Ten years ago David Worral had plans to go to college and the potential for a beautiful future in front of him. One tragic accident later, he fled to California and reinvented himself as Dex, top porn model of Johnnies.
Dex’s life is a tangled mess now, but the guys he works with only see the man who makes them believe even porn stars can lead normal lives. When Kane, one of Dex’s coworkers, gets kicked out of his house, the least Dex can do is give him a place to stay. Kane may be a hyperactive muscle-bound psycho, but he’s also a really nice guy. What could be the harm?
Except nothing is simple—not sex, not love, and not the goofy kid with the big dick and bigger heart who moves his life into Dex’s guest room. When they start negotiating fractured pasts and broken friends, Dex wonders if Kane’s honest nature can untangle the sadness that stalled his once-promising future. With Kane by his side, Dex just might be able to reclaim the boy he once was—and if he can do that, he can give Kane the home and the family he deserves.
The fifth book, Bobby Green, comes out February 4, 2018; so if Performing for the Masses gets your interest, make sure you check out the first book in the Johnnies series, Chase in Shadow.
Performing for the Masses
Dex was getting used to those moments of panic when he saw the blue pieces of paper fall out of Frances’s backpack. Especially after the turtle debacle the week before.
But this one was hand written, with a giant PLEASE scrawled across the top, and Mrs. Richard’s number written in sharpie right underneath it.
Dex stared at the note in panic. “Jesus, Frances, did you kill someone?”
“No,” she said from the back of the car, waving that off like she got asked about murder all the time. “They just want you to do what you do at work.”
In the driver’s seat, Kane started to cough until Dex socked him in the arm.
“Ouch! I’m driving here!”
“Carlos!” Dex snapped. “What does she think I do at work?”
“I don’t know. Why does it matter?”
“Because they want me to do it tomorrow night for their Christmas program!”
“Wow.” Kane’s expressive brown eyes got really big. “I think I would have paid a lot more attention in school if that was part of the Christmas program.”
“We’re talking about grade-schoolers here!” Dex could not emphasize his hysteria enough.
“Which is why I’m sure she meant something else,” Kane soothed, like Dex was overthinking this whole ex-porn-star paranoia. Then he pitched his voice over the seat. “Frances, bunny, what do you think Uncle Dex does at work?”
“He takes pictures of people on the computer,” she said guilelessly. “For commercials for his business.”
They both let out simultaneous breaths of relief.
“Yes, bunny, that’s what I do.” Dex tried to still the roaring of his heart in his ears, and he took a look at the note again. “And apparently she wants me to do that during your Christmas presentation tomorrow night.”
“Oh good!” Frances actually clapped. “Because you’ll get a picture of me in my new dress.”
Dex’s eyes went wide and next to him, Kane’s did the same.
“New dress?” Oh hell, was that a requirement?
“Yeah. Cause you’re going to get me a new dress and it’s going to be purple and velvet and have lace and tights and shiny black shoes. Can we go get it now?”
Dex leaned his head against his palm and closed his eyes, feeling the throb of stress at his temples. “Yeah, bunny. Kane can help you do that.”Since Kane’s finals had ended the day before, thank God. “Depending on what Mrs. Richards has to say, I might have to go back to the school and set up cameras.”
“You gotta get them from work, Dexter,” Kane said seriously. “Which means…”
“Oh God.” They only had so many cameras. “Yeah, I really gotta talk to Mrs. Richards. And then I gotta talk to my boss.”
“I thought you were the boss, Unca Dex?” Frances said guilelessly.
“Only at home, bunny,” Kane told her.
This time Dex was the one who started coughing, and Kane had to pound him on the back.
“Oh, honestly, Mr. Worrall, one camera is all we need.” Mrs. Richards, Frances’s tiny pre-school teacher always sounded like she wanted to mom the world. “The principal’s sister has shot our video in the past, and she’s not really a professional, but the parents really loved having a DVD to take home.”
In his head, Dex was already thinking about the cafeteria stage and the acoustics and how he’d like to set up a microphone and at least three cameras and…
“Well, can I take some time tomorrow and set it up?” he asked, trying to keep his professional pride from making him diva the hell out. His name was on ½ of Johnnies product as videographer, at this point, and it’s not like he was going to put “Dex” on all THESE DVDs, but it would be nice to know he’d done a good job.
