“Good to see you again, Justin,” Landon said, shifting his attention to Gregory’s right. The fact that Landon’s voice had inflection and enthusiasm in it as he spoke to Justin was another pain in his chest, but he grimaced and forced it away.
Justin laughed. “I didn’t think you knew who I was.”
“I keep track of my regular customers.” Landon slipped under the pass at the end of the bar and gestured for the two men to follow him. Gregory remained locked in place, but he glanced down the bar when he felt eyes on him and found Verity’s sparkling stare had turned hard, and it was directed at him.
They stared at each other before Verity inclined their head toward where Landon and Justin were waiting. Gregory followed, then mentally chastised himself—one, for taking orders, and two, for even caring about what Landon Miller was doing in Los Angeles again.
Gregory trailed Justin and Landon up the stairs, the two men laughing jovially, even though Gregory noticed Landon respectfully trailing a half step behind. Gregory observed Landon’s mannerisms and the way he engaged with Justin. It became apparent that even though Landon was a business owner, he respected protocol and recognized that Justin, although not his Dom, was a Dom nonetheless.
Landon led them into a space in the upstairs loft then flicked a light switch. It was a small space that would easily hold the dozen or so people Justin and Micah had invited. The black walls were draped with white fabric, giving the space a very intimate feel. There was a cluster of couches and overstuffed armchairs that didn’t match, but somehow went together, in front of a raised stage.
“Micah is going to love this.” Justin’s voice in his ear was a welcome reprieve to the walk down memory lane his brain was trying to take him on.
“He is,” Gregory agreed, glancing down at his watch. “He should be here soon.”
“How will the people we invited know to come up?” Justin asked Landon.
“The bouncer will point them this way. Everything is all set.” Landon fluffed a pillow on one of the chairs. The muscles of his back twitched and flexed as he worked his way through every already fluffy throw pillow in the space. The black leather of the harness he wore crisscrossed over his tanned skin and Gregory fought the urge to grab it and tug Landon somewhere more private. Somewhere they could…
He didn’t know what. Somewhere they could talk? Fuck? Yell? His brain was running rapid-fire through the four years he and Landon had been together, focusing way more than he’d have liked on the day Landon abandoned him for New York. His cock fought against his brain, choosing to solely think about how gorgeous Landon had looked as a teenager when he offered himself to Gregory on his small, childhood twin bed.
“Can we…” Gregory asked, trailing off, still unsure which option was the right one.
Landon looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time that night. His eyes moved from Gregory’s hair to his face, down the lines of his shoulders to his forearms, his waist, his thighs, down to his boots. Landon closed his eyes and placed his hand on his stomach where Verity had touched him earlier. Then he shook his head.
“Everything is good, then?” Landon asked, opening his eyes and looking at Justin, ignoring Gregory entirely.
“It’s great. Thanks so much for letting us do this here.” Justin nodded and smiled.
“That’s what Rapture is here for.” Landon smiled at him. “I need to run downstairs, but I’ll be back to make sure everything goes okay, unless you wanted privacy.”
“You’re more than welcome to be here,” Justin confirmed.
“Okay, I’ll be back then.” Landon turned and headed back to the stairs.
“Landon,” Gregory called after him, pivoting on his heel.
Landon shook his head and kept going, not turning back.
Gregory caught up to him on the stairs. He didn’t know what he needed, but he needed something from Landon, something more than this. He hedged his bets and dropped his voice to a tone he knew Landon would remember.
“Landon, stop.”
Landon took one more step, then faltered, before coming to a standstill on the bottom stair.
4
Landon
Greg’sheavy boots thudded down the stairs that Landon had managed to put between them before coming to a stop two from the ground. Greg wasn’t touching him, but Landon could smell his leathers and feel the hot puffs of Greg’s breaths falling against his shoulder.
They stood there, not speaking, not moving, for what seemed an eternity. Hadn’t the fifteen years they’d been apart been an entire lifetime on its own? What was another excruciating few minutes between ex-lovers?
“Landon.” Greg’s voice had deepened since high school, but that made sense. They’d both changed since they were teenagers. Landon looked down at his stomach and groaned when he deliberately sucked his gut in.
“I need to go make sure everything is ready at the bar,” Landon said, and he hated how much it sounded like a plea for escape. He would gladly go clean the toilets with a toothbrush in hand and an electro-plug in his ass if it would get him off these stairs and away from Greg, though.
It felt like Greg’s fingertips ghosted over the skin above his waistband, but he couldn’t be sure and he didn’t want to look.
