“No shit.”
“You know, if you’re doing uppers, it’s probably making that shit worse.”
“But without them I can’t work,” Carver said into his knees.
Scott exhaled. “I might need another drink.”
That wasn’t what he needed and Carver knew it. He stretched his left hand out, reaching for Scott, his heart speeding up. He felt the do-or-die madness that always carried him along in moments like this, when his constant terror of fucking things up suddenly gave way to a pure resolve. If it had to be done and no one else was willing or able to do it, then he could do it, he would immediately begin to do it as if God were working through him.
God placed Carver’s hand on Scott’s warm thigh. The muscle tensed under his palm.
“Carver,” Scott said, his voice soft again.
Carver lifted his head and looked at him. He didn’t see rejection in his face, but instead a moral hesitancy.
“What?” he said.
“I don’t know if we should do this.”
Carver unraveled his body from its tense ball and moved toward Scott, facing him, leaning into him. He placed his right hand on Scott’s thigh this time, higher up, and Scott inhaled.
“Maybe we should talk more,” Scott said.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”
“I will regret it,” Carver said, “but if I don’t do it I’d regret that too.”
Scott met his eyes. His were soft and dark and beginning to unfocus. He said nothing but stretched a pinky out to touch Carver’s wedding ring where it rested against his thigh.
Carver’s heart palpitated. “Don’t worry about that,” he said.
“It means something.”
“I know it does, it means an agreement. Lillian and I just have a certain kind of agreement.”
“An agreement that you can fuck guys?”
“More or less.”
Scott put his hand atop Carver’s, covering his ring, and squeezed him lightly. Carver’s dick twitched.
“Everything you’re saying is killing me,” Scott said. “I never wanted you to clip your own wings.”
“I didn’t,” Carver murmured, getting closer to him. He smelled like soap and the lemon oil he used on his guitar frets, mingled with his sweat and a lingering bitter note of burnt transmission fluid. “I’m free. Right now, I’m free. I’m doing what I want to.”
“In secret, in the dark…”
Carver nuzzled his throat, then tilted his head so Scott’s short beard scraped across his own five o’clock shadow. “Last time you fucked me I screamed. Maybe this time I’ll scream so loud I wake everyone up.”
Scott’s whole body stiffened, and he grabbed Carver by the upper bicep. Carver slid his hand up to Scott’s crotch and undid his fly, his mouth filling with saliva as he did. He stroked Scott’s dick through his boxers and found he was already almost rock hard.
“Oh, you still like me?” Carver teased him, his own dick twitching again. He felt his rational mind sailing away from him, and waved it goodbye.
Scott’s breath hitched. His eyes were closed. “I forgot you were like this.”
“Like what?”
