Still the One

STILL THE O E by SHAWN LANE Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

Still The One An Amber Quill Press Book This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com http://www.AmberHeat.com http://www.AmberAllure.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Lane ISBN 978-1-60272-674-1 Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber Layout and Formatting Provided by: Elemental Alchemy Published in the United States of America

Also by Shawn Lane At Long Last The Best Gift Car Wash It's Only Make-Believe Jake's Regret A Knight For All Lawyers In Love Most Likely To Succeed Only In His Dreams The Other Side Pulling Away Sorcerer's Lover Sorcerer's Lover II The Squire Sweet Reunion Ticket To Ride Until The End Of Time

Dedication To those who wanted more from Dusty and Malcolm

Chapter 1

Dustin Jones walked through the doors of Master Geoffrey's Steak & Seafood Restaurant. He looked at his nautical watch, a gift from his boyfriend, Malcolm Rowland. Half past eleven already. Damn, late. He'd had quite a bit of cleaning up to do once the restaurant had closed. He loved his job as a sous-chef but it came with long hours. Following out the door behind him was another sous-chef, Lance, a young red-haired Englishman. "You coming for coffee, Dustin?" "No, I'm already late to meet Malcolm. He's wanting me to meet some of his theater friends. He's been after me for it for weeks." "All right, if you change your mind we'll be at the diner on 4th and Grand." Lance waved and headed toward the parking lot. Dusty headed just the few steps into the lot where his motorcycle was parked. He was supposed to have been at the bar a couple of blocks from their apartment half an hour ago. Life was good for the most part. He and Malcolm had been happily domiciled for close to five years now. A year into being together as more than best friends, Malcolm had announced he wanted to be an actor. Not one in commercials or television or movies. A theater actor. He started out doing community theater and now actually appeared in many plays and even musicals in major venues in Los Angeles. Dusty had been impressed. He shouldn't have been that surprised. Malcolm had loved acting as far back as junior high when they'd first met. Dusty arrived at the bar just a few minutes later. It wasn't too far from the restaurant, which was why he hadn't bothered calling Malcolm to say he was on his way. Stepping inside the crowded college hangout, he scanned the people in the bar, looking for his boyfriend. He spotted him near the back corner surrounded by both men and women. Malcolm glanced his way just as he approached the large round table. He smiled and stood. "There you are. I was beginning to worry." "Sorry, took a bit long to clean up." Dusty embraced the much shorter Malcolm. He smelled amazing, clean and spicy. He couldn't help noticing Malcolm's shoulder length hair was loose and still damp from a recent shower. "You're here now, that's what's important." Malcolm returned to his seat and pulled Dusty into a seat next to him. "Everyone, this is Dustin." Someone on the other side of the table yelled a question about the play they were all in, and Malcolm turned to get involved in that discussion. Dusty frowned. None of them had even acknowledged him, let alone introduced themselves. Dusty reminded himself this night was about Malcolm. These were his friends and his time to shine. The guy to his left finally looked at him. He was a thin redhead. "Dustin, huh? I'm Lyle."

"Nice to meet you." "Are you an actor?" Lyle took a sip of some fruity looking drink. "No, I'm a chef." Lyle grimaced. "Oh." He turned back to the woman next to him, clearly dismissing Dusty's existence. Dusty gritted his teeth. Everyone at the table except him was involved in a lively conversation, including Malcolm. He liked seeing his boyfriend having fun. His face lit up and those dark eyes sparkled. He certainly didn't want to ruin things for him. A waitress flew by, totally ignoring him when he tried to flag her down, so after a few more minutes he got up and walked to the bar. No one back at the table seemed to notice, including Malcolm, who was gesturing wildly to several of the group. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a light beer. He kept his gaze on Malcolm's table while he drank it, but didn't return to sitting with them. After finishing his beer, he ordered coffee and, when Malcolm still didn't seem to miss his presence, he finished that and decided to go home. Knowing he was not in the mood to be invisible, Dusty decided he'd let Malcolm continue to have his fun. After paying his tab, he texted Malcolm's phone with the message, See you at home. He figured Malcolm would check his phone for a message when he finally got around to noticing Dustin was gone. In the few minutes it took him to reach their three bedroom apartment just off Wilshire Boulevard, Dusty rethought having left, but it was too late now. He'd made his choice. Times had changed for them since their first one bedroom dumpy apartment. They'd chosen the three bedroom place for the location. It was close enough to Wilshire where much of the action they were involved with happened, but far enough away for them not to pay the outrageous rents for apartments on Wilshire. Besides their bedroom, one room served as Malcolm's office where he still created his homoerotic romances and the other was the exercise room. Dusty headed there to do some cardio before Malcolm came home. The front door opened about an hour later. Dusty had just wiped off the treadmill and briefly wondered if Malcolm would be mad. "Dust? You there?" Malcolm called from the living room. "In here." Malcolm appeared seconds later, smiling. "Hey, honey. I got your text. What happened to you? One minute you were there and then gone. Too tired?" "Sorry about that. I just felt a little left out, I guess." "No problem. I'm sure all that acting talk can get boring for you. I just wanted them to meet my man." Malcolm wrinkled his nose. "My smelly man." Dusty laughed. "Sorry, I was just going to go take a shower." "Well, I've already had one, but I don't see why I'm not up for another." Malcolm reached for his hand and led him down the hall toward their bedroom. He went straight into the bathroom, opened the glass shower doors, and turned on the knobs. "I was only going to stay until midnight but we got to talking. I'm sorry. You aren't too tired?" "Not too tired for some shower sex," Dustin assured him. "Ah, I see." Malcolm grinned and peeled Dustin's sweaty workout shirt from his body, then threw it toward the clothes

hamper. He added his own navy T-shirt. "Drop the sweatpants and get into the shower." Dustin kicked off his shoes, yanked off his sweats, and got under the shower spray. Malcolm entered the shower after him. He threw his arms around Dusty's neck and kissed him. "Mmm. I missed you all day." "I missed you, too." He pulled his lover against him, his hand slipping between their bodies to close around Malcolm's erection. "What's your schedule tomorrow?" Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned into Dusty. "Um, I'm having breakfast with some of the others from the play, but not until ten. And then, I'm coming home to write for the rest of the day. The play's dark tomorrow night. How about you?" "Day off tomorrow. Have the whole day and night to veg." "Oh, that's fucking fabulous." He turned around to present his ass to Dusty, who squeezed the perfect globes. Though they no longer had the need for condoms, they had a few of those soap dispensers in the shower and one they had filled with lube. Dusty squirted some into his palm and liberally spread it over his hard cock. Lifting Malcolm's silky sable hair, he sucked on the back of his lover's pale neck. Malcolm leaned his head back, exposing more of his throat to Dusty's lips. There were some really cool things about being together for several years. Knowing just what turned on your partner was definitely one of them. Dusty reached back and squirted more lube into his hand, this time inserting his index finger between Malcolm's rounded butt cheeks. He swirled around the hole for a moment, teasing him. "Mmm," Malcolm moaned as the finger slipped inside. He pushed back against it until it was in up to the knuckle. After a few heartbeats, Dusty added two more fingers, working them into prepare his lover. Another thing he knew Malcolm liked was his nipples played with. It was actually something they shared. He slid his other hand along to the front of Malcolm's torso, and up to his slightly defined chest. Malcolm shuddered and gasped as his thumb stroked across first one and then the other bud. "Dusty, please." He quickly replaced his fingers with his hard cock, pushing in slowly to savor the way Malcolm's ass clenched around him. Dusty growled low in his throat, prolonging it still, just adding an inch every few moments. "Damn, you're a tease," Malcolm protested with a laugh. "Hmm, I've just begun to tease." His hand fluttered down from Malcolm's nipples to his lower abdomen. He caressed there with a few light strokes, even as he finally pushed all the way inside Malcolm's ass. "Are you...are you going to move?" Malcolm demanded, pushing back again, trying to get him to thrust. His mouth grazed his lover's ear. "In a moment." His answer was a whimper. Dusty chuckled. If he weren't ready to collapse from exhaustion, he might have prolonged the shower fuck longer still. He liked the feel of just holding Malcolm while their bodies were joined. But his feet hurt from standing all damn night and he just wanted to crawl under the covers and forget everything. With just a touch of reluctance, Dusty began to pump his love's ass with deep thorough thrusts. His hand slid down from Malcolm's stomach to his long, thick, hard cock. "Oh, God, Dusty." Malcolm groaned, his hands braced against the shower walls. His legs spread farther apart to give Dustin more leverage to push deep inside him.

