ask you to do anything like this again. I promise. It's a one-time thing and when it's over, we'll have enough money to get a real set somewhere. What would you think of that? You could come home to a living room with an actual couch in it."

"Please don't make me do this," he begged.

"You're getting upset over nothing, sexy boy. It's not going to be that bad. You'll see."

He stood in silence, feeling terrified and alone, and let Cord hold him close while he tried to talk himself into a different point of view. Maybe Cord was right. Maybe he was making more of it than there was. On the other hand, maybe he wasn't.

The street had been bad but was it really worse than being ordered to fuck as a second job? Was it worse than being sent across town to earn money for his producer turned pimp? Hell, if he was going to be an official whore he might as well get paid. He could pimp himself out and keep the cash...or he could hang himself and be done with it.

He stepped out of Cord's arms without a word and padded to the bathroom. He pushed the door closed, drained the last of the vodka and climbed in the shower. By the time he got out, he was numb. He wasn't sure how much was from the alcohol and how much was because his brain refused to process anything else, but it didn't matter as long as he didn't have to think.

He dressed while Cord gave him a final pep talk he didn't hear. Then he trudged out of the apartment and down the street to the Skytrain. He stood clinging to a metal pole in a mostly empty car and let the train carry him downtown, his body doing Cord's bidding while his brain took a vacation. So what else was new?

He rode to the end of the line at Waterfront station and followed the other passengers out of the depths of the building and onto the street. He wasn't sure why he was walking toward the hotel. He had no reason to follow Cord's instructions. He could get back on the train, ride out to the far end of the valley and start over somewhere Cord would never find him. The thought almost inspired a smile. As if Cord would actually look for him if he disappeared.

A doorman in uniform tugged open the heavy glass doors as he approached and he stepped into a grand expanse of lobby that was big enough to be its own metro station. He followed Cord's instructions and stopped at the lobby phone to place a call to the aging perverted investor. One didn't just march into the elevator at the Rosenthal and ride up to a guest's room. One needed to be escorted.

After a two-second conversation, he hung up the phone and cast glances around the lobby. He recognized the name of the hotel but couldn't remember why and decided it didn't matter. It was more important to figure out why he was going through with this in the first place. He might not have any idea where else to go but that didn't mean he had to follow Cord's depraved instructions. He was his own man, wasn't he?

Sure he was. That's why he did all the chores around the apartment while Cord played in his office. That's why he'd put up with doing videos twice a week every week for the past two years. That's why he was standing in that hotel waiting for a pervert to show up and take him upstairs to demonstrate what a good whore he was. He wasn't his own anything, least of all a man. He was a terrified kid too scared to do anything other than what he was told. In that moment, he loathed himself more than he ever had.

He'd go upstairs and perform for Cord's investor. Then he'd walk into the bathroom and hang himself. The guy would have to explain to the hotel manager why he had a dead naked kid in his room. As an added bonus, it would screw up Cord's deal and everybody would get exactly what they deserved.

He was still trying to talk himself into the plan when a tall, toned man in jeans and a t-shirt stepped out of the elevator. He recognized a cookie cutter when he saw one. He let the man look for him, waiting as he glanced around the lobby before finding him near the courtesy phone. The cookie cutter smiled and strode toward him.

"Angel, right?" The man said calling him by his porn name. "I'd know you anywhere. Come on up." He turned on his heel and motioned him toward the elevator walking back the way he'd come.

He followed him into a car that was just as ornate as the lobby and stuffed his trembling hands into his pockets. He hated this and he hated even more that he was going along with it. He switched from contemplating suicide to giving himself a pep talk as the elevator rose to the twenty-fourth floor and stopped.

"This is us," the cookie cutter said, and stepped into the hall.

He followed him past several doors, his footfalls silent on the padded carpet. Then the cookie cutter stopped and slid a cardkey into the reader on a door half way down the hall before pushing into the suite. It was almost twice the size of the apartment and he realized Cord had been right about that part. If this was the guy's hotel room he would have been disgusted by their modest little building. Not that it mattered. Regardless of the location, he'd still be fucking on command in front of a sick bastard. The only one getting a payoff was Cord.

He folded his arms across his chest as the suite door swung shut. Double doors stood open on the far side of the room revealing a king-size bed, his set for the evening.

"Want a beer?" The cookie cutter asked walking to the bar across the room like he owned the place.

"Got anything stronger?"

The man tugged the refrigerator open and pulled out a half-sized bottle of vodka.

"Perfect," Liam crossed the floor and took it from him.

He unscrewed the cap and emptied the bottle in four great gulps inspiring an instant ball of heat in his stomach.

"Is he here yet?" He glanced around a room that might have been impressive in a different situation.

"Who?"

"This Stark guy."

"Yes, he's here." The cookie cutter leaned against the bar drinking a beer.

"He's a fat, balding loser, isn't he?"

"Not exactly."

The vodka had eased his raging case of nerves, but wasn't doing anything to improve his attitude.

"When do we start?" He demanded.

"Whenever you want."

"Does he have a camera set up something?" He glanced around the room.

"No. He prefers a personal touch." The cookie cutter pushed away from the bar leaving the beer behind, and strode toward him. "He's very hands on you might say." The cookie cutter raked his gaze down his body from head to toe with a lustful and calculating leer.

He ignored it. They always leered at him at some point.

"Take off your clothes." The cookie cutter ordered.

"Not until he shows up."

The cookie cutter stepped closer and reached out to hold his chin. "I'm Stark you little idiot." He smiled. "Take off your clothes."

He jerked his face out of his minimal grasp and took a step back. "You're Mr. Stark?"

"That's what it says on my passport."

"Then where's the other guy?"

"What other guy?"

"The one I'm doing the scene with."

"You're doing it with me, sweetheart."

"What?" The news blasted through his vodka buzz until all that buzzed through him was anxiety.

"Cord didn't tell you that part?"

"He said I'm supposed to do a scene so you can watch."

"That's almost the truth. You're supposed to do a scene with me so I can see how well you fuck in person. You know, try out the merchandise before I buy it, and make sure what's on the website isn't just doctored up crap."

Stark took another step toward him, and he took a step back his mind racing. Either Cord had lied to him or Stark was. He had no idea which, but he didn't care at the moment. He could figure out whom to blame when he got himself out of this mess.

"Cord did tell you this was an audition, right?"

"Sort of."

"You're here to impress me, and that's not going to happen with your clothes on."

"I didn't agree to this." He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. You're here and you're going to fuck like a good little porn star, or Cord doesn't get his money. It's as simple as that."

He glanced at the door. Going back to Cord when the night was over wasn't anywhere in his tentative plans, so what did it matter whether he got his money? After that night there wouldn't be anything to invest in anyway. Whether Cord knew it or not his little production company was finished because his star had just resigned.

"If Cord wants the money he can fuck you himself." He took a step toward the door, and Stark lunged at him, grabbing him by the arm.

"There's no need to be melodramatic." Stark pulled him closer. "You do this all the time. I've seen it. This is just one more ride."

"Let go of me." He tried to jerk out of his grip, but it didn't get him anywhere.

Stark grabbed him by the back of the neck and crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss, the taste of beer exploding in his mouth when Stark forced his way in. Then the hands and lips left him at the same time.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was your first time." Stark shook his head and toed off his shoes. "Let me put this is terms you can understand." He grabbed him by the arm and yanked him stumbling across the room. "I'm going to fuck you. That's the end of the story. You can enjoy it or you can fight me, but one way or the other I have permission to take what I want and I damn well intend to. Now get your pretty little ass on the bed." Stark shoved him toward it.

He landed with his back to the mattress and his ass pressed against the edge, arms braced on the comforter, holding himself up.

"And if I say 'no'?" He could hear the tremble in his voice that matched the shuddering of his body.

"Makes no difference to me." Stark tugged the t-shirt out of his jeans and off over his head. "I'd much rather you enjoyed it, but I can work with it either way."

He didn't bother giving the chiseled chest any attention. He looked like every other guy who had ever fucked him. That thought struck him in a way nothing else had that night, and drained away most of his panic. Stark was just another guy. He'd been telling himself that all night, but for the first time they weren't just words. He looked like every other cookie cutter. He strutted around like every other cookie cutter. He was no different from anyone else who'd had sex with him in the last two years. That meant he was free to treat him the same way he treated all the others.

"Word of advice," Stark said unbuttoning his jeans. "When a man tells you to get your ass on the bed, you get your ass on the bed."

"Don't you mean 'john'?" He snapped.

He was always careful about what he said to Cord because he knew from experience he could only push a person who loved him so far before they stopped loving him, but this wasn't Cord. It was a sick bastard, and he couldn't care less what Stark thought of him.

The hand came out of nowhere, rocking his head to the side as it made stinging contact with his cheek. Maybe he wasn't like the others after all.

"I'm not a john." Stark gripped his face. "Those idiots pay for sex because they don't have the clout to get it for free. I don't have that problem."

"Then you can find someone else." He blinked away the tears, struggling with the rush of fear that pushed pleading words against the back of his teeth until he was ready to beg for what he knew Stark wouldn't do.

"No need. I already have an ass for the evening."

He'd tried begging Cord and it hadn't worked. He didn't expect it to work any better here. After all, Stark had already paid for the privilege of using him as a sex toy.

Stark picked him up and tossed him on the bed, grabbing his ankle when he tried to crawl back off. Still holding his leg, Stark crawled on the bed with him and straddled him where he lay, grabbing his hands and pressing them into the mattress. Stark tried to kiss him. He turned his head and got another slap for his effort, his ears ringing for an instant.

When Stark kissed him again he didn't fight it. He didn't see the point. He could keep being difficult for the sake of being difficult, or he could let Stark have what he wanted and be done with it. He floated away just far enough to gain some perspective on the horrific scene and considered his options.

Cord's part in selling him like an old car was unforgivable, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the man stripping off his clothes. He'd been through this hundreds of times. The change of scenery didn't matter. It was just another shoot with just another rented cock.

He watched from a distance as Stark ran a hand down what used to be his body, eyes traveling his skin.

"You are a little thing, aren't you? I'd always thought that was a lighting trick or something but you really are just a kid."

He didn't bother to correct him, as the idea that Stark didn't seem to mind having sex with a helpless kid swirled through his mind. This was the guy Cord gave permission to fuck him unsupervised? Either Cord was a fool or he didn't intend to take him back when the night was over, regardless of how that particular scene turned out. He tried to think up an excuse that made Cord less of a heartless bastard, but he couldn't find one. The realization hurt more than the slap had.

Stark kissed random places on the body's stomach and stretched out beside him still wearing his jeans.

"Cord said you're used to doing just about anything," Stark commented with his head propped up in one hand. "Is that right?" He ran a hand down the body's stomach and fondled its cock.

He didn't answer. Nobody would have heard him if he had. There wasn't a brain in that body anymore. It was just a cold side of beef.

"Turn over."

He watched the body roll itself over on command the way it always did, lying still as Stark caressed a path down its back to its ass. Stark crawled down to its knees and pulled its legs apart. He held its cheeks open before sucking his finger for a brief moment and then shoving it inside.

"You're small aren't you? At least you look like it, but I've seen what you can take. It might be tight to start, but once you get used to the size you'll love it. I fucked a girl here just last night and she couldn't get enough. I did everything to that bitch and she loved it. You should have heard her."

He'd put up with hundreds of porn stars, and he'd never heard a guy brag as much as this poser did. Of course, he'd never listened to a word they'd said, so maybe they had.

He watched Stark unzip his own jeans and step into the body's line of sight. He wasn't shocked to see he'd gone commando for the occasion. Floating above the scene, Liam grinned at the already hard cock that was average at best. Stark wrapped a hand around it and stroked, watching the body for a reaction he didn't get. Even if someone had been home, all he would have heard was snickering.

He was about as big as Cord, and Cord wasn't that big when compared to the long meaty things the porn stars sported. This delusional bastard would have been laughed out of the talent agent's office with that pitiful thing he dangled between his thighs.

He watched Stark climb back on the bed and settle between the body's legs, ready to get down to business without wasting time on foreplay. That was his cue to drift away to the beach. He settled on warm sand, listening to the birds and the waves and turned the situation over from a distance while Stark raped the body on the bed.

Maybe he'd stay on the beach this time. There was no one to call "cut" on this particular scene, and without the keyword, he saw no reason to come back to reality. His relationship was over. His life was over. All he had to look forward to was hanging himself in the bathroom. He'd be better off never coming back.

Chapter 19

Justin reached around the server who held a tray of food and knocked on the door. So far, Gerry had proven to be just as high maintenance as they'd expected. Every room service order came with a list of preparation instructions followed by a list of complaints. Housekeeping reported that his room looked like a hurricane had struck every morning, and every afternoon they received a call that it hadn't been cleaned to his satisfaction. The rumblings from Liz about vomit in the sink and feces in the shower made his complaints that his sheets weren't white enough even more ridiculous, but this was the Rosenthal. They did their best to accommodate him, and secretly counted down the hours until he walked back out the door. Liz said she planned to let her staff toast his departure with champagne the day he left. He wasn't sure she was kidding.

As an added measure, they'd decided to have managers accompany every trip to that particular suite. Justin wasn't typically in charge of room service orders but the kitchen's manager was tied up with more important things. He was available so for the next few minutes he would be the one absorbing the criticism and making sure the server didn't take the brunt of Gerry's attitude.

The door opened and their high maintenance guest appeared wrapped in a hotel robe.

"Great. I'm starving," Gerry said and stepped aside to let them in.

"I double checked the order to make sure it's to your specifications. A porterhouse cooked medium rare, no butter on the green beans, no arugula in the salad, light dressing on the side," Justin said as the server put the tray down on the bar without a word.

Gerry lifted the cover from each plate and inspected it. Then he picked up the silverware and cut into the steak.

"This looks fine," he said with grudging approval.

"Is there anything else I can do for you while I'm here?" He cast a glance around the suite and for an instant, his gaze stuck on the rumpled bed in the other room, specifically the person standing beside it tugging on a shirt.

Shock didn't quite cover the feeling that rolled through him before it blossomed to a mangled combination of concern and anger. There were very few explanations for Liam standing half-naked in the adjoining room. He didn't believe he'd gotten over his reluctance to move on from Cord that quickly when Gerry qualified as just another stranger. He didn't believe Gerry was the type to offer to take him in either.

It could have been a one-night fling, but Liam wasn't the type. He wanted stability over sex. Besides, how would a kid from a broken down apartment across town hook up with Gerry? Where was the connection? He was afraid he knew and it folded his stomach into a knot.

He yanked his gaze somewhere else hoping to get out of the room before Liam realized he was there. He'd rather pretend to bump into him in the lobby on the way out than humiliate him with the knowledge that he knew all about what had happened in that room moments ago.

"Yes, there is," Gerry said. "You can escort this kid back downstairs. I'm finished with him," he announced tossing Liam a brief glance.

So much for that idea. He tried not to scowl at the tone and the wording, as if Liam was nothing more than a dirty plate.

"I'll see him out."

Gerry stabbed at the salad and took a bite, focusing his attention on the tray of food. "You ready to go?" He called around a mouthful of lettuce, his back to the bedroom.

"Yeah," came the quiet reply.

He watched Liam trudge out of the room with his hair mussed, clothes slightly rumpled and eyes on the floor. Liam's steps faltered for an instant when he glanced up and their eyes met across the room. Then they went right back to the floor. In that moment, he saw the haunted depression. He also saw the bruise on his cheek.

"Tell Cord I'll be in touch," Gerry told his tray of food and Liam nodded.

The name turned the acid in his stomach up to full boil, and it took everything he had not to march across the room and stab Gerry with his own fork.

"Let me know if you need anything else," he tried not to snap and failed as he ushered Liam and the server toward the door.

"Don't worry I will," Gerry tossed after him.

They stepped into the hall and he let the door slide closed when what he wanted to do was slam it. He sent the server back to the service elevator, but when Liam took a step in the same direction, he pulled him to a stop by the arm. He was pale and vibrating with a fine tremor.

"Are you ok?" He kept his voice low, scraping the edge from his tone.

He was pissed, but not at Liam.

"Yeah," Liam mumbled.

He rested fingers under the chin of the kid who had always inspired his heart to do a happy little dance, and lifted it until Liam met his gaze. His heart wasn't dancing this time. It ached at the misery in shimmering blue eyes and the thought of what had really happened in that room.

"Come on."

He took Liam's hand and led him down the hall and through the non-descript door to the service elevator. They rode down to the atrium level in silence, Liam clinging to his hand, shuddering and sniffling as they walked the back halls. It turned to sobbing the moment he closed them in his office.

He wrapped Liam in his arms and held him, unconcerned by the tears landing on his pressed and starched shirt. He had others. He slid fingers into short dark hair and held Liam's head to his chest until the sobbing returned to sniffles. Then he dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him, letting Liam slip from his arms to blow his nose.

"What happened?" He asked and Liam shook his head. "Did he hurt you?"

There was an uglier word rolling across his tongue. When Liam shook his head again he reached out and held his chin in a light grip, turning it to get a better look at the bruise on his cheek. Their eyes met and for a moment, Liam stared back at him.

"Are you sure?" He let go of Liam's chin when he dropped his gaze to the carpet. "Was it rape?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean? Did he drug you?"

"No." Liam bit his lower lip to stop his chin from quivering. "He rented me."

"He what?"

"He said Cord told him he could do whatever he wanted, because Cord wants him to be an investor in the business."

A wave of anger should have poured out with the words, but they came out in the same quiet tone as everything else, a mere statement of fact.

Questions tumbled through his head about why Liam had gone along with such a thing, but accusing Liam wasn't going to help. He wasn't the one responsible for the deal brokered between two slime balls.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice the gentle caress he wanted to give Liam's face.

"Cord told me I was supposed to come here and do a porn scene with another guy so Gerry could watch it in person. Gerry said that wasn't the deal. He said he had permission to do whatever he wanted because he'd paid for it."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I tried. He wouldn't let me."

"Is that how you got the bruise?"

"No." Liam ghosted fingers across his cheek, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. "He did that when I wouldn't play along."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Liam shrugged. He took that as a "yes".

"We should probably get you to a hospital."

"It's not that bad."

"Are you sure?"

Liam's face twitched into a miserable scowl and tears slid down his face. "I don't know what to do," he croaked.

"We'll let a doctor check you out."

"Not that," he shook his head. "I was going to leave tonight. I was going to walk away and never come back, but I don't have anywhere to go. How could he do this to me? How could he say he loves me and then sell me to a sick fuck he's never even met?" Liam sobbed.

He wrapped arms back around him and held him close. "That's not love. That's self-serving bullshit. You don't use people you care about to build your career."

"He sold me like I'm some kid turning tricks on the street," Liam gasped.

"I know." He held Liam's head to his chest. "I'm sorry."

"He'll do it again. I can't go back to him."

"We'll figure something out," he assured him. "First we need to call the police and press charges against both of them."

"No." Liam's head came up. "I want to just forget it happened."

"He raped you, Liam."

"He'll say he didn't."

"The bruise and whatever else he did to you will say otherwise."

"Cord will lie for him. It's obvious he wants the money more than he wants me."

He caressed Liam's undamaged cheek with the back of his fingers as he looked into miserable, desperate eyes.

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do, but both of them belong behind bars. If nothing else they can charge Cord with prostitution."

"I don't want a police record that says I'm a whore. It's bad enough that it's all over the fucking internet in those videos."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. If it's what you want."

He stood in silence for a long moment and held him while he considered their options. The last thing he wanted to do was take Liam back to the apartment and have him right across the hall from the bastard who'd pimped him out to the highest bidder. That left only one solution and it was temporary at best.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? We'll figure out what do to about this mess once you have a chance to get some rest."

"I can't afford it." Liam lifted his head again and wiped at his face.

"Don't worry about that. After what you've been through it's on the house." he thumbed tears from his skin. "I'll make it a room with a whirlpool so you can soak for a while. What do you say?" He offered a smile.

Liam twitched a ghost of one back. "You don't have to do this."

"No, but I want to."

Liam stared back at him for a moment. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend and this is what you do for your friends, right?"

Liam gave him an uncertain nod.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

He slipped out of his office and strode through the back halls and down the stairs to the front desk doing his best to hide a murderous glare. He reserved a room several floors below the smug, despicable bastard who had committed rape in their hotel, tossing glances at the phone as he typed. He wasn't going to force Liam to press charges, but he would have loved to call the police and have them publicly drag Gerry in for questioning in front of his now emaciated gathering of adoring fans. They could take a good look at the bastard they worshiped and see him for what he really was.

He pushed the idea aside. It was a nice thought, but he doubted it would work. With Gerry's over-inflated sense of entitlement, he doubted Liam was his first victim. He probably left a collection of them everywhere he went and the fans followed him anyway. As for Cord, money and the threat of jail time would keep him quiet. That and a total lack of concern for the kid he claimed to love. Liam was right. They'd close ranks and claim it had been consensual.

Anger bubbled inside as he imprinted a passkey and headed back to his office to get Liam. They took the employee elevator back upstairs and he let Liam into a room on the twentieth floor.

"The bathroom's over here and there's a whirlpool tub so feel free to use it." He ducked inside the tiled room and turned on the light. "Take anything you want from the mini bar or feel free to order room service. It's on the house."

"You don't have to do this," Liam repeated looking uncertain and scared where he stood near the couch, arms folded across his chest.

"I want to. Someone needs to be good to you...and it looks like I'm your guy."

Liam scowled at him for a long moment. Then he unfolded his arms and reached out to wrap them around Justin's neck pulling him close. Soft, warm lips pressed to his and a thrilled flurry of attraction poured over him. That kiss was the stuff of countless fantasies, and a couple of weeks ago he might have been willing to stand there and enjoy it, but not that night. He had a new boyfriend to consider, and Liam wasn't thinking straight...or maybe he was and that was his way of repaying the kindness.

He took Liam's face in his hands and gently pried him from his mouth, concerned blue eyes roaming his face.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." His expression was eager and hopeful.

He smiled back at him caressing his face with his thumbs. "To be honest so do I, but after what happened I think you need some time to figure things out."

"I want you."

He gave a quiet sigh at words he'd imagined in moments alone in the dark. "You don't owe me anything for this. I'm not doing it to take advantage of you. That's Cord's thing, not mine."

Eager hope blinked back to uncertainty.

"I think what you really need is a good night's rest."

"And then what?"

"And then tomorrow we figure out where you go from here."

"There's nowhere for me to go other than back to Cord." Liam wandered toward the couch and then away again as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to go. "You should have left me there."

"Why?"

"I was going to leave a present in the bathroom that would have guaranteed Gerry paid for what he did." Liam mumbled to the floor.

"What kind of present?"

