Bad Influence (23 page)

“Good.”

Silver couldn’t help the smile this time. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered to care. It probably would have been Zeb, back then, but Silver had been too caught up in having a boyfriend to even think about cheating on him.

“You think you should have something to say about that?” He peered down, enjoying Zeb’s attempt at hiding how much he did want a say in it.

“I understand if you don’t think it’s my business.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Silver stroked his free hand down Zeb’s chest. Slender, yeah, but hard. Definition in his pecs and abs. Not pumped for bulk like a gym rat, but like someone who put the muscles to use. Teaching didn’t need heavy lifting. Did Zeb like sports? There was so much Silver didn’t know about him. They’d been busy learning other things about each other then.

“Maybe we should take it slow.” Zeb’s breath hitched.

That wasn’t the answer Silver wanted to hear. “How slow?”

He licked a line down Zeb’s breastbone, tasted sweaty skin and their come mixed together. Moving to a nipple, Silver tongued it, then teased it with his teeth. Zeb’s hand fell heavy on Silver’s head, then petted, sifting through his hair, as the heartbeat under Silver’s mouth pounded faster.

He glanced up at Zeb’s flushed face, watched his tongue poke out and smooth his parted lips. “Well?”

“It’s hard to think when you’re doing that.”

Silver rolled on his back. “Okay. Didn’t think the question required that many brain cells to answer.”

He should have kept going, taken the soft cock into his mouth and let it lengthen and stiffen until he couldn’t hold it just in his mouth, had to open his throat to fit it all inside where it was wet and warm. He had plenty of practice with older guys who needed serious work to get off. Pushing Zeb to the limit of his recovery time wouldn’t be hard at all. Then he wouldn’t be lying here with that hollow feeling, wondering what Zeb wanted. When a guy’s cock was in your mouth, you always knew what he wanted.

Zeb rolled onto Silver. “I’m not sure you asked the right question.”

“I don’t feel like playing some teacher game.”

“I’m not playing any kind of game.”

Silver didn’t want to meet Zeb’s gaze. Because if he was hiding what was really going on, Silver didn’t want to know. “Just tell me what the fuck you want from me.”

“Whatever you want to give me.”

That was completely unhelpful. And all their rolling around had put Silver right at the edge of the bed. There was no place left to go except the floor. Why couldn’t this be easier? Suck or fuck, come, and then holding each other was nice. Right now, the list of guys Silver was looking to do that with was one name long: Zebadiah Harris.

“Yeah right, you’re not playing a game. Then stop with the riddles, or is there some lesson from Proverbs you’re trying to get to?”

“Silver, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. I got off, you got off.”

Zeb put his hand on Silver’s jaw and turned him so they were face-to-face. “And that’s all it was?”

Closing his eyes would be pathetic and childish, but Silver was still tempted. He tried to make his face blank. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“It was more than sex to me.” Zeb’s mouth curled up at the corner. “Not that the sex wasn’t absolutely amazing.”

Silver shrugged. “I’m a professional.”

Zeb’s fingers tightened on Silver’s jaw, though they steered clear of the bruise. “Was that all it was for you?”

“No.” And the hoarseness in Silver’s voice, the way he sounded close to tears, was humiliating, but he didn’t struggle to get free.

“Can I see you again?”

“I only work until two on Sunday. Fuck. I forgot.” It had sounded like an awesome plan when he’d been invited. Gavin taking them out on his yacht. Silver, on an actual fucking yacht.

“Another not-a-date?”

“It’s a group thing.” Silver remembered the invitation.
In celebration of your success, Eli. You’re also welcome, Silver. As is a friend, if you’d like to bring one.

At the time, Silver had been glad Gavin at least knew how much it sucked to be a third/fifth/seventh wheel, but Silver hadn’t been sure about things with Zeb, so there hadn’t been any additions to the guest list. But since Gavin had offered, it would be fine if Zeb wanted to come. Assuming that was the kind of “see you again” thing he had in mind.

