Love Me Tenor Page 7

  “Put your headphones back on,” he said. He wasn’t usually the one giving orders in this situation, but his voice held more confidence than he would have thought.

  “Seriously?” Jalen raised both eyebrows this time. “You got some kind of kink?”

  “Something like that.” Trevor’s blood hummed at the image of Jalen getting off to the music while Trevor sucked him, riff echoing the sensations Trevor pushed on him.

  “Okay. But you surprise me with a bite or anything painful and I’m not responsible for what I do.” Jalen sounded so serious that Trevor had a feeling the biting wasn’t a hypothetical fear.

  “I wouldn’t.” He waited for Jalen to get the headphones back on.

  Jalen hit a button on the phone strapped to his biceps. Oh that was even better—Jalen queuing up music he wanted to get blown by. And Trevor had no way of knowing what tunes he’d picked.

  Yes. A deep sigh reverberated through Trevor’s body. The distance between them seemed perfect now, like the mystery of the music had restored the anonymity Trevor craved. This wasn’t their room. This wasn’t the guy he’d spent hours and hours with. This sure as hell wasn’t his pretend boyfriend. It was just a jock, fresh from a workout, looking to use Trevor’s mouth. Anonymous. Quick. Dirty. Exactly what he needed.

  No more hesitation. Trevor dropped to his knees in front of Jalen. Watching Jalen work out was as intoxicating as Grey Goose, like getting live-action jock porn complete with musky hardworking guy smell and sound track featuring grunts after each rep.

  Trevor tugged on the shorts, hooking his fingers so that Jalen’s boxer briefs slid down to midthigh as well. Jalen didn’t reach right for Trevor’s head, and he didn’t do that thing Trevor hated, where the guy held his dick for Trevor to suck, like he might get some gay on him if Trevor got too close to the rest of his body.

  No, thank you, control freak boys. Trevor liked to touch and explore, too. And bonus points to Jalen, who seemed totally willing to let Trevor take his time and get a good long look at Jalen’s goods. Trevor used his thumbs to trace Jalen’s cut hipbones, following the muscle definition down Jalen’s groin, into his closely trimmed patch of hair. Nice. And the hard dick jutting away from Jalen’s body was even nicer—a deep mahogany several shades darker than the rest of Jalen’s skin, with a tawny pink head poking out of a loose ring of foreskin. It wasn’t porn-star freakish or anything, but it was plenty long and thick enough to set Trevor’s mouth watering.

  Trevor liked playing with uncut guys, so he started by jacking Jalen a few times, nice and slow.

  “Harder,” Jalen said, his voice gruffer than normal but not unkind. “Please.”

  Trevor complied, but he wouldn’t have minded if Jalen was rude and demanding. In fact, sometimes he liked it better that way—the other guy demanding, Trevor supplying. Imaginary club music still echoing in his ears, he got into a rhythm of stroking Jalen with a firm grip while taking a few teasing licks at the glistening head.

  Jalen made a happy, eager sound, leaning back against the top bunk. Rewarding him for the noise, Trevor didn’t waste any more time and swallowed him deep. He hummed around Jalen’s shaft, his trick to opening up his throat enough to let Jalen slide all the way in. Gripping Jalen’s hips, he tugged Jalen forward, then relaxed, letting his cock slide back enough so he could get a breath before pulling the thick length in again.

  Jalen eventually got the picture and started fucking Trevor’s face, the slow, steady rhythm Trevor craved. Jalen’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and there was the barest hint of shimmy to his hips while the hand against his thigh tapped out a beat. So hot. Trevor tried to catch on to the beat strumming through Jalen, tried to mirror the music he could sense but not hear.

  “Holy fuck you’re good at this.” Jalen’s other hand came around to sift through Trevor’s hair. Inwardly, Trevor preened under the praise. He was good at this. No matter what else might be lacking in him, he had faith in his ability to make Jalen moan and tremble, to coax the tremor running up Jalen’s thighs, under Trevor’s hands on his hips.

