Page 21 of Gay for Pay
Linc turned around to face him and smiled. “You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that? No, I’m not walking out on you, but I’m also not going to have this conversation in a bed where you and I just fucked another guy, on-camera, for money. Now get your ass up, get dressed, and meet me in my room in ten minutes; I’ll go grab some food.” Chris threw a pillow at Linc’s head and he easily dodged it, ducking, then slamming the door behind him as he left. Chris didn’t want to move, still too comfortable and sated from the orgasm he had not even an hour ago, but he got up and got dressed anyway, running to his room for a quick shower.
Throwing on the first thing he pulled out of his bag, Chris hurried down the hall to Linc’s room. He knocked once to let Linc know he was there, then turned the knob and walked in. There were two plates of food sitting on the dresser, right next to a large plastic bowl full of ice and beer. He chuckled and grabbed a couple of bottles, twisting off the caps and guzzling half in just one pull before sitting on the edge of the bed. The shower turned off and he looked up to see Linc standing the doorway, wearing nothing but a smile and a goddamn towel. Chris choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just swigged. Linc rushed over and started pounding on his back. “Take it easy, you okay?” he asked.
Chris leaned on his elbows and looked up at him; he was truly falling for Linc. The kind of shy, completely adorable and downright sexy man. Not Linc Larsen the porn star, just Linc, his Linc. “You sure you’re good?” Linc leaned over and kissed Chris, and it took a massive amount of self-control for him to keep his hands off the man. It wasn’t sex he wanted, though that was pretty fantastic. No, he wanted to lie in bed and hold Linc while they watched an obscenely romantic black-and-white movie. No lights, no sound on the TV, just the two of them in the dark, getting to know each other without words.
All too soon, Linc pulled away from him, grabbing a pair of shorts from his dresser and, thankfully, heading into the bathroom to get dressed. Chris found the remote and flipped the TV on, pulled the blanket and pillows off the bed, and spread them out on the floor, then grabbed the food and beers. “Well, look at you, Christopher. You wouldn’t be a hopeless romantic by any chance, would you?” Linc’s smile lit up his eyes, and Jesus, the man was beautiful.
“Only time will tell.” Chris waggled his eyebrows, motioning for Linc to take a seat beside him on the floor. They sat there for hours, nibbling the food, sipping their beers, and watching reruns ofFriendswhile they talked about mundane shit. Chris was kind of mesmerized with the energy Linc emitted when they were together.
Linc told Chris about his family and how accepting they were when he came out to them as bisexual at just thirteen years old. “I remember being on the playground at school, watching the boys and girls and trying to figure out which one I liked. You see, I have a gay uncle and my mom wanted to be sure my sister and I knew she would love us regardless. So I knew about boys liking boys and girls liking girls when I was six, but as I got older I still couldn’t figure out which one I liked best.” Linc popped a pretzel into his mouth, washing it down with a healthy swig of water. Chris watched his Adam’s apple and felt an insane urge to lick it from top to bottom. Good Lord, day one of their relationship and Chris already felt like a hormonal teenager.
Linc was either unaware of Chris’s inner monologue or ignoring it quite well. “And then on my thirteenth birthday, this girl named Megan something—I can’t remember her last name—anyway, she gave me a kiss for my birthday, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy. So I thought, well, that’s it, I must like girls. But then her brother Roy cornered me when I was coming out of the bathroom, muscled his way into the stall, and slammed the door. He pinned me up against the wall and kissed me, way better than his sister did and not only did I feel all warm and fuzzy, I got my first full-on erection.” Linc laughed, the sound rolling off his mouth, warm and hearty.
“So I told my mom that night, ‘Mom, I like boys and girls, is that okay?’ And she said, ‘Of course it is, baby. That just means you’re bi.’ And for years I didn’t fully understand what she meant by that, saying I was bi, but as I got older and experimented more, figuring out my body and who I was, I learned what it meant. It really pisses me off when people say, ‘Oh you’re just confused,’ or ‘Oh, you want to have your cake and eat it too.’ No, I want to be with whomever I want to be with. That may be a woman, or it may be a man, but I get to decide—and either way, it’s okay.”
Listening to Linc talk about his family left Chris feeling bereft. Though he’d finally come to terms with the loss of his own flesh and blood, he still occasionally dreamed of a day when he’d open his front door to find his parents on the welcome mat, apologetic and forgiving. “Whoa, wait, where’d you go just now? ’Cause I don’t like it. Come here.” Linc reached for him, his thick, muscled arms wrapping around Chris and making him feel safe.
“Talk to me, babe,” Linc whispered in his ear.
Chris kissed Linc on the cheek and sat back on his heels. “You sure you want to open that can of worms right now?”
“Yep.”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Sighing, he finished the last couple of sips of his beer, took the bottle of water Linc handed him, and tossed the empty beer into the trash.
