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Run and Hide Pt. 01

By: CC_Ryder



I can see the headline: "Couple found strangled in paint aisle; home stager suspected."

Ace Hoffman's shitty afternoon had bled into the evening, turning his mood sour and sharp. His last appointment of the day was supposed to be a simple design consultation, a first-time evaluation of the home with a list of suggestions. No heavy lifting, in and out in ninety minutes tops.

But ninety minutes stretched into four hours, thanks to an unscheduled trip to the paint store and having to mediate two bickering homeowners. They simply would not agree on the colors to paint the rooms of a house that they were selling. With luck, they would only be living in that suburban box for three more months. Yet, every swatch turned into a protracted battle - and Ace was forced to be the patient referee.

These people needed marriage counseling more than a home stager. After the twentieth swatch that they held up for the living room, Ace was ready to scream, "For fuck's sake, you're from Johnson County! Pick beige and be done with it!"

Unfortunately, Ace hadn't built up enough clients yet to be able to turn any down any work. So he swallowed every tempting obscenity and gently guided them to their purchases - then got the hell away from them.

After a late dinner and a life-restoring whiskey at his favorite Irish pub, Ace still needed to unwind. The last thing he wanted to do was spend another Friday night alone in Lawrence, Kansas.

Nothing to distract me there anymore, now that the upstairs bathroom is tiled. Maybe I should buy another rundown house and fix it up so I can forget how fucking lonely I can get.

With no boyfriend - and no real prospects - Ace decided to head to Kansas City to find a warm body for tonight.

Times like this, he really missed Atlanta's hot and varied gay nightlife. His favorite stops, the friendly guys, the comfort of knowing he was at home in his surroundings. If he were back east, he'd go right to Molly's, which is where he first met -

Cameron.

The thought stopped him short. He thought he'd put his ex behind him, mostly by putting work in front of him.

That's why you threw yourself into that home remodel, he reminded himself.

It figures that every time he thought about getting laid in a bar, he'd think of his ex. That was Cameron's primary way of communicating with other men.

And outside those bars, Cameron wasn't much interested in being gay at all.

Now Ace was even more determined to take his mind off the things in his mind - this shitty day, that unwelcome memory.

Thanks to his constant work on his house, he not only was able to keep those thoughts at bay, but he also managed to leave no time for much socializing. So if he wanted to clear his mind the way he needed to, it meant Sparks.

He headed to that unassuming establishment in Kansas City's midtown area, suddenly eager to be surrounded by the scent of men, by their sweaty skin and burning eyes. As he entered the dark room, he could feel the atmosphere act like a balm on this itch he needed to scratch.

It was exactly the sort of crowd he would have expected on a Friday night in summer - the perfect mix of loose and tightly wound. Just being in the presence of all these men of such wonderful variety was enough to ease the tension in his body.

He had no real objective here tonight. It was a little like going to a bookstore just to browse, rather than to look for a specific book. He wanted to stumble on something - on someone - tonight.

Ace caught the eye of the bartender and through the crowded ordered a whiskey. The cute twink gave him a wink and poured him a double Jameson. The bartender - Jimmy - was a one-man welcoming committee for all newcomers to Sparks, as Ace had pleasantly discovered when he arrived to town last summer. Ace knew first-hand how talented that guy's mouth was. But it was well known that he never broke his one-time rule with customers.

Jimmy slid his drink to him, brushing his fingers.

"Got your eye on anyone tonight?" Ace asked Mr. Welcoming Committee.

"Only the man of my dreams," Jimmy sighed theatrically and nodded to the end of the bar.

Ace followed the gesture and felt his breath stop.

There stood the most masculine man he had ever seen. Not masculine in a musclehead way or in a leather daddy bear way - just classically male. Tall, broad shoulders tapering down to - oh damn, that ass. Dark, nearly black hair and a perfectly sculpted beard. Well-tanned skin - was that his natural color or did he spend a lot of time outside? Ace doubted it. His dream man was dressed in a sharp black suit, looking simultaneously cool and hot, detached from the swirl of less dressed bodies around him. Give this man a fedora and a cigar and he could have stepped out of a 1940s film noir.

