Refraction Read online

  He spread wider, knees drawing up to cradle Calvin as he sucked in one breath after another. Tucker could hear himself babbling, but none of it made sense, even in his own ears.

  Calvin’s flat hot tongue scrubbed him, and the head of his cock bumped up against Calvin’s soft palate as the strokes grew quicker and more shallow. He felt a sweet burn all the way up through his belly as Calvin’s fingers moved to his balls to roll and squeeze and then give them a light tug.

  He tried to gasp out his warning, but it came out as a wild cry, a single sob that dissolved into fucking stars as he poured himself out, offering Calvin all he had.

  “Mmmm.” He could feel Calvin’s throat working, and Calvin’s smug little hum vibrated through him, the attention continuing long after he was spent.

  “Magic. I swear. Pure fucking joy, you.” He could curl inside Calvin and stay.

  That lithe body crawled back up and over him. Calvin’s eyes looked into his, the makeup around them so perfectly smudged it almost seemed deliberate. “I love how you loved that. I know that sounds weird, but… and I mean I usually enjoy giving head, but that was different. You just… made me love that.”

  “Good. Good, stay? Please?”

  Calvin leaned over him and whispered, “Can’t say no when you say please, tiger.”

  “I’ll remember that.” He drew Calvin close, took a gentle kiss. “Thank you for tonight, honey. You rock my world.”

  Calvin settled in against Tucker, pillowing his head on Tucker’s shoulder. “You’re a brilliant artist, Tucker. I know I’m not the only one that saw that. But I am the only one that got to polish belt buckles with you, so I’m going to sleep a happy man tonight.”

  “Good.” He flushed hard, the words honoring him down to the bone. “Best damn opening in history.”

  “Well, it was my first and only, so I’ll have to take your word on that, but I thought it was loads of fun. Tell me again that you’re really not leaving town tomorrow.”

  “I’m not leaving. I need to stay.” The universe had told him, had been whispering since he’d met Calvin, had seen those warm eyes.

  Calvin sat up, kissed him, and pulled away, smiling. “I’m going to wash up. Say goodbye to the raccoon.” Calvin patted his belly, slid out of bed, and giggled all the way to the bathroom.

  He made himself get the covers pulled back, bring another water to the bed. Oh, juice. He devoured an orange juice, feeling it splash down into his belly.

  “I stole the weird little travel toothbrush that was in the complimentary-kit thing.” Calvin emerged from the bathroom, looking fresh and young, skin scrubbed a little pink. “And I used some of your shaving cream to get the makeup off too. Hope that’s cool.”

  “Does that work? That’s pretty damn neat.” God, Calvin was lovely.

  “It totally does. You have to really keep your eyes closed, though, because it stings like a bitch if it gets in them.” Calvin picked up his water and took a big sip, then pulled his phone out of a pocket in his kilt. “Just have to text Timmy, sorry. One sec.”

  “Do you need a charger?” Tucker thought he could watch the way Calvin’s ass moved for an eternity.

  “You have an extra lightning cable?” Calvin paced the length of the room, thumbs hitting the screen like heavy rain on a windowpane, and didn’t seem to notice Tucker was watching. Just tap tap tap. “Timmy says hello, but he’s worried that I’m in a stranger’s hotel room. Funny he thinks you’re still a stranger. You’ll have to be careful. He knows your room number now.”

  “Fair enough. You can give him my number if you need to. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything.”

  “If I thought there was any chance in hell, I wouldn’t be here, baby. Timmy’s just being a friend.” Calvin handed him the phone. “Charge me up, tiger.”

  “You got it.” He plugged Calvin in, closed all his apps so his battery would last, then settled into the sheets.

  “Thank you.” Calvin bounced up on the bed and snuggled in beside him with a happy sigh. “Ooh, these are nice sheets. Comfy and cool. Maybe I’ll steal them on my way out tomorrow, just to give them something else to talk about in the lobby.”

  Tucker chuckled, drawing Calvin close. “I can see you in a toga. Although I can’t imagine anything more amazing than tonight’s outfit.”

  “Yeah? Thank you. I thought you’d like that. I wanted to fit in with your paintings. You know, dark, powerful, sexy. I wanted to look like I belonged to you.”