“Sure—we can let you into the cafeteria during the day. Will Carlos be able to pick her up if you’re still busy?”
“Yeah—a friend of ours is going to put her hair up in tinsel and shi, erm, stuff. And tights. Carlos and I aren’t so good with tights.” Mrs. Bobby’s Mom, erm, Isabel Roberts, had filled in very nicely for Kelsey since Kelsey had started working at their non-porn related businesses.
“Well invite your friend to see the show,” Mrs. Richards said kindly. “In fact, invite as many of them as you want. The kids get so excited when their family shows up.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Dex said blandly—but inside he was thinking no. Probably not. That would be a disastrous idea and he didn’t want part of it in any way shape or form. Mrs. Bobby’s Mom was the exception, because they had to ask her, and that was it. All. Dex would set up one camera with a dual lens and call it good.
“No!” John said ten minutes later, sounding put out. “One camera is not enough. And you’re gonna take the old ones? The antiques? No buddy—can’t let you. I’ve got three new handhelds, and the new editing computer. We’re going to do this up right!”
Dex’s brain went on short circuit.
“Who’s we again?”
“Well, you’ll be sitting by the center tripod and manning the editing box, so that’s me on one camera, Reg on lights board—I’ll call him tonight and let him know—and we’ll need one more body with a cameras. Ethan can do it, you think?”
Oh Lord. “Three cameras?” he asked, sounding pained. “Lights? Are you—“
“Hey. Call the preschool teacher and ask her if she wants glitter and balloons. Galen knows a party set up place that’ll do it for half price. His treat.”
“Really? John, it’s gradeschool!”
“No, seriously. Ask her. It’ll be great! Now shut up and let me call people.”
John hung up and Dex spent five minutes simultaneously cooking dinner and banging his head against the wall. Call John—that was all it was going to be, call John. Ask his friend and business partner for a favor. The end.
He calmed himself down enough to call Mrs. Richards—who, oh-my-fucking-God was thrilled, positively giddy, to have the offer of balloons from Galen’s law firm (which as far as Dex knew was still just a name on a card and a lot of personal referrals). Dex was disentangling himself from her effusive thanks when Tommy called.
“You weren’t even gonna fuckin’ invite us?” Dex heard Tommy’s snapping black eyes and Irish-boy snarl, even over the phone.
“What in the hell?”
“It’s her whole preschool class, Tommy! You guys have a baby—“
“It’s a baby, asshole, not the fuckin’ plague. I had to tell Chase I missed your call, he was getting all butthurt because he thought you didn’t want us at Frances’s thing!”
“That is a lie.” It had to be. Chase wouldn’t be hurt—he’d been doing so good since last year. He’d lost some of his muscle mass, and he looked more blond haunted poet than dumb jock now, but inside he was so much stronger. Chase would probably rather have rectal surgery than go see little kids dan—
“I had to take an extra Xanax, motherfucker!” Chase snarled from somewhere near Tommy’s ear. “What, we’re not good enough to be uncles too?”
“You’re insane,” Dex said helplessly. “Certifiably insane. She’s wearing purple velveteen with spangles and tights. Or she’d better be, because they’re out shopping now and that kid and a fucking agenda. You gonna dress little Chance up to—“
“Tommy—hey—where you—oh! Dex, what did you just say to him that made him go shopping?”
“I told her what Frances is gonna be wearing,” Dex said. “And there’s a special place in hell for people who dress their kids up in purple velveteen without the kids’ express request—tell him that. Hell. Me and Kane are fuckin’ doomed, but you’ve got a clean slate with Chance—don’t you dare—“
“Stop whining about clothes, Dex. I gotta bail—Tommy’s gonna start sending me pictures of outfits. I’d totally go with him but the kid’s down for a nap, and that’s fuckin’ sacred.”
“I am aware. Now if you’ll excuse me—“ his phone buzzed. It was Kelsey, and Dex’s life was flashing in front of his eyes.
“What’s she wearing?” Kelsey demanded. “I’m dressing Audrey to match.”
“Purple velveteen, but you don’t have to—“ The phone clicked and Dex suppressed a whimper. Oh Jesus. Was there anyone else he could call? If Reg was gonna be there, Bobby was gonna be there, so that made what? Twelve people? Or was it ten? Did they count the babies?
