The Imperfection of Swans (22 page)

He couldn’t believe this was actually his real life.

Finally.

Finally, but so much sooner than he’d thought possible.

CASPER AND
Kevin stopped for a late dinner before going to the bar. A BBQ pulled pork sandwich for him and a kale salad for Kevin, dressing on the side. Vinaigrette dressing. Who ordered vinaigrette dressing on the side?

They’d decided to make a night of it. Originally they’d thought the bridal convention had a banquet on the final evening, but Kevin had read the information wrong, so they had an extra night.

Through a quick GayCities search, Casper had found a trendy gay bar in Chelsea that had a Broadway tunes sing-along every Monday evening, complete with happy-hour prices.

Kevin had squealed when Casper told him where they were going. Squealed. How a handsome man could squeal at the top of his lungs and still look sexy, Casper had no idea, even though he’d witnessed it.

Now, three drinks in, Casper was having similar thoughts. Kevin was more than a little tipsy, and what had started as a concerted effort to harmonize with Oklahoma’s “Let People Say We’re in Love” had turned into a full-blown Broadway audition for Mamma Mia’s “Honey, Honey.”

In addition to somehow maintaining his masculine sex appeal as his voice soared in feminine falsetto, Kevin also managed to be the loudest queen in the room without being obnoxious. In fact, Casper was fairly certain that every man in the bar had fallen in love with Kevin too.

Not
that Casper was in love with Kevin. There was a big difference between being in love and simply lusting after someone. And that’s all he felt for Kevin. Lust. Pure and simple. And like lust must, it would fade. It would. Over time, it would fade.

It had to.

Kevin bumped into the high-top table, spilling some of the drinks he’d just brought back. “Oops. Sorry about that!”

Casper held up his glass. “Kev, I haven’t even finished my last one.”

“Oh well.” He smiled a self-satisfied smile. “More for me, then.” Despite being drunk, or at least well on his way, it seemed Kevin didn’t slur, either when speaking or singing. “Are you going to come up front with me and dance this time?”

“You seemed to be doing a spectacular job on your own. Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone attempt to twerk to ‘How do You Solve a Problem Like Maria’ before.”

“Nailed it.” Kevin whapped the table, spilling more of the liquor.

Casper couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes. You certainly did.”

A huge man moved up from behind Casper, walked around the table, and stood behind Kevin, then wrapped his arm over Kevin’s chest. The man’s own chest was bare and covered in sweaty hair.

Kevin grimaced. “Whoa, slow down there, Mary. Gotta pay before you sample the merchandise.”

“I’ll pay whatever you ask, hot man. I bet you make one hell of a power bottom.” There was no teasing in the man’s voice.

Kevin wriggled free. “Okay, number one, gross. We’re not at the gym—dry off. And two, I am not a power bottom. I expect the top to work harder than I do if you’re getting any of this!” He pointed to his ass, raised his drink in the air, and nearly hopped away toward the front of the room to take his place by the screen where Audrey Hepburn was singing about feeling like dancing all night.

The man looked over at Casper. “If you took off those glasses, you’d be pretty fuckable too.”

Despite Kevin’s reaction, the man’s sweaty, hairy chest had looked pretty good to Casper.
Had
being the operative word. “Oh wow. Thanks. Haven’t had a compliment like that in a while.”

Apparently the man didn’t understand sarcasm. That, or Casper wasn’t as adept at it as he thought he was. “You’re about your friend’s size. You’d be a decent power bottom too.”

“When I bottom, which is rare, I promise you, I’m more than a
decent
power bottom.”

The man started to move back around the table.

Casper held up his hand. “My friend and I are together, so you might want to look elsewhere.”

“Please, the size you two are, I could take both of you home and still have enough left to bring in a fourth.” He motioned around the room. “I’ll even let you pick ’em.”

