Chapter Four

Isthmus

 

There was a warmth on his cock that could only mean one thing. Izzy let out a low groan, easing his hips forward to slide a little deeper. He knew a mouth when he felt one—and the tight pressure of someone taking him down their throat. The buzz of their hum only added to his pleasure, slamming him closer to the edge.

“Shit.” He let out a sigh, reaching for their head. He loved being in control and choosing exactly how fast and how far they went, even if they choked a little. Most guys liked that.

His arms moved so slow as he strained for them, and when he touched their hair, it was nothing like he’d expected. His eyes were pinned shut, but he knew exactly who it was, their head bobbing as they swallowed around him.

“Fuck, Rowes.”

Izzy started, blinking awake in the dark hotel room. His cock was throbbing, painful and urgent as his gut thrummed with how close he was to the edge. A steady, warm pressure was against his cock, the friction dry and hot.

Only it was Izzy that was moving, and the person in his arms was Rowes, not some one-time hookup that would spend the night asking for a selfie that ‘of course, they would never share with anyone’.

He froze, forcing his body to go still as his heart hammered. Rowes was in his arms, his face plastered to Izzy’s chest with a bit of drool on his pec. When they’d settled down to watch a movie, Izzy had been too tired to move to his own bed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before, although they usually didn’t end up quite so close.

And Izzy wasn’t usually this hard, either. He had an active enough sex life that his desires were usually kept to a minimum, and he was the lucky kind of person who forgot his dreams when he woke.

But he wasn’t going to forget that one anytime soon. It had been Rowes—Rowes—on his knees somewhere in the world. There had been the sound of a director shouting in the background, and the hum of conversation from his co-workers.

What the hell?

“You okay?”

Izzy bit his tongue, nearly choking at Rowes’ words. Rowes shifted, moving his leg where it was jammed between Izzy’s thighs. He had to stifle his gasp, his cock throbbing as snippets of his dream came rushing back.

It had started as an innocent kiss during a scene, with Rowes leaning in and his eyes closed. Seconds later it had turned into a battle of teeth and tongue until Rowes had dropped to his knees.

It wasn’t real.

“Did you have a nightmare?” asked Rowes, rubbing his cheek against Izzy’s pec. “Your heart is pounding, and you’re sweating like crazy. It’s okay. It was just a dream.” His voice was sleepy, and so utterly adorable that the guilt grabbed Izzy tighter. His friend was just looking out for him, and he was a few solid strokes away from coming.

“Can you move?” asked Izzy, his voice strained as fresh sweat broke over his skin. He could smell the saltiness that reeked of panic and uncertainty. “I have to get up.” He started sitting up when Rowes didn’t move right away.

“Comfy,” Rowes protested, wrapping his arms around Izzy’s neck and clinging tight as he tried to sit up. Rowes shuffled his legs, freezing as Izzy let out a pained moan and the firm pressure of Rowes’ leg turned into something excruciatingly good.

“Are you…hard?” Rowes pulled away as if he’d been snapped with static, his feet tangling in the sheets and sending him sprawling back on the bed.

Fuck. Izzy tried to look away—he really did—but he failed miserably. Rowes was splayed out on the bed, his hair dark against the white hotel sheets. His shirt had rucked up, displaying the lower edge of his abs and the dusting of hair there. It drew Izzy’s gaze like a beacon, his dream sinking his claws in.

It didn’t help that Rowes had an impressive semi. It was something Izzy had seen so many times before, but he’d never reacted to it. He was gay, but Rowes just…wasn’t his type.

“Nice dream?” asked Rowes, letting out a laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He shrugged.

Izzy couldn’t laugh with him. Something was lodged in his chest, and he could barely breathe through the urgency of it.

“Those fucking videos,” mumbled Izzy, drawing a hand through his hair. Without them, he wouldn’t be in this situation with his cock throbbing while his best friend was giggling away like one of them had had a wet dream at a sleepover.