His phone rang again, and Dex answered it, putting it on speaker and setting it on the ledge in front of the dishwasher so he could grab some Advil and a soda and then keep cooking.
“So, Dexter,” Kane said without preamble. “We got the dress—it looks hella cute, but I’m stopping at the grocery store on the way home.”
“We just went shopping,” he said, because they were having fresh chicken breasts and steamed spinach with a little bit of polenta on the side.
“Yeah, I know, but like, Ethan called me, and everybody’s coming to see her so I told him we’re meeting at our place afterwards, you know. Like a party. I figured hot chocolate, chips, and I gotta make cookies right?”
Dex washed down the Advil and gave in to the inevitable. “Yeah. Of course you do. Wouldn’t be a Christmas party if you didn’t make cookies. Don’t be too long, okay? It’s bath night for Frances and she needs to go to bed early, right?”
“Oh yeah. No worries. I’ll be up baking anyway.”
Dex gave a tired little smile and celebrated letting go of his anxiety. What the hell. He’d spent almost ten years fucking guys on film, right? How bad could tomorrow get? It was a little kids’ Christmas presentation.
All his friends were going.
All his big musclebound, amazing looking friends and children dressed in matching purple velveteen and mommies hungry to see little kids sing “We bwish vou a mewwy Cwissmas.”
And a big net of balloons and confetti falling on everybody’s head.
The Advil wasn’t working fast enough. There wasn’t enough Advil on the world.
“Unca Dex!” Frances called as Dex did a light reading in the tiny, almost-empty cafeteria. The cracked yellow tile kept throwing off the light meter. Dex grimaced and waved—it was her class’s turn to practice, but this was the third time Frances had interrupted a very spirited version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, complete with props like flashlights and clown noses and fake Monopoly boards.
“Frances,” Mrs. Richards said patiently, “your uncle is trying to set up for tonight, honey. We can’t keep interrupting the song—“
“But I want him to sing with us!” Frances wailed. “He helped me know all the words!”
Dex met Mrs. Richards’ faintly sardonic gaze with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry—I should have known—“
“Please, Unca Dex!” Francis begged, his and Kane’s tiny bunny on the chipped wooden stage with twenty other children.
Who all started begging him, like parrots. “Please, Unca Dex! Please! Please!”
Mrs. Richards glared at him, and Dex sighed. “Sure. But just for rehearsal, okay? I can’t do this tonight. I’ll be filming so you all get to be pretty for your moms and dads.”
“And uncles and aunts,” Frances insisted.
“Course, bun. Okay guys—you go from there and I’ll go from here, okay?”
Dex had always been a performer—he wouldn’t have been able to shoot porn for ten years of some of him—a lot of him—didn’t get off on having people love what he did.
He started off with a little be-bopping and some shuffling, but as the kids smiled at him and used their props with gusto, he put a little drama in it, grinning at the whole class at the end when they all belted the famous last line.
The kids laughed and cheered at him when he was done, and he winked and bowed at the waist.
Mrs. Richards’ assistant led the kids down off the stage so the next class could go up, and then Frances’s teacher came to stand next to him. “You know you’re going to have to do that for the show,” she said, with absolutely nothing in her voice that sounded like kidding.
“I do not,” he argued. “I’m down here, on—“
“Give the camera to Carlos,” she told him, her voice like iron. “I spent three weeks with those kids, getting them use the props and sing the song and practice like pros, and they were fine. But now, if they see you in the audience, standing up, they’re going to need to watch you like a hawk or they’ll forget their whole show.”
She was like, 4’11”. Dex literally had to bend his neck looking down at her. But he couldn’t find a single fiber in his being that was going to fight her on this matter.
“Sure,” he said weakly.
“Wear a Santa hat, so the parents know it’s on purpose,” she said, voice grim. “And I assume you’ll be dressed well.”
“Dress shirt and—“
“Tie,” she said. “The little boys need a suit and tie, the little girls in their best outfits. Dress shirt and tie, Mr. Worrall. And be ready when the whole school is up there for the finale—it’s We Wish You a Merry Christmas—“
“I know what it is,” he muttered. He’d helped Frances rehearse for this one too. “Really they just sing.”
