Calder turned him around, capturing his lips once more. “I haven’t even started teasing you, sweetness. But I’ll give you what you need.”
Robby almost cried when Calder wrapped his slick fist around Robby’s cock, his eyes sliding closed and his hands gripping Calder’s biceps. “Oh, God.”
“Open your eyes, angel. Look at me.” Robby forced himself to comply. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. I wanna watch you come.”
That was all it took, Robby cried out in surprise as waves of pleasure rolled along his body, his knees all but giving out on him. Calder’s arm kept him upright, his hand pumping Robby’s spent cock until there was nothing left. He clung to Calder long after his hand disappeared, feeling embarrassed by this sudden need to hold onto something.
To his credit, Calder didn’t seem in a hurry to release him, they just stood there, testing the limits of Robby’s hot water tank, his forehead resting on Calder’s shoulder and his arms around him. The older man was probably regretting ever offering to give Robby a ride home. He glanced down, looking at Calder’s still hard cock. Robby’s hand was moving before he could talk himself out of it, wrapping around Calder, marveling at the velvet feel of his skin.
Calder moaned, and Robby’s heart did somersaults. He did that. He did it again, experimenting. He had no other frame of reference, so he did what he liked, twisting as he stroked, letting his thumb tease over the head before sliding back down. Calder leaned his shoulders back against the shower wall. “Fuck, that’s it, angel. Keep going.”
Robby did. He jerked Calder, studying his face, watching how every stroke, every squeeze affected him until he was only doing the things that pulled low moans and deep groans from him. This was the real drug, this heady power of making somebody fall apart. He understood why Calder had wanted to watch Robby’s face, had needed to see the fruits of his labor. Robby wanted to make Calder orgasm almost more than he’d wanted to come himself. By the time Calder was panting, fists clenched, eyes closed, Robby was half hard again just from watching.
“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come.” He was thrusting himself up into Robby’s fist now, doing most of the work himself. Then he was giving a rough shout, his body going rigid.
Robby didn’t know where to look. He was addicted to the shocky look of ecstasy on Calder’s face, but he also liked watching Calder’s cock erupt, his seed coating Robby’s fingers before washing away under the water. Calder took the choice away from him, pushing his hand away and spinning him until he was the one pressed against the wall, Calder’s mouth on his, tongue sliding over Robby’s. He could only hang on as Calder pressed words against his lips. “Fuck, you did so well. God, you’re fucking perfect. So fucking perfect.”
Calder was in over his head. After their shower, he’d dried the boy off and put him to bed. Now, he lay beside him, watching him sleep. Robby was a walking contradiction. He was a famous Hollywood actor. Maybe not household name famous but certainly recognizable on the street, yet it was clear the moment Calder kissed him that Charlie had vastly underestimated exactly how virginal Robby was. He kissed with abandon, touched Calder like he was a work of art, and came apart in the sweetest way imaginable. It stirred something in Calder, something deep inside that he’d worked hard to wall off years ago.
Fuck. Linc was right. Calder was a fucking liability. He’d been so determined to have Robby, to test this strange pull he’d felt toward the boy, that he’d completely ignored every red flag. He could have ended it with a kiss when he realized how little experience Robby had. He could have walked away. He should have just walked away. Virgins came with feelings and responsibilities. All the things Calder avoided like the plague. But Robby had just stared up at him with those innocent eyes, frustration leaching into his voice as he’d tried to ask for what he’d wanted. Calder wasn’t strong enough to resist a temptation like that. He didn’t understand how any man could.
It was hard to imagine how somebody like this boy had gone unnoticed, but he’d clearly been neglected. Daddy issues. That’s what the boy’s tattoo said. He believed it. Robby had been running amuck since Elijah had ‘cheated’ on him with Shepherd. It was clear their fake relationship had been plenty real to Robby, no matter how mismatched the two had been. Now, he took his pain out on himself, drinking, partying, turning his body into a roadmap of piercings and poorly thought out tattoos.
Calder liked the boy’s piercings, liked the way he gasped when he played with his nipples, and liked the odd little piercing that sat just inside the boy’s upper lip, resting against his two front teeth. He wanted to play with him, was hard as steel imagining coaxing the boy’s body to let him inside. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody had captured his attention the way Robby did. Calder was content just to watch the boy sleep, liked knowing he was safe at home and not out being abused or accosted by police officers or worse…strippers.
Except, this wasn’t Calder’s home and Robby wasn’t his to watch. He was just some kid he’d crossed paths with whose big hazel eyes and infectious smile had gotten under Calder’s skin. Maybe it was that Robby never smiled anymore. Before Elijah, there wasn’t a single photo of Robby where he wasn’t flashing his gorgeous smile and perfect teeth. Now, Robby always looked guarded or angry or too drunk to stand.
Calder rolled off the bed and dressed, taking Casanova’s food from the fridge and placing it on the floor in his bowl, so the dog would let the boy sleep for a little while at least. He had to get out of there. Every minute he stayed, he just wanted to stay longer. That wasn’t going to work. Still, he felt like a dick just sneaking out, so he snagged a paper towel and a sharpie.