  Tucker’s fucking soul clenched, and he pressed his lips to Calvin’s shoulder. “Thank you, ever so.”

  “It’ll be a fascinating walk of shame in the morning, though. That shirt isn’t suited to Sundays.” Calvin laughed, the sound bright.

  “You can borrow one of mine. I got nice sweaters.”

  “I’ll take you up on that, but I’ll probably look like I’m wearing daddy’s clothing.” Calvin reached across him and turned out the light.

  Tucker thought that lots of folks wore oversized clothes, but what did he know? He bought ten of the same shirts at a time.

  Calvin kissed his chest. “Are you sleepy?”

  “I don’t know. I’m floating. It’s like I smoked a joint, without the burnt taste.”

  “Floaty is good. I feel like I hit the lottery. I probably could dance all night.” Calvin giggled and then calmed and settled into him. “But really, I just want…. Is it weird to just want you to hold me? Just quietly?”

  “Sounds like heaven, honey. Rest with me a bit.” His brain was quiet, and he knew to be grateful for that.

  For that peace and the man in his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time the world allowed him ease.

  Chapter Eight

  FIVE FIFTY-FIVE p.m.

  Already.

  Tucker would be here soon, apparently in some fancy car he’d hired for them so they didn’t have to take the subway or wait for an Uber when they were ready to leave.

  If Tucker really did decide to stay in the city for a while, Calvin was going to teach the man how to enjoy the convenience of underground public transportation.

  Or—he’d get that Calvin Klein centerfold gig Michael was lining up for him, and then he’d become too well-known to ever take the subway again, and he’d be the one hiring cars. Pretty much worked for him either way.

  He looked himself over in the mirror, futzing with his hair one more time, making sure the waves were tame and respectful. He’d agonized over his hair and his outfit most of the afternoon—what does one wear for a formal introduction to the woman who had half raised your lover, was a total shark of an agent, and had so obviously earned every ounce of love and respect Tucker had in him?

  Right. Fuck. He’d met Tucker two days ago and was already meeting the family.

  No pressure there at all.

  In the end he’d settled on a V-neck sweater in a bright, happy violet that showed off his pumped-up shoulders and chest in a way he hoped would get Tucker’s attention and keep it, but still be cheerful and friendly enough to make a good impression. After that, it was easy—a white T-shirt under the sweater, skinny khakis, and…. Oh God. What was he going to wear on his feet?

  He hurried back to his closet.

  “This one must be special. You’re fluttering.” Timmy leaned on the doorframe with a grin. “The Texan?”

  “I am not fluttering. I just need shoes.” He looked around his closet door at his roommate and smiled. “The Texan is named Tucker.”

  “Yeah? Is the Texan sticking around a few days?”

  Oh. “He’s renting studio space in the city for a few weeks.” He pulled a pair of Vans out of his closet and sat on the edge of his bed to put them on. “I’m having dinner with his grandmother’s college roommate tonight.” Because that sounded good, right? Better than just an agent, anyway.

  “For real? Dude.” Timmy looked him over, top to bottom. “Good choice on the shirt.”

  “For real. And you think this is okay? I look good enough to meet family?”
<
br />   “Yeah, it says happy and classy. Besides, it shows off your collarbones. I bet the Texan loves that.”

  Tucker had sketched them, in fact, so Timmy might be right. “It’s weird that you know that, but yeah, I think he does. Are collarbones, like, a thing?”

  “That’s the whole deal with the oversized sweaters, huh?”

  “Oh, I guess. Go you with the fashion sense.” He stood up, paced across the room, and looked out the window at the busy street below. No car yet. Was Tucker going to text? Come up? He’d forgotten to ask.

  Like thinking about Tucker made him appear, Calvin’s phone rang, Tucker’s name on the screen.

  He dashed across his room, dove onto his bed, and snagged the phone off his bedside table. “It’s him.”

  He glanced over at Timmy. “I am totally fluttering.”

  “Yeah. Whoa.” Timmy waggled his eyebrows.

  He swiped his screen with his middle finger. “Hey, tiger.”

  “Evenin’, honey. You ready? We’re fixin’ to pull up.” He could hear Tucker’s smile.

