Outsider (19 page)

Ethan
rubbed a hand over his jaw. Now there was an idea. But how exactly did he pull
that off?

“I
suggest you come out with the truth, honesty being the best policy and all
that.”

Ethan
chuckled. “You sound just like your son.”

“Which
one?”

“Both
of them, actually, but especially Dare.”

“I
guess their mother and I did something right.”

If
Ethan had openly been anything like Dare or Trey, his mother and stepfather
would have disowned him.

Dr.
Mills ushered Ethan inside and closed the door behind them with a comforting click.
No photographers there, just an amazing assortment of colorful and bizarre
artwork. Brilliant sunlight filtered down from a glass dome in the ceiling,
highlighting paintings and sculptures and fragments of colored tiles forming
murals on the foyer walls and pillars and floor. Even the tiered table at the
center of it all appeared to be a mixed-media sculpture of some sort, with a
giant saw blade at its center, several additional smaller blades forming
additional platforms, and an eclectic set of chairs ranging from antique wood
to a child-size red PVC chair to form the piece’s many legs. It reminded Ethan
of some deadly alien insect.

“My
wife won’t be happy until every inch of this enormous house has her stamp on
it.” Dr. Mills set his briefcase down on the largest saw blade. The sharp edges
were covered with a protective clear plastic. Ethan imagined Trey running
around this dangerous-looking thing as a child and shuddered.

“Gwen,
sweetheart,” Dr. Mills called into the cavernous house. “Come out, come out,
wherever you are.”

Ethan
was still gawking at one of the wall murals, finding that up close, the tiles
were interspersed with bottle caps and bolt washers and bits of broken compact
disks that added shine to the fish scales in the design.

“This
is remarkable,” Ethan said.

“Trey
inherited all of his talents from his mother,” Dr. Mills said.

Probably
not all of his talents. Ethan stifled a wry grin. He was pretty sure that
talented tongue of Trey’s was a learned skill, not an inherited one. Then
again, Dr. Mills seemed a very happy man. Maybe Trey had inherited such skills
from his mother.

Disturbed
by the direction of his thoughts, Ethan wandered into the parlor off the left
of the foyer. Trey found him there a few minutes later, examining the fireplace
mantel.

“I
was wondering where you were,” Trey said. “Genevieve is making a cherry
cobbler. You won’t want to miss it.”

“
You
won’t want to miss it,” Ethan said, patting Trey’s back. “You must have had a
very . . . uh . . . 
colorful
childhood.”

Trey
tilted his head as he studied the faces along the sides of the mantel. They’d
been fashioned from chips of colored bricks and were easily identifiable as
Trey at various ages on the left side and a progressively aging Dare on the
right.

“You
know, she didn’t start going crazy with the house until after Dare and I were
grown and out on our own.” His smile was a little sad. “I think she misses us.”

“She’d
probably like a few grandchildren in her future,” Ethan said.

“That’s
up to Dare.” Trey laughed. “And believe me, she hounds him about it
constantly.”

“Where’s
Reagan?” Ethan asked.

“Listening
to my mom gab. The poor woman lived in a house full of boys and men her entire
adult life. She’s overwhelmingly happy to have a woman in the family.” Trey
wrapped an arm around Ethan’s shoulders and leaned in close. “Though I’m sure
she’ll love you just as much. Assuming you stop isolating yourself.”

“Is
that what I’m doing?”

“Isn’t
it?”

Ethan
shrugged. “There’s a lot to see in this house. Amazing things. I’ve never seen
a home like this before.”

“There’s
no other place like it.” Trey slid a hand up Ethan’s chest until his palm
covered Ethan’s heart. It began to thud at the promise in Trey’s eyes. “Do you
want to check out the pool behind the house? Mom’s murals started there. You
can see how her work has progressed with time.”

“I’d
like that.”

“And
I can see you without your shirt on.”

