Fall Apart Read online

  Mark glanced back and forth between the two men. “Are you filming the ending scenes first again?”

  Max nodded. “The rest of the movie he’ll have a shaved head and lots of fake tattoos.”

  “I ain’t going to lie,” Mark said, “that’s going to be weird.” His eyes roved over Zane’s face and his beautiful hair. “I’m glad your hair grows fast.”

  Zane winked at him and then patted his stomach. “Diet starts today, too.”

  Mark’s eyes widened. Zane was in the best shape Mark had ever seen him—and he’d never once looked even slightly lumpy since they’d met. “I figured you’d lean out some, but how much are we talking about here?”

  Zane and Max silently deliberated with one another. “His character is very lean,” Max admitted and Zane nodded. “He won’t have to lose more than five pounds from where he is now, I bet, but I haven’t seen him with his shirt off.”

  Mark appreciated that. It was nice to lie to himself and pretend that not everyone in the world had the opportunity to look at his husband’s body whenever they wanted. There were so many pictures of him plastered all over the internet. Mark was in a lot of them himself, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept that his husband’s body was a staple of fantasies the world over.

  “I ate that bag of tortilla chips by myself yesterday,” Zane added. “I’m rocking a good bloat right now.”

  Mark snorted and gave his husband’s tummy a pat. It was as well muscled as usual. “Be healthy,” he intoned. “No crash diets.”

  Zane held up a hand. “On my honor. I’ve already updated Chad and we’re going to change things in the gym. Max is on board.”

  “I’ll diet with you,” Mark offered.

  “You don’t need to lose weight.”

  Max interrupted. “Neither of you need to lose weight. We just want Zane to have an edgy, intense look. Get the muscles really cut.”

  The two of them continued discussing what Max was looking for and what ideas Zane had for his character, and Mark let the conversation flow around him. He felt his eyes beginning to droop, but he was so comfortable and Zane’s hand was still gently massaging. He popped in and out of wakefulness, and during one of the semi-conscious moments, he heard mention of their Wednesday night dinner party.

  “I have to be back here by two-thirty. We’re having some people over for dinner.” He looked at Mark like he was counting people off in his head. “There’ll be Alarik, his friend, Jenny… A few others might show up.”

  “Alarik Elo?” Max sat up straighter and the way his usually open face became guarded instantly caught Mark’s attention.

  Zane nodded. “Yeah. I thought you knew him.”

  Max touched his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve met him a few times. He did a spread for the movie I did with Bill Austen—some article about the partnership between director and actor.”

  “I remember it. The shots were great, but Alarik’s the best if you ask me.”

  Max’s eyes hooded further. “He is.”

  “You should come on Wednesday,” Mark invited, trying to gauge the man’s reaction. He didn’t think Max was gay—Zane had never mentioned it either way—but there was definitely something off about his reaction. Now, Mark was all curiosity. “It’s just going to be a casual thing. Zane’s grilling. There’ll be drinks.”

  Max glanced at Zane who promptly offered the invite again. “I’m sure Alarik will be glad to see you.”

  Only a few seconds passed before Max agreed to make an appearance, but Mark wasn’t able to read anything else from his expression. Once the man closed off the emotion, it was gone for good. Something strange had happened somewhere along the way between Alarik and him.

  The minute that Max’s R8 purred from the driveway, Mark turned toward his husband with question marks for eyeballs.

  “What was that?” he laughed. “Did you see?”

  Zane grinned and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Look at you. So curious about Max’s personal affairs. Should I be jealous?”

  Mark pinched Zane’s side, but otherwise ignored the comment. “You saw his face right? All you had to say was Alarik’s name and he turned into a statue.”

  “I don’t know anything about it…” Zane trailed off, popping the fridge to grab a bottled water.

  “Is Max gay?”

  “Who knows?”

  Mark moaned impatiently and skipped around until he was directly in Zane’s path. “In all the years you’ve known him, has he ever had a girlfriend?”

