Duncan pointed a finger at him, his anger mounting too after the initial shock. “Watch your mouth.”
“I can’t believe this… you! Of all things! And you… you told him about us? About the fucking cake?”
Duncan glanced around and dragged him away, farther from the crowd. “Shut the fuck up! What I do with my life is none of your fucking business. Not after throwing my ass out!”
“And just where do you think this will lead? I know the young man, we all do. Hell, I took that photo of him he has in his fucking room!” Laughing at Duncan’s eyes going wide. “Oh yes…we all know him… a drunk, drugged up to his eyeballs, if and when he can walk straight, fucking everybody who moves… good fucking luck with him. I’m just mad because you deserve so much better…”
“Oh… now comes the patronising ‘deserve better’ talk. Well, fuck off. That’s all I have to say to you. And I do hope you could never scrape that cake off your wall, you low-life fuck!”
Trent’s eyes softened. “I wish you would understand…”
“I don’t. I fucking don’t…” Blowing a breath, he looked towards the lights. “I have to go. I’m working here.” He raised his hand at Trent’s lips parting. “No, the fuck no. Not a word. I hope we don’t meet again.”
“Be careful, Duncan, please…”
“Fuck you!”
He flipped him off, walking away, rushing inside to find Spencer, but he was surrounded by a small crowd of admirers, holding drinks, and chatting, so Duncan just stood near the wall with some other bodyguards.
Spencer still caught his eyes with a small wink. Drinking a bit that misery plain in Duncan’s eyes. A small idea in the back of his mind, he smiled and turned back to the people around him.
They left much later, Spencer clearly drunk, but he could walk to the car, clinging to Duncan’s arm.
Driving back, but Spencer made him stop the car before they got to the mansion.
“I have to throw up…”
Duncan hurried to open the door and caught him as he leant outside, but Spencer didn’t throw up. On the side of that darkroad, he clung to Duncan’s neck, pressing his lips against his lips.
Whisper soft. “Fuck me…”
Duncan held his hips softly as he pushed him away. “No. You’re drunk…”
“So? I was stoned last time… it didn’t bother you then…” Leaning in for another kiss, but Duncan pulled back.
“Stop this. Even stoned, you knew where you were and what you wanted?” A small anxiety there, searching those dark, treacherous eyes. “But not now… drunk out of your mind.”
“Your ex filled your head?”
“No…” It was weak. He was weak, with that warm, lean body pressed against him, his arms around his neck, his perfume laced with his scent and sweat, his hair… “Fuck… you’re fucking poison, you know that?”
Spencer grinned and pulled closer even. “Yes, I know…”
“Fucking poison…” Opening wide as their mouths met, their tongues dancing, with that mad wrath of not being able to hold back, of not being able to think straight, at all. Still, Duncan broke the kiss when Spencer’s hands glided down to his ass. “But… I won’t fuck you… not now… not drunk…”
Spencer’s dark eyes filled with anger. “Oh, I see. Good enough stoned, not good enough drunk? You have some principles.”
Duncan couldn’t speak, because maybe he was right.
Spencer smirked and pushed himself out of his arms, swaying. “Then… drive back, mister Principle…” He fell back on the back seat, and managed to drag his legs in.
Duncan closed the door with a sigh, sitting in. He glanced back as he started the car, but Spencer was passed out, or so it seemed, so he drove off, cursing softly, his taste still in his mouth, on his tongue, sweet, the feel of his lips pulsing on his lips.Shit.Fuck.
Chapter 10
Next day, Spencer didn’t call him at all, and Duncan spent the day working out in their gym, and then in some meetings with Martin and the others. Wondering if Spencer would call him to go out, but evening came, the sun setting and his phone stayed stubbornly dark. Sitting on the sofa, he watched that dark screen, musing a bit that none of his friends had called… friends… he wasn’t even sure anymore if they had been, mainly gravitating around Trent…Fucking Trent… this is fucked up.Raking his hair back, he rubbed his palms down his face, being alone in that semi-dark not a great idea, as it always conjured his demons. He shifted a bit, to ease the pressure on his scars. Fuck… Maybe eat something…He stood and flicked on the kitchen lights, opening the fridge.Leftover pasta… perfect.
Turning to that timid knock on the door.Shit. Surely not…His heart had started rushing though. He walked there and opened, cautious, ready to push him back, but Spencer just stood there, at ease, wearing his silk outfit, the red one.
