AFTER THE day he’d had, Kyle had needed a shower almost as much as the coffee he was drinking. He sat on his couch and smiled at Colt’s number on his phone, wondering if it was easier to play music all day on a couple of hours of sleep than it had been to choreograph. Thirty was staring at him and laughing its ass off.
How totally fucking worth it, though. His bed had been a playground all damn night. Everything about Colt was fun and sexy, right down to “cher.” He liked feeling appreciated. If the man was ready for round two, he was game. Honestly, the worst part of his whole day had been waiting for after six to call.
“Let’s see if I’m still on your mind, hot stuff.” Bouncing a little in his seat, he hit Call.
It took three rings for Colt to pick up, husky laughter sounding before the “Mmm, cher. How you be?”
Seriously? Chills. “Fabulous. How was your session? Or are you still playing? You want to call me back?”
“Everybody just left. I laid down the work today. All the folks here got gigs to run to tonight, but I was looking to hear from you.”
“Yeah? You just made my day.” He hopped up off the couch, grinning, and headed for his room to get dressed.
“Good deal. Where you want me to meet you?”
“Um.” Dinner. And something fun. “You’re Midtown, so I’ll come up to you. In Duffy Square on the red stairs in about a half an hour. Sound good?”
“Surely do. I’m all yours, cher.”
“You’re so sweet, Colt.” Genuine. It just kept him grinning. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there.” There was a musical whistle and then a click.
“Fantastic.” He danced around his room, dressing quickly in jeans, a tank, and one of his funky dancer T-shirts with the wide neckline. A little off the shoulder was fun, right?
The subway to Times Square took him no time at all, and the next thing he knew he was headed for the big red stairs. They were a landmark for tourists, but he always thought they were oddly romantic at night when all the lights came on.
Colt was there in his white T-shirt and jeans, dark eyes drinking in everything. He looked so good.
“Colt!” he shouted and waved. He picked up the pace, an extra spring in his already happy feet, and climbed the wide steps. “Hi.” He sat down next to Colt, close enough to get an arm around his waist.
“Mmm. Cher.” God, that smile lit up the world. “How’s you?”
“I’m a little tired. Someone kept me up all night, and I worked hard today.” Okay, he’d waited at least thirty seconds. That was plenty. He leaned in and took a quick kiss.
Colt’s hand burned where it touched his thigh, all the way through his jeans. “Bad someone. You want I should beat him?”
“Nope.” Damn. He covered Colt’s hand with his. “I was actually thinking about asking him to do it again.” They could skip dinner. Or have dinner and skip drinks after. Or have drinks at his place after.
Or he could just jump Colt right here on the steps in the middle of Times Square.
Jesus. Last night he was hoping for some fun, and it ended up hot. Tonight he was starting hot, and who knew where it was going. What a fucking score this guy was.
“I like that. You. Me. An encore.”
“Looking forward to it.” You are not seventeen anymore. He was perfectly capable of making himself wait at least until after they’d gotten something to eat. Doing the adult thing. Getting to know this lovely, lovely man sitting next to him even if Colt was making his brain short out just by being so close.
“Uh-huh. Does now work for you?” Colt leaned in close, lips near his ear. “I been sitting on that stool picking all day, feeling the ache of your cock inside me.”
“Oh fuck, Colt.” The air in the city was pretty polluted, but usually there was plenty of it. At the moment, though, none of it was finding its way into his lungs, and his cock pressed right up against his fly. “Yeah. Yeah, now’s…. Jesus.”
“Mmm. You smell like heaven. I could eat you alive, cher, suck you until you beg for mercy.”
“Baby, I could throw you down right here. How close is your hotel, again?” Because he wasn’t going to make it all the way to Christopher Street.
“Come on.” Colt stood and took his hand, hauling him up. He loved how Colt’s fingers burned, how he could feel each individual fingertip.
“That’s the plan.” He took a deep breath and told his boner to cool it, but it didn’t really pay attention, and the walk across the street was pretty awkward. He had the picture in his head now, Colt’s tight curls down between his thighs, and it wasn’t letting him go.
“Uh-huh.” Colt dragged him into a lobby and to an elevator, pushing him right in. “’M on six.”