Liam shook his head, arms folded across his chest. Something in his body language said he wasn't talking about a steaming pile in the shower. He stepped to him and rested a hand against his head, stroking his hair and following a path to his shoulder before wrapping arms around him one more time.

"We'll think of something better than that." He kissed the top of his head. "That's not the only option."

"It's the only one I can stand."

"Give me some time, ok? There's another choice and I'll find it, I promise."

"What if I don't want to see it?"

"I know it's a lot to ask right now, but please give me a chance. I'd never forgive myself if it ended like that."

Liam's head came up and he looked at him with calculating confusion.

"Please?"

He got a small nod in return and kissed Liam's eyebrow. "Thank you. Solving problems is my job, remember? I'll think of something."

More nodding.

"Will you be ok here by yourself?"

"I guess," Liam mumbled.

He slid from Liam's arms. "Here's my number if you need anything." He stepped to the desk and scribbled his cell number on the pad by the phone. "It doesn't have to be an emergency. Call me if you just want to talk or something, ok?"

Liam nodded.

"Try to get some sleep." He left the passkey on the desk and stepped back into the hall.

He hesitated outside the door with his hand pressed to the wood wondering if he should leave Liam alone. His whole world had come apart in the last few hours, and he needed more than an empty room and warm tub, but the idea of spending the night with him didn't sit right. He didn't want to have to keep rejecting passes, making Liam feel worse by degrees. Liam would take a bath and wander out of the bathroom in nothing but a robe, and it would be too easy for things to spin out of control from there.

Leaving him alone might not be a great idea, but spending the night was a worse one. He strode down the hall toward the elevator. He had a phone call to make and a miraculous solution to pull out of his ass.

Chapter 20

Justin plucked his cell phone from its holster and hit speed dial as he checked his watch. It was late but maybe not too late.

"Dennis Lees' office."

"Hi, it's Justin. Is he still in?"

"He's just walking out the door."

"I need to see him."

"Can it wait?"

"Maybe, but I doubt he'll want it to."

There was a pause and the muffled sound of something covering the phone. "Come on up."

"Thank you."

He didn't bother to mention that he was already in the employee elevator on his way to the thirtieth floor. He smoothed hands down the front of his shirt and tugged at his pants while the elevator slowed and stopped. The doors slid open and he stepped out, striding quickly down the hall.

He pushed open the door marked "private" and stepped into a large office that was once a suite. It might have seemed an odd place for it, tucked between some of their most opulent rooms and one floor down from their multi-million dollar penthouses, but half of Mr. Lees' job was watching over the VIPs upstairs. He might as well be close to them. That and the manager deserved an office with a view, considering the chaos and drama that came with the job.

He wasn't surprised to see Mr. Lees standing in the outer office when he arrived to inject a little more of both. He was on the portly side of trim and wore a suit that always looked freshly pressed, his neatly combed brown hair going gray in places and eyes so dark they were almost black.

Mr. Lees' face twitched into a scowl when he saw him. "I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, am I?"

"No."

"Come on in," he sighed, and trudged back into his office.

The corporate office insisted on the use of formal names with the managers, but their relationship was a lot less starched than it sounded. He followed Mr. Lees inside and closed the door.

"I don't think there's a way to ease into this story, so I'm just going to say it."

"Be my guest." Mr. Lees sat on the edge of his desk.

"Our high maintenance guest crossed the line from aggravating to criminal a few hours ago."

Mr. Lees' scowl burrowed a little deeper. "How bad?"

"Bad."

"What did he do?"

He wasn't surprised Mr. Lees didn't ask which guest.

"He raped someone in his suite."

The eyebrows slid up his forehead. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

Mr. Lees got up from his desk and paced a small circle, hands balled into fists before turning back to him. "Was it an employee?"

"No."

He scrubbed at the back of his neck, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Of all the stupid shit...I suppose he expects us to cover for him."

"I don't think so. It's a complicated situation."

"Complicated how?"

He gave him an abbreviated version of the transaction that had Cord trading Liam for cash.

"So it was a male prostitute?"

"No," he shook his head. "Gerry will claim it was, and so will the guy who sold this kid to him like a party favor, but the victim had no knowledge of what was going to happen. He tried to leave. Gerry wouldn't let him. He has the bruises to prove it wasn't consensual."

"This is just fucking great," Mr. Lees said in a quiet growl.

"I spoke to the victim and he doesn't want to press charges. Considering the way these two plotted behind his back, he doesn't think they'd back up his story, and he's probably right."

"Oh I have no doubt."

"As much as I hate to say it, Gerry's going to get away with it."

"Why am I not surprised by that?" Mr. Lees said followed by a heavy sigh. "What are your recommendations from here?"

"I'd prefer to turn him over to the police, but since we can't do that, I think we at least need to get Gerry out of the hotel before he does this again. The next one might not be so easy to contain."

"Agreed," Mr. Lees nodded. "I'm starting to see why he leaked his itinerary. For all we know this is a hobby."

He twitched a smile void of humor. "I checked the victim into a suite down on twenty under my name. He has nowhere to go, and he's not in any shape to take care of himself right now."

"Which suite?"

He gave him the number.

"I'll comp the charges. You shouldn't have to pay for this."

"Thank you."

"Do we need to take him to the hospital?"

"He says 'no'."

"I hope he's right."

"So do I."

"Anything else I need to be aware of?"

"No. I'll take care of the victim, but I think Gerry is a bit out of my purview."

"I appreciate your attitude, but you don't have to take this on as a personal project. I can handle it from here."

"It sort of is a personal project." He shrugged.

Mr. Lees blinked at him. "You know the victim?"

"Yes."

"Does Mr. Stark know that?"

"No."

Mr. Lees nodded. "I'll give you credit for not beating the shit out of him."

"The thought crossed my mind."

"Is your friend settled for the night?"

"Yes."

"Good," Mr. Lees strode across the room and tugged open the door. "Then you and I are going to take a trip downstairs to have a word with our guest."

He raised eyebrows at the announcement but didn't argue. They strode through his outer office and into the hall riding down several floors in silence before emerging on the twenty-fourth floor.

Mr. Lees knocked on Gerry's door with the sharp crack of a ring hitting wood. The door swung open a moment later and Gerry scowled from him to Mr. Lees and back again.

"What's this?"

"May we have a moment of your time, Mr. Stark?" Mr. Lees asked.

"What are you, Mormons?"

"We're here to discuss a matter much more pressing than your choice in religion...one I'm sure you don't want broadcast to the rest of the floor, so if you don't mind." Mr. Lees motioned toward the room.

"Fine." Gerry stepped aside and let them in.

"My name is Mr. Lees. I'm manager of the Rosenthal."

Gerry smiled. "So you guys are finally showing me some respect. It took long enough."

"We're not here about your petulant behavior toward the cleaning staff or room service attendants." The smile disappeared. "This goes far beyond your childish whining."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gerry snapped.

"It's come to my attention that you committed a serious crime in this suite tonight, and I am here for an explanation."

"What are you talking about?" Gerry repeated.

"I'm talking about rape, Mr. Stark."

Gerry's eyes flicked to Justin where he stood a few steps from Mr. Lees, arms folded across his chest. "Is that what you told him?"

"There's no point playing games," Mr. Lees said. "There is physical evidence that you did indeed abuse someone tonight...in my hotel."

"So I'm into rough sex. So what? That doesn't make it rape."

"You're missing the point. I'm not here to get your side of the story. I'm here to inform you that our leniency with your behavior has expired."

"Meaning?" Gerry demanded, folding his arms across his chest and planting his feet wide in a stance that radiated smug condescension.

"Meaning I'm finished with your frat house behavior. One more complaint from you or about you, and you will be out on your ass. Is that clear?"

"So I'll find another hotel. So what?"

"On this short notice, in this city, on this particular weekend? I wish you luck."

"You can't bully me, Mr. Manager. I have friends in this city. I can have your pathetic excuse for a hotel blackballed like that." Gerry snapped his fingers.

"Let's skip the empty threats, shall we? I know exactly how many friends you have in this city, Mr. Stark, and you couldn't get a roach-infested one-star blackballed if you posted video of it online."

Gerry's scowl burrowed a little deeper.

"You will keep your nose clean and your mouth shut for the remainder of your stay, or I will contact the police on behalf of this hotel and file charges for tonight's escapade. Do I make myself, clear?"

"So I hired a whore. So what?"

"I doubt your reputation would weather a rape accusation very well...would it, Mr. Stark? This is a serious matter and I intend to treat it as such even if you do not."

Gerry glared back at him.

"I'm glad we understand each other, because the next time you see me outside your door it will be with officers ready to cart you out in a shiny pair of handcuffs, right through our expansive lobby in the middle of afternoon tea."

"Get out of my suite," Gerry growled.

"Manners, Mr. Stark," Mr. Lees warned striding to the door, "and I suggest you keep in mind that this is my suite, not yours. You are here as a guest and that invitation can be easily rescinded." Mr. Lees tugged the door open and then closed it again before turning back to give Gerry one last glare. "If you learn nothing else from this experience I hope it's that just because you can pay for a five-star hotel doesn't mean you belong in one."

With that, Mr. Lees tugged open the door and marched outside. Justin followed him out, cringing when Gerry slammed the door shut.

"White trash shithead," Mr. Lees grumbled as they headed back to the elevator.

"Think he'll behave himself?" He asked once they were in the elevator.

"Not a chance. He has too much ego and not nearly enough intelligence to see he just caught a break. I expect he'll trash the room tonight in retaliation, and will be out of here by check out time tomorrow. I'll take care of it, myself. There's no need for you to devote any more time to this. We have five hundred forty three other guests that need your attention."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, my boy." Mr. Lees patted him on the back. "You handled this very well. It could have been a much bigger mess."

"Pure chance," He shook his head. "I happened to be in the right place at the right time."

He didn't dwell on the unpleasant thought of what might have happened had Liam been left to carry out his plan.

"If it had been my friend I would have been tempted to bash his head in with a chair before I reported it."

"I considered it." He admitted as the elevator doors opened.

"Have a good night," Mr. Lees offered as he stepped out, "if you can."

"Thank you."

Chapter 21

Justin had planned to go home that night, but he didn't trust himself to be in the same building with Cord and not beat him with his own video camera. Instead, he went to Rich's place. He was a churning mass of emotion when he reached the townhouse that night. Angry, disgusted, and a little turned on by the memory of a tender kiss, he hit Rich like a summer storm the moment the front door closed.

Kissing, licking, and nipping here and there, he forced Rich to wrestle for control as he burrowed into his clothes. He was in the mood to be dominated, but Rich couldn't just hold him down and take him. He wasn't into that yet, so they improvised. Rich held his hands to the carpet and rode him on the living room floor the only way he could. It wasn't the same but it burned off a little energy, and that would have to do.

"Wow." Rich panted as he crawled off his lap and rolled onto his back. "That was the most fun I've had in a long time. Are you ok?"

"Fine." He panted back.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Rich asked.

"Just a very long, aggravating day."

Rich rolled back to him and propped his head up in one hand. "Want to talk about it?"

"I can't without getting into details. Let's just say we have a guest that crossed the line from pain in the ass to a real problem, and now I have to figure out what to do about it."

Rich caressed a path down his chest, his hand coming to rest on his belly before leaning close to kiss sweaty skin.

"That sounds frustrating," Rich said.

"Very."

"Can I help?"

"I'm pretty sure you just did." He smiled, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of Rich's neck and pull him closer.

They settled into a kiss that was much less punishing, Rich sliding closer to settle between his legs and press him into the floor. Then Rich left his lips to kiss his eyebrow.

"Turn over," Rich mumbled to his skin and crawled off him.

He did, curiosity tangling in frustration as he lay with is head pillowed in his arms. Rich kissed his way down his body and nudged his legs apart. He let him move them where he wanted, and Rich lavished special attention on a place he didn't visit often.

"You know what you need?" Rich asked holding him open and kissing one cheek.

"What?" He asked a little breathless.

"Someone to give you a good hard fuck."

"I think you're right." He rolled to one side to look back at him. "Are you offering?"

"Considering is more like it." Rich got to his feet and tugged him off the floor. "But if we're going to do this there's no need to make it on the living room floor."

"No." He stood. "But the bed might be a bit too civilized."

"I agree." Rich took his hand and led him upstairs.

They ended up in the bathroom against the counter. Rich took his time warming him up, uncertainty scrawled across his face.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know." Rich kissed his shoulder and pressed close to him, wrapping an arm around his middle. "But I've been thinking about it since the first time I touched you."

"Far be it from me to ruin a perfectly good fantasy."

Rich grinned and slopped kisses along his neck to his ear as a thick, hard cock pressed against his ass. It had been a while since anyone had fucked him, longer than he cared to admit, and the sting of being pulled wide was exquisite. It wasn't a perfect moment when Rich finally settled inside him but it was close.

"Holy fuck," he gasped to the counter.

"Too much?" Rich stopped moving.

"Just right." He shook his head, fingers digging into the counter. "I knew you'd feel this good the first time I had you in my hands."

Rich wandered his body with lips and hands, moving in him with timid strokes. It was nice but he didn't want nice.

"Harder." He commanded.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Rich held him tighter and lunged into him with long, firm strokes, shoving him toward a climax one thrust at a time. They gasped to each other, sounds of pleasure filling the room. Rich tugged him back from the counter to change the position and dove into him slapping fast and hard against his ass moaning his way to a howled climax that took him by surprise. He laughed at the sound despite being a few yards from one of his own.

"So that's how I finally get you to make noise."

"Apparently." Rich kissed his back. "That was amazing."

"Almost."

"Give me a minute. I'll get you there." Rich went back to firm deep strokes. "I can tie you up if you want." Rich mumbled to his shoulder. "You can be my prisoner for the night while I fuck the frustration out of you."

He smiled at the words punctuated by thrusts.

"Just like this. I'll ride your perfect ass until you beg me to stop."

"I have no doubt," he panted.

"So?"

"So finish this and we'll talk."

Rich moved for another few strokes and then pulled out.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Part of the game." Rich smiled at him in the mirror. "If you want torment I can do torment." The smile turned to a wicked leer. "I can make you beg. I can make you scream...the good kind of scream."

A bolt of anticipation shot through him at the idea. He wasn't sure how far he wanted to take that particular game, but he wasn't opposed to spending several hours thinking about something other than work and Liam. Slow tender sex wasn't going to do it.

"No slapping and no marks, and you've got a deal."

"Got it." Rich gave his ass a squeeze and strode out of the room and into the closet.

He emerged with a handful of ties.

"Hands or feet?"

"Hands." He climbed on the bed.

Rich tied him to the headboard with as much slack as he could manage.

"That's a good way to ruin your ties."

"You're worth it." Rich climbed on the bed with him and tied the last one around his head covering his eyes.

He felt Rich move him into a new position and settle between his legs. Lips pressed to his for a brief moment before Rich slid back into him. The sensation was stronger with his eyes covered, and he felt each powerful stroke with a new intensity. He drifted in the feel of Rich pressed against him, moving inside him, content to be taken however Rich wanted to do it. For a moment, he wondered if that's what it was like for Liam, though with a lot less pleasure since the cock invading him was never by choice.

"Can you take off the blindfold?"

"Sure." Rich stopped and did as he asked. "Too much?"

"Too easy to think about other things. I want to see you."

Rich smiled and settled back where he'd been. Despite his tied hands, they never stuck with one position for long. Every time he got close Rich stopped, moved him, and then started again. When Rich finally let him come it was just as he'd predicted, writhing in the firm grip of hands on his hips and howling it to the bed. Rich held him there long enough to groan his own release and then everything stopped as they melted into the sheets.

Rich untied his wrists and they lay sprawled on the mattress, panting at the ceiling, head to foot.

"Are you ok?" Rich kissed his ankle.

"I'm great, though I could use a break."

"Too hard?" Rich's head came up.

"No. It was perfect."

"Good." Rich nodded to himself and lay back down for a moment to regroup.

The bed shuddered as Rich crawled up to him and wrapped arms around him, holding him close. He wasn't going to ask when Rich had developed a talent for bondage. He was pretty sure he knew the answer. He kissed Rich's chest and pushed him onto his back before straddling him and settling at his mouth. Gentle hands caressed places they'd held in an iron grip moments before.

"Will you stay?" Rich mumbled to his hair when he rested his head on his chest.

"What?" That brought his head back up to find uncertain brown eyes staring back at him.

"Tonight. Will you stay?"

"I have work tomorrow."

"I know."

"That means at some point we're going to have to sleep."

"I know." Rich smiled. "I promise to keep my dick to myself long enough to let you do that. I just don't want you to leave," he said. "I want to know what it's like to have you in my arms all night." Rich stretched up to give him a brief kiss. "And how it feels to wake up with you still in my bed."

Logically it made sense. He was exhausted after too little sleep last night and a demanding day at work. He was already in a bed. He might as well sleep in it. Besides, it would keep him away from Cord. However, there was a lot more to the request than just borrowing a bed for the night.

Their sexual relationship was less than a week old. That was way too soon to be making requests to spend the night together. If they kept moving that fast Rich was going to ask him to move in by the end of next week. It was startling and a little scary. He crawled off Rich and sat beside him on the bed.

"What?" Rich slid onto his elbows.

"That's a big step, isn't it?"

Rich sat up with him. "It doesn't have to be. You said yourself you're exhausted. It makes more sense to stay here than make another late night trip across town."

"You don't think it's moving too fast?"

"Because I want to wake up with you and fuck you in the kitchen over breakfast? No, not really."

He twitched a smile. "Is that what it's about? You want to put your morning wood to good use."

Rich leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "It's about wanting to spend time with you. I like you. I enjoy being with you. I want more of that. That's all."

It was a sudden and odd change for a guy who had put him off for two weeks. Apparently, the moving slow phase was over.

"What happened to wanting to look before you leap?"

"I have. I know enough about you to know you're not a self-absorbed bastard who will take things for granted. That's all I was after."

"Says who?"

Rich smiled. "Says you. Your job is all about taking care of people, and outside of work you're sweet, patient and gentle. That's what I wanted to know."

"You could have asked me."

"Most selfish bastards won't admit they're selfish bastards especially not when they're trying to lure you in with a good impression."

"Is that what I was doing?" He smiled. "Luring you in?"

"A little." Rich grinned. "I want to spend time with you, Justin. I want to know more about you than your favorite food and how hot you look when you've just been fucked."

He laughed.

"I'm not proposing marriage." Rich turned serious. "I just want you in my arms for a while, and I'm pretty sure you'll fall asleep before I'm ready to let you go, so asking you to stay makes sense." Rich rested a hand against his face. "You look tired. Hot but tired."

"A little." He nodded.

"Then stay."

They weren't serious enough to share toothpaste and shampoo yet, but Rich had a point. He was exhausted and it was as good a time as any to see how well they did sharing the same space for more than a couple of hours.

"I didn't bring a toothbrush."

"I have an extra one."

"Or a brush."

"You can use mine." Rich settled back on the mattress and held out a hand. "Come here."

He stretched out beside him and let Rich wrap arms around him, holding him close. Rich tugged the covers over them and turned out the light before kissing his head. He lay blinking in the dark with Rich caressing a short path back and forth across his hip. It didn't last long. He fell asleep still trying to decide if it was a wise decision.

Chapter 22

Justin woke in the dark with an arm draped across his stomach, Rich pressed close beside him. He tried to slide from the bed without waking him, but it didn't work.

"You ok?" Rich croaked in the dark.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep." He crept across the moonlit room and down the stairs to find his discarded pants and the cell phone tucked inside.

He couldn't shake the idea that leaving Liam alone had been a mistake. The fear that it would turn out to be a tragic one kept invading his dreams. He turned on lights as he went and found his pants tossed on the living room floor.

"Everything ok?" Rich appeared on the upstairs landing.

"Yeah. I just need to check on something."

He would have preferred to send Liam a text because he didn't want to wake him if he was asleep, but he didn't have his cell number. His only choice was to call the room and hope he answered. If he didn't, there was a panicked dash back to the hotel in his future.

He stood naked in the living room and dialed the number for the suite, pacing a small circle as it rang once, twice, three times.

"Hello?" A little of the tension knotting his stomach unwound.

Liam sounded just as depressed as he had been, but at least he was still alive.

"It's Justin. Did I wake you?"

"No."

"I just wanted to make sure everything's ok."

"It's fine." He heard the shrug.

"Did you get anything to eat?"

"A little."

"Good." He chewed his lip for a moment trying to decide whether he had the right to pry. "How are you feeling?"

There was a pause. "Scared."

"He doesn't know you're still in the hotel. You're safe there."

"What about the rest of it?"

"I'll come up with something. Don't worry."

"What do you think Cord's going to do?"

"It doesn't matter. Cord can go fuck himself."

There was silence on the other end.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

He smiled. "I just wanted to make sure you're ok. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll see you later."

"Ok. Thanks, Justin. Really."

"You're welcome. Good night."

"Night."

He ended the call and stood for a moment scowling at the carpet while a cluster of thoughts swirled through his head, picking up where they'd left off last night. He wasn't any closer to an answer than he'd been hours ago and a hurt, terrified kid across town was counting on him.

"Is that why you didn't want to stay?" Rich asked.

He snapped his gaze to Rich. He'd forgotten he was in the room. Rich stood a respectful distance away wrapped in a robe looking rumpled and tired.

"No. That's actually one of the reasons I did. Going home would have been a bad idea tonight."

"Then I'm glad I could help."

"Me, too." He smiled.

"Can I ask?" Rich waggled a finger at the cell phone in his hand.

"Fallout from the guest that's become a problem."

"Sounds like someone else got caught up in it."

He nodded. "Someone who's too worried about making things worse to do what needs to be done."

"That sounds bad."

"It is."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I promised him an alternative to suicide by sunrise, and I'm not having a lot of luck with it."

The eyebrows slid up Rich's forehead. "That's a tall order."

"Very."

"Can I offer a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Why don't we go back to bed, or at least get you a robe before you freeze that incredible ass off?"

He nodded, rubbing at the gooseflesh on his arm, a minor annoyance he'd been content to ignore.

"Come on." Rich headed for the stairs and motioned him to follow.

He padded after him with his phone in hand, turning off lights as he went.

"I can make some coffee if you want." Rich offered when he reached the bedroom.

"That's ok. There's no point in both of us staying up."

Rich untied the belt around his waist and shrugged out of his robe before climbing back under the covers. He decided to do the same, and Rich snuggled up to him holding him close.

"Can I help?"

"Actually, I think you can. I need a quick if temporary solution, and the only one I can think of has some major flaws. For instance, asking you to be ok with me taking on a roommate."

"A guy?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"A neighbor at my apartment who is suddenly without a place to go."

"The suicide case?"