  Zane smiled and took a swig of water. “A girlfriend?”

  “Zaaaaane…”

  “He’s very private, all business,” Zane supplied. “I never paid attention.”

  “He’s that good looking and you never wondered?”

  “Can’t say that I did.”

  “Liar,” Mark laughed and pointed at his husband accusingly. “You’re such a liar.”

  Zane pulled Mark by both hands until they were holding one another and looking directly into each other’s eyes. “I swear I never wondered or asked. He doesn’t broadcast his personal business either way. Gay or straight.”

  “But what do you think? I mean, you saw his face!”

  “I did,” Zane agreed.

  “And?”

  “Gay? Maybe. Alarik’s kind of a force of nature and if Max is gay, I think he’d go for that personality. But, we could be reading into all of this. Maybe Alarik owes him money.”

  Mark snorted. “An expression like Max was wearing isn’t about money. No, no, no.”

  “Money for…sex?” Zane winked.

  “Naaaahhhh.”

  ***

  Wednesday afternoon came slowly. Alarik hadn’t been able to see Damon at all on Tuesday because he was taking extra shifts to accommodate the time off on Wednesday and Saturday. They’d parted on interesting terms after the spectacle in the restaurant. His reaction to Todd had been foolish and Alarik was unimpressed with himself. The irrational indignation that roared through his body at the sight of Todd pressing his lips to Damon’s had robbed him of his usual sense. He’d turned into a vengeful teenager.

  For his own part, Damon had been very quiet about it all, revealing nothing. Todd left without saying much and Franco ate, smiling broadly at them like he’d caught them jerking off in the bushes together. Damon didn’t seem uncomfortable, but his reserve had returned. His walls went up so Alarik felt unsteady, which only pissed him off more because all of the good they’d accomplished on that cliff top was overshadowed by a testosterone surge.

  Todd wasn’t even gay! He was a pisser. He was testing Alarik and he’d won the first round. Thinking of it made Alarik’s muscles clench. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  He’d spoken with Damon only once on Tuesday, and that was after the other man had closed the store and gone to the gym with Todd. God only knew what the two of them had to say about this situation. Alarik was preparing himself for rejection in one form or another. A man listened to friends that were as close as Todd, Luke and Franco were to Damon. If they thought Alarik should piss off and die, his trusting companion would probably end up agreeing.

  Alarik was picking Damon up for the drive to L.A. and he still hadn’t mentioned that it was Zane Whitlow and his spotlight-shy husband awaiting them. He didn’t want to make things more awkward. If Damon had decided not to go along for the ride, Alarik really didn’t want to make him feel obligated, and he didn’t want to feel like the invitation was only being accepted because an honest-to-goodness movie star was involved.

  Even though he correctly entered the address into his phone and into the car’s navigation system, he got lost twice on the way to the house—fucking Hall Street and Hall Lane! Why such similar names so close together?

  When he pulled up in front of the bungalow, he wasn’t really surprised by what he saw.

  The house was small, old, and in need of a new coat of paint, but the lawn was pristine with not a weed to be seen. Damon’s truck was parked in the drive and t
here was a beautiful birdhouse hanging from a tree in the middle of the yard. A small bricked area with two chairs and a table looked incredibly inviting.

  It was humble. Sweet. It seemed welcoming and yet, masculine. It reminded him of Damon.

  As though the thought made him appear, his auburn-haired man stepped outside. As Alarik had advised, he’d brought along an overnight bag. The strap crossing his chest subtly highlighted the beautiful curvature of muscles and Alarik once again pictured him on the day of their hike. Bare, muscled arms wrapped around him.

  Fuck all… Something had to be done about this.

  Alarik kept the engine running, but stepped out of the driver’s side to watch as Damon approached. He hadn’t expected to be invited inside, but oh how he wished they had the privacy just then. He also wished he could get away with crawling over the car like a sex kitten and purring his way into Damon’s pants.