Had to go. Didn’t want to wake you.
Call if you ever need me.
XO Calder
He scrawled his number along the bottom, then stared at the XO. Why had he done that? This kid was a Jedi, playing mind games with Calder. He slipped back into the boy’s darkened bedroom and set the note on the side table, hesitating before he dropped a kiss on the boy’s slightly gaping mouth.
Calder replayed their shower on repeat the entire ride home. It shouldn’t have affected him like it had. It was just one fumbling handjob. He’d been with countless men and women who knew tricks that would make porn stars jealous. Hell, he’d even been with an actual porn star once or twice. But the way Robby had gazed up at him, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he’d worked Calder’s cock, laser focused on what Calder liked and what made him moan… It was like the kid was trying for an A plus. He’d earned it. Calder’s orgasm had ripped through his body like lightning, leaving him drained and shaken.
Part of him knew it wasn’t the technique but the boy, but that part of him needed to shut the fuck up. There was no room in his life for somebody like Robby. That boy was so desperate for love that it practically oozed from his pores. He needed somebody who could give him constant praise, constant attention, could wrap him up and be the safety net he clearly needed. That wasn’t Calder. It couldn’t be. Calder couldn’t be that person for him, for anybody. He’d proven that a long time ago.
Once inside his small apartment, he tried to shake off the nagging feeling tugging at his insides. He went to the fridge and cracked a beer before heading into what would be the dining room for most people. He flipped on the lights and set a new canvas on the easel before pulling his hair back up and off his face. He slipped his phone from his pocket to turn on his music but paused when he saw he had a new voicemail. He keyed up his messages and sat on top of the old butcher block table that subbed as his desk.
“Mr. Seton, this is Ginger at Vista Palms Funeral Home. We’ve been trying to reach you for several weeks regarding the remains of—”
Calder hit the button to delete the message and picked up his beer, draining half in one swallow before he pulled up his classic rock playlist and cranked it up as loud as he could. Mrs. Leighton across the hall was deaf as a post and the apartment below him had sat empty for months. His music wouldn’t bother anybody, but maybe it would drive the memories from his head.
He skipped his paints, instead grabbing a charcoal pencil, roughly sketching an outline of a boy with a sharp jawline, wide almond-shaped hazel eyes, and swoopy caramel-colored hair. Maybe he could draw the boy out of his system, pour his need onto the canvas, and then burn it. Even the thought of burning the boy’s face sent a pang through him. This kid was so deep under his skin and they’d only ever interacted twice. It didn’t make any sense. Calder didn’t form attachments. Not to anybody. Not anymore.
After he’d constructed a rough sketch, he switched to his paints, losing himself in the broad strokes and the minute details, anything to keep from thinking about the real boy whose likeness he created or the task he’d been putting off for weeks. He found himself mixing brown and green and gold to try to create Robby’s eyes, layering each one onto the canvas until the boy on the canvas stared back at Calder with the same wide-eyed expression he’d worn just before they’d showered together. That look was like a punch to the gut, and Calder immediately wanted to cover it up.
It was early morning before Calder considered the painting done. If he’d hoped to excise Robby from his brain, the project was an epic failure. He cleaned up the space and washed his hands in the sink before throwing a microwave burrito in to cook. Linc needed to find a job for him soon or he was going to go crazy. He couldn’t stay cooped up in this apartment, but he had no interest in going out since Carley had called with the news.
He ate his burrito in front of the television, staring at the blackened screen as if it might contain the answers he sought. He needed to do it. He needed to go pick up her ashes and do…something…with them. He didn’t know what. He’d hardly known her, not really. He hadn’t known her as a person. Would she want her ashes scattered along the ocean waves? Would she want to be sprinkled in a forest somewhere? Hell, maybe she wanted to be a tree? He didn’t know and the not knowing was what left him paralyzed, unable to pick up the phone, refusing to return their calls. If he just ignored them, maybe they’d go away. What did it matter in the long run? In the end, she was just a pile of dust in a cardboard box.
He finished off his burrito and his third beer and got ready for bed, hoping that the food and alcohol would be just enough to make him sleep. It wasn’t. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Robby had woken up hours ago and found Calder had crept out like a jerk or if he was still sleeping soundly after his rough night and mutual orgasms.
Calder slid his hand into his black cotton pants, his fist gripping his cock as he thought about Robby and their brief time together. The whimper he’d made when Calder kissed him. How he’d gripped Calder’s shirt when he slid his thumbs over his hips. He was so fucking gorgeous. Everything about him was bright and vibrant. He just radiated this energy, even after everything he’d been through, and Calder wanted to bathe in it, wanted to see Robby discovering what he liked and what he didn’t, wanted to feel him coming apart beneath him, wanted to be the one who worked him open and showed his body how to yield to Calder’s invasion. He’d never been anybody’s first anything, but the idea of being Robby’s first had him coming hard, a hoarse shout penetrating the silence of his room.
