Page 3 of Good Friends
The old scars and bruises he’d seen that night on the fronts of the younger man’s thighs. How the desperation in his green eyes had reminded him so much of Dane it nearly made him shiver.
How today, when Ivan had turned at the bar when Porter said his name, after getting a good look at Ivan’s gorgeous green eyes, Porter’s gaze had dropped to the man’s thighs and intense relief had set in to see neither bruises nor any fresh cutting marks.
How…emotionally fragile Porter knew the other man was. How Ivan had responded so beautifully to him that night.
The protective way Ron had curled his arm around Ivan’s body and pulled him back against him. Then Porter had spotted the matching wedding bands and immediately knew the score, even before Ivan introduced Ron.
Fuck.
If only their evening hadn’t been interrupted by work calling him in for an emergency that night, he could’ve spent the whole night with Ivan.
And then you’d probablyreallyhave gotten your heart broken, dummy. Twice in one year, that’d be a record for you, now, wouldn’t it?
Porter sipped his drink and sighed. Because normally while watching something as hot as what was currently playing out on the bed before him would turn his crank, tonight?
Nada.
He had a couple of regular play partners but hadn’t managed to make schedules work with any of them for the past several months. None of them were here at the Toucan this weekend, either.
Then, there was Gavin.
Fucking Gavin.
Porter was trying not to be a bitch about this, but his best friend and long-term fuck-buddy, who was due back in the country any day now from a year spent working down in Costa Rica, had started pulling back from him without explanation three months ago, and basically went silent over four weeks ago.
Which normally would’ve seriously worried Porter, except he knew Gavin was reading his texts. Porter was getting the damned read receipts. And Gavin was active on Facebook. Not posting much of anything, but Porter saw where Gavin had liked a few items that mutual friends had posted.
Plus, when Porter had called him three weeks ago and flat-out asked Gavin if he was pissed off at him or something, Gavin had said no, he just had a lot on his mind and needed some space. Then he’d claimed he was working and needed to go and hung up, leaving Porter staring at the phone.
Fuck.
It’d been over twelve months since he’d last seen Gavin. How muchmorefucking space did he need? He thought they’d had a great relationship. Friends first ten years ago, then friends with bennies, and then full-on fuck-buddies for the last five years. Well, six, if you counted this past year they’d spent apart.
Never before had Porter ever felt such a vast gulf between them, even when distance was a factor. Hell, the plan had been once Gavin returned to the States, he was supposed to move in with Porter for a couple of months until he could decide his next step.
Honestly? At that point, Porter had kind of been hoping he could talk Gavin into giving things a try between them in a formal way, exclusive and long-term.
Except Gavin hadn’t even brought up moving in for the past several months. If this was the way Gav was going to be, well, Porter wouldn’t bring it up, either.
He wouldn’t chase Gavin. At forty-one, Gavin was a grown-ass adult. If he wanted Porter to come begging after him when he landed in the States, he could think again. Porter thought they’d had this settled before Gavin left.
Porter didn’t do games, and Gavin damn well knew it. After circling each other for ten years as friends, he’d thought Gavin would fucking know better than to act like this.
I’m forty-eight. I’m too old to be playing fucking games.
Porter also realized, as he watched the birthday bottom’s Master hubby grinning and chatting with Donner, that tonight wasn’t going to happen for him. Not here, not now.
Not under these circumstances.
Resigned, he lifted his feet from the nameless bottom’s back and gently nudged the guy’s ass with the toe of his boot. “You can go, buddy. Thanks.”
“Yes, Sir.” The guy stood and headed over to another guy, who was standing around and awaiting a turn with the bottom. Moments later, the bottom ended up on his knees as a fluffer and surrounded by four other guys.
Porter took his drink and quietly slipped out of the suite. For a moment, he stood at the railing of the second-floor hallway, which overlooked the center courtyard pool area. Below him, a typical Friday night party was in full swing in the pool courtyard, complete with loud music, raucous laughter, and happy people getting their freak on.
Normally? He had no trouble finding company or action, when he wanted it.
Fun.
