Taking the Dare
Lee Brazil
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Taking the Dare
Copyright© 2012 Lee Brazil
Published by Breathless Press at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-77101-044-3
Cover Artist: Victoria Miller
Editor: Olivia Ventura
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Dedication
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
—Pericles
Taking the Dare is dedicated to my family—for your support, encouragement, and love. And to all the other nontraditional families out there, making things work for one another because you understand that at the core of every family, there’s this little thing called love, and it doesn’t depend on your gender or your genetics, it depends on your heart and your willingness to risk it on what is essentially a game of chance.
Prologue
Griff’s place was different. The scent of the place was different. The look, the feel, the whole atmosphere eased a tension Danny normally held deep inside. Here, he wasn’t a Blake. Here, he was Danny, the wannabe writer who had yet to finish his first book. Danny existed in this environment solely as the owner’s best friend since kindergarten. No one here knew about the screenplays and scripts, the studio, his brothers. No one knew about the mansion in the hills and the private schools, the privileged life that he’d never felt quite at home with.
Danny leaned back against the bar, accepted another lemon drop martini from Griff, and did what he did best. He observed the patrons. He absorbed people’s actions, their movements, their mannerisms, snippets of conversations, and the way they interacted. These people were real. They lived real lives, interacted with one another in real ways. Not like the lives he and Griff hid from, the fake smiles, the superficial chat, the quid pro quo of local society.
They fascinated him, these people with their real lives, real worries, and real emotions.
He loved them. Loved coming here on Friday afternoon, hearing the cheerful greetings the regulars called out, searching the darkness for the newcomers, making up stories about what brought them here.
Sometimes he found someone he enjoyed or someone who appealed to his sexual side, and they’d sneak into Griff’s office for a quickie. Sometimes he and Griff even hooked up. Not so much of that lately. Most of the time, like tonight, he just leaned back on the bar and watched people.
A low wolf whistle from Griff distracted him. He tilted his head back to meet the bartender’s eyes. Griff nodded toward the door. Danny let his gaze travel in that direction, not really interested, but curious about what had stirred Griff. As he took in the newcomer, the flicker of interest grew to a flame.
Danny had never noticed the guy here before, but he could have been a regular. He wore confidence like a comfortably faded pair of Levis, and Danny took notice right away. Tall, broad-shouldered, the newcomer had shoulder-length, wavy, dark hair that could have been black or brown. His skin glowed creamy and clean-shaven in the dim interior. It was impossible to discern the exact color of his gleaming eyes. The good looks didn’t make Danny’s dick sit up and take notice. No. It was the confidence, the casual stride that said, “I’m fucking hot.” The man’s cocky stride and arrogant posture exuded sex. Yeah.
In another place, as another man, Dan would have blown the guy off. Cocky didn’t interest Dan Blake. Dan Blake lived cocky. Dan Blake could have this guy, if he wanted him.
But Danny...Danny was a second son. His mother favored his older brother, his father favored his younger brother, and Danny lurked somewhere in the middle, waiting for his parents to notice him. If Danny wanted this guy, it would take some work.
Danny turned his gaze back to the interior of the bar, focusing on a couple of regulars in the corner. Ted and Jake. He knew them and their story. They intrigued him, but right now watching them make out provided a much-needed distraction from the hottie in the doorway. They didn’t even have half his attention. Everything in him but his gaze was focused on that man progressing across the floor, nodding and smiling at people as he approached the bar.
Danny still couldn’t tell if the man was a regular in on an off day or a very charming, very friendly newcomer who spoke to everyone who made eye contact. By the time the guy made his way over to lean against the bar and talk to Griff, though...he decided that he wanted him. Enough to make a move that Danny normally wouldn’t have.
“Put it on my tab, Griff.” He twisted his body around to prop his elbow on the bar and lean his head on his hand, and smiled up at the newcomer. “Hi. I’m Danny.” This close he could tell the striking eyes were blue, the hair black, the smile sexier than he’d expected. Its impact hit deep in his gut, and his own smile faded.
