Slam! He’d backed David against the stable wall. “Friend?” The word became a feral growl. He could feel David’s heart pounding, his forearm against his chest. His own breaths came short and fast, hot and full of that David smell–sport cologne and clean, young male.
David closed his eyes. “Yes. Friends. And then…” A sheen of sweat broke on his forehead, his skin flushing with it. His shoulder and biceps tightened under Brett’s other hand.
Fuck. David wasn’t the only one tightening up–and arm muscles weren’t the half of it. But hey, it wasn’t hard to notice David’s hard-on through those athletic shorts, either. God, damn it.
Brett let his head hang, which put his left temple against David’s right. “And then this,” he finished for David.
“I’m not fucking gay.” David’s words were fierce, but he sounded terrified. “I had to go. I had to.”
A part of him had been relieved–that hetero, scared part of him mirrored by David’s–when David had left. “I know.” He did, and could only imagine the situation would be more terrifying yet for a younger man unsure of himself.
David gripped his collar, pressed his fingers over that spot. Deliberate? Remembering?
He sucked in his breath, shuddered. “You left a mark.”
“I know.” David’s voice was little more than a hot, husky whisper, tickling against his neck.
It would be so easy, and yet so hard… But what they wanted wasn’t all that mattered. Vic mattered.
David shifted a little–to gain more contact or less? It made him all the harder. His gut ached; he’d broken his own sweat as well.
“And now we’re like some scene out of fucking Brokeback Mountain.” David choked, cleared his throat.
Brett gave the chuckle David had earned, and pushed himself back. “Regardless of your intentions, it’s up to Vic. You’ll pass her muster, or you’ll be on your way. I won’t pressure her so we can sustain this.” The sensation of David pressed rock-hard against his leg didn’t fade, even with several inches between their bodies. “I pressured her before.” And he’d go to his grave regretting her tears. “I’m to protect her, see?”
“I want to protect her too.” David moved away from the wall and smoothed his shorts, looking for all the world like he wanted to stroke himself. Christ, what sweet hell imagining… “…fucked up, though, right?” What was he talking about? “Vic doesn’t really need anybody to take care of her–or at least, that’s what she likes to think. How’s that supposed to work, anyway? It’s hard enough for two people to get along, let alone three.” Cart before the horse. He’d have to get past Vic before anybody worried about who took care of who.
Sometimes David simply talked too fucking much. “Shut up, you blathering bugger. Let’s go see if Vic is done recruiting Griffin, eh?” When they reached the stable door, he flipped the light switch. “Oh, and David?”
“Yeah?”
“If you cause her to cry again, I’ll rip your very smooth balls off.”
* * * *
Gil paused to pop out a piece of nicotine gum from its bubble pack. He hated the taste of the shit, but he’d been chewing it for ten years now, and he did enjoy the little buzz. Hmm. Victoria’s mutt was rooting around outside the stable. Did that mean she’d stopped by to pet her horse? Fucking thing was a menace–how she controlled it, he’d never understand. It was a good-looking piece of horse, though. Weird. He’d have figured she’d be with her guests-slash-prospective employees. Did this mean the visitors were inside with Grant? Maybe he’d score a few minutes alone with her.
He strolled over toward the stable, but stopped when he heard the low rumble of men’s voices inside. Not his lucky night. He turned away, but then…something in the tone of those voices… He edged to the side, close enough to look through an open window. It was dark out; no chance of being seen, but he’d as soon not be heard.
Well, look at that. Grant seemed to be in some sort of wantafuck embrace with that hot handful of Swimmerboy. Fucking hot. Same chunk of manflesh he’d seen on their deck on the boat, from the chopper. And he’d ridden up today with Griffin.
Griffin, who was having an interview for some safety or fireman job. Somewhere with Victoria, alone. He didn’t much like that thought. He couldn’t fault her taste in employees, at least. Well, aside from douchebag lawyers and the occasional fuckwit front-desk girl. Stupid Andrea hadn’t been any help at all, and neither had Peyton. Maybe it was time to quit relying on babes to help him out. He’d have to see about getting a guy on his team. Hmm. Griffin hadn’t seemed too happy to see him back at Salt Lake. Could be homophobic about their little interlude at the Lido bar. Could he use that to his advantage?