Refraction Read online

  His spent cock spurted again, the sensation making his eyes cross. “Goddamn.”

  Calvin was panting, and his shallow breath was filled with laughter. “That’s… a fucking under… statement.” He was grinning, and he stretched his arms over his head. “Fuck, tiger.”

  He leaned down, kissed one nipple softly before giving it a quick bite. “Mm-hmm.”

  Tucker might just be a little cracked now. Hell, they might have to have a round two just to fix him.

  “Oh!” Calvin flinched and then giggled again. “God. Teeth.” Calvin scritched across Tucker’s scalp and into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Kiss me.”

  “With pleasure, honey.” Tucker pushed up and took another of those kisses that made him dizzy, lingering for a second before he had to pull away, get rid of the condom, and come back for more.

  Calvin’s eyes were on him as he made his way over. “You look incredible, and I feel fabulous.” Calvin patted the bed and waited for Tucker to climb back in, then stretched out along his side and rested his blond head in the curve of Tucker’s shoulder with a sigh.

  “Mmm.” He petted, long, slow strokes along Calvin’s side, learning the planes and angles.

  There was a quick rap on Calvin’s open door. “Hey, man. Sorry to interrupt. Hi.” The guy looked at Tucker and gave him a wave. “Cal, you mind if I eat that yogurt in the fridge?”

  “Nope. All yours, sweetie. There’s honey in the cabinet over the toaster too.”

  “Oh, sweet. Thanks, man. You want me to close this?”

  “Probably for the best, Timmy.”

  “Oh. Right.” He looked at Tucker again. “I brought home some beer if you’re thirsty. Toothpick won’t touch it, but you just shout.”

  Timmy closed the door as he left.

  He chuckled softly. “The roommate?”

  “Yep. That’s my definitely not-lover, Timmy. Cute as hell, but he will bro-speak you to death if you let him.” Calvin laughed; he was obviously fond of the guy.

  “Mmm.” That was good. You should like someone you lived with, right? He’d gone from his folks’ house to his own place—thank you, Granny. He’d never had to live with someone else.

  Calvin drew little circles on his chest, swirling and combing through the dark hair around his sternum and up across his pecs. “You didn’t get your dinner.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t suppose we can order something in later?” Surely they could. He wanted to touch and pet and explore in an incredibly naked way, more than he wanted to eat.

  “Of course. I bet Timmy will go in with you on some food. He’s got dozens of take-out apps on his phone.” Calvin sat up on one elbow. “It’s really coming down out there. We don’t want to be out in that anyway, right?” Calvin smiled down at him and stole a quick kiss.

  “I’m happy right here.” Food could wait. He was happy as a pig in shit.

  “Good.”

  They watched the snow for a bit, but Calvin didn’t seem real comfortable with the quiet. “So do you have a big following in New York?”

  “I got no idea. My job is to paint. The rest is details. You like to go to parties?”

  Calvin sat up on one hip, eyes flashing. “I love parties.”

  “You want to come to my gallery deal? You could be my date. There’s wine and stuff. At least usually.” Lots of assholes talking about his vision and shit. Boring. He painted what he did because if he got it down, the monsters left him alone. Simple as that.

  “Oh.” Calvin’s cheeks blushed pink, but his smile was a little wicked. “I might be too much company for a sophisticated party.”

  “Promise?” Because that sounded fun as all get-out.

  Calvin arched one carefully manicured eyebrow. “You’re a naughty cowboy. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  “I am a pure-D pain in the ass. These yahoos might could use a little stirring.” After all, publicity was publicity, right? And his work wasn’t for the faint at heart.

  “Well, then. I guess you have a date.” Calvin drew a finger over his ribs and down to one hip bone. “I do love parties. And I don’t even drink much. I’m a lightweight.”

  “I can drink a beer, but wine is like cough medicine. I’ll have a whiskey sometimes, but not much.” Tucker didn’t need help being in an altered state.

  “Beer makes me bloat, and whiskey makes my sinuses burn.” Calvin shivered. “I like a nice white wine or a fruity margarita. But I’m, like, one and done. I’ll nurse a glass of wine all night.” Calvin’s fingers explored his skin, crossing his belly and up his other side.

