The Name of the Game Page 4

  Jeans next, worn old and soft and thin as tissue paper, cut to cling to his legs and ass. Next day, he'd probably be in chinos to hide every bit of what he'd been showing off.

  Seth tested the water. All in a day's work. The jets seemed hot enough, so he stepped in, closing the glass door and surrendering himself up to the blissful blast of water.

  "Oh, yeah," he moaned. "Right there. Power shower, you are my friend."

  Eyes closed, Seth reached for a bar of soap. He frowned when his fingers didn't encounter a familiar green brick, but instead found empty space. "Where the -- aw, man." He'd used the last of his good old store-brand soap the day before, after another stinky night in the beach's underbelly.

  Damn. He could either get out, dripping all over the place, or he could borrow Clay's soap.

  Seth peeked suspiciously at the cake resting in Clay's niche on the shower wall. He wasn't sure where Clay bought the stuff, but he felt pretty sure in guessing it didn't come with a logo stamped in the center and a paper wrapper. It looked almost… gummy. Felt that way, too, when he prodded the lump with one finger.

  He could wash himself off with shampoo, but the feeling just wasn't the same. Nothing beat a good bar of soap, and this was nothing like a good bar of soap. This was some New Age contraption devised to confound men like himself.

  But then again, he didn't think Clay would mind, so…

  Seth snatched the bar up and began to apply it to himself. Good, even strokes up and down the ridges of his stomach, over the muscles in his chest, and across the shoulders. He peered anxiously at the trail of suds the bar left in its wake. Weirdly gritty, with a scent that made him think of breakfast for some reason.

  A tentative prod at the skin beneath a cloud of foam made him blink. Damn, that was smooth. Seth had always been pretty hairless, but this stuff made him soft as a baby's butt.

  Wonder if that's why Clay always kind of shines…

  Back up again, brain.

  Seth shook his head and carried on washing, considerately avoiding running the bar over any objectionable areas. More soap on a washcloth took care of the situation. Feeling clean at last, he put the bar down and breathed in deeply. Yeah, something food-like about the smell of the soap, not that he minded. This was how Clay smelled, and Anthony was always all over him, cooing about how he was good enough to eat.

  Anthony, man… Seth relaxed against the shower wall, unconsciously running his hands over his chest. He wasn't his type, of course, being male, but the guy was a peach and no doubt about it. A cascade of curls, big wicked eyes, a curving mouth, and, when he got his drag on, breasts a man could happily smother in.

  Knowing, however, that Anthony would bean him with a frying pan if he lingered too long over those kind of thoughts and he ever found out caused Seth to move on pretty quickly.

  Mentally going over one pretty face led him to another, and Sophie slipped into Anthony's place with way too much ease.

  Seth let himself sigh as he rubbed his soap-slicked belly. The woman would have been perfect. Hell, he'd thought she was a dream come true when they first met. The kind of uptown girl old Billy sang about, complete with blonde hair and blue eyes and a sweet, sweet smile.

  Unfortunately, he'd found out that the outer Sophie had absolutely nothing on the inner Sophie, who should have gone around dressed in sharp icicles and prickly porcupine quills. Nothing had ever been good enough for her; he'd tried, God knew he'd tried, but he never had managed to satisfy the woman.

  Do this, don't do that. Wear this, don't you dare wear that. Take me here, take me there. Find another job, get yourself on the fast track to head up the force.

  He could have handled anything if she'd left Clay out of the equation. Sophie had drawn herself up so tight and prim when she'd found out Seth roomed with a gay man, he'd half thought she was going to explode. Seth would let a pretty lady lead him around by the dick and pussy-whip him into submission, but he didn't stand for anyone tangling with his friends.

  That'd been where the whole idea to get Clay involved had originated. Sophie plus her hatred of homosexuals plus her loathing for Clay would equal an immediate breakup and, carrying the one, leave Seth himself wide open to start playing that luscious field again.