"Yes."

"Is he hot?" Rich burrowed his nose into his hair and kissed a spot behind his ear.

"Closer to adorable but he's also a kid, and pretty messed up right now. The last thing he needs is to take up sex as a hobby."

"Meaning you plan to keep your hands off him?" Rich kissed a trail down his neck.

"Yes...for his own good."

"Is he going to be ok with that?" Rich drifted a hand down his body to caress his thigh.

"Which part?"

"Living with you."

"I hope so."

"What about the not fucking part?" Rich wandered the back of his neck with lips and tongue.

"He won't mind, trust me."

"Sounds like your problem's solved."

"Hopefully...at least for the time being," he breathed, the topic floating out of reach a little at a time. "It's not a long-term solution, but it should buy me enough time to come up with something better."

"Buying time is good." Rich pushed him onto his stomach and kissed a wandering trail along his back, hands caressing as he went.

It wasn't a mystery where he was headed as he scooted down the bed, drifting along his body. He didn't complain when Rich stopped talking to use his tongue for something better, inspiring him to crush his pillow in his hands, gasping to the bed.

Rich pushed his legs apart to invade him with a finger. Then he nudged him to his knees and invaded him with something bigger, sinking deep and pulling him wide. They moved together with Rich wrapped around him, taking his time with it. It was tender and sweet. At least until Rich decided he'd had enough of tender and sweet and it turned to forceful pounding shoving him to a gasping climax in three lunges.

Rich found his mouth and kissed him back down where he'd collapsed on the bed.

"I owe you a good hard fuck as soon as I get some sleep," Justin said.

Rich snuggled into him, holding him close. "Don't worry about it. I was supposed to let you sleep tonight and I just went back on my word. I couldn't help it. That ass gets to me."

He smiled. "I have the same problem."

Rich turned off the bedside lamp plunging their playground into darkness. "Goodnight." Rich kissed his head.

"Night," he mumbled already half asleep.

Chapter 23

Justin walked the quiet sidewalk of the waking city with the sensation of Rich still clinging to him. The pleasant memory of his touch warred with the annoyance of wearing yesterday's clothes as he pressed his passkey against the glowing red dot of the card reader and tugged open the door of the employee entrance.

He couldn't say it had been a restful night's sleep, but that hadn't been Rich's fault. Well, at least not entirely. He had to admit, waking up in his arms had been a pleasant way to start the day, though Rich's plans to have sex with breakfast hadn't worked out. He wasn't going to make it through the day if he started it that way. He was already exhausted, so he'd showered alone to quell the temptation. Then he'd put day old clothes over clean skin.

He could remedy the rumpled shirt and pants because he always kept an emergency change of clothes at work. There was no telling what sort of messes he'd get into during the day, but he'd have to live with the boxers.

He strode to his office stifling a yawn and started a pot of coffee. He was several hours early for his shift, but he had things to do before he started work. He stripped out of his clothes while the coffeemaker sputtered and dribbled out a pot. He was in a pressed suit, clean shirt, and new tie by the time it finished. He tucked yesterday's rumpled clothes in a garment bag and hung it over the top of his office door as a reminder to take them home and replace them with fresh ones.

With a mug of coffee and a clean suit, he headed for the service elevator and rode up to Liam's room. He knocked quietly on the door hoping he'd been able to get some rest. He wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't. Liam's already chaotic world had come apart last night and the rapist responsible for the latest offense was sleeping the sleep of the morally bankrupt just a few floors up. That wasn't the sort of thing a person just set aside when it was time for bed.

It hadn't been his ass torn apart or his boyfriend playing pimp, and even he'd had a tough time with it. If it hadn't been for Rich's determined attempts to dislodge the thoughts from his head and a case of accumulated exhaustion, he wouldn't have slept either. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Liam.

He was trying to decide whether to knock again or use his passkey when the door opened and a bleary-eyed kid with a bruised face peered out at him.

"Hi."

"Hi," Liam croaked, and opened the door wider to let him in.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," Liam shook his head and pushed the door closed again.

"How did you sleep?"

"Ok."

He followed him into the sitting area and saw a pillow and wadded up blanket on the couch. A glance to the bedroom confirmed he hadn't used it.

"Mattress too hard?"

"No. I just...," Liam shrugged. "It was easier to sleep out here."

He nodded along. After what Liam had been through, beds probably weren't all that comforting. He stepped to the bar near the door and started another pot of coffee. Liam looked like he needed it. The coffeemaker gurgled as Liam shuffled across the room still wearing last night's clothes. He tucked himself into a corner of the couch, knees drawn up to his chest, looking almost as lost and dejected as he had when he'd left him last night. He followed and settled on the coffee table in front of him.

"Have you come to any decisions about how you want to handle Cord?"

Liam shook his head, his gaze somewhere on the floor.

"I can get your stuff if you don't want to see him."

Liam's face twitched into a pained scowl, tears gathering in his eyes. "I don't want to be back on the street." He pressed the heel of his hand into one eye and curled a little tighter into himself. "How could he do this?" He mumbled. "If I'd wanted to be a prostitute I would have done it myself."

Justin rested a hand on Liam's foot and gave it a gentle squeeze. "He probably figured you'd play along because you didn't have a choice."

"He was right. I let it happen," Liam sniffled. "Just like I always let it happen. I didn't have to come here. I could have gone somewhere else last night."

"This isn't your fault. It's Cord's and that bastard upstairs," he growled and jabbed a finger toward the ceiling.

"Maybe not last night but what about the last two years?"

Horrible understanding shuddered over him, slapping him awake. He'd assumed this mess was recent. Apparently, it wasn't, and the concept turned his stomach.

"You mean he's been doing this the whole time?"

Liam nodded, eyes still on the floor. "Stark and the..." He twitched a hand. "Last night was new, but he started the porn when I turned sixteen."

"Then it was statutory rape every time Cord or anyone else touched you, and anything he put online was child pornography. Both of which are illegal."

"He said he loved me." Watery blue eyes found his. "I know how it looks, but he's my boyfriend. We mean something to each other...or at least we did."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.

"I could have said 'no'. I could have told him I didn't want to do it anymore." Liam rubbed the back of a hand across his eyes. "But I didn't argue. I just went along with it like a good little whore," he said with a disgusted sneer. "Just like Stark said I was."

"This wasn't your fault. Cord took advantage of you, just like that bastard upstairs."

Tears slid down Liam's face, dropping off his jaw to land on his jeans.

"It doesn't make you a whore. It makes you the victim of a guy who deserves to be strung up by his balls and used as a piñata."

Liam sniffled and swiped at his nose. It was time for a change of topic.

"How are...things this morning? Do you need to go to a clinic?"

"No," he shook his head. "He wasn't very big. It's just sore."

Thank heaven for small cocks.

"I think the one thing we can agree on is that you're not going back to Cord after last night, right?"

Liam nodded.

"So we need to start by getting your stuff out of his apartment. Then we need to find you a better job."

"I can't." He shook his head. "I owe Walt and Leslie. They've been too good to me."

"You can't live on what they're paying you, and in order to get this mess sorted out we need to change that."

Liam's scowl burrowed a little deeper.

"They'll understand."

Liam dug the heel of his hand back into his eye. "I don't know what to do." His voice was a miserable gasp.

He wanted to wrap him in his arms and soothe a bit of the misery, but he didn't want a repeat of last night. He settled for caressing his foot.

"I know it's a lot to deal with, but you need to be able to support yourself so you don't have to depend on people like Cord."

The singing of a cell phone on the far side of the room interrupted the conversation. Liam didn't move. He just sat and cried silent tears.

"Do you need to get that?"

"No."

"Is it Cord?"

Liam nodded. "He's been calling for hours. I don't know what to say to him."

"You could tell him what a shitty thing he did and what you think of him for doing it." He shrugged.

"He took me off the street. He gave me a place to live. Don't I owe him something for that?"

"No. How long were you in his apartment before he..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business. Let's just say it's likely the only reason he took you in was to abuse you, and forcing you into porn was his intention all along."

"The first night."

"What?"

The phone fell silent.

"I wasn't into it, but like he says, there's no such thing as a free bed."

"That's exactly what I mean. He didn't do it out of the kindness of his heart. He did it because he's a sexual predator, and he knew you wouldn't refuse no matter how much you hated what he was doing to you. He's been banking on that for years."

"It wasn't like that. He loves me...loved me."

The phone started singing again and Liam buried his face in his knees.

"Do you mind if I talk to him?"

"Why?" Liam asked, his voice muffled by his legs.

"Because someone needs to tell him his little game is over."

Liam's head came up and watery blue eyes stared back at him for a moment as apprehension twisted the misery on his face. "I guess."

He gave his foot a squeeze, got up and stalked across the suite to snatch the phone from its perch on the dresser.

"You've got a lot of nerve," he said by way of a greeting.

"Who is this?"

"The guy who wants to kick your ass."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you sending an innocent kid into the room of a rapist to further your career."

"Is he ok?"

"What do you think?"

"Let me talk to him."

"He doesn't have anything to say to you."

"That guy is a business associate and he just wanted to look at the merchandise before he made a commitment to invest. That's all it was, just a business deal...and don't let the face fool you. Liam isn't as innocent as he looks. He's been around the block a lot."

"You call rape a business deal?"

"Is Liam ok?" There was more suspicion in his tone than concern. "If he hurt him, I'll kick his ass myself. That kid is almost half my business. If he can't work, I could lose customers...and a decent shot at investors. Let me talk to him."

"Your concern is touching. What do you mean 'almost half'?"

"You don't think I'm dumb enough to put my entire future on the ass of one kid do you?" There was a smile in his tone. "Liam's a good fuck, but he doesn't look as young as he used to. He's run his course so I found an alternative that keeps him working. He should be happy I didn't just throw him out."

"Be sure they inscribe that on your award for Humanitarian of the Year."

"Put him on the phone."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't want to talk to you."

"I want to hear that for myself."

"Weren't you listening, dumbass? I said he doesn't want to talk to you. You're not going to hear anything but the sound of the police banging on your door after I tell them about the kiddie-porn business you have going."

"He's a legal adult."

"He is now but I bet you have several years' worth of video where that wasn't the case don't you? In fact, you're probably dumb enough to keep it right there in your apartment."

"Who is this?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Put Liam on the phone."

"No."

"I said put him on the goddamn phone!"

"Fuck off!"

With the push of a button, he silenced Cord before he had a chance to offer any sort of witty comeback. Liam sat watching him from across the room with big concerned eyes.

"What did he say?"

"He's pissed." He put the phone back where it had been.

"I got that much."

"He wants you back."

Liam nodded and his gaze drifted away.

He walked back to the couch and sat down on the coffee table again. "He said last night was just a business deal, nothing personal."

Liam kept nodding.

"And his only concern is whether or not you're still able to work...I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I figured that much out already." Liam sniffled. "He lied to get me over here, because he knew if he told me the truth I wouldn't go. He's been doing that a lot lately."

"What?"

"Lying...not telling me things until the last minute so I can't back out." Liam scowled at a spot on the floor for a long moment. "He let me walk into the room of a man he barely knows and told him he can do whatever he wants to me as long as he pays for it when he's done." A stray tear tracked down his face. "It didn't matter what happened. That guy could have left me in a dumpster, and he wouldn't have given a shit as long as he got his money in the end. He didn't even call to see if I was alright until almost three o'clock."

"I'm glad it didn't turn out that way." He brushed tears from Liam's cheek. "That mess is over and now you're free to do whatever you want."

"He won't let me just walk away. It'll end his career."

"I'm pretty sure being busted for child pornography is going to end it anyway."

He didn't intend to tell him about Cord's revelation that somewhere in the city was at least one other kid living the same nightmare. He'd had enough truth for one day. He didn't need to know Cord had been cheating on him.

Chapter 24

Liam stepped into the hall, following Justin and resisting the urge to cling to his arm like a child. He darted glances both directions, checking for any sign of Stark. He didn't want to see him. The same went for Cord...sort of.

He'd spent the day cooped up in that hotel room pacing the floor and ignoring the view, his thoughts pinned to Cord and what he must have been thinking. He hadn't actually screwed anything up last night. Stark had gotten what he'd paid for and as far as that bastard knew everything was fine, which meant Cord would get his money. Yes, he'd been gone from the apartment all night and had refused to answer his phone, but he was pretty sure the bruise on his face would buy him a little leniency. He could claim he'd been scared and confused. It would be the only bit of truth in the whole mess, and with it he could go crawling back to Cord.

It wasn't what he wanted, but after a day spent weighing his options, he wasn't sure which of his limited prospects he loathed more. He'd always had food at Cord's. He'd had a warm, comfortable bed, clean clothes, and a shower. The street didn't offer any of that, and he couldn't decide if keeping them was worth signing his ass over to a guy who obviously didn't care what happened to him.

He'd thought a lot about that, too. He and Cord had both learned a valuable lesson last night. His was that Cord only loved him for the money he could make, and it was possible it had been that way for a while. Cord's was that he could make a lot more if he pimped him out.

He doubted Cord was upset about the way things had turned out. A bruise on his face meant nothing. His ass was still in working order and that was all that mattered. Last night was just the beginning of a much darker nightmare where he travelled across the city pleasuring random guys at Cord's command. He was a porn star turned rent boy.

There was no way to sugarcoat what had happened, even though it broke his heart to admit Cord obviously didn't love him anymore. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe he never had and the whole thing had been a lie. He wasn't sure which was worse: the idea that he'd been played for a fool, or that one more person had decided they didn't love him as much as they'd thought.

The elevator slowed to a stop and he abandoned the attempt to be strong in the face of growing terror. What if Stark was standing on the other side of the doors? His heart slammed in his chest at the thought, and he grabbed Justin's arm to have something to hold as the doors slid open. He could imagine Stark leering at him with the memory of last night still fresh in his mind, and trying to drag him back upstairs for another round.

Justin turned to him with a smile that slid away a moment later.

"It's ok," Justin rested a hand over his as he held his arm in an iron grip. "There's no chance we'll run into him. I promise."

They stepped out of the car onto marbled burgundy carpet and plain white walls as if they were walking through a completely different building. He vaguely recognized the lack of décor from his trip to Justin's office last night. He got the impression guests rarely saw that side of the five-star hotel, but that didn't stop him from casting anxious glances around the hall.

Justin led him through a brief maze with a hand over his and his arm tucked closer to his body, offering what comfort he could. He appreciated the gesture even if he couldn't understand the motivation behind it.

Justin had always been nice to him, but putting him up in a fancy hotel and offering to take him in as a temporary roommate was beyond nice. He was stepping in the middle of a mess with the excuse that it's what friends did for each other. He wasn't sure what kind of people Justin hung around, but he'd never had a friend like that before. The mild-mannered super hero routine would have made him suspicious were it not for Justin's refusal to collect on the debt no matter how many times he'd offered. Instead, it only left him confused.

Justin led him into his office, pulled a garment bag off the back of the door, and pushed the door closed.

"You ok?" He asked in the same gentle tone he'd been using all day.

"Yeah." He nodded and let go of his arm. "Sorry. I just got a little...," he finished with a shrug.

What was the word? Scared? Childish? Pathetic?

"It's ok. I'd be anxious too if I were in your shoes. Hell, I'd be completely freaking out." Justin offered a smile but he wasn't in the smiling mood. "To be honest, I have no idea what I'd be doing. I can't imagine being in your shoes, Liam."

He shrugged because he didn't know what to say.

"I know you're not thrilled about this, but it's the only option that doesn't leave you in a bad situation. You can come in to work with me every day for a while if you want. It's not exciting, but it will keep Cord from making trouble if you're not alone."

He nodded. They'd talked about this several times during the day when Justin had appeared to check on him and bring him food. He had no family. Leslie and Walt weren't able to take him in now any more than they had been before. Unless he wanted to be out on the street or call around looking for a bed at an overcrowded shelter, Justin's couch was the only option. The shelter would mean he wasn't dependent on anyone else, and it was a tempting idea, but he didn't imagine things had improved over the years. Three years ago the waitlist for a bed had been months' long. Unless the city had built a secret homeless high rise somewhere, he imagined the prospects were still bad.

One more time he had no place else to go but the couch of a guy offering to do him a favor. It made him anxious. Justin wasn't Cord, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be a price to pay for his generosity at some point.

"You ready to go?" Justin asked, locking his desk and gathering his things.

"I guess."

He followed Justin out the door and through the back halls to a heavy fire door. A moment later, they were out on the busy sidewalk crowded with people. They headed down the hill to the metro station, a path he barely remembered walking last night. A wave of surreal confusion spun his head for a moment at the thought of how fast things had come apart. Yesterday he'd thought his biggest problem was porn and finding enough vodka to make it tolerable. Yesterday he'd thought he had a boyfriend who loved him.

He shoved the thoughts away as the first prickle of tears stung his eyes. He didn't want to cry anymore. That's all he'd done last night in his lonely glamorous hotel suite. It was almost all he'd done. He'd also sat in a tub of warm bubbling water and alternately contemplated drowning and hanging himself. The thought of Justin had stopped him. He didn't want Justin to find him like that. Had it been Stark's room or Cord's apartment he probably would have found the inspiration to try it, but only because they would have been the ones to find his body. Alone in that suite, it would have been Justin, and Cord would have just read about it over a morning cup of coffee before turning the page to check the hockey scores.

He stepped into the crowded Skytrain and the doors rumbled closed, whisking them back to a place he didn't want to see ever again. He had no idea what he was going to do if they ran into Cord in the hall. He didn't know what to say to him. Part of him wanted to go back to the way things were, porn and all, and forget Stark had ever happened. It was a stupid idea because he knew that wasn't possible. Whether he liked it or not there was no going back.

Chapter 25

Justin woke in the dark to a silent apartment. He wasn't sure why he was awake, but as long as he was, he decided to check on Liam. The past two days had been devastating. He could see the fear and depression riding him in alternating waves. Things would get better now that he was away from that bastard of a boyfriend, but Liam wasn't ready to see that yet. He couldn't blame him.

He couldn't imagine a life of sexual servitude where his body belonged to someone else to use and abuse as they saw fit. He wouldn't have put up with Cord's bullshit. He might have tolerated the sex in the beginning, but he would have drawn the line at being filmed even if it meant being back out on the street. He'd take poverty and freedom over a warm bed and virtual slavery any day. Of course, that was easy to say when he'd never been on the street. He didn't know how bad it was to live in a world where rule of law meant nothing and the police were the enemy. Being cold, filthy, and starving was only part of it. Maybe a few months of that horror would have changed his mind.

While he couldn't relate to Liam's tolerance of the abuse, he could sympathize with the feeling of betrayal he must have felt last night when he realized what Cord had done. If it had been him, it would have torn his heart out. He had no idea how he would have coped in Liam's shoes, dealing with a rape piled on top of that pain. As depressed as he was, Liam was still coping better than he would have. He was holding together remarkably well for a guy who had just lost everything. He hoped he'd be able to keep it together long enough to make a good impression tomorrow.

Liam had an interview later that morning at an upscale restaurant in one of the waterfront hotels. If he got it, he'd be making at least three times what he made at the burger joint. If he didn't, he supposed it wouldn't be the worst thing for him to hang around the old restaurant with his friends every day. Maybe they could lift his spirits a little...as long as Cord didn't show up and start making trouble.

He crawled out of bed and padded to the living room and an empty couch. There was a pillow and rumpled blanket but no Liam. He shuffled to the switch and turned on the light blinking and squinting at the burst of illumination.

"Liam?"

There was no answer and he pushed aside the temptation to panic. He doubted Liam had gone very far. He yawned his way to the door, tugged it open and stepped into the hall checking for a figure sitting in the dim light. There wasn't one, but the door to Cord's apartment was ajar. He padded across thin, worn carpet and pushed it open before turning on the light. The switch made an echoing click in what was now a vacant, disheveled space.

While Liam had been recovering at the hotel yesterday Cord had cleaned out the apartment and disappeared. Apparently, he'd taken the threat about the police seriously, packed the damning evidence and most of his belongings in boxes and ran like the coward he was. All he'd left were indentations in the carpet, a kitchen full of dishes, and Liam's clothes in a heap on the bedroom floor.

Liam sat on the carpet in the living room with his back against the wall looking lost and miserable, knees pulled up to his chest. Justin padded over to him and sank to the floor beside him in a room where the ghost of lies, betrayal, and a twisted version of love clung to the walls. He wrapped an arm around Liam's shoulders and pulled him close.

If there were any words to make this mess better, he didn't know what they were. Liam was better off without Cord, and while the abrupt end to his porn career had to be startling, it wasn't a tragedy. It meant he could move on to a happier, less abusive existence. He didn't bother telling him that, though. The words would have sounded trite. Liam needed time to mourn. Then they could get to the part where he told him things weren't as bad as they seemed. For the time being, he stuck to tiny bits of comfort.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and pulled Liam closer. "I know he meant something to you even if he was a bastard."

Liam nodded and sniffled.

"Things will get better. You'll see." He gave him a squeeze and got nothing in reply so he sat in silence and let Liam cry while he glared at the empty room.

The bits of information Liam had doled out over the past few days painted an ugly picture. Cord had found him on the street when he was fifteen and had started preparing him for a life of fucking on command the first night. He doubted Cord had ever seen anything in him other than a helpless victim. From the sound of it rounding up kids to finance his business was part of the routine. He doubted Liam was the first kid he'd ever abused. He already knew he wasn't the last. Unfortunately stopping him wasn't his job. That was up to the police. They already had his statement. They'd take Liam's once he was up to talking about it. He didn't know what kind of priority they would give it, or whether they would ever track Cord down. All he knew was if he saw the bastard again he was going to lay him out.

He sighed out the anger and gave Liam a gentle squeeze. The damage was done and busting Cord's nose wasn't going to erase it. He needed to keep his focus on helping Liam pick up the pieces. The kid had a life to rebuild.

"Why don't we go back to bed?" He said. "You have a big day tomorrow."

Liam nodded.

"It'll be the first day of a new life that doesn't have anything to do with video cameras."

Liam nodded again but didn't move.

"Come on." He let go of him and pushed to his feet before tugging Liam up after him.

He gently herded him out into the hall before turning off the light in the apartment and closing the ghosts in the dark. He doubted Liam would ever get over the horror he'd faced in that place, but he hoped the landlords found a new tenant soon. He didn't want Liam making a habit of visiting his past in the middle of the night. It wouldn't do him any good.

Chapter 26

Justin spent the next day wandering the halls of the hotel, snatching the phone from its holster with eager anticipation every time it went off. Liam had an interview with the manager of La Meilleure, a five-star French restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It would be a stretch to say the man was a friend, more a business associate. The Rosenthal sent guests to his tables on a regular basis.