  “Do you like being a model?” He didn’t think he would. He didn’t like to stand still. He liked to move around his studio, pacing and painting.

  Calvin shrugged. “I love it. I’m good at it. People tell me I’m good to work with. It’s fun. And it sure beats shoveling horse shit.” He winked.

  “Been there, done that.” He didn’t run livestock because he couldn’t be trusted to remember they existed, but his folks still did. “It’s a blessing to love what you do.”

  “I guess. It’s also a blessing to be able to pay the rent. You love your work too, no doubt.”

  “I do. And yeah, paying the bills is important.” He thanked God every day that he made money doing what he had to do.

  “I wish I was creative. I can’t make anything. It’s something you’re born with, right? Everyone says talent is organic.” Calvin laughed, tracing a line across Tucker’s chin and following it with his lips.

  “I got nothing, honey. I can’t remember not drawing.”

  “Right. Born with it.” Calvin slipped out of bed and found Tucker’s jeans, then pulled out his little sketchbook. Calvin tossed it, and it landed on his belly. “Show me. Show me something. Tell me about it.”

  He turned to the first page, where a bloated witch sat, eating a toad, crocodiles at her feet. “My seatmate on the plane. She was grumpy.”

  Calvin grinned at him. “Well, you’re what? Six two? Not sure I blame her.”

  “She had the outside seat.” He turned the pages, showing off storefronts, one with a demon jacking off in the corner, another with an imp sleeping in a chandelier.

  “Ah! I love that one.” He pointed to the imp. “I’d say it was cute, but someone’s probably going to eat him when you turn the page. Better to not get attached.”

  “No, by the time we turn the page I was in the library.” Tall shelves of books were a nightmare begging to be explored.

  “And the rest is history!” Calvin flopped over in the pillows, giggling. “God. You know what I had planned today? I was going to leave the library, come home, put my PJs on, and binge-watch Golden Girls. Possibly nap.”

  “What were you reading in the library?” He was infinitely more fun than four old broads in a condo.

  Calvin turned his head and looked over at Tucker. “Judy Blume.”

  “As in, Are You There God?” Wow, go him and his memory.

  “Actually, exactly as in, Are You There God? And before you think I’m even crazier than you already do, it’s a literacy thing. I was volunteering.”

  Oh, that fucking rocked. “Yeah? Good on you. That’s incredibly cool.”

  “Thanks. Gotta give back, you know?” Calvin smiled at him. “I don’t have a lot of skills people need, but I can read.”

  He shook his head, but instead of arguing, he just took a kiss.

  Calvin coaxed him into making it last a little longer and then settled against his side again with a yawn. “Oh, wow.”

  “Mm-hmm. You want to nap, let the snow fall?” That sounded a little like heaven.

  “Mmm.” Calvin nuzzled into the hair under Tucker’s arm and then settled on his shoulder. “Yeah. The city is almost silent in the snow.”

  He heard Calvin exhale and felt the puff of breath across his chest, and the room went quiet.

  Lord have mercy, Tucker wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this, but he was damn glad he managed it. He watched Calvin sleep
for a while, then let his eyelids close.

  Naptime. He’d earned it.

  Chapter Four

  WHEN CALVIN woke up, the streetlights were cutting into the darkness of the room right through his open curtains and leaving a bright mark across the bottom of his bed.

  He patted around for his phone on the nightstand but didn’t find it, and squinted out the window at the still-falling snow, trying to remember what he’d done with it.

  Feet shifted under the comforter, making the light bend and break across the folds, and with a smile he remembered.

  Tucker.

  So it hadn’t all been a dream. Not a sleeping dream anyway, or the kind of waking dreams he had when he hadn’t eaten in a while.

  He leaned over and kissed the tiger on the shoulder—though maybe Tucker was more like a bear. He was so fuzzy.

  That was a cute thought, but shit, he had to pee. He hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, giving Timmy a wave on his way by.

  “Hey, man. You hungry?”

  “Always.” Timmy laughed.

  “I bet Tucker is too. Don’t order anything yet.” Calvin hurried into the bathroom.