“Yes, they do. Along with the teachers. And you too.”
“They won’t even—“
“Mr. Worrall, that child worships you. The parent volunteers with the Santa hats will be singing. And so will you.”
She spun on her heel to go supervise her class, and Dex sighed. Well, at least the camera would be pointed at the children.
So much excitement and so many people, crammed into the tiny cafeteria.
Dex took center with the camera and the computer with the feeds, and John took stage left, and Ethan took the camera for stage right. They each made a little station with a tripod and a cheap folding chair, and Dex did some pre-editing as the feeds reached his computer. Dex heard a lot of parents remarking softly on the filming, and how it seemed so much more professional than last year, which was nice. Galen Henderson, Attorney at Law, was given credit for the “special effects” donation, too.
And Kane sat in Dex’s seat without question when Frances’s class took the stage.
“We haven’t been panning much,” Dex murmured, “so just make sure nothing goes wampus and I’ll edit the rest tonight.”
“Yeah, sure, Dex,” Kane nodded, looking unperturbed, but then, he hadn’t been perturbed as he’d walked into the cafeteria early with, well, all the frickin’ people. Pretty much everybody was sitting over by John, because there were babies in strollers and the end was more convenient, but Dex had caught the stares at Ethan and Bobby too, because Kane didn’t get enough attention, apparently, and having guys built like his guys, and that pretty as well, was really sort of trippy for the general crowd at an elementary school in their district. “What are you doing again?”
“Just letting them see me—I guess they got attached at rehearsal. Don’t worry about it. Focus on the kids.”
Dex ignored all the people then, so grateful for him—getting behind the camera, not asking questions, taking everything in stride while Dex was freaking the fuck out. He leaned in and pecked him on the cheek in the middle of the dark and crowded cafeteria. Nobody noticed, and just knowing he’d be there, to make sure Francis’s class got their fair share of filming made this thing he was about to do a piece of cake.
“Back in a second, Carlos. Don’t break nothin’.”
“As if. Go.”
Kane was entranced as Frances began to sing, of course, because to him, she was the only one worth watching. But then, as the kids started pulling out their props and using them in the right places he realized they were focusing on a point just beyond the edge of the stage.
He looked up and saw… Dexter.
Dancing. Singing—not loud, because Kane couldn’t hear him—but singing. Wiggling his little tushy in time to the music.
Kane—who had enjoyed buying Frances’s dress immensely and couldn’t imagine anything better than seeing her up there, period—felt his throat swell.
Look at him. Dancing for the kids. Cleaning the house and setting up for a Christmas party with less than a day’s notice.
Being Uncle Dex with all of the finely-honed parenting skills he’d practiced at Johnnies, keeping his guys as together as they could possibly get.
Very carefully, Kane adjusted the camera and zoomed in. John and Ethan were getting the class from the side, and Frances was actually still in this shot, and there was Dex, making eye contact and putting on a rubber nose and wearing a Santa hat and being a dad.
Kane watched them both, watched Frances respond to Dex as she did her dance, watched Dex playing along. He’d wanted this as a little kid—he remembered that. But they didn’t have such a push to include parents who didn’t speak English, and his folks had stayed home, embarrassed, feeling excluded, just like chubby little Carlos with the hare lip.
But not Frances. She was in front, mouth open, eyes alight, and when this was done they would crowd their home with friends—with family.
Because David Worrall was a shining light who tried so hard to guide his people to a good place. And because Kane had seized him by the back of the neck and said, “Here. This is a good place, with me. We are a good place.”
Watching him now, Kane was amazed at his own good sense. He’d never thought of himself as smart, but God, grabbing Dex and holding him tight and saying, “Any way that gets us to sleep in the same bed is the right way,” was the most brilliant fucking move in the history of ever.
The song ended and Dex came back and resumed taping, then he left again for the finale. Kane zoomed in on him again, and his phone buzzed.
You’re getting that, right? John asked.
Yeah. No worries. Can we edit a version with and a version without?
There was a pause, probably as John did something technical.
But the song ended then, and then the rest of the classes came up on stage for the finale. Dex danced again and the balloons fell from the sky with the confetti, and two-hundred Pre-K through 3rd graders jumped up and down and cheered.
