Close to Me

BLUE RUIN 2:

CLOSE TO ME

Katrina Strauss

® www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Blue Ruin 2: Close to Me Katrina Strauss This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © April 2008 by Katrina Strauss All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-689-7 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Jana J. Hanson Cover Artist: P. L. Nunn

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One A promise of light filtered through the gauze curtains, the cloudy afternoon haze calling to mind the dim shade of twilight. Blue yawned. Curled beneath satin and wrapped in sumptuous white velour, he rested his head in his master’s lap. His lashes fluttered as he read the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the plasma screen. Long fingers gently threaded his hair, lending him a sense of comfort, while he listened to Derek work one-handed on the laptop propped by his hip. The rhythmic tap of keyboard strokes, combined with the patter of rain beyond the balcony doors, deepened Blue’s trance. If he’d been feline, he would have purred. He’d slept a good deal the past two weeks, he and Derek practically hibernating as they stayed in the loft, just the two of them, ordering delivery and eating in bed. Derek had moved the television closer to the bedroom area, and they’d indulged in a marathon of classic Japanese cinema paired with recently licensed anime. For the first few days, Blue had borne the lingering physical effects of the drugs he’d been given, exacerbated by the aches and pains from the harsh manner in which he’d been restrained. Those faded, giving way to the grim realization of what had nearly befallen him at the hands of his kidnapper, a man who was now dead. Realization made way for acceptance and, finally, relief that it was all really over and that he and Derek were safe -- from their attacker, from the reach of the law, from the world outside. In short, Blue was past recovery mode. But he didn’t think Derek was. “Love you,” he murmured. “Sir…” The keystrokes tapered. Blue felt the legs beneath him shift, heard the sound of Derek clicking the laptop shut and making room for it on the nightstand, and then he was lifted and curled against Derek’s smooth, bare chest. Lips curved against his scalp, and Derek’s shoulder-length mane shimmered around them both in an auburn sheen.

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Derek’s fingers trailed down Blue’s cheek and grazed his chin. “I love you, too.” Blue melted and sighed at the words as they rumbled from deep inside Derek’s chest. Nuzzling closer, he tilted his chin up. Reaching out, he brushed Derek’s hair back behind one ear, thrilling to the silken glide where the strands feathered through his fingers. In turn, Derek touched Blue’s face and swept his bangs back, his chin-length shag dyed cobalt blue save for the natural vein of white he’d been marked with since birth. His vision cleared. Blue peered into his lover’s eyes and found himself enchanted all over again by two gems of lustrous jade, tilted at the corners from what Blue suspected to be an Asian heritage, their almond shape enhancing Derek’s sensual, exotic appeal. In the three months since they’d first met, Derek had never volunteered any details about his parents, and, despite his curiosity, Blue had chosen not to pry. But whoever had contributed to this perfect blending of DNA, Blue wanted to personally thank them. Tucking his chin back down, Blue’s lips brushed Derek’s nipple, the flesh a light shade of olive brown where Blue’s was pink and pierced. The first rule his master had laid down for him, only two short months ago, was that Blue was never to initiate sexual contact -- it was Derek’s authority to determine when, where, and how. Yet as the nub of flesh pebbled at the mere hint of Blue’s breath, he considered subtly luring his master to make love to him again, as the other man hesitantly had a few times since their mutual ordeal. Maybe this time he’d speak up and assure Derek that it was okay to get rough, like it had been in the beginning. Derek should know more than anyone that Blue wasn’t some fragile waif to be easily broken. But it was nice, really, nestled in the crook of his lover’s arms. Blue lost himself in the steady drum of Derek’s heart and contented himself to sleep. He woke later to find it raining still, the DVD player off and the room dark. He rolled over and, for the first time in days, found himself alone in the king-sized bed. Warmth lingered upon the cream-colored sheets, confirming Blue’s suspicions that only when he was fully asleep did the other man sneak away for a few minutes of privacy. Blue burrowed his face into the pillows, inhaling the fragrant scent of Derek’s hair. Absently, he slid his hand between the satin-encased pillows and the wrought iron headboard. With a light rattle of metal upon metal, he toyed with one of the disused wrist cuffs. He traced his thumb down the strap, delighting in the smooth grain of leather, thinking of the way both cuffs cut into his wrists when he strained against them at the height of passion. He gave the restraint a wistful tug, the clink of the chain eliciting a faint stirring of arousal. Blue sighed, wondering if his master would ever use the restraints on him again. Listening to the rain, he gradually grew aware of the steady stream of water coming from the bathroom. Blue slid out of bed and padded across the floor. He cracked the door to the one and only enclosed room in the loft and stepped inside.

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Steam swirled around him. With a tender smile, Blue studied the blurred figure through the shower stall door. He’d initially been drawn to Derek by the man’s lithe six feet two frame, toned but not overly buff, and that amazing mane that now shimmered down the other man’s back as he tilted his head and rinsed his hair. While Blue had stayed with Derek for reasons that extended beyond appearance, he would never tire of looking at that body, his intimate knowledge of every plane and angle only enhancing the sight. As he watched Derek turn around, Blue grew further aroused. He slipped off his robe, the velour pooling to the floor behind him. Homing in, he advanced toward his quarry, his cock lengthening, his grin gone sly. Sometimes it was the master who needed to be reminded of the rules, and Blue was up to the task.

***** Eyes closed, throat arched, Derek stood under the showerhead, enjoying the massage against his scalp as he rinsed the chamomile conditioner from his hair. He preferred showers to baths, but his partner favored the tub and so they’d bathed together accordingly the past two weeks. His old habit finally getting the better of him, he’d waited for the soft, familiar lilt of Blue’s snore before slipping away for a lone moment of luxury. He’d meant to make it quick, so Blue wouldn’t wake without him, but the welcome jet of water against his muscles had coaxed him into staying just a little longer. Now, as the water sluiced down his body and spiraled into the drain, he tried to will the memory -- the terror -- of how he’d nearly lost Blue to be cleansed away, too. He pivoted, redirecting the spray of water to his chest. Head still back, he squeezed the excess moisture from his hair. Startled by the quiet click of the shower door, he hid his surprise at the feel of the firm, slender body easing in behind him. “Blue,” he murmured with a twinge of guilt, “I thought you were asleep…” “I’m awake now.” A hand moved Derek’s hair aside, and soft, plush lips brushed the back of his shoulder. His warmed, wet flesh burned hotter at the welcome puff of breath, its heat sending a pleasant ripple down his spine and straight to his prick. Derek cleared his throat and shifted his hips. “I thought you preferred baths.” “A shower’s fine as long as we’re sharing.” Willowy arms wrapped around him, and a rigid length prodded the crease of his thigh. Slippery fingers teased at his right nipple, while Blue’s dominant hand lighted at the base of Derek’s prick.

Someone’s forgetting the rules, he tried to say, yet any protests on Derek’s part were cut off by the strangled groan that escaped his throat. As the water cascaded around them both, Blue’s soap-slicked palm lathered and worked Derek’s cock as only another man could. Gripping his shaft on the upstroke, Blue squeezed the tip and rubbed his thumb across the

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swollen glans, adding a touch of pressure against the slit, then eased his hold on the downstroke, hitting the thatch of pubic curls before gripping tight and pulling back up. Blue jerked tighter with each successive movement, fast enough to make a pleasant friction, slow enough to torment until Derek threatened to come. The shower stall went dim in a haze of passion, and the dark urges Derek had held at bay the past two weeks rose from his core. In a heartbeat, Derek turned and shoved Blue to his knees. The boy’s firm ass thudded against the floor of the shower with a satisfying splash. Knees splayed, hands between his thighs, the drenched, naked waif gazed up at Derek through plastered hair with subdued and pleading eyes. Blue’s damp cobalt locks slipped through Derek’s fingers like strands of wet silk. He tightened his hold and angled Blue’s face higher. Ensuring his cock had been rinsed of soap, he gripped the shaft by the base and lightly thumped the glans against Blue’s protruding lower lip. “You want this?” Derek leered down at his charge. “Yeah.” Blue flicked his tongue, swirling the flared head with a tantalizing sweep. Stifling a gasp, Derek kept his libido in check and jerked Blue’s head back. “Ask nicely.” “Please.” He thumped Blue’s lip again, harder. “Please, what?” “Please let me suck your cock, Sir.” “That’s better.” With the nagging suspicion that he’d just been baited and snared, Derek slid past those luscious rounded lips, a mouth too pretty to be a boy’s. Blue’s crystal gray doe eyes sparked, and Derek read the smirk there. Why, that little brat… Any insolence was forgiven as Blue’s throat muscles relaxed and, for a brief, intoxicating moment, accepted Derek’s length to the hilt. As Blue’s throat clenched and his eyes narrowed, Derek eased back. Taking care not to gag his partner, Derek pistoned his hips, sliding his cock in and out, delighting in the way Blue hollowed his cheeks to tighten the suction, his teeth scraping the thin sheath of flesh, the metal stud in his tongue working the curved ridge of the shaft. On the brink of release, Derek’s mind was invaded by an unwelcome flash of memory -- Blue, bound and hanging from the rafters of the old, dirty attic, his pants tugged down partway, exposing his drug-induced erection. Denying his pleasure, Derek released his hold on Blue’s hair and jerked away, his cock slick with spit. “Blue, stop,” he gasped. “I can’t…” “Can’t what?” Blue glared in challenge, licking his lips. He stood, his body slipping and sliding up Derek’s, slicing the water between them in rivulets. “Fuck the shit out of me?” he breathed against the base of Derek’s throat. One hand snaked under Derek’s balls, and a single fingertip prodded his entrance. “Or am I going to have to fuck you?”

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Derek snatched Blue by the wrist and jerked his hand away. In one swift, skilled movement, he twisted Blue around and crushed him against the wall, one arm pinned behind Blue’s back, the side of his face pressed against the wet tiles. Derek reached for the conditioner. One of the benefits of overpriced, organic bath goods was that they safely served for more sensitive uses. He squirted a dollop down the cleft of Blue’s ass, then tossed the bottle aside. Fingers curled, he worked the makeshift lube in and out. Blue moaned, his sphincter opening to welcome each chamomile-coated thrust, only to pucker back up and grip Derek’s fingers tight. He traced his tongue down the curve of Blue’s ear, following the trail of piercings from the studded cartilage at the top to the tiny cross dangling from the earlobe. “Such a greedy little ass,” he murmured. Twisting his hand, he scraped the prostate. “Oh, God,” Blue hissed. “Please…” “Please what?” Derek asked, retrieving his hand. “Please fuck me, Sir.” Rising on tiptoe, the boy trembled. Derek braced himself, thighs flexed, knees bent, and pried his cock between the globes of Blue’s ass. Inching past the entrance, Derek clutched Blue’s buttocks and spread them wide. Invading the tight passage with a single thrust, he grunted in Blue’s ear. “Is this what you wanted?” “Yes,” Blue panted, trapped between Derek and the wall, his grimace torn between pleasure and pain. “Yes, what?” Derek demanded with another thrust. He’d been lax with the boy the past few weeks, but he saw now that it was time to reinforce the rules. Blue uttered a sharp cry. “Sir. Yes, Sir.” As Blue’s mewls rose in pitch, his muscles gripped Derek’s cock like a glove. Combined with the slide and slap of steam-slicked flesh against flesh, Derek could take no more. Gripping one hand across the top of the shower door for support, he gave one hard, final thrust and held steady, filling his partner with a hot wash of cum. Blue bucked and ground back against him even as he hissed and clawed at the crevices of the tiles. “That’s…better,” Blue panted, collapsed against the wall. Derek grunted, showing his disapproval of his pet’s irreverence with a light nip of the teeth. Blue flinched, then melted back against him. “Sir,” he added with a weak sigh. Derek grinned, his lips curving against the spot where he’d marked the nape of Blue’s neck in reprimand. Straightening, his cock slipped free. He slid his hand between Blue and the wall, the tiles slicked with cum against Blue’s flat, pierced navel. Easing his partner back, Derek trailed his hands upward and found the boy’s nipples. He teased the silver hoops that adorned the pink flesh, toying with the black captive beads that held the piercings in place. He offered the one on the right a particularly affectionate tug, having pierced that one for Blue himself while a professional body artist had guided him through the delicate process.

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For the first time in two weeks, the horrid vision of Blue bound and captive at the mercy of a monster no longer assaulted his mind. Instead, Derek found thoughts of inflicting pleasurable pain on his willing partner to be an enticing prospect. It was time to reclaim what was rightfully his. As the water went cold against his back, he turned Blue around and let the spray hit the boy’s front side full blast. “Hey !” Blue sputtered, his limbs flailing as he tried to escape Derek’s hold. Chuckling under his breath, Derek reached with his free arm and turned off the water. Once they stepped out of the shower, Derek bundled a shivering, pouty Blue in a thick, plush towel and led him back to bed. Chastised, Blue curled his slender arms above his head and held his wrists in place. Though the compliant manner of the body straddled beneath Derek bespoke submission, he caught the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of Blue’s mouth. The chains rattled and clinked as Derek tightened the leather cuffs and secured Blue’s wrists to the headboard. Yes, his little blue-haired brat was sorely in need of a reminder as to who, exactly, was in charge. And Derek was up to the task.

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Chapter Two Blue stretched naked across the mattress. “Yes,” Derek murmured from behind in approval, “just like that. Nice and tight.” “Am I getting better at this?” Blue asked, teeth gritted. He clawed the sheet, pulling the satin taut. “There’s always room for improvement,” Derek said. His open palm cracked across Blue’s ass; the subsequent smack echoed through the loft. “Eleven.” “You say that every time,” Blue huffed. He started to add that he thought the spankings were up to twelve and that Derek had miscounted, but he opted to keep that information to himself. With a determined tug, he tucked the corner of the fitted sheet under the mattress. “I’m surprised you don’t bounce a quarter off it.” Rising, he turned and caught the folded top sheet that Derek tossed his way. The square of fresh, clean satin thudded against his chest, the weight of the king-sized sheet enough that his erection bobbed painfully. After a week’s worth of rough, intense sex, Blue had made the mistake of mentioning that he missed doing naked housework, and so his master had promptly gotten him hard, slapped on the cock ring, and set him to work -- and on his nineteenth birthday, of all days. Bending over, he snapped the sheet open across the mattress. Derek smacked his ass again. “Twelve.” Blue squelched a yelp as his buttocks flinched and flared, then eased as the heat of the handprint dissipated and warmed his muscles almost soothingly. While he’d grown accustomed to -- and quite enjoyed -- a sound cropping, random spankings applied while he was distracted by a menial chore didn’t allow him to focus on relaxing and absorbing the impact.

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He climbed onto the bed and sprawled his limbs, smoothing out the cumbersome sheet. King-sized beds were fun to fuck in, but a pain to make up. Aware that Derek watched his every move, he purposely spread his knees and tilted his rump higher. He achieved the desired effect. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… Blue thrashed and mewled in feigned protest. Testing the master, he attempted to crawl away. To his delight, Derek wrestled and twisted his arms behind his back, pinning his wrists at his tailbone with just one hand. The feel of his master’s clothes against his bare flesh made for a pleasant physical contrast and, as always, an arousing dynamic that excited Blue to no end. To his dismay, the spankings didn’t stop at nineteen. Blue lost count somewhere around twenty-five, knowing only that he received another five licks after Derek ripped the Velcro cock ring free. Once Derek released his grip, he sat back and commanded Blue to jerk himself off all over the clean sheets. “What…were all…those for?” Blue panted into the pillows, his rump burning raw in the cool air, his cock spent and aching in his sticky, wet hand. “You’re the one who turns thirty in two months.” Soft lips brushed and soothed his chafed skin; silken hair tickled his hips. “I figured you needed a few extra to grow on.” Derek pulled Blue up and embraced him from behind. “You shouldn’t have waited until this morning to tell me it’s your birthday. I would have preferred to buy your presents in advance.” “Yes, Sir. But you don’t have to get me anything.” “So you don’t want to go shopping today.” “Well, now,” Blue said with a smile, his head rested back against Derek’s shoulder, “I didn’t say that.” “Shopping it is,” said Derek. His chuckle turned sinister. “After you change the sheets again.”

***** “Is Korean any good?” Derek tapped the brakes a few feet from the four-way stop and cast Blue a suspicious sidelong glance. “Why do you ask?” Blue nodded over his shoulder. “There’s a new sign that says Korean Barbecue where that Russian tea room used to be.” Derek squinted through the rear window of the Porsche. “I wonder when they opened?”

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He shifted into reverse and backed up the damp, sunlit street to an empty parking space. He wheeled the sleek black sports car into place, parallel parking with ease, the clutch not catching once. Derek pulled the key from the ignition just as the radio DJ launched into a newscast. Blue heard the words Oakwood, murder, and young male prostitute before the sound faded. Blue’s stomach flipped. He’d met a few Oakwood street hustlers when he’d been homeless, and he wondered if he might have known the victim. He supposed there wasn’t much that could be done for them now. The notorious homophobes that were the local police wouldn’t give two shits about a dead gay prostitute. Hell, the denizens of the rainbow district were equally guilty of turning a blind eye and politely ignoring the boys who worked the block at lower Maple and Third. Putting it out of his mind, Blue stepped out of the Porsche and over the gutter of rushing water, sidestepping the parking meter that had been bagged over for Sunday, and lit upon the sidewalk lined with the bohemian district’s distinctive Corinthian columns. He caught his reflection in the nearest shop window and paused for a moment of vain scrutiny. He ignored his dark blond roots, which were starting to show again and would be taken care of that evening. Instead, he studied the way his finger-combed cobalt layers framed his face, currently dominated by oversized girl’s sunglasses, rivaling his full, pouty lips, the bane of his school yard days and often left split and bleeding at the hands of a bully named Cameron Carter. Willing the uninvited memory of Cameron away, Blue’s gaze trailed down to where Derek had opened the first few buttons of his black-and-white floral print shirt to expose the black T-shirt beneath. Both shirts were tucked into hip-slung stretch jeans offset with two studded belts, one pulled properly through the belt loops, the other fastened loosely and tugged down one narrow hip. Derek insisted on dressing him in tight unisex clothing, yet Blue had to concede that somehow, it suited his style better than the baggy street fashions he’d once worn. Of his own accord, Blue had rolled up the outer shirt sleeves just below the elbow to reveal a row of black rubber rings and handwoven friendship bracelets -- souvenirs of his days before Derek. The display ended at his right wrist with the black and blue leather cock ring that he wore in public as an inside joke between him and his master. As always, he’d paired his high-top Converse sneakers with mismatched socks, a quirk usually overlooked by the casual observer but always noted by Derek, serving as Blue’s own little declaration of independence and a way to, admittedly, just be a pain in the ass. Derek stepped up beside him, long and lean with that silken hair slicked back in a ponytail, his sharp cheekbones offset by sleek designer shades, and dressed in suit, tie, and wingtip shoes worthy of a high-powered CEO. With handsome features and perfect proportions, enough that he could have easily been a male model if he’d been so inclined, it left Blue to wonder what Derek had ever seen in the likes of a skinny kid like him.

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Then Derek took him by the elbow, and it struck Blue how good, how right, they looked together. He nearly rose on tiptoe and kissed Derek, right there on the sidewalk, but stopped himself short of an open display of affection. Though comfortable in his sexuality, Blue was still hesitant about showing it in public, even in a progressive neighborhood like that of Jericho Pass. Only Oakwood, the rainbow district on the other side of town, was meant to be safe haven for couples like Derek and Blue; but as they had personally experienced, there were other dangers to be found, even among their own kind, and neither of them were prepared to brave Oakwood anytime soon. They passed Quincy, who had stepped outside of his body art studio for a smoke break. Only five feet four, and huddled in a baggy black hoodie that hid his numerous tattoos, plugged earlobes, and multicolored hair, the twenty-something shop owner passed for a schoolkid. He casually leaned against a column, the forest green paint flecked in patches to reveal a century-old stratum of color and textures -- mostly sedate shades of black, beige, green, or gray, though somewhere along the way a more festive shop owner had opted for Mardi Gras purple. Quincy nodded at them, cigarette dangling between his lips. “You coming back to get that tatt’ covered up?” he asked Blue. Blue clutched his right biceps defensively and looked to Derek. “It’s not that bad, is it?” Derek gave Quincy’s cigarette a wistful glance before his lips curled into a smirk. “Yes, it’s that bad. Whoever talked you into it did a half-assed job.” “Yeah,” Quincy concurred with a puff of smoke. “The color’s not so bad, but the lines are off. I could fix that, you know. Got an open appointment slot right now if you want it.” Blue winced; apparently, his homemade tattoo of a blue rose was that bad, if Quincy remembered it after only seeing it once. “We’re about to have lunch,” Derek said, nudging Blue down the sidewalk. “We’ll drop in some time to discuss a cover-up.” Quincy pulled up his jacket sleeve and checked his sports watch, a circle of tribal barbwire peeking out from under the band. “Lunch? It’s three in the afternoon.” “We slept in,” Blue said, raising one eyebrow suggestively. “Ah, I see.” Quincy blushed, but winked. “You guys don’t have too much fun without me.” Blue couldn’t figure out if Quincy was flirting with them or just kidding around. Derek had said after first meeting the body artist that Quincy put off a bisexual vibe, but then the three of them had shared a rather intimate and unusual experience that day in the piercing room. Derek opened the door to the restaurant and ushered Blue in. As Blue crossed the threshold, he was greeted by a tinkle of tiny brass bells and the scent of food. A petite, pretty girl turned from the hostess counter, bearing a tray of Chinese teacups, saucers, and a

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steaming teapot. Dressed simply in a red polo shirt and khaki apron with jeans and sneakers, she still bore a certain exotic appeal with her olive skin, almond eyes, and silken brownblack hair pulled back in a loose braid that hung to her waist. Not that Blue was attracted to women, but he could still appreciate one blessed by natural beauty. “Hi,” she greeted them. “I’m April. I’ll be your server today.” She glanced up at Derek with a shy smile, her eyes lingering on his handsome features as he pushed his shades atop his head. Blushing, she diverted her gaze to Blue and smiled openly, obviously more at ease with him. “I love your hair.” “Thanks,” he smiled back, nudging his own sunglasses up, experiencing a surge of pride tinged with jealousy that his boyfriend bore such an impressive effect on the opposite sex. “Do you do it yourself?” she asked. “Yeah. I’m touching up my roots tonight, actually.” “Cool.” April’s gaze drifted to where Derek still gripped Blue by the elbow and her face lit in realization. As she led them through the empty restaurant, she peered back over her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about dying my hair pink for cosplay, but I have to strip the natural color first and I’m scared I’ll fry it.” Blue studied her braid and agreed. “Yeah, you better be careful.” She stopped at a table in the corner by the window. “Table for two?” she asked, her smile knowing and, Blue swore, even friendlier. He noticed what appeared to be a small, round gas grill set in the center of the teak tabletop. “Sorry,” April explained, directing her attention to Derek. “We can’t turn on the tables until we install the overhead fans. That should be next week.” “That’s fine.” Derek smiled. “We’ll grill our own next time.” As the men took their seats across from one another, April placed cups and saucers in front of each of them. Blue peered into his handle-free cup at slivers of dried fruit crystallized with clumps of sugar. As the waitress filled his cup with hot water, the sugar crystals dissolved, and a pleasant, spicy aroma wafted toward him. Sniffing, he realized the fruit was actually slices of ginger root. April set a pair of paper-wrapped chopsticks alongside napkin-rolled Western utensils to the right of each place setting. Handing both customers their menus, April studied Derek in frank appreciation, apparently more comfortable in admiring him now that she knew he was gay. “You’re hapa, too,” she said. She tapped one finger at the corner of her eye, its almond shape enhanced with kohl liner tapered to an intricate cat eye finish. Derek nodded with a faint grin as he scanned the menu. “How’s the kimchi ?” “It’s my grandmother’s recipe, so it’s as authentic as it gets.” She gestured over her shoulder toward the swinging kitchen doors. “She’s making shrimp pajeon today.”

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“She has two batches back there?” Derek asked, though his tone was less one of inquiry than statement. Blue had grown more aware of that particular trait of his partner’s lately, noting that Derek rarely bothered to inflect the end of a query with a question mark. “Yeah,” the waitress confided in mock exasperation. “The one we serve only sits a few weeks, and customers still complain it’s too spicy.” Derek snatched the unread menu from Blue’s hands and passed it back to April along with his. “Ask your grandmother to make our pajeon with the private house stock.” He cut Blue a sly glance. “The one that will melt the chrome off a car.” “Oh, God,” Blue muttered under his breath. April glanced at Blue, then back at Derek. “I’ll get some milk,” she offered in a conspiratorial murmur. Derek nodded back. “He’ll need it. Oh, and we’ll each take a bowl of the kalgooksu.” “Of course,” she said with a grin. She disappeared behind the swinging doors. Blue peered curiously across the cold grill at Derek. “You can grill your own food? Right here at the table?” “Yes, that would be why it’s called a Korean barbecue. We’ll do that next time.” “Hmm, do-it-yourself hibachi,” Blue laughed. Out of habit, he shifted his cup and saucer to his left, followed by his utensils, before blowing softly into his tea. He took a sip, and tasted honey. “So what’s kimchi and shrimp pajeon?” “Kimchi is cabbage fermented in chili sauce. Pajeon is a pancake made with kimchi, scallions, and whatever seafood is on hand.” “Oh-kay,” Blue said, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. “And she called you…what did she call you?” “Hapa.” “And that means…” “Part Asian.” “Ah. Um…” Blue swallowed and then blurted the question that had plagued him since he’d first lain eyes on the gorgeous man that night at Blue Ruin. “What exactly are you?” Derek shrugged, indicating it had been no big deal for Blue to ask all along. “KoreanAmerican, like our waitress.”

Ah, finally, Blue thought, intrigued. But then everything about Derek fascinated him. “So picking this place for lunch was sort of a fluke.” “I would have taken you out for Korean sooner or later,” said Derek. His voice deepened in a suggestive tone. “I just wasn’t sure you could handle the heat.” “I handle you just fine,” Blue retorted without missing a beat. He slumped down in his seat and spread his knees, nudging them between Derek’s thighs. They were the only two

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patrons in the restaurant at that hour, and apparently April was not the type to take issue with a little affection between men. He suspected, somehow, that she might even like it. “So,” he prodded, “Korea…” Derek nodded, pressing his thighs against Blue’s in return. “My grandfather was a Midwestern farm boy stationed in Seoul during the war --” “We fought a war in Korea?” “What are they teaching kids in school these days?” Derek sighed with a wry shake of his head. “Haven’t you caught reruns of M*A*S*H on late night TV?” Blue opened his mouth to ask what “mash” was. Derek held up a hand to stop him. “Never mind. I guess there’s a reason it’s called “The Forgotten War.” It fell between World War II and the Vietnam conflict, so it doesn’t get much attention.” “So that was back in the --” “Early ‘50s,” Derek offered, deadpan. “Be nice,” Blue said, bristling. “You know I didn’t finish school.” “Neither did I.” Derek shrugged. That was also new information to Blue. April reappeared with a large round tray, which she placed over the cold grill. “Here’s your banchan,” she announced, Blue assumed, for his benefit. The banchan consisted of a large bowl of sticky rice, circled by several smaller bowls of various vegetables, some cooked, others fresh, including sliced zucchini, bean sprouts, and baby potatoes, along with squares of tofu covered with what looked like peanut butter, and folds of stewed seaweed pinned with toothpicks. The round bowls were interspersed by square saucers filled with dipping sauces. Following Derek’s lead, Blue took chopsticks in hand. He dipped a strip of zucchini in the soy sauce, while Derek soaked a square of tofu in chili paste. Blue picked up the conversation where he’d left off, ignoring Derek’s patronizing comments. “So your grandfather met your grandmother…” “Mm hmm,” Derek said, swallowing his tofu with a sip of tea. “He stood six feet four with blond hair and blue eyes and, according to his version of events, the local girls were swooning at his feet. My grandmother, on the other hand, refused to give him the time of day, so of course she was the one he pursued. When the war ended, he married her, brought her to the States, and put his GI Bill toward a house in the suburbs.” Blue vaguely recalled learning about the GI Bill, though it seemed the focus had been more on how the veteran’s benefit program had contributed to the rise of the suburbs after World War II and paved the way for the Baby Boomers. It seemed Derek was right -- he’d missed something in school somewhere along the way. He and Derek made quick work of the banchan between them. Feeling more adventurous, Blue tried a piece of the tofu but refrained from seasoning it with chili paste. The dollop of brown butter tasted of almonds and miso, though the hint of fish broth

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surprisingly complemented the flavor of the nuts. Why on earth Derek had needed to spice it up with chili was beyond him. April returned with an elderly woman at her side, both of them laden with trays of food. Blue was presented with an oversized bowl of wide noodles in a clear, steaming broth, and a plate covered with what looked less like a pancake than a thick omelet dotted with pieces of curled shrimp. The woman’s eyes coolly scrutinized Blue and his vibrant hair. However, as she turned to Derek, her mouth dropped and she emitted a tiny gasp. She reached out and openly traced her fingers down the strand of dark auburn bangs which had come loose from his ponytail. She smiled over at her granddaughter. “So tall! And handsome.” Derek took it in stride, though he took on a more polite and respectful demeanor than Blue was used to seeing from him. “Kam sa ham ni da.” Blue’s eyes went wide, while the grandmother’s crinkled with mirth. “You speak Korean?” she asked in a lilting accent, one which Derek had just perfectly replicated. “A little,” Derek said. “Where you get those green eyes and red hair?” she asked. “My father,” Derek answered, telling this stranger more about his parents than Blue had gleaned in three months. The elder woman peered without pretense at his left hand. “No wedding ring?” she asked. She turned pointedly to April. “Grandmother!” the girl gasped with a blush. Derek demurred with a polite smile and a shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m already spoken for.” “Ah, well,” the grandmother laughed. “Lucky girl.” Derek grinned and shot a sidelong glance at Blue. “I like to think she is.” Blue nearly choked on his water. As he composed himself, the older woman looked back at him with renewed interest before turning to April. “He have funny hair like those cartoons you watch.” “She means anime,” April explained. “Yes.” The grandmother nodded back at him. “Too pretty to be a boy.” Now it was Blue’s turn to blush. He might have taken offense if not for the woman’s age and the playful tone to her banter. She gestured toward the food with a sweep of her hand. “Manhi meokeo.” “Thank you, we will,” Derek said. As the two women took leave, Derek looked at Blue and answered his unspoken question. “She told us to ‘eat a lot.’ That’s a Korean grandmother for you.”

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“Hell, that’s any grandmother for you,” Blue said, remembering full-course breakfasts that would put a cereal commercial to shame during childhood visits with his mother’s parents. Like Derek, his family could trace their roots just two generations back to the farm. He prompted Derek with another question. “So,” he said casually, “you learned Korean from your…mother?” Blue watched closely. A hint of reticence passed behind Derek’s eyes, and his posture stiffened slightly. “A little,” he said, and Blue detected the strain in his voice. “Sandra taught me a few phrases to impress guests at her parties.” Blue realized he’d touched a nerve and fingered the reason Derek hadn’t volunteered information about his past on his own. He silently weighed dropping the subject versus pushing for more details while Derek was still talking. He opted to proceed with caution. “Something tells me she didn’t stay in the Midwestern ’burbs.” “No. She got the hell out of there as soon as she could and took a bus to New York. Don’t stir your soup.” Blue paused from stirring his kalgooksu noodles. “Why?” “It’s considered bad manners at the Korean table. Slurping is acceptable, though.” “Okay.” Blue slurped a spoonful of the chicken broth and found it quite tasty. “New York as in the city or the state?” “The city. Sandra bleached her hair platinum and fell in with the glam scene. She started modeling, and that’s how she met Austin.” “Austin?” “My father. He was a” -- Derek’s tense tone went acrid -- “photographer.”