“Morgan. Thanks for the beer. You come here often?”
Danny accepted the man’s hand, held it a little too long, let his thumb trace the throbbing pulse before he released it. Noted the gold band on his third finger the man made no attempt to hide.
“Every Friday. You?” He caught Griff’s headshake out the corner of his eye. Morgan hadn’t been here before.
“First time.” Some deeper meaning imbued the words. Maybe.
Dan narrowed his eyes. His heart beat hard and fast. He liked that idea very much. Danny was used to second place. Being first appealed to him. “First time in a gay bar?”
Morgan smiled again, licked his lips. Danny let his eyes follow the movement of the pink tongue, deliberately traced the same path across his own bottom lip. Morgan sipped his beer, kept staring intently into Dan’s eyes. “Yes. First time.”
At the unmistakable emphasis, Danny’s interest flared anew. “It’s no different than a straight place. You see something you like, you make your interest known. If you don’t get your face slapped, you’re doing okay.”
Morgan set his beer on the table, ran an elegant hand through his hair. “You planning to slap my face, Danny?”
Dan laughed. He couldn’t hold it in. “For what? Venturing in here?”
Morgan’s hair brushed his shoulders as he shook his head slowly. “No,” he whispered. “For this.” He leaned forward slightly, wrapped a hand around Danny’s neck and one around his waist, and tugged him tight and close. Danny had time to register the heat and hardness of the man’s cock grinding into his own for just a second before his mouth dropped down the few centimeters necessary to press their lips together.
Where Danny had intended to be the aggressor, he found himself melting into the role of acceptance. Morgan’s tongue invaded his mouth, seeking, taking, and Danny absorbed it all, the sensations, the rising anticipation. He rubbed his aching erection against the bulge in Morgan’s jeans, opened his mouth wider, and let the heat of Morgan seep into his body.
First time kissing a man, maybe—but Morgan clearly was skilled at pleasing a partner. Griff’s tap on his shoulder and a few whistles from the onlookers dragged Danny back from the depths.
“Where’s your wife tonight?” Danny aimed for distance, for safety. He was on the precipice of something, not sure he wanted to make the leap.
“Out with her boyfriend.” Morgan traced a finger over his wedding band, met Danny’s eyes squarely. “She doesn’t care what I do, or who I do it with. You taste like lemon candy.” A little sadness colored the bold statement, as though the situation didn’t entirely please Morgan, but he accepted it anyway.
That melancholy touched Danny, even though he didn’t want it to. This was Friday night, his time out from reality for rejuvenating. He shrugged his unease away. If the man’s wife didn’t care, too bad for her. Such things weren’t unheard of in Hollywood.
“Um...office?” he offered, shaking off his introspection and deciding to let impulse guide him. No one had ever stirred him quite the way this man did, and he intrigued the writer in Danny. Right, like you’re only doing this to take notes for some nonexistent novel.
Morgan’s gaze burned into him. Danny swore he could feel its heat in his soul. For me, not Dan Blake.
“Lead the way.” Morgan’s husky voice sent a shiver through Danny. He pried the man’s hand from his hip and reluctantly stepped back, letting air between them.
The regulars lost interest as Danny led Morgan away down the narrow corridor to the tiny office. The click of the door swinging shut cut off the murmurs of the crowd, and Danny swallowed as he got his first good glance at Morgan. The man was freaking gorgeous. Danny wasn’t small by any means, but Morgan stood just the tiniest bit taller, broader. He had movie-star good looks and boy-next-door charm all at once.
Dan leaned back against the door with a grateful sigh. He palmed his cock in his jeans, massaging it gently. “How much of that shit was just a line, and how much is true?”
Morgan laughed. The low sound vibrated along Danny’s nerves, and he swore his heart skipped a beat in its surge. Danny flicked open a button at the top of his fly. He licked his lips.