Dusty closed his eyes as he pounded in balls-deep, his hand stroking Malcolm's cock. The shower spray splattered on their bodies in almost identical rhythm. Even as he felt the first tingles of his own orgasm on the edge, he held back, determined to bring Malcolm off first. He used one hand to jerk Malcolm's dick and the other to tweak his nipples hard, pulling gasps of pleasure from his lover. He knew Malcolm was close. He angled the next thrust of his cock to hit the other man's prostate. "Ah, Godddddd," Malcolm moaned, tensing and jerking. White globs of cum hit the shower tile. It was all he needed to send him finally over the edge to his own release. He pumped fast and furious and came with a hoarse cry. Withdrawing from his lover, Dusty leaned heavily against the wall, his breaths coming in short pants. Malcolm touched him. "Are you okay? Did you take your asthma medication today?" He nodded. "I'm okay. Just a little winded." Malcolm hugged him. "Maybe you should use your inhaler when we get out." "Yeah." "Let me wash your hair," Malcolm said, squirting out shampoo from its dispenser. He brought Dusty's head down within reaching distance and lathered up his hair. Then he did the same for his own. After they'd rinsed, Malcolm grabbed his hand, led him to the bath mat and toweled him off with a big fluffy towel. "You don't have to dry me off," he protested, yawning. Malcolm smiled. "I like taking care of you. It's one my pleasures in life." He drew Dusty into the bedroom and had him sit on the edge of the bed while he fetched his pajamas. He also brought over his inhaler. Dusty took a few puffs. "I have to admit I kinda like you taking care of me." "Good, because I plan to do it forever. Now get into bed like a good boy." Malcolm grinned and gently pushed Dusty to lay down. He covered him with the sheets and blankets. "I love you, Dust." Dusty yawned again, feeling unbelievably content. "I love you, too." Life was really good sometimes.

Chapter 2

Malcolm came out of the bathroom the next morning towel drying his hair after a nice hot shower. He tiptoed over to the bed and looked down at the still sleeping Dustin. Poor sweetie really did work too much. He knew Dusty's dream was to be a head chef sooner rather than later so he worked long and hard. Malcolm gently caressed the dark circle under Dusty's right eye. He knew it wouldn't wake up his boyfriend. The man could sleep through a freight train barreling through their living room. He couldn't help but smile at the tussled strawberry blond curls. He wrapped one curved lock around his finger. Dusty was the sweetest man in the world and he was damned lucky Dusty had chosen to fall in love with him. He stepped away from the bed and went to the dresser for his clothes. The plan was to meet his friends for breakfast at an IHOP not too far from the theater in downtown Los Angeles where they were rehearsing for a new play that would replace the current one in production. They'd decided to skip rehearsals on that day as they'd been ahead of schedule. Malcolm dressed in jeans and a navy pullover sweater and then tied his hair back with a rubber band. He dropped a kiss on Dusty's forehead and left for his appointment. He was the first to arrive at the IHOP even though he got their five minutes after ten. Besides himself it was to be his friends, Lyle Brown, Courtney Kennedy, and Randy Yamimoto, so he just went ahead and got a table. When they'd finally all arrived and exchanged air kisses, which always made Malcolm roll his eyes, it was nearly half past ten. Lyle and Courtney were a couple, although Malcolm very much suspected, given their constant bickering, they wouldn't last much longer. Courtney looked a bit like a young Meryl Streep, at least to him, and Lyle was tall and lanky like a basketball player. Honestly, Malcolm didn't know what she saw in Lyle, who was kind of a jackass. They were in the play, of course, but they were more Randy's friends than his. Randy was his best theater friend. The Japanese American was gay like Malcolm, although he was unattached, and he was always talking about Broadway. "Pass the coffeepot, will you, hon?" Randy still looked half asleep at ten-thirty. "What time did you go to sleep?" He scooted the carafe in Randy's direction after pouring himself a little more. "Didn't. After you went home to the old ball and chain I hooked up with some biker dude at the bar." Malcolm frowned and poured in a little cup of cream. "Who? What was his name?" Randy shrugged. "Didn't think to ask. Went back to his place and did it all night. Insatiable the guy was." His jaw dropped. "And you didn't even know his name?" "Well, why was that important? It's not like we're going to see each other again." Randy yawned. Malcolm buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "I hope you at least practiced safe sex."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." "Randy's name fits him, Malcolm," Lyle said with a smile. "Didn't you know?" "I guess I'm learning." "Listen, dear," Courtney said, reaching out to run her hand along his arm. "The three of us wanted to meet with you and not the others for a reason." "Oh?" Randy leaned forward. "It's our dream come true." "I'm the one who got the deal, let me tell it," Lyle said, glaring daggers at Randy. "I was talking to my friend, Rich, you know, the director." The man had paused dramatically, staring expectantly at Malcolm, so he guessed he better respond. "Right. I remember you mentioning your friend." Lyle snorted like he expected a better reaction or something, but he continued, "And he's going to be auditioning a play on Broadway a week after our current play ends." "And you know what that means?" Courtney interrupted, squeezing his arm hard. "Jesus, Court, I'm getting to it," Lyle said. She rolled her eyes but said nothing. "He's seen our work. I mean the four of us and he wants us to come to New York. He thinks we'll be perfect." Lyle grinned and took a huge bite of his pancakes. "New York? New York City?" "Yes, New York," Randy spoke up. "Fucking Broadway, man. The big time. This could be it, Malcolm." He had to admit to a certain amount of excitement. What stage actor didn't want to be acting on Broadway? But a couple of things kept him from being quite as excited as his friends seemed to be. "That sound great, fabulous," he admitted. "But what about the play that comes up right after this one? We've already been rehearsing." "Hello, Broadway." Randy waved his hand directly in front of Malcolm's face. "Yes, but--" "No problem," Lyle said. "I already talked to the directors there and told them we couldn't do it. They're going to change to our understudies. They're cool with it, Malcolm." He nodded, all right with that, though he wasn't thrilled about backing out of a commitment, especially for a maybe opportunity. It was Broadway though, so he didn't want to cut off his nose to spite his face. Randy nudged him. "What's up? You're not excited like I thought you'd be." "I am excited. I just...how long do you suppose we'll be there?"

