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  “Craig, don’t say that. Lots of people care about you.”

  “Bullshit.” Before Jeff could challenge him again, Craig raised his hand. “It’s okay. Having you is more than enough. Besides, it’s not like I’m ever in need of companionship when it’s required.”

  “A faceless ass is not companionship.”

  Laughing, Craig pulled his hand away, wrapping it around the cup in front of him. “Tell my dick that. It’s pretty damn content as long as I give it a channel to fill a few times a week. Doesn’t seem to care whose name or face is attached.”

  “You’re terrible. Any man would be honored to have you as his boyfriend.”

  “I’m getting closer to thirty than twenty every day. I’m a little too old for a boyfriend. Anyway, guys like me usually attract non-boyfriend material.”

  “You are not non-boyfriend material. I wish you could see yourself like I see you.”

  “As a big brother?”

  “Is that how you think I view you?”

  Craig took another big gulp of his drink, stood up, and brought the cup and saucer to the sink. “Forget about me. What’s the plan? Do you already have someone as a backup?”

  Jeff would have been insulted had he not pulled crap like that in the past. He remembered going from his previous boyfriend into Derek’s arms. He’d sacked out at Craig’s place for just a few weeks and was moving in with Derek before he should have. This time Jeff was determined to find a man who wanted him and who wanted to be in love as much as he did.

  “No one’s waiting in the wings. If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here indefinitely.” Jeff lowered his head. “I’ll find a job and pay half the rent. I promise.”

  “I’m sure you will, and you’ll have to, otherwise we’ll both be out on the street by the time the next month’s rent is due.”

  Jeff looked up, confused by Craig’s declaration. “What are you talking about? You’ve never needed a roommate before.”

  “Remember, I’m out of a job. Unemployment doesn’t go very far in the big city. The times, they are a changing.” Craig’s brow furrowed revealing his true feelings, despite the grin he kept plastered on his face.

  “If you’re resorting to quoting Dylan, we’re all in trouble. I’m waiting for an explanation.” Jeff took Craig by the hand and walked him into the tiny living room area. The two sat on the sofa. “You never actually told me, how did your morning go, dear, and why did the boss send you packing?”

  Craig looked off to the side. “About work, or rather the lack thereof.” He bit his lip before he started talking.

  Chapter 3

  “NICE luggage. Did you have to go to Paris to get such a unique set?” Craig stuck his tongue in his cheek as he teased Jeff.

  “I guess Derek has even less class than I thought. He could have at least put my clothing and personal belongings in something a tad more chic than plastic trash bags.” Jeff hovered over each large sack, opening it to confirm that everything was there.

  “You’re far more of a visionary than I am if you saw any class at all in that big ape.”

  “Craig, honey, I understand you’re trying to be funny, to cheer me up, but I’m just not ready for a constant stream of derogatory Derek humor.”

  Craig saw the sadness and resignation in his friend’s eyes. A momentary flash of guilt stung him so he changed the subject. “Okay, sorry. Let’s focus on the future.”

  “What future?” Jeff tilted his head. “We’re both jobless, and in a month, if we don’t fix that problem, we’ll also be homeless.”

  Walking up behind Jeff, Craig massaged the visibly tense shoulders. “Hey, take the intensity down a notch. You’ll have a heart attack before the end of the month if you stay this wound up.”

  Jeff closed his eyes, his head falling back as Craig continued working the knots between the redhead’s shoulder blades. “Mmm, that feels amazing.”

  “Not a bad reaction for an activity that doesn’t include my cock.”

  “Sex isn’t everything, you know.”

  Craig snorted. “Oh really! It sure as shit helps when everything else is screwed up. In fact, I say we both go out to the Music Box tonight and see if we can improve the outcome of this extremely fucked-up day.”

  “You must be kidding!” Jeff stepped away from Craig’s ongoing ministrations, put his hands on his hips, and turned around, glaring. Craig would have laughed at Jeff’s imitation of a fishwife had he not been so surprised by the over-the-top reaction. “That place is a haven for one-night stands and twinkie sluts.”

