When Tony Met Adam (Short Story) (3 page)

He finally looked up, and there actually may have been real concern in his eyes. Or maybe Tony just wanted to see it there.

“I have no clue,” Tony admitted, and it felt strange, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked about his personal life with anyone besides the man he was currently dating. “But I gotta, you know. Follow my heart.”

Adam was ready when Tony rang the bell.

He’d deliberately left his apartment I-don’t-give-a-shit messy, even though he’d had plenty of time to empty and load the dishwasher and to throw away the take-out food containers and pizza boxes that cluttered his kitchen counters. He could have moved in slow-motion, and still had time to make his bed and to pick the dirty laundry up off of his bedroom and bathroom floors.

Instead, he’d left the place looking like crap. Instead, he’d sat in front of his big-screen TV and played
Grand Theft Auto
until even playing the video game Jules’s crazy way could no longer hold his attention. He’d made himself a sandwich with the last of the ham and cheese in his fridge, and he’d eaten standing up. But the bread was stale, and his hunger waned before he’d finished even half of it. So he left it there, right on the counter without a plate, along with the deli wrappers and the mustard.

About a quarter to ten, he’d gotten extra antsy, so he’d added to the shithole-of-an-asshole effect, further dressing the set by opening a bottle of wine and pouring just a splash into two long-stemmed glasses. He carried them both into his bedroom, took a sip from one and drained the other. He set them both on the same bedside table, where they sat—a matched set with a pointed message. He would have opened a condom or two, tossed the rolled rubbers into the kitchen trash so he could leave the empty wrappers behind with the wineglasses, a very loud
hey, look what
I
did last night
, but he was running low.

And he was going to need at least two.

Only two, he quickly corrected himself. This was going to be a one-time event, and it was going to be over fast.

Besides, the kid probably wouldn’t even see the wineglasses until after he’d grabbed Adam and thrown him onto the bed and … How had he put it?
Fucked his brains out
. Jesus.

Adam had had a hard-on for hours now, ever since Tony had rasped those words into his ear. He hadn’t believed he was capable anymore of this kind of anticipation and physical excitement, but he’d also never believed he’d go for so many months living like a freaking monk. And not just living like a monk because he’d stopped having sex, but living like a monk because he’d started spending nearly all of his time thinking long and hard about the how’s and why’s behind his abject failure in getting the one thing—the one person, really—that he’d ever absolutely, truly wanted.

Which was the love and worship of his fellow actor, Robin Chadwick, who was now ecstatically happily married to Adam’s very own ex, FBI agent Jules Cassidy.

But was it really Robin Adam had wanted, or something else?

He was pretty certain it was Robin, but also pretty certain that the reasons he’d wanted the man so badly weren’t even close to being pure. A love unlike any he’d ever felt before was in there, sure, but it was twisted and entwined with the definitely evil darkness that could, at times, consume him.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about that, too—about how it was that he was able to come up with—so quickly—seemingly reasonable excuses for why he did the assholish things he did.

And yet here he was again. Doing just that. Inviting Tony over.

But there were no two ways about it. It
was
the best way to get the kid out of his life, both quickly and painlessly. In fact, pain wasn’t going to play a very large part in this. It was going to be mostly pleasure.

And not just for Adam.

Tony wanted this hookup as much as Adam did. In fact, when everything was said and done, it was probably the
only
thing he wanted from Adam. For all he knew, the kid was a star collector, and Adam would be just another notch on his bedpost, another story to tell his friends.

They’d both get a rush and a release, and that would be that.

And the wineglasses—and their implication that Tony was just one in a long, endless stream of lovers—were only there in case Adam was wrong, in case Tony was telling the truth instead of just bullshitting him when he’d said
I’m looking for more
.

If that
was
the truth, the kid was going to be disappointed.

So be it.

He’d get over it. Life was filled with plenty of disappointments.

Adam went back into the kitchen and took a long slug of wine, this time right from the bottle that he’d opened and left amidst the sandwich rubble.

Which was when the doorbell rang.

