“I know. I love it.” Victor was leaning on his elbows, Andy pressed to his back. Left hand closed around his throat and right hand cupping his balls.
Victor closed his eyes, tense with arousal under that fondling, stroking hand.
Andy’s mouth was against his neck, on the side of his face. “I’ll come on this fucking wall.” It might have been a warning. Andy took his hand away. Then he was caressing with the lube. Victor’s back arched, an invitation. Andy’s left hand relaxed, sliding around to skim down his spine. “Jesus, Andy. Do it.” Victor widened his stance.
Andy set his teeth lightly on the side of that strong neck as he engaged.
He might have growled. Victor gave him some resistance and made a sound, half a laugh and half a moan. Andy’s mouth on the back of his neck, teeth and tongue and hot breath. “Mmm, Victor. I love fucking a movie star.”
Going slow, working with their height difference. The heat, the pressure.
Andy had one arm around Victor’s ribs now and the other hand flat against the wall.
Another half a laugh, turning into some sort of wordless vocalization because Andy was all the way in. Victor tipped his head back, turning it enough for another tongue-tangling kiss. Then, “Yes. Fuck me. More.”
Andy started to move. “Jesus, you’re so hot.”
Victor was braced now, taking it. “More. Nobody else.” Breathless, gasping. “Oh God. Nobody ever. Only you.”
“Only you. Always you.” This was always fast, neither of them could make it last. “God damn. Christ, not yet, fuck.” Andy was gasping again, mouth against Victor’s trapezius. “With me?”
“Always. Barely. Hurry.” Victor was still braced on the wall. Andy withdrew carefully, turned him, kissed him. Then he was on his knees and Victor was in his mouth. “Jesus!” As hungry as the very first time. Victor couldn’t hold it any longer. His back was against the wall and his knees were weak. Andy still had him. “Holy God, that mouth.” A stifled laugh.
Andy let him go and sat back on his heels, catching his breath. Looking up at Victor’s flushed face and sleepy eyes, thumbs rubbing over the gecko tattoo, and the rattlesnake. He pressed his lips to the list of dates that started just above Victor’s knee. Key dates in their love affair, inked upside-down, ascending his thigh. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“You are.” They smiled at each other. Victor offered a hand. Andy got to his feet. One more kiss, and then they were stumbling to the shower. Ten minutes later, Victor was about to turn off the water when he felt Andy’s arms around him again. “You’ve got to be kidding.” A soundless laugh against his neck. Nothing else happened. Only the embrace, and Andy’s face against his, for another quiet minute.
Then Andy let him go and reached past him to the controls. Handed him a towel, flipped the switch for the heat, and said, “I really love you.”
“I know you do. I love you too.”
Victor had to find the right moment to talk to his friend Janis. She was in town with her tour manager Niall and his husband, novelist Geoffrey Anand.
They were all staying out in Glendale with Janis’ parents. And they were all busy; Geoffrey had three books under contract, and Janis was developing a new album. But she was the person Victor went to at the very beginning, after that first earth-shattering night with Andy, and she was the person he wanted to talk to now. Ping me when you have a few minutes to talk?
Her reply came promptly: Are you on set?
Yeah but I don’t have much to do. I’m still on desk duty Uh right. She suggested a time; Victor checked his schedule and confirmed. A few hours later she called. “What’s up, Mr. Garcia?”
“Well, what’s up with you? Fill me in.” He listened with enjoyment while Janis raved about the music she and her collaborators were preparing. It helped that he knew them: cellist Isabelle Randall, who’d played on the cast recording for ‘The Ghost of Carlos Gardel,’ and their co-star Tomás Calderón. “You know you’re going to have to give us Tomás for a minute.
He’s coming to Buenos Aires with us on the movie tour.”
“Yes, and if I didn’t think we were going to be playing there eventually I would be green with envy. He gave me half the tracks we’re arranging, you know. I was like, what songs can we turn into tango that aren’t tango to begin with, and he was all, well I like to play these. He’s a hell of a piano player.”
“Glad it’s working out.”
“So why did you really want to talk.”
Victor bit his lip, glad they weren’t in the same room so she couldn’t see him stifle that laugh. This was one of those friendships where they had so little in common, but somehow understood each other completely. “I was having a little bit of vertigo over Andy.”
Janis made a confused Scooby Doo noise. Those two had been inseparable for almost five years. “What happened?”
“Nothing bad. We had a really good morning a couple days ago, and I fell down this rabbit hole of how many times I could have lost him.”
“What in the … do you mean physically lost him? Was there more scary shit? You told me about the time your cars got wrecked. I thought that was the worst thing until you actually got shot.”
Victor was sitting in his dressing room, feet up on the counter, head
tipped back to stretch his neck. “It was, but it wasn’t. We agreed to never revisit the hate mail, but once you’ve seen it, it’s hard to forget. It’s hard to read that someone thinks you should be tied to a barbed-wire fence and used for target practice.” He hadn’t meant to say