  The cold of the tile made his balls draw up, and he beelined to the toilet, then peed forever as his feet froze. He wasn’t sure if he felt better for the relief or worse for the shivering. He washed his hands, grabbed a couple of bottles of water, and headed back toward the bedroom.

  “What kind of name is Tucker?” Timmy asked as Calvin walked by.

  “It’s an artist’s name,” Calvin shot back, knowing full well that wasn’t what Timmy meant.

  “Whatever. Tell him it’s Chinese or Chinese. They’re the only fools delivering in this weather.”

  “Will do!” Calvin went back into his room and closed the door.

  Tucker was sitting up in bed, pencil flying over that sketchbook, but he stopped when he saw Calvin. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey.” Calvin tossed him a water bottle and then crawled back into bed beside him. “Timmy says he’s ordering Chinese if you want.” He leaned closer, trying to make out what Tucker was working on.

  “Yeah? I’d take a sweet-and-sour soup. It’s the right weather for it.” Tucker had drawn him, sleeping, laughing, drinking coffee.

  Calvin frowned. Why him? Why not Bryant Park in the snow or that insanely beautiful, angular light coming in through his window? He didn’t like the way Tucker captured him in that notebook. All his imperfections. Not the sharp angle of his collarbone, but the bruises to his ego. All the scratches on his soul. Was Tucker doing that on purpose?

  “Draw something else, tiger.”

  Tucker looked over at him, blinked, then nodded and turned the page without a word. That pencil moved like it had a mind of its own.

  He wanted to look again, to see what had Tucker so focused, but his spine was still tingling in an eerie way, and he just couldn’t. He slid off the bed again, this time going for a robe. Stupid winter. “I’ll tell Timmy to order you that soup.”

  “It’s okay, honey. I’d rather just sit with you and chat.” Tucker leaned and slid the notebook into his clothes.

  “Don’t do that—you draw if you want to. I’m not trying to interrupt. It’s only this dark because it’s winter, and we’ve got a long night still. You’re going to get hungry later, and anyway, Timmy is waiting on you to order. I’ll be right back.”

  He gave Tucker a smile that he hoped covered for whatever all of that babbling was about and tucked his robe around him. He hated feeling flustered. He was almost never flustered.

  “Timmy,” he said as he swept out of the room. “Tucker wants sweet-and-sour soup.”

  “That’s it? I’m getting him some fried rice. That’s not enough food for a grown man.”

  Timmy’s pupils were taking over his face. Calvin squinted at him. “Are you stoned?”

  “Maybe a little. It’s snowing. Where am I going?”

  Calvin laughed. “Just knock when it gets here.”

  “Right on.”

  “There.” He went back into the bedroom. “All set. Have to keep up your strength after all.”

  “Yessir.” Tucker was sitting on the windowsill, naked as the day he was born, staring out at the snow. For a moment Calvin wished he actually could draw, because that was a beautiful sight.

  Calvin joined Tucker, leaning close to the man’s back. He opened his robe and tried to tuck it around them both, but it barely made it past Tucker’s shoulders.

  “Beautiful, right? Peaceful?” The city was so different in the snow. The sidewalks were nearly empty, and the street noise was muffled like it was under a heavy blanket.

  “Never seen anything like it. It’s like the moon, like a Christmas card or something.”

  “Like the moon….” Calvin looked out at the street, at the little divots in the snow left by hurrying feet and the tire tracks in the street blurred by the wind and new snowfall. “I never saw it like that before.” He ran his hands over Tucker’s chest. “I’ve never been to Texas. What would you show me if you took me there?”

  “Oh Lord, there’s a question, honey. You could explore your whole life and not see half. I live in Central Texas, out in the hill country, and we’d go to the Balcones, see the escarpment, and walk the Edwards Plateau. Then we could go to Barton Springs and swim. It’s gorgeous out at my place. I got a nice piece of land—fourteen acres.” Tucker’s face softened with what Calvin assumed was love.

  Calvin had never even heard of any of those places. He leaned around to catch Tucker’s eye and give him a smile. “Sounds so beautiful.”

  As their eyes met, Calvin’s heart started to pound again. Just like on the subway platform, just all of a sudden, thumping against his sternum and echoing in his ears. Even in the shadowy streetlight, the blue in Tucker’s eyes went right through him.