  “It wasn’t that long ago you were one of those twinkie sluts.”

  “I hate to break this to you, Craig, but we’re the same age. It wasn’t so long ago for you, either.”

  Poking Jeff in the ribs, Craig chuckled. “I was never a twink.”

  “So you were born a hunky top.”

  “Exactly!”

  Jeff laughed out loud, his hands dropping from his hips.

  “It’s good to hear that sound, even if it is at the expense of my masculinity.”

  “Honey, you’re gay. Your machismo only goes so far.”

  “I resent that.” Craig was glad to see Jeff’s mood return to a more playful demeanor. “So, are we heading out? You can tackle all this shit tomorrow. Sleep in your briefs tonight, or nothing for that matter. I don’t give a shit. We’ve known each other forever.”

  “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Jeff brushed his fingers over Craig’s cheek. He shivered in response to the gentle contact.

  Stepping back, Craig avoided the beautiful baby blues staring in his direction. Beautiful! Where the hell did that come from? They had to get out of the apartment. If they stayed, Craig feared he might do something stupid. Exploring where thoughts like that came from, or acting on them, could only lead to disaster. To even think of hooking up with Jeff in an attempt to make him feel better about the mess the day had been could only lead to a backlash that would, in all likelihood, signal the end of their friendship—something Craig valued far too highly to risk losing.

  Jeff lowered his head. “I’ll head into the bathroom to freshen up, and then we can visit the Music Box. Maybe letting off some steam on the dance floor will do us both some good.”

  Craig nodded, rushing off to his bedroom to change. Taking off the cargo pants he wore when hanging around the apartment, Craig sat on the bed, his eyes wide as he stared at his tented briefs. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Craig whispered to himself in the solitude of his own room, listening to the faucet running in the bathroom. “How can you have the goddamn hots for your best buddy? Damn, it’s practically incest.”

  In an attempt to change his focus, Craig thought back to the early days with Jeff, the first day they’d met at track practice. There were six long-distance runners on their high school track team. The coach paired them for running safety, and they were off. Most of the time they ran alongside the Charles River. The atmosphere was great, and it was an easy path to follow. On occasion, if Jeff took a slight lead, he loved to steer them down the streets surrounding the Massachusetts Institute of Technology on one side of the river or Boston University on the other.

  They would run for miles and never get bored with, or tired of, either the running or each other. Several of the guys on the team were gay. It seemed to be the nature of the sport. Craig wondered if others had been as influenced as he had been by the book The Front Runner. It was almost like he wanted to make up for the ending by being a great, long-distance running success.

  His first hook-up was with… what the hell was his name? It didn’t matter. He had a tight ass, great legs, and no zits. Better than most in high school. He was the first guy to give Craig a blow job and the first he’d met who was so firmly locked in his closet he’d tried to beat the crap out of Craig for trying to touch his arm in front of the rest of the team.

  It was then that Craig had learned sex and love didn’t have to be associated. He could get off, get blown, and fuck anyone without
getting involved. He wouldn’t get hurt physically or emotionally. It had seemed to work for him ever since, and Craig planned to get some more practice at the Music Box. A club full of hot, eager dicks and asses, and no one encouraging or insisting on an attachment that might lead to pain.

  “Craig,” Jeff yelled from outside the locked bedroom door, “are you ready yet? And why’s your door locked? Since when are you so modest with me?”

  Shaking his head and blinking, Craig looked down. Memories of high school and what’s-his-name with the strong left jab had certainly helped calm him. The question was, why hadn’t thoughts of Jeff, and why had he felt the need to lock the door? Craig shook his head, refusing to even marginally address the subject. “Be right there. I’m just picking out something that’ll attract the hottest guys.”

  Craig heard Jeff snicker. “Then don’t wear anything. They all adore your six-pack, and your cock would certainly get my attention.”

  “It’s not your attention I’m looking for.” Craig wanted to take back the words the minute they flew out of his mouth.