Adam looked at his wavy reflection in the kitchen window and waited. His hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in days. There was a coffee stain on his shirt, too, his jeans needed to be washed a week ago, and his feet were bare.

But only when the bell rang for a second time did he move, taking another slug of wine before heading toward the door.

Tony debated leaving his bag in his car or carrying it with him, and his desire to make Adam think he was appeasing him won, so he’d locked it in the trunk.

He stood now on the small landing outside of Adam’s apartment with little more than his wallet, cell phone, and car keys in the pockets of his jeans, dressed the way he’d left the navy base, in only a T-shirt, no jacket, with sandals on his feet.

Lights were on in the building, but there was no way of knowing if the window next to that door was Adam’s. For all Tony knew, the door opened to reveal a set of stairs going up, and that window belonged to a neighbor.

As he rang the bell a second time, he considered the very real possibility that Adam had regretted his invitation and had left for parts unknown, further blowing Tony off by withholding the courtesy of a quick phone call and an even quicker
Changed my mind
.

The January wind gusted, forcing Tony to jam his hands into his pockets and hunch his shoulders against the cold night air. But then the door swung open, and yeah.

There was Adam. Looking better in real life than he did on the movie screen—which was saying something, because the man was, for Tony at least, the very definition of hot.

And everything Tony had planned to say vanished as the rest of the world fell away. In fact, it was possible that he’d also forgotten
how
to speak.

He tried to focus, took in a breath to at least say hi, but Adam shook his head. “No talking. There’s nothing to say. Just come in if you want. Or don’t. Either way, I don’t care.”

But he did care—there was heat in his eyes. Heat from desire and attraction, mixed together with a completely different kind of longing.

Tony knew that Adam was wrong. There
were
things that needed to be said, but every potential conversational start that his flustered brain came up with
—Good to see you again. Cold out here. Traffic was pretty light this time of night. Nice neighborhood. You look great
—seemed inane.

So he just opened his mouth and blurted out, “I’ve only got three days.”

Adam was already shaking his head, already starting to shut the door.

Tony moved forward. He put his foot on the jamb, leaned on the door to stop him.

Adam wasn’t trying all that hard to keep him out, which was good—and all part of the game. And they were, absolutely, playing a game here.

“No talking,” Adam said again. “No more than necessary. I’m negative and I’m careful. No bareback, no risks. If you’re into shit like that, you should turn around and go home.”

“I’m not. And I am, too—careful and negative and that’s … almost everything I wanted to say, but …” Tony lost himself a little, just by looking deeply into the other man’s gorgeous eyes. They were practically nose to nose, each leaning on the other side of the door.

“Not almost,” Adam whispered. “The talking’s over.”

They were standing so close that Tony could feel Adam’s body heat and practically taste the sweet scent of what had to be a very nice red wine on his breath.

“I’m going wheels up,” he spoke quickly, because he didn’t want to
practically
taste it. He was dying to kiss the man. “Probably on Sunday. Maybe Saturday. I won’t be back until April at the earliest. At which point, I’ll let
you
call
me.”

“I won’t.”

Tony smiled at Adam’s scoffed conviction. “Fair enough. Although it’s fine with me if you change your mind.”

“This is getting boring,” Adam said, as he purposely let his gaze slide down and linger on Tony’s mouth.

So Tony leaned in and kissed him.

It was public and twice as dangerous because of that, but he took his time, working hard to keep his mouth gentle, to make the kiss sweet. As opposed to the tongues-down-the-throat-with-a-crotch-grab that he knew Adam had been expecting.

God, it
was
sweet.

And God, he was actually kissing Adam Wyndham.

And Adam was kissing him back, his use of the door as a barrier between them forgotten, his body taut against him, one arm up around Tony’s neck, the other …

In the two and a half seconds since their mouths had first met, Adam had found and unfastened the top button of Tony’s jeans. The zipper wasn’t quite as easy to lower, which was a good thing, considering he was following the time-honored SEAL tradition of going commando.