Yes, definitely some issues with the parents. Blue persisted, though he changed his line of questioning. “So you were born in New York?” Derek shrugged again. “Yeah. We lived in East Village until I was six. Then Sandra and Austin split up, and she moved us over to Brooklyn. She’s there now with my sisters.” “Sisters?” As an only child, Blue found the concept of siblings intriguing. “Yeah, two of them.” Derek relaxed, his tone gone to one of nonchalance. “They’re just a little younger than you.” He sampled his kalgooksu and licked his lips. “The broth’s a bit bland,” he said. Blue watched in amazement as his partner added a spoonful of the chili paste to the soup and let it swirl in the broth sans stirring. As he absorbed Derek’s revelations, he tried to wrap his mind around a few key facts. Sandra and Austin, not Mom or Dad. And parties, the glam scene…East Village ? It sounded like a pretty hip family to Blue, certainly more interesting than life with a district attorney father and cookie-baking mother in the vanilla suburbs.

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“So let me get this straight,” Blue said. “You grew up in New York? And you came to this hick town?” “This isn’t exactly a hick town,” Derek countered. He gestured toward the window at the hulking skyline in the distance. “Compared to New York, it is. So what brought you here?” “A contracting agency sent me here in ’97 for the Y2K rollout. I liked it and decided to stay.” “Hmm.” Blue toyed with his straw. “I was nine that year. Which means you were twenty.” Derek sipped his tea and stared out the window. He watched a lone car cruise past, the tires gently splashing a shallow puddle of water. “Does the age difference ever bother you?” he asked quietly. “Not really.” Blue shrugged. He sliced into his pajeon with fork and knife. “It’s just weird to do the math sometimes.” He peered back up at Derek and cocked a sly grin. “I think it’s kind of sexy that I’m with a dirty old man.” Derek turned from the window and raised an eyebrow. “Dirty old man ?” “Sorry, Sir.” His smile widening, Blue popped a bite of pancake in his mouth. “This isn’t so bad,” he mumbled around his food. “Kind of sour, but not as hot as you and April made it out to be --” His voice croaked as a trail of fire singed its way down his esophagus. Peppered fumes wafted back up his throat, instantly clearing his sinuses. Eyes watering, he inhaled half of his milk in one gulp, Derek chuckling at him all the while.

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Chapter Three Derek leaned back on the cream leather sofa, his feet crossed at the ankles and propped on the black lacquered coffee table. Lifting the remote, he aimed it across the dimly lit den. Leaving the control unit on his knee, he steepled his fingers at his lips and smiled wickedly at the display that unfolded before him. Tonight’s entertainment wasn’t played out on the television, but rather kneeling naked on the plush Persian rug in front of it. A muffled buzz sounded, followed by the muted groan that escaped through the black rubber bit clamped between Blue’s teeth. As he arched his spine and stretched his throat, the thin braid of nylon threaded between the bit and Blue’s cock went tight, pulling his erection taut against his navel. The rope squeezed him where Derek had looped it around the corona of his swollen glans, further tormenting him where the fibers coiled down his shaft to separate his balls, the thin flesh of the sac stretched tight. The strands met in the knot pressed into his taint, then wound twice around each thigh, parting the flanks of his ass, the anchor point fixed at the wrists pinned behind his tailbone. The most intriguing aspect of Blue’s predicament was that the bit in his mouth remained free of any harness or strap, the O-rings at either side serving to tether the working ends of the nylon. The bit stayed between Blue’s teeth of his own accord; it was he who bore the responsibility of holding the rope in place, and it was he who determined the rope’s tension in order to stave off orgasm. Derek’s own cock twitched in response, tenting his trousers, making for his own pleasurable torment. Restrained not by rope but sheer will, he sat back and enjoyed the sight of his pet, bound, blindfolded, and at his mercy with the mere click of a button.

Mine. Derek smiled upon his most precious possession, reveling in the way the sweat beaded at Blue’s brow above the black satin blindfold, delighting in the rhythm of Blue’s hips as they rocked in time to the sonic pulse against his prostate.

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The manner in which Blue so willingly offered himself to his master’s sadistic whims only made Derek all the more smug. Yes, Blue was his, to do with as he pleased. Derek aimed the wireless remote again, impressed by its range capabilities, and clicked the off button, granting Blue a moment’s reprieve from the vibrator. The boy’s head drooped and his shoulders hunched while his ribs fluttered with short, shallow gasps. The intricately looped bight around his cock and balls went slack, enough to allow for proper blood circulation before Derek treated him to the next round of torturous pleasure. “Remember,” Derek said, “you can’t come until I do.” He considered, for a moment, quietly getting himself off with Blue none the wiser. But as much enjoyment as he might derive from making Blue hold out longer, Derek preferred to come in that sweet, luscious mouth or firm little ass. He clicked the button on the control pad again. At the sob that escaped from behind Blue’s gag, Derek gave a start but managed to hold himself back. He suspected, at times, that Blue vamped up the crying, and it was one reason he’d used the blindfold -- not only to deprive his partner of sight, but so he wouldn’t cave in to those puppy dog eyes that Blue had somehow learned to use against him. When Derek turned the vibrator off, Blue began to slump forward once more. With a groan, he quickly resumed his contorted pose. He maintained his strained posture, his cock purpling, his frame trembling, as one telltale pearl of cum leaked from the slit of the flared head. “Good boy,” Derek cooed. He rose from the sofa to torture his poor but not so hapless pet just a bit more. Stepping behind Blue, he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers drop to his knees. While he quite enjoyed the feel of Blue’s flesh against his, he equally enjoyed the sense of power derived from taking his fully nude partner while he remained mostly dressed. Kneeling, Derek planted one hand between Blue’s shoulder blades and twined his other hand through that wild nest of cobalt. With a sharp jerk, he pulled the boy’s head back and nudged his shoulders forward, causing Blue’s spine to dip deeper and the rope to hitch tight. Teeth still clenched around the bit, Blue whimpered in protest, his pleas only serving to goad Derek’s crueler desires. He thumped his fingers against the knot pressed into the root of the scrotum. “Chin on the floor,” he instructed. Derek watched with glee as the nylon cut into Blue’s thighs and spread his buttocks wide, revealing the thin retrieval cord which hung from his puckered entrance. “Now that’s a sight to see,” Derek murmured, his voice gone thick with lust. Though Derek had inserted the bullet -- and quite enjoyed doing so -- he felt a twinge of jealousy that this man-made device had driven his partner to such an agitated state. He hooked his finger through the loop and gently tugged the cord. The silver cylinder, slick and shiny with

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lube, came free with a soft sucking sound. Its purpose served, Derek tossed the toy aside. The rug would soon see worse. It never ceased to awe him, or stoke his ego, that he was the one and only man who had indulged in the pleasure that was the tight, slick heat of Blue’s eager ass. He slid in a finger, followed by a second, hilting to the lowest knuckle. Finding the nub of Blue’s gland, he teased it with his fingertips. Blue thrashed and squirmed, his cries gone to frantic sobs. Derek could hold back no more. Withdrawing his fingers, he inserted the tip of his cock. Inch by inch, Blue’s muscles opened and accepted him, only to snap tight again and sheathe him like a glove. Gritting his teeth, Derek stifled the gasp that might betray his own vulnerability. Mine, and my pleasure alone… “Okay,” he grunted. “Now.” Blue dropped the bit. With a wide-mouthed wail, he reared back and slammed against Derek’s chest. Derek absorbed the delicious impact and held him there, one hand fanned beneath Blue’s chin, the other wrapped around the base of Blue’s cock where the rope had fallen free. He pushed and plummeted into Blue with heedless abandon, one loud smack after the other echoing through the loft, quickly driving them both to the apex of ecstasy. Blue’s wad shot a few good feet across the room, lending Derek a perverse sense of triumph at the thought of his partner’s fluids staining his expensive designer rug. Derek panted into Blue’s hair, certain his own mane looked equally disheveled, and fought a moment to catch his breath. Only Blue could ever lend him such a wanton sense of decadence and make him forget, for a little while, the responsibilities of work and home, or his insistence for order and neatness in his life. Just as he offered Blue some much needed discipline and guidance, in turn Blue had reminded Derek that it was okay to occasionally relax and indulge in pleasure for the sake of pleasure. Their differences in personality complemented one another, making for balance even in moments of hedonism, striking a medium that Derek had always sought to achieve and was pleased to have found in his partner. And only Blue owned his heart. For as the boy was his and his alone, Derek knew that he belonged equally to Blue in body, heart, and soul. For years he’d engaged in one meaningless fling after another, searching for the one who would stay with him long enough to explore his deepest fantasies. He’d never imagined the benefits of also loving that person -or being loved by that person in return. The faith and trust that Blue placed in him was in itself the biggest responsibility that Derek had ever held, and it was what his pet offered, more than any authority shown on the master’s part, that had come to serve as the basis of their power exchange. Mushy sentiments aside, he’d make Blue clean the rug later, naked and bent over with a toothbrush and a dab of spot cleaner. His bearings regained, Derek untied the rope from Blue’s wrists. Sated, he reclined to his side, bringing Blue with him. He tugged off the blindfold to reveal fever-glazed eyes,

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suspecting they reflected his own. He curled around his lover, his sense of possession gone to one of protection as he gently massaged each of Blue’s wrists with the pads of his thumbs. Despite the fact that he lay on the floor with his pants around his knees, Derek felt content and comfortable -- so contented that he started to drift into sleep until Blue’s voice broke the trance. “Derek…I mean, Sir…” Eyes still closed, Derek smiled at Blue’s lapse, secretly thrilling to the sound of his name on the boy’s lips. “What is it?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “I’ve been thinking. I can’t let you keep taking care of me.” Derek’s eyes flew open. Lifting, he propped his head on one arm. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone calm though alarm tugged at his gut. Blue continued, his back still toward Derek, his gaze focused across the room. “I feel like I should carry my weight more.” “You do carry your weight,” Derek said, somewhat relieved, a hint of panic lingering. “You clean the house.” He stroked Blue’s bangs, the white streak temporarily gone pale blue from the recent color touch-up, and tucked them behind his ear. He kissed Blue’s temple. “You keep me from smoking.” He gave another kiss at the tip of Blue’s ear while skimming his hand down the contour of Blue’s hip. “You give me pleasure simply by being at my side.” Blue grinned and snuggled his ass closer to Derek. “I enjoy doing those things,” he said. “But I’m…” He paused. “I don’t know how to say this without it sounding bad, but --” “You’re bored.” Blue pursed his lips, and Derek could tell he was weighing his next statement carefully. “No. I wouldn’t say bored. I mean, we just had the most amazing sex. And Lord knows we’ve been through some interesting shit,” Blue added with a wry laugh. “I’m just thinking I should get a job. I mean, I was working when we met.” “Busing tables at a bar for tips,” Derek reminded him. Blue stiffened and pulled away from him -- just an inch, but Derek noted the distance. “At least it was something.” “So you’d go back to something like that.” “Okay, so it sucked,” Blue admitted, visibly sulking. “But without my GED, my prospects are limited.” He scooted over, on the premise of making room to roll onto his back, putting a few more inches between them. One arm folded behind his head, fingers splayed across his flat stomach, he looked up at the ceiling. “That’s something else I’ve been thinking about -- going to night classes to get my GED.” “You can take an online course,” Derek suggested. “Yeah, I’ve looked into that, too,” Blue said, still evading his gaze, leaving Derek to wonder just how much of this the boy had pondered before bringing it up. “I could get my GED, and then maybe go to college. My parents set aside a savings account for me, enough to

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cover books and a year’s tuition. As far as I know, it’s still in the bank. Although I don’t really know what I’d major in.” He gave an impish grin. “I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.” “I didn’t go to college.” Derek shrugged. He knew he needed to support Blue, that it was unrealistic of him to keep Blue at home with him forever. Yet a part of him was scared to let Blue out of his sight. While his thoughts shifted instantly to the night Blue had been kidnapped, a deeper memory inexplicably hit him full force.

Bundled in his scarf and coat, clutching his mother’s hand as she’d hefted a suitcase in the other. The studio had been freezing, the radiator gone cold that day after the landlord had shut off access to the boiler room. He heard Sandra’s words to Austin play through his mind. “I’ve met someone else. Someone with goals, who isn’t content to let my son live in squalor.” And his father hadn’t argued. He’d simply watched his girlfriend and his only child walk out the door and out of his life, and they’d taken a cab to another man’s house in a nicer part of the city. Within days, Sandra had agreed to something the photographer had not convinced her to do in seven years -- she legally married her lover, a comfortably set banking executive with an artistic side who’d met the unconventional Eurasian beauty after she’d modeled for his painting class. Derek cleared his throat, suddenly constricted, and returned to the present. “How about this.” Reaching out, he took Blue by the opposite hip. “If you want to go to school, then focus on school. Get a job after you have some credentials under your belt. I trust I can hold down the fort in the meantime.” “That’s just it, though,” Blue muttered up at him. “You shouldn’t keep taking care of me. I don’t want to be a charity case.” Derek managed to bite back a growl as he dug in his fingers and rolled Blue’s body to face his. “Blue, you are my partner. We agreed we are both in this for the long haul.” “Yeah, but --” “No ‘but’ to it. Consider it an investment on my part. After you finish school and are in a position to contribute financially, then we can start splitting the bills.” He paused a moment and smiled, though his jaw remained tense. “Just don’t plan on getting into some Ivy League school because we can’t afford that shit.” Blue’s throat bubbled with his pleasant, lilting laugh, the one that usually left Derek feeling warm and charmed and more at ease. “Fuck no. I’m thinking community college. Or some kind of trade school.” “Well, again, you can take something like that online.” Blue’s eyes flitted, avoiding Derek’s gaze once more. “Maybe.”

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So he was bored, thought Derek. He wants to get out of the house, meet other people. He cupped Blue’s face, affection shifting back to possession. “I’ll make sure you study hard. I’ll bend you over the desk and smack your ass with a ruler every time you make an A.” “Pervert,” Blue laughed. He nudged his pelvis toward Derek’s. “You and I approach life kind of differently than most couples, don’t we?” “That we do,” Derek answered, rolling on top of Blue, parting the boy’s succulent thighs with one knee. He nudged Blue with his prick, instantly revived by the lurid visual of the boy bent on all fours, his blistered rump receiving a sound thrashing with a ruler, a paddle or, better yet, the riding crop. With Blue’s entrance still slick from his earlier ministrations, Derek slid back in with ease. Blue hissed at the sudden invasion and clawed at his shoulders, but as Derek began to pump into him, taking it nice and slow, Blue soon wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and lifted his hips from the floor. With every sigh and moan, he matched Derek thrust for thrust, one long and languorous undulation after the other, until they were each treated to another fresh, hot burst of cum, both inside and out. His knees rubbed sore by the friction from the rug, Derek took satisfaction in knowing that Blue’s backside had borne the brunt of his passion. He collapsed and lay there a moment, trapping his lover in place as the boy wilted beneath him. Derek wanted to be proud -- knew he should be proud -- that Blue wanted more out of life and had taken initiative in setting goals to attain what he desired. Yet the deepest, darkest, most selfish part of Derek wanted to hide his lover from the rest of the world and keep Blue all to himself forever.

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Chapter Four Blue led Derek up the stairs to his room. He closed the door behind them and immediately locked it. Ingrained habits died hard, he supposed. “Dinner wasn’t so bad,” Derek said. “I, for one, never thought I’d sit down and break bread at the District Attorney’s table. Though your mother’s Italian meatloaf isn’t agreeing with the Chianti I brought with us.” “Well, you ate three helpings,” Blue chided with a smirk. He set the empty box his mother had provided on the full-sized bed. In his days before Derek, he’d never bothered to make the sheets up, his argument being that he was just going to mess them back up when he went to sleep that night. Now, the black-and-white striped comforter was smoothed tight and even, the sheets beneath it perfectly squared at the corners. “I didn’t want to be rude. She kept offering more.” Derek moved the box over and sat down on the mattress. He leaned back against the neatly arranged pillows and propped one arm behind his head. “I still can’t believe my mother asked to meet you.” Derek had already met Blue’s overbearing, opinionated father once. Somehow they’d managed to work together long enough to rescue his drugged and kidnapped ass from a demented rapist. But a belated birthday dinner with his parents -- that had promised to be an entirely different challenge altogether. Yet as Derek had said, it hadn’t been so bad. “You looked cute blowing out your candles.” “Oh, God.” Blue rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe that part had been bad. “I’m just glad my mom didn’t sing Happy Birthday.” Derek chuckled. “Polly isn’t what I expected. I thought she’d be more of the socialite type, seeing as she has to rub elbows with the country club set.”

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“She hates that shit and usually feigns a headache to get out of important functions,” Blue said. “I knew I liked her for some reason,” Derek grinned. Sobering, he looked up at the ceiling. “It also strikes me that she’s the same age as my mother. But then I suppose you were more planned than I was.” “Actually, I wasn’t,” Blue said. Crossing his arms, he surveyed his former sanctuary. He’d spent most of his life hiding out in this room; now, after just a few months’ absence, it seemed both familiar and foreign. “My mom was a paralegal with the first firm my dad worked at. She was thinking about going to law school but then she got married and pregnant and decided to do the stay-at-home thing. Kind of makes me feel guilty.” He opened his closet door with a sigh. “I just wish she’d quit referring to you as my roommate.” “Blue, that’s the oldest code word in the book for same-sex live-in lover.” Blue peered over his shoulder. “Does that definition extend to ‘same-sex live-in lover who ties me to the bed and pounds me in the ass every night’?” Derek smiled slyly with a lift of the eyebrow. “While you moan and beg for more? Yes, in our case, ‘roommate’ would entail all of the above.” Blue blushed and turned his attention back to the closet. When his father had thrown him out, he’d left with the clothes on his back. The first few weeks, he’d borrowed a cell phone here and there, intending to call his mother and ask if he could come by the house and get a few things. Each time, he got pissed at his father all over again and hung the phone up in disgust, opting to crash on a couch or a floor or wherever he could find to sleep for the night. When he haphazardly fell into Derek’s life a few months later, he jumped at the opportunity for a nice place to stay, the deal sweetened when he agreed to play submissive to his attractive, experienced host. He hadn’t counted on falling in love. Though Derek had outfitted him with a full wardrobe, Blue began sorting through his old garments. He knew Derek would disapprove of anything too baggy, but he wanted to grab a few items for sentimental reasons. He selected a couple of T-shirts from the more memorable concerts he’d attended, a black velvet thrift shop jacket bedecked with novelty pins, a pair of plaid bondage pants that fit snugly, and a pair of twelve-eyelet black leather boots with three buckle straps each. He tossed the items one by one onto his bed. Derek sat straight and folded the clothes neatly, then stacked them in the box. He eyed the boots with an approving look before placing them beside the clothes. “Back in the day, I wore knee-high oxbloods.” “Tall guys like you can pull that off,” Blue said. “Though I’m still trying to picture you punk.” He shut the closet and crossed his room to the black spray-painted bookshelf plastered with bumper stickers. Dropping to his haunches, he grabbed a handful of manga and his collectible duel card deck and passed them to Derek. Rising, he paused to consider the rock

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band and video game posters which papered the wall, but figured he couldn’t tack any of them up at the loft. He’d grown too mature for posters anyway, he supposed. Blue turned to his computer. “Can we bring this?” Derek stared at Blue like he’d grown horns out of his head. “The laptop I gave you is better.” “I have some music and stuff on here I want.” Blue fired up the computer, then began sifting through the clutter on the desk for a blank CD. Other than making his bed, his mother thankfully hadn’t attempted to organize his room in his absence; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to locate shit. “I guess I can burn it on disk.” Derek fumbled in his pocket and produced his keys. He detached a slim plastic cartridge from the key ring and tossed it to Blue. “Hook that up to your USB port. It’ll hold up to two gig.” Blue did as instructed. He selected a few files and set the computer to transfer them to the flash drive. While the files loaded, he sat on the bed and snuggled against Derek. In turn, Derek leaned back against the pillows and pulled Blue with him. “Want to make out?” Blue grinned up from where he propped his chin on Derek’s chest. He hooked a finger under Derek’s tie. “I always wanted to mess around with someone in this bed.” Derek smiled tightly and smacked Blue’s hand away. “Suppose your father wakes from his nap or your mother comes upstairs?” “A hurricane could blow through here and my dad would sleep through it. And my mom is on a manic cleaning spree. That’s why she chased us out of the kitchen after you offered to make me do the dishes.” Derek quirked one brow. “I don’t want to be disrespectful in your parents’ home. They made an effort in inviting me here today, and I’m not going to screw that up for you.” Blue flopped back on the pillows beside Derek and sighed up at the ceiling. His bangs, gone white again after the recent dye job had rinsed a few times, fluttered at his puff of breath. “Chicken. I could never get my ex to sneak in here, either. Good thing for you, or I might not have still been a virg--” Blue was interrupted with Derek’s tongue filling his mouth as his head was pressed back into the pillows. He went to thread his fingers through Derek’s hair, but quickly found his wrists pinned above his head. Derek pulled away and glowered down at Blue, his hair slipping from where his ponytail had been loosed and framing his face. “No,” he said sternly, then softening, he kissed Blue again. “But I think your dad has the right idea about a nap.” “Okay, fine,” Blue muttered in feigned disappointment, though privately, he thought snuggling with his master in his former bed would prove satisfying in its own right. Rolling

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toward Derek, he crooked one leg over the other man’s thigh. “So teach me some Korean,” Blue said. “Sir,” he added at Derek’s frown. Brow knitted, Derek jerked Blue by the collar. As his face loomed back into close proximity, Blue swallowed the lump in his throat. “Wha-jang-sil uhdee itsuh-yo ?” Derek murmured in Blue’s ear. “Ooh.” Blue relaxed. “What does that mean?” “Where is the bathroom.” “Kinky.” Blue laughed. “Keep talking.” “Sarang hae.” Something about the low, soft puff of Derek’s breath, and the way he trilled the r, made Blue go warm and fluttery inside. “And that means…” “I love you.” Blue smiled and melted. “Oh, well then, saw rang hay, too.” “That was awful,” Derek groaned. He nuzzled Blue’s pulse point and whispered a lilting string of syllables, his smooth baritone lowering with each word to a husky purr. Blue shivered, an instinctive thrill shooting down his spine, and his cock went rigid. “You didn’t learn to say that for your mother’s parties.” “I might have looked up a few key phrases on my own,” Derek confessed. He nipped Blue behind the earlobe, sending another pleasant quiver through Blue’s limbs. “So what did you just say?” Blue managed to ask with a gasp. “That you’re an insufferable but sexy brat, and you’re in trouble when we get home.”

Good, Blue thought. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and burrowed his face against the hollow of Derek’s throat.

***** Blue yawned, still dazed from his catnap, and stood by with his box as his mother sorted through the pantry. He noticed more gray strands peppering her roots than the last time he’d seen her, but then she’d never grown out her frosted blonde layers that much before. She’d gained a few pounds, too, her normally trim waist thickened by a few inches where she’d knotted her apron in place. With a streak of guilt, Blue wondered if it was his fault that she’d let herself go the past few months, or if other dynamics were at play after he’d ditched his role as the buffer zone between his mother and father. “I have extra Hamburger Helper,” Polly said. “It was marked down on clearance.” “Derek doesn’t eat shit” -- Blue corrected himself -- “stuff like that.” “Oh, well, I thought two young bachelors --” “We’re not bachelors, Mom, and Derek isn’t my roommate. He’s my boyfriend.”

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Polly paused and looked at Blue. To his surprise, she smiled, and her blue eyes crinkled behind her wire frame glasses. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m trying, I really am.” “I know,” he conceded. “I watched a rerun of Oprah where gay teenagers came out to their parents. I understand now that you were born like this. It was wrong of your father to throw you out, and…” Her voice cracked, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “It was wrong of me not to stand by you.” Blue looked away, embarrassed less by her tears than the ones of his own that threatened to breach. “Mom, it’s okay.” “No, let me finish. I just…” She sniffed and hitched her breath. “I just want you to be happy, Shane.” “I am happy.” He smiled thinly, not sure how to take her comment. “For the first time in my life, really.” “And that makes me happy.” She smiled back, a warm and genuine smile. “I do like Derek. He seems to be a good man, and a responsible one.” She turned back to the pantry. “Do you still eat ramen? I stocked up on that, too. Force of habit.” “I’ll take whatever you got.” He held the box out. “So, you like Derek,” he prodded, “but…” He’d distinctly detected her unspoken hesitance. “You’re so young, Shane, and he’s nearly thirty.” “So?” Blue asked, his defensive hackles rising. “What’s wrong with older men?” “It’s not Derek’s age that worries me. It’s yours.” “So you’re saying I’m immature?” “Shane…” She shook her head with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not looking to argue with you. I just I hope you haven’t rushed into things too fast. Derek strikes me as being at that stage where he’s ready to settle down. But you…your life is just getting started, honey.” She tucked the last package of ramen in place beside the wrapped birthday cake with a crinkle of plastic. “I’m glad you’re going back to school. Did your father give you the cashier’s check?” “He gave it to Derek. We’re opening an account tomorrow.” “With your name on it, I trust?” “Yeah. Derek’s going with me to help me choose the best type of account. His stepdad’s a banker, so he knows a little about finances.” Tight-lipped, Polly closed the pantry and walked to the sink. Finding it clear of dishes, she grabbed the washrag and needlessly busied herself with wiping down the counter, circumventing the Holstein motif accessories that adorned the kitchen. In previous years, it had been blue ribbon geese. Blue waited, bracing himself. Finally, Polly spoke. “Don’t do like I did and set your goals aside for his.”

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“I’m not,” Blue assured her. So that was what was bothering her? While he found her unsolicited advice annoying, it seemed like a downright normal concern for a mother to have, whether her child was gay or straight. Blue turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Mom? Mom.” She stopped her hypomanic cleaning frenzy and met his gaze. “Yes, Shane?” “Thanks for dinner.” Polly smiled, and her eyes went dewy again. “You’re welcome, honey. You and your -your boyfriend are welcome here anytime.”

***** Derek waited for Blue in the foyer. Hands in his pockets, he studied the framed images on the wall. The frame featured twelve spaces, designated for each school year of a child’s life. Though Blue had dropped out his senior year, the last three spaces of his pictorial history sat empty. The photos told Derek more than Blue ever could. The younger man had started out in kindergarten as a cherubic, smiling imp, just as children were meant to be. Derek reached out and touched his fingertip to the small tuft of white showing in the five-year-old’s otherwise dark blond buzz cut.

I was sixteen that year, Derek thought. And already moved out of his mother’s house and splitting rent on his first apartment. Blue was right -- it was weird to do the math sometimes. He traced his finger across the glass, following Blue’s journey of lost baby teeth, braces, and a brief bout of acne. The handsome youth had grown taller and thinner, his hair longer and shaggier, and gradually, the smile had faded from those perfectly sculpted lips. By freshman year, Blue’s hair hung over one side of his face, partly covering his scowl, the albino streak gone gray after he’d colored his mane black to match his updated wardrobe. His left earlobe gleamed with a single silver stud, the first of many piercings to follow. Standing in this nice home in an affluent suburb, in the kind of household with the devoted mother that Derek had always wished for as child, he looked at Blue’s photos and knew the truth -- that through four of those years, Blue had suffered beatings and harassment at the hands of a schoolyard bully, the situation further complicated by the first stirrings of homosexual feelings toward none other than his tormentor. Somewhere along the way, Blue had finally stood up for himself and the bully had backed off. Later on, he’d found a boyfriend and they’d experimented -- enough that Blue hadn’t been a complete novice when Derek had gotten ahold of him -- so he’d obviously come to terms with being gay. But Derek had also clutched Blue in his arms in the middle of the night and listened to him cry as he’d recounted some of the more traumatic incidents from his childhood. The wounds may have sealed, but Blue would always bear the scars.

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“I wish I could have been there for you somehow,” Derek muttered to the boy in the photos. “You’re here now,” a voice murmured from behind. Derek whirled around, and instantly found his lover stretched on tiptoe and crushed against him. Their lips met. Derek pulled back. “Your parents,” he whispered. “I don’t care,” said Blue. He nudged Derek’s head back down. His tongue darted, hot and urgent, between Derek’s lips. Derek took charge and deepened the kiss, guiding Blue to take it slower and sweeter. As the lithe body against him yielded in his arms, Derek found he didn’t care who saw, either.

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Chapter Five Blue plodded down the stairwell, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a black notebook with a number two pencil stuck in the spiral binding. At the foot of the stairs he veered right, then went through a pair of sturdy metal doors and made his way down the corridor. His boot heels echoed eerily off the scuffed tile, the chains on his bondage pants jangling in time with each step. He passed a row of lockers, the painted metal alternating between the school colors of maroon and orange. At night, with the lights dimmed and the halls empty, the facility bore a sinister, surrealistic feel. Though it was his first time in the building, Blue found it wasn’t much different from his old high school. In fact, it was a little too close for comfort, right down to the cloying scent of industrial strength pine cleanser, causing his gut to twinge with the same anxiety that had plagued him throughout adolescence. He stopped at the last door on the left. He peered through the narrow wire glass panel, confirming he’d arrived at the right place.

No turning back, Blue told himself. He turned the doorknob and entered the classroom. He was greeted by a flicker of fluorescent light and the hum of idle chatter, the scent of pine giving way to chalk dust and paper. A few of the students looked at him with passing curiosity. A trim, middle-aged redhead in a terry cloth track suit lifted a brow as she eyed him up and down, then resumed her conversation with a pudgy, balding gentleman dressed in a decidedly conservative polo shirt tucked into belted, pressed khakis. Scanning the room, ignoring the faces, Blue went to an empty desk on the back row. He slapped his notebook down on the desktop, slipped out of his velvet jacket, and hung it across the backrest. With a clatter of chains, he took his seat and slouched down, propping his foot on his knee. A voice chimed from his left. “Hi.”