"It depends, dear." Courtney smiled. "If the play tanks, then not very long at all. But if it's successful, we could be there weeks, months, maybe even years." "Years?" His stomach twisted with dread. "Sure." She waved her manicured hand. "Look how long Cats has been on Broadway." "The first thing we have to do, of course, is get the parts," Lyle said. Randy eyed him. "Are you worried about being separated from the ball and chain?" "Dustin is very important to me. So yeah, I don't want to be apart from him for a long time." "Look, dude, like Lyle said, we have to get the parts, and then the play has to even make it. You could be back in a very short time. But if you aren't, you cross that bridge then. Maybe Dustin can come visit you or relocate with you at that point." "Relocate?" Malcolm didn't think Dustin would go for that. He was trying to build his chef's career in Los Angeles. "If it comes to that. There are plenty of restaurants he can work at in New York, isn't there? This is a great opportunity, Malcolm, and you are not passing it up." Lyle smiled with too much smugness. "Now, let's figure out airfare and when we want to leave." **** Malcolm didn't make it home from his breakfast with the other three until nearly one o'clock. On the drive home, he was trying to decide how to break the news of him going to New York to Dusty. He knew Dusty would never stop him from doing something he truly wanted. But that didn't mean his lover would be glad or even okay with the separation. He'd thought long and hard about it, though, and Malcolm realized he did want the opportunity. "Dust? You home?" he asked as soon as he stepped through the front door. "In the kitchen," Dusty yelled. The sight of his lover bent over looking into the fridge, his jeans stretched tight and low over his ass, with just a hint of his white cotton briefs visible, made his mouth water and his cock jumped to attention, too. Damn. Malcolm could not resist walking up behind him and giving that ass a playful swat. Dusty chuckled and straightened, pulling Malcolm into a hug and kissing him thoroughly. "Hey, there, how was your breakfast?" "It was fine. And now I want dessert." Dusty raised an eyebrow. "Dessert after breakfast?" He grinned. "Yeah, cause you're my dessert." His lover laughed. "I see." Malcolm curved a hand over Dusty's right cheek and dipped inside to stroke his fingers along the bare flesh. "Let me get the

lube." He kissed Dusty and then, with a flick of his head, indicated the dining room table. He winked and went down the hall for the lube. When he came back to the dining room Dusty had already removed his tight jeans and the briefs and lay on the table with his legs spread and his bare ass on the edge. "Oh, yeah, babe." Malcolm almost swallowed his tongue. Telling Dusty about Broadway could definitely wait. He unzipped his jeans and dropped them to his feet. Squirting a generous amount of lube, he slid his fingers between Dusty's cheeks and inside, spreading his lover open. Dusty gasped. "Damn, that stuff is cold," he said, laughing. "Tell me about it." He slicked some on his erection. When first they'd gotten together, Malcolm had been content to let Dustin take the active role, as he had with his prior boyfriend, but curiosity and Dustin's willingness to experiment had gotten the better of him, and Malcolm now thoroughly enjoyed fucking his lover as much as he liked being fucked himself. He pushed just the tip of his cock inside Dusty. "Ready?" "Yes. Fuck me." Dusty hooked his hands under his legs and lifted them to angle his ass to take Malcolm deeper. Malcolm slipped in balls-deep. Dusty's passage closed around his cock and he closed his eyes on a moan. He began to move, slow and deep, wanting to take his time. For the next couple of weeks he'd want to savor every moment, every second, every kiss with Dusty. It might have to last them for a while. Dusty moved one hand off his leg to close around his dick, stroking it in rhythm to Malcolm's thrusts. He loved the way his lover's pale skin flushed when he was excited. Malcolm looked down at Dusty's hand working on his reddened cock. He ran his tongue along his lips. He decided he wanted Dusty to come in his mouth. He eased out. "What?" Dusty asked, his eyes wide with shock. "Shhh." One hand under Dusty's ass, he lifted his legs around his shoulders, and sucked Dusty's cock into his mouth. "Oh, God." Dusty shook beneath him, pushing in deeper. With his free hand, he jerked himself even as he licked along Dusty's shaft, swirling his tongue along the head, grazing his teeth against the slit. His whole body thrummed with the urge to come, but first he wanted to bring Dusty off. He trailed his lips down to his lover's balls and sucked hard on them. Dusty bucked as his lips once more moved up to the tip. "Malcolm," Dusty yelled, pumping frantically. Warm, thick liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed as much as he could even as some dribbled out onto his chin. Malcolm released Dusty's cock and moved so he would come over his lover's abdomen. He grasped his dick in both hands and stroked it a couple more times before shooting across Dusty's stomach. Dusty lowered his feet to the floor and scooted off the table. His fingers traced through the goo on his tummy. "Now, I'm all sticky." He grinned. "Complaining?" "Hell, no." Dusty pulled him close and lowered his lips to his for a lingering kiss. "I guess I should send you off to have breakfast more often."

Malcolm flinched just a bit at the reminder he would have to tell his lover about New York. He pulled up his pants and refastened them. "Did you get something to eat?" "Yeah, I fixed myself an omelet." Dusty had wiped his stomach with a paper towel and was redressing himself. "I was looking to see what to fix for dinner when you got home." "I'll fix us dinner. I'm sure you get enough cooking for everyone else." He threw his arms around the man he loved. "There is something important I have to talk to you about." Dusty eyed him warily, pushing him gently away. "Oh? Were you just buttering me up?" "No, never." He hoped he looked appropriately innocent. "Okay, babe, what's up?" Dusty leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. Malcolm sighed. He may as well just get it over with. "Randy and the others are talking about going to New York in a couple of weeks to audition for a Broadway show. And there's a part for me to audition for, too. They want me to go with them." "All right. What do you want to do?" He took a deep breath. "I'd like to go. I know it could be nothing and I might not even get the part, but I do want to try." His lover nodded. "Then you should." "Really?" he asked hopefully. "Yes, really. I want you to be happy, Malcolm. That's what I've always wanted. If going to New York and getting this part makes you happy, then I'm for it." Malcolm hugged him tight, burying his face in his chest. "You're the best." Dusty laughed. "I don't know about that." "I know you can't come with me. But there's a chance that if the play is successful I could be there for a while." "I know, honey. I know how it works." "I hate being away from you." "Me, too. But you can't pass this up. I love you, Malcolm." "I love you, too. Thank you for being so fucking cool." Dusty ruffled his hair. "You're still making dinner."

