Chapter 11
Sure enough he’d stayed the night, curled up against Duncan’s abs like a cat which had found the perfect nook in that spoon of hot flesh and skin.
Snuggling closer in that hazy sleep under his broad arm, the other one curled against his chest. Spencer was not used to being held, or cuddling up to his occasional fuck buddies or partners, and this was new, to crave a bit that warmth when he moved, look for him in that hazy sleep.
To stay put, and not feel trapped. He was pretty sure he had woken before Duncan, but he didn’t move, relishing a bit in his warmth, his breath in his neck, his chest rising, a familiar rhythm Spencer knew now.
His hand so close to his lips that Spence could not resist and nibbled at his fingers.
Not even knowing if he was awake. “You’re up?”
Moaning, a soft kiss on his neck as his arm tightened around him. “I am now…”
Spencer arched back against that erection wedged between his ass cheeks. “I see…” He turned his head, smiling up at him. “Morning quickie?”
Duncan brushed his hand down Spencer’s face. “You don’t tire?”
“Not when I’m focused on the task… or some bullshit like that.”
Laughing a bit, they still kissed, soft, because it felt right to kiss before they did anything else.
Because they both knew they shouldn’t be in each other’s arms. Maybe a thrill there above all that fright.
Spencer pushed through his mad fear though, wanting him more than riding that fright which would have pushed himself out of those strong arms. Fuck that…
Clinging to him, arching his ass against Duncan’s cock.
Duncan grabbed his jaw. “Greedy…”
“Always.” Grinning those flames in his chest away, he let Duncan push in, moaning softly.
It felt right, so right, as if they belonged together, those tortured shells of flesh, those neglected souls, and Spencer just floated on his thrusts, his kisses.
A lazy morning, eyes closed to that morning sun.
A lazy come too, still spent from their night.
Trembling, still, because it felt too good.
So right, it scared the shit out of Spencer.
Duncan caught that light in his eyes. “You have to leave?”
Spencer smiled, bitter. “Soon… my fucking parents are coming home and then tonight we’re due to a charity bullshit.”
Duncan tapped those angry lips softly. “Charity is not bullshit. Some people are in need, badly.”
He pulled a face. “Whatever… They’re also auctioning one of my paintings away, so I have to be there…
show my face…” He sighed; his eyes lost a bit.
“My mother built her reputation on posting me on social media from the moment she could so… it’s like her followers need to see what baby Spencer has become or whatever…
” That bitter, dangerous light in his eyes.
“He’s become something alright…” A vengeful grin.
Duncan stroked his hair back. “I’m sorry.”
Spencer smiled. “Oh, don’t be. It’s the past… And your parents? You said there’s no one to mourn you…”
Duncan sighed, almost pushing him out of his arms. Almost. But his eyes held him back, that genuine light in them.
A rare occurrence, he seemed almost a different man.
“I had a violent mother and a father who, when he could, put himself between me and her. They died, one after the other a couple of years ago.”
“So young Duncan ran to the military as soon as he was eligible…”
Duncan smiled. “Yeah… seventeen. Dad made sure the permission papers got signed.”
“Why there?”
“I had nothing and they had everything, with lots of promises of a great life and career.”
Spencer traced that large scar. “The price is not right…”
“It’s never right. No matter what you do.”
A tiny silence there which rammed into Spencer like a giant icicle.
“Uh… it’s all very philosophical but I have to go… otherwise I won’t be able to sneak out.” He pushed himself out of Duncan’s arms who just let him go.
Watching him sit, stretch like a cat.
Spencer’s dark eyes went to him. “Be there at the house around seven. No need to wait outside, we’ll have somebody drive us there…” Rolling his eyes as he stood. “In the same fucking car.” He waved at him when he had pulled his clothes on. “See you later, Righteous.”
Duncan just gave him a small wave. Sighing when he heard the door lock.
Fuck. Not even wanting to move, Spencer’s bites throbbing on his neck and shoulder muscles.
The little shit sure can bite… Smiling at the memories of Spencer’s nails wedged into his skin, he didn’t even want to see how his back looked.
Shower… come on… unable to rise, he just slipped back to sleep in that lush morning, drenched in their scent. At peace.