John tried to talk to Kane immediately afterwards but they got cornered by Mrs. Richards, who seemed to make John as uncomfortable as she made Dex.
“Mr. Ramirez, so good to see you. I understand you helped with the filming—that was kind of you. Kind of all of you.” She beamed her smile up at John, who gave a panicked grimace back. “And which uncle are you?”
“I’m Uncle John,” he said, ducking his head in apology. “My boyfriend, Galen, donated the balloons.” Galen made his way to John’s side just then, his cane absent, but his limp very much in the present.
“Mr. Henderson, thank you so much.”
Galen smiled a gallant smile, teeth even and white in his goateed countenance, and tipped his head with genteel grace. “It was very much my pleasure, ma’am. John and I adore Frances, and we were happy to help.”
“Well you certainly gave a certain pizzazz to our little presentation,” she said. “I’m hoping our advertisement in the pamphlet gave you some business.”
Galen dimpled charmingly, the scar on his cheek not stopping the smoothness of his smile one iota. “This was a friend doing a favor,” he said, “but it’s kind of you to hope.”
“Yo, Kane,” Ethan said, striding up with his equipment in a black case. “Am I giving this back to Dex, or John, or just taking it to your place for the afterward.”
“Their place,” John said promptly. “I’ll gather it there and bring it in tomorrow. Thanks Ethan—I saw your feed, there. Good job.”
Ethan’s boyish Italian face flushed the color of cherry-vanilla. “Jonah did most of it,” he said. “I just held the camera up to catch the kids as they came in.”
Jonah appeared at Ethan’s side, personally close, probably to make up for not touching. “Team effort,” he said happily. “But yeah—my noodly little arms get tired with the fourth class, you know?” Jonah had filled out considerably since the year before—Kane suspected he just liked to give Ethan a reason to feel useful.
“Where’s Dex?” Tommy asked, and now, even Kane could see the humor, because Bobby and Reg joined them too, as well as Mrs. Bobby’s Mom. Reg was probably the shortest of all of them, at 5’8” or so, and he was still way bigger than Mrs. Richards, who was starting to look like the tiny queen of all the giant pretty worker bees. Chase was standing a little behind Tommy, the baby asleep on his shoulder, and Kane could suddenly see why Dex might want some peace after this shindig. He was looking forward to getting all these people to Dex’s house where they belonged.
“He’s still talking to Frances’s classmates,” Kane said, knowing his face went soft and not caring. Dex had brought candy canes with little figurines at the end, and he was busy passing them out to the pre-schoolers—but he damned well could have been signing autographs because they were all doing their parts over just for him to see specifically so he could know they were doing the same thing.
“I saw him dancing,” Kelsey said, drawing near with her stroller. She was dressed prettily, in jeans and a white sequined shirt. Kane had seen the baby when they’d first come in, and Audrey, Chance, and Frances needed a photo with their matching outfits. Text messaging and pictures were a wonderful thing when three different people were shopping at three different Targets, Kane honestly believed that. “Tell me you got it on camera.”
Kane shrugged. “Maybe,” he said cagily, winking at her. She frowned for a moment, but nodded, and he could see the “Save for later,” expression on her face.
“So, do you all work together?” Mrs. Richards asked, sounding confused, and the silence was so sudden and electric Kane could have cut it with a spatula.
“Yes ma’am,” Reg said congenially from John’s elbow. “We work for John—he runs a media company for self-produced videos. We all met there.”
Mrs. Richards frowned for a moment and then another woman—middle-aged, dressed flamboyantly, with dyed black hair– waved for her attention. “Well, I’d love to talk to all of you to figure out what that means,” she said diplomatically, “but my principal needs me. Thank you all so much for coming—we look forward to seeing you at Frances’s presentation in the future.”
She walked away and their entire collective gave a sigh of relief.
“Reg, that was brilliant,” Ethan said sincerely—and brilliant wasn’t a word often used in conjunction with Reg. “Where did you get that?”
Reg no longer worked in porn, but not because John made him quit as he neared thirty. Modestly built, averagely handsome, Reg had been a Johnnies favorite because he radiated “decent guy”, and sometimes, people just liked to see themselves in porn. He smiled winsomely and shrugged, until Mrs. Bobby’s Mom turned around and smacked him in the back of the head.