“You could come too,” Silver said.

“I wouldn’t want to make people uncomfortable.”

“It’s just my friends.” Sounded weird to say
my friends
and know they were. Good friends who’d be there for him. Even weirder to know his friends included Gavin Montgomery. And grudgingly, Jamie Donovan. “Quinn likes you. And Eli—I edited the past pretty heavily when I explained how things went.”

“As much as I’m glad my testicles will be spared his wrath, I don’t want you to lie to your friend.”

“I didn’t lie.”

Was it always going to hurt? The way Zeb looked at him when he said
lie
?

“I left a lot of stuff out,” Silver said. “But if you don’t want to go, that’s fine. We could get together after. Just us.” He cupped Zeb’s junk to be sure that part of the invitation was clear.

“Could we do both?”

“I guess.”

“So it’s a date.” Zeb gave him the self-mocking half smile. Like he knew how weird the word was.

It might have been hard to make that word fit with the way Silver knew his life was, but Zeb’s real smile could trick anyone into thinking it was exactly right.

Chapter Sixteen

The sight of the red Pontiac had Silver sighing in relief when he finally made it out the back door at With Relish at one thirty Saturday morning. When a big table had come in fifteen minutes before closing, he’d shot Zeb a text telling him not to bother picking him up because he didn’t know how late he’d be. No matter how many laser stares of doom Silver sent their way, that table was determined to eat every last particle of food on their plates and tell every last story five times. Only the kitchen closing and the restaurant’s inability to sell alcohol after one had finally sent them looking for some other place to get drunk. At least they’d left a decent tip.

But as Silver approached the car, he found himself hesitating before opening the passenger door. Things had been fine when Zeb waved goodbye ten hours ago. But that was ten hours for Zeb to think about what having sex with a positive Silver meant. Ten hours to regret the whole thing.

Of course he’d still pick Silver up. Zeb’s sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him go back on a promise. But Silver didn’t want to be a responsibility. And he sure didn’t want that to be why they were having sex.

“Hey.” He slid in, dragging the seat belt over immediately and starting an apology and an explanation of his endless last-minute table.

“I didn’t mind. I was reading.” Zeb jerked his thumb at the backseat where a small tablet reader rested in its case.

“For fun or work?”

“A little of both.” Zeb’s quick glance at Silver’s face made him wonder if any of the reading had been about HIV. Silver could tell Zeb where to get all the best pamphlets.

The monotonous voice of the GPS guided them toward the interstate. Silver heard something about North Charles Street and then the car wasn’t moving and Zeb was stroking his hair.

“Uh. Sorry.” Silver peeled his head off the window, blinked and checked his mouth for drool. He shook his head and glanced out the window to see Eli and Quinn’s house. Something cold squirmed in his stomach. “Thought I was spending the night with you.”

“You’re exhausted. You need sleep.”

Silver had caught a look at himself at around eleven. His eyes were a little sunken and bleary looking. He hadn’t slept much the night before. There’d been the waking up to jerk off and then trying to imagine what was going to happen when they got to Zeb’s apartment.

“Could sleep at your place. Just sleep, I mean.”

“No. We couldn’t.” Zeb’s voice wasn’t sex rough or seductive, completely matter-of-fact, but his words were a sharp, sweet shot of excitement to Silver’s dick. He had to stop himself from shivering.

And then he looked over, looked closely at Zeb for the first time since getting in the car, and the hunger there had Silver lunging across the seat to kiss him. Zeb met him halfway, their lips pushing together hard over teeth, the slick rub of Zeb’s tongue sending another jolt to Silver’s cock.

As Zeb’s hand moved up Silver’s thigh, he let out a gasp, and then a groan of desperation when Zeb only unlatched Silver’s seat belt.

Pulling away, Zeb whispered, “Get some sleep. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Marco showed up at eleven thirty the next morning, driving a car that Silver was surprised didn’t have ten cops trailing behind it as it ventured into very suburban Mount Washington. A Firebird rode on fat tires with toxic-green custom rims, black frame two inches from the pavement.