  Jalen was good about not grabbing at Trevor’s hair, but he did pick up the pace, harder thrusts that made Trevor’s eyes water. Trevor welcomed the burn, forced his throat to open more, tightened his hands on Jalen’s hips, inviting Jalen to go even faster. He was rewarded with a salty burst of pre-cum across his tongue. Up close like this, Jalen smelled musky and earthy, with a hint of the coconut body wash he used. Trevor had found the bottle in the shower the other morning and had opened it up for a good long sniff. He wanted to gobble Jalen up, lick and nuzzle him all over while discovering all the variations of his scent and taste.

  “More.” Jalen’s gasp was breathy, none of his usual baritone cool. “Come on, Trev. Almost there.”

  Yes. More praise. He let it wash over him, honey coating all his senses. Later he’d have to peel the sticky sweetness away, let the bitter feelings back in, but right now he soaked up every bit of encouragement Jalen had to offer. He redoubled his efforts, working his tongue along the base of Jalen’s shaft with each thrust. He swallowed hard, using his throat to milk another long moan out of Jalen’s full pink lips. God he was gorgeous looming above Trevor like this. In that moment he was not just another jock body, but a veritable superhero action figure come to life.

  “Gonna . . .” Whatever Jalen had been about to say was lost in a low groan, followed by a stream of muffled curses as Jalen came. He was so deep that Trevor barely tasted his cum until Jalen pulled back, a last salty spurt landing on Trevor’s tongue and making him swallow fast.

  “Jesus. Just. Jesus.” Jalen collapsed onto the bottom bunk, hauling Trevor up next to him. He breathed heavy, clutching Trevor to his chest like he was a life raft. This was . . . different. Most guys zipped up and didn’t meet his eyes again. But Jalen pressed a kiss to Trevor’s temple, lips skirting lower. No. No. No kissing after. It was one of the rules.

  But Jalen didn’t seem bound by the same playbook as Trevor. Sucking in another gulp of air, Jalen’s hand fumbled for Trevor’s fly. “You want my hand or my mouth?”

  “Whaa?” Trevor made an angry duck noise and squirmed away, knocking Jalen’s hand off in the process. This was not how things went at all. His little fantasy bubble of anonymity went pop. Jalen had lost the angry jock vibe and was perilously close to fake boyfriend behavior again. And they couldn’t have that.

  “I’m good.” He tried to sound a bit more collected, but it still came out like an indignant bird.

  “Did you already get off? Because I’ve got to tell you, that’s hella hot if sucking me made you shoot in your shorts. I bet we could make it a twofer.” The gleam in Jalen’s eye was predatory and made Trevor scramble right off the bed.

  “I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” Trevor sputtered. He was seriously reeling. “Why do you care? You’re straight!”

  Seriously? For reals? They were back at this again? Jalen thumped his head back against the pillow and tried to shake off his orgasm stupor. He wanted to wallow in the heavy-limbed, delicious burned-out feeling of a hard workout followed by coming so intensely his IQ must have lowered twenty points in the process. But not so much that he couldn’t work up some steam for Trevor’s latest crazy.

  “Boy. I don’t know what crack you’re smoking, but exactly why do you think I’m straight?”

  “Because—”

  Without opening his eyes, Jalen held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s look at the evidence. One, you had my dick in your mouth. Something I wasn’t any reluctant about.” That was an understatement. After almost a week solid of this pretend boyfriend business, Jalen had darn near combusted when Trevor got to his knees. Heck, simply having Trevor look at him like that, eyes all wide and wanting, without a camera in sight, had been enough to get Jalen Kevlar hard. “Two, I just offered to suck yours. Three, you came into me working my ass out to RuPaul.”

  Trevor made a sputtery sound like he might be going to defend the honor of all the straight guys
who’d cop to making their booty bounce.

  “Four, and something you keep not getting, I am playing your boyfriend for the whole damn world to see. How many girls you think I’m going to get when this shit airs?”

  “So you’re . . . gay?” Trevor still didn’t sound convinced.

  “I wore rainbow go-go shorts—and nothing else—at LA Pride last year. You need a picture? Why the hell can’t you believe I’m gay?” He didn’t mention that Mama Ivy had bought the shorts for him to march with their local AIDS charity, or that he’d spent most of the day hanging with his moms and their friends. Pride was like a big family reunion for him, but if Trevor needed to picture Jalen grinding on half of West Hollywood to hammer home the gay thing, Jalen was happy to provide the visual.

  “Because I’m attracted to you.” Trevor said the words mournfully, like he really didn’t want them to be true.