As long as Liam presented himself well during the interview, he expected him to get a job at least on a trial basis. It was a big step up from a small diner to a place that catered to the affluent. Even with Liam's years of experience, he doubted they would have considered him were it not for his personal recommendation. He knew Liam could do the job. If he mastered things in real life as quickly as he did in videogames, he'd be an expert server in no time. His only real concern was whether Liam was able to put on a good face for the interview. He hoped so because opportunities like that one didn't happen often. Still, he was determined not to be disappointed if Liam couldn't pull it off.

His phone chimed and he snatched it up one more time.

"This is Justin."

"Hi."

There was tension in a voice that was usually warm and soothing.

"Hi. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah but I have some news, and I'm not sure you're going to be happy about it," Rich said.

"Why? What's going on?"

"James is in town."

He blinked at the closed elevator doors as the car descended to the lower level. He wasn't sure what to think.

"I just got off the phone with him," Rich continued. "He wants to meet for dinner tonight. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Rich had every right to meet with his ex, and the fact that he was admitting it up front made him even less reluctant to complain about it. He said he was finished with James, and he had no reason to think he wasn't. Besides, if Rich trusted him enough to believe there was nothing going on with Liam, who was sleeping on his couch every night, then he had no right to bitch about him having dinner with an ex-lover.

"It means I won't be able to see you tonight."

"That's ok," he paused as he realized there might be a reason Rich was being up front about it. "Do you want some company when you see him?"

"No. I think it's better if I do it alone."

"Ok. Then you go hash things out with James. I'll be fine."

"You're an incredible guy, you know that?" He could hear the smile.

"Yes, I am and don't forget it."

"I'll call you later."

He ended the call as he stepped into his office, and was settling behind his desk to review the list of incoming guests when his office phone rang. He picked it up before it had a chance to roll to his cell phone.

"Hey, it's Lance. So I interviewed this kid of yours. You're sure he's eighteen? He doesn't look it, and I don't want to get in trouble for hiring an underage kid and working him into the ground," he said without a trace of accent.

He faked that for the customers on the rare occasion when he mingled with them.

"I'm sure," he smiled. "He just has one of those faces. What did you think of him?"

"I think he's a little green, but he's eager to learn and I need that more than experience. I can work with it."

"So he's got the job?"

"If he can come up with the cash for a new wardrobe then yes."

"Don't worry about that. He'll be dressed and ready to go whenever you need him."

"I told him he starts tomorrow on our early shift. He'll be bussing and learning for the first few weeks."

"Fair enough. Thanks, Lance. I owe you one."

"Yes, you do." He heard the grin before Lance hung up.

It was good and bad news. Liam had a new job where he could learn the skills that would make him a valuable commodity in the service industry. A five-star restaurant would look very good on his resume, assuming he could keep up with Lance's expectations.

It also meant he needed to buy Liam a couple of suits. La Meilleure waiters didn't walk around in cheap pants and wrinkled shirts, and that's where the bad news came in. It was going to add several hundred dollars to the cost of getting Liam out of his nightmare. He wasn't worried about the money, but he knew Liam would be. Liam already felt indebted to him, and this was only going to make it worse.

He was still scowling over the idea when his cell phone chirped, and he heard the newly hired server on the other end.

"How did it go?" He asked as if he didn't already know.

"I start tomorrow," Liam said in a happier tone than he'd heard from him in weeks.

"That's great!"

"I'm going to be bussing for a while and shadowing some of the waiters until Lance thinks I'm ready to do it on my own, but that's ok. It's still more than I'm making at Amy's. Walt is going to kill me." Happy turned to depressed in an instant.

"Walt will understand. You have to live on what you make now. He's not going to fault you for needing a better job."

He wasn't sure how much Liam's employer knew about his unfortunate second career, but he doubted Liam made it a habit of telling people. They probably didn't know much. Hell, he'd lived across from him and Cord for over two years and hadn't suspected a thing. At the moment, they thought he was home sick with the flu.

"I suppose not, but I owe them a lot."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I can do it. I just feel like a jerk."

"You're not a jerk. You're a guy trying to support himself on minimum wage in the most expensive city in Canada. That's impossible, Liam. Walt knows that as well as anyone."

"I hope so. That's not the worst of it," Liam continued. "I need new clothes. Lance said what I'm wearing doesn't cut it. He gave me the name of a place, and I have to go and get a new wardrobe before tomorrow. I have no idea how I'm going to do that when I have next to nothing in my bank account."

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Lance and work something out. Did he give you a list of what you need?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead and get it and don't skimp on the price. It's important that you look nice."

"How am I going to make enough to live on if it takes me six months to pay off the debt to Lance for the clothes?"

"It won't. Just trust me, ok? I won't let you get in over your head. I promise."

"Ok." He didn't sound convinced.

"Good. Go get your fancy new clothes and you can show them off for me tonight."

"Ok. Thanks, Justin. Really. I don't know how to pay you back for all of this."

"Don't worry about that either. We'll settle up when you're back on your feet."

He hung up without telling him that day would never come. He wasn't keeping track of what it cost other than to make sure he had enough money in savings to cover it. Once this was over and Liam had settled into his new life, he intended to wipe the slate clean and pretend it had never happened.

He wasn't an altruistic do-gooder regardless of how it looked. He just couldn't stand the thought of Liam living in a shelter with the rest of the city's homeless, and there was no way in hell he was letting him go back to Cord out of desperation. If it meant he ended up with a permanent roommate, then that's just the way it went. Things with Rich were heating up anyway. It was possible he wasn't going to be home much anymore.

He called Lance back and got the name of the clothing store. Then he called and gave them a credit card number to cover Liam's suits, along with a little detail on exactly what he needed. He spent the afternoon smiling about the new job and the idea that in a few weeks Cord would be nothing but an unpleasant memory.

When he got home that night, he found garment and shopping bags piled on one end of the couch, and Liam sitting on the other chewing his nails and scowling at the collection.

"Hi." He smiled, his gaze bouncing between the clothes and Liam. "Have you tried them on yet?"

"No."

He shrugged out of his overcoat, eyes on Liam. "What's wrong?"

"Do you have any idea how much money is sitting there? The clothes, the shoes, the overcoat. It's almost a thousand dollars. How am I ever going to pay it off?"

"You don't need to worry about that." He shrugged out of his suit jacket.

"How can I not worry about it? Lance will be taking it out of my pay for months, and I'll be back to making what I made before. I might as well have stayed with Walt."

He crouched beside him and rested a hand on his knee. "Lance isn't going to take anything out of your paycheck. The clothes are already paid for."

"What do you mean?"

"I took care of it."

The news didn't do anything to ease the anxiety in his expression. "I didn't want you to have to do that. You've done enough for me already."

"It doesn't cost me anything to have you living here, and the hotel manager took care of the cost of your stay the other night. So far you've been very cheap." He smiled.

"This isn't." Liam waved a hand at the pile of clothes.

"I don't want you to worry about what this is going to cost you, ok? I promise you there is zero chance I'm going to come collecting on any of it. As far as I'm concerned, you don't owe me anything. Not in cash, not in sexual favors, not in anything."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend."

"That's not much of an answer."

"It is to me. I don't want you to end up back on the street or back with Cord because you don't think you have any choice. If it costs me a little to help you get on your feet then it's worth it. Otherwise I'd lie awake every night worrying about what was happening to you." He caressed Liam's knee through his jeans and stomped his hormones back down.

It was a moment he would have loved to punctuate with a kiss, but Liam didn't need the drama and he had a boyfriend to consider. That would only make a mess of things.

"You would?" Liam mumbled.

"Yes and I'm getting too little sleep as it is, so go try on your new suit and let me see how you look." He got to his feet.

Liam unfolded from the corner of the couch and grabbed a garment bag with hanger hooks poking out of the top before trudging into the bedroom. Justin pulled off his shoes and padded into the kitchen to start dinner, casting occasional glances at the closed door. When it finally opened, a breathtaking sight stepped out.

Liam was dressed in black pants, with a matching cummerbund and a crisp, white shirt. An untied bow tie was draped around a collar folded into starched points. The black of the suit went well with his dark hair and dazzling blue eyes, and he gaped for a moment before pulling himself together.

"Does it have a jacket?"

"Yes."

"Go get it. Let's see the whole outfit."

Liam padded back into the bedroom and came out tugging on a black suit jacket.

"I don't know how to do bow ties."

"It's easy. I'll show you." He stepped out of the kitchen trying not to stare but unable to help himself.

"Does it look ok?" Liam asked, the scowl still in place.

"You look amazing." He smiled as he tied the tie, earning a hint of one in return. "I can honestly say I have never seen a man look better in a suit than you do right now."

The comment inspired a bashful smile.

"You think I'm kidding. Have you looked at yourself?"

"No."

"Come on." He ushered him into the bathroom and turned on the light. "Look at that."

Liam stared at his reflection for a long moment looking neither pleased nor annoyed. He just stared.

"What do you think?"

"It looks ok." Liam shrugged.

"Trust me. It looks better than ok."

Liam stepped out and he turned off the light.

"Have you tried on the shoes?"

"At the store."

"Do they fit ok?"

"Yeah."

How about the overcoat?"

"It's fine."

"Good. Why don't you take that off, and we can have dinner. Then I guess we need to do a load of laundry and wash some of your shirts before tomorrow."

Liam changed back into jeans and t-shirt. He did the same and they sat down to dinner before carting a basket of new shirts and socks down to the laundry room.

Chapter 27

Justin rang the bell at Rich's townhouse and stepped into his arms when the door opened. It surprised him how much he'd missed being near him the past two nights. Not just the sex, but having him close. He was getting used to those arms, those lips, that body.

Almost every night started with the same hug that mutated to a kiss that sparked enough passion to have them shedding clothes before they even left the foyer. That night, however, Rich held onto him and kissed him with arms wrapped tight around him.

"I missed you." Rich mumbled to his skin as the kiss drifted from his mouth.

"Me, too and I'm fully prepared to show you how much."

"I hope so."

The tone in his voice didn't carry the typical passion threatening to spill out of control, and when Rich's head came up he saw the pensive expression that went with it.

"What?"

"I need to talk to you before we do anything else."

"Ok." He scowled at him as Rich took his hand and led him to the kitchen.

Rich uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses before scooping them up and leading the way down into the living room. The silence was a little unnerving as they settled into the leather.

"I have something to tell you." Rich told his glass before taking a sip. "Things didn't go exactly as planned at dinner last night."

He watched as Rich talked to his wine, sitting a foot away and darting brief glances at him that didn't quite meet his eyes. He wasn't going to like whatever Rich was about to say.

"James tells me he's sober. He says he's been clean since we broke up."

"Do you believe him?"

"I have no idea." Rich took another drink. "He says a lot of things he doesn't always mean."

It was a kind way of saying he was a lying bastard, and he wondered why Rich didn't just say it, but he wasn't the one telling the story. There was a drawn out pause and he tried to figure out what part of the tale warranted the somber attitude.

"He says he wants me back." Brown eyes met his.

"And you weren't expecting that?"

"I was." He nodded. "He doesn't want a commitment, he just wants something easy with no strings."

"So he wants you to cheat?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I said I wasn't interested in messing up a good thing just to go back to being his toy."

A little of the gathering tension leaked back out of him. "I'm glad to hear that."

Rich twitched a brief smile and went back to talking to his wine. "Of course, I said that before I kissed him."

The words bounced through him like a pinball. "You kissed him?"

"Well, he kissed me, but I didn't stop him." Rich got to his feet. "I don't know what I was thinking. He kissed me and it felt so good and so familiar, and I just got lost in it." He wandered a few steps away. "I wanted him, Justin. If we'd been anywhere else I would have let him fuck me and never given it a second thought."

He took a gulp of wine and nodded along as the words tumbled into him, twisting something inside until his stomach ached from it. Rich took a gulp of his own and cast a glance to him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It just did and hate that it hurts you, but he's got my head all turned around."

"Meaning what?"

"I don't know what I feel for him anymore. It's almost habitual to fall into bed with him. I'm so confused I don't know what to do."

He sat on the same cushions where they'd had sex at least half a dozen times, and listened to Rich tell him he wasn't sure about them anymore. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He took another drink and stood up, leaving his wine on the end table.

"I don't know what you want me to say." He shrugged. "You told me you were over him. Now you're telling me that's not really true. What am I supposed to say to that?" He demanded.

"I don't know."

"If you're expecting me to spend the night with you just to remind you what we have, then you're out of your mind. You honestly can't see a difference between us and James?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's complicated. James is always complicated," Rich snapped. "I told you that in the beginning."

"You also told me you were done with him, and as long as you had someone else in your life it would stay that way."

"I thought it would."

"And now you don't."

"I'm not saying that either. It's just not as easy to choose. I never thought it would be this hard to resist him, and I'm frustrated and disappointed in myself that I still want him this much after everything he's done to me. I want it to be over. I thought it was, I just...," Rich drained his glass in two gulps and stalked back to the kitchen.

A little of the anger leaked back out of him at the words, and he followed Rich to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Rich told the counter, his back to him. "I never meant for this to happen."

Justin stepped to him and rested a hand on his back. Rich turned toward him at the touch, and they wrapped arms around each other.

"I'm sorry," Rich repeated.

"I know."

"I don't know what to do with him."

"Are you going to see him again?"

"No. I obviously can't trust myself."

"Then why don't we call this the end of it?"

Rich let him go to take his face in his hands. "Is it any wonder I love you?"

The words were just as shocking as the confession about James, and he blinked back at Rich with no idea what to say. He wasn't anywhere near the 'I love you' phase. They'd only been dating a few weeks, and that wasn't long enough for him to make such a pronouncement. He liked him and when Rich was moving in him just right, he really liked him, but that was as far as he was prepared to go.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise." Rich kissed him.

"There's nothing to make up. It was just a kiss right?"

Rich nodded and kissed him again, settling into it and wrapping him back in his arms. He had no right to be angry over a kiss. A couple of days ago he'd been in the same situation, with warm lips and an eager body pressed close offering something he wanted to give even if he hadn't. It had been a different situation but the result was the same, not that he intended to confess it. It would just make Rich worry about the kid sleeping on his couch across town, and there was no need. What he felt for Liam went a little deeper than "like," but that wasn't important because it wasn't going anywhere.

Rich led him up the stairs by the hand and the subject of who had kissed whom and why floated away while Rich made good on his promise to make it up to him.

Chapter 28

The next day Justin's cell phone chimed as he strode out of the hotel to check on the valets. They had a new kid on staff that week and he wanted to make sure things were working out.

"We have a problem with a new arrival," Russ informed him over the phone.

"What?"

"They haven't. That's the problem. They requested a car to meet them at the airport but the order didn't come through with their reservation."

"Shit."

"Exactly."

"Did you send one?"

"It just left, but they're not happy about the wait."

"Double check the reservation and make sure we didn't just miss it. I'll take care of the rest."

"I did and it isn't listed, but they were charged the extra fee."

"Great. Will you have someone call IT and get it fixed? In the meantime, check all incoming reservations for this afternoon and make sure we don't have the same issue."

"Got it."

He strode back inside past the front desk and down the length of the lobby toward the restaurant. He slipped into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of their best wine, and took it upstairs along with a voucher for two free entrees in the upper lounge. He left them on the counter in the guest's suite with a note of apology, and then went back downstairs to greet the disgruntled couple himself.

It was an average day at the office and familiarity went a long way to soothing his still rumbling concern over last night. His love life was a lot more complicated than his job. Certain guests went out of their way to invent trouble, but there was no such thing as an unresolved issue that lingered for days like clouds on the Vancouver skyline. He wished he could say the same about his new relationship.

Last night had been one of the best he and Rich had ever shared, but it hadn't changed the fact that James was still an unresolved issue. He wanted back in and as much as Rich wanted to be finished with him, getting over the craving was apparently like turning away a Girl Scout with a wagon full of thin mints.

He wanted to trust Rich, but it was hard when he'd admitted he didn't know how to walk away from the man who had dominated his life for well over a decade. He still wanted James even if he wasn't happy about the way it felt. Guilt was nice, but it didn't solve the problem, especially not if James had settled back in Vancouver for good. One dinner might not be the end of it if he was determined to reclaim his territory. It would be a recurring temptation, and he wasn't sure Rich could resist it for long.

He shoved the issue aside yet again and turned his thoughts to things he could actually control. He had a hotel to run, guests to care for, and Liam to watch over. That was more than enough to keep him occupied.

He pulled his cell from its holster as he walked, and sent a text to Liam asking how the new job was going. It was his second day, and according to his retelling at the apartment last night, there was a lot to learn. It wasn't enough to get the right order to the right person. There were routines to follow, menus to learn, and added embellishments to remember. Even something as simple as pouring wine was almost like a ceremony.

He was familiar with the routine, because they had the same thing in their upper lounge. Everything was done a certain way, and customers that were used to that sort of treatment knew the difference. If Liam wanted tips and to keep his position as server, he needed to get all of it right every time. Otherwise he'd stay a busser and be relegated to cleaning tables and washing dishes for the duration.

In truth, he wasn't worried. Liam took the whole thing very seriously, and he'd promised to let Liam practice on him every morning before work, because he wasn't going to spend the night at Rich's again until the James issue was settled. They could spend a few hours in each other's arms, but he didn't want to pretend they had a future when he wasn't sure they did.

The response to his text came back a few moments later. It was going well but Liam regretted not being able to sneak gulps of coffee in between orders anymore. He was exhausted. Justin smiled and replied that he needed to start carrying chocolate-covered espresso beans in his pockets. Liam replied with a laugh and smiley face, and he grinned at his phone before tucking it back in the holster.

He held Liam in the front of his mind to block everything else as he stepped back outside. Liam was uncomplicated and sweet. He needed that right now.

He met the scowling, complaining guests when their car rolled into the circular entry, and apologized all the way up to the VIP desk on the twenty-seventh floor. He sent the attendants ahead with the bags and escorted the guests to their suite once they were checked in. Then he left them to settle in and headed back downstairs, hoping theirs had been a solitary glitch and they weren't going to have a last minute scramble to get a car to the airport for anyone else. That was the sort of thing guaranteed to have guests lodging complaints on travel websites, and they couldn't have that. They were going to have to double-check reservations for a few days.

Chapter 29

Three weeks passed and nothing changed. James was still in town. Rich was still trying to ignore him, determined to move past the addiction, not that James had made it easy. He had a nasty habit of popping up in random places, trying to wear him down.

Justin sat at his desk putting together the employee schedule for the following month. It was the sort of project guaranteed to hold his attention, and that's exactly what he needed. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of waiting for the final verdict on the James issue. He was tired of the continuing drama and tension mangling what had been a promising start to their relationship. To think only a couple of months ago he'd seen his life as almost boring. Ah, the good old days.

A knock on his open office door interrupted his attempt to put the whole mess out of his mind, and he glanced up to see Russ standing in the hall.

"Come on in." He waved him into the room and turned back to his computer.

"Are you still looking for a roommate?"

That earned his undivided attention. "I'm not but I know someone who is. Why? Do you have a suggestion?"

"Yeah. He's a friend of a friend going to UBC. His roommate just moved out, and he's freaking out over finding a new one. He's been spending half the cash his parents give him for rent on stuff for his band. I guess they think he has the place to himself. Anyway, he's desperate, and open to anybody with a steady income."

Finally, some good news.

"Got his number?"

"Yeah, here." Russ dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to him.

"Thanks."

It was no strain on his patience or his budget to have Liam living on his couch. He was quiet, clean, and worked a lot, so they weren't under each other's feet very often. They didn't even have the same days off. As far as roommates went, he was ideal.

At the same time, it wasn't good for Liam to live in a building crowded with so many bad memories. He wouldn't be able to move on until he could physically move on. It had taken some doing, but he'd finally convinced him to consider other options. They'd been looking for weeks, but Liam had a problem with every place they'd found. Either it was too far from downtown, or he didn't like the guy already living there.

He didn't blame him for being skittish after what he'd been through. Picking a new roommate was a gamble, and Liam didn't see a reason to bother when he already had one he liked. He'd even started paying a portion of the rent in groceries, but it wasn't something they could do forever. He needed a place with a real bedroom, and maybe a chance to meet new people and make some new friends. Other than him, Liam hadn't made any friends since he'd met Cord because he'd been terrified people would learn his secret.

He left a message at the number Russ gave him, and hoped for the best. This time he intended to go with Liam to look the place over, even if he had to take some personal time to do it.

When his phone chimed three hours later, he made an appointment to see the place that afternoon. Then he called Liam.

"Are you busy?"

"Not really. Why?"

"I need you to meet me at the hotel."

"Now?"

"If you can."

"Why?"

"Because I have a new roommate you need to meet and an apartment to see."

There was a pause on the other end. "Ok. I guess," Liam said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"Great. I'll see you in about half an hour?"

"Ok."

When Liam walked into the hotel lobby a little over thirty minutes later, he didn't look any more enthusiastic than he'd sounded. He couldn't blame him. He was railroading him into it a little but it was for his own good. He greeted Liam with an eager smile, and walked him outside to the short line of taxis waiting at the curb. The address wasn't that far away, but a cab was faster. They piled in the back and he gave Liam a brief pep talk all the way there. What they found when the cab finally stopped was a surprise.

From Liam's telling almost every place he'd seen in his price range had been a disaster disguised as an apartment: rundown, dingy, and on the verge of being condemned. This place was none of those. It was a crisply painted house on a quiet street corner in a middle class neighborhood. The yard was immaculate. Traffic was minimal and the rent was within Liam's budget.

"This doesn't look too bad," he commented as they strode down the concrete walk.

There were two doors, one upstairs on the front porch, one down a set of concrete steps just to the right of it. They were looking for a downstairs apartment with its own entrance, so he descended the stairs and knocked, Liam a step behind. A kid with light, curly hair who didn't look much older than Liam opened the door.

"Craig?"

"Yeah, come on in."

"I'm Justin. This is Liam, your prospective roommate."

"How's it going?" Craig stuck out his hand.

"Not bad. You?" Liam shook it.

"Good. Let me show you around."

They wandered the small space with all the basics, and a bedroom on either side of a single bath. Liam was used to sharing a bathroom, so he didn't expect that to be a big deal. The place was just as neat and clean as the front yard, and he suspected it had something to do with the landlords living upstairs. It wouldn't take them very long to figure out the lower floor of their house was being turned into a disaster area. The laundry room was upstairs, and they shared it with the landlords, so close contact was guaranteed.

He loved that idea. It meant there was almost no chance Liam would end up with trouble from his new roommate. At least nothing more upsetting than eating his food or leaving the kitchen a mess. After what he'd been through those would be minor annoyances.

Craig left them alone in the kitchen to talk things over, but as far as he was concerned, the place was perfect.