Trey’s
other hand slid up under Ethan’s shirt, his fingers skimming over Ethan’s bare
belly. The muscles there tightened as unanticipated waves of lust clenched deep
inside Ethan.

“Trey,”
Ethan protested as his touch grew bolder. “Not here.”

“Would
you like to see my bedroom?” Trey deftly unfastened the button of Ethan’s
pants.

“What
are you—”

Trey
nipped the sensitive flesh at Ethan’s throat, causing Ethan to suck an excited
breath through his teeth.

“I
feel safe here,” Trey said. “I want you to feel that way too.”

“What
I’m feeling,” Ethan said, drawing Trey’s seeking hand from his pants, “is
uncomfortable. Your parents could walk in at any moment.”

“That’s
why I wanted to show you my bedroom,” he said. “I’ll lock the door.”

“Trey . . .”

“If
you don’t want to fuck me . . .”

Oh,
but he did. Just not here.

“. . . I’d
settle for a hand job.”

Trey
took Ethan’s hand and led him away from the childhood shrine fireplace mantel
and back into the foyer. Ethan could hear voices and laughter from deeper in the
house, but they didn’t go in that direction. They followed a set of curved
marble steps to the second floor. Ethan might have paid more attention to the
series of paintings along the hall’s lengthy wall if Trey hadn’t been walking
backwards in front of him, holding his gaze as securely as he was holding his
hand. The naughty imp was going to get far more than a hand job if he kept
looking at Ethan with that fuck-me-hard expression on his face.

Trey
opened a door near the end of the hall and tugged Ethan inside. He closed the
door quietly behind them and locked it with a barely audible click. The room
was large, its deep-red walls decorated with large posters of rock bands—many
that Ethan didn’t recognize. A collage of photos hung over a sturdy black dresser.
Ethan recognized a teenaged Trey and Dare, and in almost every shot, someone he
wished he didn’t recognize—Brian Sinclair. Familiar but unwanted jealousy
clawed at Ethan’s gut, and he jerked his gaze away from the images of fun and
friendship and easily recognizable love.

“He
took my virginity in this room,” Trey said, standing beside Ethan now, smiling
fondly at the photographs.

“Is
that why you brought me here?” Ethan asked, backing away. “I don’t want to hear
this.”

Trey
caught his arm. “I need you to hear it, Ethan. I’ve never told anyone the
details of what happened that night, not even my brother. But I want you to
know, because . . .”

Trey
blinked back a sudden flood of tears and Ethan crushed him against his chest.
“Don’t do that.”

Trey
sniffed against Ethan’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Ethan’s
arms tightened around him. “No, I’m sorry. You can cry on my shoulder any time
you need to.”

“I
shouldn’t be this emotional,” he murmured. “I’m over Brian now. Our past
shouldn’t matter to me anymore.”

Ethan’s
embrace tightened. He wished he could believe that Trey was truly over Brian,
but he could almost guarantee that Trey’s past with his first love would always
matter to him. And that was okay. Ethan was the one holding Trey now; Brian
hadn’t wanted him. Ethan was sorry that fact had hurt Trey so many times in the
past, but he was secretly glad that his competition for Trey’s affection had
never taken the heart so recklessly thrown in his direction.

“Tell
me what you brought me here to say,” Ethan said, struggling to keep his embrace
from crushing Trey.

“Brian
used to spend the night here a lot when we were in school. His dad wasn’t home
much and his mom was
cold
—there’s no other way to describe her. My
parents are . . . You’ve met them. They’re free with their affection.
Brian was like another son to them.”

“Did
you have feelings for him from the beginning?” Why was he asking that? Did he
really want to be as jealous of the teenaged Brian as he was of the adult
version?

“Since
fifth grade?” Trey pulled away so he could see Ethan’s eyes. Humor teased the
corner of Trey’s sensual mouth. “I’m not that obsessed.”

“When?”

“I
don’t think it was until that night. Or maybe the second.”