Chapter 3

Dusty parked their sedan in short term parking at LAX and he and Malcolm got out. His heart was the heaviest it had been in over five years. It hurt like hell that Malcolm was leaving for New York City. He wanted his lover to follow his dream, of course, but it still hurt. He plastered on his best understanding smile. After all, he did understand. Dusty had a dream himself. He wanted to be head chef at Master Geoffrey's when the current head chef retired. Popping the trunk, Dusty reached in for Malcolm's rolling suitcase and carry-on. "Wow, it's crowded," Malcolm said as they headed across the busy street hand-in-hand into the departure area. "It's always busy." Dustin couldn't go past the security gates to see Malcolm off, but he still intended to be sure he met up with his friends and was checked in. They were flying out Saturday morning and the auditions were supposed to begin on Monday. He absolutely believed Malcolm would get the part. Malcolm had more talent in his little finger than any of his schmoozey friends. "I'll call you as soon as we get off the plane." "Great." "And as soon as we get to the hotel, too," Malcolm promised with a sweet smile. Dusty returned his smile and tightened his grip on Malcolm's hand. As they approached the check-in area of the airline they were flying out on, he saw Malcolm's friends waving at him. He recognized Randy from a handful of times he'd met the man. He hadn't seen Randy at the bar the night he'd been introduced, briefly, to Lyle, though Malcolm said he'd been there. Malcolm had told him the woman was called Courtney. Malcolm led them to his friends. "Hey, everyone. I can't believe you got here before me." "Courtney made us," Randy said. He tilted his head toward Dusty. "Nice to see you." The tone told Dusty the man meant pretty much the opposite, but that was fine with him. He didn't think much of Randy. Far be it for him to tell Malcolm who to be friends with though. As long as they weren't abusing Malcolm, it was up to him, not Dusty. If one of them hurt him in anyway, though, that would be a different story. "Randy." He turned to the other two. "You must be Courtney." "Yes, how do you do, Dustin?" She gave him her hand. After shaking it, he said to the man standing next to her. "Lionel, wasn't it?" It was a struggle to keep a straight face. "Lyle." The man sniffed. "Right." He smiled.

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Will you guys excuse us for a moment?" He left his bags with Randy and then tugged Dusty away into a corner by the door. Dusty looked around the airport, but no one seemed to be looking at them. Not even Malcolm's friends. Malcolm had fastened his hair into a ponytail for traveling, but he gently pulled it out and ran his fingers through the silky softness. "I hate this," Malcolm whispered, closing his eyes. "Me, too." He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his lover's forehead. "We'll get through it though. I love you more than anything." Malcolm hugged him very tight. "You know I feel the same. You're my best friend, my lover, my significant other, everything." Dusty glanced around once more and then kissed Malcolm quickly on the lips. "Good luck. Stay safe. It's still break a leg, right?" Malcolm released him and stepped back. "Yeah. I love you. I'll call you." "Here." Dusty took the rubber band and rebound Malcolm's hair. "Have a safe trip." "Don't work too hard. Get plenty of rest," Malcolm called as he walked away toward his friends. Dusty waved, swallowing the lump in his throat. He turned and walked out the automatic doors. Numbly, he made his way back to his car. Really, this was going to be the first time ever they'd been apart for any length of time since they met in junior high school. They'd been fast friends ever since and even when they weren't a couple they'd spent nearly every day of their lives together. He did the errands he needed to do, going to the bank and grocery store on the way home. Once he got home, he had a bit of cleaning to do of their apartment before he would have to leave for work. It was nice to be busy, it kept his mind off of Malcolm and how much he already missed him. Pathetic he knew. He might have a really long time to get used to missing Malcolm. **** By the time he had to leave for work, Malcolm had not called. While it was true his boyfriend should already be in New York, Dusty figured he'd probably been too excited to call. He was far too busy to take calls at work, so it wasn't until a short meal break later that night he was able to check his voice mail. He walked outside to the back alley behind the restaurant. "Hey, honey," Malcolm's voice came from his cell. In the background he could hear laughing and talking. Malcolm hushed them or attempted to anyway. Then he heard Malcolm's warm laughter. "Sorry, everyone's really excited to be here. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. I know you're at work. Things were a little crazy here. Anyway, finally got to the hotel and then we went to eat right away. That's where I'm calling from. We ended up meeting with some other actors Randy knows so there's a big group of us. I think we're going to a club later. I'll call you after the audition. I love you, Dust, and miss you so much already. Um, gotta go. Bye." Dusty sighed and turned off his phone. He was glad Malcolm seemed to be having a good time. "Dustin," his friend, Lance, said as he came outside. He took out a lighter to light the cigarette dangling from his lips. "Hi." He liked Lance a lot. The red-haired, rather short British man was probably his closest friend at Master Geoffrey's. He'd only started a couple of months ago, but they had hit it off.

"I know you'll say no, because you always do," Lance said with a smile. "But we're going for coffee after closing if you're interested." "Actually, sure, I'll come." What the hell did he have to lose? He had no one to go home to and he'd end up feeling sorry for himself. Lance puffed out smoke and stared. "What? Isn't Malcolm waiting?" "Nah, he left for New York today. Remember I told you?" "That's right. So, you're a single man again, huh?" He laughed. "Definitely not, but I can go for coffee." **** It ended up being himself, Lance, and one of the waiters at the restaurant, Maurice, a tall thin, balding man. They went to the usual diner at 4th and Grand. "So, your boyfriend wants to be an actor, huh?" Maurice asked, putting his fourth packet of sugar into his coffee. "Yes. He's a writer, too." "Oh?" Maurice raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "Pass the sugar again, Lance. What's he write?" "Gay romance." Lance smiled. "Pretty well, too." "You've read his work?" Dusty asked, surprised. "Sure. Life is not made up of only cooking." Lance shrugged. "And if I can't find Mr. Right I may as well read about it." Maurice sighed. "I was going to be an actor once." "Yeah?" "You think I came from Chicago to be a waiter? I had dreams like anyone else. I came here in the eighties. Even did some commercials and walk-on parts on the soaps." He poured a tiny drop of cream into his oversweet coffee. "I guess I just didn't have what it took to be successful." Lance smirked. "Which was?" "Talent." They laughed. "Malcolm doesn't want to do commercials or even television and movies. He does theater acting," Dusty said. "He used to talk about it all the time when we were kids, but after graduation, he kind of dropped it. When he brought it up again, I worried a bit. We're not young fresh-faced kids anymore ,and isn't that who are mostly trying to break into acting?" "True," Maurice agreed. "But Malcolm doesn't want to be famous. He just likes doing plays and such and he's pretty good."

Lance eyed him and gestured to the passing waitress for more coffee. "Think he'll get the part then?" Dusty nodded. "Yes." "Well, that'll suck won't it?" Maurice asked. "You aren't moving there are you?" "No, I don't want to." "Good, because, that's one of the things we wanted to talk to you about. Right, Lance?" "Yes." Lance waved at the waitress who'd been ignoring him. "I was talking to the owner night before last and she said Seymour is talking about retiring sooner rather than later." His pulse quickened at the news about the head chef. "Like how soon are you talking?" "Within six months," Lance said. "And Seymour intends to recommend you for the head chef job." "Are you fucking kidding me?" The other two men smiled. "No. Within six months you'll be head chef, Dustin. Your dream come true," Lance said. Maurice smiled. "This calls for a celebration. We should go for drinks." Lance said, "I don't drink." "And I'm on the wagon," Maurice replied. "Hot fudge sundaes?" Dustin laughed. "Sounds perfect."