  Sex. God, sex would be wonderful. Seth didn't cheat, and he'd been celibate for weeks now with Sophie on a "good girl" kick. Apparently, she thought not giving anything up would make him crawl after her on his hands and knees, willing to give her whatever she wanted just for a little taste of something.

  Seth snorted. He'd been doing plenty of crawling, thanks, but not for the sex. He didn't mind a woman who wanted to do her own thing for a while -- hell, it added to the mystery. Never knowing when you might get lucky kept a man on edge. More, it gave him time to get a better feel for the woman in question. He could learn her moves, her motivations, her morals.

  And in Sophie's case, they had all totaled up to result in a money-grubbing, tight-fisted, bigoted bitch. Seth hadn't even wanted to have sex for a while now.

  But when she was gone… Seth chuckled and ran his hands over his body with a little more purpose. That soap of Clay's seemed to cling to his skin, leaving it soft and supple. Even the thin trail of hair leading down to his cock was smooth and slick, like a strip of sealskin. And at the end of the road -- oh, yes.

  Seth grasped his cock with a practiced movement, sliding one hand down the length and up the shaft. He handled himself loose and easy, getting a feel for the situation. As hoped for, he was ready to ride. Everything in an upright, locked position, slick from soap and hot from the shower water.

  Thoughtful, he slid his thumb around the fat purple head a few times, wondering what he should choose for the object of his fantasies. Every guy had a selection of filmstrips in his head, just waiting to unreel at the slightest cause to drop a reel. He wound through old girlfriends, quickly discarding them because, after all, he hadn't said the final goodbye to Sophie yet.

  Sophie, then? Seth considered the notion, then put it aside. He didn't need to get all mushy over the woman, not knowing what she was made of and how she treated the people he cared about.

  He tipped his head back against the shower wall, letting his mind drift. The water would last for ages -- they'd invested in a huge tank, since both Seth and Clay were merfolk under the skin. Seth shut his eyes again and stroked his cock idly, letting his thoughts disassociate and run freely around until he was caught by a pair of brown eyes shining at him, warm with humor and sparkling with lust. No face to go with them, but Seth could work with a little flotsam and jetsam.

  Focusing on the vision of those eyes, Seth ran a thumb up the underside of his cock, tracing each marbled vein with agonizing slowness. Just a little sting, exactly the way he liked his hand jobs. A little pain made the pleasure all the sweeter.

  Sophie never had understood as much. Then again, if she'd had her way he would have been strung up by thumbscrews, dangling from his toes, and have a leash around his cock, so best to leave her out of the picture and focus on Brown Eyes, huh?

  Seth couldn't remember where he'd seen them before. One of Anthony's soft-core "art films" that he and Clay could sometimes be caught watching? They were wide and innocent, with a lush depth fit to get lost in, surrounded by thick dark lashes.

  It felt like a betrayal of Sophie, but Seth went with it. He couldn't have stopped himself by then. All the same, he tried focusing on the pure pleasure of the way his hand moved up and down his hard shaft, the way the skin stretched and rebounded over the steely core, and the little thrills of ecstasy that sent thin strings of pre-come bubbling out his slit.

  Slowly, hazily, he brought another hand down to cup and roll his balls. Poor things couldn't decide what to do -- drop down and get cool in the heat, or rise up tight against his body in preparation for the payload.

  Brown Eyes popped into his mind again, along with a wide, warm smile, and Seth groaned. He kept the face at a mental arm's reach, only letting himself focus on the vague mem
ory every now and again as he took his own sweet time. Sophie had never done this willingly, and the few times he'd had her hand around him she'd had a moue of distaste on her otherwise kissable lips. Like he was dirty or something.

  Well, he was. A raunchy man when it came to sex, and a good guy the rest of the time. Sophie didn't seem to grasp the distinction. She was like a book of riddles that he couldn't exactly manage to unravel, even with his head for figures. And speaking of figures… but nope, nah, Sophie was in the past, right where she belonged.

  Seth caressed himself again, nearing the limits of his patience. Brown Eyes blinked at him, sweet and patient. God, he wished he knew who those orbs belonged to. At that moment, he'd have chased down their owner and begged for a chance to share a drink with them.

