Here
Eventually the door swung open. Justin filled the doorway, huge in his sweats and tank top, hairy arms glistening like glazed tattooed hams. He grinned, apparently pleased that Emmett’s photo matched the reality. Invited him in with a yank of his head.
The apartment was more updated on the inside—new laminate floors, dark wood cabinetry, fresh white walls covered in framed movie posters.Scarface, The Godfather, Scorsese.
Justin retreated into the living room—black leather couch, giant TV on a high-gloss entertainment center. The back of his tank was dark with sweat. He’d just come back from the gym. Hadn’t even showered, judging by the stink of him. The Obexity heightened Emmett’s sense of smell. He didn’t mind; a little salt would bring out the flavor of the meat.
Justin crossed to a cart of nice bottles and a cut-glass decanter, matching glasses. “Want a drink?”
“Malibu. Neat.”
Justin grimaced, shook his head in disgust.
He poured himself a bourbon and thrust Emmett’s drink at him. The glass was quality, thick and weighty in his hand.
Emmett drank, staring into Justin’s charcoal-gray eyes. The rum went down sweet and smooth as candy.
“Nice place. You live alone?”
“I’m too fucking old for roommates.”
One less to thing to worry about.
Emmett noticedDonnie Darkoplaying on the TV, and his expression must have changed. “Jake Gyllenhaal gets me hard,” Justin said.
No he doesn’t, Emmett thought Hungrily. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.
He drained the glass, stepped forward, and, abandoning all thought of etiquette, smashed his face against Justin’s. The man’s breath was an assault on the senses. Emmett devoured him.
“Fuck!” Justin jerked back with a little shove, touching his bleeding lip. “You bit me.”
“Sorry,” Emmett said with a breath of laughter. “Can I have another drink?”
Justin sneered. “Better go easy on that sweet stuff. Don’t want to blow up again.”
It was like a hand had closed over Emmett’s stomach and twisted. “What?”
Justin snorted; he was enjoying this. “You thought I wouldn’t recognize you just because you dropped a few pounds? Okay, maybe ‘few’ is an understatement. You were fucking huge. Seriously, how much did you eat?”
A tremor of violence started in Emmett’s arm. But Justin seemed oblivious, half expecting Emmett to laugh along with him. Did he think the weight loss had changed Emmett into a different person? Did he think that because he’d lost a hundred pounds, Emmett would be okay with this open display of disgust for his fat body and the mindless gluttony Justin was so quick to project onto it?
But then, hadn’t Emmett made the same mistake? Thought of his fat self as a different self, a lesser self, a self that one day he’d leave behind forever?
At once, the murderous impulse fled his body. “I have to go.” He tried to hand Justin the glass back, but he refused to take it.
“Oh, don’t be so fucking butt-hurt. Probably couldn’t get it up for your fat ass anyway.”
Emmett’s fist whitened on the glass, muscles flexing around the cords of his neck. His Hunger writhed and gnashed its teeth.
Justin was too stupid to fear him; from the rising flush of his cheeks and the shape snaking down the leg of his sweats, the combination of cruelty and rejection had fired him up. Emmett looked down as Justin tugged roughly at his belt. His stomach throbbed with need.
On his knees, Justin pulled Emmett’s shorts down, took him into his mouth.
He grew irritated, maybe insecure, when Emmett’s dick refused to harden. After a minute he wrenched his head back. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry,” Emmett sneered. “I thought I could make this work.”
He swung his hand. The glass connected with a hollow thunk against Justin’s temple. Justin fell sideways, then stirred with a low guttural moan as Emmett yanked his shorts back up.