Chapter 4

Three Months Later

Malcolm lay on his single bed in the small studio apartment he shared with Randy. They'd rented it shortly after getting the parts in the play. The rehearsals were finished and now tomorrow night they were opening. He glanced at the door. He was alone, for now. He didn't seem to have too much privacy. Randy was usually there. Sometimes his roommate brought someone home and Malcolm was either forced to listen to or watch them fucking, or he had to make himself scarce. Getting ready for tomorrow night was fantastic, but he missed Dusty so much it was nearly killing him. Three months apart. If the play was successful it might be longer, especially if he couldn't convince Dusty to move to New York. He picked up his cell phone and called Dusty, just needing to hear his lover's voice. "Um, hello," Dusty's tired, sleepy voice rasped. "It's me, sorry to wake you. I know it's still early there." Malcolm closed his eyes. "I miss you." "I miss you, too." "Fuck, I knew this was going to be hard, but it really sucks." Dusty laughed softly. "Yeah. What are you doing?" "Just laying here in bed thinking about you. What have you been doing?" "Working mostly. Seeing some friends. Mark's coming over tomorrow." "Oh, is that Vanessa's wedding? Poor guy." "Yeah, he'll get through it. How are you doing?" "Sad, homesick. Still thinking of you," Malcolm said softly. "Hmm. How much are you thinking about me?" "A lot." "Enough to stroke yourself?" Dusty voice had dropped low and deep sending shivers through him. Malcolm glanced toward the door of the apartment again. He dipped his hand down his sweatpants to close around his hardening cock. "Are you touching yourself, too?"

"Yes. I have my fist wrapped around the tip, wishing it was yours." "Oh, God," he whispered. His scooted his sweats down to get rid of their encumbrance. Running his finger along the slit, he smeared the drop of pre-cum. "Mmm," Dusty moaned. "Squeeze your balls." Malcolm's fingers slid down to cup his sac and roll them in his palm. "Yours, too." He licked his dry lips. "I am. I'm stroking them and the shaft, thinking of you, baby." He groaned and moved to curve his hand around his cock, jerking hard and fast to Dusty's breaths over the phone. "I wish I was there with you," Dusty said. "You'd be straddling me, riding my cock. I'd be so deep you could feel me everywhere." "Dust," he gasped. "Are you close?" "Yes, God, yes." "Me, too." His strokes became frantic, his panting breaths short and loud in the quiet apartment. Malcolm's orgasm tingled at the base of his spine, sending little jolts through his whole body. "Come for me, babe," Dusty whispered. The bed shook with his release, white cum covering his hand and splattering onto his sweatpants. On the other end he heard his lover gasping out his own fulfillment. Malcolm reached for a tissue from the box next to his bed and wiped himself before pulling his pants back up. He didn't want to be hanging out when Randy came home. "I love you, Dusty. I miss you so much, it's killing me." "I know. We'll get through this, sweetheart." Dusty sighed. "I'll bet you're pretty excited about opening night." He smiled. "I am. I wish you could be here." "I wish that too, but I can't get away from the restaurant." Malcolm was really beginning to hate Dusty's restaurant. He didn't like the feeling. It made him feel selfish. He knew being a chef at Master Geoffrey's had been Dusty's dream even back in chef school, so he'd been thrilled to get the job as sous-chef. He worked damn hard and would make head chef someday. "Malcolm?" "I'm still here. Maybe, you know, if the show is a hit, you can arrange some time to come and see me. Just for a few days." "I'll definitely try. I promise." He closed his eyes, his brief euphoria over their shared masturbation gone. Long distance relationships sucked. In the past three months he'd existed on only phone sex. While it was nice, it wasn't nearly enough. "I should let you go back to sleep.

Sorry I woke you." "I'm not. I can go back to sleep. I love you, Malcolm. You know that, right?" "Yeah. I love you, too. Goodnight." **** Later, when night fell on New York, Randy, Lyle, and Courtney had talked him into going to dinner with them. Malcolm hadn't wanted to go. He'd discovered with shocking clarity since arriving in New York that he was a homebody. He did not like the party lifestyle at all. It wasn't that he had believed he was a partier back home. Malcolm had always known he'd rather be home with his man. Coming to New York had just made him realize he not only preferred a sedate lifestyle, but he abhorred the social party scene. Something, unfortunately, that could not likewise be said about his three companions. More often than not they wheedled and cajoled until he agreed to go with them. Mostly to prove he wasn't a stick in the mud, but also because when he did stay in it made him morosely aware of how empty his life was without Dusty. "That dinner was fabulous," Randy declared as they exited the too-expensive restaurant. "The best food I've ever had." "It was okay." "Okay? When have you had better food then that?" Randy nudged him. "Well, to be honest, Dustin's restaurant." "It's not his restaurant. It's just some place he works. But whatever, dude. You're just way too biased about anything to do with that ball and chain of yours." Malcolm ignored him. He didn't feel like being riled, and lately everything Randy said annoyed him. "I think it's cute he's so loyal to Dustin," Courtney said as they started walking down the Manhattan streets toward their next destination, a bar called Antonio's. "And anyway, the food here was good, but hardly the best I've ever had. You're just over the moon about it because you had the hots for our waiter." Randy grinned. "He had the hots for me, too. Didn't you notice when I went to use the restroom, he was gone, too?" "Oh, gross," Lyle said. "You mean to tell me you did our waiter? I hope he washed his hands." "That is gross." Malcolm shook his head. "I swear you'll do anyone." "What? He was cute. Courtney, wasn't he cute?" She shrugged and kept walking. Randy sniffed. "Well, whatever, man. I'm the one who got some. None of you did. Just think, this time tomorrow, we'll be on stage. That's so fucking cool." They all murmured their agreement and, for a couple of short blocks, they fell silent to their own thoughts. Malcolm wondered how much longer the four of them would be friends. He'd spent far more time with them in New York than he had in Los Angeles. And the more time he spent with them, the less he liked them. The fact of the matter was, he had a feeling by this time back at home, the four of them would have drifted apart. "Even if this play doesn't make it," Randy said, "I'm staying here."