“Six.” He focused enough to push what he thought was the right button and then leaned back against the doors as they closed, pulling Colt into him. He was already breathless, puffing out air before taking another kiss. Colt tasted like peppermint and coffee and pure unadulterated need.
He pressed his palm into Colt’s groin, pulling it away as the doors opened again. “I’ve got something for you.”
“Mmm. I been hungering for you all day.” Colt wiggled, little ass rocking back and forth like a metronome, tempting him.
“I hear that.” He gripped Colt’s hand tighter. “Room. Go.”
Colt managed to get the card to work, after three tries or so, the light finally going green so the door opened. And it was still closing as Kyle tore open his belt and lowered his fly.
“I liked the sound of that whole begging for mercy thing.” Fuck, his throat was so dry, he could barely get the words out.
“I got this.” Colt hit his knees, fishing Kyle’s cock out and sucking it down in a single, breath-taking, soul-stealing move.
“Fuck!” he shouted. Or he thought he did. The sudden shock of Colt’s mouth on him made him dizzy, and he reached out to brace a hand on the wall over Colt’s head. He groaned, that he was sure of, because he felt it vibrate in him all the way to his toes. “You’ve so got this. Fuck.”
Colt hummed, the sound deep and low, making everything draw up in his balls, his thighs. Then the suction started, steady and fierce and sure.
He wrapped a hand behind Colt’s head, his fingers tangling into the curls. Colt’s mouth was hot, and the pressure was so perfect, he didn’t even bother to hold back or try not to lean right into it like a horny teenager. It felt so fucking good. “Yes! Christ, Colt. Just like that.”
Colt was going to send him over the edge, was taking everything he had to give. He’d already been half-gone in the elevator, and there were no brakes on this train. He thrust once, testing, and gently nudged the back of Colt’s throat, but the second time he disappeared to an impossible depth, making his eyes cross and his hips tremble. “Fuck. Fuck!”
One more thrust and his climax slammed into him, gripping his spine and driving straight through, everything focused in tight. He bucked and shot, forcing himself to let go of Colt as his knees buckled so he could brace both hands on the wall.
Colt gentled his suction, cleaning Kyle’s cock so carefully that his eyes crossed again at the sensations.
“Mmm.” Once he was pretty sure his knees would hold him up, he reached down and stroked his fingers across Colt’s cheek. “You have an amazing mouth, music man.” Colt had to be aching now too, which made all this slow, gentle attention that much sweeter.
Colt nuzzled into his palm, lips swollen and damp. “You taste good, cher.”
He hooked a finger under Colt’s chin, lifting it so he could see those deep brown eyes and licked his lips. “Does that lovely, long cock of yours want my mouth, or my ass, baby?” He grinned.
Colt grunted, his body humping the air hard for a few hard thrusts. “Dieu! Listen to you.”
“Ha!” He laughed. “That, coming from the man that had me by the balls with just a few whispered words in my ear?” He tugged his jeans high enough that they wouldn’t trip him up and then reached down to help Colt to his feet. He grabbed Colt’s T-shirt and tugged it up and off. Then he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a couple of condoms and lube and tossed them on the little desk by the door—about as far as they’d made it into Colt’s hotel room. “You want me? You want to fuck me? Whatever you want, baby. Let’s have some fun.”
Colt grabbed his waistband and hauled him to the bed, then pushed his jeans down past his ass before stripping his shirts off. Those hot fingers dragged down his ribs, and he looked down, staring, expecting to see marks.
“Hot” was all he managed to say. There was more on his mind, but that was the only coherent bit. He shifted, letting his jeans fall so he could step out of them, and kicked them away.
Colt’s lips were still a little swollen and beautiful, and he leaned in to taste them as he went after Colt’s belt. Colt pushed into him, bringing them fully together, lean hips pumping against him in short, staccato motions.
“God, and I was worried I’d come off too eager.” He laughed, playfully fighting Colt a little as he got those well-worn jeans open.
“I ain’t so big on playing games, just gigs.”
Okay, then. Just here to fuck. Dinner won’t be necessary. Got it.