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Blue wondered how on earth he’d overlooked the girl with amethyst eyes. He took in her striped baby doll shirt, fishnet arm warmers, pierced nose, and black emo swoop streaked purple at the fringes to match her contacts. “Hey.” He nodded back, a show of solidarity with a fellow misfit and the one student in the room who appeared closest to him in age. “I’m Jodi,” she offered with a slight wave of her hand, her nails painted black with hot pink star decals. Normally, Blue might have found such a combination garish, but somehow the girl’s quirky style suited her. “I’m Blue.” “Fitting,” she giggled. Her pale cheeks flushed pink and her smile deepened. “That was a killer concert.” He looked down at his shirt. “Yeah. I was on the lawn and couldn’t see crap, but they sounded great.” She gave a knowing laugh, then nibbled her lower lip and looked down at her hands folded on her desk. It struck Blue that she might be flirting, had perhaps assumed he’d chosen that particular seat in order to meet her, but when it came to girls he could never really tell. He’d observed women exhibit such an appreciative reaction in Derek’s presence, but then his boyfriend could pass for a damned GQ model. A bespectacled, wiry-haired gentleman in a short sleeve button-up plaid shirt and a horribly outdated tie entered the room with a stack of textbooks topped by a clipboard. As the door shut behind him, the man dropped the books on the teacher’s desk with a thud. “Oh, that must be sensei,” Jodi muttered under her breath. “Huh?” Blue asked. Their instructor took his place at the podium. He offered an obligatory greeting, then immediately informed the class that obtaining a GED was no easy feat. For perspective, he explained that one-third of high school graduates would fail the GED test. Blue refrained from raising his hand and asking how that one-third had managed to finish school in the first place. Any musings over the complexities of the educational system were kept to himself. The teacher reminded them that they would meet for three and a half hours every Monday and Wednesday evening for the next three months and engage in what he termed as “intensive review of the five core subjects necessary for graduation.” In other words, thought Blue, they were going to cram like nobody’s business. The teacher then went on to explain that the test would take eight hours, divided into two four-hour sessions. As he outlined the five parts of the test on the chalkboard, Blue did what he’d often done in school -- he zoned out. He’d already read up on the test and knew what to expect. He was ready to get started on reviewing everything he’d forgotten over the past several months since he’d dropped out. He stared out the window and watched a small flock of night birds swarm around a streetlamp, swooping and diving at the insects that had

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gathered under the warm, fuzzy light like lambs to the slaughter. Absently, he clicked his tongue ring against the back of his teeth. The rhythmic scratch of chalk upon slate was interrupted by the squeak of hinges. Blue glanced toward the door. A tall young man in a classic leather biker jacket, tight jeans, and black sneakers swaggered into the room. “Sorry,” said the latecomer in a smooth baritone. Blue knew that voice. He knew that confident gait. The former quarterback’s hair was longer now, the chestnut brown crew cut grown to wispy layers that fell in his eyes and framed his square jawline. He’d lost some of his build, the biker jacket hanging on his six feet frame more loosely than his letterman jacket had, but his chest still stretched out the black T-shirt before tapering to his smooth, narrow waist. “Wow, he’s hot,” Blue vaguely heard Jodi mutter. “Hello, Mr. Carter,” he thought he heard the teacher say, the words muffled by the sound of Blue’s pulse pounding in his ears, the rhythm matching his heart as it hammered against his rib cage. The new arrival grinned, showing perfect white teeth, and his chin dimpled. “I parked the bike by the gym but the back door was locked. Had to go around.”

It couldn’t be him. Of all the damned night schools in this godforsaken city… “New security measures,” said the teacher. He nodded toward an empty desk at the front of the room. “Have a seat.” He peered over his bifocals at his clipboard. “You’re retesting for the Language Arts portion of the exam. So you won’t need to come in on Wednesdays.” He looked back up at the younger man. “I trust you won’t be back for round three?” “No, sir. I couldn’t bribe you last time, so I guess I’ll break down and study for this one.” A soft wave of laughter rippled through the room. But then Cameron Carter had always been able to charm his way through anything. The remaining hour passed slowly. Blue slumped deeper in his seat with each drag of the minute hand, his palm sweaty where he gripped his pencil as he focused on taking notes. Being a lefty, he was soon reminded that throughout his school days, graphite and ink had constantly smeared the side of his hand, at times even working up his wrist to damned near his elbow. He looked up once, with the distinct and sickening feeling that he was being watched, but Cameron’s gaze remained fixed on the chalkboard. At long last, the teacher called for a ten-minute break, giving brief directions to the bathrooms one way, the courtyard and vending machines in the other. As his classmates filed out of the room, Blue stayed rooted to his seat. He watched with relief as Cameron exited the room. The brunet carried himself with the same trademark strut he’d had since making the

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football team back in junior high, yet something about him now seemed just a touch less cocky and a little more…humble ? A hand touched his shoulder. Blue jumped. “Oh, sorry,” the purple-eyed girl said. Jodi, Blue reminded himself. She had a name. “I, um, just thought you might want to join me for a Coke and go watch the bats?” “Bats?” “Yeah.” Jodi nodded over her shoulder at the window. “Those are bats out there. Isn’t it cool?” “Oh, I thought they were birds,” Blue mumbled, standing on shaky legs. He slid on his jacket, then pulled his new cell phone from the pocket. “Sorry, but I need to go make a call.” On autopilot, he willed his feet to move. Peering out the door in each direction, ensuring Cameron was nowhere in sight, Blue stepped into the hall. Dazed, numb, he found his way back down the locker-lined corridor. His pace quickened as he passed the boys’ room, in the event Cameron might be in there. Reaching the end of the hall, Blue braced his arm against the panic bar and shoved the heavy door open. He rounded the corner to the stairs. He stopped in his tracks. His racing heart skipped a beat. “Hey, Shane.” The former jock leaned against the handrail, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, one leg crooked back. Casual, cool, and collected as ever, he smiled at Blue like they’d once been the best of friends. Blue opened his mouth. Various smartass comments, often rehearsed but rarely acted upon, played through his mind for the first time in years. “Cameron,” he managed. “It’s been a while.” Blue stared, trying to formulate a response, his thoughts racing as fast as his heart.

Yeah, it’s been a while since you beat the shit out of me on a near-daily basis, since you called me a faggot and a queer every opportunity you had, since that day in the locker room…that day in the locker room… “It’s really wild bumping into you like this.” Cameron’s smile faltered, and he lowered his leg. As he stood straight, his knee audibly popped. The young man winced but quickly recovered. “Can we talk?” Blue’s face flushed hot, and sensation returned to his limbs. He started up the stairs. His voice stayed calm and controlled, but his insides were a quivering mass. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” “Shane, wait. Look, I -- I’m…” Blue barged past him and kept walking. He reached the top of the stairs, started across the linoleum-tiled foyer to the front doors. Orange tile, maroon tile, orange tile, maroon tile…

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A hand gripped him around the shoulder. Blue whirled around. He smacked Cameron’s hand away. His notebook slapped to the floor. “Don’t touch me,” Blue hissed, tilting his chin up, looking the other man straight in the eye. Cameron stepped back, hands in the air. The glass-plated trophy stand made for an ironic backdrop against the one-time football star, his prospects ruined junior year after a severe injury had landed him in traction and off the scholarship roster.

And out of my life, Blue thought, but without relief, for here Cameron Carter was all over again like a scar that wouldn’t fade. “Shane, please listen.” Cameron lowered his hands and curled them at his sides. He looked down at the floor. “This isn’t easy for me.” Oh, it wasn’t easy for him ? Blue folded his arms and cocked his hip. “Fine. What the fuck do you want?” Cameron peered back up, and his gaze burned right through Blue. He’d forgotten that Cameron’s eyes were an amber shade of hazel, had never noticed the golden highlights that now gleamed in the other man’s longer hair and enhanced the color of his eyes all the more. “I want to apologize.” “Wh…what?” Blue stammered, breathless, his legs turned to rubber all over again. He’d half-expected it, yet to actually hear Cameron say the words… Cameron shifted his feet. “For everything. I was a real asshole back when we were kids, and I understand now what I did was wrong.” Blue stared back mutely. How many times he’d imagined this moment, and yet it didn’t make a difference. It didn’t change a goddamned thing. Looking at Cameron, here and now, conjured nothing but anger and fear, hurt and pain… …and confusion. His heart was pounding from more than memories of schoolyard beatings and hallway taunts. There’d been the dreams, the ones he’d woken from with tears on his face and the front of his pajama bottoms a sticky mess. “I’ve been in therapy a while, trying to sort shit out,” Cameron continued. “Some of it had to do with you. And now here you are, and I --” He licked his lips, and his eyes flitted nervously. Gone was the hotshot “star athlete” demeanor. “Shane, I really need to talk to you.” “Go talk to your shrink about it.” The chill in Blue’s voice masked the heat of his emotions. He turned to walk away. “Shane, I live in Oakwood now.” Blue paused at the door but stopped short of peering over his shoulder. Oakwood could only mean one thing. Blue decided he didn’t care.

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Once outside, he willed his hands to stop trembling as he dialed Derek’s number. “Class let out early,” he lied in a steady voice.

I want to apologize. He’d left his notebook on the floor of the foyer. He decided against going back inside to find it.

For everything. At last, the Porsche pulled up to the curb. Blue slipped into the passenger seat and was instantly enveloped by the scent of leather and Derek’s familiar, comforting scent. “I must confess,” Derek said with a sly grin, “I find a certain perverse pleasure in picking my boyfriend up from high school.” Blue smiled wanly and forced a laugh -- wanted to laugh -- but all he could think about was the man he’d left back in the hall, and that earnest look in those brilliant amber eyes.

I really need to talk to you. Derek’s smile waned. He reached out and cupped Blue’s chin. “What’s wrong?” Blue swallowed and evaded Derek’s gaze. “Nothing.” “You said class let out early.” Derek peered out the rear window at the parked cars and empty sidewalk. His tone sharpened. “Look at me. What’s. Wrong.” “I’m fine, Sir. I just don’t feel well…” “You’re trembling, Blue. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I have.” Derek studied him a moment. “What do you mean?” “Cameron.” “Cameron…” “Carter. Cameron Carter.” Blue paused, swallowed again. “I never told you his name, did I?” Derek’s puzzlement faded and his eyes narrowed. “Here? That asshole who bullied you?” He took Blue by the shoulders. “What did he say to you?” Blue was startled by the fury in his lover’s voice. “He tried to apologize. He wanted to talk. I don’t know. I just walked away --” Derek’s grip tightened, his nails digging into Blue’s biceps, and his jaw clenched. “I’ll talk to him. I have a few choice words for that son of a bitch.” “No!” Blue said, shaking his head. He’d seen the extent of Derek’s anger taken out on another in his defense. Cameron would end up in the hospital and, this time, Derek in jail. He shrugged against Derek’s hold, and the tears he’d been holding back fell. “You’re hurting me.”

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Derek’s features softened, and a look of guilt flashed in his eyes. He eased his grip and pulled Blue into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said into Blue’s hair. Blue collapsed against Derek’s chest. “I just want to go home,” he sniffed. The silk of Derek’s shirt went hot and wet against his cheek. “Please take me home.”

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Chapter Six Blue flipped to the back of the algebra textbook. He checked the provided answers to confirm he’d gotten the equation right. Triumphant, he turned back to the section review, mindful of the folded notebook paper tucked in the pages between. He started on the next problem. Derek typed with one hand, ruffled Blue’s hair with the other. “How’s it going?” “I remember more of this than I thought.” He finished the last three equations with no mistakes. Blue set the book aside and stretched his arms. With a yawn, he leaned his head back against the inside of Derek’s thigh. He closed his eyes and relished the graze of Derek’s fingertips along his jawline. He’d sat cross-legged at his master’s feet for the past hour -- he immersed in math review, Derek at the computer hutch working on a new contract. Yet regardless of his studies, and in spite of Derek’s touch, his mind kept wandering to the note. “What time is it?” Blue muttered. “About that time.” Derek’s keystrokes waned for a fraction of a second, but Blue caught the break in rhythm, heard what he knew to be the rapid tab of the backspace key. “You’re sure you’ll be okay tonight.” Blue bit back an impatient sigh. As usual, Derek’s idea of a query ended with a period rather than a question mark. “Yes, Sir. I’m sure. If I don’t show up, then that means I let him win.” He was answered by more typing, followed by another series of backspace clicks. Blue wasn’t sure if he was relieved or discomfited by his partner’s silence. At least Derek hadn’t suggested online courses again. Blue stood and stretched his legs. “What’s wrong with your computer?” he asked, squinting at the monitor.

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“Nothing.” “What’s up with the black screen and white text then?” “That would be DOS.” Blue started to ask what doss was, but at the wry quirk of Derek’s eyebrow, he thought better of it. “Bathroom break,” he announced, irritated at his partner’s usual patronizing attitude when it came to technical stuff. “You’re taking your book with you.” “Um, yeah.” Blue forced a grin along with a sheepish laugh. “Gotta study hard.” He managed not to slam the bathroom door before locking it. As a ruse, he switched on the vent to indicate he’d be occupied a while, then went to sit on the edge of the marble vanity countertop. Flipping toward the back of the book, Blue found the folded note, the edges tattered where he’d ripped the pages from his spiral. His hands no less steady than they’d been upon the first reading, he unfolded the letter. He’d lost count of how many times he’d read it since Jodi had returned his notebook that past Wednesday.

That hot guy who came in late last time ? she’d said. He was waiting out front on his motorcycle. He asked me to give this to you and then he rode off. Blue had opened the spiral to take notes, and discovered the letter scrawled on the first several pages. By the time the teacher had called for break, Blue had nearly memorized the text verbatim.

Shane…I’m sure it was a shock seeing me, and I guess I came on kind of strong. Cameron’s spelling and grammar hadn’t improved since their school days. It was no wonder he’d failed the Language Arts portion of the GED exam and needed to take it over. Yet Cameron had written this note from the heart, something Blue would have never expected from the former tough-talking jock. Mentally compensating for syntax errors and misspellings, Blue continued reading.

My therapist tells me to write things down. I can’t write worth shit, but it has helped me cope with issues better than I used to. When I was laid up in traction that year, I had a lot of time to think. I almost called you a few times from the hospital, but I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t have blamed you. Blue’s lips moved as he read the next line.

It’s not just that I want to apologize, but that I think you’re the one person from my past who would understand where I’m at in my life right now. The note went on to describe Cameron’s troubled childhood at the hands of the stepfather who’d raised him since his early toddler days. A stepfather who’d been abusive verbally, emotionally, and physically, while Cameron’s mother, who’d endured the same treatment, remained silent. Whenever Cameron made a mistake, expressed an interest deemed unusual, or exhibited behavior that didn’t fit his stepfather’s idea of “masculine,”

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he’d faced a volley of slaps and punches, the bruises overlooked by others as Cameron had been involved in sports since Pee Wee football and was known for being rough on the field. To add insult to injury, the socks and blows were accompanied with verbal taunts and putdowns, many of them the same words Cameron had then slung at Blue after that fateful first day on the fifth grade playground. And that was the part that sent a chill up Blue’s spine. One failed grade on Cameron’s part had led to their encounter on the school playground that day, and it had changed Blue’s life irreversibly.

I was embarrassed about being held back that year, ashamed that I’d been diagnosed with dyslexia. Here I’d already been taller than half the class, and now I was a year older than everyone and stuck with elementary kids while my friends had gone on to junior high. On top of that, my old man made me run laps around the yard that morning until I couldn’t go anymore. When he dropped me off at school, he slapped me in the back of the head and told me I was retarded for flunking and that I better not fuck up again. I was looking for someone to hurt that day, I guess. And you came up to me at recess, the shortest kid in class, with a gap in your teeth and that funny white streak in your hair. But when you smiled at me and said hello, the first thing I thought was that you were pretty, like a girl. I felt something inside of me that I didn’t understand. I couldn’t explain the feeling, I only knew that it was wrong -- something my dad would say was wrong -- and that’s why… Blue winced at the memory of his first bloody nose, of what would be the first of many over the next few years. …that’s why I hit you that day. When Blue had first confided in Derek about his trauma and confusion at the athlete’s hands, Derek had speculated that Cameron was gay. The third page of the note confirmed the truth behind the Oakwood revelation.

I think I started to realize I was gay our freshman year, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. Not only would my old man have hit the roof, but Coach Lee would have freaked. The other guys on the team would have kicked my ass. Or so Cameron had thought. Remember second quarterback, Zackary Smith ? Oh yes, Blue remembered Zack. He’d been Cameron’s right-hand man, both on and off the football field, walking in his more popular friend’s shadow until Cameron’s injury had propelled the lesser athlete into the limelight. The few times Blue had dared to fight back, it had been Zack who’d pinned his arms while Cameron pummeled his gut. It had been Zack who’d helped Cameron and a few of the other guys tie Blue up and leave him in the shower that day… Which was why Cameron’s next sentence didn’t completely surprise Blue, and yet it left him sick to his stomach.

Zack hit on me in the shower one day after Coach made both of us stay late for drills. He tried to talk me into a handjob. I thought he was joking, maybe testing me, but he was

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serious. I turned him down, and he tried to attack me. I punched him in the face and ran out of there. I’d known him as long as I’d known you. I would have never guessed he was like that, and it bothered me that he could see it in me. I was so shook up over it, that’s why I fumbled the ball at the game that night. When I stretched to get it, I got tackled from two different directions. And, well, you know what happened. Cameron’s stepfather, the man the teenager had considered to be Dad, had only come to visit his son in the hospital once. He told the boy that he’d always been a disappointment and that his life was a waste. He complained about the medical costs that the insurance wouldn’t cover and then he left. When Cameron had started physical therapy, a caring nurse saw that the boy had been broken not only in body but spirit, and so at her suggestion he’d started on the road to recovery with a mental health specialist as well.

Looking back, I realize that I liked you. Only I didn’t understand it and so I lashed out at you. Remember the last time I tried to start shit with you? It was freshman year, but I’ll never forget it. I threw you up against the locker and you asked me what was the matter, did I want a kiss. And pressed up against you like that, I realized I was getting turned on. That’s why I stepped back and left you alone that day. That’s why I stopped bothering you from then on. Because for the first time, I finally admitted to myself that I was attracted to you, and it made me see myself for the monster that I was for hurting you all those times. The lines of ink toward the bottom of the final page had been blurred by Blue’s tears, but he knew the words by heart.

Not a day has gone by since I was in the hospital that I haven’t thought about you, or the things I did to you. Shane, I can’t change the past. I can never take back the horrible things I’ve said and done. But I’m an adult now, and a very different person. If you can find it in you to give me a second chance, I want to make it up to you. I want to be your friend, like you were trying to be to me that day on the playground when we were just kids. A knock sounded at the door. Blue jumped up from the counter. Guiltily, he folded the note and tucked it back in his book. “It’s time to go,” Derek said through the door. “Okay, gimme a second.” Blue walked over to the commode, where he unrolled a wad of tissue to dab the tears from his cheeks. He flushed the toilet, then went to rinse his face at the sink. He checked in the mirror to ensure it didn’t look like he’d been crying. As Blue left the bathroom, the closing paragraph of Cameron’s letter played through his mind.

There’s more I want to say, but I’d rather say it in person. If you want to talk, meet me out back this Monday before class starts. And if you don’t want to talk, then I promise I’ll leave you alone. I’ll drop class and sign up for the next session. Cameron.

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Blue sat at the rarely used dinette table to put on his boots. He felt Derek’s gaze searing into him. The elevator descent to the parking garage proved uncomfortably quiet, the ride to school even more so. Yet when he turned to Derek from the passenger seat to say good-bye, Blue was met with a long, lingering kiss. “I can wait here until class lets out,” Derek murmured in his ear. “For three and a half hours?” Derek shrugged. “I don’t mind.” “I’ll be fine,” Blue demurred. Derek pulled away, grazed a thumb across his cheek. “I’m on call.” “I know.” “He says or does one thing that makes you uncomfortable --” “I know.” Blue caught the snap in his voice, saw Derek’s brow knit. “I will,” he said, softening his tone. As he neared the doors, he cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder and watched Derek pull away from the curb. Once the Porsche was out of sight, he veered around the wing of the building. Hands in his pockets, his books tucked in the crook of one arm, he crossed the back parking lot by the gym. He passed the motorcycle, simple but sleek with black leather and matching paint, trimmed in shiny silver chrome. The jock he’d known in high school would have made an incongruous sight on such a bike. But the tousle-haired twenty-year-old in the black biker jacket who waited for Blue on the bleachers looked like he was made for it. Blue couldn’t quite bring himself to look Cameron in the face. He propped one hip against the chain link fence and looked out over the football field. “Do you miss it?” Blue asked. “Yes and no,” Cameron said. “I miss the rush of the game, the roar of the crowd.” From the corner of his eye, Blue watched Cameron rise and walk toward him. The other man braced his shapely forearms atop the fence. Hunched over, his height came level to Blue’s. “I don’t miss the stress, or practicing in the heat, or Coach Lee screaming that we’re all a bunch of pansy-ass losers.” Blue snorted. “I had Coach Lee for American History. We watched videos half the time that had shit to do with either America or history.” “Yeah, that was one of the few classes I passed,” Cameron laughed, smooth and warm and easy. He sobered. “He was the one who found you that day.” “Yeah.” Blue’s vision shimmered. He trained his eyes on the blank scoreboard, his emotions in turmoil all over again. Nothing sexual had occurred that day, yet he’d been left thoroughly shamed and violated. The resulting bout of bronchitis had confined him to bed rest the next few weeks, leaving him to feel like a wimp in hiding.

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“Why didn’t you tell them who did it?” Cameron asked quietly. “Your dad was Assistant DA by then. He could have had all our asses in a sling.” Blue stood straight and turned away. Only Derek was allowed to see him cry. He drew in a breath and squelched the tears. For all the trauma inflicted that day in the locker room, Blue had come out of the experience the stronger for it with a newfound resolve to never be bullied again, by Cameron or Zack or anyone else. He’d stuck to that vow from that time forward, eventually standing up to his authoritarian father when the situation had called for it. He turned back to Cameron, his tone level. “I didn’t want my father fighting my battles for me.” Cameron nodded, stared back out across the field. “I know I gave you even more shit after you first went punk, but looking back, that’s when you started earning my respect. I guess that was another reason I decided to lay off on you and stop, well, you know…” “Being an asshole?” Cameron shifted his feet, cleared his throat. “Yeah, being an asshole. I figured you had to have balls to dress like that and be yourself, what with jerks like me giving you shit, and your old man known for being such a hard-ass. You had bigger balls than I did, that’s for sure.” “Yeah, well ‘being myself’ was what got me thrown me out last year by said hard-ass,” Blue stated with a wry laugh. “No shit,” Cameron said. “So that’s why you dropped out, too?” Blue nodded, not sure of what to say next when his cell phone beeped. He slipped it from his pocket and saw a text message from Derek.

You ok ? So Derek did know how to use a question mark. Yeah, Blue typed, then hit the send button. “My boyfriend,” he explained. And then it struck him -- he’d just informed Cameron Carter he had a boyfriend as though they were discussing the weather, and he had no reason to fear for his life because of it. “Oakwood, huh?” Cameron smiled sheepishly, chin dimpling and, wonder of all wonders, his cheeks flushed pink. “Well, on the lower end of Maple. Rent’s cheap. I work there, too, at the Oil Pan Alley on Oak and Birch. Used to be the Lube N Tube, only everyone called it…” “Lube Your Tube,” Blue finished, shaking his head with a groaning laugh. Of course, the gay-targeted joke had become an inside one, popularized by Oakwood residents and regulars alike. “You work on cars?” “Yeah, the only other thing I was good at than football was shop class. Boss says if I get my GED this time, he’ll put me in for a management position.”

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“That’s good,” Blue said, unsettled that the visual image of Cameron working under the hood of a car made for a sexy one. “Speaking of, I guess we’d better get to class.” “Yeah.” Cameron fell in step beside him. “How long you and your boyfriend been together?” His tone sounded to be one of genuine interest, and yet Blue swore he detected a hint of…disappointment ? “A few months,” he answered. “How’d you meet?” “It’s a long and complicated story,” Blue laughed, his chuckle as smooth and easy and warm as Cameron’s. “Maybe some time I’ll tell it to you.” And with that, he opened the door for Cameron Carter to step back into his life, only this time around, as a friend.

Or more, nagged at the back of his mind. With that errant thought came the distinct feeling that he was being watched. As they rounded the building, Blue peered over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the Porsche pulled up in the back parking lot, but no one was there. Shrugging off his paranoia, he took the liberty of entering the building first as Cameron held the door open. Their bodies brushed, and Blue flinched -- not out of fear, as he had so often in the past at Cameron’s touch, but at the sudden jolt of attraction which charged his senses. Reeling, relieved to see Jodi standing at the end of the hall, Blue hurried ahead of Cameron on the premise of greeting the young woman. “Blue-kun!” she screeched in delight, arms opened wide with a bangle of bracelets and a bounce of her purple-tipped ponytails. For the first time that he could recall, Blue found sanctuary in the embrace of a girl.

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Chapter Seven Derek stared at the ceiling. Blue snored softly beside him. He turned to his side and propped himself on one elbow. A glance at the clock on the nightstand confirmed it was a little past two. Idly, Derek threaded his fingertips through Blue’s long bangs, the pale streak shining like a vein of silver in the patch of moonlight cast upon the bed. The boy possessed an angelic beauty, particularly when asleep, his features so soft and beautiful that at times, it pained Derek to look at him. And on a sleepless night like tonight, he found himself worrying that he’d taken Blue at too young an age. When Derek had left New York, he’d been a year older than Blue was now. At that point in his life, he’d already bedded a string of lovers, including the one and only woman he’d ever slept with. She’d recognized him for what he was, before he’d deduced that he held a penchant for topping and a preference for pale, skinny boys. Taking him under her wing, his mistress had duly instructed him in the art of dominating another male. As Derek had grown older and more experienced, he’d found his tastes still ran toward barely legal, freshfaced ingénues, with the city he’d adopted as home the perfect proving ground to hone his methods. By the time Blue had tumbled into his life, Derek had lost count of the willing boys he’d brought home and tied up in his bed. His run had only ended after he’d been drugged and lured home by a rapist, the incident leaving Derek to feel that he, himself, was but one step away from being the same type of predator. Blue had shown Derek that he was no monster, and in exploring their physical compatibility in the bedroom, they’d discovered the fulfillment shared between a dominant and submissive that placed full trust in one another. Now, Blue was the only man Derek wanted, not just in the bedroom, but in all aspects of life -- to fall asleep with every night, to wake with each morning and, providing time was on their side, to grow old with.

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Mine, Derek liked to say, wanted to think, but he wondered if it was fair to expect that same maturity and commitment from Blue when he, himself, had been incapable of monogamy at such a young and experimental age. Derek supposed the question had plagued him, somewhere in the back of his mind, from the beginning. With Cameron Carter’s unexpected reappearance in Blue’s life, his doubts now surfaced to the fore. Derek had done his best to help his lover deal with the lingering trauma of those harrowing school years, going so far as to guide Blue through a reenactment of a particularly disturbing incident -- one that, junior high prank gone wrong or not, made Derek want to drive over to Cameron’s apartment, unannounced and in the middle of the night, and drag the fucker out of bed and kick his ass. Yes, he’d done some checking after he’d learned the bastard’s name, and Derek knew exactly where to find him -- living and working on the slum end of Oakwood. Blue may have forgiven the supposedly reformed bully, but Derek didn’t trust shit like “therapy” or “anger management”; someone capable of such cruelty at a young age could have only grown up to be an asshole. Three Monday night sessions had passed without incident, with Blue voluntarily electing to spend time with Cameron outside of class, but if the son of a bitch slipped just once and hurt Blue again -- physically or emotionally -- Derek would not hesitate to beat Cameron Carter into a quivering, bloody pulp.

And if Cameron didn’t slip… That prospect concerned Derek as much, if not more. For all he’d done to help Blue recover from the bad memories, and for all the apologies that Cameron had offered, one aspect remained unresolved -- the fact that Blue had been attracted to his abuser and still suffered confusion over it. Only Cameron could offer Blue closure in that respect, and if the opportunity presented itself, Derek knew he had no right to stand in the way. It was that possibility that ate him up inside, that scenario which kept him awake as his angel-faced lover rested peacefully at his side. Derek slid out from under the covers, the satin slick against his buttocks. Instantly, his flesh turned cold where Blue’s body had warmed him. He slipped into his robe and went to the refrigerator. The kitchen floor proved frigid against his bare feet, indicating that winter lurked around the corner. He opened the freezer and took out his emergency pack of smokes. As Derek thumbed the latch on the balcony door, he heard Blue stir in the bed. The boy uttered a single word, then turned his face into the pillows and resumed snoring. Derek froze, stung as if slapped. Gathering his bearings, he closed the door with a soft click. Bathed in moonlight, he leaned against the balustrade. He stared, without really looking, at the silhouette of the skyline that hulked just a few blocks away.

Cameron, Blue had whispered in his sleep. Heedless of the chill autumn air, Derek lit up his first cigarette since the night Blue had been kidnapped.

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***** Blue gently threaded his fingers through April’s hair, just above the loose weave of her braid. He gave a light tug. She tilted her chin up. He licked his lips, his nervous gaze meeting hers. “I’ve never done this before.” “It’s okay,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “Neither have I.” Jodi stepped up behind them. She wrapped one arm around Blue’s waist and placed her other hand on his. “It’s all right, Blue-kun,” she breathed in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’ll help you. Now do it just…like…this…” Of course, neither he nor Jodi had any idea what the hell they were doing, but April seemed willing to experiment. Blue steeled himself with a slow, steady breath. No turning back, he thought. His hand moved with Jodi’s. The scissors snipped, and the braid went slack in his hand. With a relieved puff of his cheeks, Blue held the braid up in triumph. At Jodi’s squeal of excitement, April’s eyes flew open. She studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her shocked expression giving way to one of satisfaction. “Oh, wow, I love it!” Fingering the layers that fell around her face, she aimed her cell phone toward the mirror and snapped a self-portrait. “I’m documenting the whole process for my blog.” “You’re so scene,” Blue teased. Jodi reverently took the braid from him and stretched it between her hands. She gaped in amazement. “Wow, April-chan, I’d say this is well over the minimum length requirement.” She coiled the braid into a gallon-size plastic bag and then zipped it tight. Setting the bag aside, Jodi looked over the checklist she’d printed from the Net. “Okay, just to double-check, you washed and completely dried your hair, with no styling products, before you came over?” “Check,” April replied. “Great. We just need to get a padded envelope and mail it in.” “How’s the back?” April asked Blue. “Um, not so good.” Blue nudged her head forward, tunneling his hand up and through her hair, fascinated with the way the choppy layers fell back into place, thrilling to the silken-smooth texture where the strands slipped between his fingers. While he enjoyed combing his hands through Derek’s hair, that was for sensual, intimate reasons. Playing with April’s hair served more to satisfy his tactile curiosity. “Yeah,” Jodi agreed, hugging Blue with both arms and resting her chin on his shoulder. “We need to even the layers out, but we’ll do that after we strip the color.”

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Jodi had spent her childhood watching her mother cut hair and had picked up a few tricks of the trade before her mother’s spine had been injured in an auto accident. The teenager had quit high school in order to work and supplement her mother’s disability checks, while also helping out with her younger sister. Now an adult, Jodi planned to follow in the footsteps of her mother’s former career, but needed her GED in order to apply for beauty school. When Derek and Blue had paid a second visit to the Korean barbecue, April had asked Blue about not only coloring her hair but cutting it, so he’d recruited Jodi for her expertise and moral support. He looked at the long braid coiled in the bag and prayed he and Jodi wouldn’t fuck up April’s hair too badly. He didn’t want her grandmother coming after him. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” Derek leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, one hip against the jamb. In rare casual mode, he wore a black cashmere sweater paired with relaxed fit, button fly jeans. “Ooh, Derek-sama, wanna join in?” Jodi cooed. Even Derek was not excluded from the girl’s quirky habit of extending her friends’ names with Japanese honorifics, though Blue noted the one she’d bestowed upon his partner implied deep respect -- or, depending on context, that she found him highly attractive. Judging from her flirtatious manner, Blue suspected the latter. Derek took Jodi’s teasing in stride. “It looks like Blue-kun is handling you both just fine without my help.” The girls giggled, and Blue’s cheeks flushed hot. “What are you saving the braid for?” Derek asked. “Souvenir?” “I’m donating it,” April explained. “Jodi had Blue tell me about this charity group that makes wigs for cancer patients who’ve lost hair from chemotherapy treatment.” “Sounds like a worthwhile cause.” Derek nodded in approval. “Your pretty hair will make a lovely wig.” April blushed. Jodi chimed in. “That’s what I told her. Though it takes about six ponytails to make one wig.” “Really?” Derek asked. “Then I’m sure April’s donation will be very welcome.” The door buzzer sounded. “Pizza’s here,” he announced, taking leave. “Derek-sama is hella fine,” Jodi sighed, confirming Blue’s suspicions. “I know, isn’t he?” April gushed. “You’re so lucky, Blue.” “Yeah, I know,” he said with a cocky grin.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about a certain former quarterback ?