  Pumping his own cock, setting up a steady rhythm, Seth sought for the answer to the riddle of where he'd seen those eyes before. He didn't think a movie, not anymore. This was someone he'd met. Someone he knew pretty well…

  As if it had been summoned, Seth felt the orgasm he'd been waiting for rise up and tie knots in his belly. He flashed on the brown eyes again, and this time they had a face to go with them. A face that was handsome, not pretty, with a mop of tangled black hair and a square jaw.

  "Oh, shit! Clay!" Seth yelped, and then he was coming harder than he had in years. Jet after jet of semen shot over his hands, spilling down over his member and his legs, thick and sticky and -- oh, my God, I was fantasizing about a man!

  Seth leaned against the shower wall and heaved a huge sigh. God. Clay would never forgive him. He just prayed no one had heard --

  The shower door flew open. Seth swore as a huge cloud of steam billowed out. "Jesus, that's cold! Don't just barge in a on a guy like that, you -- oh."

  Sophie stood in front of him, impeccably dressed in a white linen suit, hands on her hips and, on her face, a look any sane man would have run screaming from.

  "Hi," Seth attempted, leaning forward to try and snatch a towel. "Look, uh, Sophie, I'm not sure what you just heard, but it -- I --"

  Hey, dummy! Seth's brain chimed in. Use this to your advantage!

  Sophie was drawing herself up for an explosion, putting her hands on her hips and planting her tiny feet hard on the bathroom floor. Seth could tell she was winding up for a real showdown; he'd witnessed more than his share over the months they'd been going out. "Sophie, I'm sorry," he said gently. "Let me get a towel, and we'll talk, okay."

  "Talk?" she sputtered. "I don't need to talk, Seth."

  Not that she'll let that stop her, Seth thought wryly.

  "This shower door?" Sophie rapped on it with her knuckles. "It's not as opaque as you might think. I saw you, what you were doing in there. And I heard what you said." Her lip trembled, which would affect Seth more if he didn't know she practiced the maneuver and hadn't seen it used on himself more than once. "Clay, you said. You called for him when you -- you --" Her lip wibbled. "Seth, how could you?"

  Seth gave up on waiting for her to clear out of the way, and shut the water off. He reached past one immaculate shoulder for a towel -- Clay's, he noticed -- and wrapped it around his waist. "I'll explain everything," he soothed.

  For all her faults, Sophie was a lady, and he didn't treat women with disrespect. Intentionally. Off the job. Oh, God. Seth shook his head as he stepped out.

  She did let him pass; he gave her credit for that much. Deciding to forego toweling off his hair, Seth leaned against the bathroom counter, folded his arms over his chest, and gave her what he hoped was an honest look. Not a hostile one; he'd gotten past all that. He was tired of her attitude, her demanding nature, and her games. He felt weary and knew he probably looked the part.

  "Sophie…" he started.

  Her nostrils flared. "Clay. You said his name. That abomination you live with. It was him you were thinking about, weren't you? What, were you imagining him in there with you? On his knees, doing God knows what?"

  God might know, but you sure don't -- or you don't share. Seth mentally slapped himself. Breaking up with Sophie wasn't about the sex, honestly it wasn't. She didn't have a heart to give, so they had never really been in love. All that remained between them were some messy details to sort out.

  He'd go with the truth. Why not? Might be embarrassing later, but he wouldn't lie to the woman. "Yes," he said. "I was thinking about Clay." And heaven help me if Clay ever finds out. "I'd been doing what you said. Imagining him being in there with me." He felt his cheeks color red with embarrassment. "Sophie, beautiful, I'm sorry."

  She quivered with outrage. "You should be sorry." One hand came up to cover her breastbone. "This is going to change things between us, Seth."

  Seth braced himself. "How so?"