“None of it was a line. This is my first time.”
Flicking open another button, Danny eyed the man intently. “You don’t kiss like it’s your first time.”
Morgan stepped closer, his gaze following the movements of Danny’s hand as he flicked open the third and then the fourth buttons. “I’ve kissed before. Even kissed a man once. I like kissing.”
“Yeah? We’ll have to make sure that you get more chances to indulge then.” Danny slid his jeans down just a fraction, and eased his cock from their confines. He loved the gleam in those blue eyes as Morgan’s gaze caressed him.
“You want more kisses?” Morgan stood close now, in touching distance. Though he spoke of kissing, his gaze locked on Danny’s hand, the hand he glided from tip to base of his aching cock. The sensual friction sent sparks of pleasure to his tightening balls. Morgan’s tongue slid over his lips again, and Danny groaned. He wanted kisses. Wanted that tongue.
“Have you ever sucked cock?” he asked bluntly.
“No.”
But he wanted to. Danny could tell. Morgan’s cheeks flushed a deep rose, his lips parted, and damned if he didn’t keep running his tongue over them, keeping them moist and gleaming. Morgan shuddered slightly, and then closed the remaining distance between them, leaning into Danny, crushing him harder against the door. His mouth slid over Danny’s cheek, found his parted lips, and the world around them faded into haze again as he teased and nibbled, licked, and sucked at Danny’s lips with his own. Danny wrapped one hand around the man’s neck, tangled the fingers of the other in his hair, and let the kiss seduce him.
He used his leverage to shove the other man down, not that he could have managed it if Morgan resisted. Staring into the blazing blue eyes, he licked Morgan’s taste off his lips and whispered, “No teeth.”
Morgan snorted. “Danny, dude. I may not have done this before—but I have experienced it. I know what feels good.”
And fuck if that wasn’t the truth. Hot mouth closing around him, sliding down and up, a firm hard grasp squeezing and stroking. Danny’s head hit the door with a solid thud as his eyelids drifted down and clenched his fingers in Morgan’s hair.
Morgan’s tongue traced a fiery path over his cock, licking around the head, toying with the slit, flattening in a broad stroke against him. Danny’s balls tightened, drew up close to his body. His thighs trembled, and he expelled a harsh breath, considered issuing a warning, but the echo of those cocky words kept him silent. He bit into his bottom lip, slammed his head back again, and thrust forward.
Morgan stilled, and then swallowed. His tight throat massaged the tip of Danny’s cock, and he groaned. Morgan choked a little as Danny flooded his mouth with cum. He might have protested, but Danny swam in a sea of sensation, too adrift to care.
Slowly he pried his eyes open and consciously unclenched his hands from the smooth black hair. Morgan stared up at him with sparkling eyes, licking his lips.
“You might have warned me.” The teasing smile on his lips reassured Danny that it wasn’t a complaint.
“You said you understood how it worked, dude,” he mocked gently. “Get up here. Maybe I can return the favor.”
Morgan rose gracefully to his feet, allowed Danny to kiss him again. “That’s not really necessary.”
Danny frowned. “Really? You don’t want to come?” What the fuck was up with this guy?
“I’m good,” Morgan mumbled again, the flush deepening across his cheeks. For the first time since Danny set eyes on him, he appeared uncomfortable. “But there is something...”
“Want me to buy you another beer?” Danny offered, tucking himself back away in his jeans, fastening the buttons. The taste did take some getting used to, he supposed. Sympathetic remorse filled him. He should have ignored the cocky attitude and been considerate.
“Yeah. Maybe that would help.”
Back at the scarred wood bar Griff placed two cold bottles in front of them and smirked knowingly at Morgan’s flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Danny scowled at him and Griff shrugged, ambling back down the length of the bar, giving it a sporadic swipe with a cloth as he did.