"What do you think?"

"It's a little far from the restaurant."

"He said only thirty minutes by metro. That's about the same as what you have now."

"I guess."

"It's clean."

"Yeah. It's a little dark, though."

"It's pretty close to a basement," he shrugged. "You're not home that often anyway."

"No."

"The kid seems nice. The place is quiet. The landlord is right upstairs, and you'll have your own room."

"Yeah."

Liam looked uncertain and scared. He gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Things are going to be much better here. You'll see. We can even get a security bar for your bedroom door if it'll make you feel better."

Liam nodded.

"With you working extra shifts all the time, you won't be home to notice whether he leaves his socks on the living room floor or hogs all the milk. You'll be working, and he'll be in class or off with his band."

"I guess...but I don't know him or any of his friends."

"Give it time. You guys will get to know each other, and if you decide you don't like him it won't matter. College doesn't last forever. He'll graduate and then you'll get to pick your next roommate."

Liam twitched a smile.

"And you know where I am. You can drop by for a visit anytime you want. We can even meet for lunch now and then."

The smile stayed a little longer. "I'd like that."

"Good. Then it's settled?"

"I guess so."

They found Craig and told him the good news. The relief on his face was unmistakable, a counterbalance to Liam's pensive scowl, and they all trotted upstairs to meet the landlords. In the middle of the afternoon, with her husband at work and the kids at school, it was just the thirty-something housewife. They sat at the kitchen table, ate homemade scones, and signed Liam's new lease.

The scowl burrowed deeper into Liam's face as they rode back to the hotel. He was excited about the step Liam was about to take. Liam hadn't reached excited yet. He was still back at scared. For the first time he would be in control of his own life. It was a good thing, but there was plenty of room for a wild imagination to conjure up all sorts of tragedies. He expected reality to be a lot less chaotic and dire than Liam thought. He would settle in and his life would settle down at about the same rate. The likelihood of a slime ball weaseling his way in and turning him back into a prisoner was remote now that he was able to support himself.

He wrapped an arm around Liam's shoulders and pulled him close as they sped through the city.

"It's going to be great. Wait and see. I'll take a few hours off tomorrow and we can move you in."

Liam nodded against his shoulder unconvinced.

Chapter 30

Liam stood in his new room looking at a bare mattress, yet another thing Justin had bought him. The size of his ever-expanding debt worried him. He didn't like owing people things, because at some point they collected. Cord had taught him that, and he wasn't eager to repeat history. Of course, Justin wasn't Cord. He'd spent the last few weeks proving that.

Night after night, they'd slept in the same space, and not once had Justin crawled in bed with him. Justin hadn't even tried to kiss him yet. All he did was hold him. Cord had taken much less time to collect on debts. In Justin's place, Cord would have stayed with him at the hotel, and probably had sex with him that same night without giving a damn that he was still sore. That sort of thing had never mattered to Cord.

He shook the topic loose and turned his attention to the closet and a collection of newly cleaned suits that had officially opened the tab he couldn't seem to close. He wasn't sure what to make of Justin. Regardless of what he said, people didn't do things like that for their friends, at least not any people he knew. Even Walt and Leslie had clear expectations. They gave him food and pats on the back, and he took care of their customers and helped with the dishes. There was an exchange. He wasn't exchanging anything with Justin. He was just taking, and it bothered him.

He slid the closet door closed and grabbed the fitted sheet for the mattress, tugging it in place on a bed that had a frame but no headboard. They reminded him of too many things he'd rather forget, not the least of which was what an idiot he'd been. He'd spent years telling himself Cord loved him, despite a pile of evidence that said the only thing he loved about him was his ass. He'd believed every word out of Cord's mouth and it had all been lies. He'd suspected it before that night at the hotel. He'd been convinced of it afterwards, but it had still taken him a while to understand the extent of the deception.

Sitting in the dark of Cord's empty apartment the night Justin had brought him back from the hotel, he'd started to wonder what else had been a lie besides Cord's confessions of love. He'd taken his lingering suspicions online the next day and found out the rest. He wasn't the only face on Cord's website. There were three others, and they looked younger than he did. Knowing Cord, they probably were, and knowing Cord, he was probably having sex all of them.

Cord had spent almost every day off somewhere doing stuff he claimed was part of his job as producer. He'd come home every night, so he'd never pushed for details, but seeing those other boys he knew...he just knew. Did he call them by the same nickname? Had he put them through the same initiation, teaching them how to fuck like a pro so he could introduce them to a much bigger nightmare?

He'd stared at the screen asking questions that had no answers, until the pictures had blurred from his tears. Then he'd sprinted to the bathroom and spent a good ten minutes heaving into the toilet. It was all a lie. Every touch, every kiss, every word out of Cord's mouth and he'd believed him. It didn't matter that he was the one Cord came home to every night, because the idea that he was his favorite whore didn't count for much.

He shoved the thoughts away as he tugged the new comforter in place. He was tired of thinking about it. He'd been an idiot to believe Cord had ever given a damn about him. That first night hadn't been about love and he'd known it all along, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. He'd need it to be something other than Cord taking advantage of him because the alternative had been too depressing. He'd needed to mean something to someone, anyone, and Cord had been good at pretending.

Even that first time hadn't been all bad. He'd kissed him, touched him, and held him close, and a lot of it had felt good. He'd been insistent about the sex, but he'd also been gentle and slow, touching him in ways he'd never been touched before. Of course, at that point it hadn't been hard to do.

His one and only lover before Cord had been a boy from his geometry class, and their first time had been on a random Saturday afternoon, hidden in the back seat of the family car in the garage. Kissing had led to clumsy touching, which had led to something he'd fantasized about for a long time. It hadn't been spectacular, but it had been wonderful being naked in someone's arms feeling something other than an inanimate object inside him. He'd been sure it was the start of a blazing love affair. Then his father had walked in, and his life and their relationship had ended in a screamed tirade. He'd been out on the street by Monday.

The first time with Cord had been spectacular in its own way, but he couldn't say wonderful, because it was altogether different having a man inside him than a fourteen-year-old boy. He'd glossed over it in his mind for the past couple of years, forcing it into the category of love with everything else, but he wasn't trying so hard anymore. Cord might not have been as brutal about it as the man whose name he never intended to speak again, but it had taken weeks before it had stopped inspiring tears.

The first few shoots had been worse. He hadn't had to fake the pain or anxiety for the camera. He'd been terrified and humiliated, and had hated every minute of it. Cord had known it. He just hadn't given a shit. Years of living in the same space together, sharing the same bed obviously hadn't changed that. The only thing that was different was that he didn't cry anymore. Hundreds of cocks in his ass had taught him how to relax. Hundreds of cocks in his mouth had taught him how to give head. Hundreds of sets of hands on his body had taught him how not to give a damn who touched him.

That wasn't quite true. It had taught him how to check out and let his mind carry him away somewhere else, but he'd never figured out how not to care. He supposed it didn't matter anymore. Cord was gone and he'd taken the lie of a relationship with him. He'd also taken all the men with him. His body was finally his own, and if nobody ever fucked him again he wouldn't be heartbroken over it.

He stuffed clothes into a drawer in the dresser and slammed it closed, jerking himself away from the thought before it looped back around to that bastard at the hotel. It did that a lot. Those two were forever tied together in his mind.

He stuffed socks into another drawer and reminded himself that night hadn't been all bad. The rape had been a horror he never wanted to experience again, but thanks to Justin, it had gotten him away from Cord. One final, terrible violation, and the nightmare was over.

He smiled at the thought. Justin always made him smile. He might not understand his motivation for spoiling him, but he understood that he was his friend and had been since Cord had moved them into that apartment in Burnaby. He had no idea how many hours they'd spent together on the couch playing video games. It had been his refuge, the only thing he'd done that had made him feel like a kid again, and if he'd tried he had almost been able to imagine he'd been back home in his old life and the nightmare hadn't been real.

There was something between them, at least for him. He felt the sparks every time Justin held him, but if Justin felt the same he never showed it. His determination to get him out on his own proved there was nothing there, and he didn't intend to talk himself into love again. The sparks were all in his head. It was probably better that way.

Chapter 31

Justin tugged open the heavy glass door and stepped into Ricchi's reception area weeks later. The bittersweet memory of his first date with Rich wafted over him and he almost smiled, but couldn't quite find the inspiration. Weeks of indecision had dampened what should have been a growing affection for each other. Just when Rich started to warm up to him again, James would call or appear at his office out of nowhere. He gave Rich credit for being honest each time it happened, but he was on the verge of calling their relationship off until Rich made up his mind. The problem was he knew what would happen if he did, and he wasn't sure it would be good for anyone...except James. He wasn't in the mood to do that jackass any favors.

He pasted on a well-practiced smile when the hostess appeared.

"Table for one?" She asked.

"Actually, I'm here to see Marcus. He has a special order for me."

"Your name, please?"

"Justin from the Rosenthal."

"One moment." She picked up the phone and muttered into it before hanging up again. "He'll be right out."

"Thank you."

He stepped aside and glanced into the dimly lit dining area known as much for its romantic atmosphere as its food. Then he shifted his attention to the well-lit bar. He wasn't there to reminisce about Rich. He was there to pick up pastries for an incoming VIP.

Marcus appeared wearing a traditional white chef's jacket and led him back through the tables, nodding and smiling to customers as he went. He followed, glancing at people with only mild interest until his gaze landed on a familiar face. His steps slowed and then stopped when he saw Rich across the room in a cozy corner booth with a man he didn't recognize. He was already crafting a viable platonic explanation when the mystery man leaned across the table and kissed Rich. The last of his hope and the explanation shattered on the floor when Rich didn't pull away.

"Everything ok?" Marcus appeared at his side

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry." He dragged his eyes away from the scene. "I was looking at the décor. It's very beautifully done," he lied.

"I'm surprised you could see it with the lights down," Marcus said motioning him toward the kitchen and dropping his voice. "Five million dollars to remodel, and you can't see most of the detail because the place is so damn dark. Come by when we can turn the lights up and you'll really be impressed."

He listened with half an ear as he struggled to control the urge to march back across the five-million-dollar room and demand an explanation he didn't need. He knew exactly who the mystery man was. Weeks of persistent coercion had finally broken Rich down. He couldn't say he was surprised.

He wanted to be pissed and part of him wanted to sit down and cry, but he couldn't find the inspiration to do either one. He was disappointed, but the truth was Rich was allowed to do whatever he wanted. They'd never discussed monogamy in their ill-fated romance. It had happened by default, because when they'd started out neither of them had had any other prospects. Rich had never lied to him about James. The whole mess had always been out in the open, so he had no real cause to be pissed, even if he felt it anyway. Disappointment and stinging betrayal were in there too, and he shoved the collaboration aside. He had a job to do.

He inspected the small collection of pastries, immaculate and artful enough to have earned Ricchi a reputation that had nothing to do with their fancy new décor. Then Marcus boxed them up and sent him on his way. He strode back through the restaurant without giving Rich so much as a glance and stomped back to the hotel, taking great care not to disturb the pastries in the process. He carried them up to the thirtieth floor and arranged them on the counter of the bar in a suite more than twice the size of his apartment. Then he slid back into his normal routine and tried not to let his internal seething spill over into anything else.

His job required a lot of patience and even more composure. He couldn't afford to let personal catastrophes cloud his mood, so he held onto the fake smile and manufactured positive attitude until his shift was over. Then he took a cab to Rich's townhouse and let the smile slide away.

"You're early." Rich smiled when he opened the door. "Are the buses running fast?"

"Took a cab." He stepped into the foyer.

"Is everything ok? You look upset." Rich pushed the door closed.

"That depends. Let's talk about your day. Start with lunch."

"It was nothing special." He shrugged. "Just a client meeting."

He stared at Rich, annoyance bubbling into anger at the lie. "A 'client meeting'?"

"Yes."

"Are we talking about the same lunch because I meant the one at Ricchi's?"

Rich's innocent expression slid immediately to guilt. "How did you know?"

"I was there running an errand for the hotel. I don't suppose I need to ask who it was."

"James," Rich mumbled and walked to the kitchen.

"Skip the wine. I won't be here that long."

"It didn't mean anything. It was just lunch." Rich turned back to him.

"Does lunch with James always involve kissing? Do I even want to know how many of these you've had with him without telling me?"

"It was a mistake. I told you how he can get to me sometimes."

"You also told me you didn't want to see him again, because you didn't think you could control yourself."

"He talked me into it...to say good-bye. I should have known better, but I went anyway. It was stupid." Rich slid onto a barstool.

"And did you?"

"What?"

"Say good-bye, or is this going to be a recurring thing where you make out with him and expect me to pretend it's not happening."

"It's not that easy."

He scowled at him for a moment and then headed for the door.

"We have a lot of history, Justin. I can't pretend that doesn't exist." Rich followed him. "We've been together a long time."

"Do you still love him?" He stopped steps from the door and turned to face him.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything."

He blinked back at him. "It 'doesn't mean anything'? Are you serious?"

"Just because I never stopped loving him doesn't mean I want to be with him."

"No, but kissing him does."

"That was a mistake."

"Which time?"

"Both, okay?," Rich gasped. "I shouldn't have done it the first time, and I should have known better today."

"But you didn't, so that means what?"

"It means you can trust me when I tell you it's over."

"And what do I do with the fact that you never intended to tell me about it?"

"That's not true."

"The first thing you did when I walked in here was lie. If I hadn't seen you would you have told me?"

Rich dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Do you still want to be with me?"

"Yes." His eyes came up and he stepped closer. "Of course, I do. I know I have a lousy way of showing it lately, but James isn't the one I want." Rich rested a hand against his face, and he let him. "It was just a stupid kiss, and a stupid mistake. I can't even be sure James is telling me the truth about being sober. I won't know for sure unless I let him move back in, and I'm not prepared to do that. He had his chance." Rich moved closer. "I'm sorry, Justin. Really."

"So am I."

"Will you stay? Please? Let me make it up to you." Rich leaned close and kissed him. "Please?" He mumbled to his lips.

"Not tonight."

Rich scowled back at him for a moment. "Angry sex can be really good."

"Not this kind of anger."

Rich nodded and let his hand slide away.

"I didn't want to be 'that guy,' but you're not leaving me any choice. You need to choose: me, or James. If I can't trust you to stay away from him, then we can't do this anymore."

"'This'?"

"This thing where I hope I'm not wasting my time with you."

"I want you, not him."

"Then I don't want you to see him anymore." He ground his teeth at the petulant, jealous way it sounded. "I hate this. Damn it, Rich why can't you just grow up. You're not a kid. If you're done with him then pick up the phone and tell him. If you can't keep your hands to yourself when he's around, then don't see him anymore. It's as simple as that." He yanked the door open. "You know what? I take it back. It's not like we're serious. Do whatever you want, but I'm telling you right now I won't play this game anymore." he stormed out.

Rich didn't run after him, and he didn't know what to make of that. He was either smart enough to know it would only lead to a very public argument, or he was too tied up in James to stomach the ultimatum. The truth was he desperately wanted Rich to fight for him, and from where he stood Rich wasn't putting up much of a fight.

He stomped up the street and bypassed the bus stop in favor of burning off the frustration. It worked, but it didn't make him feel any better to trade anger for heartache. He was pretty sure they were over, because he didn't expect Rich to walk away from a man he'd been failing to leave behind for fifteen years. He couldn't even have lunch with the guy without kissing him. It bordered on hopeless.

Chapter 32

"Wait, what happened?" Justin scowled across the room the next day with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

"Craig's moving out," Liam repeated, sounding somewhere between annoyed and panicked.

"Why?"

"He dropped out of school to go on tour with the band. He's leaving next week."

"His parents must be thrilled."

"Probably not, and it means I'm going to end up with a new roommate. I don't want to go through this all over again." Panicked won out over annoyed.

"It's going to be ok," he soothed. "Take a breath."

Liam sighed into the phone. "I don't have time to hang out all day interviewing roommates."

"You do on your days off, and just think: this time you're the guy choosing the new roommate. You can be a little picky about it if you want."

"How will I know if any of these guys are decent? I could end up with someone who eats all the food and steals all my stuff."

He smiled. He knew what Liam really meant. He was afraid he'd end up with another guy like Cord, who would find a way to railroad him into a nightmare even if it was as blatant as sneaking into his room at night and raping him.

"You can always move out, but that place is pretty nice."

There was a clause in his lease that if one roommate moved out the other could break their lease and leave at the same time, but for what Liam could afford he wasn't going to find anything better than that place. Not without going all the way down to Surrey or out to Chilliwack, and that was a long commute into the city every day. It also wouldn't resolve the issue of finding another decent roommate. He was better off staying where he was.

"I don't want to leave I just don't want a new roommate."

"You could get references."

"Of people willing to lie for them? Yeah, that'll help," Liam muttered.

"Tell you what. Why don't I meet you after work tonight and we can talk about it."

"I don't get off until ten."

"That's ok. I don't have work tomorrow."

"What about Rich?"

"Don't worry about Rich. He can stand to be alone for one night."

He hadn't talked to him about the blow up last night. Liam had enough of his own problems. He didn't need to hear about his rapidly failing relationship.

He had several hours to waste after his shift ended, so he wandered to a cafe within sight of La Meilleure, grabbed a bite to eat, had some coffee, read the paper, and got nice and bored. He could have gone home and changed, but he wasn't in the mood to sit around an empty apartment waiting for time to pass.

Liam finally appeared at a little after ten, looking tense and worn. Six hours on his feet accounted for the worn. He didn't need to ask about the tension. It had been weeks since he'd seen him that wound up, and he wrapped arms around him in a brief hug, hoping to soothe it a little.

"Thanks for your help," Liam said as they headed for the Skytrain.

"No problem. I didn't have anything to do tonight anyway."

Liam twitched a smile.

They rode the train, hopped a bus, and walked a couple of blocks to the house in the dim light as streetlamps illuminated the drizzle. They kept their voices down as they descended the concrete steps, not wanting to wake the sleeping landlords above. Liam pushed the door open and they stepped into the warm coziness of the living room.

"I'm going to make some coffee." Liam shrugged out of his coat and suit jacket and wandered into the kitchen. "Want anything to eat?"

"No thanks. I already ate." He followed him.

"I'm starving." Liam tugged open the refrigerator and pulled out a container of cold macaroni and cheese before tucking it in the microwave.

Justin let Liam focus on food while he set up the coffeemaker. It was good to see him eat like a normal person. There were no more salads and diet soda. He ate what he wanted when he wanted, and as a result had put on at least ten pounds since he'd left Cord. The scrawny waif had disappeared. He looked good with the added pounds. He looked good with the perpetual smile that was noticeably absent that night. He looked good period.

"So, how do you want to handle the roommate issue?" He leaned against the counter listening to the coffeemaker sputter as the rich warm scent of coffee filled the room.

"To be honest, I don't." Liam leaned on the opposite counter and shoveled a forkful of reheated pasta into his mouth, chewing for a moment. "But I guess I don't have much choice. Even if I get extra shifts every week I couldn't afford this place on my own, and if I move out it's going to be the same problem. I won't have any idea what I'm getting into until it's too late."

"Maybe rather than opening it up to the masses online, we do what we did last time, and see how far word of mouth gets us. You can let the restaurant staff know and I'll tell my team, and we'll see what happens."

Liam swallowed, another bite hovering near his mouth. "I don't think I have a choice. They're going to put an ad in regardless." He nodded toward the ceiling and took the waiting bite.

"I guess that means you'll just have to take a chance the same way you did with Craig."

"I know. That's what bothers me."

Liam emptied the container, rinsed it in the sink, tucked it in the dishwasher, and unearthed mugs from the cupboard. Then they took their coffee to the living room and settled on the couch.

"Where is Craig, by the way?"

"Rehearsing with the band."

"Does this mean there's an album out?"

"Yeah, their first."

"Getting much attention?"

Liam shrugged. "As much as a local band ever gets. It's not like you hear them on the radio. That's why he's touring. He doesn't just want to be a local band."

"Sounds like an expensive marketing technique."

"It's kind of his dream. He wants to be the next Nickelback." Liam twitched a smile.

"What's the band called?"

"True Gravy."

He grinned. "Somehow I can't imagine that ending up in the Top 40."

"It's no worse than Smashing Pumpkins," Liam shrugged."

"No, I suppose not."

They drank coffee and talked about music and Craig's dream of superstardom. It was a comfortable easy conversation, but then it had always been like that with Liam. They could talk for hours, the conversation flowing from one topic to the next.

"Thank you for helping me with this." Liam told his mug sometime later. "You're always there when I need you." He flicked a glance to him. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd had to do all of this on my own."

"That's what friends are for."

Blue eyes came up from his coffee. "Not any of the ones I've ever had. You saved my life that night at the hotel, you know."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would," he said, intensity gathering in his expression. "I wasn't kidding when I said I was going to kill myself. I had it all planned. That bastard would have found me hanging from the top of the shower door."

Tears no longer pooled in his eyes when he talked about that night. It was anger, and Justin couldn't blame him. Liam had moved on a little, but the nightmare still existed.

Somewhere out there Cord was hiding under a rock, churning out kiddie porn and ruining other kids' lives. Liam had given a very disturbing statement to the police, but even with a pile of damning evidence, he didn't know how far the investigation would get. Cord was a small fish in an exceedingly ugly pond. He was pimping out homeless teenagers for profit, but other men were doing the same thing to six-year-olds. He didn't think Cord was high on the list of priorities. Seeing him behind bars wasn't high on Liam's either. On his bad days, he wanted to beat him with a tire iron. Most of the time he was happy just to never see him again.

"I'm glad you didn't." He rested a hand on Liam's knee and the conversation died.

There was nothing more to say. They'd been over it already. Liam twitched a smile and took a drink of coffee, but his gaze never left him.

"You mean a lot to me, Justin."

"You mean a lot to me, too."

He knew where this was going. He could feel the sparks of attraction and desire popping around them like fireworks. Quiet moments always led to that, and for weeks, it had been his habit to change the topic or find an excuse to wander somewhere else in the room before it went anywhere. That night he couldn't find a reason to stop it. Liam leaned closer and he let him. Soft warm lips pressed to his sparking the same burst of desire he'd felt the last time. He wanted to push Liam back on the couch and devour him one tantalizing bit of skin at a time, but he didn't move. This was Liam and he required a much gentler touch, so he drifted in a languid kiss and let Liam decide when he was ready to break it.

One more time Liam stared at him, this time from inches away.

"I can say 'I'm sorry' if you want but I don't think I'd mean it."

"I don't think I would either," he admitted, his heart still pounding.

"What about Rich?"

"I don't know," He shook his head and Liam sat back.

"Are you guys ok?"