From the corner of his eye, Casper saw a Clark Kent clone flirting with Kevin. Of course Kevin would get a near Superman, and Casper would end up with Bluto from
Popeye
. Any attraction to the man had been replaced by repulsion.

Without answering, Casper picked up his drink, slid off the stool, and made his way toward Kevin.

“Bitch.”

Casper channeled
Dreamgirls
, spun around with his free hand in the air, and snapped. “You know it, gurl.” Then he continued on his way, making sure to put some swing in his too-narrow hips.

Good God, if his mom could see him right now… she’d probably call James Dobson personally.

By the time Casper made it to the front of the room, Kevin had already dismissed the Superman wannabe. “You about ready?”

The question surprised him. He’d thought Kevin would likely want to close out the bar. “Really?”

Kevin seemed to have sobered a bit. “Yeah. The music’s fun, but I’m not really in the mood to be manhandled. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good manhandling, but not here.”

Casper had no idea how to respond to that. He was relieved, though. What had started out as fun had moved into seedy fairly quickly. And not the good kind of seedy. The last thing he wanted to do was watch a long string of guys flirt with Kevin when he couldn’t even do it himself.

Kevin grasped his hand and pulled. “Come on. Let’s get a cab.”

The cab ride actually brought a little fun back into the evening, lifting the heavy mood that had settled over them. Casper told Kevin about some of the ideas he’d been playing around with, trying to do a broader wedding scheme than simply cakes.

Kevin was enthusiastic about everything Casper brought up. “I think that’s a great idea. Not only will it bring more people into the shop, but you could also provide those for wedding rehearsal dinners and engagement parties and such. The bride could pick a theme or taste profile or whatever you call it, and have every event leading up to the wedding match, culminating with the gown and wedding cake.”

“Oh, I like where you’re going with this.” Casper’s mind was starting to move quicker than his words, an experience he always enjoyed. “Charu and I could start working on several base flavor profiles to choose from. Even some savory ones. There’s this pear cake recipe that has gorgonzola icing. It’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

He laughed at Kevin’s shuddering expression. “That sounds like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“It’s amazing, trust me. However, it’s not for everyone. Just like you were talking about on the wedding-dress-pantsuit-corset thingy, we need a few items that make us stand out. We can’t just do endless chocolate, white, and lemon flavored cakes. We gotta keep it fresh.”

“Fair enough. That makes sense. Actually that cake sounds like something Noelle would like.” Kevin bounced a bit in the seat with excitement. “Oh! I forgot to tell you one of the ideas I had during one of the fashion shows. What if we put a runway down the middle of the shop? Really show off how the gowns move and such.”

Casper wasn’t able to catch himself in time to keep from making a grimace.

“No?”

He held up his hands. “You’re the wedding dress expert, and I’m sure you’d be able to pull it off, but I just can’t see a runway working with the aesthetic you said you’re going for.”

Kevin slumped a bit. “Yeah, I had the same thought actually.”

“Well, I’m sure you’d be able to pull it off. You’re a lot classier than me.”

“Oh, how about this instead.” Kevin’s eyes grew large with excitement again, making him even more beautiful. “What if we had a runway, but only bring it out every quarter or something. We could have these big wedding gown events. Have a fashion show of our own, send out invitations, serve champagne”—he motioned toward Casper—“you could make little hors d’oeuvres that coincide with whatever collections we are exhibiting!”

They planned the rest of the way to the hotel, at times thrilling at the other’s idea, and then slipping into laughter at some far-fetched fiasco waiting to happen.

The excitement continued all the way through arriving back to the hotel, getting to their room, and preparing for bed.

The laughter stopped when Casper exited the bathroom after brushing his teeth and bumped into Kevin, who was sliding the door chain into place. They stood there awkwardly, both forgetting how to move.

Casper was the first to regain his mobility, but it was his hands, not his feet, that mastered the ability first. He’d like to blame the alcohol, but he hadn’t had that much.