“So, what’s this about, Morgan?” The frosted neck of the bottle in his hand wasn’t as cold as the chill that seeped through his body. Clearly this wasn’t about getting laid. Not for Morgan, anyway.
“I want a chance to try out for Summer Affair.” Flat, bald truth. The chill deepened, and inside somewhere, some warming Dan hadn’t realized he’d experienced froze over.
“If you know who I am, then you know that I don’t audition. I only hire scriptwriters.”
“But you can get me in the door. You can introduce me to the casting director.” The bravado and confidence resonated in Morgan’s voice again.
Dan stiffened, shoved himself upright. “You put an awful lot of value on one blow job from a novice.” Something hard and angry inside made him continue. “Tell you what. You stop by my office some time, and I’ll give you a second shot at convincing me you’re worth it.”
Fucking asshole completely destroyed his Friday afternoon sanctuary. Dan Blake cast a speaking glance at Griff, who raised both brows, heading toward them. “Morgan here needs help finding the exit, Griff.”
His partner in the bar nodded and stared pointedly at Morgan, who snapped his mouth shut and stood stiffly, staring from one to the other before shrugging and leaving.
“How did he know?” Griff asked, sympathy shining in his brown eyes.
Dan shrugged. “Guess I won’t come around for a while. Make sure he hasn’t shared the story.”
Chapter One
Dan Blake leaned inelegantly against the open sliding glass door of the hotel room balcony. He pretended absorption in the view and the joint he lazily rolled, but in reality all his attention focused on the man in the bed behind him. Every breath Morgan took, every rustle of the sheets eased the tension he’d carried around for the last three months.
Why? Morgan was comfortable, familiar, and they’d hooked up like this for over three years now. At some point in the last six months though, Morgan had become more to Dan than a casual lay. The emptiness of Dan’s life while Morgan traveled in Europe for the past three months shooting a film had hammered that point home.
He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in, allowing calm to descend over him. The smoke he exhaled out onto the balcony dissipated in the early evening breeze. He glanced back to where Morgan lay stretched out across the snowy-white sheets in all his golden Hollywood glory, acres of skin and solid muscles. Familiar and enticing, and despite the soothing effects of the smoke, Dan wanted him again. From the first time the slightly intimidated actor had strolled through his office door after that night at the bar, Dan had wanted him.
But not like this. Before, anger and greedy self-indulgence tinged his want. He’d wanted Morgan as much to show the other man he couldn’t be used without his consent as for any other reason. Today, even with the urgent need for release after three months of going without, he’d moved slowly. Savored instead of rushed, worshipped, made love instead of fucked. And it pissed him off.
For the last six months, his life had been a shell game. He attended the parties, laughed and flirted, caught the camera’s eye with starlets of every description. Hell, he’d even taken some of them home or out to clubs and premiers. But that was all. As far as it went. He hadn’t actually wanted any of them. For six months, he’d had sex with no one but Morgan. It had been even longer than that since he’d fucked another man. Maybe a year? Maybe longer. Somehow, at some point, his body had decided that Morgan was it.
Dan stubbed the cherry out in the smokeless ashtray he’d brought with him, contemplated spraying the Ozium, but it was all the way across the room in his bag. The ashtray didn’t work one hundred percent, but it disguised the smoke while they were occupying the room. Brooding, he stared at Morgan Hawke in the bed across the room.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Danny.”
The name washed over him like a dash of cold water. Suddenly furious, he stalked across the room, jumped onto the bed, and landed squarely on Morgan’s startled body.
“Don’t fucking call me Danny. I told you.” Ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. No one called him Danny any more. Morgan frowned, opened his mouth, and Dan shut him up by the simple expedience of covering his mouth with his own. He wasn’t angry at Morgan, exactly, much. The thrill, the melting warmth that washed through his heart with that name angered him. Being called Danny reminded him too much of that night in Griff’s office when he’d naively believed that this gorgeous man wanted him, wanted Danny, not Dan Blake.