“You won’t get any games from me, baby.” He pushed Colt’s jeans down over delicious hips, and the heavy cock fell right into his fingers. He gave it a couple of long, slow strokes. “Mm. Hello there, fella.”
“Cher….” Colt arched hard. “Christ, I been thinking on you hard all day. You’re like a good high.”
“I can live up to that, I think. Choose your poison on the table there.” He’d brought a few choices. He was picky about his protection, and he’d learned he wasn’t alone. A man liked what a man liked.
Colt grabbed a square, then moved over to pull out a little, well-used tube from the bedside table. He grinned over, smile wide. “Didn’t want to embarrass the cleaning girl with my… bedtime habits, hmm?”
Damn. He liked the view and watched Colt walk back toward him with real interest. “I don’t know, what if it had been a cleaning guy? That might have worked out for you.”
“No, sir. I got a certain person that tore my ass up last night. I’m interested in that.” Colt winked at him. “Be where you are, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Love the one you’re with.” He was happy to be with Colt as long as the musician was in town, which he knew wouldn’t be long. It never was with Colt’s type. But hot, fun, sweet, and talented? He’d take it. And Colt kissed like there was nothing else that mattered in the whole damn world.
He hooked his fingers behind Colt’s neck and looked down, watching as Colt stretched and smoothed the condom on over that pretty cock. “Mmm.”
“You want, cher?” Colt stroked himself, showing off a little.
“Yeah. I want, Colt.” That wasn’t a lie—his body was warming up and considering a round two. He caught Colt’s eyes and gave him a smoldering look. “I want you.”
He backed into the bed, turning and giving Colt a good long look at his ass.
Colt hummed, and then those hands framed his ass, thumbs digging in hard enough to make him shiver.
Oh, this was definitely not going to disappoint. He bent, bracing his arms on the bed, giving Colt an even better view, and looked over his shoulder, pressing back against Colt’s hip. “Come on, baby. Let’s embarrass the neighbors.”
“I can do that, me.” Colt muscled up behind him, slick fingers sliding against him, into him. The touch was sure, firm enough that his abs drew up tight. “I reckon I can play you, make you sing real pretty for me.”
Oh, holy fuck that felt good. He nodded, which was easier than talking at the moment. “Yeah. I… uhn. Seems like you… fuck.” He pressed back into Colt’s hand with a groan. Brain, words, not happening.
Colt sang as he touched, the sounds random and wanton as he pressed deep, slicking and stretching him. He answered back with long, needful moans until it just wasn’t enough anymore and he couldn’t stop himself thrusting back hard. “Please. Colt.”
“Fuck, I love to see you move.” Colt didn’t tease, the heavy prick scraping along his ring of muscles, the pressure enough to make him grunt.
“I love to hear you talk.” It wasn’t just Colt’s sexy accent and the lovely creole lilt in his tone; it was the words Colt used and the way he used them.
Kyle dropped to his elbows to better the angle and arched back toward Colt, groaning as he started to stretch. The burn was so good.
Colt’s hand landed on the small of his back, steadying him as the short, slow strokes became long thrusts. The deliberate movement was maddening in just the right way, making him ache, Colt’s girth impressive. He rolled his hips back gently, meeting each thrust without pushing Colt at all. “Fuck yes.”
“Mm-hmm. No rushing.”
No, Colt was playing his body like that guitar, making each long strum vibrate through him, filling him up with each stroke. He relaxed, enjoying the connection. He was aware of his own reawakened erection, but it was only a light distraction at the moment. He was far more interested in Colt’s lovely sounds and the searing hot fingers digging into his hips.
“Cher.” A line of pure heat slid along his spine as Colt licked him, nice and slow.
He rounded his back, bending into the sensation, showing off his dancer’s flexibility in the best of ways. “I love how you say that.” And how it felt when Colt said it, meaningful and earnest.
Colt groaned and arched, the angle of the thrusts changing, shifting to light him up inside. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as fireworks went off behind his lids. “Colt!”
“Mmm. La. There, hmm? Just so.”
Kyle moaned as Colt repeated the thrust again and again, pounding him mercilessly.