  “Great. I’m almost ready. I’ll be right down.” He was so ready. He’d been ready, except for the shoe emergency, for a half an hour. But the whole right-on-time thing was weird, and he didn’t want to seem anxious. He blew a kiss into the phone and hung up.

  “I can’t wait to hear about your dinner. You coming home tonight?” Timmy was the king of living vicariously.

  “Fuck. Dinner. I didn’t even think about dinner. I have a shoot tomorrow.” And he had to come home too.

  “Uh-oh. Maybe it’ll be salad.”

  “I’ll… figure it out.” He’d pick at it. Or say he wasn’t feeling well. Something. No food-belly allowed. “I will be home.” He grabbed his phone and his wallet and kissed Timmy on the cheek. “Watching a movie?”

  “Yep. Having a Godzilla-thon.”

  Okay, his roommate was a dork.

  “You’re too loveable to stay inside all the time, Timmy. Even if it is eleven degrees out. Call someone.” He grabbed his coat and hurried out the door, knowing full well that Timmy would be sitting on the couch when he got home.

  He took the winding staircase down to the ground floor so fast he nearly made himself dizzy. Apparently it took a dork to know a dork.

  “Holy fuck,” he swore as he left his building and the ice-cold air stung his cheeks. He couldn’t get into that black car fast enough.

  Tucker was wearing that goofy plaid flannel coat over a blue button-down, with a brown cowboy hat this time. “Hey, honey. You order this weather?”

  “Fuck no. Why don’t I live in the Caribbean?” He slid right across the back seat and took a taste of Tucker’s lips, ducking under the brim of the cowboy hat.

  “Mmm. I’ve never been there. We should go.” Tucker kissed him back, that stubble beginning to soften into a full beard.

  “I love the beach, but you would laugh at me. I can’t tan. Like, it’s bad for business.” He shifted and leaned into Tucker. God, it just felt so good to do that.

  “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. I never worry on it. Sun, I mean. I swim naked a lot.”

  He laughed. “Swim naked, paint naked, fuck naked. Why do you even own clothing?” Seriously. Why? Tucker looked like a fucking Roman god naked.

  “Silly laws, and periodically you don’t want your dangly bits… dangling. Grilling out, for instance, or using a saw.”

  “That’s what lace hipsters are for.” He grinned, knowing what that would do to Tucker.

  “Mmm. Those made me stupid, honey. That was a sweet damn surprise.”

  They’d made Tucker more than stupid. It didn’t take anything at all to keep the cowboy’s busy mind rooted in that hotel room after that. He could feel his own smug little grin right down to his toes. He laid his head on Tucker’s shoulder and let him see it. “Gonna be hard to top that one.”

  “Mmm. I have faith in us. We’ll find something wonderful when we need it.” Tucker stroked his fingers. “I signed the papers for my studio today. An open space, a bathroom, kitchenette deal, and a place for a bed.”

  “A bed in your studio? Wait, are you going to live in it?” He’d just assumed Tucker would stay at the hotel. Moving into his studio was so New York artist.

  The car pulled up to the curb, and Calvin peered through the windshield. Corner of Eighty-Fifth and York. Nice.

  “No reason to pay for the hotel and the studio both, right?” Tucker held the car door open for him. “Come on in out of the cold.”

  “No, I get it.” He got it. And he worried about it too. But it wasn’t his place to say anything, and who was he to suggest anyone pay to keep two places in this city?

  He slid from the car and let Tucker put an arm around his shoulders.

  The door opened before they could ring the bell, and Marge ushered them in. “You need a better coat, Tucker. I told you. You’re going to freeze.”

  Leather. Tucker needed a leather jacket. “I agree. I’ll take him shopping.” He smiled as Marge stepped aside to let them in. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you again, without the circus.”

  “Indeed. This will be infinitely quieter, and the chairs are better.” Marge kissed his cheek and took his jacket.

  The kiss made his cheeks heat, and he took Tucker’s hand. “I love this neighborhood. So old New York. But it’s secretly so hip.”

  “Thank you. I’m very happy here. I’ve been here for a long time.”

  “Eons,” Tucker teased, and she reached out and pinched him.

  “I changed your diapers, young man.”

  “Once, when Granny had to go answer the phone, maybe….”