  “It is. It’s a good place.” Tucker reached up and cupped his jaw, drew him close, just breathing with him, in and out, slow and steady.

  It didn’t stop his heart pounding, but it calmed the piece of him that was panicking and trying to understand what the hell was wrong with him. “Is it just me?”

  “This pull between us? And know you’ll wound my soul if you pretend that wasn’t what you were talking about.”

  Oh. Oh God, Tucker’s words… that truth was heartbreaking. “I couldn’t pretend if I wanted to. I just… I don’t understand it.”

  “Honey, if there’s one thing on God’s earth I understand, it’s that I don’t understand shit.”

  Calvin looked at Tucker, letting his head tilt a little to one side, and then laughed softly. “I don’t know if that makes me feel any better, but at least I’m not alone.”

  “Come back to the bed before you freeze.” Tucker stood and drew him back to the covers, pulled him down and wrapped him up.

  He was cold. Shivering, and he hadn’t even noticed. He let Tucker take him in, hold him close, rub his back to warm him up—things that proved this was real.

  Calvin pointedly ignored the practical voice that was insisting this could only be real for a couple of days. Tucker lived in Texas. He had fourteen acres waiting for him. Even if he got that studio for a week, he had a home he loved, and he’d be going back to it. And Calvin had a shoot on Monday and who knew what after that, and if he got the Calvin Klein contract, that might take him to LA.

  Tucker settled him, one hand solid against his hip. “Tell me about you. Your favorite song.”

  “Oh wow. Um.” Calvin listened to a lot of music. It was always on—everywhere he worked, his phone on the subway, in the bars at night—but… his favorite? “‘Heroes.’ David Bowie.”

  “I know that one!” Tucker sang a few bars in a totally respectable baritone. Okay, that was unexpected and wonderful.

  “Yes. That one. Doesn’t everyone know Bowie?” He kissed Tucker under his chin. “You. Your favorite.” He already knew he would probably have never heard of it. They didn’t play country at his photo shoots.

&nb
sp; “You promise you won’t laugh?”

  “No.” Calvin laughed.

  “Butthead. It’s ‘Genie in a Bottle.’ I love that silly song.”

  “What?” What? Calvin did laugh, only not for the reasons he’d been expecting. “I know that one! I thought for sure you’d say some country song I’d have no hope of knowing. Oh, I do love Christina. Also? Hot.”

  “I know, right? There’s just something so sexual and fun about it.” Tucker grinned, and suddenly he looked so young.

  “Okay, favorite… superhero.”

  “Batman. Totally Batman. He’s got the car, the cash, the broody thing.”

  Calvin shook his head. “Batman is not a superhero. He’s a dude with a fancy car. He’s cool, but he’s not super.”

  “No? Are you sure? He has comic book franchises, movies, and Halloween costumes.”

  “And Legos and video games and iPhone apps. Still not super.” He sang the last bit just to be silly; he wasn’t really trying to argue. “Captain America is my pick. Hunky, brave, and in love with Bucky.”

  “He’s good. I like Thor too. He has Loki.”

  “And a humongous hammer. Because there’s no metaphor there or anything.” He giggled. “Have to be worthy to pick it up—and who gets close? Captain America. Boom.”

  “Do you dress up for Halloween? I can see you as Captain America.”

  “Always.” Like, always, always. Halloween was the best day of the year, next to his birthday. “So I’ll go as Captain America, and you’ll make a very sexy Thor. Do you usually dress?”

  “It depends on whether I have plans. I have. I went as a surgeon last year.”

  “How very conservative of you.” Calvin winked at him. “I was a gladiator. Although we had freezing rain that day, so I was more of a gladiator popsicle.”

  “Oh, I would have liked to see that. And I’ll have you know I looked amazing. Green is a good color on me.”

  Could there possibly be a bad color on this tiger? “Skin is a good look on you too. But if you must be clothed, I would think blue would make those gorgeous eyes really pop.”

  “I have a couple of blue shirts somewhere. I’m not trustworthy. I start working, and my clothes get torn and stained.”