Scott Sherman - Third You Die

And given the confidence of that embrace, there was no way the relationship between them was unrequited. Lucas moved in for that kiss with no hesitation or fear. He knew it’d be returned.

At some point, outside of work and, I bet, behind Charlie’s back, Lucas and Brent had become lovers.

I didn’t blame him for being incensed to discover I’d lied to him.

I took a few steps backward and assumed a defensive stance. Legs wide for support and arms raised to protect my body and face.

I had a feeling that what I thought was a clever ruse to get myself into Lucas’s apartment was, instead, a cruel and heartbreaking deception.

I didn’t want to hurt him again.

But Lucas was enraged and built like a linebacker.

He turned and faced me, huffing like a bull facing a matador. His nostrils flared with anger and his eyes blazed. He was flushed with anger, his cheeks scarlet and so hot I could feel their warmth from a foot away.

Even so, I was struck by just how beautiful he was. Too bad whatever came next could get real ugly.

I took another step back, readjusting my arms to a less obviously defensive position. I faced my hands toward him and hoped he could judge body language.

“I can explain,” I said.

“Not after I break your jaw,” he growled. But he didn’t step forward.

“Brent was my friend. I know you cared about him. I’m trying to find him. I came because I thought you’d want to help.”

Lucas had one of those broad, open faces that showed everything he felt. His eyes softened a few degrees but his teeth remained clenched.

“Why did you lie? Why did you say you were him? ”

I could see Lucas was wavering between trust and anger. Hope and betrayal tugged at him in equal measures.

I took another step back. This seemed to make him even angrier. Or more suspicious. What had I done wrong?

I had to play him. But how? What did I know about Lucas Fisher, now Lucas Ford? Nothing.

Except… except I’d seen him before. In the first scene he ever taped with Brent. In most porn, by definition, you’re going to see a lot of skin. But in Lucas’s encounter with Brent, he also revealed what lay underneath.

The desire to be dominated.

From the first moments, it was clear how enraptured Lucas was by his younger partner.

The balance of power between them was striking. Despite Lucas’s age and size advantage over Brent, he immediately fell into the compliant role. Whether that was his general nature, or something triggered by the thought of being controlled by a smaller guy, I didn’t know.

For whatever reason, though, it seemed like surrendering to a little-brother type flipped a button in Lucas’s head. Amend that: flipped buttons on both of his heads.

During my years hustling, I learned a lot of lessons. One of the most lucrative was this: If a guy had a button, it always paid to push it.

“That’s enough,” I barked. I surprised Lucas, and myself, by reversing my slow retreat and briskly striding toward him. I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him against the door. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to assert authority.

“Cut the crap,” I ordered. I got up in his face like a drill sergeant. Like a lover. “I said I was Brent because I had to talk to you. I didn’t know how else to get you to let me up.

“I’ve spoken to everyone else I could think of. No one seems to know where he’s gone. You’re my last hope, Lucas. You may be Brent’s last hope, too.”

Lucas was more than big enough to have pushed me away. Instead, he stayed where I put him. An obedient puppy.

For now.

I tried to affect a Christian-Bale-as-Batman deep voice. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to calm the fuck down, invite me in, and maybe even offer me something to drink. Like a normal person.

“Then, you and I are going to put our heads together and figure out where Brent is. Are you cool with that? Because, if not, I’m more than happy to leave.

“I came to help you, Lucas, not to get manhandled. So, why don’t you stop acting like such a little bitch and maybe we can get to work and find our friend?”

Lucas raised his arms to shove me back. I shifted my weight to my heels. If he came after me too strongly, I was ready to protect myself.

Had I overplayed my hand? Misjudged how hard to push? My natural instincts urged me to back away, but my martial arts training gave me the confidence to remain still until he made his move, so I could use his momentum against him.

I was glad I waited. Lucas surprised me. The arms I expected to attack me instead wrapped themselves around my back. The towering mountain of man meat that fueled the masturbatory fantasies of millions was hugging me with the fervor of a five-year-old reunited with his daddy after getting lost at the supermarket.

Also like a lost little boy who’d just been found, Lucas was crying. Big, gulping sobs that shook the both of us.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He held me tightly enough to be uncomfortable. I felt his strong muscles pressed firmly against me.

Also pressed against me was his hard-on. Just like the first time he hugged me. Only, that one had been meant for Brent. This one popped up just for me.

Apparently, my berating and pushing him around had an even more dramatic effect than I’d expected. Guess I wasn’t wrong after all. That button of his was pretty dependable.

Still, as his sobs diminished and I patted his back, telling him it was all going to be fine, the mood shifted from one of confrontation to comfort. As he calmed down, the strength of his embrace and his erection diminished in equal proportions. In a few minutes, both came to an end.

He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “You must think I’m a freak,” he said, his voice croaky and breaking. “It’s just, I miss him so much, and I thought you were him. Then, when you weren’t, I wanted to kill you. Not kill you, of course. Just make this whole mess

… go away.”

He looked around for something. My guess was it must have been a tissue, because when he didn’t find it, he untucked his T-shirt and blew his nose into the hem.

“It’s just… I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about what happened. Not anyone. Not the truth. I couldn’t even tell them he’d gone missing.”

“You can tell me the truth,” I said. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“The whole story?” Lucas asked.

“I kind of think you have to,” I answered. “For a whole lot of reasons.”

I didn’t add that his mental health appeared to be one of them.

Lucas nodded, to himself as much as to me. He somehow looked burdened and relieved at the same time.

“Come in,” he said, a little dazed and off his game. He started down the hallway to the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” His voice had a robotic quality to it. He was trying to hold it together, but I also noticed he was doing exactly as I’d instructed.

Not quite like a normal person, I concluded. But close enough.

“Do you mind if I wash up?” We were passing a bathroom, and I needed a moment to collect myself.

“Go ahead,” Lucas said. “You want a drink?”

“Sure. Water’s fine.”

I closed and locked the door behind me.

The bathroom was chicly high tech. All polished aluminum and glass. The toilet was one of those tricked-out jobs with a built-in bidet, warming seat, and automatic disinfection. It made me wish I had to pee. Across from it, a fifteen-inch LCD screen was built into the wall. I guess reading on the john was passe.

The linen wallpaper, marble floor, and assortment of expensive, hand-shaped soaps spoke to excess wealth. Even the towels were designer, the letters KLN embroidered across their bottom. A play on “clean,” I supposed. For what they cost, I thought they could have spelled out the whole word.