Then Mr. Perfect turned and caught Ace's open stare. Ace wasn't prepared for those eyes - those grey-blue points of light, holding him in place with their intensity.

That one look made Ace's cock wake up to say hi. He licked his lips to soothe his suddenly dry lips. The other man's eyes never left his.

"Ah, damn it, I shouldn't have told you," Jimmy complained, drawing Ace's attention away from the delicious hole he was falling into.

"You mean you haven't welcomed him to town yet?" Ace teased.

"Haven't seen him before, but that's not to say he's not from here, of course," Jimmy reasoned. "Look at him. He looks like he needs to relax. So tense." He sighed dreamily. "The things I could do to loosen his muscles."

Ace saw the tension in their shared subject, too. He was now looking around disinterestedly, as if he was simply checking out the scene. But the tightness of his bearing told Ace he didn't know how to go after what he wanted.

I can fix that.

"What a shame you're stuck behind the bar on such a busy night, ambassador," Ace grinned at Jimmy.

Jimmy huffed. "Why must you steal my fun? You know I wouldn't play for keeps. No matter how tempting." He craned his neck to get another look at Mr. Hot.

Ace felt an unexpected flare of jealousy. He didn't want anybody else touching this guy.

Huh. Where did that come from?

"Sorry buddy." Ace laid down some cash for his drink. "I'm feeling a tad impatient tonight. I'd better get over there before somebody else cuts in line."

"Good luck, cutie."

That Jimmy was a good guy. Ace spared a small moment of regret for depriving Mr. Hot of his proper welcome, but that thought disappeared when he took another look at him.

The only one welcoming him tonight will be me.

He slowly worked his way through the crowd, ignoring the one or two interested looks he could feel follow him. He had his sights set on exactly one man right now.

By the time he'd reached his target's proximity, the dark-haired man's attention was on the sweaty dancing men on the floor. Ace sidled up next to him.

"You're a little over dressed for this joint," Ace said as an opening, leaning in close to his ear. "Not that I'm complaining. You do wonderful things for that suit." He let his eyes linger over every ripple in the fabric, up and down this beautiful body.

"I wasn't aware there was a dress code," Mr. Hot replied, turning to face him.

Oh my God, that voice. Deep and rumbling with a hint of teasing, Ace could feel it vibrate in his own lungs and skin.

"It's more of an undress code," Ace grinned, shifting slightly closer.

Tall-dark-and-rumbling glanced around them. "I can tell."

Ace wanted his focus back on him. "Are you meeting someone here?"

Those blue-grey eyes swung back to him, and Ace shivered under their gaze. This time Ace was the one being checked out, as Mr. Hot took in the sight before him. Ace hadn't changed after work - neither had this guy, obviously - so he was wearing khakis and a buttoned blue shirt. Not his typical going-out clothes, of course, but this wasn't feeling like a typical night, at any rate.

Ace, who was perfectly, exactly six feet tall, stood a couple inches shorter than the man examining him. He stood silently under the perusal, confident in what the other man would find. Ace's naturally curly blond hair was cut short enough to keep the curls at bay, but the heat and sweat of the bar was starting to kink out the ends and make him look a little undone. And while the light, intense eyes opposite him were scorching, Ace knew his own baby blues were the kind men could fall into.

"I think I've already met someone. Right here," Mr. Blue-Grey said after visually devouring Ace's lean body top to bottom.

"Well, the guy you've met is Ace." He stuck out his hand. "Who's the guy I've met?"

"Paul." Ace shook a large, warm hand and felt another bolt of lust at the contact. God, this man is turning me inside out already. What is going on?

"So, Paul, can I get you another drink?"

Paul considered his glass, then turned his gaze back to Ace. "I'm good. For now."

Ace took a long drink from his glass to fortify himself, and he felt the whiskey instantly burn and warm his blood. "At the risk of sounding like a cliché, do you come here often?"