“Uhn. Fuck.” Breathe, he told himself. Colt was way too coherent, way too in control for him to race off on his own. But his balls ached, and he couldn’t help the grunting. Colt was strong as fuck. He used the only leverage he had and clenched down hard around Colt’s cock.
“Cher!” Colt rocked forward, slamming into him with a deep cry that sounded like it came from the pit of his stomach.
He threw his head back and shouted, he and Colt so perfectly in sync, moving together like they’d rehearsed this a million times together, rather than it being something so wonderfully new. “Colt!”
The tempo sped up, driving them deeper, higher, both of them grunting and crying out as the bedsprings laid out a rhythm.
He closed his eyes again, stopped thinking and started just feeling, the way he would with a complicated piece of music. He followed Colt’s strong lead with his whole body, and he began to tremble as a luscious heat spiraled in his belly.
“Soon.” The single word of warning rang in his head.
Soon, he thought, or maybe now. On Colt’s next thrust, he arched back so Colt’s cock hit him just right, and then tightened up, making sure Colt felt every spasm and ripple as his climax rolled through him. “Fuck, yes!”
A spate of patois poured out of Colt, low and foreign and filthy as Colt pressed deep and stiffened.
He was caught for a second between afterglow and laughter at Colt’s dirty little outburst. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t understood a word; he didn’t need to. He reached back and dug his fingers into Colt’s thigh as he fought for a deep breath.
“Damn, cher.” Colt leaned hard against his back.
He nodded, loving the weight of that incredible body on his. “Yeah. Damn.” That little word kind of said it all.
Colt stroked his belly, petting him with lazy, long strokes. It felt so good, but his knees weren’t going to hold him up much longer, let alone Colt too. He shifted, grunting as Colt’s cock left him.
“Ditch that and then let’s relax for a while together, hm?” He wanted to curl up against Colt, lay his head on Colt’s chest. He felt like he needed that, which was something new for him.
“Yeah. Then we can go eat or order pizza. Whatever. I just want to be with you.”
Kyle smiled. “I was thinking the same thing, baby.” He tugged the covers down and climbed into the sheets while he waited for Colt to get back. Colt grabbed a bottle of water and toweled himself off before crawling into his arms, offering him a drink.
“Oh, thanks.” He took a big sip and handed it back. “Mmm. You feel so good.” He could just enjoy this for what it was. They were adults; they didn’t have to apologize for wanting each other. After their first night together, it hadn’t even occurred to Kyle that Colt wouldn’t want exactly what he did. They’d connected on some level he didn’t have words for yet.
Colt kissed him, humming deep in his chest, one hand sliding over his hip and he returned it, in no hurry, enjoying how Colt’s kisses were always so deliberate. Like they were everything. Like Colt could be perfectly happy if that’s all he ever got from Kyle. It fascinated him, how this man seemed to be so present, nowhere but right here, right now.
He settled with a sigh, limbs tangled up with Colt’s, hands working the muscles gently anywhere they could. “That was off the charts, baby.” He chuckled softly. “Way off.”
“Mm-hmm. Magic.” Colt winked at him, rubbed their noses together. “Good end to a work day.”
“That’s for sure. How was your session? That band seems like a bunch of characters.”
“Good. Good. They know what they need, and they ain’t stubborn about other folks coming with ideas.”
“I bet you have a lot of ideas. Are you just playing guitar?” Someone with Colt’s passion for music had to be creative.
“With them? Mostly. They ain’t writers or looking for mandolin or banjo or nothing, but that’s cool. They like to jam.”
“You also play mandolin and banjo?” He wasn’t surprised at all.
“I play piano, mouth harp, guitar—acoustic, electric, and steel. Bass, mandolin, banjo. I pass on a fiddle okay, but it ain’t my thing.” Colt grinned, rubbing against him nice and slow. “I like to play.”
He grinned, letting Colt play all he liked. “Yes, I see that. So you’re a session musician. Are they making an album? Is it all blues? How many tracks are they putting down?”
“They are. It’s sort of blues, sort of folk, a little ska. Indie stuff, with soul. We’ve laid down thirteen. I think they want five more, and then I got to find a new place to play. Timmy, the studio guy? He says I can stay with him if I find a longer gig.”