  No more conversation was exchanged through the door. Craig tossed on a pair of tight fitting, dark wash jeans and a black T-shirt. He looked in the mirror. “Definitely hot.” He combed his fingers through his hair and left it at that. “Now, if you keep your mouth shut, you may not alienate anyone else.”

  Stepping out of the room he spotted Jeff by the door. He wasn’t wearing anything special, but leaning against the wall, he looked so thoughtful, his eyes looking toward the ceiling and his long neck—shit! Craig couldn’t imagine where all these crazy ideas were coming from. It must have something to do with being fired.

  “Let’s get out of here. We’re both suffering from cabin fever and need to head out into the world.”

  “You mean we need to get laid, or at least you do.” Jeff opened the door to the apartment and slipped out ahead of Craig.

  “About that remark before, I didn’t—”

  Jeff cut him off, his lips a tight, thin line. “What remark? Nothing to discuss. Let’s go dance, preferably not with each other.”

  Craig winced. He detected an uncomfortable edge in the tone of his friend’s voice. It was a sound Craig wasn’t familiar with at all. He’d heard Jeff angry, distraught, even in pain, but this sounded like some sort of hurt resignation he hadn’t come across, and yet, somehow, he felt the same way.

  THE Music Box was practically filled to capacity by the time Jeff and Craig arrived. The ride on the T and subsequent walk seemed to have relaxed both men.

  Jeff looked around the room. “It amazes me how many of these guys think this is the place to find love and romance.”

  Craig grinned. “Boy, did they make a wrong choice if that’s what they’re after.”

  “Do you think there’s any place out there for a gay man who wants to find the love of his life?” Jeff knew he sounded like a starry-eyed kid, but he didn’t want to settle for an eternity of tricks or dead-end relationships.

  “I have no idea.” Craig could feel his body responding to the loud rhythms pumping through the sound system. “It’s never been a priority for me.”

  Jeff squeezed Craig’s arm and mumbled to himself knowing his hunky friend was focused on finding the perfect conquest for the night. “More’s the pity.”

  “Come on. I’ll buy you your first drink. We’ll toast to your new-found freedom.” Craig led the way toward the long bar, extending across an entire wall of the nightclub.

  Jeff wasn’t sure it was freedom he wanted, but he was glad to be away from Derek. It was definitely something worth raising a glass to. He leaned against the smoked-glass facade, backlit with every color of the rainbow. One thing great about being gay, you didn’t have to be afraid to be loud and colorful. It was expected, and Jeff was perfectly happy to let his flamboyant side shine.

  Handing Jeff a martini, Craig seemed to be looking beyond his friend as he held up his shot glass and downed a double Scotch.

  Turning around briefly, Jeff saw a tanned brunet eyeing Craig. It was clear Craig picked up on the signal and was interested.

  “Go for it.” Jeff took a sip of his drink to keep himself from biting his lip.

  “No, that’s okay. We came to cheer you up.” Craig was saying all the right words.

  “You need cheering, too, Mr. Unemployment Check.” Jeff nudged Craig’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. He was surprised to see Craig tense at the touch. His friend had been jumpy all evening. “Go play. I’ll find someone who wants to dance.”

  “The back room is big enough for more than just me and the bottom-boy du jour.”

  Jeff offered a half-smile. “I’m sure it is, but I’m not ready. Dancing and flirting is my plan for tonight. If anything goes any further, it’ll be spontaneous.”

  “Ever the romantic.” Craig’s eyes locked with the brunet’s, and he tilted his head toward the back of the club. The two walked through the hot, sweaty mass of men until they disappeared through a black-curtained doorway near the rear of the Music Box.

  Jeff shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, hell. What’s wrong with me? Could I have my sights set on a more hopeless case?” Looking along the bar he spotted a beefy blond whose body and look were quite similar to Craig’s but with a bit more meat and muscle on his bones. “Well, you don’t have a runner’s build, but it’s just for tonight. Time for me to have a little fun. Maybe Craig knows something I don’t know.”