"You're right, that is an old line," Paul laughed. "Couldn't come up with anything more clever?"

Ace soaked in that deep, pleasant laugh. He wanted more of it.

"Well, my clever pickup line was about the undress code," Ace grinned. "And you didn't answer my question. Are you new in town? Or new to the scene?"

Paul's face went tight and uncomfortable.

He doesn't want to talk about it, Ace thought. Doesn't want me to know something. Oh God, please not another closet case.

"I don't get out that much," Paul finally said.

"Well, since you're out now, let's take advantage of it." Ace put his drink aside and took Paul's as well. "Dance with me."

"I don't dance."

Ace took his hand anyway. "It's not ballroom. It's foreplay. Come on."

Paul resisted for a moment, and Ace tugged on his hand more insistently and turned up the wattage on his smile.

They wormed their way into the center of the dance floor, and Ace didn't let his hands leave Paul's body for a moment. Paul was right - he wasn't much of a dancer, but Ace wasn't concerned with technique. He wanted contact - as much as he could get.

The heat of all those bodies in close proximity made Ace's skin slick with sweat, and he could see the glisten on Paul's throat as well. Paul's sharp outfit not only had to be stifling, but it cast him out of place as well. Time to fix that.

"I do love this suit," Ace said, "but you really need to loosen up." Ace gently undid Paul's tie and flicked open the top button of the shirt.

He took advantage of this opening and pressed his face against the newly bared skin and took a deep breath. His eyes rolled back in his head at the scent - musky, sweaty, salty, perfect. How could this man smell so perfect - in the middle of Sparks?

Ace wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over every inch of this man's body, but he settled for savoring the feeling of their hips pulled close as he led their combined movement to the beat.

Paul brought his hands down to cup Ace's firm ass, and Ace caught a soft moan come he probably wasn't supposed to hear. Gotcha.

"So what brings you out tonight?" Ace asked, close to his ear.

"It's my birthday," Paul said.

"Really? Want me to give you a present?" Ace cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Or do you prefer to do the giving?"

Paul looked surprised. "You do both?"

"I love sex," Ace said, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust with his hips into Paul's crotch. "All of it, everything I can get. I want to taste it all, experience everything. Anything less is cheating yourself. You ever bottomed?"

"Uh, hell no."

Ace shrugged. "You're missing out." He swirled them both tightly, his hands memorizing the shape of Paul's ass. "It's electric and rearranges your blood cells and nerves and echoes inside you. Topping is tight and hot and powerful. But bottoming is an out-of-body experience. I highly recommend it."

"Not really my thing," Paul murmured. He dropped his mouth to the curve of Ace's neck and lightly bit the sweaty flesh he found there. Ace tilted his head to allow him more access, and Paul took it, teasing the earlobe, licking up trickles of sweat. The scratch of Paul's beard drove him wild, and he wasn't content with only feeling it on his neck.

"What is your thing, then?" Ace was in danger of losing his sense right in the middle of the dance floor.

"Mmmmm, your ass." He switched to the other side of Ace's neck to continue his torment. "Your ass is my thing right now. Wanna fill you up, touch every bit of you. Taste you, see if you're as sweet as you look."

Paul's growling words connected directly with Ace's cock. He'd wanted this man from the moment he saw him, and now he was determined to have every dirty thing Paul was promising. They needed to get off the dance floor. Now.

"Come home with me," Ace purred into Paul's ear.

"No."

Ace pulled back and frowned. "Just no?"

"Not home." Paul's eyes had gone dark with lust. "Is there someplace here?"

A bolt of hunger shot down Ace's spine.

"Depends on what you have in mind," he said, his tongue thick in his mouth.

A gleam lit Paul's eyes. "I want to find a dark place in the back and bend you over and fuck you until you forget your name."

Ace swallowed slowly to clear his clogged throat. He took Paul's large hand in his own. "This way," he said in a low rasp.

Sparks had space in the back where the lights were always low and the men were always obliging, but that's not where Ace led Paul. He detoured to a spot near the back entrance, close to the bar's offices. The last time he'd done this, the bartender had worked his magic in a tucked away corner with no spectators. That's what Ace wanted in this moment. Wanted Paul all to himself, away from other hungry eyes.