***** Sadie opened the door, dressed as always in chic and sleek black, her face lit with her trademark smile. “Hey there, stranger. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

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Derek smiled back, an unlit cigarette pursed between his lips. “My apartment has been invaded by teenagers.” “Ah,” the thirty-something photographer nodded knowingly. “And you’re feeling old and unhip.” “Something like that.” “Come in. We can be old and unhip together.” Derek followed her inside, trying to finger what looked different about the brunette. She hadn’t changed her hair; short, choppy, and frosted blonde at the tips, the style suited her elfin features. Then it struck him -- Sadie usually wore tall heels, drawing her to near his height. Barefoot, she was closer to Blue in stature, placing her lithe, dancer-like build around five feet nine. He took a seat. Sadie had finished unpacking since the last time he’d been to her loft. Framed pictorials from Urban Weekly, the alternative newspaper that Sadie worked for by day, hung alongside the more artistic work she did in her spare time. One portrait series in particular caught his attention -- a set of semi-nudes which focused on young, willowy men with pale skin and effeminate features, their softness contrasted by smoldering eyes, curled lips, daring hairstyles, intricate piercings, and bold tattoos. It seemed he and Sadie shared the same taste in boys. Shifting in his seat, tearing his eyes away from the seductive display, Derek took the cigarette from his mouth and worried the filter between his fingertips. It had been so easy the night before to just light one up. At the click of Sadie’s lighter, followed by the distinctive scent of fresh-lit tobacco, he was done for. “So,” Sadie said casually, drawing up her long legs as she took back her lighter, “how are you two doing?” She didn’t know the full details behind Blue’s kidnapping, as the DA had pulled strings to keep his son’s name out of the press, but it had been Sadie who’d first realized Blue was missing that night, and she knew the incident was in some way connected to the nightclub fire and two deaths that had followed in Oakwood. Derek inhaled, taking guilty pleasure in the rush of carcinogens burning their destructive path down his trachea. “We’re doing okay,” he answered with a plume of smoke. At least, in regard to the kidnapping, he and his partner were okay. “Blue’s getting his GED.” “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She beamed. “And from the sounds of it, he’s entertaining friends.” “Yeah,” Derek nodded. “He’s a bit more of a social creature than I am. He thrives on that sort of thing.” “Opposites attract.” Sadie puffed her own cigarette, gestured toward her makeshift studio in one corner of the loft. “I’d still love to photograph you two some time.”

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“I’m not one for having my picture taken,” Derek said. “But I’d like to commission a set of Blue.” “Hell, I’ll do it for free if you’ll agree I keep rights to the photos. He’s a very pretty boy.” A smug smile tugged at Derek’s lips. “I know.” Sadie laughed and socked him with a light punch to the shoulder. “You’re not too shabby yourself, old man.” This was why Derek liked Sadie -- her easygoing nature. She reminded him a bit of his former and only girlfriend, in fact, though he’d long settled on men and harbored no sexual attraction toward Sadie. Rather, he’d come to think fondly of his neighbor like one might an older sister. “I do wonder sometimes,” Derek confided, “if he’d be better suited with someone closer to his age.” “Well, now,” Sadie said with a shrug, “that’s for Blue to decide, isn’t it? And it looks like he’s decided on you.” “Yeah.” For the time being. At ease with his friend, and bolstered by nicotine, Derek rose and walked over to Sadie’s book collection. His sights immediately landed on Graven Images, the coffee table book he’d discovered during his last visit. He pulled it from the shelf. “Austin Graves,” he commented casually. “Oh, yeah!” Sadie’s eyes sparked in the way that only a person with obscure interests could upon meeting a fellow fan. “You’re familiar with his work?” “You could say that.” “I don’t understand why his name isn’t better known. He was a very talented photographer. I wonder whatever happened to him?” Derek leafed through the glossy pages, some in color, others in black and white, to the photographer’s family portrait in the back. Resuming his seat beside Sadie, he placed the open book between them. “Last time I spoke with Austin,” Derek said, “he was en route to Burma.” Sadie studied the image, of the green-eyed toddler with chin-length auburn hair sitting between the handsome redheaded photographer who could pass for a rock star and the striking Eurasian beauty with platinum bleached tresses. Sadie’s mouth dropped. Her gaze flitted back and forth between Derek and the child in the photo. Absently, she fingered the silver ankh which hung from her neck. “Oh my God. You’re Austin and Sandra’s little boy.” She peered back at him with an expression of newfound awe. “That must have been some childhood.” “It was different, to say the least.” Leaning over, he stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. “Do you mind if I borrow this? I’d like to show Blue.”

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“You don’t own a copy?” Sadie asked, her look one of momentary surprise before some sort of understanding sank in. “Of course you can borrow it. Because, hey, I know where you live.” “Thank you.” Derek closed the book and set it beside the ashtray. He studied the cigarette he’d just crushed. A stray tendril of smoke curled from a single fleck of tobacco which still burned red. “Do you have any breath mints?” Sadie arched one expertly tweezed brow. “I have something better.” She rose, tilting her head toward the kitchenette. “He’ll never know. Come on.”

***** “Okay, hug the wall and turn left past the waterfall,” Blue instructed from rote memory. Sitting cross-legged on the rug, April navigated the video game controller accordingly. The twisted knot of hair clipped atop her head was a sticky magenta mess. “Now what?” she asked. “Drop down. Okay, look behind the flowers and push that rock toward your right.” “Oh, cool,” piped Jodi, alerted by the musical chime that sounded whenever a new discovery was made on the game. “I didn’t know there was a secret passage there!” Stretched on her stomach beside April, she dunked a panda-shaped cookie in her melon cream soda. Nibbling off one panda ear, she resumed reading the manga Blue had loaned her. Blue had concluded that Jodi-chan could best be described as an otaku or a Japanophile, placing her a tad on the obsessive geek side, but he liked her. Perched on the edge of the sofa with his knees drawn to his chin, Blue huddled over the coffee table and swirled a strawberry Pocky stick in his can of orange soda. Angling his head back, he held the Pocky up and let the soda drip onto his tongue before putting the stick in his mouth. “Okay,” he mumbled, sucking off the strawberry coating. “Take the first cavern to the right…climb the ladder…okay, open your inventory, and select that key we found under the castle steps.” April unlocked the treasure chest to reveal a large red heart. “Ooh, extra life point!” she said. “Thanks, Blue.” He crunched into his Pocky. “No problem. Trust me, you’re going to need it when you fight the next boss.” “How’d you get this far in the game without cheat codes?” Jodi asked. “I’ve never seen anyone play this far.” “I’ve got skills,” Blue alluded cryptically. The lock on the apartment door clicked, and Derek walked in, book in hand, his appearance visibly more relaxed than it had been earlier. He’d been gone a while, long enough for Blue and the girls to devour most of the pizza while Jodi stripped April’s ebony

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hair to a burnt sienna, followed by Blue’s application of the tint he’d prepared. All that, and he’d helped April level up three times on the game. Derek left the book on the bar before ambling into the den area. He plopped down on the couch and tugged Blue by his belt. Blue fell back, landing in the crook of his master’s arm, and was greeted with a kiss as Derek stole a bite of Pocky. Blue swallowed the last of his snack and licked his lips. “You taste like cinnamon. Very strong cinnamon.” Derek cocked a lopsided grin. “Sadie talked me into a few shots of cinnamon schnapps.” Blue turned, crooking his knee across Derek’s thighs. “Are you buzzed?” he asked in playful accusation. “A little.” Derek gave another kiss, sucking on Blue’s lower lip and offering a light nip. Blue sighed and squirmed at the faint stirrings of arousal, held only in check by the presence of his friends. When Derek’s hand went to his ass, Blue pushed it away. “Not in front of the girls,” he demurred. He looked to see if April and Jodi had seen. Both girls stared back, April’s cheeks flushed nearly the same color as the gel in her hair. She turned back to the video game. Jodi, on the other hand, smiled slyly over her shoulder. “Oh, don’t stop on account of me.” “Voyeur.” Blue poked out his tongue. “Hey, that’s mine.” Derek turned Blue’s head and proceeded to suck at his tongue with a wide, open-mouthed kiss. Blue halfheartedly struggled against Derek, feigning protest even as he met the kiss, savoring the tingle of cinnamon as it warmed his mouth and sent a rush of heat elsewhere. “You’re missing it, April-chan!” Jodi giggled. “Live-action yaoi!” Blue broke the kiss with a groan. He had no idea what ya-oh-ee or yowee or whatever the hell Jodi had just said was but, judging from her ribald tone, it couldn’t be anything good. “I’m getting up.” “I bet you are!” Jodi snorted. April choked; Derek laughed. The text message alert went off on Blue’s cell phone. Saved by the bell, he thought, cheeks scorching, though it was nice to hear Derek laugh so warmly and openly. His mouth went dry and his face flushed hotter at the name that blipped on the caller ID. Attempting to look casual, he flipped open the phone and scrolled through the message.

Got tomorrow off. We still on ? Cameron asked. Yeah, Blue thumbed in rapid reply. See you then. “Who’s that?” Derek asked. He glanced at the girls, indicating his curiosity as to who else was on text message status with Blue.

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Blue wet his lips, reminding himself to act natural. “Cameron.” “Oh.” “He’s meeting me and Jodi at the library tomorrow.” “You hadn’t mentioned that.” Blue shrugged, hoping Derek hadn’t felt his heart speed up a few beats. “I didn’t know he was going to make it until just now.” “That’s why you two didn’t want to study here. In case he made it.” Blue looked to Jodi for support but found her focusing just a little too intently on the manga. “Well, the library is centrally located,” he explained, skirting the issue, “so Cameron doesn’t have to drive so far. And --” “And…” “I didn’t think he’d be welcome here.” “Blue, it’s your house, too.” Derek leaned back against the couch arm, head propped on one hand. Blue paused. Was this a test ? “I was under the impression that you wanted to kick his ass.” “I completely want to kick his ass.” Derek pulled Blue back toward him. “But I’m capable of exercising restraint out of respect for you.” Something tense wavered behind Derek’s eyes, and Blue sensed uncertainty. “If you’re friends with him now, I’m going to meet him sooner or later.” Jodi’s cell phone alarm chimed. “Time to rinse,” she announced, rising from the floor. “Let me save my progress,” April said. “God knows I’ll never make it this far again.”

Saved by the bell once more, Blue thought, untangling his limbs from Derek’s. Derek stopped him, holding him there with another kiss on the lips, another grope of the ass. He murmured in Blue’s ear. “After your girlfriends leave, that ass is mine.” Blue smiled. “It’s always yours.” He waited for Derek to come back at him with something like It better be. But as Blue followed the girls to the bathroom, he heard Derek softly mutter, “I hope so.”

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Chapter Eight Jodi and April took turns hugging and kissing Blue good-bye. Derek looked on, lips curved in an amused smirk, though he readily opened his arms and canted his head when Jodi stretched on tiptoe to leave a quick but not so chaste peck on his cheek. “Thanks for letting us borrow your boy today, Derek-sama,” she said with a playful grin. “Anytime, Jodi-chan.” He smiled down at her. With one arm around Jodi, he reached toward April, who stood shyly by, and tucked one chunky fuchsia layer behind her ear. “This cut suits you,” he said, brushing his thumb across her high-carved cheekbone. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her face mantled as bright as her hair, and then she stepped in for a hug, too. With a pretty girl on each arm, Blue thought Derek could easily pass for a straight player. It struck him that Derek truly could have had anyone he wanted, man or woman, before that fated night at Blue Ruin had thrown them together. On one hand, it boosted Blue’s ego to know he was the one Derek had chosen to settle with. On the other, it fueled his concern that Derek might eventually tire of playing house with the same partner and go back to playing the field. Granted, Derek wasn’t getting any younger, but neither was Blue, and he’d gotten the hint that Derek had been drawn to him partly by his young age and boyish looks. As both girls stepped into the elevator, Derek pulled Blue in a close embrace. “Let’s fuck with them,” he murmured, and then proceeded to grab Blue’s ass. Before Blue could agree or protest, he found his mouth pried with a passionate kiss. “Sweet Jesus, I think my brain just leaked out of my nose,” Jodi said as the elevator doors hissed shut.

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Blue tried to pull away from Derek. “You horrible, evil man!” he laughed. “Teasing those poor girls and getting them all worked up.” “They seemed to enjoy it.” His hold still around Blue’s waist, Derek started back down the hall. “April’s hair really does look good,” he commented. “You and Jodi did a nice job.” “You think so?” Blue smiled, leaning into his partner. “April wanted more of a bubble gum pink, but I convinced her that a darker shade would favor her complexion. I blended three different tints to make it work.” Blue waited a beat before running his next thought by Derek. “Jodi wants me to apply for cosmetology school with her. She says I have a natural talent for hair.” “I’d have to concur with Miss Jodi-chan,” Derek said. “Check the school’s credentials, though. Make sure they’re state board approved.” Blue had expected a left-brained white-collar type like Derek to deride the idea, but the older man sounded genuinely interested and supportive. “I had fun today but…I don’t know,” Blue said, weighing the idea out loud for his own benefit. “I’m sure my dad would love knowing I’ve invested his hard-earned money in something he’d consider, well…gay, instead of attending law school or whatever he had in mind for me.” Derek shrugged. “If hair design is something you’re good at, then you’re good at it. You just happen to be gay, too. Fuck stereotypes.” Opening the door, he ushered Blue back into the loft with a warm press of the palm against the tailbone. “And I wasn’t aware you’d started giving a shit what Jim thinks.” “I wasn’t aware you’d starting call my dad Jim.” He was cut off with a passionate, heated kiss, Derek’s tongue sweeping his mouth as one hand groped between his buttocks. “What…was that for?” Blue asked, catching his breath. “I told you that when the girls left, your ass was mine.” “What are you going to do with it, Sir?” Blue teased. “More like what you’re going to do with it,” Derek murmured, nudging him back into the center of the den before stepping away. “Get undressed.” “Yes, Sir,” Blue said, his face instantly scalding. Derek took his place on the short sofa. Reclining comfortably, he rested his arms on the back of the couch and spread his knees wide. The evidence of his desire strained against the denim of his jeans.

Good, Blue thought, hiding his smirk, feeling a little less vulnerable. As many times as Derek had seen him naked, Blue still experienced a twinge of modesty when ordered to undress in the light as his master watched. He knew the rules -- to take it nice and slow while looking Derek in the eye. Thankful he wasn’t wearing a button-down shirt, he slipped off his T-shirt. His nipple and navel piercings glinted in the lamplight.

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To Blue’s surprise, he found he would have preferred to make a show of opening each button, one by one, gradually revealing his torso. Gaining confidence, he bit into his lower lip and peered seductively at Derek as he unbuckled his belt and slid it slowly from his belt loops. He unzipped his jeans, offering Derek a peek at his pubes. Turning around, he shimmied out of his jeans, exaggerating the wiggle of his hips. At Derek’s soft chuckle, he grew self-conscious all over again, worrying that perhaps his actions proved a bit too campy. “Turn around,” Derek urged. He arched an eyebrow at Blue’s cock, which had grown only partially erect. “Get yourself nice and hard.” Thoroughly embarrassed, Blue fisted his shaft and began to pump it slowly, deliberately, just like Derek expected. Cheeks blazing, he maintained eye contact with his master. “Would you rather I got you hard?” Derek asked. “Yes, Sir,” Blue muttered. Derek sighed and shook his head, though his eyes shone with affection. “I spoil you entirely too much. Come here.” Blue took a step forward; Derek eyes went hard. “No. On your knees.” This was new; Derek had never made him crawl before. Always up for a challenge and willing to experiment, Blue obediently got down on all fours. He diligently crawled across the den, his bare rump tilted, his knees scraping against the rug, his anticipation growing as he drew closer to the sofa. He reached his waiting master and looked up expectantly. Derek reached down and thumbed his chin. “Get us both ready,” Derek commanded thickly. “Yes, Sir,” Blue said, concealing his annoyance that he was still expected to do the work. He much preferred to be tied up and at Derek’s supposed mercy. Feeling brazen again, he decided two could play at that game. He took his sweet time unbuttoning Derek’s fly. He tugged at the waistband, Derek lifting enough so that Blue could pull the jeans to mid-thigh. He taunted the master, sucking his fingers into his mouth one by one, giving them the attention that could be better directed to Derek’s cock. After a minute of this, Derek’s eyes narrowed. “I said to get us both ready,” he growled. “Sorry, Sir.” Blue smiled innocently. Reaching down between his legs, Blue slid his fingers under his balls and between the cleft of his buttocks. He circled the tender ring of flesh with his fingertips before knuckling in one digit, then two, followed by a third. He aimed for the prostate, but in his strained position couldn’t quite reach it. Frustrated, he grabbed Derek’s shaft at the tip and pulled down hard to the base. The flesh pulled tight, the veins bulging, he darted his tongue up and down the rigid length, flexing so that his piercing flicked against the sensitive delta where Derek’s glans met the shaft. “Oh, God,” Derek hissed, teeth bared. “Don’t, it’s too much…”

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With wicked glee, Blue wrapped his tongue around the head and suckled as hard as he could. Derek seized him by the hair and jerked his head back with a loud pop. Derek glowered down at him. “Get up here and ride me, you brat.” Triumphant, Blue climbed onto Derek’s lap and readied himself in a straddling position. His victory quickly faded to disappointment as Derek’s arms remained on the back of the couch. Sulking, Blue reached behind his ass with both hands. Spreading himself open with his fingers, he maneuvered Derek’s cock until the glans breached his entrance. Gritting his teeth, he swiveled his hips and worked himself down, stretching his passage an inch at a time until he’d engulfed Derek’s full length. “Take it up slow,” Derek instructed, his eyes glazing over, his face suffused with pleasure. “Careful, don’t lose me…good, now slam down --” Derek huffed and groaned and thrust upward as Blue’s ass slapped against him. “Again,” he urged, “just like that -- yes, again…” As Blue fell into Derek’s rhythm, he dipped his lower spine, increasing the pressure against his prostate. He looked down and reveled in the sight of Derek, the older man’s throat arched, his hair draped down the back of the sofa, the master now at the mercy of his pet. Of his own accord, Blue began to stroke his cock. As he neared climax he sped up the pace, grinding harder, his hand flying faster, uncaring at that point if he was disobeying orders. Knees splayed, Blue impaled himself as deeply as he could and held there. The orgasm tore through him. He threw his head back and cried up at the ceiling, dimly aware that Derek had reached peak with him. He hunched over, panting, ribs fluttering with shallow gasps, and pressed his brow against Derek’s. “Shit,” he muttered, “I got jizz all over your nice sweater.” “Brat.” Derek patted him tenderly on the rump. “The baby shampoo is under the sink.” “Huh?” Blue’s head jerked up, startled. “What the fuck do we have baby shampoo for?”

***** Back in his jeans but minus his shirt, Blue rested his head on Derek’s thigh and flipped through the photo book propped against his knees. “Your dad photographed The Ramones? No way.” He flipped the page and blinked, stunned. “Oh my God. David Bowie? That’s David fucking Bowie.” “Yes,” Derek murmured, also shirtless, distracted by the laptop settled in the crook of his knee, “that’s David fucking Bowie.” “Did you meet any of these people?” Blue asked in awe. “Some of them,” Derek shrugged. “Your last day of class is next month on the seventeenth, right?”

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“Yeah,” Blue answered, turning to the center pages of the book. “Why?” He immediately identified the striking Eurasian model as Derek’s mother. Even before he read the inset, even if he hadn’t known she’d bleached her hair white, Blue recognized the distinctive eyes and generous lips as those of the man he loved and woke up next to every day. Derek’s fingers tapped rapidly across the keyboard as he spoke. “This new company I’m contracted with wants to fly me in for a meeting to discuss the project. I’ll have to stay overnight.” With his free hand, he languidly combed Blue’s hair. “They’re putting me up in a nice hotel. You could come with me. Order room service and soak in the hot tub all day while I’m kissing ass in the board room.” “Sounds cool,” Blue said. “What day?” He brushed his fingertips almost reverently across the page as he traced one sharp cheekbone. So this was the woman he had to thank. He wondered if he might meet her someday. “The twenty-fifth.” Blue sat up and put the book aside. “I’m scheduled for my test that day.” Derek paused typing. “Can you reschedule?” “No,” Blue said curtly, rising from the sofa. “Can you?” He walked to the kitchen sink where he’d left the cashmere sweater to soak. Pulling the stopper, he turned on the cold water and began gently squeezing the shampoo suds through the delicate knit. Once the sweater was rinsed, he spread it out on the towel draped across the counter. “I’ll be fine,” Blue finally offered, knowing that Derek was worried about leaving him alone. “I mean,” he added with a laugh, “what are the statistical odds that I’ll get kidnapped again?” Derek pursed his lips and knitted his brow as he scrolled down the laptop screen. “Just promise me you won’t go to Oakwood. There’s some bad shit going on over there again.” Blue rolled up the towel to blot the excess moisture from the sweater. “Like what? I haven’t heard anything.” “The official story didn’t break until today,” Derek murmured, his brow furrowing deeper. “The Maple Street Murders.” “Huh?” Blue walked to the sofa and leaned over the back, peering over Derek’s shoulder. He read the first few lines of the online news article. “Seven prostitutes in two months?” “Yeah,” Derek said. “The cops say there are similarities in how the victims were found. Some bludgeoned, some stabbed, but all of them mutilated and then left in a back alley.” Blue swallowed, his revulsion at such violence laced with an admitted morbid curiosity. “Holy fuck.” He pointed to the screen. “Click on that video. The one that says ‘warning -- censored for offensive language’.”

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Blue and Derek watched together as the newspaper reporter introduced Thomas Vines, the Oakwood proprietor who had discovered the most recent victim’s corpse behind his nightclub Blue Ruin, currently under reconstruction. “Whoa, someone’s rebuilding Blue Ruin?” Blue asked, surprised. An attractive black man with short-cropped hair and tweezed eyebrows filled the screen. He dabbed at his teary eyes with a tissue. “It was just terrible,” said the man. “That poor boy. I’ll never get that image out of my mind.” “Doreena ?” Derek and Blue blurted in unison. “I’ll tell you what the real crime is though, honey,” continued Vines, also known as Doreena Dee Vine, fabulously bitchy drag queen extraordinaire. His dewy eyes went hard, and he waved his tissue in the air as he spoke. “When is the last time any of you Oakwood b--bleep--es drove down to lower Maple and offered to buy one of those boys a cup of coffee and a sandwich, maybe give them a warm place to sleep for the night without them having to suck some ugly old married man’s c--bleep to get by another day? Nooo, you queens drive by in your Bimmers or Mercedes and pretend you don’t see them. Well, Miss Doreena sees them. When my new club opens, I want those boys to know that any of them can come by anytime and wash dishes in exchange for a hot plate of food, and they don’t have to blo--bleep me for it.” “Wow, Doreena,” said Blue in admiration, “tell us how you really feel.” Derek’s text message alert sounded. He pulled his smartphone from his jeans’ pocket. He passed the laptop to Blue. “My agent needs me to call her and cinch details on the trip. I’ll take this outside.” Blue sat down and finished reading the article. His heart skipped a beat as he scrolled back up and reread the description offered by the one and only witness, a prostitute who may have seen the assailant picking up one of the victims. Six feet tall male with slightly broad build, riding a motorcycle, wearing a letterman jacket over a hooded sweatshirt. Police, however, had no such description linked to any of the other six victims, while the witness could not tell what colors the jacket had been due to the dark. As Blue read farther, his stomach twisted in a knot at the list of traits offered by a profiler. Incidents have grown progressively more violent and deliberate, indicating the

murderer has only recently started killing and is perfecting his “craft.” Most likely a young male in late teens to early twenties; possibly lives and/or works in the lower Oakwood area. Likely has history of violence and difficulty managing anger; may have issues with abusive father figure@. Cameron always wore a biker jacket to night school. Did the former jock still have his letterman jacket? Blue read on.

Killer is sexually attracted to other men but may be in denial and not identify as homosexual; refuses to seek help for problems.

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“That’s fucked up,” Blue muttered. Why would someone who didn’t identify as gay choose to “live and/or work” in Oakwood? Then again, he supposed someone capable of multiple murders wouldn’t exactly be in their right mind. That, right there, told Blue’s gut that Cameron Carter wasn’t the murderer. Cameron had issues, and Blue knew firsthand how violent the young man had once been. But Cameron admitted to his wrongs and voluntarily sought therapy for his problems, and he seemed very confident and secure in his sexuality. Yet there were still certain coincidences difficult to ignore, and Blue was indeed curious as to what had become of Cameron’s letterman jacket.

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Chapter Nine Cameron slapped his backpack on the table, scattering the pile of wadded scratch sheets. He slipped out of his biker jacket and slung it across the back of the wooden chair. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught in traffic.” “You know that front is moving in tonight,” Jodi clucked. “Isn’t it going to be too cold for riding a motorcycle?” “Naw.” He grinned, rubbing his hands together, then flexed his knuckles with a pop. “I find it refreshing. Invigorating, even.” “Ooh, fancy words there, Cam,” Blue jibed. “Don’t strain your brain cells.” “Fuck you,” Cameron laughed, his chin dimpling. He picked up a ball of paper and threw it at Blue. Blue ducked and swatted the paper away with his hand. “You wish.” “Can I watch?” Jodi snorted. “You can hold the video camera,” said Blue. “Shhh,” the sour-faced old man from the next table urged in chastisement. “Sorry,” the trio mumbled in unison. Jodi stifled a giggle. Cameron spoke at a more respectable volume as he took his seat across from Blue. He pushed up the sleeves of his black henley pullover. “Okay, let’s get to work.” “What do you think we’ve been doing the past hour?” Blue groused, trying his best to ignore the inexplicably sexy sight of Cameron’s strong forearms. It had been this way the past few Fridays that Cameron and Blue had studied together, with no malice between them -- just good-natured ribbing touched with a hint of flirtation as Blue battled the confusing, complex attraction he’d always harbored toward the other man. Of course, they hadn’t spent any time together without Jodi, who seemed happy in her

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role as buffer. She’d gotten the hint that she provided Blue an alibi of sorts and was the reason Derek didn’t completely flip whenever Blue went to the library. He was beyond trying to defend his and Cameron’s friendship, but then he wasn’t quite sure he understood it himself. Cameron slouched down in his seat and stretched his legs. “Are you playing footsie with me again?” Jodi asked. “Oh, sorry,” said Cameron, looking sheepish. “Didn’t mean to kick you.” “I’m jealous,” said Blue in mock pout. “He never plays footsie with me.” The patron at the next table rose with a loud harrumph. He cast the young trio a look of disapproval as he stomped off. “Man, talk about someone who needs to get laid,” said Jodi. She elbowed Blue in the ribs. “You like older men. Go get him, Blue-kun.” “Bitch.” “Takes one to know one.” Cameron hid his face behind a book. “I don’t know either of you bakas,” he informed them, borrowing Jodi’s use of the Japanese word for idiot. They always had a good time at the library. It was like they were schoolkids all over again, only this time, it proved a hell of a lot more fun. Yet somehow, they always managed to hunker down and get some actual studying accomplished. Cameron had an uncanny knack for solving complicated equations in his head, so he tutored Jodi and Blue in math. In turn they drilled Cameron on grammar basics, which made more sense to him when the information was presented verbally. They weren’t able to help their dyslexic friend on the written essay and reading comprehension portions of the exam, however. Cameron was on his own in those areas, and he’d expressed anxiety that he’d fail the Language Arts test again because of those particular weak spots. Another hour passed. The table started vibrating. “Jodi,” Blue clucked with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “how many times have I told you -- no toys at the library?” “I thought you might be taking donations,” she shot back without skipping a beat. She caught her hot pink cell phone as it buzzed across the table with a jingle of charms and trinkets. Blue swore that girl had more crap dangling from her phone than a janitor had keys. “It’s my mom.” She answered the call in a hushed tone as Blue and Cameron put their heads together and discussed dangling participles. It both thrilled and unnerved Blue to be so close to the other man, to listen to that soft, low voice, to breathe in that unique fragrance of fresh soap and shampoo masking the lingering, earthier scents of oil and grease. Blue did his best to focus on the textbook between them rather than the queasy warmth that radiated from the pit of his abdomen.

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“I have to go,” Jodi said, flipping her phone shut and scooting her chair back. “Mom just got a call from the school nurse. My sister’s running a fever, and since I’ve got the car, I need to pick her up.” “I can take Blue home,” Cameron offered before Blue could open his mouth.

***** Blue was left less unnerved by his first motorcycle ride than by the arousal he’d experienced pressed up against Cameron’s broad backside, his inner thighs rubbing against the other man’s hips as the seat had vibrated beneath them. By the time they’d cruised around the small man-made lake at the city park, Blue had calmed enough to enjoy the sense of freedom lent by the wind in his hair and on his face, thrilling to the almost sensual act of tandem when he leaned with Cameron around the curves. His desire, however, lingered after Cameron parked the bike. Curbing his unwitting lust, Blue sat cross-legged on the seat of the motorcycle, trusting the kickstand would hold against his weight. Cameron stood at the window of the ice cream truck, chatting amicably with the vendor. Once Cameron made his purchase, the vendor made a U-turn and drove off, leaving Blue and Cameron the lone occupants of the dead end parking lot. “Here,” Cameron said, passing Blue his requested raspberry rocket pop. “My treat. Guy was selling everything half off before the cold front hits.” Cameron crooked a leg and braced one hip against the gas tank. Blue sampled the ice pop, then pulled it from his mouth with a sound of suction. “If raspberries are red, why is raspberry-flavored stuff blue?” “Good question,” said Cameron. Squinting, he held his own rocket pop next to Blue’s face. “Hey, it matches your hair.” “What about my tongue?” Blue stuck his tongue out. “Yep, that’s blue, too. Hey, whoa, when did you get your tongue pierced?” “On my eighteenth birthday, right before I left home. My dad shit a brick.” “Did it hurt?” “Yeah, but I kind of dig pain.” Cameron smiled wryly, his amber eyes pensive. He sucked on his ice pop and looked toward the lake. Blue followed his gaze to the ducks gathered near the shore where they pecked and fought over a scattering of bread crumbs. Soon the flock would take flight and head toward warmer climes. “I haven’t used my fists in years,” Cameron said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, not like I did you, not like my dad did me.” “But…” Blue prodded, sensing Cameron’s unfinished thoughts.