"I don't know that either." He twitched a smile. "Things are a little complicated right now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok." He waved it off. "I guess I'd rather have this happen when things are still new."

"Is he cheating? I'm sorry." Liam shook his head. "That's none of my business."

"Let's just say his past is coming back to haunt him."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It depends on how things turn out."

Liam nodded and they went back to drinking coffee. The unspoken story of his complicated love affair with Rich mangled the desire a little, but not enough. He was in the mood to be reckless. He wanted to go back to kissing and let things spiral out of control, but Liam deserved better than to be used as a distraction. He'd been used enough.

Besides, it wasn't as if Rich had cheated on him. He'd just been sneaking around behind his back with James, kissing over random lunches. It was nothing worse than what he'd just done. Great. Now in addition to being jealous he was a hypocrite. It was time to go home before he went from hypocrite to self-centered bastard.

He got up, and Liam got up with him to walk him to the door. He tugged on his coat and stepped back outside with nothing more than a good-bye hug. It was the smart thing to do, but that knowledge didn't ease the disappointment. He wanted to be close to someone, to let a little affection soothe the sting Rich had caused, but Liam was the wrong person. Instead, he walked alone back to the bus stop through the drizzle.

Chapter 33

Justin was loading dirty clothes into the washer in the laundry room when his phone chimed. He scowled at the display as he poured detergent over the clothes, and let it ring one more time.

"Hi." He picked up just before it rolled to voicemail.

"Hi. I'm sorry I didn't call yesterday," Rich said. "I thought maybe you needed a little time."

"I'm not sure that was the best idea." He closed the lid and leaned against the washer without turning it on. "You let me walk away the other night without an argument, and then left me to think whatever I wanted for a day. I don't think that works in your favor."

"I'm sorry, Justin. I'm messing this up."

"Yes, you are."

"You deserve better than what I've given you, and I don't think anything about this has been fair to you."

"I agree."

"Can we meet tonight and clear the air a little?"

He sighed.

"Please?"

"Alright."

"Thank you."

"Don't make me regret this, Rich."

"I'll see you tonight."

He stared at the phone and the less than encouraging response for a moment before tucking it back in his pocket and starting the washer. There was only one thing he wanted to hear from Rich, and that was a solemn promise that he wasn't going to see or speak to James ever again, because the annoyance had left town and it was over. Anything short of that felt like a waste of time.

He finished the laundry and cleaned the apartment before getting dressed for what might be his final date with Rich. He'd planned to wear ratty jeans and a t-shirt but at the last minute decided to dress up. He was in the mood to make Rich suffer a little, so he put on the button down shirt that set off his eyes, and a nice pair of pants followed by a touch of aftershave.

He rode into the city and took his time strolling to Rich's townhouse. By the time he knocked on the door he was almost an hour later than usual. It didn't matter. He wasn't having sex with Rich that night, so they had plenty of time to talk.

"I was starting to think you'd changed your mind," Rich said as he held the door open, dragging his gaze down his body and right back up again. "You look great," Rich offered as he stepped inside.

"Thank you."

"How about some wine before dinner." Rich led him further into the house.

"If you'd like." He wandered to the living room and settled on the couch with both arms rested across the back doing his best to look like an open invitation for something he didn't intend to let Rich have.

It had the desired effect. Rich's eyes were glued to him as he stepped into the room and handed him a glass of red wine.

"Thank you." He took the glass from him and took a sip.

"I, uh, I need to get a few things out in the open," Rich began where he stood.

"Ok."

"And I'm pretty sure you're not going to be happy about them." Rich told his glass, casting glances at him.

Suddenly he didn't feel like playing. "Go ahead."

"There was more to that lunch than just the kiss. I know I should have told you before, but I didn't want to lose you."

He stared back at him. "And now you do?"

"No, but I don't want to have this hanging between us. You deserve the truth."

"Which is?"

"I had sex with James."

It would have been a lie to say he hadn't suspected as much, but that didn't make it sting any less. He set his glass on the table and got to his feet, smoldering anger bursting to life. It wasn't the first time he'd been cheated on by someone not man enough to admit he couldn't keep it in his pants without constant supervision, but that didn't make it sit any better.

"What the hell do you think has changed about the situation that that's not going to mean I walk out?"

"Because I told him about you and that I want to make this work, and in order to do that he and I can't see each other anymore."

"And?"

"And he said he understood."

"And?"

"And it's over. I'm not going to see him anymore." Rich darted a glance at him and took a drink.

The lack of eye contact told him there was more to the story.

"But?"

A long moment of silence stretched out between them.

"But I was with him last night. That's when I told him it needed to be over."

"And by 'with him' you mean you fucked him again."

Rich nodded and he stared back at him while responses tumbled through his head. For an instant, he considered throwing the wine glass at him. Instead, he left it on the coffee table and marched past him to the foyer.

"I'm sorry, Justin. I really am, and I swear to you it's over. It won't happen again. I want you and that's what I told him."

He turned to face him. "That would have meant a hell of a lot more if you'd said it before you'd fucked him...twice. Is that why you didn't call last night? You were too busy proving I'm wasting my time with you. Shit, Rich, you should have just left it alone and let me walk away. I mean, what the hell was the point of this conversation?"

"Justin, please..."

"Call James and tell him your sob story. Let him kiss it better. I'm finished." He tugged the front door open.

"Justin..."

He glared back at him. "It's over, Rich. You wanted him more than you wanted to respect what we had, and that's all I need to know."

"I was an ass, alright? But you and I never talked about being monogamous."

"No we didn't, and I guess it's a good thing because somehow I doubt this would have turned out any differently if we had."

He jerked the door closed in his face, stomped through the entry and yanked open the outer door before slamming it closed behind him just to make his point. He fumed all the way back to the Skytrain, and considered stopping at a bar to drink away some of his annoyance. He wasn't in the mood to sit at home alone and stew over Rich's lies, but he didn't want a room full of drunken strangers either. He wanted Liam and the strength of the craving surprised him.

He wanted to sit on the couch and hold him for a few hours letting those eyes and that smile soothe him, but that wasn't a good idea either. Not in his current mood. He'd take it too far and then he'd hate himself. They both would.

He stepped onto the train, settled into a seat, and glared at the passing lights. He should have known better than to get tangled up with a man who had a history of caving to temptation. Speeches about wanting him didn't amount to much when Rich's actions said he wanted someone else more. He felt betrayed, and the fact that he wasn't sure he had a right to didn't help. Rich was right. His only offense was lying to him about having another man on the side, not that it made him any less angry.

He stepped off the train and marched home to change clothes and flop on the couch to play the bloodiest video game he had. Then he went to bed alone wishing he wasn't.

Chapter 34

Justin sat on the couch the following night with his legs stretched out in front of him. Arms folded across his chest, he stared at the television trying to get into a movie he didn't want to see. He wasn't in the mood, but he also wasn't in the mood to sit at home feeling sorry for himself, so he was there in Liam's apartment trying to pretend he wasn't still pissed.

Liam laughed along with the story as a half-eaten pizza cooled on the coffee table in front of them. That sound was the only thing keeping him from sliding into a mire of self-pity. He'd heard a giggle here and there in the past, but an outright laugh was rare, and he couldn't help smiling at it.

Liam darted yet another glance his direction and picked up the remote to pause the movie.

"We don't have to watch this if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine."

"I have others."

"Go ahead and finish it. It's cute." He leaned forward and snagged another piece of pizza he didn't really want.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" He took a bite.

"Why you're here watching a movie you don't really want to see instead of off somewhere else with a certain someone."

"Because I'd rather be here with you." He shrugged.

The conversation paused for a moment as Liam sat tapping the end of the remote on his leg in a nervous gesture.

"If it's none of my business I'll shut up."

He looked at Liam's curious and almost concerned expression, and sighed before dumping his half-eaten piece back in the box.

"Rich and I are through."

"I'm sorry." Liam offered a pained scowl.

"So am I."

"What happened?"

"He decided he's happier with someone else." He shrugged. "I guess to be accurate I decided he's happier with someone else."

"What do you mean?"

"He hooked up with his ex behind my back."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." He told the pizza. "I wish I could say it was a surprise, but it wasn't. I don't think there's any such thing as over for those two."

"Sounds complicated."

"I guess." He shrugged. "But if Rich can't be honest about what's going on between them then there's no point in us staying together. I wasn't too crazy about the competition, but the lying part killed it." He got up from the couch too angry to sit still as the sting of disappointment crept through him again.

"That's too bad because you looked happy."

"I was."

He remembered those nights at the townhouse laughing in the kitchen over dinner, necking on the couch to music, fucking each other senseless. It had had the makings of a perfect romance with the perfect guy, and now it was over because the perfect guy preferred a lying, thieving junkie.

He shoved the thoughts aside as he got up and tugged his coat off the easy chair by the door.

"Where are you going?" Liam climbed off the couch.

"For a walk. I need to think."

"It's one in the morning."

He glanced around the room, looking for windows that didn't exist in the sunken cave of an apartment, before checking his watch. Liam was right. It was too late to be out wandering around.

"Maybe I should just go home."

"You can if you want...or you can stay here and talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. He lied to me. We're over. That's pretty much it."

"Then we can talk about something else." Liam shrugged. "Like how too many men are selfish pigs."

He twitched a smile. Liam was an expert on the subject.

"Personally, I think we should stick with video games." Liam said. "There's nothing you can get from a man that you can't get from a game box."

"Except maybe the kissing and fucking."

"There's always a price for those." A little of the humor drained from Liam's eyes. "At least the game box is honest."

They hadn't gotten into the details of how Cord had treated him beyond using him to further his career as a slime merchant. Liam had been convinced Cord loved him, but he had no idea how much of it had been denial clouding the truth. All he knew was whenever the subject came up the pain in Liam's eyes went clear down to his soul.

He stepped closer and rested a hand against Liam's face.

"I'm sorry."

"We're not talking about me." Liam shook his head.

"No, but there's no point talking about Rich either. It's over. That's all." He caressed Liam's cheekbone with his thumb. "It's not as if something great died. We never had much of a chance to begin with."

"Maybe not, but you cared about him."

The blue of Liam's eyes grew darker by degrees as they stood a step away staring at each other. He wanted Liam and not just a kiss.

"True, but he's not the only one I care about."

"No?"

"No." He shook his head. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"Me too but should we?"

He second-guessed the assumption that they were interested in the same thing when he saw the doubt tangled in Liam's expression.

"I won't if it makes you uncomfortable." He slid his hand from Liam's face and took a step back wondering where he'd misread the situation.

A few days ago, Liam had been kissing him on the couch without a problem.

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable I just don't want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of things." Liam followed his retreat and rested his hands against his chest. "I don't want you to be sorry." Liam looked up at him, eyes roaming his face, searching for something.

"I don't think I could ever be sorry about you."

Liam smiled and he took his face in his hands and kissed it. Just like the last time, it was warm and wonderful and slow. He let go of Liam's face to wrap arms around him holding him close, feeling the solid warmth against him, smiling at the small pleasured sounds he made.

With Liam in his arms, he couldn't think of a single reason to regret what had happened with Rich. The truth was he'd been a distraction to keep him from pining over a kid he didn't think he could have. He didn't want Rich. He wanted Liam, and he had all along.

Chapter 35

Justin hadn't been nervous about sex in a very long time, but standing near the couch in the silence of the living room he could honestly say he was. It wasn't fear that his technique wouldn't measure up, or that his body was substandard compared to the porn stars. It was that he would do or say something that freaked Liam out.

He wasn't sure there was anything about sex that Cord hadn't turned vulgar and ugly in Liam's mind. There was no telling what years of abuse and coercion had done. He knew Liam wanted him, because he could feel it in his kiss, in the arms wrapped around him, in the caress of hands along his back. It was a good sign, but he could also feel him trembling. As much as he loved the idea of stripping off his clothes and fucking him senseless, he had a feeling that was the wrong approach. He might not be a virgin, but it was probably best to treat him as if he was.

He broke the kiss to trail them along Liam's jaw, exploring new territory and holding him close to soothe the trembling.

"We'll go slow," he mumbled, Liam nodding back at him. "How do you want me to touch you?"

"I don't know."

The words brought his head up to meet an anxious and lustful gaze.

"How long will Craig be gone?" He slid fingers into short, dark hair.

"I don't know that either."

"Then I guess we'd better move this somewhere else just in case."

"Probably,"

He walked him across the living room and into the bedroom with an arm around his shoulders. Then he pushed the door closed and pulled Liam close holding his still trembling body in his arms.

"We don't have to jump into this," he mumbled to his hair. "We can take all night or all week. I'm not in a hurry."

"Can we just do this for a while?" Liam's voice was quiet and small.

"Of course." He kissed his hair.

It didn't take long for sniffles to punctuate the silence, and he wasn't surprised. He didn't expect Liam's first foray into consensual sex to be easy after what he'd been through. Liam held him tight, gripping the back of his shirt in his hands and pressing close as silent tears turned to whimpered gasps.

Liam's eyes and nose were tinged red with misery when he finally brought his head up to wipe at his face.

"I'm sorry," Liam croaked.

"You don't need to apologize." He thumbed tears from his cheek.

"I doubt this is what you had in mind." Liam sniffled.

"It's not far off, actually."

"You planned a romantic night of me wiping snot on your shirt?"

He laughed. "Ok, maybe it didn't look exactly like that, but I don't expect to just fall into bed with you either."

"Would you be disappointed if I said I don't think I can?"

"Can what?"

"Do that anymore."

"Have sex?"

Liam nodded at the floor. He rested a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him back to his chest.

"No, I won't be disappointed. I'm not after your ass. Where you're concerned, I want more than that."

"Like a good blow job?" Liam went back to hugging him.

He could tell by the tone in his voice he was kidding, but he suspected part of him wasn't. He was used to being a plaything. He wasn't sure he knew anything else.

"Like holding you," he kissed his head, "kissing you, and not much else until you tell me you're ready."

"And if I'm never ready?"

"Then I'll be taking a lot of cold showers."

Intense blue eyes found him again. "I'm serious."

He brushed the back of his fingers across his cheek, caressing tiny spikes of stubble. "That might be the case right now, but that doesn't mean it has to be permanent does it?"

"Are you sure you want to bother? I've been fucked by too many people to count. I'm damaged goods."

He held his chin in a light grip to keep him from looking away. "I'm positive. I'm also positive none of that was your fault, and I'm not going to hold it against you."

Liam nodded with fresh tears gathering in his eyes, and lunged at him, diving into a kiss that spoke of clothes torn off and hands everywhere, though he doubted either of those things would happen that night.

"Where do you want to go with this," he gasped as Liam shifted attention to his neck while burrowing hands into his clothes.

"Everywhere."

"I mean bed or floor."

Liam's head came up, his lips swollen from kissing and a deliciously dazed look in his eyes. "I don't know."

"How do you feel about the bed?"

"Ok, I guess."

"We can try the floor if that's better."

Liam scowled at the carpet.

"Kitchen table?" He twitched a smile when Liam's eyes came up, and watched desire leak back out of them a little at a time. "You don't have to go along with this just because you think I want to. There's no more 'have to'. We do what you want, or we don't do anything at all."

Liam nodded at him.

"To be honest, my vote is for nothing at all."

Liam pulled away blinking at him as if the words had stung.

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean I don't see any reason to rush this. I want you, believe me, but I'm more interested in making you happy than getting into your jeans."

Hurt slid to confused. "I'm happy." Liam shrugged.

"I mean about what we're doing. You don't have to put out just to please me."

"I don't think you want me to be a tease either."

"Not if you can help it." He twitched a smile Liam didn't share. "What do you want out of tonight?"

"I want you."

"How?"

"I don't know." The words pinched Liam's face into a scowl. "I want to touch you. I want to know how you feel. I want to be so close to you there's nothing between us, but I don't...," Liam shook his head and dug the heel of one hand into his eye. "I don't think I can."

He recognized the gesture and stepped close to rest a hand on each arm.

"How about a compromise?"

"Like what?"

"Like I take off your shirt," He let go of him to slide hands under his t-shirt resting them against his bare back and pulling him closer. "I kiss everything I come across and we stop there."

"And if you can't?"

"Can't what?"

"Stop there?"

He twitched another smile. "There's no such thing. We stop anywhere you tell me to stop."

He didn't need to wonder which idiot had convinced him there was a point of no return when it came to touching. He doubted Cord and the concept of self-control were on speaking terms. He caressed Liam's back with his thumbs and waited. A little at a time, Liam's eyes slid closed and he melted into the sensation of hands on his skin. He watched his reaction to the minimal contact with fascination and wondered just how long it had been since anyone had touched him without an ulterior motive.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, kissing the side of Liam's head.

Liam nodded, eyes still closed. He slid the shirt up his body and off over his head to reveal an expanse of flawless, hairless skin, and leaned close to kiss his bare shoulder. Liam wrapped arms around his neck and held on, pressing their bodies together. He took the hint and held him close.

"What would you say to a massage?"

"Depends on what kind." Liam mumbled to his neck, his voice slightly muffled.

"The kind where you keep the rest of your clothes on."

"What about you?"

"That's up to you."

Liam slid from his arms, crawled on the bed, and stretched out on his stomach with his head pillowed in his arms. He took that as a "yes" and crawled onto the bed with him, straddling his thighs. He started at his shoulders and worked his way down a little at a time, kneading the muscles and pausing here and there to kiss bits of skin.

When Liam rolled over there was enough heat in his gaze to melt an iceberg, but desire didn't make it past his waist. There was no telltale bulge in his jeans begging for attention. Apparently, he wasn't kidding when he said he couldn't perform.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He rested a hand on Liam's stomach.

Liam didn't answer. He just flowed toward him, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him back on the bed before straddling him where he lay. He rested hands on Liam's denim clad thighs and waited to see what happened next.

"I want to touch you," Liam told him.

He nodded consent, and hands burrowed under his shirt before tugging it up his body. He stripped it off over his head and tossed it on the floor. Liam bent close to kiss and lick his way across his chest. He slid fingers into Liam's hair and closed his eyes, letting Liam go where he wanted. When he ended up back at his mouth, he matched the intensity of a kiss that was hotter than anything he'd imagined, and struggled with the urge to roll Liam under him.

The desire to pin him to the bed and plunder his mouth was building, along with his erection. He wanted to taste every inch of him, but no matter how it felt with Liam pressed to his chest he wasn't getting anything that night, and he held that thought firmly in the front of his mind.

He drifted hands down Liam's bare back and rested them on his ass, giving a gentle squeeze. Liam broke the kiss the moment they settled, and crawled off him to kneel inches away, his chest heaving.

"Are you ok?"

Liam nodded in quick jerks his eyes squeezed shut.

"What?" He rested a hand on his knee and watched as Liam folded arms across his chest and curled forward into a ball, pressing his forehead to the comforter.

A torrent of tears flowed out of him in great, heaving sobs. Something about that moment had been one step too far. He crawled to Liam and wrapped the bundle of misery in his arms, whispering soothing little words to his skin and mumbled into his hair until the tears stopped. He was right. Their first time would have to wait a while, maybe a long while.

Chapter 36

Liam woke to a room bathed in light from bulbs glowing in the fixture overhead. The rest of the apartment was quiet. A glance at the clock told him why. It was barely three in the morning. He lay in the silence, cataloging the sensation of Justin. An arm wrapped around his chest holding him close, and a solid warmth pressed against his back from his shoulders to his knees.

He felt like a childish idiot for crying his way through what was supposed to have been their first time together, but the ache inside had been too big to control. He'd felt the hands on his body and had known it was Justin, but at the same time he hadn't and he'd panicked. Then he'd lost it.

It probably meant he was going insane a little at a time, but he wanted Justin. At the same time he didn't. He wanted him close like this, holding him tight giving him something he hadn't had in years, but he didn't want Justin to fuck him. Not when the mere thought of such a thing made his gut twist.

All he'd ever known was demanding and sometimes punishing sex, where one side got off and the other put up with it. He didn't want to find out that the guy who had always been so nice to him was just like all the others, determined to fuck him like the whore he was, whether he enjoyed it or not. He wasn't sure anything else existed anywhere other than television. All he knew was one more time with one more cock in his ass, and he was going to come apart. He could feel it.

He turned his face to the bed trying to smother the thought. The arm that held him squeezed a little tighter before lips pressed to his bare shoulder. That simple contact reminded him his shirt was off. He was half-naked in Justin's arms and nothing had happened. The realization was almost shocking.

The gentle caress of a thumb across his chest interrupted his thoughts and sprinkled doubt on his theory that there was no such thing as romance. If nothing else, Justin was good at tender, much better than Cord had ever been. He had a difficult time imagining those hands jamming a toy in his ass to make sure he came on command and then fucking him into the bed while he cried.

"Are you ok?" Justin kissed his shoulder again.

"Yeah."

"Good."

He rolled over seeking the face that went with the hands, Justin adjusting his grip to let him move.

"Hi." Justin smiled when their eyes met, a warmth in his expression that turned a flock of butterflies loose in his stomach.

He really did like this guy, the big kind of like, the kind he hadn't felt in a while.

"Hi."

"I don't know about you, but I could get used to waking up like this." Justin drifted a hand down his back.

"Me too."

Brown eyes watched him for a moment, roaming his face. He was used to people watching him. But not like that. There was no lustful smile, no hungry leering like he was the last hot wing at a tailgate party. It was full of warmth and affection.

"You have no idea how many times I imagined holding you like this."

"You did?"

"I think it's safe to admit I've had a hopeless crush on you for a very long time."

"You have?"

"Yeah." Justin smiled. "I never said anything because it would have made things awkward, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"That was probably a wise decision." He nodded imagining his reaction if Justin had confessed that while he'd still been with Cord.

It would have been the last day he would have used Justin's couch as an escape.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

The comment jerked him out of his musing. "No."

He'd heard "hot", "sexy", and numerous comments about his "tight little ass", but no one had ever called him beautiful.

"You need to hang around a better class of people."

"No argument there."

Justin smiled and leaned close to kiss him. He let him, and a burst of heat and anxiety bloomed inside, making his stomach clench. A hand slid down his side and stopped when it reached denim, hovering there to caress bare skin for a moment before Justin rolled him onto his back with gentle coaxing. He huddled over him and kissed a wandering path down his neck to his chest. Hands and lips explored places Cord had never shown any interest, because his mouth, cock, and ass had been the only parts that had ever mattered.

Justin settled at the bud on one side of his chest, licking and nibbling. He pressed his head into the mattress, trying not to squirm away from the unfamiliar sensation, and couldn't help moaning along with it. Justin gave its twin the same attention before heading back up to his neck.

"I love the way you sound." He felt a smile against his skin. "And I love the way you taste."

"Like roast duck?"