And God knows all the eyes in this place were hungry for Paul. Ace could hear sighs of disappointment around him as he made his way through the crowd.

Once they were in that back corner, the thumping noise of the dance floor was reduced to the muffled heartbeat of the brick walls. Ace turned and planted his back against the wall to wait for Paul's move.

"Nice," Paul growled. "Good spot. You do this a lot, huh?"

Ace flinched internally at the implication. He wanted to make it clear that these were special circumstances, that he usually preferred a bed for even a one-night stand.

But he also didn't want to waste more time talking.

"What can I say?" he said lightly. "I'm inventive."

"Oh, I'll bet." Paul captured Ace's mouth in a hot, hard kiss, a demanding clash of lips and tongues. Each man was trying to devour the other, to claim new territory, to fill the pulsing need inside them.

The teasing, introductory touches on the dance floor were replaced with clutching, groping, tight knuckles and skin itching to be free.

More than anything, Ace wanted this man naked, wanted to see every inch of his skin and trace every muscle with his tongue. But what he wanted and what was practical were two wildly different things.

As Paul attacked his neck with a hungry mouth, Ace clumsily unbuttoned the damp suit shirt. Leaving the shirt and jacket hanging on those broad shoulders, Ace parted the fabric and licked all the skin he could find.

Mmm, he loved a good adam's apple. Ace planted his mouth on that sharp protuberance and sucked and tongued every lump and ridge he could find. Even better, he could feel Mr. Hot and Rumbly's moan ripple down his throat.

"Ah, fuck, you taste good," he mumbled against Paul's chest as he trained down that tempting plane of flesh. "Wish I could see all of you." He sucked one hard nipple into his mouth and teased it lightly with his teeth.

Paul hissed as Ace tugged on his sensitive nipple. "What are you trying to do, eat me?" he growled.

Ace looked up at him and grinned wickedly. "Now that you mention it."

He dropped into a squat in front of this beautiful man, careful not to let his knees touch the dubious floor. He palmed the thick length jutting out urgently against the black trousers and leaned in to smell Paul's true essence.

Oh, this is going to be good.

Ace looked up at Paul, who was staring down on him intently. "Lean back now," Ace said. "But don't come this way."

He unzipped the fly and pulled out a hard, long, mouth-watering cock. "I'm going to want this inside me. But first..."

Ace licked the smooth head, lapping up the drops of pre-cum leaking out. So good. Sweet and spicy.

Paul growled and laced his fingers through Ace's hair, massaging his scalp and urging him forward.

Now to show off.

Ace licked up and down the shaft to lubricate it. Then he relaxed his throat and swallowed him whole.

"Fuuuck," Paul groaned, letting his head thump against the wall. "So fucking good..."

Again and again, Ace took his length deep and massaged the spongy muscles with his throat. He could feel Paul's urgency build and rise, his balls drawing up and his fingers tightening in Ace's hair.

He pulled off the throbbing cock with a pop and gave it one last kiss before standing up.

Paul yanked him close and kissed him fiercely, driving his tongue deep into Ace's mouth. He hastily opened the button and zipper on Ace's pants and lowered them to just below the butt. He started to turn Ace around, then stopped suddenly.

"Shit. Do you have anything?"

Ace blinked. "You mean a condom? You came into Sparks without a condom?" he said, incredulous.

"No. I mean, of course I have a condom. I meant lube." Paul groped Ace's ass with greedy hands. "You're gonna need something more than spit."

Ace snaked his hand down to the pocket of his pants and fished out a small packet of lubricant. He flashed it triumphantly.

"Always prepared," Ace said.

Paul quirked an eyebrow. "Boy Scout, eh?"

"I doubt the Scouts would have me."

"But I damn well will." Paul took the lube and spun Ace around.

Ace could hear the crinkling and rip of the condom package, followed by the cold wetness of the lube along his crack. He spread his legs and arched his back, his fingertips gripping the rough bricks of the wall.