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Cameron folded one arm and turned so that his shapely ass now propped the bike. He crossed one ankle in front of the other. “People into, you know, bondage and stuff -- is that healthy? Like that de Sade dude…” Blue cocked a grin and socked a light punch against Cameron’s shoulder. “You’ve read up on the Marquis, eh? I’m impressed.” “Well, I caught a late-night movie on cable about him.” Blue nursed his ice pop, feigning thoughtfulness, giving himself a moment to catch his breath and act casual before phrasing his next question. “And does, you know, ‘bondage and stuff’ turn you on?” “A little.” Blue couldn’t help himself. It was entirely too amusing to watch Cameron Carter blush. “It’s okay,” he said, in the mood to shock and titillate. “Derek and I are into that sort of thing.” “Really?” Cameron’s gaze snapped back toward Blue, and his tone sharpened. “But how… I mean, you let your boyfriend do that to you?” “He doesn’t abuse me,” Blue said, suddenly in defensive mode, more so for Derek than himself. “He’s very…controlled in his approach, and I’ve always consented.” Verbalizing the dynamics of their relationship, Blue found himself in the midst of self-realization, the words becoming truth as he spoke them. “And he knows where to draw the line, sometimes better than I do.” Cameron looked back at the ducks. “And what if the dominant partner doesn’t know how to draw that line? What if they cross it?” “I don’t know,” Blue said. He hadn’t given much thought to the responsibilities entailed on his master’s part; he was generally too busy enjoying things from the receiving end. He wondered how Derek had gotten so good at walking that fine line, of knowing just how to blend the pleasure and the pain without taking the latter element too far. Must have had a lot of practice before I came along, Blue thought. A pang of jealousy wrenched his gut, the bile rising in his throat. He swallowed it back; after all, hadn’t he been drawn to Derek partly because of the older man’s experience? “Change of subject.” Blue steeled himself, ready to ask the question he’d tossed around since the news broadcast with Doreena. He really didn’t think Cameron was involved with the murders, but he was admittedly, morbidly, curious about something. “Do you still have your letterman jacket?” “Huh?” Cameron asked, surprised, then shook his head. “Naw. It got stolen from school while I was in the hospital. Mindy Egger was wearing it, since we were going out. She left it hanging on the back of her chair in the cafeteria while she went to the Coke machine. It was gone when she came back. She thought it was just a prank, checked with lost and found to be safe, but it never turned up. You remember Mindy, don’t you?”

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“Oh, yeah, Mindy Egghead,” Blue said, recalling the ditzy head cheerleader with the blonde bouffant, her hair usually tied back in an oversized floppy bow as was the trend with her clique. Bowheads, the misfit kids had called the preppy girls in derision, and somewhere along the way, Mindy’s last name had devolved into Egghead. “Sorry, that’s what we unpopular weirdo types called her behind her back.” “It’s okay.” Cameron grinned. “We all called her that behind her back, too.” “You dated her a while. Rumor had it you two were sleeping together.” “Yeah, that was the rumor,” Cameron said. He nibbled at the tip of his ice pop. “Truth was she refused to put out and, well, let’s say I didn’t push her. When the gossip started, she and I were both content to let it take a life of its own. That way, no one knew she was a goody-two-shoe virgin, and maybe no one would figure out I was gay.” Blue paused, his ice pop an inch from his mouth. “Wait, she knew?” “Well, she was the first person I came out to after I was released from the hospital, and I guess the only person from the old days besides you who officially knows.” “How’d she react?” Cameron shrugged. “She wasn’t surprised in the least. She commended me for finally admitting the truth, said she’d always care about me, that out of all the jerks we hung with, I was the only one she’d considered a true friend. You know, she was another reason I quit beating you up. She was the first person with the guts to get in my face and tell me I was wrong for being like that. She told me to leave you alone, that you were a nice guy because you’d helped pick up her books one time after some goth girl purposely bumped into her.” Now it was Blue’s turn to shrug, though inwardly he was surprised by that particular revelation. “I could never justify my friends being assholes just because you guys were. Though Mindy never thanked me. I just remember her being snotty to me that day and then running off.” “She was embarrassed,” Cameron laughed. “And scared to death you thugs were going to jump her. Hold her down and pierce her nose, maybe shave off that massive blonde hair and give her a mohawk.” “She used enough styling products. She would’ve pulled off a mohawk pretty good,” Blue snorted. Cameron chuckled with him. “I made the mistake of running my hands through her hair once while we were making out. I never knew hair could crunch.” He bit off the tip of his ice pop, exposing the vanilla ice cream center. “So you’re a biter,” Blue teased. “I’m impatient,” Cameron mumbled around the food in his mouth. “I wonder how many licks it takes to get to the filling? I’d say I’m up to about ten, so let’s start with eleven.” Blue took a long lick from the squared base to the rounded tip, then stuck it in his mouth. He nudged the back of his throat before pulling out. “Twelve.” He

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repeated the cycle, tilting his chin up and stretching his throat. With his tonsils gone numb, he swallowed the rocket pop an inch deeper. Cameron licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with an audible click. He finished his ice pop with a third bite. He flicked the stick toward the nearby garbage can. He wrapped his hand around Blue’s. “Thirteen,” he counted, and took a lick of Blue’s Popsicle. “Fourteen…” Blue muttered, following suit. He angled the ice pop back toward Cameron’s lips. Their faces drew closer. “Fifteen.” Cameron bit down and took off the top two inches. “It takes fifteen,” he mumbled. “Cheater,” Blue murmured. “Give me back my Popsicle.” Their lips brushed, and Blue sucked the bite of raspberry-tinted vanilla cream from Cameron’s mouth. The ice melted and, for a brief, heady moment, their tongues touched and their mouths warmed. Cameron pulled away. He peered down at Blue with a hooded gaze. “Shane, I’m sorry.” The smoldering look in his eyes was anything but repentant. “No, you’re not.” “Okay, I’m not. I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” “Me too.” “You have?” Cameron shook his head. “Why…” Instead of explaining the complicated, guilt-ridden crush he’d harbored for years toward the boy who’d bullied him, Blue simply leaned forward and returned Cameron’s kiss. The other man’s lips on his sent a ripple of excitement throughout Blue’s body. As the kiss deepened, he tossed what was left of the rocket pop aside and heard it splat upon the ground. Cameron pivoted, crooked his knee and slid one leg over the gas tank. Straddling the bike, holding it in place, he hooked his hands under Blue’s knees. He pulled Blue’s legs apart and tugged. Blue’s ass slid down the seat, and their bodies pressed together where his legs wrapped around Cameron’s thighs.

I shouldn’t do this, Blue’s brain protested. Here he’d just been talking about Derek -oh God, Derek -- yet his body argued differently, while any hesitance or guilt was quickly drowned by Cameron’s heady scent, coupled with that of his leather jacket and the heat burning between their bodies. Wilting, Blue succumbed to the rough embrace of the man who had once hurt him so long ago, when they were just kids. Yes, it was all in the past, truly in the past, and they were both adults now, with adult needs -- and adult desires. Blue opened his lips wider and drew Cameron’s tongue into his mouth. His cock gone rigid, he rocked his hips forward; putting his weight on his tailbone, Blue found Cameron’s hardness matched his. The other man groaned deep in his throat, his fingers tightening hold of Blue’s hair.

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It was Cameron who jerked away, panting, his expression pained. “We have to stop.” Blue’s breath hitched, and his chest constricted. “Yeah,” he whispered. Cameron dove in for another kiss, and Blue readily accepted. He slid curious hands under Cameron’s jacket, thrilling to the firm bunch of muscles that rippled beneath the Tshirt and across his broad shoulders. Once the body of an athlete, the mechanic’s muscles were now honed through hard, honest work, their well-defined tautness fueling Blue’s lust at some primal level. A snap sounded nearby, like a twig breaking, followed by a rustle of leaves. Blue jumped, as did Cameron. Still clinging to one another, they turned their heads together and peered through the fringe of trees. A chill ran up Blue’s spine as he received the distinct feeling that they were being watched. “What the fuck was that?” Blue whispered. “An animal?” Cameron suggested in a low murmur. His eyes narrowed, and the muscles of his back flexed and tensed like a predator coiled to spring. “In the city?” “There’s squirrels.” “That sounded too big to be a squirrel.” “You don’t think your boyfriend followed us, do you? He sounds kind of protective.” At the mention of Derek, Blue’s stomach flipped and he felt sick. “No.” He shook his head. As possessive as Derek might be, Blue had a hard time envisioning his partner hiding out behind a library shelf, following them to the park, and skulking in the woods on surveillance. But someone@ was out there. Someone had been watching them from the trees. Maybe some old pervert, stroking off while he watched the young boys make out. Repulsed, unsettled, Blue shivered, suddenly aware of the temperature as the wind picked up. The cold whipped against his backside, making for sharp contrast from the heat that still burned where he pressed against Cameron. “I think our cold front’s arrived,” he said. “Yeah,” Cameron muttered, still squinting toward the trees. “I should take you home before the rain starts.”

***** “You’re freezing,” Derek scolded. “Your lips are as blue as your hair.” “P-p-popsicle,” Blue stammered. “Had a r-r-raspberry Popsicle.” “In this weather?” Derek shook his head. He smoothed his palms up and down Blue’s arms, the friction making for welcome, needed warmth. “You look like a hypothermia victim. Get under the covers.”

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He backed Blue toward the bed. He hooked one finger under Blue’s belt and began unbuckling it. “Why are you undressing me?” Blue managed to ask, the chill in his limbs receding, the knot of guilt still hard and cold in his stomach. Derek grinned down at him. A spark of lust ignited his eyes, firing muted green to vivid jade. “It’s easier to share body heat when both parties are naked.” Blue had shared plenty of heat with Cameron, and they’d been fully clothed. He closed his eyes, unable to meet Derek’s gaze. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered, and let his master do what the master did best -- take care of him. Afterward, curled under a thick layer of blankets, Blue pressed his sweat-dewed brow against his lover’s chest. He opened his mouth, started to confess, to tell Derek everything that had transpired at the park. But it was just a kiss, nothing more than a brief lapse in judgment, certainly not enough reason to justify upsetting his partner. For Derek would surely, understandably, be angry, and then Blue would have to bar the door to keep Derek from going after Cameron. And if Blue knew them both, he knew this -- one man would be left standing, and then barely. He didn’t care to see either of them hurt.

No, Blue decided; sometimes honesty wasn’t the best policy. In lieu of confession, he brushed his parted lips across Derek’s chest. “I love you,” he mumbled, and he meant it, knew it in his heart to be true, no matter what had happened at the park earlier, no matter how good he’d felt in Cameron’s arms. Derek muttered something noncommittal, though he offered a tender squeeze of the buttocks in acknowledgment. Blue snuggled closer. He could no longer deny the chemistry he shared with Cameron, but he could damn sure refuse to act on it. Blue made a silent vow that he would never allow himself to be alone with Cameron again. Better to be safe than sorry.

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Chapter Ten Cameron tugged Blue’s hand and dragged him down the dark hall. “We need to talk.” “We’re going to be late for class,” Blue’s protest echoed, backed by the tempo of his boot heels where they scuffed and squeaked against the tile. Cameron slammed him up against the lockers. He grasped Blue’s wrists and pressed against him. Crushed between the mechanic’s firm body and the hard metal of the locker, there was no escape. Cameron scowled down at him; Blue panicked.

He’s still the same, nothing’s changed. He’s going to hurt me, he’s going to hurt me… Their lips met, briefly, tenderly, the gentle kiss offsetting the fierce glint in Cameron’s eyes and the tightening grip on Blue’s wrists. “Cameron,” Blue gasped, finding he’d forgotten the simple, basic act of breathing, “we shouldn’t.” “You say we shouldn’t, not that we can’t, not that you won’t .” Any chance to counter Cameron’s argument was cut off, the next kiss more urgent, matching Cameron’s desire. Blue wilted, his body thrumming with need. He no longer resisted when the other man fumbled with his belt and unzipped his pants. At the feel of the wide, callused palm enwrapping his cock, Blue openly moaned. “Don’t make such sexy sounds,” Cameron murmured in his ear. He pumped his fist harder, tighter, sending waves of pleasure through Blue’s limbs. “Cameron, no, stop…”Another moan escaped him. Cameron’s lips curled against Blue’s pulse point. “Keep that up, and I just might have to fuck you, right here and now.” “Oh, God, Cameron…”

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Blue’s eyes fluttered. He found himself at home, naked in bed, his own hand between his legs where he’d grown rock hard. He sat up with a start. A hint of dawn seeped through the curtains. “You were dreaming about him.” Blue jumped. With a startled gasp, he whipped his head around to directly meet Derek’s cool gaze from where the other man perched on the edge of the bed. In a split second, Blue comprehended that Derek was freshly showered, his hair wet and smelling of shampoo, clad only in his robe while his suit, shirt, and tie hung over the footboard. Blue’s cheeks blazed. “No, I… no.” He shook his head, unsettled more by Derek’s frank, unaffected observation than if his partner had angrily demanded an explanation. He wondered what he’d said in his sleep, didn’t want to know how long Derek had been sitting there, watching and listening. He leapt from the bed, heading for the bathroom, in dire need of a moment alone, enough to fully awaken and recover from the lingering effects of his dream before addressing the situation coherently. “Oh no you don’t.” Derek’s arm shot out, gripping Blue around the waist. The room spun, and Blue found himself flung back. He hit the mattress with a thud. “Derek, Sir, please,” he whimpered, scrambling to get away, his struggle futile against the stronger man’s hold. One hand snaked between his thighs, and Derek’s fingers curled around the base of his erection. Derek gripped tight, offering one harsh, swift stroke, wetting Blue’s slit with precum. “That was some dream.” Derek pried between Blue’s legs. “It’s not what you think, Sir. It’s not --” Blue gasped, startled at the nudge against his ass, and realized Derek’s robe lay open. “What are you doing?” he pled in a hoarse whisper. “Why are you hard?” He cried out as Derek answered with a rough jab past his entrance. “Finishing what he started.” Derek thrust again, his hip bones grinding hard against Blue’s buttocks. Another thrust, and Blue was already on the verge of climax. He arched his head back, teeth gritted and eyes screwed tight. “Look at me,” Derek growled. He thrust again. Blue did as instructed and managed to meet Derek’s dark, narrowed eyes. “Moan for me,” his master commanded, “like you were for him.” A strangled sob escaped Blue’s throat. Derek plunged forward again, wet hair whipping around his face. “Say my name.” “Derek,” Blue gasped from the next thrust, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Derek pummeled into him now, the slap of flesh echoing through the loft. “Again,” he hissed. “Derek, oh God, Derek !”

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The tears crested and rolled down Blue’s cheeks as he wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. He slid his hands inside the robe and up Derek’s back. Clinging tight, his body convulsed and his muscles rippled around Derek’s cock. Forgoing the rules, figuring he couldn’t get himself into any more trouble than he already had, Blue dug his fingers into the bunched muscles of Derek’s shoulders. Crying in shame, succumbing to pleasure, a piercing wail ripped from his throat, and his nails clawed a path down the column of Derek’s spine. The other man flinched, groaned, then kissed Blue hard, muffling his passionate outburst. Their lips crushed together, he sucked Blue’s tongue into his mouth and bit down, holding firm as the flood of release filled Blue deep inside. They lay together, bodies spooned, Derek silent and still, Blue sobbing quietly. The light of sunrise gradually infused the room. “I’m sorry, Sir,” Blue sniffed, staring at the wall. “It was only a dream.” Derek released him and rose from the bed, leaving Blue’s backside cold against the satin of the sheets. Blue heard the slide of fabric on flesh as Derek slipped into his shirt and trousers, followed by the whip and snap of his belt being threaded and buckled. A moment passed, and the balcony door clicked. Chill morning air wafted into the room. Derek finally spoke. “Don’t apologize. Like you said, it was only a dream.” Blue swallowed, another lump threatening to form in his throat. He had to stop being such a sniveling baby. “I love you.” “I know.” The door clicked shut. Derek’s footsteps sounded across the concrete deck.

He hides out on the balcony like I do in the bathroom, Blue thought. He rolled over and caught sight of Derek’s luggage waiting by the door. He sniffed to clear his nose. Nostrils flaring, he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. Heaving a sigh, knowing he was in no position to berate Derek, Blue limped out of bed and went to get ready for the day. He had an eight-hour test ahead of him and, with Derek going out of town, he didn’t care to deal with any conflict. He stepped into the bathroom but stopped short of locking the door. With Derek already showered and dressed, Blue welcomed the chance to take his bath alone for once, but he also knew that in bolting the door, he might invite argument. Minutes later, he eased into the tub. Inhaling, he shut his eyes and slid down. He lay there, supine beneath the warm water, unhearing, unseeing, until his breath would hold no more. He sat straight, gulping for air as his head broke the surface of the water. He squeezed the water from his hair. Eyes still closed, he groped blindly for the shampoo. A sleeve-rolled arm brushed past him and the bottle was taken from his hand. With a resigned sigh, Blue docilely angled his head back and submitted once more to his master. Derek soaped his hair, the older man’s touch now gentle where he’d been rough, soothing where he’d been demanding. “I love you, too,” Derek murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Blue’s brow.

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“I know,” Blue replied with a terse smile, tolerating the scent of cigarette smoke, trying to will the remnants of his errant dream away.

***** “I’m pooped,” Jodi said, stretching her arms above her head. “Me too,” Blue said. He yawned, rubbing his hands up his face and through his hair. “There’s eight hours of our lives we’ll never get back.” “How do you think you did?” she asked. “I think I did okay. It was easier than I thought it would be.” “Yeah, same here, though I’m glad we got to use a calculator on that one part of the math.” Blue nodded in agreement then raised his hand in a high five. “But hey, bitches, we’re done!” “Hell yeah!” Jodi slapped her palm against his, then wrapped herself around him in one of her trademark bear hugs. “I’m going to be a nervous wreck the next two weeks, though. If we get our results on the same day, let’s promise to open them together. Deal?” “Deal.” He stood there, hugging her back, happy to have found a friend in such a warm and open person. “Hey, want to rent some movies and stay at my place tonight? Got the loft all to myself.” “I’ve got to take care of some stuff for my mom,” Jodi said. “Why don’t you come stay with me? My apartment’s not as swank as yours, but I’ve got, you know, electricity and plumbing.” Blue laughed, pulling away from her. He thought of what had happened that morning. You were dreaming about him… “I don’t know. Derek might question that.” Jodi cocked an eyebrow. “It’s not like you and I are going to bang at my place any more than we would at yours.” Forcing another laugh, Blue shrugged and looked down at his sneakers. “He just worries about me. You might say we’ve been through a few hair-raising experiences. He’d rather know I’m safe at home.” “Derek’s not your father, Blue, but you answer to him like he is.” “No, it’s not like that,” he countered. Was it ? A familiar flutter sounded. “Well, look who’s here!” Jodi gushed, tilting her head back. A trio of bats, their leathery wings flapping, began their swoop and dive around the streetlamp, making the most of the scant offering of insects on the late autumn day. “I thought they were hibernating now,” Blue said.

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“They’ll sneak out on mild days for a quick snack,” Jodi explained. “They probably sense that snowstorm we’re supposed to get in a few weeks.” “This weather’s insane,” Blue noted. It had been freezing when Derek had dropped him off at school that morning. Now, he was sweating in his long sleeve button-down shirt, paired with the black wool peacoat his master had recently surprised him with. “Maybe it’s that global warming shit the environmentalists keep warning us about,” a third voice chimed in, the smooth baritone washing pleasantly over Blue even as it made his stomach roil. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar tall figure, picked up the unnerving scent of leather and sweat and the hint of grease beneath fresh soap. Cameron swaggered up beside Blue, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He’d been scheduled to take his test the day before since retests were handled differently. Blue hadn’t heard the bike pull up behind the building, which meant Cameron had been waiting a while. Cameron angled his head, following Blue and Jodi’s upward gaze. “I’ve heard that if you stick a tennis ball in a nylon stocking and then swing it up in the air, you can catch a bat.” “Really?” Blue asked. Torn between stepping away from Cameron and stepping closer, he held his ground, trying to forget their kiss, hoping to forget that dream… “Yeah,” said Cameron, sidling closer, his arm brushing Blue’s shoulder. “The bat will attack the ball and get its claws caught in the nylon.” “What the fuck do you do if you catch one?” Blue wondered, feeling as trapped and dumbfounded as a bat snared by pantyhose. “It doesn’t work,” said Jodi. “How do you know?” Blue turned toward Jodi, using it as an excuse to inch away from Cameron. “You’ve tried it!” “Maybe once,” she confessed with a guilty smile. She looked back up at the winged mammals. “But if it did work, it wouldn’t be right. Bats belong in the wild, where they can eat all the pesky mosquitoes.” “I guess we’d better get going,” Blue said. He started to walk off. Cameron grabbed him by the elbow. “Shane, can we talk?” “We have to go. Jodi needs to get home, and she has to drop me off first.” He looked to Jodi, silently pleading. She returned the look, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “I can wait a few more minutes,” she said. “Meet me at the car.” She scurried away like the traitor that she was, leaving Blue to deal with Cameron alone. Once Jodi was out of sight, Cameron took him by the shoulders. “What’s been up the past few days? You’ve ignored my calls. You haven’t replied to any of my texts. You can’t brush what happened the other day under the rug.” Blue stared down at the scant patch of sidewalk between them. “It was wrong,” he mumbled. “I have a boyfriend.”

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“That didn’t stop you from kissing me, or from wanting me.” Cameron’s voice lowered, thick with testosterone. “You were hard, Shane, I felt it.” “It’s complicated,” Blue said, snapping his chin up. Inexplicable anger rose inside of him, dimming his vision. “It’s always been complicated when it comes to you! You just barge back into my life and think we can be friends, and then you…you expect more, something I can’t give you!” “It doesn’t make sense to me either,” Cameron agreed, his tone one of calm restraint. “I still don’t understand how you can be friends with me now. I keep thinking I don’t deserve it. And then you admit that you’ve always been attracted to me! Shane, how the fuck am I supposed to ignore a chance like this? The chance to set things right? The chance to be with you?” “You can’t be with me ! I’m with Derek!” Blue jerked from Cameron’s grasp and turned to walk away. “And if you weren’t with him?” Blue froze in his tracks. “It doesn’t matter,” he said without turning around. “There’s no point in even discussing this.” Cameron seized Blue by the arm and whipped him back around. That calm veneer, yet Cameron’s eyes burned and his voice seethed with emotion. “It does matter. I need to know, if there’s even a remote chance --” His head jerked at the sound of a motorcycle revving from around the corner of the building. Blue’s eyes went wide. “Is that your bike?” “It better not be,” Cameron replied, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes gone hard as steel. His grip still on Blue, he started running. Blue unwittingly kept up. Sprinting around the building, they found Cameron’s bike in the parking lot, the sound of a second motorcycle fading down the adjoining side street. “That’s…weird,” Blue panted. “Wonder…who that was?” “I don’t know,” said Cameron, squinting off into the distance. “Someone wanting to compare rides, I guess. Wonder why we didn’t hear them pull up?” Crouching slightly, he winced and rubbed his hands down his thighs. “Damn. My knee hurts.” Blue clutched his ribs. “My everything hurts.” He laughed wanly and leaned back against the wall. In a flash, Cameron pivoted and pressed against Blue, planting his palms against the bricks. “Good, you can’t get away from me now.” Already winded, Blue felt his breath whisked away by the intensity of Cameron’s kiss. No, he tried to protest, but caught off guard by the surprise invasion, he negotiated a soft moan. “Let’s get outta here,” Cameron murmured. He gave another kiss, suckling Blue’s lower lip. “Get you on my bike, take you back to my place.”

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All the reasons he should refuse screamed inside Blue’s head, but they were drowned out by the one simple, breathless word that escaped his lips. “Okay.” Cameron had already pulled out his cell. He hit speed dial, then put the phone to Blue’s ear. His amber eyes twinkled with mischief even as they brimmed with lust. “Tell Jodi-chan I’m taking you home.”

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Chapter Eleven Derek followed a long, shapely pair of black nylon-clad legs through a maze of linen draped tables, the soft glow of candlelight imbuing the mauve and muted rose decor of the restaurant. The hostess’s high heels sank mutely into plush carpet, while the hum of chatter mingled with the echo of silver clinking against china. Taking his seat in the back corner of the restaurant, Derek thanked his short-skirted hostess and took the proffered menu. The meeting had gone well, and Derek’s contract had been extended another year. Afterward, one of the associates had invited him to drinks and dinner at a popular five-star pub, but Derek politely declined, saying he needed to be up early in the morning to catch his scheduled flight home. The hotel restaurant -- a fine establishment in its own right -- made for a quieter, more intimate atmosphere, one which Derek preferred to enjoy alone. He scanned the menu, looking for something that would take little time to prepare yet please the palate and be worth his dollar. “Good evening, sir.” A soft, pleasant voice floated down to him. Derek looked up from the menu and met the candlelit eyes of the young waiter. Slender and pale, his shaggy ebony hair obviously dyed though not unflattering, the boy had turned up his collar under the loosened black tie. Unconsciously, Derek’s eyes drifted lower to the studded belt wrapped around neatly pressed trousers. Yes, dressed respectably enough for work, but with antiestablishment touches subtly woven in. Derek’s gaze drifted back up. The waiter was quite pretty, with the smooth complexion and lush lips that always lent young men like him a more boyish appearance, and though a bit taller than Blue, he bore the willowy build that Derek had always preferred. That, and the sly way he peered down through those scruffy bangs, Derek knew the boy could be had with a mere snap of the fingers.

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At least, Derek thought, it would be interesting to test whether his instincts still proved on target. He nodded at the waiter in acknowledgment, smiling enough to seem approachable, but not too much to seem eager. “Good evening to you.” Derek watched, detected that moment of hesitation, saw the light flick of the boy’s tongue across his lower lip, a subtle shift in his hips so that he displayed more of his body toward his customer. “Are you ready to order, sir?” he asked, pen poised to the order pad. Derek let his eyes wander back down the boy’s torso, then to his menu. “I’m staying here at the hotel for the night,” Derek casually informed the waiter, studying the meal choices, “and I’ve never had the privilege of dining here before.”

Smooth as silk, his mistress had teased whenever she’d watched Derek go after the boys she’d targeted as potential playmates. She’d had a good eye, spotting the closet bi and gay patrons at the club they’d frequented, often before he had. Together, they’d enjoyed a spectacular success rate. It had been she who taught him to tie the knots properly and ensure their prey for the evening didn’t escape, though she’d been content to sit back and observe once Derek pulled out the riding crop. His eyes left the menu and trailed back up the boy, lingering a moment on the sexy way that studded belt hung loose at narrow hip bones, before fixing his gaze once more. “What would you recommend?” The boy’s cheeks flushed dark. He fumbled for a moment with his pen before composing himself. “Tonight’s special is cedar plank salmon brushed with bourbon maple glaze.” Yes, Derek thought, it was nice to know he could still make a boy blush. Just like Blue. God, he missed Blue. “Perfect.” Derek pointed back at the menu. “Now, I’m looking at your wine list. I’m thinking a Pinot noir…” “A popular choice for salmon,” the waiter agreed, “but might I suggest a Pinot gris?” “A white varietal?” Derek asked, one brow lifted, unused to a waiter disagreeing with his palate. Even in the best of establishments, he often found the waitstaff uneducated on the finer points of the vine. “Yes,” the waiter explained with a patient tone, “the acidity balances the fat of the salmon rather nicely.” “I’ll give it a try, then. Which label would you suggest?” Derek stifled a smug grin as the waiter leaned in on the premise of discussing drink choices. Had they really all been so easy to take in? Were they really all so much alike that the same approach worked each and every time?

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Not Blue. He’d been different. If they’d met under more normal circumstances, how long would the cobalt-haired imp have led him on that night at Blue Ruin, teasing him, challenging him, before Derek had been able to talk the boy into his car, then his bed? He was startled by the warm shock of the waiter’s hand brushing his. He concealed his surprise, suddenly aware of just how close the boy was standing, of how nice his hair smelled, how tight those black slacks were. Hazarding a glance, Derek caught the playful spark of challenge in those candlelit eyes as his waiter who -- for once -- knew more than he did, explained why the Oregon Pinot gris would better complement the salmon dish than the imported Alsatian variety. As the younger man’s touch lingered, Derek flushed hot under the collar. It struck him that the waiter knew more than just wine, his reactions as well-timed and practiced as Derek’s advances. It was that kind of brat who begged to be tied up and spanked, the type who’d moan in pain even as he wriggled his red-streaked ass in the air for more. So much like Blue… …and yet nothing like Blue at all, Derek thought with a sigh as he watched the waiter retreat and prance off to the kitchen. Nice ass, though. He took out his cell phone and dialed Blue. Two attempts later, he left a voice mail. His brow knitted in worry, he put the phone down on the table, where he was greeted by a tall, crystal goblet being placed before him. “My shift ends in an hour,” the waiter told him, focusing on the glass as he poured the amber-tinted wine, offering his own interesting tidbit of information in their discreet exchange. “But your order should be ready before I clock out.” “Don’t worry,” Derek said with an easy smile. “I’ll be sure you get your tip.” And that was all that he meant. Drink in hand, Derek eased back in his chair, mindful of the welts his feisty tiger cub had left streaked across his back. He’d ruminated over the morning’s events during the plane ride. Now that he was no longer distracted by business dealings, he thought more on the situation. He couldn’t logically analyze why he’d been aroused, rather than angered, to hear Blue moaning another man’s name in the throes of a wet dream. Derek knew only that the stab of jealousy he’d experienced had incited something primal and possessive from deep within him, spurring a need to remind Blue who he belonged to. Whatever had led him to claim his partner so roughly, Derek trusted he’d made his point regarding Cameron. He considered that he might have laid down strict rules of behavior for Blue before his departure, perhaps going so far as to enforce a curfew. Hell, he knew of dominants who expected their submissive partner to log a daily schedule of activities. A few masters even locked their submissive in a chastity device if they were going to be apart for any length of time. Derek didn’t want to be that way with Blue, however. He wanted to trust his partner, not keep the boy on a short leash. He wanted their love to be enough to keep his spirited pet in line.

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But what if love wasn’t enough? What if Blue was tempted to test the boundaries? Pushing his misgivings aside, Derek swirled the glass under his nose. Detecting a fruity bouquet, he took a sip. He expertly rolled the wine over the back of his tongue, tasting a subtle sweetness reminiscent of pear beneath the sharper bite of the vine.

Not bad, he thought as the drink slid smoothly down his throat. He’d leave his sexy little waiter a nice tip indeed. Savoring another swallow, he watched his phone and waited for Blue to call.