“What?” Rowes paused, his hand hovering in the air where he’d been reaching out. “The videos?” He swallowed, the click of his throat audible.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Izzy, throwing back the rest of the covers before scrambling off the bed. It looked even worse with his cock jabbing straight out, the thin material of his boxers doing very little to hide him from view. He was the kind of guy who couldn’t exactly hide what he was packing. “I just can’t seem to get them out of my mind,” said Izzy, letting out a sigh as he very pointedly avoided Rowes’ gaze and searched for his pants instead. Why the hell had he taken them off in the first place?

His heart throbbed until he could feel the beat in his throat. “How many people have watched them and seen the same things? Every time I look at you, they think that all I can focus on is the thought of kissing you.” He tugged his hair, pulling a few strands up by the roots.

“Are you?”

Izzy finally looked at Rowes, swallowing when he met pale skin and wide eyes. Rowes looked fucking terrified of the idea. Would it really be so bad? Izzy shook his head. Of course, it would be. His relationships never ended well, and he was not dragging Rowes through that trash fire.

But why am I even considering it?

“I’m going to go,” said Rowes, pulling the hem of his shirt down to cover his exposed belly. Izzy followed the move with his gaze, focusing on the peek of skin just beneath his shirt. He didn’t need to wonder what Rowes looked like underneath because he knew every inch. He was without flaw and probably one of the most beautiful people Izzy had ever met. But that was nothing to the person he was.

“Rowes, don’t.” Izzy reached for him, but Rowes shrugged him off before starting for the door and grabbing his shoes along the way. “Rowes, please, it’s not like that. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m going to crash with Ainslie for tonight,” said Rowes, letting out a yawn as he reached the door. They’d stayed up too late watching movies again, and he looked so fucking tired. “I just don’t think I can stay here right now.”

“Rowes.” He let out a sigh of defeat.

“Not tonight, Izzy. I can’t. With Lorena, and now this… I just can’t.” He reached for the door, slipping out before Izzy could say another word.

“Fuck!” Izzy grabbed his hair, tugging tight as he went to his knees. What the fuck was happening with them? He was still hard, but now he was alone, their friendship starting to shatter like dropped glass on pavement. “Rowes…wait.”

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the door handle and twisting it open. It didn’t matter that his key was still in the room somewhere, or that it was deathly quiet with early morning stillness. “Rowes!”

The hall was empty, with no sign of Rowes on the patterned carpeting. There was a distant sound of a humming ice machine, and a whisper of someone’s television, but otherwise nothing.

What is Ainslie’s room number? They’d talked about it when they’d arrived at the hotel, and Ainslie had been going on and on about the view she had been hoping for. They were near a river and the water sparkled in the daylight and all that crap.

Sixty-five. That had to be it. It was two floors above, and the nicer rooms were higher up in his experience. Rowes had probably taken the elevator, so he darted for the stairs, pounding up them and throwing his way through the door to the sixth floor.

Passing a very startled-looking teenager, Rowes pushed his way through, stumbling to Ainslie’s room and knocking as loud as he could. Someone down the hall poked out of their room, shaking their head and slamming their own door when Izzy didn’t quit knocking.

“Ainslie, open the door. I know he’s in there,” Izzy growled, trying the doorknob, even though it was still locked. He heard a click on the other side, then a scraping noise as the deadbolt was presumably slid back.

Izzy took a step back, blinking when Connley was the one who opened the door. Do I have the wrong room? Connley had talked about being close to the gym, which was the opposite to the room with a view.

“Yeah, you caught me,” said Connley grimly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s your problem?” Connley slipped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Is Rowes in there?” asked Izzy, trying to see inside before the door slid shut.

“Nope,” said Connley, flicking a bit of dust from his shoulder that Izzy couldn’t see. “Haven’t seen him since the bus.”

He must’ve had the wrong room. Maybe he mixed up what Ainslie had said…but he could remember it so clearly.

“Where’s Ainslie?” asked Izzy, looking up and down the hall. He lowered his voice when he saw the person looking out from their room again.

Connley shrugged. “Sleeping, I guess.” He looked a bit relieved, which didn’t make any sense. Izzy didn’t care because there was only one person on his mind.

“We can check the gym for Rowes if you want. I was going to head there in the morning anyway, so why not three a.m.?” Connley rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before cracking a yawn. “Let’s go.”