Morgan’s enthusiastic response to his kiss washed away the anger, and before he realized it their kisses turned soft and languid. He drew back and stared down into Morgan’s deep blue eyes. Did those blue depths hide any trace of what he felt?
“How long do you have?” The words slipped out, and he cursed silently.
“Elyse is out of town until Monday.” Morgan smiled seductively. Dan’s heart rate increased, his breathing roughened. All weekend. He had all weekend to convince Morgan that the mutual back scratching their affair had started out as had evolved.
“How long do you have the room for?”
Dan laughed. “I can have the room as long as I want it. Black American Express is good for a lot of things.”
The flicker of something slightly unpleasant in Morgan’s expression deterred Dan for a moment, but the beautiful smile swiftly reminded him again of that night in the bar. He let himself believe that Morgan wanted this thing between them as much as he did.
For now, there was Morgan and Dan, and he had something of Morgan that even his wife Elyse would never have. Intent on that idea, Dan leaped from the bed and headed for his bag. He grabbed his drop kit and another small leather bag and strode back to the bed. Morgan eyed him curiously.
“What’s that?”
Dan laughed, pitching the sound low and enticing. He’d combined acting classes with writing classes when he’d gotten his degrees, and though ultimately he’d decided on writing instead of acting, he still kept his skills polished. Hell, half the Dan everyone saw on a daily basis was an act put on to help Danny get through the days. “This? This is my drop kit; it has condoms and lube.” He lifted the other bag. “This is my toy bag. It has more fun things.”
Morgan sat up abruptly. “Toys? As in what, Dan? I told you I’m not into anything kinky.”
Dan laughed again. “You weren’t into men three years ago, and look at you now. I call and you drop everything for a roll in the hay.” Okay, that might not have been called for.
Morgan flushed and bit at his lower lip, turned away.
Dan sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just teasing. There’s nothing in here that you would object to, okay?”
Morgan nodded slowly. Dan read his hesitation and cursed his too-ready tongue. He shoved the bag across the bed to Morgan. “Here. You check that out while I call down to the desk and tell them I’m extending my stay until Tuesday. Want me to order room service too?”
Morgan’s gaze snapped from the bag to meet Dan’s. “Elyse gets back Monday.”
“What’s your wife got to do with it? I’ve missed you, and I want to spend time with you.” Smiling, he stepped back to the bed, leaned over, and brushed a light kiss across Morgan’s jaw, ending at his ear. “Didn’t you miss me? Besides, I want to tell you about my new script.”
“Oh yes. I missed you. What about the new project?”
Dan shook his head. “Check the bag. If there’s anything you want to play with, I’m game. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about the script later. That’s why I need you to stay till Tuesday.” He pushed deliberately, angling for more time with Morgan, offering the one bribe his career-obsessed lover would gladly put ahead of his wife.
Time to back off. Dan strolled to the phone, allowing his unfastened jeans to slide down as he walked, kicking them off somewhere around the sofa as he reached for the phone. He sensed Morgan’s gaze on him, knew his body held the same fascination for Morgan that the actor’s held for him. He wouldn’t turn back though. Let Morgan get over his snide remark first.
The desk clerk’s subservient murmur of acquiescence didn’t cover Morgan’s giggle or the gasp that followed it. Dan hung up the phone and turned back to the bed. Morgan had apparently found the fluffy, colorful peacock feather that Dan had included in the bag. He smiled.
“You like? Are you ticklish, baby?” He twitched, covering the wince. That baby slipped out a little too easily, a little too often.
Morgan laughed. “Are you? I’m the one who has the feather. Maybe we should find out if you’re ticklish.” He rose lithely from the bed, his graceful figure drawing Dan’s gaze. Dan backed with somewhat less grace toward the sofa.