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Chapter Twelve Blue hesitantly crossed the threshold into Cameron’s half of the efficiency duplex. The bike ride had given him time to quell his hormones and reconsider Cameron’s offer, but he didn’t want to be rude and immediately demand to be taken home. Out of habit, Blue toed off his sneakers at the door. He slipped out of his peacoat, figuring they should at least sit and discuss his misgivings. He owed Cameron that much, after agreeing to come home with him in a moment of blind lust. “Where should I put this?” Blue started to ask. Cameron ripped the coat from his hands. Plying Blue’s lips with another ravenous kiss, he slid out of his own jacket, the bulky leather falling to the floor. In a semi-turned position, he locked the slide chain on his door with one hand as he worked the buttons down Blue’s shirt with the other. Gulping for air, Blue pushed back, overwhelmed by his friend’s ardor which apparently hadn’t cooled in the least. “Cameron, wait…” He scanned the sparsely furnished apartment, lit dimly by a single-bulb lamp, looking for a couch, a chair, some place to sit, to talk --

And okay, maybe kiss, he thought, yielding once more as Cameron’s mouth captured his in another searing kiss. From the corner of his eye, Blue’s focus landed on the single twin mattress that lay on the floor, sans box springs or a proper bed frame but the sheets neatly tucked at the corners -- and the destination where he currently found himself being propelled. “Cam, slow down, we need to talk about this,” Blue urged, though his voice lacked conviction, his willpower betrayed by his natural physical reaction to the other man’s touch. He grabbed at Cameron’s shirt, seeking leverage to extract himself from the other man’s persistent embrace. Somehow, he helped Cameron tug out of the T-shirt instead. They

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tumbled together onto the mattress, their limbs entangled, Cameron’s bared chest crushing deliciously against Blue’s where his button-down shirt lay open. “What’s there to talk about?” Cameron breathed between kisses, his hands roaming freely down Blue’s torso, followed by his mouth, eager to taste and explore. “You’re pierced here, too?” he asked. “Kinky.” He laved Blue’s left nipple. Blue sighed softly at first, then gasped sharply as Cameron bit down behind the piercing and tugged the loop of the nipple ring with the tip of his tongue, sending a shock of pleasure straight to Blue’s nerve endings. Releasing his agonizing hold, Cameron drifted toward the right nipple, the one Derek had pierced. As Blue’s common sense warred with his libido, he gripped Cameron’s hair, tightening his hold as his fingers slipped through the feather layers. “No, not that one,” he said, nudging Cameron away, succeeding only in diverting his seducer downward. “And here,” Cameron said, tugging on Blue’s navel ring. Hot breath teased and tantalized down Blue’s treasure line and across the waistband of his jeans, sending another zing of pleasure up Blue’s spine and clouding his mind with desire. Dimly, Blue registered that his jeans were unbuckled and that his zipper was being slid down. “Cam, no…we can’t, we --” Blue’s feeble attempt at protest died in his throat, his words cut by a sharp gasp as Cameron firmly gripped the hard shaft of his cock. As the other man’s tongue wrapped enticingly around his glans, Blue’s fingers twined Cameron’s hair tighter and held fast. Blue wondered if it was possible to love more than one man. Plenty would say no, but his heart argued differently and, at the moment, his body didn’t care. Notions of love aside, he succumbed to sheer, undiluted lust. His head arched back against the pillows, his hips jutted forward, and he slid deeper into Cameron’s hot, wet mouth. While Cameron didn’t take Blue’s length down his throat, he compensated by working his hand around the base, making up for the lack of depth with incredibly tight suction, followed by a rapid dart of the tongue against Blue’s slit before circling the corona and plunging back down. Already on the verge of release, Blue lifted his head to peer down at his former nemesis, comprehending that Cameron Carter, the boy who had once hurt him even as he’d been the object of Blue’s fantasies, was going down on him and about to bring him to climax.

In the past, all the bad between us is in the past, and Cameron wants me, he wants me… From the corner of Blue’s eye, he detected movement through the slight part between the threadbare curtains above the kitchen sink. His eyes widened and he sat straight, jerking Cameron’s head back with a loud pop of broken suction. “Someone’s at the window!” There was a sound of bushes rattling, followed by hurried footsteps.

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Cameron jumped up, his lips swollen and wet. “Motherfucker.” He pulled his pants up and went to grab the baseball bat propped by the door. Blue noticed he’d slipped off his shoes somewhere along the way. Barefoot, Cameron bolted outside. “Lock the door,” he called back over his shoulder, “and don’t open it for anyone but me.” “Cam, no!” Blue leapt from the bed, hauling his own pants up. He limped toward the door, his cock still rigid from a state of near-climax. Instead of locking the door, he stepped outside into the night and saw Cameron pounding down the sidewalk. “Get back here, you son of a bitch !” Cameron yelled, brandishing the bat in the air. Dogs barked in response, and a porch light came on. Blue wondered if he should call the police, considering some of the scary things that had been happening on this side of Oakwood in recent weeks. He also wondered why every time he came to this part of town -- an area meant to be a haven for young men like him -- trouble seemed to follow in his steps. Heart pounding and feeling cursed, Blue went back inside. He locked the door and then leaned back against it. His prick throbbed, and his balls ached. Gingerly, he cupped himself through his pants and began massaging the base of his perineum to ease the congestion of blood. If there was one thing he’d learned from Derek, it was how to stave off orgasm without suffering a case of blue balls.

Oh, God, Derek, he thought, a second wave of panic rising. He looked at the rumpled bed, at Cameron’s T-shirt thrown carelessly to the floor. He stared down at his torso, exposed where his shirt had been unbuttoned and Cameron had kissed and teased him, firing his lust, blurring his reason. If it hadn’t have been for the voyeur at the window, Blue had no doubt that he and Cameron would be fucking at that very moment. What in the hell had he been thinking, in agreeing to come here, in allowing the other man to get that far with him? Blue hadn’t even bothered to turn his cell’s ringer back on, as he’d promised Derek he would do as soon as the test was over. Kicking himself for such thoughtlessness, Blue pulled his phone from his pocket, only to find the phone had gone into shutdown mode. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, remembering that he’d forgotten to charge his phone the night before. Cameron’s cell required a different type of charger, too, so it didn’t matter if Blue had forgotten to turn the ringer on. His phone was dead and useless, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to call Derek from Cam’s phone. Of course, if he was home like he was supposed to be, he could simply plug the phone in and call Derek to let him know he was okay. Except he hadn’t gone home, had he? “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Blue hissed, banging his head back against the paneling with each profane enunciation, at a loss for more constructive vocabulary.

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He flinched at the sudden knock on the door. Cameron’s muffled voice wafted through the thin wood. “It’s me.” Blue hurriedly unlatched the lock and let Cameron in. The taller man’s chest glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and his ribs heaved as he panted for breath. “Man, I can’t run as far as I used to,” he laughed. “My knee held out, though.” “I take it he got away,” Blue said. He eyed the bat in disapproval. “I didn’t see anyone, Shane.” Cameron’s tone went to one of placation. “Are you sure someone was really there? I mean, I can understand why you’d be kind of paranoid.” “I didn’t imagine it,” Blue snapped, sullen, arms crossed. He nodded toward the kitchen window. “He was standing right there, watching us through the curtains, and he was wearing a hoodie. I heard his footsteps when he ran off!” Blue gestured back toward the bat still clutched in Cameron’s white-knuckled grip. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t catch him. What the fuck were you planning to do with that anyway?” Cameron followed Blue’s gaze. He hefted the bat and smacked it against his open palm with a solid thwack. “What, you don’t like my home defense system?” “You looked scary when you ran out of here,” Blue said. “It reminded me --” Choking up, he turned away. He’d never cried in front of Cameron before, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. He heard the bat drop to the floor. Cameron’s hands wrapped around his shoulders. “Shane,” he said softly, “I’m not like that anymore. But I have the right to defend myself and my home, even if that home isn’t much.” He turned Blue around in his arms. “And I have the right to protect someone I care about.” “I don’t like violence,” Blue said, eyes trained on the floor, his tears held at bay. “I swear, you and Derek both --” He halted, deciding Derek was not the best comparison to bring up at that moment. “Derek?” Cameron said, puzzled. “You’ve always made him sound like this cosmopolitan dude who gets manicures and shit.” “Derek landed someone in ICU once,” Blue said. And he suspected Derek had hurt that same guy again, even worse, before the SWAT team had rolled in that night, though he’d been unconscious at the time and Derek had never filled him in on those missing moments. “Really? Wow,” Cameron said, his skeptical tone giving way to one of admiration. He gave a wry laugh. “Damn. There goes my plan of barging into your apartment one day and kicking his ass so I can claim you as my own.” Blue’s head snapped up. “That’s not funny, Cameron.” Particularly since only one of them would be left standing. Cameron’s smiled faded, and he peered down at Blue gravely. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to come clean to him about us.” Blue felt himself being maneuvered in reverse,

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found himself toppled back on the mattress and pinned beneath the bigger man’s weight. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” “What do you mean?” Blue started, alarmed. “I don’t like running around with you behind his back,” Cameron said, his voice rumbling in Blue’s ear. “I was willing to at first, if it meant I could be with you, even just once. But that’s not good enough, Shane.” “What are you saying?” Blue asked. “I’m saying that I want to be with you all the time, or I can’t be with you at all.” “Cameron, I want…if I wanted to be with you --” Cameron propped up on one elbow, the look in his eyes one of hope. “So you admit it!” “I can’t break up with Derek.” “Why? Because he’s smarter than me? Has more money than me?” “No, Cam,” Blue said, his voice softening. He palmed Cameron’s face between both hands. “No. You’re smart, too, just in a…a different way. He works on computers, you fix cars.” “Yeah,” Cameron snorted. “Guys like him pay guys like me to get our hands dirty. What’s he drive, a Porsche?” “I don’t care about money,” Blue said, insulted that Cameron would think him that shallow. “I’m with Derek because I love him.” Cameron’s brow knitted in a frown. “Then what are you doing here with me?” Lowering his face, he nuzzled Blue’s throat, his lips soft, his breath warm. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same thing I do.” “I can’t,” Blue sighed. “Can’t what? Tell me that you do?” Blue closed his eyes and swallowed. “No. I can’t tell you that I don’t.” Cameron didn’t speak or move for a moment. “Shane, don’t lead me on like this.” “I’m not.” Blue parted his lips and accepted the kiss, but he grabbed Cameron’s wrist before his hand could trail farther. “But we can’t do anything else.” “Shane, you’re killing me here. Just a handjob --” “No,” Blue said firmly. “I’m not going to cheat on Derek.” Cameron groaned, but cupped his wayward hand around Blue’s waist instead. He crooked one leg over Blue’s, locking their knees together, and pulled him closer, their bared torsos meeting with a light slap of flesh and sweat. “Okay, fine. But you’re staying with me tonight, even if all we do is sleep. I want you in my bed, one way or the other.” “Cam…” Blue started to argue, then gave up in defeat, surrendering to the safety and warmth of the other man’s strong embrace. “You have to take me home first thing in the morning before…you know…”

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“I know, before your old man gets home,” Cameron grumbled. “I will after breakfast.” “I don’t eat breakfast.” “You are tomorrow.” Blue drew in a breath, prepared to argue after all. Cameron silenced him with another long, deep kiss. Another hour and several lazy kisses later, interspersed by a few more thwarted attempts to get into Blue’s pants, Cameron thankfully started snoring. Trapped between the mattress and Cameron, Blue’s lips tingled while his cock ached through his jeans against the other man’s firm thigh. With a pang of regret, he thought of Derek, alone in a hotel bed, without so much as a phone call from Blue to say good night. His master had left him alone for a single day, and Blue had managed to royally fuck things up beyond repair. But Cameron was right -- he could no longer deny the attraction between them, and the situation could not be resolved by simply cutting Cameron back out of his life. On the other hand, he’d made a commitment to Derek. Forever, he’d sworn in a moment of passion, only a few short months ago. In response, Derek had chided him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Blue had insisted Derek never need fear such a scenario, and now here he was sabotaging the very trust and loyalty he’d insisted he was capable of. It was unfair, and wrong, to keep his master in the dark. He would talk to Derek tomorrow, before Cameron indeed jumped the gun and approached the other man himself. Blue just wished he could think more clearly on the matter -- a challenge indeed, given his state of frustration as he lay in Cameron’s arms, the atmosphere of the room taut with sexual tension, the bedsheets permeated with the mechanic’s musk. In a perfect world, Blue could have both men -- and love each of them -- but the world was far from perfect and neither Derek nor Cameron were the type to share. One of them would be left hurting, and it tore Blue up to know his decision would be the source of that pain. He stared up at the ceiling, listening as a motorcycle idled by, the rider apparently slowing down to check out Cameron’s bike parked at the curb. He’d nearly fallen asleep when a siren sounded just a few blocks away. Blue sighed, wide awake all over again. It was going to be a long damned night.

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Chapter Thirteen A light rap sounded at the door. Derek stubbed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray, then dimmed the lamp on the nightstand before crossing the suite to the door. He peered through the peephole. A grin of triumph spread across his face. Sobering, he cracked the door. “I see you got your tip.” The ebony-haired waiter smiled, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “Yeah.” He peered through his bangs, trying to look cool and collected, but Derek saw the nervous glimmer in his eyes. “Come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped back, thrilling to the friction of the boy’s taut, lithe body brushing past him. He shut the door and locked it behind him, taking in the sight of the boy’s backside. Still in his uniform, the waiter began to slip out of the black leather blazer that he’d added to his ensemble. Derek reached out and smoothed the jacket down his guest’s shoulders, taking his time, his touch purposely lingering. The boy was taller than he’d realized, but still under six feet and matching Derek’s preference in shorter partners. Derek folded the jacket, noting the supple lambskin texture, speculating that his young guest must have access to funds outside of gratuities. He placed the garment neatly over the arm of the nearby wingback chair. “Thanks,” his guest said, turning to face Derek. Licking his lips, he appeared to be composing what to say next. Derek spared him the useless pleasantries. Stepping forward, he nudged the boy back against the wall. Circling the boy’s slender wrists in each hand, Derek pinned the boy’s arms to either side of his head. No sense in wasting time with small talk; they both knew why Derek had left his room number scribbled on the back of the credit card receipt, both knew why the waiter had followed up on his “tip” and come knocking on Derek’s door.

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His guest’s lips were soft, his mouth tasting of breath mints, a gesture which Derek found charmingly amusing. Deepening the kiss, savoring the glide of the boy’s eager tongue over his, he tested the possibilities. Easing his grip, Derek trailed his hands down the boy’s arms to his narrow waist. At the hesitant touch of one hand on Derek’s shoulder, the other at the base of his neck, he snatched both wrists and pressed them back to the wall. The boy moaned softly and widened his mouth while, to Derek’s approval, his body went pliant. Derek released his grip a second time, pleased when the boy kept his hands in place. His young charge stood still in docile fashion, allowing Derek to loosen his tie and open the first few buttons of his shirt. With a sigh, he arched his throat as Derek’s kiss drifted lower. It dawned on Derek that he’d just been tested as well. His lips curved against the boy’s jugular, the pulse beneath the delicate skin pounding rapidly in excitement. Ah, yes, Derek knew how to pick them, and his instincts had never served him wrong. He took a quick mental inventory -- with no toys at his disposal, he’d have to make do. He could use the boy’s tie to bind his wrists, the studded belt to hold his ankles, his own tie to wrap that cock up nice and tight until Derek was ready to let him come. Without warning, the waiter nudged Derek back a few steps and then dropped to his knees. Surprised, Derek looked down to see the boy peering back up at him seductively as he opened Derek’s trousers. So long as the boy stayed on his knees, Derek supposed he could grant a moment’s leeway. Besides, Derek knew from experience that the feisty ones always proved more fun to subdue. As his cock was engulfed by the boy’s warm, eager mouth, Derek hunched over and braced one arm against the wall. He wove his other hand through the boy’s silken ebony strands. A knock sounded at the door. Derek snapped his head straight; the boy continued suckling him, unabated. “Who…is it?” Derek panted. He peered back down. His eyes went wide at the cobalt hair, the strands streaked white where they threaded through his fingers. His guest released him and looked up. Gray eyes sparked in playful defiance, and lush lips curled in a smirk. “What’s the matter, Sir ?” Blue taunted. “It’s only a dream.” Derek gasped and bolted to sitting. He sat in the bed, alone, in the dim hotel suite, his erection swollen painfully where it tented his trousers.

Just a dream… It was only a dream… Derek thought back to his last conscious recollection. He’d slipped off his jacket and stretched out on the bed to rest his eyes before jumping in the shower. He hadn’t intended to turn in for the night until he at least tried Blue’s cell a few more times. Disoriented, unfocused, Derek made out the blurred numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand. He’d been out for a little over an hour.

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Gradually, he grew aware that the knock on the door had been real. He rose and crossed the room, wincing, his cock weighted with each step. Reaching the door, he peered through the peephole.

The waiter, he comprehended, fully alert now. Of course, Derek hadn’t given the boy his room number; he couldn’t be disloyal to Blue, no matter how tempting the catch.

Except in my dreams, Derek thought, stricken with a wave of guilt. Earlier at the restaurant, he had simply meant to indulge in an act of mere, innocent flirtation. Apparently, he had underestimated his skills at luring and baiting. The waiter must have gotten his name from the credit card, then sneaked a look at the lobby register log. Derek had to admire the boy’s confidence, his willingness to go after what he wanted. And what this beautiful boy wanted was him. With a heady rush of ego, Derek watched and listened as the waiter rapped his knuckles against the door again. The boy stepped back, allowing a fuller view of his body. A zing of shock surged through Derek at the realization that the waiter wore a jacket very similar to the one in the dream. Blinking, regaining his bearings, Derek saw that his suitor clutched the remaining bottle of Pinot gris in his hand. Either the waiter was over twenty-one, or he didn’t care. Reaching up, Derek quietly slid the chain lock free. He lowered his hand to the slide bolt, pressed his thumb to the latch. It would be so easy, to open the door, to invite him in… No one would ever know… Derek released the dead bolt, leaving it unturned. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants to free his throbbing erection. Gripping the shaft now, he worked it, instantly finding his rhythm, his movements deft and sure. With his other arm, he braced his elbow against the door, watching as the boy stepped back and turned to leave. Derek huffed, groaned, and let it all go, squeezing the glans to contain the hot, sticky eruption that filled his cupped palm. Through narrowed gaze, he watched the boy walk away. Shaking his head, shoulders slumped in defeat, he faded from Derek’s scope, never knowing the only two things between him and a stranger’s promise of pleasure had been a two-inch metal door and a moment of hesitation. The cell rang from where Derek had left it on the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered. He strode across the room, cock still in hand. Another pang of guilt stabbed him as he found himself relieved, for but a brief moment, that the caller wasn’t Blue. He remembered the day he’d come home, only to find paramedics and police at the building. He’d stepped off the elevator and immediately been stopped by Sadie, asking him the question that still haunted him when he remembered it. Blue isn’t with you ? Derek flipped the razor-thin phone open, shouldering it to his ear as he made his way to the bathroom. “Hello, Sadie,” he answered, running water in the sink, “what’s up?”

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“Hey! I know you keep late hours so I stopped by your place but no one answered. I need to arrange something for a new story assignment and I thought you and Blue could help.” “Yeah,” Derek said, his stomach churning now. “I’m out of town. Blue’s probably with his friends.”

And Blue’s friends include Cameron, he thought, jealousy rising to the fore. The water warmed, he began to rinse the mess he’d made. He wondered what strange things other people might be doing on their end of the line whenever he called them. Rinsing the cum from his hand, he decided he was better off not knowing. “Oh, okay,” Sadie said. “Maybe you can still answer my question. Can you recommend a good tattoo artist?” “Yeah,” Derek said. “Why, you getting some ink done?” “Oh, nooo, I’ve rebelled by not getting tattoos, since it’s so trendy now. That, and I hate needles.” “Same here,” Derek agreed. “I admire body art, just on other people.” Sadie gave a knowing laugh. “I hear you. Anyway, now that the nightlife hotspots feature is wrapped up, I’d like to focus on some of the other businesses in town that cater to the alternative scene. With a tattoo shop in every other strip mall these days, I’d like to feature someone whose work really stands out.” “I know the perfect guy,” said Derek. “Right there in Jericho Pass. I’m taking Blue in to see him for a cover-up soon.” “A cover-up?” said Sadie. “That might be an interesting story angle. Think Blue and this artist would be game for a feature in the Weekly ?” “I’ll see what I can arrange,” Derek said. He toweled off and zipped up his pants. “When did you go by the apartment, exactly?” “About half an hour ago.” “Would you mind checking again before you turn in and see if Blue’s made it home in one piece? He shut off his phone when he took his test today, and might have forgotten to turn it back on. I’d call one of his friends, but I don’t have their numbers.” “Sure,” Sadie answered. He heard the smile in her voice and knew she understood his concern. “I’ll run that feature idea by him.” “Thanks, Sadie.” He smiled back into the receiver. “You’re a doll.” “Aw, shucks, don’t make me blush now, Derek.” So he could still make the girls blush, too. Derek hung up the phone and tossed it onto the mattress.

Going to be a long damned night, he thought as he looked at the forlorn, empty bed.

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Twenty minutes later, he’d packed his bags and phoned the night clerk to arrange a cab. Once he was at the airport, he’d watch and wait for any passenger cancellations and catch an earlier flight home. He stood outside at the curb. Cigarette in mouth, he flicked his lighter. Turning to avoid the breeze, he caught a glimpse of the hotel lobby through the rotating glass door. He froze, the flame an inch from the cigarette, as he spotted his would-be, ebony-haired suitor, the boy’s handsome face now adorned with black framed glasses. He conversed behind the front desk with the night clerk, a young woman whose facial features bore a striking resemblance to those of the waiter. The young man’s expression was all business as he passed her what looked like a pile of spreadsheets. They talked a bit more before he turned and pushed the button for the staff elevator behind the desk. As the boy stepped into the carriage, Derek saw the bottle of wine still clutched in his hand. The metal panel slid shut. Derek was uncertain as to whether he felt grateful, or disappointed, that the young man hadn’t noticed him standing outside. Intrigued, Derek stepped closer to the lobby entrance and peered through the glass. The dial lit to the top floor, two levels higher than the guest elevator reached. It struck Derek that his suitor must be responsible for more than just waiting tables, and he wondered what sort of prize he’d forfeited when he’d elected not to invite the young man into his room.

Ah, well, Derek decided, it didn’t matter. He would never know anything more about his mysterious, beautiful treasure find outside of what had transpired in a wayward dream. Catching the reflection of the cab pulling up to the curb, Derek turned to get his luggage and return home -- home, where he belonged, in the arms of his blue-haired imp. Derek just hoped Blue was there, waiting for him, when he walked through the door.

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Chapter Fourteen Blue’s eyes fluttered. His ears perked at the musical gurgle of percolation, while his nostrils welcomed the accompanying aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. With a languid yawn, he stretched and found himself alone. Rolling over, he squinted at the clock on the milk crate that doubled as a nightstand, noting the ungodly hour of seven a.m. Last time he’d checked, it had been around four, after he’d been jarred from his state of fitful half sleep by more sirens. Cameron had slept like a rock and hadn’t tried to molest him again, so Blue had at least enjoyed a few hours’ uninterrupted rest before waking up in the middle of a damned coffee commercial. Something soft smacked him in the head. “Hey, what the fuck!” he groused, scowling at the loaf of bread where it plopped on the mattress beside him. “Good morning, sunshine,” Cameron greeted. “Get over here and make me some toast, you bum.” “Hope you like it burnt,” Blue mumbled. He swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and rose. Buttoning his shirt, he padded into the kitchen. Absently, his gaze swept over his host. Still dressed only in jeans, his hair disheveled from sleep, Cameron cut a sexy image as he stood in the soft morning light. God, I could have had that last night, Blue thought with a guilty surge of ego, taking in the contours and angles of Cameron’s sculpted torso. The memory of the previous night’s near miss put him at full alert, setting his nerves on edge all over again. Cameron opened the refrigerator. To Blue’s surprise, the shelves were stocked with food. “When you said breakfast, I assumed you meant IHOP or Denny’s.”

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“I ran the grill at Waffle House for a few months,” Cameron said. “Learned how to whip up a mean omelet.” He rummaged through the refrigerator for various ingredients and set them on the clear patch of modest counter space -- a quart of milk, a carton of eggs, a bag of grated cheese, a package of ham, a stick of real butter, half of an onion in a zipper pouch. With efficient, expert grace, he opened cabinets and drawers, producing a nonstick skillet, graduated mixing bowls, a whisk, and spatula. He started cracking eggs into the largest of the stainless steel bowls. “It’s hard to cook for one,” Cameron continued. “It’s nice to have company. Be even nicer to have a roommate.” “Mmm, caffeine,” Blue murmured, ignoring Cameron’s loaded statement as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He perched on one of the mismatched dining chairs and huddled over his brew. The smell of frying onions had just filled the air when a loud rap sounded at the door. “Watch the eggs,” Cameron instructed, passing Blue the spatula. Blue made the pair of plainclothes men on the porch as cops before they flashed their badges. He heard the ranks and names Lieutenant Detective Thomas and Sergeant James, easy names to remember, if not a bit bland. Wiping their feet, both men stepped inside and hovered near the door. Blue gripped the skillet handle and stirred the omelet fixings, though he had no idea what he was doing. The taller and more seasoned officer nodded at Blue. “Good morning,” he said. “Food smells good. What’s cooking?” “Omelets,” Blue said. Good cop, he noted, and by logic, the lieutenant. The shorter, younger officer took one look at Blue and snorted. “What do you use to get your hair like that? Blueberry Kool-Aid?” “Raspberry, actually,” Blue retorted drily. Bad cop, he thought, and a beat cop at that, aiming for his detective badge. Blue would be sure and address Thomas first; he knew how to follow the script, too. Cameron slipped into his T-shirt. Arms crossed, leg crooked, he leaned against the back of the couch. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” “There was a body found early this morning,” Thomas said. “Two blocks from here.” Blue paused stirring, his stomach souring. “No shit,” Cameron said. “Er, sorry, pardon my French.” “We’ve been making the rounds,” Thomas continued, “asking if anyone might have seen or heard anything during the night to cause suspicion or concern.” Blue started to mention the strange figure he’d seen at Cameron’s window, but decided to see where the conversation steered.

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The sergeant took his cue. “One of your neighbors reports someone from this residence was running down the street like an idiot and threatening to hurt somebody with a baseball bat.” “Um, yeah, that would have been me,” Cameron said sheepishly. Chin dimpling, he rubbed the back of his neck. “My friend thought he saw a Peeping Tom at the window so I went to take care of it.” “And you didn’t call us about that?” James asked, taking a notepad and pen from his blazer pocket. He rolled his eyes to the lieutenant. “Must be giving out badges in the cereal boxes again.” “No, sir, I didn’t call.” Cameron shrugged, though Blue sensed his nervousness beneath the casual veneer. “My friend was just seeing things anyway, so it’s all good.” Blue bristled at Cameron’s comment but bit his tongue. At the smell of burning plastic, he retrieved the spatula from the skillet. “Nice bike parked out there at the curb,” Thomas said. “Neighbor also says that’s yours, Mister…” “Carter. Cameron Carter.” Blue caught the flash of shock in both officers’ eyes, detected the subtle shift in body language as they sought to maintain their composure. Cameron’s name had struck a chord. Unsettled, he turned off the stove and set the skillet on the backburner. He wasn’t sure the eggs were fully cooked, but he had the impression breakfast was off the menu. “Look like you’re in pretty good shape there, son,” Thomas said with a smile of admiration. “Bet you played football back in school.” “Sure did.” Cameron beamed, and his eyes sparked with pride. “Starting quarterback.” The spark quickly dulled, amber cooling to brown. “Until I got hurt junior year. Tore my knee up pretty bad.” Another strained looked flickered between the officers. “That’s too bad, son,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “You must have had a promising career.” James scribbled on his pad. “Yep, nothing as pathetic as a washed-up jock,” he murmured. Cameron stood straight, eyes flaring, jaw clenched, fists at his side. For a moment, Blue recognized the old anger he’d witnessed firsthand back in school. He braced himself, prepared to jump in and mediate if Cameron lost his cool. “Guess that didn’t happen too long ago,” said Thomas. “Looks like you’re barely out of school.” Cameron resumed his pose against the couch, mouth tight, his ribs slowly expanding then inflating as he drew a deep breath. “Well, I would have graduated this past spring,” he stated calmly, “but I dropped out in ‘06 while I was laid up in the hospital.”

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“Class of ‘07, girls are heaven,” James muttered, scribbling furiously now, looking like he was about to jump out of his skin, while his more stoical partner appeared to be in deep thought.

They’re playing him, Blue thought, gleaning information. And Cameron was falling right into their ploy. Waiting in the wings, he busied himself putting the food items back in the refrigerator. “Can we see that bat?” Thomas asked. “Yes, sir.” Cameron nodded toward where he’d propped the would-be weapon by the door. When Thomas snapped on a pair of latex gloves, Blue could no longer chalk up his unease to paranoia. Something was up. He wet a washrag and began wiping the countertop. My God, I’m turning into my mother… “Mr. Carter,” the lieutenant asked, eyeing the bat with close scrutiny as he turned it in his hands, “can you account for your whereabouts between the hours of midnight and three a.m.?” “I was here at home,” Cameron said. “Anyone who can vouch for you?” “Yeah,” Blue chimed in. “I can.” Wiping his hands on a cup towel, he entered stage right. “What’s with the loaded questions? Is Cameron a suspect?” “You got a name too, kid?” James asked. “Shane McGowan.” Stepping up beside his friend, he addressed Cameron but looked at the officers. “Cam, I don’t like this line of questioning. If you’re a suspect, you should be called in for a formal interview with an attorney present.” “You’ve been watching too much prime time detective shows, kid,” James snorted. “These are standard, routine questions, son,” Thomas assured Blue. “We’re trying to rule out possibilities before we finger any persons of interest.” He placed the bat back against the wall and mouthed something to James. Blue was certain he’d said Looks clean. “Now,” Thomas continued, addressing Blue, “you say you were here between what time frame with Mr. Carter?” “I was here all night.” Blue slid both arms around Cameron’s waist. In turn, Cameron wrapped one arm protectively around his shoulders. Leaning into the other man, Blue suppressed a smirk as James’ eyes went wide and flitted away in embarrassment. The lieutenant seemed unfazed. “You a prostitute, Shane?” “What ?” Blue and Cameron both blurted, and he felt Cameron go rigid at his side. He would have expected an insulting question like that from the surly sergeant. “I have to ask,” Thomas said, his tone apologetic. “I’m sure you’re aware this area is prime market space for the young ‘entrepreneur.’ And to be honest, son, you look like half

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the boys I’ve talked to this morning, what with all the piercings and crazy colors in your hair.” Blue ran his fingers through his naturally white bangs and tucked the strands behind his studded ear. “I’ve known Cameron for years,” Blue offered, reminding himself to stay calm. “We went to school together.” The officers exchanged another loaded glance. “You don’t say,” Thomas said, his interest piqued. “Yeah,” Blue said. “So was this another Maple Street Murder?” Both officers ignored his question. “McGowan,” mumbled James, writing on his pad. “You spell your last name with an a or an e ?” “An a,” Blue said, standing straighter. Time to slap down the trump card he reserved for only the most dire circumstances. He’d played it once against Derek, and he needed it now. “You might have heard of my dad.” James paused and looked up from his notepad. “Come again?” Thomas’ eyes widened, and Blue saw the gears churning. “I’ll be damned. You’re Jimmy’s boy.” “Yeah.” Blue took out his cell. “My phone’s dead, but if you’ve got an adapter for this, you can look him up on my contact list and call him directly on his private line.” “No, I recognize you now,” Thomas said. “You were tied up in that mess here in Oakwood a few months back. This explains why Jimmy kept that one under wraps.” The lieutenant turned to his partner. “Get someone from Evidence over here after they’re done bagging and tagging. I want an ID on their key puzzle piece.” “Now?” the younger officer balked. “Shouldn’t they do that at the station?” “I’ll wager our junior district attorney here will advise us if we aren’t following proper protocol. Get Evidence over here. Now.” A look of doubt passed over James’ features. Jaw set, he turned and thumbed a number on his cell phone.