“No. He said he was going to stay with Ainslie. He won’t be in the gym,” said Izzy, shaking his head.

“Did you guys fight or something?”

Izzy swallowed, his throat clicking with how dry his mouth was. This was so much worse than a fight. The base of his nose ached as he held back his tears.

Connley must’ve taken his silence for a yes because he hummed under his breath before patting Izzy on the shoulder. “Then he probably went to the gym to cool off. There is nothing better than punching something when you’re upset.”

That made way too much sense for so early in the morning, especially when it came to Rowes. He was the unfortunate type who liked to go for a run to blow off steam while Izzy usually stuck to the free weights.

Connley turned, shuffling his socked feet down the hall before gesturing Izzy onward. “Come on. The halls should be empty, so we won’t run into any fans of yours.”

Izzy padded after him, his heart starting to slow. Connley always had that effect on people. Izzy had never seen him riled once, not even after numerous retakes when he still managed to make everyone believe in the role. Someone could come into a shoot pissed off, but once Connley got a hold of them, they couldn’t even remember why they were angry.

“So, what’s this fight about?” asked Connley, heading for the stairs. Their socks were going to be ruined after the trek. Even in the midst of summer, there were still stray bits of sand and dirt that made its way onto the carpet of every floor.

“A misunderstanding,” said Izzy, dragging a hand through his hair as he let out a sigh. “I just want to explain myself, is all.”

Connley nodded, holding the stairwell door open for him. “You guys will figure it out. You always do.” He let out a small smile. “I remember the first time you two worked together on set. You were still bickering as if you were in high school and fixing each other’s hair. The makeup artist absolutely hated you.”

Izzy shook his head. Those had been the times. There had been no pressure back then, only hope and effort. The effort was still there, but now that they’d made it big, he’d lost that little part that had made his career so special. Rowes was probably the only one who kept him going.

“Then there was the season two rewrite,” said Connley, barely out of breath as they reached the bottom floor. The guy was like a machine, plodding on in a steady rhythm. You’d never know from his wiry frame. “I thought you were going to walk out when they tried to kill off Rowes’ character. It’s a good thing you made that threat. My life wouldn’t be the same without you two.”

As they reached the gym, Connley held the door open for him, padding over to the elliptical as Izzy straddled the nearest weight bench. There wasn’t much to lift in the gym, which always seemed to be a fallback of some hotels. Maybe they didn’t expect their patrons to want to work up as much of a sweat as they did at a twenty-four-hour place, or they were worried about a lawsuit if someone dropped a weight on their neck.

“You didn’t tell me what you guys were really fighting about,” said Connley as he started up the machine, somehow making the flailing look elegant. Izzy was terrified of that particular piece of equipment. He could always picture slipping, his leg ending up between the pedals and snapping in two.

“Have you ever watched a fan video?” asked Izzy, casting his gaze around the too-clean gym. It was a stupid idea to look for Rowes here, but maybe it was a good thing to give him some space so he didn’t feel like he was being pressured.

“I presume you mean the ones where you and Rowes are lost in each other’s eyes.” Connley snorted before upping his speed. “It’s hard to miss them. All my apps are plastered with you guys, no matter how many times I snooze you. What about them?”

“Did you ever believe them?” asked Izzy, his gut going tight. Black weights from five to twenty kilograms called to him, but he made no move to reach for them. They would probably slip right through his fingertips if he made the attempt.

“I do my best not to picture you two naked. I see enough of that on set.”

“They’ve made me question a few things,” said Izzy, putting his hand flat on the bench. His palm sank into the cushion, the material sticking to his sweaty palm. He was out of shape if he was sweating just from the stairs.

“Like…” Connley trailed off, raising one brow. Somehow he kept his voice steady, even as he upped his speed.

“Just…things.” Real fucking mature. But he did not want to explain a wet dream to his co-worker—not when he’d already humiliated himself enough for one day.

Connley rolled his eyes. “Okay then. You two will figure it out. As for the fan videos, they are just like the set. They show things in a different light, with makeup and innuendos, but it’s only a play. The only people who know the truth are the two of you.”