“I know where he got that,” she said direly, while Reg rubbed his head and smiled sheepishly at her, but before he could explain any more, Dex approached, a triumphant Frances on his shoulders.
“Hey everyone, are we ready to go? Miss Frances Bunny has asked for Christmas cookies and hot chocolate, right?”
There was much applause and accolades before everybody headed for their cars, but John and Kelsey both shot Kane a look like they had unfinished conversations.
“So, what gives?” John asked quietly, as he and Kane sat at the kitchen table at home later that night. “I mean cutting the video is no problem—why don’t you want Dex in it?”
Kane swallowed and tried to put it into words.
“Because it’s ours,” he said at last. “I mean, we both did our time showing everything to everybody. That Dexter on the feed? Only the people in this room get to see him, you know?”
John’s face softened, his wicked green eyes growing thoughtful. Kane had really hated John for a long time, but since he got back from rehab, he’d worked hard on that amends part, and this moment here, this felt like a reward for both of them.
Because John got it. “Understood,” he said quietly. “As long as the people in this room get that shot too.”
Kane smiled quietly. “Well, yeah. Cause he’s our Dexter, right?”
“Right. I’ll tell Kelsey.”
“Our” Dexter, but only Kane’s “Davy”. But that wasn’t a thing Kane had to point out to John anymore, or ever again. And that really was a reward.
The gathering could have ended much later—and a year ago, it would have. But that was before people had become mommies and daddies and lovers and happy. All these happy people had happy homes to go to now, and that thought gave Kane a lot of joy—and Dex a lot of peace.
When the last person had left and the last paper plate thrown away and the last mug put in the dishwasher, Kane took one last look at Frances, who had fallen asleep so hard she hadn’t even stirred as they’d taken off her dress and put her in her little footie pajamas.
Kane got into bed completely naked and turned off the light, watching in the light from the backyard window as Dex undressed.
“Underwear too,” Kane said throatily.
“Really?” Dex yawned but took off his boxers dutifully and shoved them under the pillow for an easy find later. He hopped into bed quickly, because it was chilly in the house after Dex turned the thermostat down like an adult, and Kane delighted in rubbing his warm hands over Dex’s cool skin.
“Really,” Kane whispered, taking his mouth with no hesitation whatsoever. Dex moaned, and Kane rolled on top of him, their bare skin feeding their souls, energizing them, filling Kane with light and motivation.
This man loved him. This man made their family whole. Kane wanted him, all of him, right here and now.
Dex melted in his arms, like he often did when his life had gotten too busy with directing and planning and worrying about all the things, like he did so he could make all the things perfect.
Dex’s job was fixing the world, but Kane’s job was, and always had been, fixing Dex.
Kane set about to fix him, kiss by kiss, and Dex wrapped his thighs around Kane’s hips and bucked against him, flailing and needy. So much to fix tonight. Kane shivered deliciously.
“Calm down, Dexter,” he whispered, grinding up against him. Their cocks met and slid together, the touch teasing and carnal, and Dex let out a soft whimper.
“I know, I know,” Kane replied, sliding down his body, pulling on his nipples, one at a time, enjoying how responsive he was. He knew Dex had fucked all the guys and more than all the guys before they’d hooked up, but he also knew, in a very basic way, that what he and Dex did in bed together was theirs and theirs alone.
Kane’s mouth on Dex’s skin was electric pleasure, and much of that electricity came from the rich source of it being exquisitely private.
Dex tried to hold back his moans, his little gasps of arousal, but Kane wasn’t having any of that. He pulled Dex’s cock into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction, going to work on it with all the expertise in his arsenal.
“Kane!” Dex whispered, hips coming off the bed as Kane took him deep into the back of his mouth. Kane slurped dirtily up, plying his tongue and lips on the head before letting him go with a pop.
“Scream into the pillow, Davy,” Kane said seriously. “I ain’t holding back, not tonight.”
Dex let out a little whimper but did what he was ordered. Kane kept sucking his cock, grunting with his own arousal because Dex’s cock was one of his favorite things. When Kane’s own erection grew too hard, too dripping and too damned close, Kane shoved at Dex’s thighs with his shoulders.
“Spread ‘em,” he demanded roughly, and held out his hand.