  Well, too bad, sparky. Jalen didn’t really want to be attracted to him either, but here they were. Playing Trevor’s boyfriend would be worlds easier if he were merely tolerable. A nice dude who wouldn’t act electrified when Jalen touched him, but instead be a boring nice guy who fell firmly in the friend zone. That would be awesome right about now. But no, he got stuck with Sparky Don’t-Give-Me-Nicknames McPrickly Pants who drove Jalen straight up a tree—and made his dick stand up and dance. There really was no justice.

  “What? You only into straight guys?”

  “Pretty much.” Trevor shrugged, studying his loafers. He didn’t wear sneakers like a normal dude. Instead, his kicks better belonged in a retirement home. As did his ideas.

  “Straight guys who apparently don’t reciprocate worth shit.” Jalen shook his head. He didn’t get some people. And even as pissed as Trevor made him, Jalen was not that guy. And maybe he could show Trevor what he was missing. “Now that we’ve cleared up my latent straightness, you sure you don’t want to get off? ’Cause that was fun until you bugged out.”

  “I’m sure. Look . . .” Trevor shoved his hands deep into his pockets, which stretched the fabric tight against his groin. His hard-on called him a damn liar, but Jalen only raised an eyebrow and let him continue. “It’s like . . . Look, I wouldn’t mind doing that for you. From time to time, you know? Not as like a thing—”

  “Oh no, we couldn’t have that,” Jalen said in mock horror. Yeah, Trevor had made it plenty clear that any boyfriend behavior was strictly for the show. Although from the sound of it, Trevor didn’t have a thing with anyone, not if he was sucking off random supposedly straight guys and not wanting even a kiss after.

  “I’m just saying—” Trevor’s wide eyes and slack mouth said he thought Jalen was an idiot for not jumping at his offer.

  “That you don’t mind sucking my dick from time to time as long as I treat you like an asshole about it and God forbid I try to touch you?”

  Trevor grimaced, looking like some dog had let a cheesy one rip. “Kind of. Never mind.”

  “Yeah. Never mind.” Jalen sat up, leaned forward on his elbows.

  “Geez. Never known someone to turn down free blow jobs.” Trevor threw up his hands. “I’m like offering you a free coupon here, and you’re acting like I’m trying to get you to eat Brussels sprouts.”

  “Look, I’m more than a dick, okay? I’m not here for your entertainment, ready to be your boy-toy when you decide to play whatever the hell game it is you play with yourself where you don’t get to get off, but I don’t hook up with head cases.”

  “Glad we cleared that up.” Trevor turned, stomped to the door by the chair, opened it to the closet, and cursed.

  Jalen didn’t even bother hiding his laugh. Of freaking course Trevor couldn’t remember which was the closet door. He had more stupid rules and assumptions than any out guy Jalen had ever known. Dude might as well just move back in to the closet he’d crawled from. “Other door.”

  “Whatever.” Trevor stomped to the room door. “How about you just don’t talk to me?”

  “Fine by me,” Jalen called after him. Oh the next few days were going to be so much fun. And damned if, despite all that, Jalen’s body didn’t still thrum with the memory of that orgasm and the brief moment when he’d been able to hold Trevor, stripped free of all this stupid shit.

  Chapter Seven

  @NextDirectionShow Are you ready to meet our groups? Today’s your first chance!

  @CarsonNCarter I seriously cannot even with all the excitement right now.

  “Today we’re heading out for your first public engagement with your fans!” Dawn sounded way too chipper for a Saturday morning at eight a.m. All the groups were hanging in the dining room, spilling over into the attached family room/lounge area. Breakfast was bagels—again—and cream cheese, which Trevor hated, or doughnuts, which he knew better than to touch. Neither would do his blood sugar any favors, but once again he was limited on options. He hadn’t slept the best last night, sneaking back into the room after Jalen was asleep (or at least pretending). He didn’t much care which—as long as Jalen let him be, that was all that mattered.

  But now he was bleary-eyed and reaching for a rare cup of coffee while Dawn continued describing their outing to Metropolis at Metrotown, a mall in the Burnaby suburb. The coffee tasted bitter, and despite being two time zones from Iowa, it left an aftertaste of guilt. His family’s church didn’t hold with caffeine.