“That’s cool. You got any nibbles? If you don’t, I have a project I’m working on I need a guitar for. It’s… it might not be your thing, and it’s short-term, but it’s work.” He shrugged. But if it was Colt’s thing? Jesus, it could be incredible.
“Sure.” No hesitation, not even a second. “Playing is what I am. I would play for you.”
“Yeah? Well, you see what Timmy can hook you up with, and then we can talk money and work out a schedule.” And that’ll keep you in town a few more days. He slid his toes along Colt’s calf.
“Okay. I don’t love hotels. I don’t get to cook here, and that’s no fun.”
“It’s not at all! I cook too. We should make dinner sometime.”
“Mm-hmm. I like that. Yes. You say when, I’m there.”
“Mmm. Friday night. Think about what you want to make for me, and we’ll shop first. After my dance studio, the kitchen is my favorite room in the house. It’s laid out just perfectly to get things done. There’s a ton of counter space to roll things out, or for prep work or whatever. I cook all kinds of things.”
He might be a dancer, but he was every inch an athlete, and he ate like one. Healthy, but he wasn’t shy about seconds, and he didn’t worry too much about cheating. He danced at minimum two hours a day, and on a regular day he was up around five or six. He could handle dessert with the best of them.
That said, though? With Colt around, the bedroom was quickly making its way to the top of his list of favorite places to be.
“I like it. I cook all the things—gumbo, étouffée, chilis. I can cook a whole pig and a gator, both.”
“I don’t think I need a whole gator.” He laughed. Imagine that? “But thanks for thinking of me.”
“Ain’t nobody needs one, lest they’re starving, cher. It’s fishy chickeny tasting.”
“So stick with fish or chicken. Fish sounds great. Let’s do surf and turf Friday. You do something with fish, and I’ll grill us a couple of fat steaks. What do you think?” With roasted potatoes or something. Oh, that sounded so good. Or maybe he was just hungry.
“Surely can. Y’all got a fish market or what?” Colt’s belly began to rumble, and he laughed, the sound joyous. “We’re making me hungry, cher.”
“We’re making me hungry too, music man. You want to head out and find some food? Or we could get room service or order a pizza… I’m easy.” So easy. “Especially when you’re around, it seems.” He slid a hand over Colt’s chest, tracing the contours.
“What you like? I could be naked with you for hours and just munch and talk and learn all the things.”
“Room service, then.” He smiled at Colt. “I like the sound of being lazy with you. So something easy to eat in bed, hm? Where’s your menu?”
“Hrm. Where’d I put that book deal….” Colt rolled up and started digging through drawers, giving him a view of that tight ass. He could just… mm. Damn. He really could.
“No rush.”
Colt looked back and up at him, offering him a huge grin over one shoulder.
“I’m not at all ashamed of myself for looking, baby.” Not one little bit.
That earned him a wiggle and a shimmy, then a happy cry sounded. “La! I found it.”
He patted the bed. “Let me see. We need some finger foods and stuff, right?”
“Mm-hmm. I like french fries.” Colt clicked his teeth together. “I like to crunch.”
“French fries, then. Watch those teeth.” He grinned and took the book from Colt. “And the cheese platter, yeah? Maybe a bottle of wine?”
“Mmm. Works for me. Something red and rich.”
“Yes, perfect.” He reached over and picked up the phone to call in the order, adding malt vinegar for the fries and something sweet for dessert.
Colt’s hands found his back, the fingers digging in, playing his muscles like a maestro.
“Oh. Oh wow. That feels great. You have the best hands.” He let his head hang forward, melting into Colt’s touch.
“Merci.” Colt hummed softly, singing to him again, searching out little knots of tension.
“De rien.” High school French for the win. “But I’m the one who should be—oh, right there—thanking you right now.” He groaned as Colt found one of his hot spots. “I have a… ooh. Yep. Right there.”
“Mm-hmm. I feel.” Colt dug in, rubbing the knot out until he wanted to scream or purr or melt or something.
“Ask me anything right now and I’d say yes. I would. You’re magic.” He was actually kneading the sheets with one hand.
“Mmm. Good to know. I’ll keep that in my pocket.” Colt moved down to work on his ass, his legs.