  Damon gave half a wave and sank into the passenger seat at the same time that Alarik got behind the wheel. About to say hello and ease into the unknown waters created by his Who’s Got A Bigger Dick contest with Todd, Alarik forgot everything when Damon leaned in and kissed him. Their mouths slid brilliantly against one another and Alarik parted his lips eagerly. Seconds later he was pushing off the steering wheel with an arm, slamming the fucking gear shift into his hip, and grunting as he snogged the hell out of his date.

  Damon’s mouth pushed hard against his and their tongues began a heady dance that made his cock flex until it got pinched against the center console. Alarik used the leverage from his grip on Damon’s shoulders to shift up and over so that one of his knees landed squarely between the other man’s legs and the pain transformed to angsty, wild pleasure. He lost track of where they were and what they were supposed to be doing when Damon reached up beneath his coat to run his hands along Alarik’s sides.

  “Jesus…” Alarik gasped against Damon’s lips, dropping his head lower to taste the skin beneath his ear and across his throat.

  Damon moaned in pleasure and the next instant, the sound of creaking plastic filled the car as the passenger seat collapsed into its fully-reclined position. Alarik, already in a physical predicament, didn’t fare well and ended up with a mouthful of rental car upholstery and a sharp pain near his right temple.

  “Shit,” Damon laughed, steadying him by the shoulder with one hand and massaging his own jaw with the other. “Are you okay? God!”

  “Did you do this to me?” Alarik winced and tried to laugh as he gingerly touched his forehead. “Was that your way of telling me to slow down or speed up?”

  Damon rummaged alongside the seat, looking for the handle, and when he found it, they were launched back to the upright position, almost bumping noses this time. “I see you got a top of the line rental, here. It comes complete with car sex sensor for instant recline capability.”

  “Nothing but the best for you, my darling,” Alarik winked, then touched his forehead again. “Your jaw packs a punch!”

  “So does your skull…”

  They watched each other with horny amusement until Alarik sighed and took a glance out the windows. At least it seemed as though no one had been witness to their amorous curbside makeout.

  “As lovely as this compact car is, it’s not how I envisioned taking you to bed,” he murmured, chagrined. “Not that it isn’t delightful to kiss you with my knee lodged in a cup holder.”

  Damon was grinning again, but the color in his cheeks wasn’t from merriment alone. “So you admit you’ve thought of taking me to bed?”

  Alarik gave him a sideways glance, enticed by the blatant angling for details. How bold…

  “Well, I am a man. Sometimes I think about sex before I can even say hello or good morning to you,” he waited a beat to see if Damon would be disappointed with such a “correct” answer, but the other man gave nothing away. Alarik leaned in close, careful of being dumped into the back seat again, and made certain Damon was looking into his eyes. “I’ve fantasized about you in ways that make my skin boil with heat from wanting you. The thought of being with you has brought such great pleasure that I’m hard-pressed to believe I could actually survive making love to you. I’ve thought of it so often and in such detail, that I know exactly how I’ll touch you and where—I intend to see your face as you come and take every single sound, expression, and movement of your body for my own.”

  Damon stared at him, his breaths shallow and uneven.

  “Do you understand me, Damon? Do you need more details?” he whispered against his ear. “Or would you like me to show you tonight?”

  Alarik pulled back, feeling every inch the rock star as Damon shuddered beneath him.

  “You see what you’re doing to me. You know the answer,” Damon practically panted, running a restless hand over his stomach to the brink of his crotch before remembering himself and curling his hand into a fist. The act was incredibly erotic and Alarik wanted to roar like a sex-infused god.

  “Tonight, then,” he said simply.

  “Tonight.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Zane was partially hidden behind the grill, but from where he was standing he had a perfect view of Mark as he led Jenny to a seat on the patio near Max. He had to stifle a laugh because he knew exactly what his husband was up to. Jenny was well known for her killer rack and even though she always looked classy, men and women never failed to notice what she had going on in the front of her blouse. This was probably one of many tests Mark was going to conduct during the evening in order to decipher Max’s sexual orientation.