  Their banter was wonderful, and Calvin found himself smiling, just wanting to listen like a fly on the wall. He didn’t want to interrupt all the affection in it, all the joy.

  He let Tucker lead him into what felt like Marge’s living room. There was lots of eclectic seating—a love seat, a couple of comfortable ottomans, an overstuffed chair, and a lovely window seat full of pillows that was calling his name.

  “Have a seat wherever. I decided on tapas for supper. Fun and easy finger foods.”

  “Ooh. Olives.” Tucker grinned over at him, winked. “I could live on olives and Lucky Charms. Separately.”

  “Gross.” Tapas. Easy to pick at, lots of veggies… that saved him all kinds of embarrassment. Tucker had to have planted that seed, right? The way the cowboy looked out for him made him a little breathless. He pulled Tucker over to the window seat and caught those blue eyes. “The Lucky Charms I mean. The tapas are perfect.” Especially since they hadn’t ended up having them on their first night together.

  “Lucky Charms are magically delicious.” Tucker looked so pleased, so happy. “The commercial says so.”

  “Hmm. And that response, Marge, is everything that is wrong with this country.” Calvin laughed and gave Tucker’s fingers a squeeze. “That and the fact that someone actually thought, ‘Oh, I know! Let’s make fake marshmallow hearts and stars and moons in gross colors and have a leprechaun hawk them.’”

  “Don’t look at me. I’m a ‘coffee and cigarette for breakfast’ girl.”

  Tucker rolled his eyes dramatically. “I eat them for snacks. Heathens.”

  He figured he better not pipe up, since he didn’t even eat breakfast.

  “Marge, you’ve been in New York all this time and you haven’t managed to get Tucker up here for a real show before?”

  “This is a lot of people for our Tucker. We all worried he’d get lost in the noise.”

  He nodded at her, hoping she’d see he’d caught the subtext. “We, huh?” He looked at Tucker. “Well, it can be a bit of a zoo, but it seems like you’re doing pretty well to me.”

  “I’m having a ball. I feel inspired. I’ve been sketching and enjoying myself more than I ever have.”

  Inspired was a good look on the cowboy.

  “So, Tucker says you were roommates with his granny? He hasn’t said a lot about her, but I have
this feeling the two of you must have been quite a duo.”

  “Oh yes. April was amazing. I was sixteen when I met her. I’d lied about my age, and she kept my secret. She was the best friend a woman could have. When my husband died, she came and stayed with me for six weeks, no question.”

  Tucker reached out and took Marge’s hand, squeezed it gently. “And when Momma ended up stuck in Chicago at nineteen when her boyfriend left her, you flew out and managed to get her back home.”

  “Sounds like you were lucky to have each other. No wonder Tucker misses her so much.” Tucker missed Marge too, he could see that. Maybe he should scheme with Marge to keep the cowboy in New York for more than a few weeks.

  He so wasn’t above that.

  “I’m sorry about your husband. Was he an agent too?”

  “My Thomas? Oh, no. Thomas wrote children’s books. They were gentle and wonderful and totally unique.”

  “Oh, how cool. All these creative people around you, Tucker, no wonder you’re so talented. It’s like it’s infused in your bone marrow.”

  “I’m lucky. I meet the most amazing people.” Tucker was looking right at him when he said it.

  “So tell me about your work, Calvin. Tucker says you’re a model.”

  “Oh.” He forgot this whole conversation thing meant he would probably have to talk about himself. “It’s nothing deep, but it’s fun. I get to wear sexy underwear and get my picture taken. I meet neat people from everywhere. Travel sometimes. I like it.” Calvin shrugged.

  “It sounds like a hell of a lot of work. I’ve known a few models. They’re disciplined people.” Marge made it sound like a real job.

  “Thanks. That’s kind.” He was pretty sure he was blushing, but he gave her an appreciative nod. “I guess the days can be long, and sometimes I get asked to do crazy stuff, but I’m pretty patient.”

  “Lord, no one has ever said that about me.” Tucker chuckled softly. “I can get frustrated.”

  “Really? I would never have guessed that about you.” He slipped his arms around Tucker’s waist and gave him a tight hug and winked at Marge. “I bet he’s always been like that, huh?”