“Now, let’s not be—” Morgan pounced, cutting him off, knocking him down onto the plush sofa, and landing atop him. Tickling and wrestling swiftly turned to kissing and caressing, and Dan sighed in pleasure as Morgan kissed his way down to Dan’s throbbing cock. He’d wanted to convince himself that he’d missed this, the hot mouth sucking bruises into his skin, these sharp teeth nipping at his flesh, this sweet tongue tormenting his slit. He wanted to miss the sex, not the man. Dan the actor could fool a lot of people. He couldn’t fool Danny though.
He gasped sharply as Morgan gave up tormenting him and abruptly took his cock deep into his mouth to suck and lick. Dan wound his hands through Morgan’s black hair and thrust up, struggling to move deeper. Morgan hummed around his cock and Dan shuddered. Morgan’s hands closed around his hips, holding him down, refusing to allow him to control the moment.
Reduced to pleading, he clenched his hands, grasping at whatever he could, Dan writhed on the sofa. Morgan knelt across his legs, his thick cock ground against Dan’s calf, leaving hot damp kisses of its own on his sensitive skin. “Please. Morgan. Baby, let me touch you, let me loose.”
Morgan shook his head as best he could around his mouthful of cock, and stared up through thick black curls at Dan. Expression determined, his grip on Dan’s hips tightened, and Dan was lost in a sea of sensation as Morgan applied himself vigorously to pushing Dan over the edge into orgasm. His neck arched as he flung his head back into the sofa cushions.
I want you. I need you. Stay with me. He bit his lips to keep inside the words that pounded in his brain—in his heart—to get out, and muffled them with an inarticulate cry when his orgasm ripped through him. Morgan licked and swallowed the last drops of cum from Dan’s spent cock, and Dan shuddered at the broad strokes of tongue over his sensitive flesh. Morgan shifted around, and Dan’s gaze returned from the ceiling to find Morgan poised over him, jerking his own cock swiftly.
He extended a hand to touch his lover, but Morgan slapped him away. Dan’s hand fell on the abandoned feather, and he picked it up, traced the delicate tip over the straining, swollen head of Morgan’s cock. He liked the way it looked. Morgan’s whimper pleased him, soothed some little hurt deep in his soul. So he did it again, then flicked the feather down over Morgan’s pumping fist, traced over his balls and down his perineum, tickled at the sensitive skin of the opening there.
Morgan shook, those little noises coming faster. Dan loved the contrast of the vibrant feather against Morgan’s skin, so he kept up the game, playing the feather over every bit of skin he could touch with it, teasing Morgan’s flat brown nipples, tracing the ridges of his abdomen, the soft blur of his lips. Morgan’s mouth opened on a long, low moan, and Dan shoved himself upright. He couldn’t wait. He flung the feather aside, and devoured Morgan’s cries of pleasure as the other man’s seed spurted onto his belly in thick, hot streams.
At last they drew apart. Morgan stared at him intently. “I missed you too.”
Thank you, God. Thank you for that little gift. Dan smiled, tugged Morgan’s hand to his lips, and licked the sticky cum from his fingers. “Good. I want you to miss me when we’re apart that long.”
Chapter Two
Morgan shifted restlessly on the hard wrought iron chair of the hotel coffee shop. His fingers itched to tug the baseball cap down further over his eyes, to adjust the dark sunglasses that completed his disguise. Worrying was foolish. No one would recognize him, and even if they did, no one observing him having coffee here with Dan Blake would assume anything other than that maybe they would be working together on a new project. God, he’d love to do another Blake production. Nevertheless, guilt niggled at the back of his mind, whispering that he owed Elyse something more than the friendship they shared. He’d made promises to her, to her father, and a man always kept his promises, didn’t he?
Since he’d followed Dan to that bar all those years ago, they had found their association beneficial and pleasurable for both of them. The pleasure aspect had kind of surprised Morgan at first, but now... He shifted again on the seat. His body ached pleasantly in places he’d nearly forgotten existed over the last three months. Dan was always a vigorous lover, but this time he’d been insatiable.
