Midsummer

4. Lex

My therapist told me to find a creative outlet—photography, drawing, writing. Something to channel the rage burning inside of me. Trying to fuck it away would only land me in a messy custody battle, and trying to snort it away would put me in an urn next to my brother, and apparently, bottling it up wasn’t healthy, either.

As with a lot of things in my life, I ended up where I did because of a girl. I don’t even remember her name. Kylie, maybe? Karli? Something with a K and an I. It didn’t matter because the point was I wanted to fuck her. She was hot and had great tits, and I wanted to see what my cock looked like in between them.

I had begrudgingly agreed to a double date with her friend, whose name I definitely forgot as soon as I learned it, and her friend’s boyfriend. I hated the term date, as I had taken up Ivy’s stance on relationships since Marcus died, but if it ended with my cock in her ass, I’d suffer through worse.

Except as soon as we got there, Karli (Kolbi?) ran into her ex and his new girlfriend. “Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

“Uh—” I didn’t know the right thing to say. No, right? “No.”

She rolled her eyes. “You took too long.”

I was about to tell this bitch to fuck off when the other half of our double date scooted into the barstools across from us. Karli’s forgettable friend and a tall, lanky dude wearing a Chicago Bears hat. I only noticed him because of the logo. It was strange to see an American football team represented this far away from the States, especially one that had never been any good. But I knew the Brits were into some American sports, so I didn’t comment.

“Don’t bother,” Karli said. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” I said. “We just got here.”

“Hey!” the dude said in an accent I hadn’t heard in months. “You’re American?”

“Yeah,” I said, delighted to have someone from home to talk to. “DC.”

“Chicago.” He narrowed his deep indigo eyes on me. “I know you.”

“Lex.” I held out my hand.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Lex Fairfax. That’s right. Jesus, man.” He shook it and introduced himself as Carter.

“Are we friends now?” Karli said. “Can we go?”

Carter and I followed the girls out of the pub and down the block. Karli and Carter’s date walked ahead of us, chattering on about Karli’s ex.

“You been in the UK long?” he asked.

“A few months. My parents sent me to St. Thomas after the thing with my brother.”

“I heard,” he said. “Condolences.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I cleared my throat, ignoring the uncomfortable knot that formed in my chest anytime I talked about Marcus. It should have been me. I choked that down, filing it away in the darkest part of my heart, and came back to reality. “What are you doing over here?”

“I’m in a student exchange with the Royal Theater Group.”

“Theater?” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, offering him one. “Like Shakespeare and shit?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking the smoke.

“What play are you doing right now?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a play, much less Shakespeare.

“Henry the Fifth,” he said. “It’s running next week if you’re interested.”

I had probably read it sometime at Mount Oberon, but like a lot of my life before Marcus died, I’d smoked that memory away. “Are you Henry?”

“I am,” he said, beaming with pride.

I sized him up. He was about the same height as me, maybe an inch taller at most, and had the same build. At this age, we had long, lean limbs and matching narrow torsos that only hinted at the muscles of a manhood to come. He stuffed his dirty-blond hair under his baseball cap, his dimples catching in the light when he smiled.

Carter was truly beautiful, down to his fluffy warm soul and big stupid heart. Maybe the camaraderie came easy because we were both from the States, or maybe it was the easy, carefree way he carried himself, but something about him drew me in. Once I was in the tractor beam, I couldn’t get out. I didn’t even try.

Carter had been performing on stage since he was a child. He loved football, cheesy horror flicks, and anything with Tom Hanks. His father, a chiropractor, and his mother, a yoga instructor, had divorced last year. He was the oldest of four children, the younger ones all girls that he’d raised after his parents split.

“Little sisters are the worst, man,” he said, running a hand over the back of his head. “You wanna know what’s wrong with you? Really wrong? Ask a little sister. They’ll gut you alive.”

I thought of Kit and the supernatural way she pinpointed the weakest part of anyone in her vicinity, thereby exploiting it for her own benefit. That, of course, made me think of Ivy, and I rubbed at my cheek, remembering the last time I’d seen her.

“Who do you want to win the Super Bowl this year?” he asked after we’d found another pub that suited Karli’s tastes.

“I don’t follow football,” I said.

“What? Dude! C’mon.” His features dropped. “You’re killing me.”

“I take it you’re a Bears fan.” I gestured to his hat.

“All the fucking way.”

I lit up another cigarette and took a drink of my beer as he went on about some guy I’d never heard of being the G.O.A.T. And fucking hell, but my therapist was right. I did need an outlet, but it wasn’t some stupid shit like photography or drawing.

It was a normal fucking friend.

How ridiculous to come halfway across the world to find one from my own backyard.

He made me laugh in a deep belly guffaw that poured out of me in big, hearty waves. We talked about sports and superhero movies, and not fucking once did he bring up my family or my brother or any of the other bullshit people usually asked about. Perhaps that could have been because we were in a foreign country and no one gave a shit about my last name, or maybe that’s who Carter was at his core, warm and kind and empathetic—the way a crackling autumn fire invites you to snuggle up next to it with blankets and hot cocoa or some shit.