He lifted his right hand and placed it on Kevin’s cheek, moving his thumb over Kevin’s short, dark stubble.

Their breathing increased. A light sweat broke out on Casper’s forehead.

He waited for Kevin to pull away, but Kevin didn’t.

Casper lifted his other hand to hold Kevin’s other cheek, but let it freeze in midair. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

The reaction was instant, Kevin nearly launching himself the few inches separating them, flinging his arms around Casper’s neck and crushing their lips together.

At the impact, Casper was forced backward. Thankfully, his back collided with the bathroom doorjamb, and they didn’t end up falling onto the tile floor. He slid slightly to his right so their weight was supported by the wall.

Casper moved his hand from Kevin’s cheek to the back of his head, pulling him in deeper. Kevin’s body was hard against his, his full lips soft and demanding, breath tasting of alcohol.

After a moment, he pulled away, and Casper wanted to cry out and pull him back to his body.

Instead of leaving, Kevin grabbed the hem of Casper’s T-shirt and pulled upward. In an awkward tangle of arms, the shirt was pulled over his head, and then Kevin’s lips were back on his once more.

Casper groaned into Kevin’s mouth as Kevin moved his hands between them, feeling every inch of Casper’s exposed skin.

Their erections smashed into each other with as much force as their lips. Without even realizing he was doing so, Casper’s hips began to thrust slowly, grinding into Kevin’s weight. At the motion, Kevin bit Casper’s bottom lip, hard.

Casper cried out in surprised pain.

Kevin released, drew back for a breath, then began kissing Casper again.

Kevin’s back was solid curves, his muscles bunching under Casper’s hands as Casper ran them down Kevin’s body. When he reached the waistband of Kevin’s sweats, he only paused for a heartbeat before plunging his hands inside, each one grasping a firm globe and lifting him up.

Leaning back, Kevin groaned, making a thrusting motion of his own, pressing against Casper’s stomach.

A few more thrusts, and Casper pushed his hands deeper, exploring. When his finger found Kevin’s puckered opening, he pressed against it.

“God yes!” Kevin arched back, forcing the tip of Casper’s finger inside.

At the invasion, Kevin’s eyes widened, and his body stopped moving.

The room suddenly felt cold.

Casper removed his finger and pulled his hands out of the back of Kevin’s sweats while placing him back on the ground.

They stared at each other for a moment before Kevin’s cheeks darkened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I don’t know how…. Alcohol.” He stepped around Casper, went into the bathroom, and shut the door.

Feeling dirty, Casper crossed the room and got into his bed, then reached up to shut off the light on his side of the room.

It felt like forever before he heard the bathroom door click. He was still hard, so he quickly rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.

CASPER DIDN’T
fall asleep for even a minute for the rest of the night. And judging from Kevin’s breathing, neither did he.

The car ride was in complete and awkward silence the next morning.

KEVIN

THE FIRST
of May matched Kevin’s mood. The cloudy skies offered a spattering of spring showers here and there, but mainly they just blocked out the sun. If he were being honest, it wasn’t just that day. He’d been stuck in that dark space for the week and a half since New York. His anxiety was through the roof, his stomach might as well be a witch’s cauldron for the acid it was producing, and he was fairly certain the bags under his eyes had filed paperwork claiming squatter’s rights on his face.

To make matters worse, he had no place to get away. Jamaica Plains had his moms, where Renata would harp about why he looked so terrible and Noelle would try to feed him back to happiness. Bella Dolce had the source of his gloomy mood living on the top floor. And Scott’s place had Scott. The only time he had any space was at the gym, and even that was getting difficult. Before New York, he’d made a concerted effort to eat enough to keep up appearances, but that was no longer a motivator, at least at the moment. Plus, eating only made his stomach churn out more bile. Between stress and his inability to eat, even the gym wasn’t much of a possibility. He’d work out for barely an hour and then feel like he was going to pass out, and another emergency room visit was the last thing he needed.