New blood, Blue thought. He hasn’t learned to play the game yet. Blue, on the other hand, had grown up watching the game in action as his father worked his way to the top, keeping his friends close, his enemies closer, a favor bestowed here, an act of extortion carried out there. “Shane,” Cameron said in a hushed undertone. “What the fuck is going on? Do I need to call a lawyer?” “Just follow my lead,” Blue urged quietly. It struck Blue how exhausted both officers looked. He considered that they’d been up all night in the cold dealing with a dead body, a violent crime scene, and a string of unsolved homicides. He thought back to a conversation he’d overheard once between his father and

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Police Chief Nelson, in the days when both men were still rising through the ranks in their respective offices. They’d discussed the role of beat cops and detectives after the attorney had been forced to throw out a case over botched police procedure. Blue had sat idling on his backyard swing set while the men shared an after-dinner cigar on the deck.

Mac, you have to understand, Nelson said through a thick belch of cigar smoke, addressing the lawyer with his lesser-used nickname, a shortened version of McGowan.

They’re in the trenches, seeing the worst their fellow man can perpetrate, and they know that half the time, the assholes they take into custody will be loose on the streets within a few years’ time. They’re underpaid, overextended, and jaded. They seize the moment to get the old justice ball rolling and don’t always make the wisest decisions. Releasing his hold on Cameron, Blue walked back to the kitchen and opened the cupboard above the coffeemaker. He took down two oversized mugs. “Would you gentlemen care for some coffee?” he asked. He gestured toward the stove. “Maybe some of this omelet before it gets cold?” Both officers smiled, Thomas warmly, the other with a hint of suspicion as he tucked his cell back in his pocket. “Sure, kid. Thanks.” Cameron swooped in and got the plates. “Sorry, I’m fresh outta doughnuts,” he said, deadpan. The officers looked at each other blankly, then Thomas broke into a hearty chuckle, joined shortly by James’ uneasy laugh. Blue poured the coffee, momentarily relieved, yet morbidly curious as to what Evidence was about to bring over.

***** Cameron rushed outside, his face blanched. He leaned over in the bushes and promptly vomited his breakfast. Blue turned from the lieutenant, who’d waited with him on the lawn while the sergeant had stayed inside with Cameron to view the contents of the plastic evidence bag. He rushed to where his friend hunched over the bushes. He pressed a hand between Cameron’s shoulder blades. “Shit, Cam, what did they show you?” The mechanic convulsed with a few dry heaves before standing straight. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh, God, Shane” -- he gulped, trembling -- “they found it on the body. The killer covered the body with it.” “Covered the body with what, Cam?” Sergeant James came to the door. He gestured for Blue with a tilt of the head.

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A petite redhead in a smart taupe pantsuit and sensible black heels waited by the table, her face young, her eyes hard, her features expressionless. With gloved hands, she gingerly unfolded the blood-smeared plastic bag. “Do you recognize this?” she asked as casually as if she were discussing the weather or the produce selection at the grocery store. Blue made out the boiled wool vest, the leather sleeves, the banded wrists and waistband, his former school colors nearly indistinguishable from all the blood. Willing himself to ignore the fact that it was human blood, Blue forced himself to look closer. Through the rust-colored splatters, he made out the number 07 emblazoned in chenille on one sleeve -- the year he and Cameron should have graduated. On the left lapel, another blood-soaked patch in the shape of a football boasted 01, the jersey number traditionally assigned to first quarterback. Below the football the name Cameron sprawled in elegant, embroidered script. Feeling lightheaded, Blue nodded to the redhead. He stepped back outside, welcoming the cold breeze against his face. For all the blood, the sight of the letterman jacket had jolted him with a much different shock than expected, evoking memories which Blue had sought to repress since Cameron had offered him an apology. Hands in his coat pockets, he bypassed the former jock and went straight to the lieutenant. “What now?” Blue asked. “We’re going to have to bring you both in to Central for a statement,” Thomas said. He fixed Blue with a pointed look. “I hope you aren’t using your daddy’s name in vain. Your alibi is the reason we didn’t read Mr. Carter his rights and then show him that jacket. Though his reaction and my gut both tell me he has nothing to do with this.” “Oh, God,” Blue breathed, his head spinning. Someone had it in for Cameron, someone from the past who’d been watching him the past few months -- watching both of them, at the park, the school, through the window the night before, bearing witness to their progressing relationship. Each week a young, gay prostitute had turned up dead, the murders growing more violent with each incident. Though Blue had always been the primary target of Cameron’s youthful rage, there’d been others the athlete had beaten and bullied, from fifth grade recess on up, others taunted with “faggot” and “queer” in the halls, the bathroom, the locker room. Forced to seek sanctuary in the nurse’s office, few revealed Cameron, Zack, or the others in that circle as their attackers; the rare soul who did was met with disbelief from authority figures, followed soon after by an even harsher beating as a lesson to keep his mouth shut. Had one of Blue and Cameron’s peers come back to exact revenge? He had to call Derek. “Can I use your phone?” he asked Thomas. Blue took his seat on the passenger side of an unmarked brown sedan. He had no idea what would turn up on caller ID on the other end, and hoped it didn’t alarm Derek too much.

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Derek picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” “Derek, it’s me --” “Where are you?” Derek asked, his terse demand calmly understated. “I’ll explain later. I’m on the way to Central.” “Central?” “I mean, the police station --” “The police?” Derek snapped, his voice laced with panic. “Are you all right?” “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess you could say I’m a witness, but I can’t talk about it right now. I don’t know if I’ll be done before you get home. What time does your flight arrive again?” “I’m already home, Blue. I walked in the door twenty minutes ago. Where the fuck are you? What the hell’s going on?” Dazed, Blue swallowed. “I’m at Cameron’s place. They found something of his that ties him to the latest Maple Street victim.” “What?” Derek’s controlled baritone spiked another notch. “He’s a suspect?” “No, he’s in the clear. I’m his alibi.” Derek paused. “This is about the victim they found last week.” Blue sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. “No. The victim they found early this morning. He was killed sometime during the night.” Blue gnawed his lip, discomfited by the tense silence on the other end of the line. He heard Derek inhale, long and low, then exhale, which meant two things -- Derek was smoking, and thinking. “I see.” “Derek, it’s not what you think. N-nothing happened.” Derek exhaled again. “I didn’t insinuate that anything had.”

You might as well have, Blue started to snap, but stopped short, comprehending for the first time in his life what it meant to be rendered speechless. True, he and Cameron hadn’t fucked, but they almost had, and his attempt to downplay that truth had just been his unwitting admission. “I’ll meet you at the station,” Derek said. The line clicked and went dead. Thomas slid in behind the steering wheel. “You okay, son? You look sick.” “I’m fine,” Blue muttered. The lieutenant placed a paternal hand on Blue’s shoulder. “I know all that blood must have been a shock. I’ve been on the force for twenty years now and I’ll tell you this, Shane. I can stomach it, but I’ve never really gotten used to it. And I hope I never do, because the day it doesn’t bother me is the day I need to retire.”

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The detective turned the key in the ignition. As the sedan wheeled away from the curb, Blue stared mutely through the window. He watched Cameron duck into the back of a squad car, his hands free -- thanks to Blue’s indiscretion -- of handcuffs. In that moment, Blue admitted the selfish truth to himself. His concern hadn’t simply run to worries of hurting Derek -- he’d feared incurring and facing his master’s wrath. He thought of something else he’d picked up from his father -- the definition of admission as opposed to confession. Acknowledgment of presence at a crime scene, or even involvement with the crime, did not constitute confession of guilt. No matter the consequences, Blue had been fated to be Cameron’s alibi that night. Blue resolved, then and there, that he would not stand for being accused of wrongdoing. In the end, he’d remained loyal to Derek and resisted Cameron’s advances, and no one could take that truth from him.

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Chapter Fifteen The ride home from Central proved tense, the ride up the elevator more so. If Derek would just say something, anything, Blue thought he might not feel so sick. The silence proved ten times more distressing, his nausea rising with each unspoken word that hovered between them. Going on little sleep, it didn’t help that Blue’s nerves were frayed from the four-hour stint at Central. Halfway through the interview with Lieutenant Thomas, the DA had stormed into the room in a blaze of power and authority. He slapped down a yearbook retrieved from Blue’s old bedroom, then pulled his son aside. “Good Lord, Shane, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time ?” Cameron and Blue had taken turns going through the yearbook. They highlighted any students the athlete had associated with, friends in green, foes in yellow, so the detective could start making phone calls and narrow down to a short list of suspects. With each name that Blue marked yellow -- some which he remembered but Cameron had conveniently forgotten -- he pressed the neon felt tip harder, his old anger threatening to surface.

You made this, Cameron, he wanted to accuse. You owe apologies to more than just me. Then he’d looked across the table and met Cameron’s gaze, those amber eyes brimming with shame, regret, and guilt, and he’d seen that the former bully blamed himself enough without Blue passing judgment. After Blue had been dismissed to meet Derek in the lobby, he’d overheard Cameron scheduling an appointment with his therapist over the phone. The elevator halted, the swift jerk in motion sending a queasy ripple through Blue’s stomach. Derek waited for Blue to exit the elevator first. As Blue walked ahead down the corridor, he felt his master’s eyes searing into his backside with every step. He stood by,

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worrying his tongue ring against the back of his teeth, while Derek swiped the security card and punched the code to unlock the door. Blue sat on the sofa. Derek took his place in the nearby chair. Leg crossed, he reclined back and lit a cigarette. The cluttered ashtray on the coffee table indicated the severity of the situation, while the stench of smoke left Blue wanting to gag. Derek clinked his lighter shut, then absently turned it in his hand and tapped it against the chair arm. Turn, tap, turn, tap. He took a few drags of his cigarette before speaking. “How long has this been going on with him?” “Nothing has been going on.” “Look me in the eye and say that.” Blue opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to lie, and halftruths wouldn’t suffice. He stood up and walked to the balcony doors. Parting the curtains, he peered out the window at the adjacent building. The neatly trimmed foliage of the rooftop garden had gone brown from pending winter. He thought back to the motorcycle ride around the lake at the park, the day the first cold front had blown in. Derek had made love to him just a few hours later while Cameron’s kiss still burned on his lips. “We kissed one time, a few weeks back.” “And last night?” Derek asked, his voice calm -- too calm. Blue whirled around. “Why? So you can get even more pissed?” Derek exhaled a smooth stream of smoke. “What happened, Blue.”

There Derek went, losing the question mark. “We stopped. I told him we couldn’t.” “Stopped what.”

Fine, Blue decided. If Derek insisted on knowing the details… “He went down on me. He didn’t get me off, though.” “Why not?” Derek taunted, one eyebrow arched. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

What the hell kind of question was that ? “Yeah,” Blue said, his defiance sparked. “I liked it. But I told you -- we stopped.” “Why?” Blue closed his eyes, defiance fading to regret. “I saw someone at the window, so Cameron went to investigate.” He braced himself, ready for Derek to lash out at him over the cold, hard truth -- that Blue hadn’t initially stopped Cameron due to a moment of conscience. “Someone was watching you?” Derek said sharply. “Did you tell the cops this?” Blue opened his eyes and saw Derek’s features stricken with concern. “Yeah,” he answered. “I think someone’s been stalking Cameron for a while, someone he and I went to

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school with. The same person who’s been killing the prostitutes, and they’ve tried to frame Cam with the murders.” “My God, Blue, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time?” “You sound like my father.” “I spoke with him while I was waiting for you. To say he’s less than thrilled would be an understatement.” Derek leaned over the coffee table and stubbed out his cigarette. He rose and advanced toward Blue. “Why did you go home with Cameron?” Blue looked back out the window. “I don’t know.” “I think you do.” Derek turned Blue around. He braced his hands to either side of Blue’s shoulders and stared down from where he stood at arm’s length. “What happened after Cameron went to investigate ?” “He didn’t find anyone outside, so he thought I was seeing things. We” -- Blue shrank back into the curtains but maintained eye contact -- “We kissed some more. He tried to talk me into a handjob but I told him no, we couldn’t do anything. So we went to sleep instead.” “In his bed?” “Yeah.” Derek paused. “In his arms.” Blue swallowed, his chin trembling. “Yeah.” “That’s a bigger slap in the face than if you’d fucked him, Blue.” Anger crept into Derek’s eyes and strained his voice. “But I wasn’t supposed to know any of this, was I.” “No, it’s not like that.” Blue looked down, trapped between the wall and Derek, unable to escape that penetrating glare. “I was going to tell you what happened after you came home from the airport. But then the police showed up at Cameron’s place, and you got back early.” “I guess the cops and I screwed up your plans.” Blue’s head snapped up, his indignation flared. “I’m telling the truth. You don’t have to be such an asshole.” Derek stood straight, his face twisting in a scowl at Blue’s affront. “You’re hardly in the position to be slinging insults.” “Yeah, what about you?” Blue said. He thumped Derek in the chest. “How many were there before me?” He blurted the question, one which had always plagued him, before he could stop himself. His own surprise equaled the shock registered in Derek’s face. Derek seized Blue by the wrists, his expression sobering. “This isn’t about me,” he growled. “It’s completely about you!” Blue twisted from Derek’s grasp and stormed several paces across the room. He spun back around. “How many were there before me? How many boys did you tie up and fuck in that bed over there before you brought me here that night?” Derek stared at Blue, then over at the bed. “I’ll buy a new one tomorrow.”

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“You didn’t answer my question.” Derek’s gaze sliced back toward him, his green eyes cool as emerald ice. “I don’t know.” “What?” Blue felt the blood drain from his face, and his knees went weak. Dazed, shaken, he walked back to the sofa and sank down. He’d known there’d been others, assumed the count at least exceeded the single digits, but he hadn’t expected it to be that bad. Derek leaned back against the wall and lit another cigarette. “What? You thought I’d have a nice rounded number to give you off the top of my head?” His steely gaze pierced Blue through a cloud of smoke. “You asked, I answered. I hardly see the relevance, though.” “The relevance is this.” Blue rose again, seething. “I’ve slept with one man -- you. And it’s because of you that I didn’t let Cameron fuck my brains out last night.” He headed for the door. He had to get out of the apartment. He couldn’t stand under that scrutinizing, hypocritical glare a moment longer. “But you wanted him to.” Blue halted, fingers hovering over the security keypad. He turned and fired a parting barb. “Yeah, I wanted him to. But I’m not a slut, Derek. Don’t judge me by your standards.” Blue rapidly punched in the code and started out the door. A hand gripped his arm and whipped him around. With his other hand, Derek slammed the door shut. He shoved Blue back into the kitchen. Blue’s ass slammed against the kitchen island. Before he could move, Derek crushed against him, palms firmly planted on the countertop. Blue cringed, but held steady, prepared for the fight of his life. Then he looked up into the other man’s eyes, and his heart melted. Gone was the cold fury, Derek’s hurt and betrayal burning through. “Don’t you fucking get it, Blue?” he hissed. “None of them mattered. You’re the only one who promised to stay, the only one I wanted to stay.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You’re far from the first man I’ve slept with, but you’re the first, the only, that I’ve ever loved.” “Derek,” Blue whispered. He reached out and touched his master’s cheek, wondering at the tear that wet his fingertips. “They were meaningless flings. I didn’t even bother to catch their names half the time. But what almost happened with Cameron last night is different. You and I both know that. You feel something for him, and each line you cross with him will only strengthen that.” Blue shook his head. “It’s not the same as what I feel for you.” Derek cupped Blue’s face in both hands and fixed his gaze. Even with this vulnerable side that Blue rarely witnessed, his master took command. “But you do have feelings for him.”

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“I care about him,” Blue confessed, “as more than a friend.” At the wince of pain in Derek’s eyes, Blue’s vision swam. He blinked, determined not to start bawling. “And how does Cameron feel?” Derek asked hoarsely. “He knew you were already involved in a relationship. How far did he expect you to take things behind my back?” “He wants to be with me,” Blue said quietly. “He told me if I didn’t talk to you, he would.” “He threatened you with that?” Derek’s tone hardened. “It wasn’t a threat,” Blue argued. “Yes, it was, Blue. Once a bully, always a bully. I don’t care how much therapy or anger management or whatever that asshole has been through.” “Well, he was right,” Blue countered. “I couldn’t keep putting it off.” “So why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Derek asked. “Why did you wait until he pushed your hand with an ultimatum?” “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I was scared.” “Scared of what?” Derek demanded softly. Blue’s breath hitched, and the tears crested. “I thought you’d get mad and throw me out.” And there it was, Blue realized -- another reason he’d been afraid to speak up about the situation with Cameron. “Blue,” Derek said, tender but firm, the pads of his thumbs grazing Blue’s tear-streaked cheeks. “I would never throw you out. But understand this -- if you choose to walk out that door and be with this…this person who once hurt you and made your life hell, I won’t stand in your way.” “That sounded like a threat,” Blue sniffed. Derek shook his head. “I don’t deal in threats, Blue. I’m giving you a choice.” “Yeah,” Blue muttered, “you or him, right?” “I waited too long to find you, Blue. I won’t share you.” Derek’s hands wove into Blue’s hair and held fast. “If you think that’s selfish of me, then you’re with the wrong man.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Blue said, his chest clutching with another sob. “I’ve told Cameron all along that I wouldn’t leave you.” “Good,” Derek whispered, and then his lips were on Blue’s. Hefting Blue onto the counter, Derek pressed between Blue’s thighs. In turn, Blue wrapped his arms and legs around his master and clung tight. He opened his mouth wide, welcoming the slide of Derek’s tongue upon his, heedless of the hint of cigarettes, tasting only the salt of tears not entirely his own.

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“I’m sorry, Sir,” Blue pled between kisses. “I’m sorry I fucked up. I get so confused when I’m around him, and there…there aren’t any rules when I’m away from you, and I guess I got carried away.” “I didn’t want to lay down rules,” Derek said. “I wanted to trust you, Blue. And you stopped. You slept in his bed, after he’d touched you, but you stopped. You’re a stronger man than I would have been at that age.” They kissed again, desperate, needy, Blue seeking absolution and Derek affirmation. Blue twined his limbs tighter. “Take me to bed,” he urged. “Sir.” Derek hesitated. “I was serious about buying a new bed.” “I love our bed,” Blue said. “I lost my virginity to you in that bed.” Derek slid his hands under Blue’s thighs and lifted him from the counter. He carried Blue across the loft and lowered him onto the mattress. Propped on his elbows, Blue arched his head back, baring his throat as Derek’s lips seared a path across his collarbone. His shirt opened, the sleeves slid down Blue’s shoulders. Derek’s breath warmed his right pec, followed by the tug of teeth against the silver nipple ring. “This,” Derek murmured against Blue’s flesh, “is mine.” “He didn’t touch me there,” Blue said. “He…he touched the other one, but I wouldn’t let him near the one you pierced. I swear.” “I believe you.” Derek’s lips curved against him in approval, and Blue heard his voice hitch with emotion again. He drifted to Blue’s other nipple. “But this is mine, too.” “Is that a rule?” Blue sighed, tiny shivers of pleasure coursing through him at the deft swirl of Derek’s tongue. “Yes, that’s a rule.” “Show me what else is yours, Sir,” Blue murmured, his tears going dry. Derek unzipped Blue’s pants and freed his hardening cock. “This” -- he gripped Blue’s shaft tight -- “is mine.” With his other hand Derek made a show of sucking two fingers into his mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes, the tears gone dry. Stroking Blue’s prick, he slid his wet fingertips beneath the base of the scrotum, giving a gentle squeeze to Blue’s testes along the way. One slick fingertip teased and stroked Blue’s entrance. “And this,” Derek declared, his voice gone from hoarse to husky, “this is mine, and no one else can have it.” Two fingers plunged into him. Blue gasped and his hips bucked. Head dipped back against the mattress, he sighed and moaned and rode the rising swell of pleasure as Derek worked his prostate. “And those sexy sounds you make,” Derek said, “those are mine, too.” When Blue threatened to come, Derek retrieved his fingers. He tugged Blue’s pants down. Blue wriggled his hips, helping, until he was left in only his shirt.

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Derek rose and took his time undressing. Blue lifted his head and watched, panting in shallow gasps, his swollen cock twitching and begging for reprieve. Naked, Derek climbed back between Blue’s thighs and hooked one knee in each hand. In turn, Blue spread his legs wider and lifted his ass. The breath rushed from Blue’s lungs, his muscles welcoming the invasion of Derek’s cock in one swift, easy slide. Derek leaned back on his haunches and pulled Blue’s hips forward. Knees splayed, he worked Blue’s pelvis back and forth, pumping upward as he shoved Blue repeatedly onto his cock. He grunted between thrusts. “All of you…belongs to me…all of you.” Legs bent back, feet in the air, Blue slid up and down the mattress, the sheets bunching around him. He grasped himself by each buttock and opened himself wider. Derek rammed into him all the harder, his hips slapping against the taut flesh of Blue’s ass with a resounding smack. Blue swiveled and ground back against his master, sharp gasps gone to guttural groans, his passion rising with each brutal thrust. The coiled knot of pleasure in his gut tightened almost unbearably, then sprang loose. “Derek, oh God, Derek!” Blue cried out. Hot pearls of cum splattered across his abdomen. As the palpitations of orgasm receded, he purposely squeezed his muscles with each rhythmic contraction, drawing out his own pleasure as he elicited a sharp intake of breath from Derek. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?” Derek gasped. Pulling Blue down to the hilt, he went rigid. Eyes closed, hair wild, his tear-streaked face suffused with the glow of ecstasy, he sat back and allowed Blue to grind and squeeze and milk him of his load, uttering low moans of pleasure with each warm burst that Blue drew from him. Catching his breath, Derek curled forward. With long, languorous sweeps of his tongue, he cleaned the cum from Blue’s stomach, then his chest. “This,” he spoke between licks, “is mine, too.” “Yes, Sir,” Blue sighed. Propping himself back on his elbows, he met Derek’s kiss and tasted his own seed. Yes, Blue knew that he indeed belonged to his master. But later that night, even as he basked in Derek’s embrace after making love a second time, another issue still plagued his thoughts. “I’ll tell Cameron I can’t see him outside of the dealing with the investigation,” Blue muttered up at the ceiling. “I need to tell him in person. I owe him that much.” “Absolutely not,” Derek murmured into Blue’s hair. “It isn’t safe to be around him right now.” “Detective Thomas is ordering twenty-four seven surveillance, though he thinks the killer will lie low and avoid Cameron for a few weeks.”

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Derek propped his head in one hand, maintaining his grip on Blue’s waist with the other. “We’re talking about our local police force, right?” he snorted. “Excuse me if I find your confidence in your new buddies less than comforting.” “I’ll arrange to meet Cameron somewhere in public.” No, not public, Blue decided, not for such an intimate discussion. Where could they speak alone besides Cameron’s apartment? “Or at work. He closes up the garage a few nights a week. I’m sure they have security cameras in the lobby, and there’ll be a detective staked out somewhere nearby.” “Fine,” Derek said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll take you. I’ll wait in the car down the street.” “No, I’ll take a cab,” Blue said, determined, his ire rising all over again. “I screwed this up on my own. I’ll fix it on my own.” Derek released Blue and flung his head back into the pillows. He speared his hands through his long hair. “Blue, I don’t want to argue with you about this.” “Then don’t,” Blue huffed. He slid out of bed and into his robe. For a change, he was the one who stepped out onto the balcony to cool off in the chill night air.

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Chapter Sixteen The space heater clicked on, the coils glowing red. Blue huddled in his coat as he sat perched on the primer-treated hood of a partially refurbished 1969 Mustang. He chuckled at the outdated calendar tacked to the wall in lieu of the bikini-clad, silicon-enhanced cheesecake traditionally displayed in auto shops. A hard-bodied male model posed in a conspicuously set-up garage. His torso bulged from a pair of mechanic’s coveralls unzipped to his navel and falling from one shoulder, his smooth, waxed pecs streaked strategically with grease.

Only at the Lube Your Tube… Blue turned his attention back to Cameron. At work under the hood of a pickup truck, his black coveralls thankfully zipped to the neck, the mechanic appeared to be fully in his element. Feathery layers peeked from under his knit hat and framed his face, his eyes shining with the confident gleam he’d always had back in school, coupled with the same intense frown of concentration that Derek bore when he was in the midst of programming. Blue couldn’t help but compare the two men. For all their differences, Derek and Cameron were a good deal alike, and Blue cared for them both, each in a different way, his love for Derek the stronger, but present for Cameron nonetheless. And he was hurting them both. Blue could only have one, and the decision had been made, to stay with the one with whom he’d invested a committed relationship, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Cameron just yet. “So what’s up with the Mustang?” Blue asked, casting a nod over his shoulder at the windshield behind him. “I thought you just did repairs here, not rebuilds.” “One of the boss’s pet projects,” Cameron explained between clicks of the torque wrench. “He’s been letting me work on it to gain some experience. Says that when he sells it, I can take a share of the profits.”

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“That’s cool,” Blue said. He asked the question that he’d tossed around himself the past several days. “Cam, who do you think took your jacket?” “I don’t know,” the mechanic grunted as he stretched his arm to reach a difficult spot. “As many assholes as we went to school with, I can’t see that any of them would be capable of something so violent. Mindy called me after she talked to Thomas. We ran some names by each other. She can’t figure who it might be, either.” “What’s Egghead up to these days anyway?” Blue asked, admittedly curious even if he hadn’t considered Mindy a friend. “She’s going to law school. Maybe she’ll work with your dad someday.” “That’s a scary thought.” Blue shook his head, unable to wrap his brain around the visual of the giggly, busty pompom girl sitting for the bar. “She’s really not that dumb,” Cameron said. “Back in school she was playing a role, just like we all were.” Straightening, he set the wrench aside and wiped his hands clean on a red shop rag. He walked over to the Mustang. Prying himself between Blue’s knees, he slapped his palms on either side of Blue’s thighs with a dull echo of steel. “But you didn’t come here to discuss Mindy or the investigation.” “No,” Blue admitted, knowing he should turn away, leaning in for the kiss instead. Just one last time, he thought, and then I’ll tell him. But as their lips touched and passion threatened to spark, Derek’s words played through Blue’s mind. All of you belongs to me… “Cameron,” he murmured, taking control and pulling away before the kiss could deepen, “I talked to Derek. He knows everything.” “Okay.” Cameron peered down through his wispy bangs in earnest. “And?” “I can’t see you anymore.” He watched the pain rip through Cameron’s eyes, and with it, the hurt turned back on him and lanced straight through his heart. “Is that what you want,” Cameron asked, jaw set, “or what he wants?” “It was my decision,” Blue said, looking away. “Maybe later on, after things settle down, we can work at being friends again.” Cameron tore away from him and stormed a few paces. He punched his fist against the wall, leaving a hole in the sheetrock beside the calendar. Blue flinched. “Damn it, Shane! I can’t change the past and all the fucked-up things I did to you. But the fact is I loved you before he did. You wanted me before he ever came along. If I’d just called you from the hospital that day, who’s to say we wouldn’t be together now?” “It doesn’t matter,” Blue countered, sliding from the car hood to his feet, refusing to accept Cameron’s confession of love because it made no difference. “We can’t base a

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relationship on what could have been. I live in the present, Cameron, and my place is with Derek.” “Blue,” Cameron pled fiercely, “we crossed paths again for a reason. It had to be fate, a chance to set things right between us.” Blue attempted to ignore Cameron’s assertion of “fate,” but as he started to leave, the anger which had simmered toward the other man since the police interview reached boiling point. He whirled back around, fists balled at his side. “A chance to set things right ? Everything was going fine for me until you barged back into my life! And now you expect me to drop everything for you, like it could all be perfect now because you’re supposedly reformed, because you’ve had therapy ? Well, you know what? I don’t have a therapist, Cameron. I have Derek. He’s the one who’s listened to my stories about the shit you and your friends put me through. He’s the one who’s held me when I’ve woken up crying in the middle of the night because I still have nightmares about it.” Through a shimmering curtain of tears, Blue made his way through the garage. He exited past a row of vending machines and found the lobby. Cameron stormed after him and seized him by the shoulders. Blue whipped around, teeth bared, ready to spew more venom. He stopped short at the look of sorrow reflected in Cameron’s face. “Shane, when I woke up next to you the other day, it was the first morning that I didn’t wake up hating myself for what I’ve done to you. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll just let me.” “Sounds like this is about your recovery, not mine,” Blue spat with resentment. “Because of you, I couldn’t take a shower. For years.” Cameron winced. He cupped Blue’s face with his rough hands. “I’m sorry, Shane,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know how many times I can say so and make you believe I mean it, but I’m really, truly sorry. I know this isn’t about me; it’s about us, which is why we need to work this out together. Don’t walk away from me, not in anger. You’re throwing away everything we’ve built up these past few months.” “I told you we can be friends,” Blue sniffed, softening at Cameron’s touch, reeling in his turmoil. “You said in your letter that you wanted friendship, and that’s what I can give you. I just need time to cool down. Things have gotten pretty heavy between us, and I need you to back off because it can’t go any further.” “Friendship isn’t enough, Shane, and you know it. Maybe you can ‘cool down,’ but I can’t.” Cameron’s tone went hard and his eyes turned cold. “If you walk out of here, consider it over between us.” “Those are your terms, huh? All or nothing?” “Yeah, all or nothing.”

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Blue jerked away from Cameron’s grasp. “I thought you really had changed, but Derek’s right -- you’re still a bully.” He started for the door when movement flashed from the corner of his eye. A figure emerging from behind the cash register counter… He turned at the sound of the loud thwack, caught sight of a long, heavy pipe slamming into the back of Cameron’s head. Cameron staggered, blinked, his eyes rolling up before he tottered back onto the floor. Blue briefly took in the perpetrator dressed in jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, registering some glimpse of familiarity, and then he was going for the door. Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he hit speed dial for Derek. Something hard thudded across the middle of his back. The air rushed from his lungs, and fire shot up and down his spine, making him dizzy, paralyzing his legs. He fell against the door, rattling the closed blinds that concealed the plated glass. The cell phone flew from his hand and hit the floor, the impact scattering the components across the linoleum. He tried to stand, fumbling for the dead bolt, jerking at the blinds, hoping whoever was assigned to stake out the shop saw his signal of distress. Arms gripped around his waist and dragged him back, pulling him around Cameron’s prone unconscious form. Feeling returned to his limbs, enough for him to move. Blue reared back with his elbow, remembering to force his weight against his captor rather than pull away. Throwing the other man off balance, they careened together into a display, scattering a pyramid of plastic oil bottles. Scrambling to escape, Blue felt a hand grip his ankle. His chest slammed against the floor, rendering him breathless again. Hands groped up his legs, sliding his body down the slick linoleum tiles. Pivoting his upper torso, Blue flailed and clawed at the man who now straddled him, going for the eyes, succeeding only in pulling the stranger’s hood back. The other man gripped Blue by the hair and slammed his head back. As the base of Blue’s skull made contact against the hard floor, he caught a glimpse of the face hovering above him. “Zackary Smith,” he gasped in stunned recognition. Second string quarterback and Cameron’s right-hand man, both on and off the field… “Hey, faggot, it’s been a while.” Zack leered with a wide, humorless grin, then cracked Blue’s head against the floor a second time. A dim ring reverberated through Blue’s ears, followed by a blinding pain behind his eyes.