  Making his way along the bar, Jeff approached his target. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “How about we check out the dance floor? They’re playing our song.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Whatever the DJ has blasting through the speakers.” The guy winked, and Jeff sent his best come-hither glance his way, offering his hand.

  He laughed at his own silly thoughts, remembering an old tune his mother used to play after his father left them. If you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now.

  “Let’s go, sweet prince. Our dance awaits.”

  Chapter 4

  CRAIG leaned against a wall in the back room of the Music Box. The cement was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat building within. Touch. All he wanted was touch and satisfaction. Not much to ask after getting the shaft from his dead-end job.

  Brunet Boy ogled Craig, standing on his toes to reach up for a devouring kiss. It was hungry and heartless, just right.

  “I’m—”

  “No.” Craig gripped the guy by the nape of his neck crashing their lips together once more. He wanted no introductions. There were more important matters at hand. His cock wanted, and needed attention right now. Nothing more.

  Squeezing and pressing his fingers gently on the kid’s shoulder was all it took. The dark-haired wonder with the now-swollen lips was down on his knees in a split second, deftly opening the button and zipper on Craig’s jeans with one hand. Good, someone who’s done this before.

  As soon as he felt the air against his cock, Craig smiled. This was what he was after. “Let’s get down to business and make good use of our time.”

  The twink looked up, grinning as he tenderly started to massage Craig’s balls.

  “Ahh. Don’t make me wait.” Tonight was all about getting down and dirty.

  When the kid’s tongue drew a trail from the base of his lengthening cock to the moist tip, Craig’s head fell back. The plan for the night was working out fine. Satisfaction guaranteed with minimum effort on his part.

  It was just right until he heard a familiar voice a few feet away.

  “I don’t see you around here much. Glad I’ll get to have a piece of you. Seems like my lucky night.”

  Sam. He always attracted the hottest ass on the dance floor. Craig couldn’t figure out what they saw in him. He huffed. They saw the broadest shoulders, matched with the biggest bulge around.

  Craig knew the tricks all loved his own long dick, but when they wanted to
scream in ecstasy there was no question who the prize would be. Sam was hung, and when he was hard, his cock was so long and thick it sent chills through every bottom in the city. If Sam hadn’t picked the law as his chosen profession, he would have been a very successful porn star. Craig had never watched a video that could hold a candle to Sam’s well-endowed dick coupled with the sounds he made when he shot.

  “Keep going, kid. Feels great.” Trying to stay focused on the business at hand, Craig ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, resting there, threaded between the locks to keep him going. “Don’t make me wait.” He loved seeing someone worshipping his erect cock. There was a charge he only got when he knew they were his, and only his, for the moment.

  Looking down, Craig watched the kid smile around his erect member. He was doing amazing things with his tongue, circling it slowly around the head. The velvet texture adding just the right pressure. It was wet and seductive at the same time. “Fuck!” The twink clearly had practice.

  Although he tried to block him out, Craig couldn’t help but hear the unmistakable sounds of Sam’s pleasure. He was definitely enjoying himself too. “Yeah, baby. Move those hands. Shit! I may come before you even get me in your mouth.” Heavy breathing. “Oh hell! Where are you putting those long fingers? Not there. Ahhh! Damn, so fucking hot.”

  It was hard to believe the same mouth had such a reputation for eloquence. He had earned the privilege of representing some of the biggest companies in the Greater Boston area. Contracts Sam had crafted were hailed in the news as brilliant. His clients were always in the best of hands. If only they knew.

  Craig looked across the room, hoping to get a look at the hot trick ministering to the big cock of the walk. Maybe he’d go for him next time.

  “What the hell?” Craig whispered, moving enough that his trick had to steady his hands on his hips to hold him in place as he began to suck.

  If the trick hadn’t had his lips wrapped around him, Craig was sure he would have gone soft in less than five seconds. What the hell was Jeff doing in the back room? He hardly ever played this game, and certainly not so soon after breaking up with a lover.