Victor heard it anyway. He’d heard it all night. The thought that the same darkness could have festered in his own heart was sickening. “You don’t rub it in my face. I shouldn’t have gotten bent about Al. I’m so sorry.”
“I forgive you.” Andy felt the quick intake of breath. He stood back a little, enough to get his hands on Victor’s face and make eye contact. “I do. I love you. If you’ll talk to our counselor about this, we don’t ever have to talk about it again.”
Victor’s whole body sagged with relief. “I will. I promise.”
“I think we should talk about it, mind you.” He had to say that. “But not right now. Have something to eat, for Christ’s sake, you look like you’re about to faint.” It was a cold meal, because it had been a hot day. Andy cut Victor off at two glasses of white wine, and only had one himself. He sent Victor in for a shower while he pushed the room-service cart into the hall and went to check on Molly. The security guy said he would take her for a walk after his relief came. Andy thanked him and opened the door to their room.
“Oh.” The security guy made an inquiring face. “It might get a little loud in here.” A stifled laugh. Andy went in and double-locked the door.
He was sitting up against the headboard, naked, when Victor came out of the bathroom. The robe was over a chair a second later, and Victor was on the bed with his arms around Andy’s waist and his head on a thigh. Andy dug a hand into his damp hair and tugged gently. Victor looked up. Andy said,
“Don’t you ever look at me that way again.”
“What way?”
“Like you think I’m going to hit you.”
“Is that how I looked?” Victor wriggled closer and sat up. Andy’s hand slid to his neck, tracing around where that chain should be. Where it would be again as soon as they were done filming. “Maybe I thought you should hit me.”
Andy made an annoyed sound. “What possible good could that do? Plus I’d have messed up your pretty face, and the producers would have put me in a cage, and the tabloids would have gotten hold of it. What a fucking mess that would be. And besides, I probably would have broken my hand because what do I know about hitting people.”
“Have you ever?”
“No. When I was getting beat up I was like this.” Andy did a cowering thing with his arms protecting his face.
“What’s the worst you ever got hurt.” It wasn’t quite a question. Victor barely knew why he asked. He still had his arms around Andy; now his face was against his husband’s chest. An arm came around his ribs. Every little extra bit of skin-to-skin contact felt so good.
“You’ve taken a lot more damage,” Andy said softly. “The guys who beat me up in New York cracked a rib. I went right back out on stage the next night, black eye and all.”
“The show must go on.”
“Yes it fucking must. So.” He got his free hand on Victor’s side, pushing him up and over. Victor looked up at him, surprised. Andy leaned over, planting his hands on the bed on either side of Victor’s head. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you.”
“Couldn’t.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t good next door either. I had all day to nap, though.
Molly thought I finally turned into a real dog.” Victor smiled. “I’m going to wear you out now. You’re going to sleep.”
“I’m not called till ten.”
“Yes, I know.” Andy lowered his head and rubbed his face against Victor’s. Didn’t kiss him, not yet, not on the mouth. Everywhere else, though. Hands and mouth all over that glorious pliant body, turning him, moving his arms and legs to get access to every inch of skin. Victor tried to get his hands on Andy a few times, but kept failing. Finally stopped trying to do that, and started trying not to come until Andy kissed him. He was dying for a kiss. Andy knew it. When at length he spoke again, it was to say, “How do you want me now.”
“Any fucking way,” Victor said. “Only kiss me.”
“Are you going to come when I kiss you?”
Oh Jesus. “Uh,” Victor managed. Andy laughed against his skin. Then he had Victor flat on his back again, lube in his hand, slickening himself and pushing between Victor’s thighs. Stretching out on top of him with his mouth against the necklace tattoo at the base of Victor’s throat. Victor felt teeth, strained against him, clutching at him. “God, Andy, please.” They moved
together. Andy was making the same kind of noises Victor was. Victor was past thinking, beyond a sort of hazy surprise that he hadn’t gone over yet.
Then Andy’s rhythm changed, he made a harsh sound, and finally, finally, he was kissing Victor. He uttered something, not really a word, absorbing Victor’s spasm and the breathless cry.
Then he let himself go, saying “Love you” against Victor’s mouth. Cock throbbing, mind blank for a moment. He’d gone harder than intended. He wasn’t going to apologize. At least he wasn’t inside. He pushed up a little, felt Victor’s rib cage expand, saw the tracks of tears running down from his closed eyes. Fuck. Andy moved, detached himself, slid off to the side. Still with a hand on Victor, still with their faces close together. “Sweetheart. Did I hurt you?”
Victor shook his head slightly. “You kissed me.” He was sweaty and sticky, and his back was aching. From fatigue, and from being pinned down during that climax. He needed to stretch. He didn’t want to move.
“I always will.” Andy kissed him again. “Be right back.” He didn’t want to move but his movie star deserved some after-care. He pried himself off the bed and went to the bathroom, came back with a warm damp washcloth to wipe off Victor’s