Dex knew the drill and passed the lube without fumbling. His knees splayed wantonly and he plucked his own nipples, body so primed Kane could feel the fine tremble in his thighs.
Kane lubed his cock but not Dex’s entrance, because a little burn, a little rough, that was how possessive Kane was feeling tonight, and Dex could take it—would love it—and they knew that about each other now.
He slid inside, gently, letting Dex stretch, accommodate, squeeze the holy hell out of Kane like a reprimand for Kane’s intrusion.
Sometimes Kane liked being reprimanded—and spanking was good too.
Dex let out a sound of total submission and Kane drove all the way home. And again. And again. And harder and faster and as deep as he could.
This dance wasn’t new, not to them, not between them, but it seemed to grow more powerful, more important every time they fucked. Dex gave a cry, like he was struggling, and Kane was so close. He moved Dex’s fist down to his own cock and continued to plunder.
At the touch of both their fingers on the head, Dex bit into his own palm and screamed, his climax arcing out of him, spurting between them, hot and salty. Kane couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t keep pounding him into another climax, as bad as he wanted to, because he was cresting, surging, his orgasm washing over him, making his eyes roll back in his head, squeezing every muscle in his body until he exploded, deep, deep inside this man he loved with every cell in his body.
He collapsed with a little moan, still bucking. In the darkness he could see patches of damp on Dex’s chest, where his come landed, and he licked at one of those places hungrily as the last shudder spent.
For a moment, he just breathed on Dex, wishing he could stay inside him forever.
“Yeah, I know.” One more minute.
“Okay. Just don’t want you to get cold.”
“I know, Davy. Just…” He ground fruitlessly, already growing soft.
“I know, Carlos.” Dex’s hands moved in his hair and Kane pulled out so he could move up the bed and kiss him.
“Know what?” he asked, finding the comforter at the base of the bed and pulling it up over them.
“I love you too.”
They kissed again—fell asleep kissing—and settled for tissues by the bed instead of a washcloth. Kane just didn’t want to let him out of his arms.
* * *
Dex stared at the video in mortification.
“So, this isn’t the one we’re copying for the school?” he asked, his face hot. He had ridiculously fair skin—he probably looked like a raspberry.
“No,” John said, a small smile on his face. “I mean, we cut in a shot of all the parent volunteers, because that’s only fair, but almost all of the closups of you have been deleted from the public disc. Only your friends get to see this version. It’s a shame, because you’re cute as hell, but Kane asked, and I agreed.”
“Why?” The film was at the part where they bent over and shook their tushes and then peeked over their shoulders. Dex’s ass was getting fat—he needed to work out more and eat cookies less, but his schedule was busy and Kane kept making cookies, dammit!
“Because this is family and friend Dex,” John said, dropping a purely platonic kiss in his hair before he moved to the doorway of their joined office. “And nobody gets to see that guy without permission.” John winked and left the office, leaving Dex to watch the Family/Friend version of the video in ass-wiggling embarrassment.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Whatcha doin’, Dexter?
Kane. Dex had been thinking about the night before with a sweet ache in his chest all day. It had been beautiful. Their sex was always awesome, but sometimes, even between lovers, sex was just sex. Last night had been one of those moments when every touch had been perfection. Dex had only had that kind of sex with Kane.
Watching me wiggling my ass. I’m getting fat.
Shut up. You were fucking adorable. I’m gonna watch that video every day for a month.
Psycho. He probably would too. I’ll give you a live performance instead, Dex texted, smiling softly.
Even better. Love you, Davy.
Proving that Kane got it in ways no other lover could.
Love you, Carlos.
See you tonight.
Counting on it.
Dex looked back at the video, and Frances in her adorable velveteen dress. Tonight would be Christmas specials and turkeyburgers and leaning on Kane’s chest on the couch with Frances on their laps.
Nobody would see, nobody would cheer, nobody would know or care.
Except the people in his life who mattered most.
Dex loved this video. Next year, he wanted one of Kane.
Meet Amy Lane!
Amy Lane has two kids in college, two gradeschoolers in soccer, two cats, and two Chi-who-whats at large. She lives in a crumbling crapmansion with most of the children and a bemused spouse. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and m/m romance–and if you accidentally make eye contact, she’ll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She’ll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.
Want to purchase Amy’s novels?
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