Morgan smiled at the memories of the last four days tumbling around that luxurious hotel room. They’d made love and slept and screwed some more. His ass ached pleasurably from the exertions of the weekend, and he’d be sorer still if Dan had had his way. Morgan had been forced to take inventive measures and use his imagination to deter Dan from his objective more than once, but even so, he’d feel the aftereffects of the long weekend well into the next week.
A stirring in the atmosphere drew his attention to the man who approached. Strangely, he’d always sensed Dan’s presence, could pinpoint the man at any industry party. As usual, Dan hadn’t bothered to throw on sunglasses, let alone a cap or any other attempt at disguise. Granted, as a writer he wasn’t in the public eye as much as Morgan had become lately, but still...the man was easily recognizable as a Blake with his sandy blond hair worn just above his shoulders and those telltale green eyes flashing. It wasn’t Dan’s identity, though, that sent ripples of fear down Morgan’s spine. The expression on the man’s face as he strolled across the floor, green gaze focused on Morgan, firm lips just flirting with a smile, sent waves of unease through Morgan.
Something intimate and sensual in his smile made Morgan peer warily around again. Just because he didn’t notice any reporters or tourists with their cameras out, didn’t mean they weren’t lurking in the greenery or hiding behind their newspapers. Any one of these other patrons could snap a picture of them with a cell phone, and they’d be on the entertainment news in a flash. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, necessarily, if it weren’t for that expression. The expression on Dan’s face wasn’t one a man wore to a professional meeting. He looked like a man intent on sex.
“Hey, baby.” Dan’s call from several feet away sent a dash of cold water in Morgan’s face. He shivered.
“Hey.” His weak, hollow voice surprised Morgan. Earlier, in their room, hearing Dan call him “baby” had excited him. Now, his stomach churned a bit, and the bitter, strong coffee Dan preferred sat like lead. At a loss, Morgan nervously shredded the buttery croissant on the table in front of him. He’d often wondered if Dan intentionally confused him, flipping from hot to cold, sweet to acid. But even for Dan this weekend’s behavior was different.
At first he’d attributed Dan’s strange attitude to his long absence, worried that Dan was through with him, maybe searching for a way to let him down easily. The weekend had put those doubts to rest, but now Dan’s open attitude made him nervous.
To his shock, Dan leaned over to kiss his cheek lightly in greeting before sliding into the chair opposite him. He panicked over that while Dan sipped his coffee and grimaced. Morgan shook his head, trying to make sense of the other man’s lack of discretion and became aware that Dan smiled at him peculiarly.
“What?” Something itched at the back of Morgan’s mind. Inconceivable as it seemed, Dan was acting, putting on a show, playing a role for Morgan. Why?
“You’re white. What’s wrong, baby?”
Morgan floundered for an answer. Dan knew bloody fucking well what was wrong. He was playing with Morgan, toying with him for some unknown reason, and Morgan was off balance.
Fuck. The waiter approached to refill their cups, and surely he’d heard Dan’s endearment? The young man remained expressionless as he topped up their coffee, and then silently indicated Morgan’s shredded breakfast. Morgan nodded. His mouth was dry, and he doubted he could swallow anything anyway. The waiter scooped up the plate and left without speaking.
“Dan, someone will to hear you.” He managed in feeble protest. Sometimes being Dan Blake’s lover was awesome. When he was the sole focus of those intent green eyes, the object of Dan’s attention, it was fucking glorious. But then, Dan was also a selfish bastard and an unmitigated prick at times. Like that nasty comment the other day about Morgan running when Dan called. Truth be told, he probably did run when Dan called, but mostly because he wanted very much to see Dan.
“Do you care if they do?”