It was the exact opposite of me. I was the dark void of a black hole, and I wanted to suck all that light right out of Carter Scott. Devour it whole.

It was sometime around beer number four that we remembered we’d been there with dates.

“Oh, shit.” Carter looked down at his phone. “I’ve got six missed calls from Mindy.”

I had a text from Karli saying she’d had a good time, but it wasn’t going to work out. I figured that was polite considering I’d ignored her most of the night in favor of her friend’s boyfriend.

“Are you two dating?”

“No,” he said. “Just a hookup.”

“Guess you lost out, huh?”

“Nah.” He gave someone across the bar a nod and a wave. “I think we can still score if you’re into it.”

I was, and we ended up fucking hammered back at a girl’s place.

* * *

I rubbed my face as my hookup slinked down to her knees in front of me, wrapping her lips around the tip of my cock, the world tilting on its axis considering how much I’d had to drink. I refocused on Carter, sitting on the couch to my left, his girl riding him while he dug his fingers into her hips.

This wouldn’t be the first time I’d fucked in the same room as someone else. It wouldn’t even be the first time I partner-swapped, if the girls were into it. My parents were liberal minded, and I’d gone to one of those snooty new age boarding schools. I didn’t like labels, but I did like sex. All sex. With everyone. Boys. Girls. Cute little enbies. As with everything else, I didn’t give a fuck what society thought of where I stuck my dick.

But Carter Scott still managed to shock the shit out of me. After I fucked my girl into a coma, she passed out on the chaise at the far end of the room, leaving me, Carter, and his brunette to our own devices. I lit a cigarette and let my head fall back on the couch, my mind struggling to focus on reality.

You know, the one where I’d met a guy at a bar and went back to some random girl’s apartment with him. The one where he currently had a finger on this girl’s clit and her tongue down his throat.

They stopped and looked at me, catching me staring.

Carter smiled, making my cock twitch at the sight of those dimples. The girl echoed his grin.

An invitation…don’t mind if I do.

I stood, anticipation flaming through me as I walked closer and stabbed the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. I sat down next to my new buddy and watched the girl’s tits bounce as she rocked against him.

“Do you want her?” Carter asked. “You can have her if you want. Right, sweetheart?”

The girl bit playfully at her finger and nodded.

“Hmm.” I considered, but I had different plans entirely. “How does she taste?”

“Like heaven,” he said.

“Let’s see about that. Turn around.”

She did, bringing her back up against Carter’s chest and her knees on the outside of his thighs, her sweet pussy exposed and ready for me. I kneeled in front of them, spearing my fingers through her folds and tracing my greedy hands over the spot where his cock slid into her.

I licked her clit, and she groaned, her fingers going for my hair. I did it again, taking my time in one long languid stroke. She squirmed, writhing and bucking into the touch, but it was Carter’s reaction that fascinated me. I licked closer to his shaft, not quite touching it, but just enough to tease.

I wanted him antsy. I wanted him waiting for it, knowing it would come, and I laughed out a breath when he shivered. This time, I sampled everything—from the spot where his balls met his cock all the way up her pretty little slit. Their collective groan sent a zing of pride down my spine, and I watched as Carter’s legs trembled.

“Fuck me,” he said in a slow groan.

“Yes,” she said, rocking her pelvis into it. Then the sound of a muffled ringtone cut through the air and she froze. “Shit. That’s my dad. They’re supposed to be in Paris.”

She sprang off Carter like the world had caught fire, his cock bouncing out of her and nearly smacking me in the chin. The girl scrambled to her purse, found her phone, and disappeared behind a closed door at the end of the hallway, leaving me alone with this throbbing problem inches from my face.

I looked up Carter’s body from my spot between his knees, and his eyes darkened, something sinful passing behind those indigo irises as an eyebrow rose halfway up his forehead.

Another invitation?

I licked my lips, tasting both her and him, and my heart pounded as I waited for him to give any indication that he wanted me to take care of it on my own. Who knew when that girl would be back, and the one on the chaise snored so loudly, the ceiling could come crashing down and she wouldn’t wake up.

“Do you want your dick sucked, Chicago?” I ran my hands up the insides of his thighs and blew on his shaft again, making it jump.

He pushed his hands into his hair, highlighting the muscles in his chest and his arms, and let out a long sigh. “I’ve never done anything with a guy before.”

“I’ll stop if?—”

“No,” he quickly said, making my skin burn. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I jabbed my forearm into his lower stomach and grabbed his balls with my other hand. He made a deep noise when I licked him from root to tip and sucked him deep, a noise that I knew would live in my head from that day on—half moan, half growl, all Carter.

I wanted him disheveled and clenching the couch cushions, a slave to his pleasure and knowing I was the one who made him that way. I wanted to taste him and consume him and find that thing that made him shine so brightly. Maybe I could use it to rekindle my own will to live.

