Ed let out a breath that shuddered and said, “Fuck, Pash. I spent the first six weeks of the contest wishing you’d get voted out each week. You were such a pain in the arse. But the last two days without you have been murder. Now management are sending me back to….” He swallowed and shook his head. “The last thing I want is any more time apart.”
Pasha hooked a foot behind Ed’s kneecap and slipped a hand under his shirt, mapping each ridge of rib and firm curve of pectoral. “Me either. But you should definitely spend some time with those guys. Lay a few ghosts to rest, if you can. Then come home and lay me.”
Ed stifled a laugh and nodded while tucking his face into the crook of Pasha’s neck. He dragged Pasha to the edge of the counter where he ground against him, getting hard already. Pasha caught up fast when they kissed, deep and wet and desperate. He barely heard what Ed said when he dragged his lips away from his mouth.
“I’m not leaving without?—”
Pasha loosened the grip of his legs. This was too important to go unsaid. “Listen. We have to go where they tell us this time. You heard what the host said.” Breathing wasn’t any easier even with some distance between their mouths, especially when Ed unfastened his fly before attacking Pasha’s with single-minded focus. “We have to do what they say, Ed.”
“Yeah. This time. But then that’s it. No more distance.” Ed was clearly distracted. He pushed Pasha until he reclined, the back of his head against the mirror, and then tugged until his jeans and boxers were below his knees. His hand was flat on Pasha’s chest, and he pressed there before leaning in for a kiss that had a sharp edge.
“Pash,” he said, pulling back a scant inch. “Life’s—” He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment. “Life’s too short to stay apart from people who matter.” Ed shoved his own clothes down too then, his cock thick and rosy, filling his hand as he stroked himself a few times. “Let’s make the most of every minute.”
Pasha would have agreed, but Ed interrupted. He bent, his free hand on Pasha’s thigh less than an inch below his balls, and then looked up. “I want to suck you off.” He took Pasha’s quick nod as agreement. “I want to do a lot more than that.” Pasha nodded again, breath trapped in his lungs when Ed touched him, lifting his cock and lowering his mouth to cover its head.
A tall golden can of hairspray hit the floor with a clatter when Pasha flailed for balance. Ed’s mouth was hot, driving everything else out of his mind. He wove fingers into Ed’s hair and let out a deep groan. The feel of his mouth was intense, and while the bob of his head and the twist of his grip were familiar actions, this was Ed—his Ed—almost on his knees to give him so much pleasure.
Divided from a corridor full of partying people by only a door, Pasha pulled at Ed’s hair and whispered, “Fuck, comehere. Come up here.” He pulled until Ed was kissing him again, his cock a heavy length nudging Pasha’s thigh. Pasha wrapped his hand around it. He pulled a few times, tentative, his hand sliding velvet-soft skin slowly over flesh as firm as metal, and Ed copied his actions. He took it just as slow, waiting until Pasha sped up his first-time exploration before he matched his pace. They kissed, openmouthed and panting until Ed ducked his head again and sucked Pasha off fast and hard.
Pasha’s orgasm coiled, his pelvis tilting up until it hit, a sudden surge that came out with a raw yell. Ed’s hand covered Pasha’s mouth, stifling his next sobs as the last spasms had him curling upright before slumping. More debris scattered, hitting the floor, and Pasha couldn’t find a single fuck to give about the noise. He drew in breaths that stuttered when Ed leaned over him and wanked. His come was bright white against the pitch-black of Pasha’s pubes, and his teeth were just as pearly digging into the plush dark pink of well-kissed lips as he worked his cock with his hand.
Ed’s slump left him cradled in Pasha’s arms, face pressed against Pasha’s neck, muffling his words. “No more time apart after this, okay?”
Pasha pulled him up, intent on kissing him again rather than answer, until something banged against the door, diverting their attention.
Ed helped him clean up, staggering a step or two until he steadied, and wiping away semen with a hand that still shook. He made eye contact as he balled sodden tissues. “No way was I leaving without making sure you knew I was sorry.” The touch of lips was fleeting, and he smoothed Pasha’s T-shirt down before backing away to fasten his fly.
When Pasha asked, “Sorry for what exactly?” Ed frowned.
“For losing my temper when you clammed up. Whatever it is about your family that got you so upset doesn’t have to bemy business. We’re all entitled to some privacy.” He ducked his head before raising it again. “But I know what it’s like to keep things to myself for too long. I tried dealing with losing Steve on my own. Turns out I didn’t need to. I just needed time to sort out the mess in my head. We’ll have all the time in the world together after next week if you decide you want to share.”
His final kiss was so sweet, and almost unbearable in light of Gerry’s last threat.
The next knock against the door was more deliberate. Three sharp raps followed by the handle rattling. Ed’s “Wait a minute, won’t you?” sounded as desperate as Pasha suddenly felt when Ed looked directly at him. “But one thing won’t wait. What did that arse Gerry say to you right before the results of the vote? It looked like he’d punched you in the stomach.”
Pasha paused before shaking his head and reaching for the door handle. If Gerry hadn’t talked to Ed already, Pasha wasn’t about to burst his bubble. “Nothing I shouldn’t have known already.” He flicked the lock and opened the door.
Noise rushed in, incessant and grating.
“Wait,” Ed said, but Pasha was already stepping through the gap. “Wait,” he shouted, and Pasha glanced over his shoulder.
“Tell me, Pash.”
Pasha’s hesitation was momentary, and his reply was almost lost in a swell of people partying like there was no tomorrow.
“He reminded me,” Pasha started, tugging free from a production assistant who looked pissed off. “He reminded me to read the contract small print.”
Pasha satin the backseat of the car provided by the studio, paying scant attention to the assistant listing that day’s schedule. He kept his head lowered, checking his phone’s message inbox even though he knew it was empty, only lookingup when the car decelerated. It turned left toward a cluster of derelict factory buildings, their corrugated metal roofs a rusted zigzag against the threatening gray of the sky. The road between each unit was narrow, rough, and pitted with puddles as murky as his mood. The car splashed through them as they approached the only warehouse showing sign of occupation.
The production assistant talked as they parked. There was no real reason to listen closely. Today would be little different from any other since flying the length of the country northward. First Pasha was scheduled to appear somewhere worthy to link the contest to a local charity. Later he’d sing at a much more high-profile event designed to promote the contest’s sponsors.
Scanning nearby signage confirmed this morning’s stop was for a restoration project, but with only two days left between him and the final, it was hard to muster enthusiasm to get out. He slowly unfastened his seat belt, fingers lingering before depressing the button.
None of this seemed important compared to finding out whether Ed had understood Gerry’s message.
Message?
Fuck no.