Shit, not again, Blue thought, and all around him went black.

***** “Wake up, faggot.” Blue moaned. He heard a rattle of chains, felt metal cut into his flesh. He craned his stiffened neck, harnessing the pain that jolted through him to spur his body to full alert, and

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focused his eyes. Looking up, he comprehended that Zack had suspended him by the wrists to the hook of a chain hoist.

Why me, was Blue’s immediate thought, why does this shit always happen to me… “I wanted to pound your ass in the shower that day,” a voice hissed from behind where a body pressed against him. One unwelcomed hand kneaded his buttocks. “I ditched Cam and came back for you, but Coach had already found you.” As Zack stepped around him, Blue’s eyes went wide at the glint of a knife blade. “You killed those boys,” Blue murmured, his throat going dry. “You tried to set up Cameron.” Zack beamed, a sickeningly proud smile spreading from ear to ear. “Most of them. Seems I have a copycat.” “Why?” Blue asked. “What did their lives have to do with Cameron?” Zack’s smile faded, and now his eyes swam with tears. “I never understood why he didn’t want me.” As fast as his mood had shifted to one of sorrow, Zack’s eyes went dry and narrowed in spite. “Then I figured it out. It was you. He wanted you.”

He’s mad, Blue thought. Legally certifiable. As he regained clarity, he heard a muffled groan. He peered over Zack’s shoulder and saw Cameron, head down, hat off, and still comatose, propped to sitting with legs splayed upon the concrete floor. A network of bungee straps restrained his upper arms and torso to an engine mounted on a wooden frame. “Oh, don’t worry about the Camster,” Zack chuckled. “He’ll come ’round soon enough. And when he does, he’s going to watch me fuck you, and hurt you, and make you bleed.” The tip of the knife blade ghosted down Blue’s cheek. Swallowing, Blue closed his eyes. His captor continued tormenting him, the knife now tracing Blue’s collarbone where the top few buttons of his shirt lay open. “He’s going to hear you cry and scream and beg me to kill you because you can’t take the pain anymore.” With a rip of fabric, Blue’s shirt buttons popped in all directions, the point of the blade grazing down Blue’s exposed sternum. His heart beating frantically, Blue took shallow breaths and tried not to move. The knife dented into his belly. Zack’s voice slithered around him, the words alone leaving him with a sense of being violated. “I didn’t really get to take my time with the others, but they were just practice. I was saving you for last, and I intend to spend all night with you.” He speared the tip of the blade through Blue’s navel ring and gave a sharp, painful tug. “I’ll rip this one out first, then the one in each nipple. Or do you like that sort of thing, Shane, hmm? You like it to hurt?” “You bastard,” Blue hissed, eyes flying open. “You’re going to fry for everything you’ve done.” Zack exuded a low, sinister chuckle. “No I won’t. I’ve written up Cam’s suicide note, misspellings and all, confessing to everything. They’ll think you covered for him the other

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night because you loved him, and that he killed you so your boyfriend couldn’t have you. All or nothing,” Zack mimicked in mock singsong, “just like Cam said, right before I disconnected the surveillance equipment.” Blue thought he detected movement from behind Zack, hoped it was the police moving in. He trained his eyes on Zack and kept his features impassive. “Not bad for a dumb jock,” he said wryly. Zack laughed, seemingly flattered. “Not all of us were big lumbering oafs like the Camster back there. I took care of your friends outside, by the way. One posing as a homeless bum, the other munching on doughnuts in his car. I made them for narcs right off the bat.” “Fuck,” Blue blurted. Only two officers ? He’d heard Thomas bitching over the phone about budget cuts, department politics, and being woefully undermanned, but surely someone else had to be out there for such a major sting, Oakwood beat or not. With nauseating realization, Blue knew that Derek had been right -- it had been stupid to come to the garage alone. No one had moved behind Zack, because no one would be coming to help. “Yeah, fuck is right,” Zack sneered, pressing the flat end of the blade against Blue’s crotch. Blue felt his balls shrivel at the threat. “The DA’s going to have his work cut out for him covering this scandal up. I can see the headlines now: ‘Daddy’s Little Blue-Haired Queer, Dead in Violent Love Triangle.’ What do you think, Shane, hmm?” A strong baritone boomed through the garage. “I think you’re gonna be sorry, faggot.” The knife dropped, clattering against the concrete. Zack jerked backward, and his eyes bulged, the bungee that had been strapped around Cameron’s torso now cutting into the killer’s throat. Cameron slung his former ally around and slammed him into the engine block. Zack clutched his ribs, winded, then straightened and pitched toward Cameron, his fist crushing into the mechanic’s nose. They grappled, grimacing at one another, both men equal in strength. Zack bested Cameron and twisted him into a headlock. Blue watched in horror as Cameron’s face contorted and purpled from lack of air. “Just like old times,” Zack said through gritted teeth, grinning like the maniacal madman that he was. “Used to get so turned on…wrestling with you…” Fumbling, Cameron managed to take purchase of Zack’s legs at the knee. He lifted and tossed the killer over his back. Zack flew across the garage. He collided with a stack of tires, the force of his weight sending them toppling and rolling. With a roar of rage, Cameron charged the other man. In the midst of the ruckus, the tinkle of breaking glass sounded from the lobby, and then to Blue’s amazement, Derek burst into the garage, hair and coattails streaming behind him. He stopped and took in the sight of the sparring duo, then snapped his head toward Blue. Relief washed over his features as his gaze trailed the hoist pulley system to the winch crank.

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“What? How?” Blue tried to ask. “My phone rang once. It was you. I knew something was wrong.” “Call 911!” “After I get you out of here.” Derek turned the crank. Blue felt himself being lowered and collapsed into a kneeling position. “Stop him!” Cameron had Zack pinned against a support beam by his throat with one hand now, punching his face with the other, a sickening sound of bone and flesh giving way to Cameron’s unabated temper. “Why?” Derek demanded. He stood behind Blue, unwinding the chains. “I ought to help him!” His binds free, Blue lurched to his feet. Swaying from his mild concussion, he stumbled toward Cameron. “Cam! Stop! You’ll kill him!” With a snarl, Cameron turned and knocked Blue in the face. The familiar bite of copper flooded Blue’s mouth. He reeled back a few paces and landed squarely against Derek, who caught and steadied him before he could hit the ground. In a flash, he found himself behind Derek, his lover gone into defense mode. He opened his mouth to yell, feeling his lip split open, tasting more blood where it poured from his nose, already knowing what would come next. The scene moved in slow motion as Derek grasped Cameron by the scruff of the neck and jerked him around. Zack, his face now an unidentifiable mass of black, blue, and crimson, slid down the support beam in a crumpled heap. Derek swung, his balled fist clocking Cameron directly under the jaw. Cameron fell back against the rear bumper of the pickup truck. Derek pivoted with a swirl of his coat. One foot in front of the other, he reared his fists. Cameron pulled himself to standing. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood that dripped from his mouth. He flexed, ready to spring, while Derek stayed coolly braced, ready to take the mechanic on. Finding his legs and his voice, Blue rushed between them, the two men that he loved, the energy around them charged with violence and thick with testosterone. “Stop!” he cried, planting himself in front of Derek, fixing Cameron’s adrenaline-glazed glare. “Blue,” Derek warned, “get out of my way.” “No! Both of you! Stop!” Cameron’s stupor lifted like a gruesome mask being peeled away. “Shane?” he muttered, his voice hollow. “Your face… I hurt you…”

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He looked down at his hands. He opened his fists, the knuckles bruised and bloodied and swollen, and turned his palms up. He began trembling. “I didn’t think I could still be like this,” he murmured in dull shock. He dropped to his knees and looked up at Blue in supplication. His amber eyes brimmed with tears. “Shane, I don’t want to be this. I’m not like him. I’m not my father.” Without a moment’s hesitation Blue rushed to the other man, torn and bleeding in more ways than one. He wrapped his arms around Cameron’s broad shoulders and held him close. Clutching tight, Cameron broke down and wept against Blue’s chest, his body quaking with hoarse, ragged sobs. “It’s okay, Cam,” Blue soothed with a whisper, nuzzling his bloody, tear-streaked face into the other man’s hair. “I know you’re not like him.” He turned his head toward Derek. “Call 911. Please.” Derek nodded mutely and pulled out his phone. He watched them a moment longer, Blue now rocking Cameron with a gentle swaying motion, softly chanting, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” “You told me you cared for him,” Derek said quietly. “You didn’t say you’d fallen in love with him.” He pressed the phone to his ear and turned away.

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Chapter Seventeen Jodi trembled against him. “You ready, Blue-kun?” “I guess,” Blue murmured in her ear. “Are you?” She tilted her face to his, amethyst eyes pleading in anticipation. “You first.” Blue breathed in the scent of her bubble gum lip gloss and licked his lips nervously. “No, you.” Derek spun around in his chair at the computer hutch. Legs stretched, hands locked behind his neck, he took charge and intervened in a low, encouraging rumble. “Why don’t you do it together?” “Oh, I know,” said Jodi, “let’s open each other’s!” Cuddled on the sofa, Blue and Jodi traded envelopes and then tore into them. Jodi let out a squeal. “Baka. You practically aced it!” “You too!” said Blue. A heavy sigh of relief whooshed from his lungs as Jodi squeezed him in a heartfelt embrace. “I need to call Cam-san and see if he got his results,” Jodi announced, releasing her hold on Blue. “He’s convinced he failed again.” As Jodi stepped out on the balcony, Derek watched and gauged Blue’s reaction to mention of the mechanic’s name. He came up behind the sofa. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around Blue’s shoulders. “Congratulations.” “Thanks, Sir.” Angling his head back, Blue beamed up at Derek and for a moment, it was as if nothing had gone wrong between them in the past few months. But Derek had seen the wistful look that crossed Blue’s features at the mention of Cameron, and he knew that, spoken or not, the other man’s name would linger between them for some time to come.

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He hefted Blue under the arms, prompting the younger man to turn around and sit up on his knees. Their brows nudged together, Derek slid one hand down Blue’s spine to the firm, pert rump that was his and his alone. He offered a gentle but possessive squeeze. “The three of us should go out and celebrate.” “That would be nice” -- Blue smiled -- “except Jodi’s on her way to the restaurant to get April. They’re meeting some guys they know from the Net at a club. Straight ones, even.” The men shared a brief chuckle before Derek sobered. “They need to be careful.” “I know,” Blue concurred, mirroring Derek’s concern. “I’ve already given Jodi-chan the ‘stranger danger’ lecture.” Jodi burst back into the loft. She paused and gawked, hands on her hips in mock consternation. “I swear, I can’t leave you boys alone for two seconds, though I’m not complaining.” She went to the door and slipped her striped stocking feet into platform Mary Janes. “Cam-san passed by two points,” she casually informed Blue. “He said that was good enough for him!” “That’s good.” Blue smiled back up at Derek, but the smile proved terse. “So it’s just the two of us. Where we going?” “I thought I’d let you choose.” “Oh? Okay.” The boy’s gray eyes brightened. “There’s that Mongolian grill we haven’t tried yet.” “Sounds good. We’ll check it out.” God, if he could just keep Blue happy like that all the time… “I gotta bail,” Jodi said, slipping her quilted, faux fur-lined coat from the rack. “I’m helping April with the dishes so her grandmother will let her leave early.” “I’ll walk you to your car,” said Derek. He patted Blue on the butt, then went to help Jodi into her coat. “Such a gentleman, Derek-sama,” she cooed. “You have a straight brother?” Derek shook his head and laughed. “Not that I know of.” As Derek slipped on his leather trench, Blue joined them to give Jodi a good-bye kiss. “Tell April what I told you,” he cautioned. “Buy your own drinks, and keep them covered with your hand.” “I know,” Jodi said, rolling her eyes. “And don’t split up, and call you at the first sign of trouble.” “I’ll give you my cell number, too,” Derek added. He looked down at Blue. “Pick out something nice for us to wear.” “Yes, Sir,” Blue said, and rose on tiptoe. They kissed, a short but sweet kiss, while Blue clutched lightly at the lapels of his trench -- another moment where they seemed back to

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normal. Derek clung to each precious one of those moments with the hope that in time, it would always be that way and he could just take it for granted. Maybe that was the thing, though. Maybe he should never take his and Blue’s happiness for granted. He followed Jodi to the elevator and let her step in first. On the ride down, she passed him her cell phone so he could enter his number into her contact list. “Blue’s right,” he said. “You and April watch your asses tonight. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt anyone.” As he handed her phone back, Derek addressed a different nagging concern, suspecting he could count on Jodi to be straightforward and blunt. “I never told Blue he couldn’t stay friends with Cameron.” “You didn’t tell him he could, either,” she said curtly. “Though it’s not because of you.”

Fair enough. He tugged on his gloves. “What’s happening on Cameron’s end?” “He says he can’t just be friends. It hurts too much. I told him he’s a selfish prick for shutting Blue out like that just because he didn’t get his way.” She looked at Derek pointblank. “I guess that’s the type Blue attracts.” Derek stood straighter, opened his mouth, clamped it, opened it again. He hadn’t expected her to be that blunt. “Is Cameron at work right now?” he finally asked. Jodi studied her nails, currently painted slate gray with tiny pink polka dots. “Yeah, but…you didn’t hear this from me.” “Hear what?” Derek asked, playing along. “He’s leaving in two weeks, moving a few hours away to some little hick town called Bethel Ridge to run the new OP Alley there.” The doors slid apart, and Jodi stepped out. “Blue doesn’t know yet. I told Cameron he should tell Blue himself.” Derek wedged his hand between the doors before they shut. “You didn’t see this,” he said, breezing past Jodi, giving her a quick peck on the cheek along the way. “See what?” She blushed, feigning an innocent smile. Once he wheeled the Porsche out of the garage, Derek speed dialed Blue. “Change in plans,” he announced. “I’m running out for about an hour. Be ready when I get back.” “Okay,” Blue said, his tone edged with suspicion. “Derek?” Not ‘Sir’, but Derek, which meant Blue had something serious on his mind. “Yes, Blue?” “I love you.” Pause. “I really do.” “I know, Blue,” Derek said softly. “I know. I love you, too.” Which was why he was driving across town to Oakwood for an oil change.

*****

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Cameron rolled out from under the car. Sitting up, he stared at Derek. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that as long as you call the shots, it’s okay.” Derek flicked his lighter shut as he leaned against the support beam. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Tight-lipped, Cameron rose from the creeper. He pumped the carjack down, then retrieved a socket wrench from the tool cart. He went to work under the propped hood of the Mustang. “You can’t honestly expect me to be comfortable with some ‘open arrangement’ any more than you are.” “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. It’s what Blue wants. I thought I’d given him a choice, but the truth is, I didn’t. It was more of an” -- Derek paused, taking a drag from his cigarette -- “ultimatum.” Hands braced on the car, his biceps flexed, Cameron addressed Derek as he studied the engine. “Yeah, I guess I did the same thing.” Tearing his eyes from the well-built mechanic -- the man that had threatened to steal Blue away -- Derek’s eyes followed the contours of the car. Intrigued, he stood straight and slowly circled the Mustang. Even in its state of disrepair, the Shelby Cobra exuded a sleek aura of muscle, power, and speed. “This beauty spoken for?” he asked. “Not yet,” Cameron grunted. “Boss wants her in prime condition before she goes up on the auction block.” It struck Derek as ironic that, as gay men, they still attributed feminine qualities to the car. He supposed some habits were just ingrained in the male psyche. “I received my first impromptu driving lesson in one of these,” he said. “Some friends and I went joyriding in Queens one night. Didn’t grind the gears once.” “No shit?” Cameron said. “Sounds like some wild times.” “It gets wilder. Turned out we’d jacked some mobster’s car, which we discovered when a carload of his goons came after us. My friends bailed and left me to fend for myself. The last guy left standing offered me a job in what he termed their ‘collections department’.” “I’ll say from experience that you have a good upper hand.” Cameron worked and rubbed his jaw in emphasis, leaving a streak of grease across his chin. “Sounds like you and I both used to be a lot alike.” “I got into my share of fights when I was younger,” Derek agreed, bristling at the comparison even as he acknowledged its truth. “I didn’t go looking for shit, though. It was always in self-defense.” Met with silence, his point of contrast made, Derek took off his right glove and ran his bare hand across one smooth bumper, his touch lingering where a dent had been filled with putty and then sanded to a seamless finish. “You’ve done the body work on this?” he asked, impressed, slipping his glove back on.

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“Yeah,” Cameron grunted with a twist of the wrench. “If you want, you can help me tune the carburetor. Key’s in the ignition.” Derek opened the driver’s side door, the metal hinges squeaking from disuse. He slid behind the wheel, the worn upholstery crackling under his thighs. The scent of old leather and the sight of the vintage dashboard invoked an instant sense of nostalgia. He turned the key. The engine coughed and sputtered with a belch of exhaust, then roared to life. Letting the Mustang idle, Derek listened as Cameron calibrated the mixture between the fuel and air intake. Gradually, the engine’s rattle smoothed out to a low purr. “She at twelve hundred?” Cameron shouted over the engine. Derek checked the RPM gauge. Cameron was right on the mark. “Yeah,” he shouted back. Good ear, he thought. Cameron stood straight and shut the hood. “Rev ’er up.” Derek applied his foot to the accelerator. Wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel, he thrilled to the vibrations that sent a surge of raw power coursing through his body. He thought back to the time he’d driven the mobster’s Mustang. Though not as refined of a ride as the one the teenager would later own, it had proved exciting -- and just a little arousing -- to harness the haul-ass torque of the sleek classic. Cameron stood with head cocked, one palm spread on the hood. A rapt look of concentration fixed his features. He waved for Derek to hold it at exactly 3,500 RPM, then signaled for him to give the car more juice, stopping Derek again at the 5,000 mark. Derek was left awed and mildly jealous at Cameron’s ability to gauge the engine’s performance by ear and touch alone. Cameron made a slicing motion across his throat. Reluctantly, Derek eased off the gas and shut off the ignition. Cameron wiped his hands on a red shop rag, then came around to the driver’s side door. Leaning down, he braced his arms on the open window frame. He looked away from Derek as he spoke. “I’ll come by tonight. I need to go home and grab a shower first.” Derek reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the key card to the loft. Looking through the windshield, he passed the card to Cameron. “I’m taking Blue out for dinner,” Derek said. “You can shower at my place and wait for us.” He recited the pass code. “You need to write that down?” “No, I’m good with remembering numbers,” Cameron said stiffly, and then repeated the code. “He’s going to tell us both to go to hell.” “Probably.” Derek smiled, a thin but knowing smile. He met Cameron’s amber-eyed gaze and, for the first time, found he didn’t want to pummel the other man’s face in. Though his jealousy still flared, and Cameron was hardly his type, he saw why Blue thought the mechanic attractive. “I suspect he’ll get over it.”

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Chapter Eighteen “So let me get this straight,” Blue fumed, still in shock from a topless, freshly-showered Cameron greeting him at the door. “You each tell me that I have to choose because I can’t have you both. Now you meet together behind my back and decide that you’re, what, going to share me? Like I’m some piece of time-share property to be split between you? You can both go to hell!” Blue bolted for the bathroom. Derek rose and blocked his path. Blue turned and started for the balcony, only to find himself facing Cameron, the brunet’s hair still wet, a towel wrapped behind his neck and draping his broad, sculpted shoulders. Fine, he’d just leave the apartment altogether. Before Blue could take another step, Derek grabbed him from behind while Cameron began advancing toward him. “Blue,” Derek murmured in his ear. “Tell me what you honestly want, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.” “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have,” Blue murmured. “You hurt me every day with that sad look in your eyes.” Now Cameron was on him, smelling of Derek’s shampoo and soap, sending Blue’s senses spiraling, plunging him into deeper distress. Rough mechanic’s hands cupped Blue’s face. “Shane, just say it. Derek and I have both been selfish --” “Speak for yourself,” Derek growled. “I’ve been selfish,” Cameron corrected. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” “Yes,” Derek murmured impatiently. “Cameron and I have both been selfish. Now. Tell us. What. You Want.”

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Blue’s knees threatened to give, pressed between the two of them like that, Derek in a suit, Cameron in only jeans, each of them strong and hard and firm. “I want you both,” he whispered. “Oh, God, I want you both.” He heard Derek’s breath catch, knew his confession had hurt, and yet his master held him firm as Cameron’s lips trailed down his throat. “Then I grant Cameron permission,” Derek said, his voice strained, his grip tightening, “to have what’s mine, but under one condition. He can’t fuck you.” “I know,” Cameron replied for them both, and he heard the pain laced through Cameron’s voice, too, even as it went husky, even as the buttons on Blue’s shirt came open. Seeking lips grazed toward Blue’s right nipple. “No, not that one,” Blue murmured. “Never that one. That’s my rule.” Cameron peered up at him and cocked an eyebrow, but quickly turned his attention to the left nipple. Blue hissed as Cameron’s tongue latched on, its wet and eager slide pebbling the flesh around the metal hoop. Derek’s lips curved against Blue’s neck, his voice moved with emotion. “Good boy.” Transferring his hold on Blue, Derek managed to slide out of his jacket an arm at a time as he gripped Blue’s wrists in one hand and slid the other around to unbuckle Blue’s belt. “Get him on the bed,” he instructed Cameron, his tone returning to that of its usual brusque command. “Perverts,” Blue protested weakly, his shirt tossed one way, his pants the other as both men dragged him to the bed. “I didn’t mean at the same time…” Naked and kneeling on the mattress, Blue’s face burned hot, his body hotter, as both men worked him. Cameron attended to his front side, lips and tongue roaming freely and pleasuring him, tormenting him, save for his right nipple, one callused palm fisting and pumping his cock as the other roughly fondled his balls. His touch proved less refined than Derek’s, somehow more brute and primitive and to the point, but no less arousing, or demanding, than that of Blue’s practiced master. Meanwhile Derek remained at his back, restraining Blue with one hand, preparing him with the other, his spit-slicked fingers flexing in and out of Blue’s ass. Letting himself go, accepting the fantasy made reality, Blue writhed and moaned and undulated shamelessly between them. Cameron eased back, pulling Blue down on all fours. He opened his jeans, his cock jutting grandly forth. Kneeling upright, he slid into Blue’s waiting mouth. Blue rounded his lips, hollowed his cheeks, and then he showed Cameron his trick, grating the stud in his tongue up the underside of the shaft, then teasing the circumference of the glans before plowing back down. Squelching his gag reflex, he swallowed Cameron’s entire length for a few sweet, fleeting seconds. Cameron matched him with a short, guttural groan. “Don’t,” he hissed, “you’re gonna make me come too fast.”

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Smirking up at Cameron, Blue engulfed his cock to the root once more. At Cameron’s telltale grunt of climax, Derek jerked Blue’s head back, pulling him upright. “Brat,” he chuckled in Blue’s ear as together, they took in the beautiful sight of Cameron pumping his load into his hand. Catching his breath, Cameron slanted his eyes at Derek for denying him release in Blue’s mouth. Blue felt his master’s lips curl into a smirk, and then his entrance was stretched with the tip of Derek’s cock. Reaching around, Derek gripped Blue by the base of his prick. “Suck him off,” he instructed. Cameron’s eyes went wide, then narrowed once more. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” Derek grunted, hilting. His thighs came flush to Blue’s ass with a loud smack of flesh upon flesh, the assault forcing the air from Blue’s lungs. “I told you, this is for him.” Obeying, Cameron leaned down on one hand, his cum-slicked cock in the other, and took Blue into his mouth. Still trying to catch his breath, Blue gasped, his voice rising in pitch. “Oh, God, both of you…both of you…” As Blue rode and crested the waves of doubled bliss, he pistoned forward, deep into Cameron’s mouth, then dropped back roughly, his muscles clenching Derek’s cock. He increased the pace, forcing both men to keep up, Cameron sucking harder, Derek thrusting faster, Blue dictating the terms of his own pleasure even as both men trapped him mercilessly between them. Erupting with pure, blinding ecstasy, he threw his head back against Derek and cried out. Cameron emitted a muffled but triumphant growl, sucking and gulping in time with the rhythmic contractions of Blue’s orgasm. “God, you’re so tight,” Derek groaned, then bit down on Blue’s shoulder as he pumped his pet full. Their passion spent, Derek dropped back into the pillows and brought Blue with him. “I love you,” he whispered in Blue’s ear, and then he angled Blue’s face toward his. Cameron slid up Blue’s front. He jerked Blue’s head back around and stole Derek’s kiss, his mouth tasting of Blue’s cum. At Derek’s indignant huff, Blue broke the kiss and turned his lips back to Derek’s. His master kissed him all the harder, plunging his tongue deep, determined to outdo Cameron. Entangled and naked between the half-dressed men, basking in the knowledge that they both desired him and had brought him to his most intense climax to date, Blue tore his mouth from Derek’s and turned back to Cameron, who promptly nipped his lower lip. Tasting blood, Blue cried out. Derek swooped in and sucked at the broken flesh. “Bakas,” Blue mumbled. “You’re going to tear me apart. Why don’t you just kiss each other?” “Don’t push your luck,” Derek growled.

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“Yeah,” Cameron said, nuzzling Blue’s throat, caressing the thigh that Blue had crossed over him. “Derek?” “Yeah.” Cameron’s breath puffed against Blue’s pulse point. “I know you agreed to this for Shane’s sake, but…thank you.” “Don’t mention it,” Derek murmured, his lips tickling Blue’s scalp. “I’d do anything for Blue. Maybe now he understands that.”

***** Derek belted Blue into his white velour robe, then stepped out onto the balcony, leaving Blue alone with Cameron to say good-bye. They stood at the door, Cameron’s hands cupped at Blue’s waist. In turn, Blue planted his palms between the opening of Cameron’s leather jacket, wondering all over again at the way the black T-shirt stretched taut across the other man’s firm pecs. “I still don’t understand why Zack confessed to all of the murders,” Blue said with a puzzled shake of his head. “He told me he had a copycat.” “Shane, the killings have stopped. And, you know, you did receive a mild concussion,” Cameron said, his tone one of placation. “And Zack is obviously not what you’d call stable.” “You sound like my father and Derek,” Blue said with a sulk. “Just let it go, Shane. You, of all people, should know that you don’t interfere with the powers that be in this town. The only question now is whether the jury finds Zack insane or in his right mind.” “I know, but something doesn’t set well with me on this, and for once my father seems to have been left out of the loop.” Blue sighed, shuddering at the thought that in six months, he’d have to face the cold-blooded murderer for a second time in a court of law. “Will you be back any before the summer?” “I don’t know,” Cameron answered. “I have to make sure my crew is fully trained before I take time off for the trial. I’m going to be working seven days a week the first few months. The perks of being on salary instead of getting paid by the hour.” “I’m proud of you for getting the management position,” Blue complimented with a bittersweet smile. “I just wish you weren’t going so far away.” “It’s only a few hours’ drive,” Cameron said. “You know, you’re welcome to visit if Derek will let you. I’m renting this little house on the edge of town that I’ll have all to myself.” He grinned down at Blue, chin dimpling, and murmured in a suggestive tone. “You can make all the noise you want.” Blue looked down at his hands pressed to Cameron’s chest and felt his cheeks blaze red. “I suppose I can get a bit…vocal.” Sobering, he peered back up at Cameron in earnest. “Cam, there’s something I need to say.”

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“Yeah?” Cameron said expectantly. Blue sensed what Cameron hoped to hear, but he couldn’t tell his friend that he loved him -- by his own private rule, Blue instinctively knew that declaration was reserved for Derek, and Derek alone. But there was something else he needed to tell Cameron, a sentiment he’d shown with actions but hadn’t been able to express in words until today. For if only “I love you” could be said to Derek, only this could be said to Cameron. Rising on tiptoe, he took Cameron’s face between his hands. As he started to speak, his voice caught in his throat. Unashamed, he allowed the tears to flow freely, and with them came the words needed to end the pain he and Cameron had suffered together since the day they’d met on the playground, so long ago, as two scarred children caught in a vicious cycle that others before them had set into motion. “I forgive you,” Blue whispered. “I forgive you, Cameron, for everything.” “Oh, God, Shane.” Cameron’s eyes watered, and his voice cracked. Leaning down, he wrapped Blue in a tight embrace, then stood straight, lifting Blue off his feet. “Thank you,” he whispered in Blue’s ear. “Thank you.”

***** Still sniffling, Blue stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door with a soft click. He crossed his hands behind his back and leaned against the panes of glass. “He’s gone.” “He’ll be back.” Derek turned. He crossed his arms, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, and propped back against the balustrade. As he spoke, his breath fogged the air. “You’ll want to see him. Maybe --” He paused, considering the cigarette before tucking it back in his pocket. “Maybe spend some time alone with him.” “Yeah. I’d like that.” Blue noticed it had started snowing. He took in the sight of Derek, tall and handsome in his long black coat. Snowflakes caught in his tousled auburn hair, the wild silken strands framing chiseled features still mantled from sex. Blue’s heart ached as he realized, all over again, how beautiful his master was and, with it, came the knowledge that his master truly did love him and would make any sacrifice on his behalf. At that moment, it fully hit Blue how much he’d risked losing. He knew, now, that he’d made the right choice in staying with Derek, for while a part of his heart would remain with Cameron, his life belonged with this dazzling vision of a man standing across the balcony from him. A lump formed in his throat and his vision blurred all over again. “Sir,” he tried to say. Derek gestured with a tilt of the head. “Come here.” Blue’s bare feet closed the distance of the cold patio in a few swift steps. He slammed into Derek, and in turn Derek clutched him tight.

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The tears fell anew and with them, Blue’s words stringed in one breathless rush. “I won’t see him again if you really don’t want me to.” “No, Blue, you can see him. Just remember my conditions, and know who you come home to. Okay?” “Okay,” Blue sniffed. “Hey, are you crying again?” “No…a snowflake got in my eye.” “Oh, of course.” Blue laughed through his tears. Flicking his tongue, he caught the single stray drop that trickled down Derek’s cheek. “Hmm, that’s a pretty salty snowflake.” “Well, you know, air pollution…” “No, that would taste like dirt.” “Brat,” Derek grumbled. “Get back inside. I’m freezing my balls off out here.” “Yes, Sir.” They kissed as they meandered back indoors, Blue leading the way even as Derek propelled him. As they tumbled onto the bed -- their bed -- Blue knew Derek was the one master who truly held the strings to his heart and, together, their love could overcome any obstacles that fate threw their way.

Katrina Strauss Katrina Strauss discovered her love of romance with sneak peeks at her grandmother's dog-eared, spine-worn paperbacks. Inspired to pen her own twist on the timeless genre of romance, Katrina explores the darker side of love -- or, what one reader has dubbed “Romance for the Black Coffee Crowd.” Katrina resides with her husband and three children in the beautiful Sonoran Desert near Phoenix, Arizona. When she's not immersed in writing, Katrina enjoys sewing, music, anime, and entirely too much yaoi. To find out more about Katrina and her work, please visit her author site at http://www.katrinastrauss.com/