"Christ, what a beautiful ass," Paul breathed. "And all for me."

He quickly prepared Ace with his fingers, too desperate to spend very long on any more foreplay.

"I could tell, just by looking at you," Paul groaned. "Knew this would be good." He dug his fingers deeply into the soft, firm skin, massaging it and claiming it. Ace just knew there would be visible marks tomorrow, and he welcomed them.

"Mmm, I could make a meal of you," Paul rasped. "Could eat you alive, starting right here."

Ace wanted to say, so come home with me. Buffet's open all night! But he knew that wouldn't happen, and wouldn't help.

Besides, he wouldn't stop now for anything.

Paul positioned himself behind Ace's ass and leaned over to chew on his earlobe for a second.

"Ready for me?" he whispered into his ear.

"God, yes," Ace moaned. "Fuck me. Fill me up."

Paul growled low in his throat and pressed his large cock against Ace's pulsing hole.

Ace gasped as the smooth head penetrated his ring, followed by the slow push of the rest of that endless cock. Paul was taking his time with a patience that Ace both cursed and appreciated.

Finally, finally, he felt the coarse hairs of Paul's pelvis rest flush against his ass. Both men let out satisfied moans in unison.

My God, it's been too long since it's been this good. Too damn long...

Paul licked the sweat from Ace's neck as both men adjusted to the feeling of being united.

"Brace yourself now," he whispered. "I'm not going to hold back."

"Such promises. Show me what you've got."


Run and Hide Pt. 01



With that, Paul leaned back and started pumping his cock in and out of Ace's clutching hole.

He savored that motion, that insistent, electric movement gaining speed on every pass. Ace could feel every ridge and vein of the invader he welcomed so desperately. And with every thrust, Paul's perfect cock brushed Ace's prostate and sent white sparks bursting behind his closed eyes.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh seemed to keep time with the thumping beat of the dance floor. Ace would never again be able to hear that song without getting hard.

The only thing that marred the experience was his view - a dirty dark grey wall instead of those hypnotizing eyes.

What he would give to drink in this man's body with his eyes, his hands, his tongue.

This one frenzied fuck in Sparks wasn't going to be enough - not nearly enough. Even as he was stubbornly holding back on this orgasm, Ace was already planning future orgasms, ones he wanted to get started on right now. He wanted to live in this breathless, suspended moment endlessly.

He squeezed down on Paul's cock to bring their flesh even closer together. A pained, hungry groan spilled from Paul's mouth.

"God, you're so hot, so fucking hot," Paul panted, still snapping his hips against Ace's ass. "Don't make me come yet. Want this to last."

"Can't help it," Ace grunted. "Want more. So much more. Come on, fuck me!"

Paul growled low in his throat and sped up his pounding. Ace rode on a wave of pure sensation, so close to the edge of falling over.

"Oh yeahhh, you're gonna come, gonna come while I'm in you, gonna squeeze my cock with your ass, just like that." Paul's rumbling words shot straight to Ace's balls, which rose up tight against his body. He was moments away from coming, so he reached down to take hold of his aching erection.

Paul slapped his hand away and wrapped Ace's cock in his right hand.

"Gonna make you come so hard," he growled. "Gonna pull this load out of you. Want to make you lose your mind."

Ace couldn't speak. He didn't want to break the spell that Paul's low voice was casting over him. He couldn't even talk dirty back to him - hell, he could barely breathe.

Paul tugged roughly on Ace's cock and kept up his relentless fucking.

"Come on, Ace. Do it. Now. With me."

Ace closed his eyes tight and felt everything stop - everything but the thick spurts shooting from his dick all over the wall. He could distantly feel Paul slam into him one final time with a deep grunt and a shudder.

Reality disappeared, Sparks vanished - all he could feel was bliss, mind-erasing bliss. His breath echoed in his ears, his heated blood rushing palpably through his veins.

As his brain rebooted, Ace calmed his breathing and straightened his clothes. God, what was that? I mean, that was crazy hot, but what was that?