Justin laughed, humor eclipsing everything else in his expression when his head came up. "Not even close."

"With all the time in the restaurant, I was sure it had seeped into my skin."

The smile gathered tender affection as Justin caressed a path down his body from his chest to his waist before bending low to kiss his stomach. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Not even in the days before Cord. He wanted more of that. He wanted more of Justin, but he couldn't say what. He wanted to touch and be touched, but he couldn't say where. There was a catalog of things he never wanted to feel again, and he wasn't sure anything else existed. If it did, that's what he wanted. He just didn't have a name for it.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Justin mumbled against his stomach,

"I don't know."

Brown eyes met his again. "What do you not want me to do to you?"

"That's a pretty long list."

"Such as?"

"All the things you probably want to do."

Justin smiled. "Give me a 'for instance'."

"I don't want you to fuck me," he mumbled expecting an argument.

"Ok," Justin nodded. "What else?"

He blinked at the simple acceptance of his refusal to do what he knew Justin wanted to do. That statement had never worked before. It probably meant he was going to have to considered alternatives that would get Justin off without intercourse. There were a lot of them. Scenes and positions crowded his head, things he didn't want to detail, hundreds of porn shoots with hundreds of men violating him at Cord's command. He didn't want to think about it. He pushed the heel of his hand into one eye in frustration with the chaos pouring into his head. Justin held his wrist in a gentle grip and pulled his hand away before kissing his eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. We'll go slower. Can I touch you here if I leave your dick out of it?" Justin rested a hand on the denim low on his belly.

He nodded. "I guess."

Justin kissed his stomach and undid the button on his jeans easing the zipper down. He felt like a virginal idiot, but at the same time, he didn't want a repeat of what had happened earlier. Justin tugged jeans and boxers down his hips and wandered the space just above where a nest of hair used to grow. His heart kicked into anxious pounding as Justin shoved the jeans further down his thighs, revealing the proof of his body's lack of interest in what they were doing. He tried not to clench his hands into fists in anticipation of something he knew he was going to hate, but true to his word, Justin wandered his stomach with lips and tongue, ignoring the cock that ignored him back.

"What's your opinion of rim jobs?" Justin muttered.

"I'm not a fan."

It was on his list.

"If I stay away from that area can I touch you?"

He scowled at the ceiling for a moment. "Ok." He decided and started to roll onto his stomach as the panic threatened to bolt out of his control.

Justin rested a hand on his hip and rolled him back where he'd been. "You don't have to do that."

Justin caressed his thigh, tucking fingers between the mattress and his ass, touching him without making a big production of it.

"Have you considered other ways of doing this?" Justin kissed his thigh.

"Like?" He asked, while his heart kept pounding.

He was surprised Justin couldn't feel it shaking the bed. Maybe he did but didn't realize what it was.

"Like not being the bottom."

He let the idea roll around in his head while gentle hands slid along his inner thighs, taunting him with the idea of spreading his legs without actually doing it. He'd never been the one doing the taking. It had always been the other way around. Nobody paid good money to watch a twink fuck someone else. It was a cardinal rule of porn, or so Cord had said.

"No. I haven't."

"What do you think?" Justin stretched out beside him with his head propped up in one hand while the other caressed a wandering path across his chest.

"I've never tried it. I'm not sure I'd know how."

"I'm pretty sure you would." Justin caressed a spot with his thumb before leaning close to kiss it. "You know the right way and the wrong way to treat a bottom. I think that would make you a very good top."

"Are you saying you'd let me?"

"If you're interested."

He stared back at Justin for a long moment as the thought that he was too good to be true rippled through him. Guys like that didn't exist anywhere other than fairytales. They didn't just show up and sweep you off your feet, but at that moment he felt pretty swept.

"I'd have to get it up first." He twitched a smile and reached out to caress Justin's face, the smile growing when Justin took his hand and kissed his palm.

"That's definitely a pre-requisite. Is there anything I can do to help that won't make things worse?"

"I don't know."

"Is there anything I should avoid doing that's going to make it impossible?"

"A lot of things, actually."

"Is going down on you one of them?"

A flurry of scenes raced through his mind with Cord sucking him off to get him hard in a hurry. The last one also involved a little vibrating toy. He jerked his head back to center to get rid of the image.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Justin leaned close and kissed another spot on his chest, gentle fingers ghosting along his ribs. "We'll just have to find some new erogenous zones." Justin wandered kisses from his neck to his ear making him shiver. "This could be fun." He heard and felt the smile.

It wasn't fun yet. It was terrifying. He felt like a scared, helpless boy having his first almost reluctant sexual experience, while rocking on the edge between giving in to desire and running from it. He'd felt that way in the back of his parents' car before the pleasure of Jason's touch had convinced him to give up the fear. He wasn't as eager now or as curious, because unlike then he knew how bad it could get.

Justin spent a long time kissing his way along his body, running hands the length of him, testing the waters. His body clenched of its own volition anytime Justin wandered toward his cock. It was closed for business along with his ass. The last man to fuck him had been the last man that ever would. It was a shame to have such a sick bastard hold that title, but at the same time, it was fitting. It had all started with a cock he hadn't wanted. It might as well end with one.

He shuddered at the image he didn't want in his head, and dove back into the present as Justin hovered over him, leaning closer and sliding a knee between his legs.

"Is this ok?"

He nodded with short jerks of his head, willing himself not to cry. There was nothing to cry about.

"I won't hurt you. I promise." Justin slid fingers into his hair, brown eyes watching him intently. "I'm not going to do anything that makes that even a possibility, ok?"

He nodded again, lower lip trapped between his teeth to keep it from trembling. Justin paused where he was and leaned close to kiss him with a tenderness that stilled the air in his lungs for a moment. Warmth curled the edges of his fear and he wrapped arms around Justin's neck to keep him there. A little at a time Justin shifted until he was nestled between his legs, still dressed in his jeans, two layers of boxers and a layer of denim between them.

He wrapped his legs around Justin's thighs, trapping him in his embrace and inspiring a smile that spread wide against his lips. Justin didn't comment. He just kept kissing drifting from his lips to his jaw and down his neck.

"I could get used to this," Justin mumbled against his skin.

"What?"

"Having you close." Justin reached back and caressed one of the legs wrapped around him, following it from knee to thigh to ass.

"We're not that close."

"It's enough for now."

"You still have your clothes on."

"Because you haven't told me to take them off yet."

He looked up into an uncluttered expression that went with the simple explanation. There was no annoyance or frustration. Just the same warmth he'd seen all night.

"But if you had your way you'd be fucking me right now, wouldn't you."

"Only if you wanted it." Justin shook his head.

"At least one of us should get off tonight, and it's not going to be me."

"I'm not going to turn this into a one-sided thing."

"Then you're going to have a persistent case of aching balls."

"None of this turns you on?"

He shook his head. "I think we need to face the truth. Cord ruined me. I can't do that anymore."

"I don't buy that."

"You're lying on top of the proof."

"It's a challenge, I'll admit that. I've never tried to get someone off without a blow job or fucking, but there has to be something we can do."

"Like?"

"When was the last time someone gave you a hand job?"

"It's happened," he shrugged.

"Did you hate it?"

"I didn't love it."

"If I promise not to do anything I've ever seen in a porno can I try it?"

He scowled up at Justin and his heart leaped into a gallop. "You watch porn?"

"Not often and nothing you were in." Justin assured him caressing his face. "We'll go slow. I promise."

He nodded, because so far Justin had kept every promise he'd made, but he wasn't looking forward to it. Justin gave him one last kiss and crawled off him.

"Where are you going?" He asked as Justin padded toward the bedroom door.

"Just to the kitchen. I'll be right back."

Justin tugged open the door and disappeared from view. He sat up on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest, his nerve wandering out the door with him. Justin returned a moment later with a bottle of cooking oil.

"If your idea of a hand job is a weenie roast count me out," he said with a lot more humor than he felt.

"I assume you don't have any lube."

"No."

"Now you do." Justin held up the bottle and closed the door.

"We need lube for a hand job?"

"If we're going to do it right, we do," Justin told him as he crawled back onto the bed, eyes riveted to his face. "Are you still ok with this?"

"I guess." He shrugged.

Justin laid the bottle on the bed and crawled to him, resting a hand against his face and settling back into a tender kiss, caressing him and unfolding him a little at a time until they were almost back where they'd been. Justin settled beside him and rested a hand over the front of his boxer briefs were there should have been a pronounced bulge. His body clenched at the touch and he shot out a hand to grip the one rested over his cock.

"Tell me when to stop." Justin laced their fingers and moved both their hands in small circles.

"It won't work," he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

"If it doesn't, it doesn't." Justin shrugged.

He didn't stop him as Justin continued the circular motion with his palm for a few more passes. Then gentle fingers explored the contours of a cock that would have been happier turning itself inside out and hiding inside his body. He tried to distract himself by picturing it until he realized how it would look. His cock would be happier as a vagina. It inspired a small giggle that died before it reached his lips. It wasn't all that funny.

"Are you ok?"

He nodded.

"Can I see you?"

He nodded again, bracing himself for the moment when Justin removed his last bit of clothing. He was both relieved and confused when he didn't. Justin chose to use the opening in the front to coax his dozing cock out into the light, leaving the rest of him covered.

That simple act struck him in a way nothing else had. Cord had never been that careful. Not even the first time. He'd kissed him, stripped him, fingered him, and fucked him in less time than it was taking Justin to get to a simple hand job. A guy this careful wasn't likely to turn into a monster. At least he hoped not.

He clung to that theory as Justin let go of him to twist the cap off the bottle of oil and pour a tiny bit into his hand. Coating his palms, Justin took him in hand again and massaged him, spreading it from tip to root. It wasn't like anything he'd felt before. That was probably the reason it was working. He felt heat gather low in his belly and tingle across his balls. He closed his eyes as it flowed through him, and his cock did a reluctant rise from his thigh.

"Where do you want me to go with this?" Justin asked.

"I don't know." He dug fingers into the sheets.

Justin wrapped a hand around him and started to stroke. His eyes popped open at the first pass. He knew that sensation. Cord always used it in the shower after a shoot, while he invaded a place that had already seen too much action.

"Don't." He shook his head. "Please...don't."

Justin held him, but stopped stroking and instead rubbed at his head with a thumb. Sweat gathered on his skin at the same rate the heat gathered under it. It was excruciatingly slow and he fought the urge to thrust into Justin's hand to speed it up. He didn't want a hand job. He didn't want to fuck. He didn't even want to pretend. He dug the heel of his hand into his eye, groans bubbling out of him as he pressed his head into the mattress. A river of words and scenes tumbled through his mind.

Make it stop. Please. Don't stop. Please don't stop.

He gasped and groaned and whimpered, caught between wanting it to be over and wanting it to carry him away in a flood of ecstasy like he used to feel before he'd figured out everything was a lie.

There had been times when Cord had fucked him and it had felt so good he hadn't minded the porn or the diet or the degradation of strangers violating him on a regular basis. He'd begged for more because under it all he'd been convinced Cord loved him. He wanted that back, but the thought of losing it again terrified him.

Sex was a trap, and he wasn't sure what he was getting into with Justin, but he knew what he'd gotten into the last time. It was a mistake. The whole night was a mistake.

"Please...please," he gasped to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Justin purred.

"Don't." He pushed up from the bed and scooted out of reach before taking himself in hand and jerking off with a frantic motion, determined to get it over with.

He came with an angry groan and sat cross-legged on the bed gasping as he swept away tears with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry," he panted.

Justin scooted closer and rested a hand over the top of one foot just the way he'd done that horrible night, comforting him without crowding him.

"It's ok," Justin soothed. "I know this isn't easy after what you've been through."

He glared at the bed and the mess of cum all over his hand with a sudden burst of anger.

"It's not ok. This is what you have to look forward to. Night after night with a mental case you can't touch because if you do I'll lose it. I can't do this. I can't fuck anymore."

"Look at me." Justin reached up to cup his calf, caressing him with a thumb.

He gave him points for asking rather than forcing him by tucking fingers under his chin and tilting his head up himself. He rolled his eyes up to meet him.

"You aren't a mental case. You've just spent too long around a predatory bastard. Besides, we made a major breakthrough. I don't think that's anything to be upset about."

"What are you talking about?"

"You proved you're not dead below the waist. Your dick works just fine when you approach it the right way."

"Like a stray dog."

Justin twitched a smile. "If you like." He slid the hand along his calf in a gentle caress. "I've spent the last few years sitting beside you on my couch playing video games, talking about nothing and wanting you the whole time. If this means I get to sit beside you on the couch, hold you in my arms and kiss you senseless, I'll take it even if that's as far as it goes for a while."

He stared back him, Justin's face warped by the tears pooling in his eyes.

"I have no idea what you want from me or why you even put up with this."

Justin blinked in surprise. "I thought that was pretty obvious. I want you."

"Why?"

Justin smiled a brilliant smile that lit up his eyes and leaned closer.

"Because you make me smile." Justin kissed him.

Chapter 37

It was a warm spring day complete with sun and singing birds, but Justin couldn't see any of it where he lay on the couch in Liam's apartment. He was occupied with more important things like the feel of Liam's bare chest pressed against his, denim covered legs wrapped around his hips, and a mouth pressed to his as they battled for control of a kiss.

The new physical side to their friendship was only days old, but he'd learned a great deal about Liam in that time. Despite a life ruled by sexual contact, he was starved for affection. He craved kissing and cuddling. Everything beyond that was complicated, so they left it alone.

He hadn't realized how traumatized Liam was until that first night in each other's arms. Days later, he still felt guilty about pushing things as far as he had. A large part of Liam didn't want anything to do with fucking. Years of sexual slavery had taught him to see it as a punishment or at the very least an obligation. He had no idea how long it would take to get past that. In the meantime, their love life resembled something that happened between teenage boys still working up the courage to have sex. They touched. They kissed. They experimented with friction through layers of clothes and he hid the frustration of knowing it would be a while before anything else happened.

They were making slow progress with Liam's libido. There were times when he got aroused while they were rolling around together on the bed. In some cases close to hard but any suggestion of doing something with it took the starch right back out of him, so he'd learned not to make suggestions.

While he was developing a new appreciation for foreplay as a form of sex rather than just a precursor to fucking, it also tested his determination to be a decent man. Hours of touching, kissing, and wanting drove him to the limits of his self-control. When his hands started to twitch with the need to pin Liam to the bed and do things guaranteed to destroy their relationship, he took a break to jerk off in the bathroom, trying to be as quiet about it as possible. He didn't want Liam to feel guilty or worse, obligated, because then he'd force himself to do something he didn't really want to do and it would make a mess of things.

Liam was like that. He'd hate every minute of it but he'd do it just to make him happy. He was a sweet almost selfless kid who would put up with just about anything for a bit of affection. It left plenty of room for a predator like Cord to take advantage of him. Thankfully, those days were over.

A quiet groan bubbled out of Liam as he slopped kisses along his neck and he smiled. "When do you have to be at work?" He mumbled to his skin.

"I don't."

That brought Justin's head up. "Why not?"

"I changed my schedule so we'd have the same days off. That way you don't have to lose sleep just so we can spend time together."

A slow smile crept across his face. "Really?"

"Really."

Had he mentioned he was sweet? He also had a kiss that could reduce a man to a desperate, pleading puddle of need.

"You're a very nice guy, you know that?"

"Sometimes." Liam grinned up at him and they went back to kissing for a moment before he tugged Liam off the couch.

They moved to the bedroom so they'd have more room to play and Liam huddled over him, kissing and licking his way down his body, burrowing into his navel with his tongue. He had a very talented tongue and he made it a point not to think about how he'd developed that talent. Little things like that could derail a perfectly lovely afternoon the same way any mention of sex ruined it for Liam.

He kept the desire to suck him off to himself and rolled Liam under him before gripping him through his jeans, rubbing at the minimal bulge under the denim. Liam squirmed and groaned to the ceiling. He smiled at the sound and kissed a path across Liam's chest ignoring the craving to free the bulge under his hand. Liam wrapped arms around him and pulled him closer, removing the temptation when he pressed their bodies together. He settled between Liam's legs and thrust against him instead.

Liam liked to be close. He could already tell when they got to the point of having sex it wasn't going to be from behind with hands on Liam's hips. It was going to be face to face, holding him tight giving him the intimate connection he'd been denied for so long. It was going to be a big change for both of them.

Sex had always been fun for him. It was a chance to play, explore new territory and let off a little aggression now and then. Nothing was hotter than a good hard fuck, but that wouldn't work with Liam. For him sex was serious business. The craving to pin his hands over his head and change the motion from lazy thrusts to more powerful strokes just to listen to him groan had to be kept in a bottle with everything else. Liam didn't like to be held down. In fact, he didn't like to be dominated at all, so half his favorite positions were off the table and might stay that way. If he wanted to keep Liam, he had to learn to live with that...and he wanted to keep Liam.

Sexual frustration wasn't the only thing in his head lately. He liked having Liam in his arms even if it was just holding him while they watched TV. In fact, he loved it. The highlight of his day was stretching out on the couch with Liam tucked close. He'd never felt that comfortable that quickly with anyone. It was approaching something he wasn't sure made any sense considering the brief amount of time they'd been together. People weren't supposed to use that word to describe something that new but he felt it anyway, even though it seemed reckless. Maybe it was always this easy falling for a friend. He wasn't sure because he'd never tried it before.

All he knew was he wanted Liam every minute of the day, and not just as a craving for something he couldn't have. There were moments when all he wanted was to hold him close. He loved how right they felt when they were wrapped around each other. He had the kid of his dreams in his arms, and all was perfect with the world or something like that.

He rolled off Liam and onto his back to get away from the temptation to take his lazy thrusts a bit too far. Liam followed, and snuggled against him for a moment before he felt lips on his chest. Liam shifted in his arms to straddle him, and he caressed his hair and drifted fingers across his arms, as Liam descended his body kissing a trail along his skin. Then nimble fingers unzipped his jeans and his head snapped up in surprise.

"What are you doing?" He went a little breathless when Liam freed his cock where it strained against the denim, despite his attempts to keep it under control.

"I want to touch you." Liam wrapped a hand around him and began slow lazy strokes.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know." Liam went back to kissing his stomach.

He dug fingers into the comforter to anchor himself while Liam worked his cock with the expert grip all men had. He was hard enough to ache with it, drops leaking on his jeans when Liam let go of him and returned to his mouth.

"You're a sadist," he groaned.

"Maybe a little." Liam smiled hovering over him as he straddled his body. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Only if you want to." he shook his head and reached for his cock to finish the job.

Liam grabbed his hand and stopped him. "Let me."

He watched as Liam crawled back down his body, opened his mouth, and in one fluid motion swallowed him whole. He lost it.

"Oh yeah. Oh fuck yeah," he groaned as he slid down Liam's throat. "I'm going to cum."

Hands held his hips to the bed to keep him from thrusting as he gasped his release to the room. There was no need for it, but Liam finished the job anyway, licking and sucking him for several long moments before letting him slide free. Then he crawled up his body and settled at his mouth, kissing him deep and slow. He slid a hand into his hair to hold him there and kissed him back, struggling against the part of him that was tired of foreplay and wanted to bury his cock in something besides his mouth. The urge was almost primal, sending a shudder through him that had nothing to do with the orgasm.

He ran both hands down Liam's body to his ass, gripping him through his jeans pressing him closer. Liam's head came up with a dazed and bothered expression.

"Was that too far?" Liam asked.

For a moment, he considered lying to him. "A little."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," he let go of his ass to wrap arms around him and hold him close, "but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to strip you out of your jeans right now and make love to you properly."

Making love wasn't the right phrase. He wanted to fuck him good and hard, but Liam didn't want to hear that term. He watched him nod, still wearing the bothered expression as his gaze drifted somewhere else. Liam didn't think making love existed. They'd already had that conversation. As far as he was concerned there was only fucking, and he'd had enough of that to last him the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to show him he was wrong, but not that afternoon.

He held him close and let Liam rest his head back on his chest. It came up again a moment later.

"What time is it?" Liam glanced at the clock before settling one more time.

"I thought you didn't have work today."

"I don't, but someone's coming by to look at the place in an hour."

"I guess that means we need to stop fooling around and tidy up a little."

Liam rolled off him and onto his back with a sigh. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you took the room instead of someone else. Then I wouldn't have to go through this, you wouldn't have to keep making trips across the city in the middle of the night, and we wouldn't have to hide in my bedroom when we fool around."

He rolled onto his side and propped up on one elbow, raising his eyebrows at the suggestion.

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"I don't mean like living together as in living together but, you know, being in the same apartment like we were before. Roommates only we'd both have beds this time instead of one of us on the couch."

He didn't have any real attachment to his apartment in Burnaby. He was rarely in it anymore except to sleep, because he spent most of his free time in Liam's arms. He only trudged back to his own bed to keep things from hurtling ahead too fast. Living together would save him rent money and sleep, but they would be jumping into the deep end of things, and he wasn't sure that was a good idea. He couldn't think of a real reason not to do it, but convention said you didn't move in with a guy you'd just bedded for the first time a week ago. Besides, Liam had been through a lot lately. He needed time to adjust, even if he didn't think he did.

His stunned silence drained the enthusiasm out of Liam. "It was just a thought."

"It's not that it doesn't sound great, but we'd need to seriously consider it before doing anything like that. I don't know that we're ready to live together."

"Why not? We did it before."

"Because things are different now."

"So?"

"Don't you think that's moving too fast?"

"No. I mean it's not like we haven't lived together before. We already know we can share an apartment without killing each other, and it's not like we wouldn't each have our own space. When we need a break we sleep alone."

He was right. Nothing about their relationship followed a traditional pattern, but the idea still made him nervous. This was one love affair he didn't want to screw up. He decided to nudge the subject in a slightly different direction.

"If we did that it we wouldn't have to stay here, you know. We could consider a place with windows or something, and maybe take some extra time looking around to find the right one."

Liam brightened a little. "Only if I can afford it. I need to pay my share."

He smiled and leaned close to kiss him. "Good point."

"Is that a 'yes'?" Liam slid fingers into his hair.

"That's an 'I'll think about it'."

"I'll take it." Liam pulled him back for another kiss.

If he was lucky he could hold Liam off with that idea for a few months, maybe convince him to run out his lease with a new roommate to give them enough time to find something else. It was a theory anyway.

Chapter 38

Justin stepped outside to the dwindling bustle of people wandering the sidewalk in the gathering darkness. With his overcoat draped over one arm, he joined them in their trek toward buses and trains. The sound of his name stopped him in mid-step and he turned to see Rich standing just outside the employee entrance, looking hopeful.