“How
many times—”

“Just
those two.” Trey grinned crookedly. “Not for my lack of trying. I can’t count
how many times I threw myself at him. I made a complete fool of myself.”

“Didn’t
he get tired of rejecting you?”

Trey
chuckled. “I guess not. Maybe he liked the attention.”

“He
probably misses it,” Ethan said.

“He’s
probably relieved.” Trey laughed. “We were always better as friends than as
lovers. I can’t deny that.”

“I
won’t be upset if you tell me he sucks in bed.”

Trey
laughed and kissed him. “At the time, I thought it was amazing, but now that
I’ve had you . . .” His lips caressed Ethan’s jaw.

“I’m
sure you’ve had better.”

“Never.”
Trey’s lips moved to Ethan’s throat. “You and Reagan are the best thing that’s
ever happened to me.”

“Same
here.”

Trey
went still, his voice low and calm as he said, “It started like any other
night. Brian and I practiced guitar for a while. We had dinner with my family.
We came up to my room to play a video game or something. We decided it would be
fun to sneak some booze, so I lifted a bottle from my dad’s liquor cabinet. We
drank vodka—a lot of vodka—and were goofing around on the Internet. We ended up
watching porn. Not too unusual for a couple of fifteen-year-old boys left to
their own devices.”

“If
I’d have had internet as a teen, I’d have never left my room,” Ethan said with
a chuckle.

“Brian
got really turned on by this chick getting fucked in the ass. I don’t know if
he’d never seen anal before or what, but the tent in his pajama bottoms was
impossible to ignore. I told him he could whack off in front of me if he needed
to. We were friends. it was no big deal. I really didn’t think it was a big
deal until he pulled it out and started stroking it. I’d never been so turned
on in my life, even though I was confused by my excitement. I wanted him doing
to me what that girl in the video was having done to her. So I offered to touch
him with my hand in a sock, because, you know, I wouldn’t be actually touching
it, so that was okay.”

Ethan
chuckled. “That’s totally not gay.”

Trey
grinned at him. “I know, right? He was really getting into it—me jerking him
off with that sock—and I was so hard, my stomach was in knots. He liked what I
was doing even more when I pulled off the sock. Even more when I kissed his
dick, licked it, sucked it, got my first taste of his pre-cum.”

Ethan
remembered his first homosexual experience all too well. But he’d been on the
receiving end. His partner had sucked him off in the front seat of their police
cruiser while they’d been staking out a suspected meth lab.

“I
pulled my pants down, wanting a little reciprocation, you know,” Trey said.

“Naturally.”

“Next
thing I know, he presses me against the side of the bed, holds my wrists behind
my back, and shoves his cock in my ass. He kept saying,
pretend you’re a
girl, pretend you’re a girl
. I didn’t want to pretend I was a girl. I
wanted him to reach around and stroke my dick while he fucked me, but he
wouldn’t touch me.”

“That’s
disappointing.”

“I
don’t know; he’s hung. He fucked me to orgasm even though he didn’t have any
idea what he was doing.”

“You’re
supposed to tell me that he sucks in bed, remember?”

“If
that experience hadn’t opened my eyes to the pleasure of being fucked
senseless, I’d say it wasn’t perfect, but I’d be lying. I came so hard, I swear
I blacked out for a few seconds. And when Brian recognized how much I liked
being fucked, he came inside me. I thought he’d liked it too—as much as I
did—but he completely freaked out afterwards. He hid in the bathroom for over
an hour. Meanwhile, I dipped my fingers into the load I’d blown all over the
side of my bed and shoved my fingers up my ass so our cum could mingle inside
me. How fucked up is that?”

“It’s
more fucked up that he left you there. What did he say when he finally came
back?”

“Nothing.
I pretended to be asleep. The next day we acted like nothing had happened
between us.”

“That
must have been hard for you.”

Trey
shrugged. “Not really. I just blew it off as a onetime mistake. It was our
second time together that really fucked with my head.”

“Did
he pretend you were a girl that time?”