  Dawn shared that they’d have about an hour drive, then a meet and greet that had been publicized on social media. They had swag—buttons and stickers and postcards—to give away, and the group that gave away the most swag would win that particular challenge.

  “And we’re only taking two vans for the cast, to save on cash, so that means we’ll split Keg Stand in half and let you all squeeze in! And remember to post some pics of your day, too! Lots of pics!”

  Oh goody.

  “Shotgun!” The biggest Keg Stand guy, who was named Austin and could, no shit, eat four bagels at a single sitting, yelled from his perch on one of the dining room chairs. Trevor seriously feared for the poor chair’s integrity.

  “Backseat,” Carter and Carson called in unison.

  And thus, Trevor ended up squashed against Jalen in the middle seat for the drive there, with Dawn on Jalen’s other side, and a Keg Stand guy joining Carter and Carson in the back. They left the city neighborhoods and downtown behind them for a drive to the tract housing and wide roads that looked like any other suburb—a bit more Asian businesses than the Midwestern cities he was used to, but the Saturday shopping traffic felt familiar.

  About halfway there, Trevor’s phone started buzzing, but he had no way of digging it out of his pocket.

  Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. He’d forgotten to check his blood sugar before they left, and there was no way he could do it now, not with Dawn right there. He couldn’t risk any of the show higher-ups finding out. Or his group members. He didn’t even dare reset the alarm with both of them right there.

  “Your pocket sure is happy to see me,” Jalen said when the phone went off a third time before timing out.

  Trevor gave him a look that was supposed to remind Jalen they weren’t speaking, but all it did was make Jalen grin. Resting bitch face fail.

  Should he have a protein bar now to hedge against breakfast being too carby, or would that look weird? He couldn’t risk Dawn finding out his secret. He tried to reach his backpack at his feet but gave up. He’d just have to trust his body. Ha. Not exactly smart.

  “Geez. Stop wiggling,” Jalen said and gave him a shove with his hip. The contact sent sparks shivering down Trevor’s leg, little icy-hot reminders of how good Jalen’s body could feel against his own.

  “Play nice, guys.” Dawn had a warning tone to her voice. How much had Jalen told her about what was going on between them?

  Oh please, let the answer be nothing. Because nothing was going on with them right? One bungled blow job did not a relationship make.

  “We are. And I called M . . . Ivy again last night, so you can lay off that, to
o,” Jalen added in a whisper loud enough for Trevor to catch, but not so loud the others would hear.

  “Good. And that was a great job on the Backstreet video. You guys sounded like you’re really coming along.”

  Translation: They were still nowhere near as cohesive as the other two groups, but Dawn was happy to string them along with some confidence-boosting compliments.

  “We’re all right.” Jalen leaned back in his seat. “Once Trevor here lets out his full range, ain’t nobody gonna stop us.”

  The back of Trevor’s neck got all prickly and hot. Despite Trevor acting like a grade A wackadoo last night, Jalen still had nice things to say. It was almost like he really believed in Trevor’s voice, which was more than anyone else had. His music professors all said he needed to learn better control. His a cappella group members all said he needed more showmanship. His dad said he needed more humility in his singing and less pop. Everyone wanted something different from him. And Carter and Carson were never happy either. But with Jalen it felt different. Like Jalen didn’t want him to be someone else—he just wanted him to be more Trevor.

  And that was a pretty nice feeling. It made his chest expand, made him feel like maybe, just maybe, today was the day he’d hit all the notes.

  But that feeling quickly faded once they actually reached the mall. It was a big indoor, multistory affair with a lot of higher-end stores, as well as the type of accessory and cheap T-shirt places that appealed to teen shoppers. Each group had tables set up in an atrium on the first floor, and dozens of young women milled around. Trevor’s phone buzzed again in his pocket. Quadruple crap. Did he take his medicine this morning?

  He looked around for a restroom to go test his blood, but Dawn grabbed his elbow. “Come on, let’s get started.”

  Two hours later, his feet hurt, his hand was cramped from signing things, and he was starting to feel a bit dizzy. Time for a power bar. Or something. Maybe he was feeling so lousy because he really had skipped the medicine. He dashed to the water fountain and gulped down a pill before he could overthink it. He really needed to test—