He stretched out, very ready to enjoy all the attention. “The piece I want music for is pretty simple. And it’s not all that long really. But I love telling stories with my body, and the music will fill in the gaps, add emotion, tension. We would work it out together, make the pieces fit, you know? And then you’d record it for me for the show.”
“I can do that. You show me what you want, I will play it.” The confidence in Colt’s voice made him smile.
“I have no doubt. I’ll show you what I do. I bet you’ll figure out what it needs. And I was thinking guitar, but now that I know you play such a huge range, you may have other ideas there too. We can collaborate a little.”
There was a knock at the door. “Oh. I can’t get up right now.” He could, but he was so relaxed. “Will you?”
“Surely do.” Colt stood up, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist before answering the door. “Ooo, that all smells good. How’re you?”
The soft back-and-forth, so Southern, so very warm and welcoming, made Kyle smile and made the young server blush. He’d noticed that when Colt asked someone how they were, he actually listened to the answer. He could learn to love a guy like that, he really could. Maybe even a musician. Maybe. Though that might be a bad idea.
When the door closed again, he tossed off the sheet he’d pulled over his ass for modesty and made himself sit up. “So do you try to make people blush, or does that just happen to everyone you talk to?” He grinned.
“Hmm?” Colt settled the little rolling cart close by and started pulling off lids.
He gave Colt a fond smile. Of course Colt would have no idea what he was talking about. He reached for the wine and the bottle opener. “Never mind, baby. What are you feeding me first?”
“It all looks good. You like a certain kind of cheese?”
“If it’s cheese, I like it.” He leaned toward Colt. “Surprise me. Again.” He winked.
Colt explored his options, then carefully made up a bite with cracker and cheese and a dollop of some sort of jelly.
“That’s pretty.” He opened his mouth to accept the bite and made a little show of holding on to Colt’s fingers with his teeth for a second. He poured them each a glass of wine and handed one to Colt. “Yummy.”
“Thank you.” Colt lifted his glass. “Bon temps, cher.”
“Cheers to you, baby.” The wine was perfect, rich and dark. He reached for a french fry and held it out. “You have family back home?”
“I got a mamma. My daddy passed when I was ten. He played blues on the Quarter. Mamma, we don’t talk much. She got her a fancy husband after I left home at fifteen.”
“My mom’s fancy husband is also my father.” He snorted and took a fry for himself. “Fifteen? Why did you leave so young?”
Colt shrugged, lips twisting. “Lots of things. I mean, don’t no one want a queer boy. Don’t no one want a dumb queer boy. Don’t no one want a dumb queer boy that proves Mamma was fucking a blues man in N’awlins.”
“Hm. I’m sorry, baby.” He stroked a hand over Colt’s back. “But you look like you’re doing well for yourself despite her. Nobody wants a queer boy in my family either. My mother wants me to marry one of her friend’s debutante daughters.” He laughed. “My father says I’m ‘really pushing it’ dancing.”
“Pushing it. That sounds right.” Colt took a fry and nibbled on it. “I looked you up on my phone. I could watch you dance for my whole life and then go for seconds.”
“You… really?” He felt himself light up, a warmth that came up from his belly and put a blush on his cheeks. He smiled, pleased and touched. “You looked me up?”
“Well, sure. You’re something. I like the one with the bed best. It made me sad, but there was a happy ending, I think.”
“Bittersweet.” He nodded. “A lot of ballet is like that. To die for romance, star-crossed lovers, obstacles keeping lovers apart, broken hearts, lots of drama.” He loved the drama of the whole thing; you had to.
“Blues too. It’s story, and not normally a happy one.”
“Oh, we’re going to work so well together. Tell me how you learned to play. Did your dad teach you first?”
“He did. Mamma is a piano teacher, so I learned to read music from her, to score. I learned soul from my daddy. I learned the blues on the streets, I think.” Colt made him another perfect bite. “I had lots of help, and I wasn’t alone long. There’s a tribe of folks that have themselves and no one else.”
“A tribe. I like that.” He’d never had anything like that. Or, well…. Maybe he had? “I had some school friends I danced with and the companies that cast me—same idea, I guess. Artists, like minds sticking together.”
