Chapter 9 #2
Duncan was still waiting for his call, ready if they needed to go, suffering a bit because he was worried to the bone that Spencer was smoking and drinking his body away. Snatching his phone up as it tore into that silence.
“We’re leaving. Dress up.” Click.
Duncan hurried to pull his clothes on, the evening bending into night, a small rush to his heart which he rubbed away, annoyed.
Driving the car up to the landing, watching Spencer walk down the stairs in knee-high white boots with heels, tight white pants and a white crop top, a red vest hanging on it.
Silk. He could identify it now. Typing on his phone, that lush hair floating around his shoulders, and somehow, there were whirls in Duncan’s chest, having had that body under his hands, it had a whole new effect on him, even wrapped in clothes.
Even with his make-up, smoky eyes and ruby red lipstick, matching his vest.
He gave Duncan a smirk as he held the door for him. “This is a better suit?”
Duncan scoffed. “My best.”
“I see…” Giving him a wink, he sank in the seat, pulling his belt straight away across his chest, he blew Duncan a kiss which sent Duncan’s blood up to his face and straight down to his cock.
Jesus… Conjuring that anger he had felt for Spencer, he somehow managed to calm down, and drive away.
Glancing a Spencer from time to time, his legs crossed, smiling at something on his phone.
His voice, out of the blue. “We’re going to a photography exhibition’s opening. I hope you like those useless fucks.” Chuckling, he never lifted his eyes from his phone.
Duncan kept quiet, pulling up in front of a venue surrounded by photographers already, models and other celebrities he had no idea who the fuck they were walking up those few steps draped in red carpet.
This red carpet shit… He got out though, and helped Spencer out, giving the keys to have the car driven away.
Spencer had already stepped a bit further away to pose for the photographers, turning to his name to give them a pose and a wide smile.
Duncan watched him but turned to a hand grabbing his upper arm. Almost knocking the man in the mouth when he recognized his perfume. Meeting his eyes.
“Trent?” Eyes wide, his heart had started hammering.
“You…? What are you doing here?”
Trent. Fucking Trent. With his immaculate grey beard and hair, his suit, that large camera on a strap. Fucking fuck. “I’m with my client.”
“Who?”
At this moment, Spencer walked back to Duncan.
It took exactly two eyelash bats for Spencer to understand what he was seeing.
Oh… His lips curled up and he looked at Trent, whilst talking to Duncan.
Whilst he slid his hand up Duncan’s shirt, under his jacket, on his side, that spot he knew now which made Duncan’s skin shiver.
That gesture unmistakable in its intimacy.
“Won’t you introduce us?” Sweet, but it had daggers.
Trent’s eyes went wide, glancing at Spencer’s hand resting on that spot he knew by heart.
Duncan tried to tame the flames eating his face, but Spencer’s hand didn’t help at all. “Uh… this is Trent Barrow… and this is my client, Spencer Galloway.”
Spencer held his other hand out to Trent. “Nice meeting you. Old friends?” He had stressed ‘old’, his lips in that mocking smile.
Trent’s eyes darkened. “Duncan was my partner.”
“Oooh, an ex! How exciting! I hope it wasn’t too hard to clean up that cake.”
The blood ran out of Duncan’s face, but Spencer just turned to him. “Well, don’t stay too long… I’ll be inside.” Giving one last squeeze to his ribs, he left, his hips swaying.
Trent was speechless with wrath at first but then he looked at Duncan. “You’re fucking this spoiled, drugged up twink?”
Duncan pointed a finger at him, his anger mounting too after the initial shock. “Watch your mouth.”
“I can’t believe this… you! Of all things! And you… you told him about us? About the fucking cake?”
Duncan glanced around and dragged him away, farther from the crowd. “Shut the fuck up! What I do with my life is none of your fucking business. Not after throwing my ass out!”
“And just where do you think this will lead? I know the young man, we all do. Hell, I took that photo of him he has in his fucking room!” Laughing at Duncan’s eyes going wide.
“Oh yes… we all know him… a drunk, drugged up to his eyeballs, if and when he can walk straight, fucking everybody who moves… good fucking luck with him. I’m just mad because you deserve so much better… ”
“Oh… now comes the patronising ‘deserve better’ talk. Well, fuck off. That’s all I have to say to you. And I do hope you could never scrape that cake off your wall, you low-life fuck!”
Trent’s eyes softened. “I wish you would understand…”
“I don’t. I fucking don’t…” Blowing a breath, he looked towards the lights. “I have to go. I’m working here.” He raised his hand at Trent’s lips parting. “No, the fuck no. Not a word. I hope we don’t meet again.”
“Be careful, Duncan, please…”
“Fuck you!”
He flipped him off, walking away, rushing inside to find Spencer, but he was surrounded by a small crowd of admirers, holding drinks, and chatting, so Duncan just stood near the wall with some other bodyguards.
Spencer still caught his eyes with a small wink. Drinking a bit that misery plain in Duncan’s eyes. A small idea in the back of his mind, he smiled and turned back to the people around him.
They left much later, Spencer clearly drunk, but he could walk to the car, clinging to Duncan’s arm.
Driving back, but Spencer made him stop the car before they got to the mansion.
“I have to throw up…”
Duncan hurried to open the door and caught him as he leant outside, but Spencer didn’t throw up. On the side of that dark road, he clung to Duncan’s neck, pressing his lips against his lips.
Whisper soft. “Fuck me…”
Duncan held his hips softly as he pushed him away. “No. You’re drunk…”
“So? I was stoned last time… it didn’t bother you then…” Leaning in for another kiss, but Duncan pulled back.
“Stop this. Even stoned, you knew where you were and what you wanted?” A small anxiety there, searching those dark, treacherous eyes. “But not now… drunk out of your mind.”
“Your ex filled your head?”
“No…” It was weak. He was weak, with that warm, lean body pressed against him, his arms around his neck, his perfume laced with his scent and sweat, his hair… “Fuck… you’re fucking poison, you know that?”
Spencer grinned and pulled closer even. “Yes, I know…”
“Fucking poison…” Opening wide as their mouths met, their tongues dancing, with that mad wrath of not being able to hold back, of not being able to think straight, at all. Still, Duncan broke the kiss when Spencer’s hands glided down to his ass. “But… I won’t fuck you… not now… not drunk…”
Spencer’s dark eyes filled with anger. “Oh, I see. Good enough stoned, not good enough drunk? You have some principles.”
Duncan couldn’t speak, because maybe he was right.
Spencer smirked and pushed himself out of his arms, swaying. “Then… drive back, mister Principle…” He fell back on the back seat, and managed to drag his legs in.
Duncan closed the door with a sigh, sitting in. He glanced back as he started the car, but Spencer was passed out, or so it seemed, so he drove off, cursing softly, his taste still in his mouth, on his tongue, sweet, the feel of his lips pulsing on his lips. Shit. Fuck.