He fisted his fingers in my hair and bucked his hips into me when he came in hot spurts down my throat. I let him use my mouth the way he wanted, swallowing down everything he gave me, and when he was done, I sat back on my haunches and grinned.

All that pale Irish skin had turned splotchy and red, reminding me of the fiery X on Ivy’s neck, and his chest heaved while he panted down his release.

“Fucking hell,” he said. “I can’t believe that.”

“Don’t sweat it, man,” I said to him, giving him a little pat on the center of his chest. “Everyone experiments. It doesn’t mean?—”

“Come here.” He pulled me up his body and kissed me. No hesitation. No qualms about me being a guy. Although I did just have his cock in my mouth, so we were well past propriety.

He cupped the back of my neck and dove his tongue into my mouth, his smoky sandalwood scent pluming around me. Then, he rearranged me so I sat next to him and he hovered over my torso.

“My turn,” he said.

“Wait,” I cut in. He froze and looked up at me as he sat between my feet, his arms splayed over my thighs with his big palms across my stomach. My angry cock throbbed at my protest, but I had to say it. “I didn’t do that so you’d do it to me.”

“Then why you’d do it?”

“Because I wanted to see what it looked like to break you apart.”

He curled his lips into a brief smile before he darted out his tongue and flicked at my tip. An electric jolt shot through me, making me hiss, and I damn near jumped off the couch. “That sounds good enough to me.”

He sucked me in deep, and I let out a groan from somewhere in the pit of my gut. My head fell back on the couch as a wave of electricity sizzled through my blood.

Good. Fucking. God.

For someone who’d never sucked dick before, Carter figured things out quickly. His mouth was hot and warm and soft, and when I told him to suck faster and harder, he followed directions. I ran my fingers through his soft blond locks and came down his throat in an embarrassingly fast amount of time. When he was done, he released me with a loud pop. I grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him up my body, wanting—no, needing—to taste myself on him.

I should have felt ashamed at the way I so callously corrupted such a bright, innocent soul. But that thing, that whatever it was, tugged deep down inside of my chest. It reminded me of the time I’d kissed Ivy on the banks of the Potomac River, like a vibrant foreboding, as if there was a part of me that was also a part of Carter, and this night had poked that dormant side awake.

The sound of a door opening broke our connection, and he sprang off me, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shit,” the girl said. She snatched up my shirt and pants on her way back over to us. “You two need to go. Now.”

“What?” Carter said. “It’s two in the morning.”

“My father is going to be home in ten minutes. He can’t find you here.” She shoved my clothes at me and picked up Carter’s to force them into his arms. “Come on. Go! Go!”

We made quick work of getting dressed, laughing as we shoved our legs into our pants and pulled our shirts over our heads. She opened the door, but her father was already on the other side, raising his hand to put the key in the lock.

Busted.

She shoved us around the old man, and he stormed inside, slamming the door and squawking at her drunk friend to get up. Carter and I stumbled into the night, barely able to stop giggling long enough to figure out where we were.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so light. Since Marcus died? Never?

“I’m just a few blocks up that way,” Carter said, matching my pace as we headed toward the major intersection.

“I’m out near Kensington.” I grabbed my phone and texted my driver my location. He replied his estimated ETA was five minutes. Then a brief moment of awkwardness fell on us while we played call me chicken.

“You should come to the show next week,” he said. “It’s one of the better ones, as far as the histories go.”

“Yeah?” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, maybe.”

Another heartbeat passed.

I should ask for his number. I should ask him to come back to my place and see what other parts he’d let me lick.

But I didn’t know what that pulsing, aching thing in my chest was, and it terrified me.

“When are you going back to the States?” I asked instead.

“The end of the semester is in two weeks. I’ll go back to Chicago for the summer, then I’m off to TW.”

“No shit.” The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Me, too.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, man,” I said. “My whole family went there. It was either TW or Harvard, and the winters in New England are almost as terrible as the winters in the Midwest.”

“Bite your tongue, blasphemer,” he said.

A tickle of amusement went through me.

“All right,” he said. “Stop dicking around. Give me your number.”

“What?”

“Give me your number.” He shoved his phone in my hand. “I’m not a superstitious person, but being in a foreign country and finding the only other American going to the same college as me next semester? Fate is obviously trying to tell me something. Put your digits in my phone and let me call you when I get to TW.”

I pursed my lips but did as he asked, sending myself a text so I’d have his number, too.

“Happy?” I put the phone back in his hand.

“Extremely.”

Whatever I would have said next died on my tongue when my driver pulled up next to us.

“You want a ride?” I asked.

“No, it’s a nice night. I’ll walk.”

I opened my door to get in, my heart suddenly a fucking anvil in my gut. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Come to the show,” he said. “Maybe I’ll give you an encore performance afterward.”

“A night with the king?” I blew out a teasing breath. “I’m not worthy.”

I memorized the way the moonlight twinkled in his eyes when he flashed me that killer smile one last time. “See you around, DC.”

“Later, Chicago.”