“That’s it. We get it. Needing to do what we do.” Colt leaned against him and fed him a french fry. “It’s a little bit different—the studio and the street. The street is all in the dark, but the studio? Oi, that’s anytime.”
He munched down the french fry and followed it with a big sip of his wine. “You have an agent now, though, right? How long did you play on the street?”
“I started playing the bars when I was seventeen, got a studio gig about three months later. Christmas music in July. Crazy.”
He laughed. “Christmas music. You’ve come a long way, then.” He kissed Colt, just a quick one.
“Oh cher, I felt about eighty foot tall, getting that paycheck.” Colt leaned into him, sipping his wine. “Ain’t nothing like that first check.”
He put an arm around Colt’s shoulders. “No shit. Nothing beats that first real paycheck for doing what you love to do. Mine was tiny, but I got to wave it in front of my father and tell him he was wrong.”
“When did you start dancing?”
“It’s kind of ironic, actually. I started when I was about four, and I went to the same studio as my three older sisters. I was so jealous of them, and my mom stuck me in class just to shut me up. They all quit, and I’m the one that stuck with it.”
“That’s cool. Three sisters, huh? Y’all close?”
“We keep in touch. Katie comes to my performances every so often; she’s still local. I’ve got an older brother too. He’s a super-lawyer. One of those white-collar people. I’m not sure I get what he does.”
“Ah. None of those in my woodpile.”
“You could take a match to most of mine—that would be okay.” He winked and sipped his wine. “I just stay in the city, and they stay over on the Gold Coast, and it’s all good.”
“It’s about making a place—places, I guess—that you’re cool.”
He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “I’m cool right here. I know that.”
“Yeah.” Colt nibbled his bottom lip, playing with him.
“There’s more cheese if you’re hungry,” he teased, reaching out with his tongue and licking Colt’s upper lip.
“More french fries too. I like the wine in your mouth.”
“I was just going to say I like the salt on your lips.” God, how silly. Fun, and true, but silly. He pushed his fingers into Colt’s hair and kissed him, his curious tongue slipping past Colt’s lips.
The touch of Colt’s hand on his hip made him hum, made his hips roll.
“I listened to Robert Johnson this morning after you left. ‘Hellhound.’” He pushed Colt back into the pillows. “I like it. I was dancing, trying to work out the reasons it speaks to you.”
“You know the myth, eh? That he sold his soul for the music?”
“No. Really? Tell me the story?”
“Robert Johnson went to the crossroads with his guitar, and he met the Devil there, a big old bastard, black as pitch and three times as sticky. The Devil tuned up for him, played a couple three songs, and when the last note disappeared from the earth, Robert sold his soul for the blues.”
Oh, he could choreograph that story. “So Johnson’s playing the blues for the Devil now?”
“Don’t no one know, but if he comes to me in the dark, I’ll hide my head and sing.”
“Does that make him go away or just make you feel better?” To Kyle, these were children’s stories, things you told each other at sleepovers to scare your friends. The Devil wasn’t anything more than a spook to him. But Colt sounded so serious. It was strange and fascinating.
Colt gave him a serious look. “I ’spose that depends on what you’re askin’. The Devil comes in all sorts of clothes and lies, and he’s made of music. The question is, is your soul safe or your body? Your body ain’t hardly ever safe, because Lucifer can take hold of that, but your soul? That you got to give.”
He watched Colt for a bit, thinking about the things he’d sell his soul for, wondering who he’d give it to. “Would you sell yours for what Johnson had?”
“I got the blues. I pray that if they told me they’d take my hands unless I give my soul, I’d say no and trust that I would learn to play with my feet.” Colt sounded so… sure. Like this was something he thought about, worried on.
He stroked Colt’s cheek, soothing him.
“I can’t say I pray, but I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t dance. I promise you I know that feeling.” The idea terrified him, in fact. “Gives me nightmares if I think too hard about it.”
“Yeah. It eats the whole world, the need to do this thing we do.” Colt leaned into him, resting hard. “And that ain’t bad.”
He pulled Colt close, let him lean. He took some comfort in Colt’s heavy presence. “No, baby. It’s not bad at all.”