He glared at Dan, grateful for the shades that hid his emotions, the flare of anger. Dan didn’t have to care. The Blakes had it all. Studio, money, acceptance in society, it was all theirs by virtue of being born Blakes. They didn’t have to worry about ever working, courting the right kind of publicity, and appeasing the fickle public. They didn’t have to worry about hurting someone they cared about. Above all else, the Blakes stood together, united against public scrutiny. They stared down adverse publicity, weathered scandal, together. He didn’t have that. He had Elyse at his side, on his side, and that was it. Letting go of their marriage would leave him truly alone, because he couldn’t count on Dan to pick up the emotional slack. Dan didn’t need him for support and encouragement, not when he had his brothers at his back.
Still, he didn’t want to piss Dan off. Dan could be unpredictable when he didn’t get his way. Morgan had experienced Dan in many moods, but he couldn’t quite interpret this one. He decided the best thing to do was ignore it.
He waved a hand dismissively. “So, Dan, tell me about this new project you’re working on. Is there a part in it for me, maybe?” The tightening of Dan’s lips told him he’d made a mistake. Leaving the introduction of the topic to Dan would have been a better move.
“Maybe. I’ll get to that. There’s plenty of time to talk about work. We’ve got all day.”
Morgan couldn’t ignore the challenge in those words. He sighed, rolling his shoulders a bit to release the tension that had begun building when he spied Dan across the room. “I have to go home eventually, Dan. I haven’t seen my wife or slept in my own bed for over three months.”
Dan stiffened across from him, eyes narrowing. “Really? Well, I guess I should be grateful you could spare the weekend for me then, shouldn’t I?”
Sucking in a swift breath, Morgan sorted through possible responses to that remark. Hell, he didn’t even want to analyze the reasons behind it! “I didn’t say that.” He gave up, sipped at his too-strong coffee, and waited. He could outwait Dan.
“Tell me, Morgan, where do you see this relationship of ours heading?” Dan’s casual tone didn’t fool Morgan. Clearly more hinged on his answer than he could conceive of at the moment.
He laughed it off. “Do we have a relationship?”
Dan picked up his silver coffee spoon and tapped it on his palm, studying Morgan intently. Morgan fought the urge to flinch under that gaze, to glance away. The secret to dealing with Dan, he’d learned long ago, was confidence. Failing actually feeling confident, he’d faked it successfully before.
“You tell me.”
Fuck. In the wrong mood, Dan was tenacious as hell. “We’re friends, Dan. It’s been a good thing for both of us.”
“Friends?” Dan stared at him.
Morgan threw his hands in the air in a gesture he’d copied from his Italian grandmother. “Friends, Dan. What the fuck? Why does it need to go somewhere?”
“I don’t fuck my friends, Morgan.”
Really? “What do you want from me here, Dan?” He didn’t understand one bit of what was happening behind those apparently open green eyes.
“I want the same thing from you that you have from me, Morgan.”
Oh shit... He started to rise from the table, but Dan’s hand closed in a solid grip on his wrist, and his choices narrowed to making a huge scene or sitting back down. He sat. “What do I have, Dan? I haven’t asked for anything from you.”
“Except an introduction, a role, a recommendation, an invitation to a party. Yeah, that’s pretty much nothing, huh?” The irony in Dan’s tone washed over him, and Morgan traced a finger around the rim of his coffee cup. He’d signal the waiter to bring him a milder brew, but the idea that the guy would recognize them, or sense the tension in the air, terrified him. After that kiss, he wouldn’t put it past Dan to blurt out something about their affair intentionally.
His cheeks burned; his palms grew clammy. His mind rebelled, and he wanted to scream that it was a fair exchange for all he’d given Dan over the years, for the kisses, the blowjobs, the sex. The companionship, the laughter, and the fun they’d had. But he couldn’t. Somehow as time passed he’d convinced himself that more existed between him and Dan than how they’d met. Evidently, Dan hadn’t forgotten and would hold it over his head forever.