Much later, he was standing with the others in that large foyer, waiting until the family got ready, but Henry was late, taking a last minute business call.
Spencer was lounging on the sofa. He had dressed all in black, like a vengeance, black leather pants, thigh-high boots with large heels, a black silk shirt.
Smoky make-up, and dark lipstick. The outfit matched his nails, those sharp nails clicking on his phone screen.
Duncan could not see his eyes, could not see in what state he was in, worried.
Martina was sitting on a chair in a stunning violet dress, made-up, her hair impeccable. Glancing up from her phone, her voice cut that silence like a knife.
“You could have dressed up properly. Not like some sort of gay rockstar.”
Spencer smirked but never lifted his eyes. “I’m bi, mother, just in case you have vocabulary issues. And I dress however the fuck I want.”
“It doesn’t help your image, these depressing colors. Gives the wrong impressions.”
“Pray which one?”
“That you’re depressed.”
“And maybe I am.”
“Spencer!” Mocking.
Spencer raised those dark eyes at her, and Duncan’s heart skipped. “Fuck you, mother. What do you know of anything? Of me. I am maybe at the level of your expensive crystal vase.”
“How dare you! I suffered with your birth.”
“I never wanted to be born, did I? So fuck that.”
“You’re spoiled rotten. You owe us everything, including your success because it is surely not your looks, or your ‘talent’ as an artist that got you where you are.”
Duncan and the others stood in that uncomfortable silence, exchanging some quick looks.
Spencer poked his tongue out between his teeth. “I see…”
“What can I say? You’re a disappointment. You don’t even have a fiancée, a marriage to look forward to, fucking whoever lays their hands on you. That girl, Mia? I feel sorry for her. And all the girls you sacked after a few weeks. Shame.”
“Fuck you know about shame!” He almost stood when Henry appeared on top of the stairs, hurrying down.
“Sorry, I had to finish that call.” Smiling. “Can we go now?”
Martina stood and laced her arm in his. “Spencer is being an ungrateful brat, as always.”
Spencer’s eyes filled with hate. “I shall still drag my talentless ass to your miserable function.”
“The least you can do. The least.”
Henry shot them a puzzled look, but she dragged him away. Cole, Sully and Vic followed them, and Duncan followed Spencer who lagged a bit behind. He staggered, so Duncan caught his elbow to steady him.
Spencer leant against him, his voice, soft. “I wish I could just pull out of this nightmare…” Dizzy, he clutched at Duncan’s arm.
Duncan looked down at him, meeting those dark eyes framed in that black make-up. Wrath, a sea of it above that despair. “You’ll manage, come on. Drag your talented ass there.”
Spencer scoffed, that self-doubt burning his throat. “Talented, right…”
Duncan squeezed his elbow to get his eyes. “Fucking talented, yes. Come. Let’s go.”
Spencer sighed. “Don’t be too far from me.”
“I’ll be close.”
Spencer closed his eyes, but never let his arm go.
Not until he sat in the car, and Duncan had to sit in the front.
Spencer buried himself in his phone, in meaningless texting and messages exchanged with his friends, with Mia, with his social media followers.
Not drunk enough not to care, not stoned enough to laugh, listening in the background to his parents arguing, knowing they would give wide smile to the press as soon as they got out.
Fuck this. Thanking all the stars that they left him alone.
Burning, his body still filled with Duncan’s touch.
That craving for it so strong, he had to swallow.
The car turning on the street, they could hear the crowd, the photographers and press.
Shit. The door opened then, and his parents got out.
Spencer just sat, the lights flashing in.
A fear there he had rarely felt. A shadow, blocking out those blinding lights.
That hand he knew, waiting. Spencer grabbed it and let Duncan all but pull him out, steady him.
He stepped back then, but stayed close as Spencer climbed the steps.
Turning to the crowd and press for the photos.
A grand charity night, organized by one of the biggest real estate realtors of the city.
They went inside and found their table, and Spencer just took a bottle of champagne and filled his glass up, keeping the bottle close.
As ever, his parents didn’t care, and after the opening speech, the biddings started.
One after the other, the donators standing, smiling.
Spencer lifted his eyes to Duncan who stood close, a bit opposite him.
He lifted his glass, giving him a smirk.