  "Well -- well -- for one thing, you're moving out of here." Sophie took up an aggressive stance, one calculated to make the strongest man alive go running for his momma. Even Seth quailed a little bit, and he'd faced down drug dealers in his time. Five foot nothing with some blonde hair on the warpath and he could feel his testicles trying to climb up inside where it'd be safer.

  She nodded decisively. "We're going to look for a new place today. I'm not having you around Clay anymore. He's a bad influence."

  Ah. Now, time for the lies. Seth winced internally before saying: "Sophie… you're not making me move. I like it here." Truth so far, but then… "Sophie, do you want to sit down for this?"

  Her chin came up. "I'm standing right here until you tell me what's going on. Either you're with me or you're against me, Seth. Now, are you going to get dressed and come with me or not?"

  Seth sighed. "Not," he said softly, watching her face. It took a few seconds for the fact that she'd been denied to filter through. Sophie's expression became colored deep red with shock plus growing outrage. "I'm staying right here, because this is the place I want to live. This is where I can be myself."

  "And that is?" she demanded.

  Seth crossed his fingers where Sophie couldn't see them, tucked into the curve of his arm. "Gay, Sophie. I'm gay."

  She blinked. "You're not."

  "Honey, I think I'd know."

  "Don’t you 'honey' me! Of all the -- I have had some brush-off lines in my time, but this one beats them all, Seth."

  "It's not a line."

  "The hell it's not! You -- in the shower -- oh." Sophie's eyes dropped to the knot in Seth's towel. He saw her swallow. "Oh," she repeated, with a world of meaning in her voice. "Oh."

  As she went pale, Seth flinched in alarm. He'd wanted her to leave, not have a coronary in his bathroom! Out of habit, he reached for the woman, trying to ease her back into a more comfortable position. "Baby, don't. Breathe, okay? Just breathe."

  Sophie might have said something next, but Seth missed it in the explosion that was her tiny, powerful fist slamming into his chin. He swore, skidding with wet feet on the bare floor, and went ass over teakettle onto the tiles. White noise filled his head for a moment, and static burst into his ears.

  When things cleared up, he realized he was staring dazedly at Sophie while she ranted on with the mother of all rants. "-- if I'd known for just one second that Clay would corrupt you like this, I'd have had you out of this hellhole months ago. Go ahead, admit it! That filthy fag and his nasty little friend have corrupted your mind!"

  Seth shook his head, dazed. "No," he tried to say. "It isn't like that at all. Clay is…"

  "What?" she demanded. "A friend? Something more? Your lover?" Her face had gone purple with rage. She kicked at Seth's unprotected genitals with one slim pump that came complete with a wicked heel.

  Seth yelped and got out of the way just in time. His towel came away as he stood up. "Clay means more to me than you'll ever know," he said honestly. "He's special. You won't ever get it, Sophie, because you can't broaden your horizons beyond Channel WASP."

  "He is your lover, isn't he?" Sophie's hands had balled into fists.

  "You want to know what he is to me? Fine!"

  Stomping out of the ba
throom completely naked, Seth headed for the kitchen. He left wet footprints behind him he knew he'd have to mop up, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less.

  He could hear Sophie hard on his heels, her shoes clicking a staccato beat as she tried to keep up. She was haranguing him about something, but he didn't bother to listen to what. He was headed for the man who'd always treated him like a brother -- not a cop, not a rung on the ladder, not a sugar daddy -- just a guy.

  Clay and Anthony were still sitting at the desk-cum-table, their shoulders a little hunched and their cheeks pink. Seth spared a moment of regret for their embarrassment, and felt a new surge of anger against Sophie, who still hadn't stopped talking about abominations and desecrations and all other sorts of charnel-house crap.

  "Clay!" Seth barked, pulling up short to the desk. "Stand up." When Anthony gave a slight squeak and Clay stared at him with confused eyes, Seth took matters into his own hands -- literally. Grabbing Clay by the lapels of his shirt, Seth hauled the man up onto his feet, tangled both hands in his dark hair, and pressed a kiss to eyelids he'd been daydreaming about, albeit all unknowingly, in the shower, and then on his soft lips.