"What? Really?" "Oh, yeah. I love it here. It's so much better than LA. I got connections here now so even if this one bombs, which it won't, I'm never going back there. I've already been contacted about trying out for a dancer in a show later this year." Malcolm bit his lip. "What about you two? Are you going to stay here, too?" "I've thought about it," Courtney said. "Since my dream is to do theater, this is the place to be. Here and London. I could see myself there, too. Oh, it's fine in LA. But most of that is movies and television. I'm not getting younger, so this is my chance to see where I can go. Haven't you thought about that, Malcolm?" He shook his head. "No. I guess I just assumed once this was over, I'd go home. I like acting, it's great, but I also like writing. I don't have dreams of winning Tony awards or any of that. I had just as much fun acting in Community Theater as here." "I'm not sure what I'll do," Lyle said. "I'm waiting to see how we do with this one." As they approached the next block, Malcolm noticed someone standing in a rather dark doorway. He frowned. Something about the way the person kept looking in their direction made him nervous. He wanted to ask them to turn around and go back the way they'd come or to cross the street or something. The guy, whoever he was, gave off bad vibes. Malcolm didn't say anything though and just walked toward the guy with the others. The man, a middle-aged white man with a shaggy beard, slipped from the shadows and pointed a pistol at them. Malcolm's heart stuttered. "Give me your money," the man snarled, lifting the barrel to point directly at Courtney's chest. Courtney squealed and raised her hands. "No need for that," Lyle said, reaching for his wallet. He took out his cash and gave it to the gunman. His hand shaking, Malcolm did the same. "Your purse lady," the man growled. He glared at Randy. "Your money now." "I don't have any," Randy said. Courtney handed him her purse, which he quickly rifled through and threw behind them. The robber raised his gun toward Randy. "Give me your fucking money now." His heart leaping nearly to choke him, Malcolm whispered, "Randy, for God's sake." Randy puffed out a breath and then reached into his front pocket for his money. He gave it to the robber who then turned and ran up the street in the direction they were headed. Malcolm's knees felt weak enough to give out. He grabbed onto Courtney's arm. "Are you okay?" "Yes, yes, I'm fine." She gave him a shaky smile but she was very pale. "I-I think we should contact the police." "We should have resisted," Randy said with a pout. "That was all my damn cash." "You almost got your stupid head shot off, asshole." Lyle shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling."

Later, after they had given their statements to police, Lyle and Courtney went to their apartment in the same building as his and Randy's. Malcolm went straight into the bathroom at his apartment and turned on the shower. He felt dirty even though the robber had never touched him. Should he call Dusty? He didn't want to worry him. Nothing had happened except he lost a few dollars. Shaking, he got under the warm shower mist. Eventually his own tears joined the water spray. He hated it here. Obviously he knew something like that could happen anywhere. But he knew the areas to avoid in Los Angeles. He just wanted to go home and be with Dusty.

Chapter 5

"You want another beer?" Dusty asked his friend Mark. He'd just leaned into the refrigerator to get one for himself. "Sure, thanks." Mark smiled a little sadly from his seat on the sofa in Dusty's apartment. Mark had been his friend since their days waiting tables at a seafood restaurant. Back then, Mark had a beautiful wife, Vanessa, who always insisted she could set Dusty up with the perfect man. Now, Mark and Vanessa were divorced and he got to see his four year old son every other week. He handed Mark a beer bottle and took his seat next to him on the couch. "How are you doing?" "All right I guess. I can't believe she married someone else already." Mark stared down at the beer in his grasp. His dark brown eyes were suspiciously watery. Today, of course, had been Vanessa's wedding to her new husband. Though he never said it, Dusty suspected it had especially irked Mark when Vanessa hooked up with the white guy who'd been her boss at the accounting firm where she worked. A few times Mark had told Dusty he thought their affair was merely an experimental thing for both of them. And then, Vanessa had announced her engagement. "I know," Dusty said softly. "Want to talk about it?" Mark snorted. "What's to talk about? You think you know someone, right? You think they're the love of your life or something and then you find out they're screwing their boss." Dusty had been as surprised as anyone to learn Vanessa was cheating on Mark. He didn't really know what to say. "And then, she has the nerve to invite me to their wedding." Mark took a swig of his beer. "When do you pick up your son?" Mark would be watching his son while Vanessa and her new husband went on their honeymoon. "Tomorrow morning." Mark put his nearly full beer on the coffee table. "Enough about her and her husband. What's going on with Malcolm? When are you talking to him next?" "He's going to call me tonight after the opening performance." Mark nodded. "That's great, man. But what are you going to do if he doesn't come back?" "What?" His friend shrugged. "Think about it. He's in New York now. Exciting life. Acting on Broadway. This play is just the start, Dustin. He'll get another one after this. And of course he'll want to stay." Dusty frowned. "No, he's coming back."

Mark gave him what could only be described as a sympathetic look. "Sure." "He knows I don't want to move there. I've got the restaurant." "Right, but has it occurred to you, well, it's been three months since you've been together." Mark shrugged again. "If he stays there and you stay here, then you aren't going to be a couple anymore. If you really are now. Three months is a long time. I'm not trying to be mean, but are you sure Malcolm isn't already seeing someone else in New York?" "He would have told me." "Maybe, maybe not. Distance has to be hard on any relationship, even good ones. And take it from me, people change." Mark wiped his hand over his face and stood. "Sorry, man. I think I'm going to go. I didn't mean to bring you down or make you doubt Malcolm. I'm just being an ass." Dusty stood, too. "It's all right. I know you're upset. Are you sure you're okay to drive?" "Yeah, I'm good." He walked Mark to the door and gave him a brief hug. "Take care of yourself, okay?" "You, too. Talk to you soon." A little while later the phone rang and he thought it might be Malcolm, but it seemed maybe just a bit too early for him to be calling. "Hello?" "Dustin? It's Mavis Lewiston." Mavis was the owner of Master Geoffrey's. "Hi. How are you?" "Good, really good. Listen, Dustin, I'd like to meet with you tomorrow at the restaurant before we open. Say, maybe two?" "Sure, that should be fine." Dusty hesitated. "Is there a problem?" She laughed. "Oh, no. Well, maybe if you turn me down. Have a good night. See you then." At the dial tone, he disconnected and stared at the phone, his heart hammering hard. God, was this what he thought it was? Did Mavis plan on offering him the head chef job? Admittedly it was a bit earlier than he thought it was going to be. Speculation had been another three months before Seymour retired. But if it was head chef, well, he sure as hell wouldn't argue about the timing. He putzed around the house for the next few hours, fixing himself a salad for dinner, watching mindless television, and surfing the net, waiting for Malcolm to call about opening night. A part of him hoped the play would be an absolute disaster. He felt like the biggest prick on earth for wanting that. Dusty loved Malcolm more than anything and always had. Always would, no matter what. And above all else, he wanted his lover to be happy. So, it gave him no pleasure and quite frankly a stomachache feeling like this about the play's success. If the play bombed, Malcolm would be home sooner rather than later. It was after ten Pacific Time when Malcolm finally called. Dusty had been dozing on the couch. "Malcolm?"