Yeah, it cut into time Silver would rather spend reintroducing his happy parts to Zeb’s happy parts, but Silver was glad to see Marco. A couple hours of Marco’s combination of cannot-be-real innocence and ability to skewer some dickhead with one ingenuous comment was something Silver found himself looking forward to as Marco pulled the car to the curb in front of Quinn’s house.

“Nice ride,” Silver managed with a straight face.

Instead of the kind of comment he’d usually get, about how the colors matched the inside of his Tia Raquel’s oven, Marco frowned, glanced over his shoulder at the car then shrugged. “Got me up here.”

“Where do you want to go?” Silver asked.

Marco shrugged again. “Can we hang out here? Do your friends mind?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“What happened to your face?” Marco sounded horrified. And a little nervous.

According to the mirror, it looked a hell of a lot better today, but there was still a three-knuckle bruise above the right corner of Silver’s lip. He didn’t feel like getting into it all again. And Marco had enough of his own disapproval shit going on with his brother.

“Accident. At work.”

Quinn was in the dining room, dealing with a gigantic pile of papers he had to grade, and Eli was tearing through his closet, trying to find something yacht-worthy for tomorrow. Even if they did mind, Silver didn’t think either of them would notice Marco.

In the hall Marco asked, “You can have all-night guests?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Quinn stood in the dining room archway. “Uh, Silver, how old is he?”

“Nineteen,
papi
.” How Marco managed to make that sound like a purr without any r’s in the word Silver had no idea.

“He’ll be nineteen in three months,” Silver corrected. “He goes to Baltimore City Community College.”

“Does he have real ID to prove he’s eighteen?” Quinn asked.

“
Si, papi.
”

Eli appeared on the stairs. “Enough with the
papi
-ing. His name is Quinn.”

Marco turned to Eli. “Your
novio
is very hot.”

“Thank you.” Eli crossed the hall in front of Marco to stand next to Quinn.

Quinn put his arms around Eli and gave him a long, wet kiss, but that probably only made Marco more interested. “Don’t worry. I took French and Greek.” Quinn laughed. “Lucky for you.” He gave Eli another quick kiss.

“You said the Greek alphabet backward when we met.” Eli sounded like he was trying to figure Quinn out.

All Silver knew about language stuff was he was glad there wasn’t a foreign language part to the GED.

“Do they teach you nothing of our culture and history before they turn you loose on the queer world?” Quinn glared at each of them. “Google it.” He went back into the dining room muttering about the death of gay history.

Eli had his phone out immediately, but then glanced up. “Do you guys want anything?”

Silver looked at Marco who shook his head. “We’re just going to hang out. Don’t worry. We won’t touch your computer.”

As Silver hit the top of the stairs, he heard Eli laugh. “God, Quinn. Even you and Jamie weren’t born then. Gimme some active Greek, Daddy.”

Silver was not going back downstairs for at least an hour. He had a terrible mental image of something involving yogurt.

As soon as they were in the room, Marco dropped onto Silver’s—the guest—bed. The only other chair was the one at Eli’s desk, and Silver didn’t want to be tempted to poke around on the computer, so he stretched out as far from Marco as the bed’s geography allowed.

“This is better than your other room.”

The bathrooms at The Arena were better than Silver’s room on Tyson Street, but at least he’d known it was his. Feeling sure Eli wasn’t going to toss him on the street without any warning was different than knowing it. And even if he didn’t wear out his welcome before the court date, the judge could lock him up.

Silver ran a hand across the comforter, tracing the stitching holding the stuffing in its neat bumps. It was a plain blue stripe, solid navy on the other side. Not something he’d have noticed in the old days. A bedcover was only something to hide dirty clothes or a spooge stain. The first winter on his own, any extra layer between him and the freezing cold would have been heaven. Back on Tyson he’d had a ripped sleeping bag with a broken zipper he’d found outside a daycare. Five dollars of Laundromat later it stopped smelling like pee.