wetting myself.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
Was that why Mr. Ford wanted to see me on the video? Because he knew it couldn’t be Brent?
So then why let me come upstairs?
Because he’d seen me and determined I wasn’t a threat?
Hadn’t I just been thinking how lucky I was not to look imposing?
Now, I wished I resembled a more muscular John Cena.
This was crazy. I was crazy. What was I doing here?
Freddy was right.
Tony was right.
I had no business playing Boy Detective.
I turned back to the elevator, relieved to see that on the residential floors there were no secretly coded keypads, just the same two boring buttons you find in every other building.
I was just about to press “down” when two hundred pounds of muscle ran down the hall and grabbed me.
The force of the impact, and subsequent restraint, knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t breath. Or scream. Was I about to “disappear” too?
“Brent!” shouted an excited Lucas Fisher/Ford. He swept me off my feet and twirled me around. “My god, I thought I’d never see you again!”
Already woozy with panic and self-doubt, I was completely disoriented by this sudden embrace and dizzying spin. I didn’t even notice he’d gone from turning me to carrying me until we were inside his apartment and he’d kicked the door closed behind him.
“Oh baby, I missed you so much.” He pushed me against the door and brought his face around for a kiss. His body pressed against mine with a comfortable intimacy. Well, comfortable for him. For me, it was a little on the awkward side. Although, I suppose I should have been grateful that his initial embrace in the hallway, although overly enthusiastic, was the product of horniness, not hostility.
The tenderness of his touch played in sharp contrast to the hardness of his muscles. His pecs, abs, and quads felt like granite.
The other hardness he pressed against me was equally impressive. Had it been meant for me, I’d have been appreciative. As it was, I felt guilty, like I’d stolen his erection from someone more deserving.
His handsome face, even better-looking than on video, was radiant with joy.
Until a cloud eclipsed its brilliance.
Uh-oh.
There it was.
The second glance.
“Wha…” he began. He blinked in confusion. “You’re… you’re not…”
Suddenly, the arms that embraced me pushed me roughly against the door.
“You FUCK!” he screamed. “Who the FUCK are you?”
And… there’s that hostility I was worried about.
He reached down to put his hands around my neck. He didn’t tighten them. Not yet, at least. But I wasn’t about to take any chances.
Lucas had almost a foot in height and at least sixty pounds on me. I knew from years of self-defense training that wouldn’t do him much good.
I swept my arms up between his and quickly spread them apart, removing his hands from my neck. Had I felt truly threatened by Lucas, I’d have probably just kneed him in the balls at that point. It had the advantage of being a move I could pull off quickly and it always worked.
But once I did that, I doubted we could have a friendly discussion.
Instead, I dropped to my knees, darted between his legs before he had time to process what was happening, and was now in position behind him.
I considered pushing him against the door and bending his arm back to keep him in place. That way, he’d be forced to listen. But again, I decided on a more peaceful approach.
Because in the space of a moment, I knew Lucas hadn’t hurt Brent. Whatever his feelings for the boy were, he was unmistakably overjoyed at the thought of a reunion.
And given the confidence of that embrace, there was no way the relationship between them was unrequited. Lucas moved in for that kiss with no hesitation or fear. He knew it’d be returned.
At some point, outside of work and, I bet, behind Charlie’s back, Lucas and Brent had become lovers.
I didn’t blame him for being incensed to discover I’d lied to him.
I took a few steps backward and assumed a defensive stance. Legs wide for support and arms raised to protect my body and face.
I had a feeling that what I thought was a clever ruse to get myself into Lucas’s apartment was, instead, a cruel and heartbreaking deception.
I didn’t want to hurt him again.
But Lucas was enraged and built like a linebacker.
He turned and faced me, huffing like a bull facing a matador. His nostrils flared with anger and his eyes blazed. He was flushed with anger, his cheeks scarlet and so hot I could feel their warmth from a foot away.
Even so, I was struck by just how beautiful he was. Too bad whatever came next could get real ugly.
I took another step back, readjusting my arms to a less obviously defensive position. I faced my hands toward him and hoped he could judge body language.
“I can explain,” I said.
“Not after I break your jaw,” he growled. But he didn’t step forward.
“Brent was my friend. I know you cared about him. I’m trying to find him. I came because I thought you’d want to help.”
Lucas had one of those broad, open faces that showed everything he felt. His eyes softened a few degrees but his teeth remained clenched.
“Why did you lie? Why did you say you were him? ”
I could see Lucas was wavering between trust and anger. Hope and betrayal tugged at him in equal measures.
I took another step back. This seemed to make him even angrier. Or more suspicious. What had I done wrong?
I had to play him. But how? What did I know about Lucas Fisher, now Lucas Ford? Nothing.
Except… except I’d seen him before. In the first scene he ever taped with Brent. In most porn, by definition, you’re going to see a lot of skin. But in Lucas’s encounter with Brent, he also revealed what lay underneath.
The desire to be dominated.
From the first moments, it was clear how enraptured Lucas was by his younger partner.
The balance of power between them was striking. Despite Lucas’s age and size advantage over Brent, he immediately fell into the compliant role. Whether that was his general nature, or something triggered by the thought of being controlled by a smaller guy, I didn’t know.
For whatever reason, though, it seemed like surrendering to a little-brother type flipped a button in Lucas’s head. Amend that: flipped buttons on both of his heads.
During my years hustling, I learned a lot of lessons. One of the most lucrative was this: If a guy had a button, it always paid to push it.
“That’s enough,” I barked. I surprised Lucas, and myself, by reversing my slow retreat and briskly striding toward him. I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him against the door. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to assert authority.
“Cut the crap,” I ordered. I got up in his face like a drill sergeant. Like a lover. “I said I was Brent because I had to talk to you. I didn’t know how else to get you to let me up.
“I’ve spoken to everyone else I could think of. No one seems to know where he’s gone. You’re my last hope, Lucas. You may be Brent’s last hope, too.”