"Hey," a very drunk sounding Malcolm yelled. He heard screaming and laughing in the background. And pounding rock music. Dusty frowned. "Where are you?" "Um, I dunno," Malcolm said, slurring his words. "I can barely hear you 'cause the place is just madness, but I wanted to tell you, we were great!" "Good, excellent." "Yeah, babe, we rocked the place. Everyone loved us and we were sold out." "Malcolm? Malcolm, hurry up!" Someone shouted from wherever Malcolm was. Dustin didn't recognize the man's voice. Malcolm laughed. "Yeah, okay, hold on. We even got a standing ovation. The director thinks we were a hit. I mean, I guess it's too soon to tell, but it went really well." "That's terrific. I'm really proud of you," Dusty said. "What?" "I said I'm really proud of you." "I'm sorry. I can't hear what you're saying. It's just too loud here!" Malcolm laughed again. "I'd better go. I love you!" "I love you, too." "What?" Dusty closed his eyes. "I love you, too," he yelled. "Okay, I'll call you tomorrow night when it's a little quieter. We just have the matinee tomorrow. Bye." He grimaced and shook his head. Well, at least it seemed like Malcolm was having a good time anyway. Dusty turned off the lights and went to his lonely, empty bed. **** For some reason, Dusty was nervous. He sat in Mavis's office, his hands clenched together, literally twiddling his thumbs. Or what he guessed was meant by twiddling anyway. Rolling his thumbs around each other over and over while he waited for his boss to finish with her phone call. He shifted in the chair, grimacing when the leather creaked loudly in the relatively quiet office. Dusty had arrived half an hour ago, and just after they'd exchanged pleasantries, Mavis got on a call that simply could not wait. Of course, it now gave him the time to second-guess everything. He still was pretty sure Mavis was going to offer him the head chef position. The problem was...he wasn't sure he should accept it. He wanted it just as much. Could taste it, really. No pun intended. And having to turn it down, if he did...if he should, would kill him. But he had Malcolm to think about. His life and the decisions about that life didn't just affect him. Malcolm was the most important person, the most important anything in his life. More than his dream of being head chef at Master Geoffrey's. If it came down to it, Dustin could get a job as a sous-chef in New York. It meant starting all over again, probably. Mavis ended her call and smiled at him. "Sorry about that, Dustin."

"Sure." Mavis was a woman who was likely close to sixty, if not over it. She had long dark hair though without a hint of gray. She kind of reminded Dustin of Morticia Addams. She had owned the restaurant for years, going back to the day when her husband Geoffrey had been alive and still the chef himself. Geoffrey had been gone for ten years. "I know how this restaurant is and I'm fairly certain you've heard the rumor Seymour is planning on retiring." "I have." "It's no longer a rumor. Seymour has informed me of his retirement next month. He's served this restaurant very well since my husband's death and, of course, we will miss him." Dustin nodded. "I don't have to tell you how very, very impressed everyone is with you, myself and Seymour especially. You've created or helped create some incredible and fascinating dishes that have greatly enhanced Master Geoffrey's. As you know there's been rampant speculation in Los Angeles that you were Seymour's heir apparent for some time. Seymour has requested you as his replacement himself and I couldn't agree more. We would like you to be Master Geoffrey's new head chef." Opportunities like this didn't happen every day and for a moment, he was literally speechless. He had expected it, even prayed for it, but now that it was his Dustin could barely comprehend it. "Dustin?" He opened his mouth to speak, moved his jaw back and forth to get his bearings. He should wait to talk to Malcolm. Tell Mavis he would think it over. "Thank you, I'm thrilled and honored to accept," Dustin heard himself say. He felt guilty for not talking to Malcolm first, but he knew in his heart Malcolm would be happy. He knew his lover wanted this for him. Dustin stood and accepted her offered handshake.

Chapter 6

Malcolm paced his apartment. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall, trying to decide if it was still too early to try calling Dusty again. He'd tried all day and all night Sunday and had never reached him. He realized Dusty probably worked but he hadn't returned any of Malcolm's messages and he'd called their apartment long after Dusty should have been home. Finally, he couldn't stand it. It was only seven California time and he knew Dusty would still be asleep at that time, but he couldn't wait anymore. He dialed his home number. "Mmello," Dusty's tired, sleep voice answered. Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his lover's voice. He sat on the edge of the ratty old sofa he and Randy and bought from a secondhand store. "It's me." "Oh." He heard the creek of their bed. "Sorry. I'm still trying to wake up. Is everything okay?" "Yes, it's you I'm worried about. I was calling you. I left you messages." Malcolm swallowed. "I'm sorry, babe. I was out celebrating," Dusty said, his voice now alert and excited. "Celebrating?" "Yes. God, I'm sorry, Malcolm. I should have called you. It's just everyone at work was so excited I got carried away." Malcolm frowned. "Slow down. What?" "Mavis offered me head chef at the restaurant. Seymour's retiring next month." There was a pause. "I should have talked to you about it, but I...it's just I found myself accepting." "No, that's-that's great." Malcolm's heart dropped. Not because he didn't want Dusty to be head chef. He knew that's what his boyfriend had wanted forever and so he absolutely wanted that for him. But Malcolm should have been there to celebrate such a great accomplishment with Dusty. "Malcolm?" He closed his eyes, surprised by the tears that sprang to his eyes. It hurt like hell that Dusty had been celebrating this without him. When Dusty had spoken of his dream in the past, they were supposed to experience it together. "I'm here. I...you know, I'll call you later. It's still early there and I-I have to go. Bye." He hung up before giving Dusty a chance to say anything else. He buried his head in his hands and tried to get a grip. Malcolm was happy for Dusty. Very much so. He didn't care at all that Dusty didn't talk to him before accepting because they'd talked about it many times before. Admittedly he was just feeling sorry for himself. Thinking of himself and what he had missed instead of thinking how Dusty must have felt.

The door of the apartment opened and Randy came in. Malcolm tried to wipe his eyes. "Hey, man, what's wrong?" Randy hurried over to sit beside him. He smelled strongly of whiskey and stale sex. "Nothing, I'm okay." "You are not. You're crying." Randy pulled him close. "Is it Dustin? Did you have a fight?" "Yes, well, no. Not a fight." Randy's hand moved from his back to Malcolm's leg and he started rubbing his thigh. He froze. "Um...what are you doing?" "Comforting my friend," Randy muttered against his neck. His hand moved to Malcolm's crotch and his fingers closed over it. "What? Stop." Malcolm grabbed his wrist just as Randy crushed his lips over his. He shoved hard and Randy barely moved. He tore his mouth away and shoved as hard as he could. "Get off." Knocked off balance, Randy tumbled off the couch to the floor. "Ouch. What the hell?" "What the hell is right. What do you think you're doing, Randy?" Malcolm rose from the couch angrily. "I thought...maybe, you know if you were lonely and upset, I could offer you something." Randy struggled to stand. "I'm with Dustin." "I know, but he doesn't have to know we did anything." Malcolm shook his head. "I'd know and therefore he'd know. God, I've been cheated on before and there's no worse feeling. I would never do that to Dustin. Ever." Randy rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever. Forget it. Jesus, you're such a pain. I'm going back out." "Maybe you should stay in. You're drunk, Randy." "Maybe you should mind your own business." Randy gave him a nasty look and grabbed up the leather jacket he had tossed on the dining room table when he'd entered. "Have fun feeling sorry for yourself." Malcolm shook his head when the door closed after Randy. He didn't know what he had ever seen in the man. He was no friend to Malcolm. But Randy had been right about one thing. He had been feeling sorry for himself. He had a decision to make and he was pretty damn sure he knew what it would be. First he had to go and talk to the director. **** Malcolm glanced at his watch once more. Almost half past eleven. He was damn exhausted, too. "Come on," he pleaded out loud. The door at the back of the building opened and he held his breath. "Malcolm?" Damn. "Hi, Lance," he said to the British sous-chef who worked with Dusty. "I was hoping you'd be Dustin."