For someone who wasn’t into taking risks, this was off the chart. Of course, Adam was public about his being gay—it wasn’t a risk for him to make out on his front porch. It was Tony whose career forced him to hide not just in the shadows, but safely inside with the shades pulled tightly down.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Adam, so he maneuvered his way inside, kicking the door shut behind them, even as he grabbed Adam’s wrist. “Slow it down,” he murmured between kisses as the door gave a final-sounding
thunk
. “Just a little, okay? We’ll get there. I’d like to stay a little bit longer than twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.”

Adam pulled back at that, gazing up at him with an expression in his eyes that was impossible to define. “It’s not,” he said. He turned toward the door. “I can’t do this. I changed my mind. You should go.”

Tony blocked him, putting himself securely between Adam and the exit, leaning against it to keep the actor from opening it and letting in the cold night air. “You don’t really want that.”
What are you afraid of?
He didn’t ask that. He already knew.

“What I
want,”
Adam said, using anger to mask his fear, “is for you to shut the fuck up. And forget twenty minutes. I want you gone right now.”

“Tough shit. You invited me here, I’m here.” Tony made himself laugh as he pushed himself off the door and pulled off his T-shirt. And then he laughed again, genuinely now, as Adam couldn’t hide his reaction to Tony’s work-sculpted upper body. He tossed his shirt on a table that sat by the door. He kicked off his sandals, and unfastened the zipper that had given Adam such trouble, and again, the look in the actor’s eyes was an unmistakable
Sweet Jesus
.

“I’ve got three days,” Tony said. And he brushed past Adam, his arm against the warmth and solidness of the other man’s chest, then ambled down the hall that led to the rest of the apartment. “Let’s not waste ’em.”

   Adam followed the half-naked Navy SEAL into his kitchen.

“I’d love a shower.” Tony glanced over as he randomly opened cabinet doors, searching for … the wineglasses. He took out not one but two, setting them on the center island, away from the sandwich crumbs, which brought them face-to-face. He smiled into Adam’s eyes. “Not because I need one.”

Adam knew what he had to do. He had to get his keys and leave. Take a weekend trip to Vegas. Or Seattle. Or freaking Ft. Wayne, Indiana. Anywhere as long as it wasn’t here.

He knew that he should leave immediately. Nothing good was going to come of staying, except for the fact that if he stayed, he was going to have sex—albeit the cheap, meaningless kind—for the first time in a very long time, with one of the most physically beautiful men he’d ever met in his entire thirty years of life.

But instead of walking out the door, he stood there watching as Tony poured them both a generous amount of wine then set the bottle down, and picked up one glass, pushing the other only slightly toward Adam with another smile. “Ever since we met in Boston, well … Let’s just say certain scenes from
Fifteen Minutes
have moved into the must-watch-daily category on my laptop.”

Of course. The quirky romantic comedy in which Adam’s character Nic had become an overnight Internet sensation, after a so-called friend hid a mini-cam in his shower.

Adam finally spoke. “So you
are
a starfucker.”

Tony thought about that as he swirled the wine in his glass and even gave it a sniff. “I guess that depends on your definition. You
are
a star, and you definitely invited me over here to have sex, so … On that level, yeah, that would make the label fit. But I didn’t give you my phone number because of
Fifteen Minutes
. In fact, I didn’t see it until after we met. I just … happen to like sex in the shower—for the intimacy of it. I like water, too. Navy SEAL, you know? And I
really
like the idea of having a good excuse to run my hands over every inch of you.” He held Adam’s gaze as he took a sip. “Mmm. Nice. But it’ll be even nicer if we give it a little more time to breathe. You just opened the bottle, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He set the glass on the counter, next to the one he’d poured for Adam, then headed down the hall toward the master bedroom. “I know you’ve got a bathroom with a shower in here somewhere …”

If their roles had been reversed, if Adam were chasing Tony, he’d have peeled off his jeans before walking down that hallway, to give his pursuee something to look at. A reason to follow. He’d done something very similar during his second night with Robin, back when Robin was still insisting that he wasn’t gay. Of course, Robin had been desperate to remain drunk at all times, and Adam
still
wasn’t sure that he hadn’t been more intent on following the bottle of gin that Adam had carried with him, into the bedroom of the hotel suite.