The heat from Paul's body was noticeably absent, so Ace went looking for him. He wanted a phone number, a date, something. Didn't want to lose track of this guy.

He made his way back to the bar area, keeping an eye out for Paul.

"What's the matter, doll?" Jimmy teased. "Lose him already?"

"Did he come out this way?" Ace asked, a little breathless.

"Haven't seen him." Jimmy passed a drink to one of the sweaty men crowding around the bar. "Your ride must have turned into a pumpkin. I hear it happens after the ball."

Ace didn't respond. He didn't want to joke about Paul. His heart suddenly felt both tight and empty. Even though he came here to get that persistent itch scratched, now that he'd done so, he felt rubbed raw.

It was official. He just wasn't built for the back room. That had been Cameron's milieu, and God knows it worked for plenty of men. But he clearly wasn't able to come and go in a blink like that. He wanted more - had wanted more from the moment he'd touched that impossibly beautiful man.

And now he was gone, like a half-remembered dream and just as substantial.

Damm.

Chapter 2

Paul McDonnell woke mid-morning on Saturday with the odd sensation that he was still drunk.

Yeah, polishing off that bottle of whiskey at home might have been a mistake, he thought.

The room swayed as his brain struggled to regain its fixed position in his head. It was going to take all day to get rid of this patient, extended hangover.

Well, that was just about the shittiest birthday of his life. Except for that one part, of course. The one part that salvaged the whole night.

It still bothered him that he had to resort to going solo to a bar just so he wouldn't be alone on his damn birthday. It wasn't as if he didn't have friends. Right? It's just that they're all married now, not likely to ditch the wife and kids for a night out with their bachelor friend Paul.

And Paul wasn't the type to throw himself a big birthday party - particularly not to celebrate turning thirty-six.

There's nothing to celebrate about turning thirty-six. Alone.

But when his brother couldn't even make it out for a drink - thanks to a mandatory dinner with his fiance's parents - Paul refused to sit in his bland condo in Lawrence and watch the rain fall outside. So after staying lingering over dinner in Kansas City, he took himself out for his birthday.

He'd never been to Sparks before, though he of course had heard of it. Even authentically straight guys knew about Sparks. The only thing that had kept him away was its proximity to his home and work. Usually when he needed to release some tension and be himself, he headed out of town for a weekend or a vacation - somewhere he wouldn't run the risk of bumping into a patient or a neighbor or anyone who could recognize him.

Coward, he accused himself. Thirty-six and a coward.

He silenced his inner critic with the facts. It simply wasn't worth it to come out. Why risk the lost clients and the disappointment of his family? He'd never met anyone who could convince him to take that step. If being out meant he could get his itch scratched in Kansas City rather than hundreds of miles away, well, that just wasn't enough of an incentive.

Still, he couldn't be completely sorry that circumstances had led him to Sparks last night. Not after the way it turned out.

Thank God for that delicious blond. Paul felt his cock stir just recalling the feel of those curls in his fingers.

From the moment he spotted him, Paul could tell this man was different from all the other surging bodies around him. His confident gaze, the way he held his eyes - Paul could tell this guy was his equal, his match. Someone strong and solid and willing to match him move for move.

And his scent - fuck, his scent. As a chiropractor, Paul spent every day up close with people's bodies, so he was used to encountering all kinds of odors that linger on the skin. But never before had a man's skin rendered him stupid with hunger. Ace had intoxicated him. He couldn't name the elements that combined to form his scent, but it added up to the perfect aphrodisiac.

Paul shook his head to clear it. It didn't matter what that man smelled like or how addicting his touch was - last night was just like every other sexual encounter he'd had with men. One night only. Get in and get off. Scratch that itch.

But his hands twitched to keep scratching.

For some reason, he felt guilty about leaving without a word once they had both come so explosively. That was new -- usually, he forgot their faces the second his balls had emptied.

Not this time. He remembered everything about Ace -- the taste of his sweaty neck, the delicious shape of his ass, the impossibly tight home his dick had found there.