"He should be out any second." Lance frowned. "But I thought you were in New York." "Yes, I was. I'm back now." Malcolm smiled. "For good." Lance returned his smile. "Dustin will be thrilled. I'll leave you to it. It's great to see you." "You, too." He waved as Lance walked out to the parking lot. He turned back to the door, waiting anxiously. Finally, three minutes later the door creaked open, slow as molasses, it seemed to Malcolm. Dusty appeared in the doorway. His eyes bugged almost like a cartoon character and Malcolm had to laugh. Dusty looked so damn adorable befuddled. His heart was light as he rushed to his lover and threw his arms around the startled man. "Oh, my God," Dusty said into Malcolm's hair. He hugged him tight. "You're real." "Of course I'm real." Dustin wouldn't let him go, he just tightened his hug. "How? Why? I mean, I'm so happy. But--" "Shh, we'll talk at home. For now just know I love you and I'm home to stay." Dusty finally released him but held him at arm's length. "I can't believe you're here." Malcolm grasped his hand. "I am. I got a cab home and then drove straight here. Is your bike here?" "Yes, but I can leave it here and ride home with you." Dusty could barely sit still on the short drive to their apartment. As soon as they got inside, Dusty pushed Malcolm against the wall in the front hall and devoured his lips. Malcolm moaned. He realized he should have expected this, considering how long they'd been apart. He managed to get his hands free enough to pull his shirt off over his head. "Bedroom?" "Uh-huh, in a minute." Dusty's lips covered his once more, the kiss frantic, hard, and bruising. His fingers dipped into the waistband of Malcolm's jeans and he pulled him flat against him, quivering stomach to quivering stomach. He got his fingers under Dusty's shirt, stroking the hot, bare skin. "Please, Dusty," he gasped against his lover's lips. "Take me to bed." Dusty nodded, blowing out a shaky breath. He pulled off his own shirt and tossed it on top of Malcolm's and then they hurried to the bedroom. As soon as they reached their room, they both took care of the remainder of their clothes and fell to the mattress, their lips locking, relearning the taste of each other. As Dusty's hand closed around Malcolm's cock, he asked, "Are you going to tell me why you're back home? Did something go wrong? I thought the play was successful." "It was. Well, I think it is. Honey, please, sex first, talk after," Malcolm pleaded. Dusty smiled, his dimples showing. Malcolm's heart fluttered. The man really was beautiful inside and outside. "Okay, I'm too horny to argue," Dusty said with a laugh. He kissed Malcolm again before scooting over to get the lube out of the nightstand.

Malcolm flipped over on to his stomach, raising his ass in preparation. He wiggled it a little, earning him another chuckle. He grinned and buried his face in the quilt. Dusty slapped one cheek with his palm and then squeezed out lube. "Shouldn't we be all romantic and kiss each other all over first?" Malcolm nodded. "Probably. That comes next. I haven't had your cock inside me for three months." He wiggled his ass again. Dusty groaned and slipped two slicked fingers inside Malcolm's hole, liberally moving them in and out. Malcolm whimpered when the probing fingers touched his prostate. "God, please, now, babe, I can't last." Malcolm moved his hips, rubbing his hard prick against the quilt, the friction driving him crazy. "Damn, you're going to make me crazy." Dusty positioned himself so that he could easily push inside Malcolm. Malcolm turned his head enough to see Dusty, with his hand around his cock, guide himself in. He closed his eyes and pushed back against his lover to fill his ass entirely with Dusty's cock. Dusty pumped slow and sure, going deeper with every thrust. Every time he pushed forward, Malcolm's dick rubbed the quilt. His fingers dug in, twisting in the sheets. Three months without being with Dustin. Three months without holding him, seeing him had been torture. He really didn't know how others, who were separated longer from their loved ones, did it. His release was close, hell it had been building up for months. Happiness bubbled up inside him and he couldn't hold back a laugh. "What's funny?" Dusty asked, his voice low and husky. "Just how much I love you," he whispered. "Um, love you, too. I'm close, babe." He sighed, contentment washing over him. He slipped his hand underneath him and grasped his erection, sliding his fingers down to roll his balls. Dusty's thrusts had sped up, the sound of him ramming loud in the room. He stiffened and cried out as he poured out inside Malcolm's ass. "God!" Malcolm's release followed as he shot out on the quilt. Dusty collapsed on top of him and held him for a few moments without moving. Eventually, Malcolm nudged him when he got too heavy, and he moved to lay on the bed, holding Malcolm close. Dusty yawned and rose a little to look down at Malcolm. "Want to tell me what happened? I'm so fucking happy I can't even tell you, but...talk to me, babe." Malcolm cupped his cheek. "I couldn't take missing you anymore. The truth is, I hated it there. I tried to pretend I didn't for the longest time but it just ate at me. I even got mugged one night." "What? You didn't tell me?" "I didn't want to worry you." "Damn it, Malcolm, don't keep stuff like that from me." He stroked his lover's cheek. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Dusty ducked his head. "I should have talked to you about the chef job, too. Before I accepted it." "It's okay. I would have wanted you to take it. But that's what finally made up my mind for me. I hated that I wasn't here for you, with you, when you finally got it." "But, Broadway--" Malcolm touched his fingers to Dusty's lips. "Even though I like acting, I discovered something." "What?" "I'm just as happy doing community and local theater. Maybe more happy. I don't need to be nor have I ever wanted to be a star, Dusty. That's not for me. That lifestyle. It's for people like Randy." "If you are sure?" "I'm very sure. I talked to the director and he was totally cool with me leaving. Mine wasn't a big role." Dusty kissed him. "I'm so glad you're back. Especially if that's what you want. I want you to be happy, baby. More than anything, that's what matters to me." "I know. I feel the same way. I think in a way when we first met back in junior high I knew you were the one for me. You've been my best friend since then and if we weren't a couple of idiots we would have been lovers sooner." Malcolm rolled Dusty on to his back and he lay across him and framed Dusty's face with his hands. "You're still the one." Dusty smiled. "For me, too. I love you." "Love you, too. Now, let's do that kissing everywhere thing."

Shawn Lane

Shawn Lane believes love and passion know no boundaries. Shawn writes both erotic love stories involving men in historical or contemporary settings and interracial romances between men and women. Shawn is always looking for new stories and new characters to create while holding down life in California. **** Don't miss The Best Gift, by Shawn Lane, available at AmberAllure.com!

Malcolm Rowland's nearly year-old relationship ends just before Christmas when he learns his boyfriend has been cheating on him. Unfortunately, the breakup leaves Malcolm with no place to live and no job. His best friend, Dustin Jones, who has stood by him for years, takes him in and is determined to show Malcolm not only a great Christmas, but that love between the two of them can be the best gift of all...

Amber Quill Press, LLC The Gold Standard in Publishing Quality Books In Both Print And Electronic Formats Erotica Horror Romance Fantasy Mainstream Young Adult Science Fiction Suspense/Thriller Action/Adventure Non-Fiction Paranormal Historical Western Mystery GLBT

Buy Direct And Save http://www.AmberQuill.com http://www.AmberHeat.com http://www.AmberAllure.com