It had been more than two weeks since he'd seen him. Thanks to Liam, the disappointment wasn't still clinging to him, even if the annoyance was. He'd chalked it up to a learning experience and tried to see Rich as more of an addict than a fool. It didn't always work. He'd imagined him picking up where he'd left off with James in their familiar if not happy relationship, and wondered if he was ever going to learn his lesson. He hadn't expected to find out.

"Hi." He took a step closer to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Hoping you'd be willing to talk."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"James is gone. He went back to Calgary."

"Ok."

"It's over...for good this time. He only wanted me back so he could hit me up for a loan." Rich twitched a smile. "I made a mess of us, and all he wanted was money. I should have known better."

He didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything.

"I should have treated you better."

"I agree but it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Does it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. Just have a cup of coffee with me. I'll do the talking."

"I need to get home."

"Please?"

It wasn't the pleading in his voice or the desperation on his face that changed his mind. It was the notion that Rich was going to keep popping up out of nowhere until he let him explain.

"Fine," he sighed. "Meet me at Tully's down the street. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

He nodded and watched Rich walk away. He made a show of checking e-mail on his phone but he already knew there was nothing that needed his attention. He was just stalling so he didn't have to make the awkward silent walk to the coffee shop with Rich. He had nothing to say to him and he wasn't in the mood to offer sympathy over James. That mess was no longer his concern.

He started walking once Rich disappeared into the coffee shop, and by the time he stepped inside Rich was already settled at a table near the back. He slid into a chair across from him without bothering to stop at the counter to place an order. He wasn't staying that long. He had plans to go over to Liam's apartment and have dinner waiting when he got home. Liam wasn't the only one who could be sweet.

"You're not getting anything?" Rich nodded at his empty hands.

"No."

"Fine. I'll just get right to it. I made a mistake, a big one, and I want you to know I'm sorry. I never should have let you go."

"I appreciate that."

"I know it's asking a lot after what I've put you through but...I'd like another chance. I can be better to you. I want to show you what we should have had the first time."

"I appreciate the offer but I don't think so."

"Don't we deserve a second chance?" Rich reached across the table and rested fingers against his hand.

"Even if I believed it wouldn't happen all over again the next time James showed up, it's a little late. I'm seeing someone else."

Rich blinked back at him and leaned back in his chair, his fingers sliding away. "Is it serious?"

"Serious enough."

"That was fast." There was a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"It's just one of those things."

"So all this talk about what I screwed up between us was just talk?"

"You have no right to be pissed about this, Rich. Not after what you did."

There was a pause while Rich scowled at the table. "No, I guess not."

"The truth is this guy has been around a while, but the timing wasn't right because we were both seeing someone else. That's not the case anymore."

He let that grain of truth settle into Rich's head and watched it drain the last of the smug condescension from his expression. They'd both had chances to fuck someone else behind the other's back. Only one of them had, even if loyalty to Rich hadn't had anything to do with why he hadn't fallen into bed with Liam. He wasn't giving Rich an accurate picture, but he didn't care. Rich deserved to feel a little guilty.

"Then I guess I'm too late."

"Yes."

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry."

"I appreciate that." He got up from his chair. "Good-bye, Rich."

"Good-bye."

He walked back out the door and headed for the Skytrain without looking back. There was nothing in that little coffee shop that he wanted anymore. Instead, he rode to Liam's quiet neighborhood and walked the two blocks to his apartment, letting himself in. He left his overcoat draped over a kitchen chair, shrugged out of his suit jacket, and rolled up his sleeves to start cooking dinner.

By the time Liam got home the place smelled of pasta and sauce, a pan of baked spaghetti big enough to keep them fed for a few days tucked in the oven.

"Hi." Liam walked through the door and into his arms for a kiss. "It smells great in here."

"I hope you're hungry."

"Starving." Liam stepped back out of his arms to unfasten his cummerbund and tugged the shirt out of his pants.

"Let me do that." He stepped closer and untied his bow tie before taking his time undoing each button on his shirt watching the humor and affection play across Liam's face.

"I guess it's a good thing you're not here when I get dressed in the morning or I'd never make it out the door." Liam smiled. "A button an hour isn't an impressive technique."

"True."

"I'm not sure I'd mind."

He slid the shirt off Liam's body and leaned close to kiss his bare shoulder. Something about seeing Rich and spending even those brief moments thinking about what they'd had together made him realize how different things were with Liam. It was easier, more comfortable. Of course, they had a lot more history, even if it was only countless hours playing video games. He smiled at Liam, warmed by the thought, took his face in his hands and kissed him.

"A guy could get used to coming home to this."

"Yes, he could." He smiled back and let him go. "Go get dressed. I'll get the plates." He gave his ass an affectionate swat as Liam walked away.

He was right. A guy could get used to this.

Chapter 39

Justin was putting spaghetti on plates when Liam reappeared in a long-sleeve t-shirt and sweats.

"This looks really good." Liam slid into a chair at the tiny dining room table wedged into one corner of the kitchen.

He picked up a fork and blew steam off a pile of pasta and cheese.

"How is it?" He settled into the other chair.

"Tastes as good as it looks," Liam said washing it down with a drink of water before taking another bite.

He let him eat while his mind drifted to Rich. He'd never had anyone beg him to come back. He'd always imagined he would feel vindicated having a jerk admit they should have treated him better, but he didn't feel anything. Of course, he'd never had something better waiting for him when the jerk demolished the relationship either.

"You ok?"

He looked up and saw Liam watching him.

"Fine." He twitched a smile. "I ran into Rich today."

The eyebrows slid up Liam's forehead. "How did that go?"

"He asked me out for coffee."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'yes'." He shrugged. "He begged me for a chance to talk. What else could I say?"

"When are you going to meet him?" Liam took another bite.

"Already did."

"What did he say?"

He recounted the conversation, Liam nodding along, flicking occasional glances to his plate to spear another bite.

"He got mad when I told him there was someone else."

"He has a lot of nerve."

"That's pretty much what I told him."

"Do you think you want to see him again?" Uncertainty gathered in Liam's expression and he started pushing food around on his plate, his cheerful mood drifting away.

The question surprised him. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," Liam told his plate with a shrug. "Because you want more."

"Why would you think I want more?"

"I saw how happy you were when you two were together. You deserve that."

"You don't think I'm happy with you?"

There was a pause punctuated by another shrug before Liam answered. "You deserve someone who isn't so messed up in the head you can't even fuck him."

He rested a hand on Liam's knee. "If that bothered me, would I look forward to coming over here every night just so I can spend time with you?"

Liam twitched a glance up from his plate.

"Would I make you spaghetti and tell you to hurry up and finish eating because I want to get to the part where I sit on the couch with you in my arms?"

A tiny phrase floated through his head bouncing off his skull before drifting down to his tongue. He wasn't sure it would make Liam happy, but it needed to be said.

"If it bothered me that we don't have a traditional sex life, would I be sitting here with my hand on your knee telling you that you make me happy and I think I'm falling in love with you?"

The eyebrows crept back up Liam's forehead, his gaze drifting up from his plate at the same rate and for a moment, he stared in silence.

"You what?"

The only thing on his face was surprise, so it was impossible to tell whether a repeat of those words would upset him or thrill him. Cord had mangled the concept of love into an ugly, unrecognizable thing and used it to blackmail him. He might not like it any better than he liked sex.

"I said I'm falling in love with you." He scowled back at Liam waiting for the reaction.

"You are?"

"I am." He nodded.

"Really?"

"Really." He waited through another moment of silence. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to have your head examined."

He twitched a smile. "Seriously. What do you think?"

"I think I don't understand why. I think that maybe you're making a mistake. I think that's the first time anyone has ever said that to me."

Now it was his turn to be surprised. "He never told you he loved you?"

They didn't use Cord's name. He'd been reduced to a pronoun.

"He said he loved me, but he never came anywhere near saying it like that."

"I guess it's just as well. He wouldn't have meant it."

Liam shook his head. "He never meant anything...except maybe the part about liking my ass." Liam's face folded into a deep scowl, the look he usually got right before the heel of his hand went into his eye.

"This isn't about him." He caressed his knee to get his attention. "It's about you and me, and why I have no interest in going back to Rich when I have you. I don't care that things aren't perfect in bed. They don't have to be."

He'd told him all this before, but some things were worth repeating a few hundred times until they sank past his history of abuse and rejection.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why don't you want to live with me?"

The words hit him like a slap.

"That has nothing to do with not wanting you."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm afraid."

The eyebrows went back up Liam's forehead. "Of what?"

"That we'll move too fast, things will come apart and I'll lose you. It's ridiculous." He held up a hand. "You're right, because it's not like we haven't already been there. I just don't want to rush things."

"How would it be rushing things?"

"Because you don't go from your first night together to moving in in less than a month, unless you want to set yourself up for a disaster."

"You might when you've known each other as long as we have."

He ran a hand down Liam's leg to his calf and lifted his foot off the floor carrying it with him to rest it in his lap as he sat back in this chair.

"And?" He coaxed as he caressed his foot, willing to let Liam talk him into it.

"And it's not like really living together. We'll be roommates with our own rooms and the added benefit of being able to sleep in the same bed when we don't want to be alone."

"And?"

"And I'm scared too, but I'm willing to try it."

"I really don't want to lose you."

Liam smiled. "Me either."

He smiled back. "You're beautiful when you smile."

The expression grew to a bashful grin.

"Come here." He let go of his foot and scooted his chair back from the table.

Liam straddled him where he sat and sank onto his lap. He slid hands under Liam's shirt to caress warm skin as he kissed him. Night after night of nothing but foreplay had taught him not to bother with fantasies, so he left visions of the many ways he could take Liam in their box. He floated in the taste of Liam and pasta, and shoved the t-shirt up Liam's body before breaking the kiss to tug it over his head. Then he turned his attention to his bare chest, kissing and licking a path across his skin.

Liam pushed away from him and stood offering his hand. He took it and followed him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom. They stopped at the end of the bed and he dove into a kiss, sliding a hand down Liam's body to grip his ass through his sweats. Liam pressed hands to his chest and pushed away, breaking the kiss and his hold. For a moment, he thought he'd done something wrong until Liam tucked thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and shoved them down his body.

Liam stood naked with cotton pooled at his feet, and his eyes several inches from making contact, darting glances at him while he stood in stunned amazement, wondering what it meant. Liam's chest was heaving in anticipation of something and the look on his face said it wasn't something he expected to enjoy, grim determination burrowed into his forehead. He reached out and pulled Liam close with a hand on the back of his neck before wrapping arms around him. He caressed his back and kissed his shoulder keeping his hands above Liam's waist.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know." Liam shivered in his arms. "Nothing...anything."

He gave him a squeeze and let go to sit on the edge of the bed holding Liam's hand. Liam followed, crawling past him to stretch out on his back lying stiff with arms at his sides. He took the hint and crawled to him starting a trail of kisses at his shin and slowly working his way up.

He'd learned his lesson from their first disastrous night together. Liam's history was irrelevant. If he was going to get anywhere at all, he had to treat him like the virginal boy he'd been before Cord had gotten his hands on him. The porn star was dead, and all that was left was a kid who had no idea what love was or how good sex could be with someone who didn't see him as an object to exploit.

He kissed his way up his thigh, caressing him as he went and skirting around his wilted cock to his hipbone. Something had changed in the time since he'd last seen Liam naked. What had once been a pristine, hairless expanse of skin now had a covering of dark stubble. His groin no longer looked like the childlike version Cord had marketed to a world of perverts. It meant he'd finally stopped using the depilatory cream. The realization that Liam was reclaiming his own body one rebellious step at a time made him smile.

He caressed Liam's hip and continued a wandering path to his chest. He stopped when he reached his face, straddling him where he lay looking small and scared. The sporadically confident and sarcastic guy had mutated into a kid right before his eyes. He rested a hand against Liam's face and pressed a tender, chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Liam nodded.

"No cameras. No porn stars. No fucking. You're safe here."

Liam stared back at him with his lips pressed into a tight line to keep his chin from quivering, a rumor of tears in his eyes.

"I want you to touch me," Liam mumbled in a near whisper.

"We don't have to do this."

"I know." Liam nodded. "Just touch me."

"Where?"

"My dick." Liam spread his legs.

"Are you sure?"

More nodding. He crawled back down his body feeling very overdressed, and stopped to tug off his shirt before kneeling between Liam's legs. He held him in a gentle grip, watching his face as Liam stared at the ceiling, a single tear breaking free and sliding across his skin. He bent low and kissed the head of his cock starting a trail that traveled its wilted length. Then he stopped to kiss the patch of newly grown hair at its base.

If Liam was determined to do this, then he was going to make it a point to touch him the way no one else had. He caressed his balls with gentle fingers and saw Liam shudder. Then he abandoned his cock to kiss and lick a path along one thigh. In the near silence of the room he could hear Liam swallowing tears, and kept one eye on what he was doing and one eye on Liam's face.

"I want you." Liam whispered.

"Where?"

"Inside."

He scowled up the bed at him. "Are you sure?"

"No."

"Then why don't we wait?"

"Because it won't matter how long I wait."

He wasn't going to fuck Liam even with his permission when it was obvious he wasn't ready. He was trying to prove something and he had no idea what.

"Why don't we give it a little more time?"

"Please."

He sighed. What was he supposed to do with begging tear-filled eyes? He kissed him trying to dispel some of the tension.

"Just do it." Liam brought his knees up and planted his feet on the bed in grim determination.

"Not like this." He shook his head. "The whole point of be being inside you is to show you there's an alternative to the hell he put you through, not just to prove you can stand it. I want you, Liam but not like this. Not when you don't really want it."

"I don't want to stop here." Tears slid down Liam's face.

"Why?"

"Because I want it to be over. I don't want this shit in my head anymore. I want you to just do it."

"That won't help."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. You're too tight." He stroked his cheek with a thumb. "All I'd do is hurt you. Besides, even if you were in a better place in your head and I could fuck you without hurting you, it wouldn't erase what happened."

The heel of one hand pressed against Liam's eye, and he kissed the space over his other eyebrow. "Look at me,"

Blue eyes opened again.

"This doesn't prove anything, and not fucking you doesn't prove anything either. I'm not going to be any less in love with you if we don't get to this for a while."

Liam wrapped arms around his neck and cried against his shoulder. He pulled him into his lap and held him, wondering how much of his refusal to move in together was responsible for Liam demanding they do something he wasn't really ready to do. He was pretty sure he knew the answer and he didn't like it.

Chapter 40

Liam trudged down the street coaxing himself toward the apartment one step at a time. Last night had been exhausting, and all he wanted to do was go to bed. He was too tired for television, dinner or anything else.

He was also frustrated with himself for crying all over Justin again. The routine was getting old, and he knew Justin felt the same way even if he didn't have the nerve to say so. The proof was in his reluctance to live together.

Despite Justin's excuses, he didn't think it had anything to do with him being afraid they were moving too fast. It was something else, and that something else had inspired Justin to force him into that apartment in the first place. He'd wanted him off his couch and out of his hair. He would have assumed Justin didn't want him at all, but the time they spent holding and kissing each other said he did. Last night's confession that he was falling in love with him only made the whole thing more confusing. He didn't understand what was holding Justin back other than their joke of a sex life.

He'd thought he could fix it by letting Justin do what hundreds of other guys had done before, but it hadn't worked. Something in him was broken. Even his internal pep talk that it would only be one time in one position hadn't worked. It didn't matter that he felt more for Justin than he ever had for Cord. He didn't have the ability to fuck anymore. He didn't want to feel that sensation ever again, and unless Justin was willing to hold him down and do it anyway he didn't know how they were going to get past it.

His feelings for Justin had grown right along with his humiliation last night when he'd refused to do what every other guy had done with a hell of a lot less coaxing. He was different from anyone he'd met since the day he'd found Cord, and that was a significant population of bastards. He wanted to keep him but he didn't know how.

As if the humiliation of crying like a stupid little kid hadn't been bad enough, he'd had nightmares all night that Cord had found him and dragged him back to the old apartment to fuck him with a pool cue on live television. He hadn't slept more than two hours. He was an exhausted wreck in addition to being a pathetic mental case, and he didn't know how to fix any of it. He was going to lose Justin before this was over and he'd have no one to blame but himself.

He pushed open the apartment door to the smell of chicken. Somewhere inside he knew he was hungry but all he felt was exhaustion.

"Hi," Justin greeted him with a smile. "How did it go today?"

"Fine." He pushed the door closed.

"I made chicken."

"It smells good but I'm too tired to be hungry."

Concerned brown eyes roamed his face for a moment before Justin stepped close and wrapped arms around him. He rested his head against Justin's chest and closed his eyes. He loved those arms. It was the only place he ever felt safe. He had no idea what he would do when Justin left him. He wasn't even sure what he was going to do when he ended up with a new roommate and they didn't have the run of the place anymore. He'd rather go back to sleeping on Justin's lumpy couch than dealing with a stranger in the apartment. He hated the thought, but as long as he was a mental case things would stay that way.

"Are you ok?" Fingers slid into his hair caressing his head.

"Just tired." He nodded opening his eyes.

Justin let him go and kissed his forehead. He wandered across the room and flopped on his back on the couch. He'd move to the bedroom later. Maybe. He closed his eyes because he couldn't keep them open anymore, and a few moments later felt Justin tugging off his shoes.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

He told himself he should get up and get out of his suit jacket before he wrinkled it. Dry cleaning bills added up after a while, and he didn't have money to throw around on extra trips to the cleaners. He was still stumbling through the lecture when he fell asleep.

He woke to dark stillness with his back pressed to something solid. It wasn't Justin and he dragged fingers across the couch upholstery to verify he hadn't moved since he'd collapsed. He lifted his head from a pillow that wasn't usually there and tugged off a blanket that hadn't been there when he'd fallen asleep. He sat for a moment in the dark before realizing he wasn't dressed either. Justin had stripped off everything but his boxers, and tucked him in bed right there on the couch.

He wobbled to his feet and shuffled out of the living room and into the kitchen before flipping on the light. He blinked and squinted at the sudden brilliance and padded to the refrigerator, driven by the insistent grumbling of his stomach. Tugging the door open, he found a plate piled with roasted chicken, and carried it to the counter, shoving the door closed with his foot and peeling back the plastic wrap. He didn't bother with a plate or utensils. He just grabbed a meaty leg and gobbled it down to the bone while standing over the sink. For a moment, he considered making a sandwich but according to the microwave, it was two in the morning. That seemed an awfully big production for that time of night.

He devoured a breast before pausing to decide whether he was hungry enough for a third piece. The equivalent of almost half a chicken would probably hold him until breakfast. He washed his hands, covered the plate, stuck it back in the refrigerator and pushed the door closed again. He was turning to head to bed when something caught his eye.

A small collection of paper dominated the front of the freezer door, stuck there with a magnet. The heading at the top of the stapled bundle told him it was a lease, one that looked a lot like the agreement he'd signed months ago. Someone was obviously trying to tell him something, because it hadn't been there yesterday. Or maybe it had. He'd been a little out of it.

He removed the magnet and took the pages over to the kitchen table before settling into a chair with a gaping yawn. There was no point leaving the mystery for later. He would just lie in bed wondering what it meant, so he might as well stay up a few minutes longer and figure it out.

He read the dates and scowled at the part that said the agreement began yesterday. His stomach clenched, squeezing the chicken into an aching ball. He put a hand over his belly and laid the pages on the table. This was either the lease for the new tenant or a new one for him because they'd found him a roommate. So much for the idea that he had the final say.

Suddenly he wasn't tired anymore. Fear swirled through him at the thought of a stranger moving in. What if it wasn't a stranger? What if it was one of Cord's rented cocks? He didn't think he could stand sharing the same space with a cookie cutter. Even a guy who just looked like one would make him nervous. He'd spend half his time wondering if they'd ever done a shoot together, and the other half having nightmares about it.

Fear bubbled into anger. They couldn't do this to him! He'd move out before he'd share an apartment with someone he didn't know. His lease said he had the right to break it when Craig had left, and he was damn well going to do it. He'd pack and be out tomorrow...except he had nowhere to go. Damn it, he should have been out looking for a new place while the landlords had been looking for a replacement roommate.

"Are you ok?" The raspy sound of Justin's voice startled him from his thoughts.

"I found this on the refrigerator." He held up the pages with a trembling hand.

Justin padded toward him. "I was going to talk to you about it last night." He settled into the other chair at the table. "What do you think?"

"I don't think it's fair."

Justin scowled at him. "What do you mean?"

"They said they wouldn't sign a new tenant until I had a chance to approve him. I don't even know who this guy is, and they want me to sign a new lease without asking." He slapped the pages on the table.

The scowl eased a little and Justin sat back in his chair. "Read the last page."

He glared at the papers as he flipped to the signature page at the back and read the name. Then he read it again. A little at a time, the words filtered through the fear and anger and he looked over at Justin, who was watching him with uncertainty.

"That's your name."

Justin nodded.

"That's your name." He repeated trying to make it make sense. "Wait. This is your lease?"

"Yes."

He flipped back to the first page and checked the address. It was his basement apartment. Justin was moving in. A weight the approximate size of a baby rhinoceros lifted from his shoulders, flooding him with relief so strong he almost giggled.

"You're really moving in?" The prickle of tears stung his eyes.

"If you want me to."

"I thought you didn't want to live together."

"I changed my mind." Justin shrugged, smiling at him and reaching out to brush fingers across his cheek. "I couldn't think about anything else last night. You were right. There's no reason not to do this. I want to be with you. You want to be with me. We already know we can share the same bathroom without killing each other, so why not." He shrugged.

He flung himself at Justin and wrapped arms around his neck, holding him tight as he climbed on the chair with him. Not only was he not going to have to room with a stranger, he was going to get to come home every night to Justin, share the same couch, share the same bed.

"I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner." Justin kissed his shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you think what I'm pretty sure you thought."

He lifted his chin from Justin's shoulder. "What did you think I thought?" He wiped at his face.

"That I didn't really want you." Justin thumbed tears from his skin with a look of such tender affection it almost made him cry all over again. "I do want you...in my life, in my arms, even if it means we never get past the way things are now. It doesn't matter." Justin rested a hand against his face.

He leaned close and kissed him, because he had no idea what to say to that. That wasn't quite true. He had words, but he wasn't sure they were good enough. It was a useless phrase that meant nothing at all. He put his chin back on Justin's shoulder and told him something else.

"Thank you."

Justin slid fingers into his hair to hold him closer. "You're welcome."

If someone you know is on the street or in a situation like Liam's there is help!

Contact local authorities or the organizations below:

National Runaway Safeline - www.1800runaway.org

The Trevor Project - www.thetrevorproject.org

I hope you enjoyed the story. Stay tuned for more Justin and Liam as the series

continues. In the meantime, please feel free to return to the bookseller's website and

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