Trips down memory lane were always a dark, damp, stormy day for Chris. No sunshine and roses or long walks through the park, holding hands. “It all happened so fast, you know? I mean, when I try to remember every detail, I can’t. Things will probably always be foggy. But there’s this one long, continuous thread that starts with us winning the game, talking to the recruiter for Bama, sitting on Michael’s couch beside Amanda. Then in a flash we’re in the truck, my screams punctuated by the sharp smell of blood and torn metal, Amanda…” Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, Chris closed his eyes, trying to stay focused and not fall apart in front of Linc. He really wanted to get to know the man better, have some time in the relationship under his belt before he broke down in front of him.
Linc reached for Chris’s hand and, threading their fingers and lifting them to his mouth, gently kissed his knuckles. “Go on.” Such an effortless gesture, bound by two simple words, set Chris’s mind at ease.
He nodded and took a minute to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t lying when he told Linc he couldn’t remember everything from that night. “After the accident, my family disowned me, kicked me to the curb, packed everything of mine that was in the home I grew up in into boxes, and set them on Michael’s doorstep. Fuck, Linc, I was still in a hospital bed recovering from a twelve-hour surgery to fuse my goddamn spine together, and my fucking father was packing my shit up like old, forgotten clothes he was taking to Goodwill!”
Chris took a few seconds to calm his racing heart. He was about to tell Linc something he hadn’t told another living soul, ever, not even Michael. “A couple of weeks after I was released from the hospital, I got in a cab and went home, knocked on the door. I stood there on the porch of the house I learned to walk in. The backyard I first threw a football in with my dad after church on Sunday, the tire swing we hung still swaying from the large oak tree. I begged him to listen to me, or talk to me, to reconsider…‘You’re my fucking parents for Christ’s sake, how can you throw me out like trash?’ I shouted and cursed. And you know what, Linc?” The patient, gorgeous man sitting in front of him shook his head and rubbed his thumbs over Chris’s knuckles.
“He said, ‘I have no son,’ and slammed the door in my face.” Chris couldn’t grasp every detail from the night of the accident long enough to form a coherent thought, but that last conversation with his father was etched in his brain clearer than crystal.
“Look at me, Chris,” Linc prodded. Blinking away tears, he lifted his head, completely entranced by Linc’s understanding gaze. “I know Amanda meant a lot to you, and you’ll think of her every day. And while I’m a territorial, clingy bastard, I’ll never mind sharing your heart with her. As far as the two people that made you and gave birth to you, fuck ’em! If they can’t see how absolutely wonderful you are, see that you are human and bound to make mistakes, they don’t deserve your tears, Chris. You have so many people in your life now that truly care about you and want you in their lives. So every time you think about how betrayed you feel over your parents walking away from you without a second thought, keep in mind that every goddamn person in this house would fight to keep you inourlives.”
Chris’s heart swelled with pride and he blushed, his cheeks warm and toasty. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing Linc softly, slowly, deliberately.
“On that note…” Chris stood and stretched, his ass sore from sitting on the floor for the past couple of hours. He helped Linc to his feet, and the two of them tossed the blanket and pillows onto the bed. “Well, I guess I’ll head back to my room now.” He reached for Linc’s arm and turned him, pulling him closer for a good-night kiss.
The kiss quickly went from good night toHoly shit, let’s get naked!When Chris released his lips long enough to catch his breath, Linc managed to murmur one strained word. “Stay.” Chris stared at him for a minute, trying to decide.It would be amazing to fall asleep and wake up in someone’s arms for a change, he thought. So he agreed.
“’Kay, but only because I’m dying to hold you in my arms while you sleep, and we still haven’t had that talk yet.” Chris winked, trying not to grin. “And uh…I sleep naked.” Waggling his eyebrows, he smiled. Linc shook his head and laughed. They stripped and climbed into the bed quickly, wrapping their arms and legs around each other. They kissed for what seemed like hours, until the exhaustion of the day caught up with them and they passed out, arms and legs still tangled together.
Chapter Twenty One
Baby Steps
Chris was rudely woken up way too early the next morning when the sun came pouring in through the window. He dragged his ass out of the bed and jerked the curtains closed before he dove back under the sheets, reaching for Linc, wanting him close, to feel skin on skin. Linc chuckled as he pulled the blanket up over his head and they wiggled around a little, trying to get comfortable again. The problem arose when the wiggling woke up a certain member of Chris’s anatomy.
Ignoring his hard-on, he snuggled closer to Linc, freezing when he heard a soft chuckle from the other side of the room. Chris was out of the bed, legs wobbly but standing at the foot of the bed with the sheet wrapped around him in a flash. Linc sat up with the corner of the sheet Chris held covering his junk. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Chris yelled. “What the fuck are you doing, Andrew?”
Andrew sat in the chair by the door, legs crossed, camera in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, smiling up at them. “I told you, before you fuck each other silly, call me, I’ll grab the camera.”
“We’re not fucking, at least not with you and that damn camera in here,” Linc said.
Andrew didn’t flinch, didn’t blink; he just watched them with a cocky grin. He chuckled, raising his cup to his mouth and taking a huge gulp. “Mmmm,” Chris’s eyes darted to the cup, but even coffee wasn’t worth sharing his alone time with Linc. He scowled at Andrew, pointed toward the door, and in a very demanding tone said, “Get. Out!”