  The whole production was adorable. He didn’t even know what Mark was going to do once he reached a conclusion, because gay or straight, it didn’t necessarily mean anything had happened between their friends.

  Personally, Zane figured Max was straight. There’d been so many opportunities to mention otherwise if he’d wanted to, and there hadn’t been a single clue about it at all. No wandering eyes, no innuendo. Max was fine sharing about other aspects of his life—growing up in Japan, college in the U.S., his parents and younger brother—but he didn’t mention romance. He didn’t allude to his past or current relationships. No girlfriends, no secret crushes revealed. Max didn’t even comment on other’s love lives unless they interfered with work he was trying to accomplish, and then, all he’d say was, “Breakup or makeup, but do not bring your love life into work.”

  It looked like the Jenny Boob Test was inconclusive. Mark shot a frown of discouragement at Zane who saluted back with a set of meat tongs and managed not to crack a smile.

  Closing the lid on the grill, he ambled over to drop a kiss on Jenny’s cheek and offer Max another drink. They were discussing the relative merits of ales and lagers when his pocket buzzed.

  Shortly after he and Mark had been married the year before, he’d installed a new gate and security system that he could control through his cell phone. Right now, it was set up to call his phone whenever anyone buzzed in. Tossing the phone to Mark, he called out, “Can you answer this for me? I need to get Max a real beer.”

  Mark caught the phone and the moment the words, “Yes, hello—hey, Alarik!” exited his mouth, Max went very still. Zane wasn’t usually so tuned in that he would notice, but Mark had him caught up in the intrigue.

  “You alright, Max?” Zane held out a beer to him…and kept holding it…and holding it…

  Max’s golden brown eyes blinked several times and he shook off whatever had come over him in one jerky movement. “Of course. Yes.” He accepted the drink with a nod and looked toward the back doors where Alarik and his date would no doubt soon appear, mumbling something in Japanese. It didn’t sound positive, but Zane had no way of knowing.

  Mark hadn’t noticed what happened and Zane practically chased him into the house so he could pass along the intel.

  “You missed it!” Zane whispered at him. “He totally froze again when you said Alarik’s name.”

  Mark gave him superior look. “Ohhh, I thought you didn’t
care one way or another. I remember you saying something about how it didn’t matter…?”

  Zane threw his arms around Mark, trapping him in a hold, and marched him into the kitchen. In one brisk move, he lifted his husband until he was resting precariously on the edge of the kitchen island, squirming against Zane’s hold and trying to keep from laughing so loud that their guests would hear.

  “What are you doing?” Mark choked, still wiggling around in Zane’s grip.

  “I’m giving you an attitude adjustment,” he whispered against Mark’s neck, chuckling evilly. “Come on… Tell me you’re sorry.”

  Mark opened his mouth to either laugh or speak and Zane nibbled at his bottom lip. “We have people coming to the door!”

  “The sooner you tell me you’re sorry, the sooner you’re free, baby.”

  Mark wouldn’t stop his playful struggling, and when the doorbell sounded, Zane very reluctantly released him. “I’ll take it out of your hide later.”

  “Maybe you will and maybe you won’t.”

  Zane swatted Mark’s ass as he trotted off to answer the door, following at a slower pace. This was such a good, normal way to feel. He had a home with someone he loved—they were playful, they cared deeply for each other, sometimes they fought, but it was their life together. It was happy. How did anyone think this could be wrong?

  ***

  Damon’s eyes were everywhere, constantly moving and trying to figure out how a simple barbecue at a friend’s home had become a trip into Sherman Oaks. He’d already seen a home with a mailbox that was bigger than a vending machine and another place with identical sculptures of lions guarding a gated entrance. He had no idea what he was doing here.

  Alarik was driving silently, occasionally offering an encouraging look that Damon pretended he couldn’t see. He must look as out of place as he felt.

  “You said you’d been friends with these folks for a while?” he asked hesitantly, gaping at a Maybach 57 driving past them in the opposite direction.