They hadn't exchange more than first names and orgasms. And Paul wasn't about to start hanging out at Sparks on a regular basis just to look for him. So it was best to stop wishing what if.

Once his lust had been slaked -- if only temporarily - Paul realized with a sickening thunk in his gut that he needed to get out of there. Fucking so close to home was expressly against his own number one rule, and he had broken it almost as soon as he had broken rule number two: don't go to gay bars in Kansas City.

So he took off, no pleasantries, no promises. Not that he could have made - or kept - any promises. It was for the best.

But the whiskey he guzzled back at his condo to make him forget all his broken rules wasn't exactly the best idea. Especially since the whiskey decided to stick around for the morning.

Or what was left of the morning. Paul held still for a moment to let his eyes slowly gain some focus on the clock. Nearly 11. Shit. Steven will be here soon.

For as long as he had memory, Paul and his brother had gone to a baseball game for his birthday, even if it meant ditching school or making travel plans during college. And the Royals were playing at the K this afternoon, which meant an afternoon in the sun watching his beloved team more than likely blow an early lead by the eighth inning.

Nothing's better for a hangover than loud fans, a sunburn and overpriced beer.

Paul surveyed his condo to see if he needed to do anything last-minute cleaning. His drunken birthday binge had only resulted in one spill, though it was a doozy -- right on to his computer keyboard, of course.

Other than that and an empty bag of chips, his home was as it always was - clean and sparse. The big-ass sixty-inch LCD television dominated the living room and was the only thing on his wall. He didn't technically need such a large screen, especially when he and his brother were the only ones around to watch anything. But one test game of Resident Evil 4 on the showroom floor convinced him to lay down two grand.

The walls were beige, the carpet was gray and the TV was black. That was the extent of his home's color palate. This was primarily a place to sleep, to work out and to watch sports and play Wii. Other than that, Paul didn't put a lot of effort into his space. Paul had chosen a condominium because it came with included maintenance and no hassles. He spent most of his time at his office in Lawrence or at Steven's house in south Kansas City, anyway.

Paul made quick work of the small mess, then showered and regained the use of some of his brain cells thanks to that restoring spray. He didn't want Steven to catch of whiff of his hangover. Didn't need anybody knowing what he had resorted to last night.

His hair still a little damp, Paul came downstairs just in time to hear the pounding at the door.

"Open up, old man!" His younger brother never let him forget the four years that separated them in age. "Gotta watch our boys bite it again!"

Paul shook his head and smiled. One of the few consolations of rooting for a perpetually lousy team was the ability to mock it, lovingly, mercilessly.

Paul opened the door to his brother's grinning face. Steven McDonnell was a less stocky version of Paul - lighter hair, thinner, smooth shaved, but those same eyes and almost exactly the same height. They were a striking pair who always turned heads when they were out together.

Not many people found a best friend in their brother, and Paul knew how lucky he was.

"So, think our boys can put together a win for your birthday present?" Steven asked.

"The world of sports is full of all kinds of miracles," Paul said. "Besides, they've done it before, just for me."

"In this decade?" Steven scoffed.

"Historically, May is not their month," Paul defended.

"Historically, summer is not their season," Steven countered. "But we love them anyway. Such masochists, I tell you what."

"My car or yours?" Paul asked.

Steven looked longingly at Paul's sleek black Acura, then sighed. "Mine. It pains me, but mine. I'm all gassed up."

"You know, I should have met you at your house," Paul said as they pulled on to K-10. "It's ridiculous for you to drive forty-five minutes out of your way just to pick me up."

"Yeah, but I felt bad about ditching you last night," Steven said. "The least I can do is chauffeur."

"Does that mean you're going to skip the beer during the game?" Paul teased.

Steven twisted his mouth. "That doesn't qualify as the absolute least I could do, bro. I'll be good, but not that good."

Translation: Your drunk ass will be sleeping on my couch. Sounds about right.

"You won't believe the tickets I scored for us," Steven said. "One of the parents in Holly's class has season tickets in the Diamond Club section and a parking pass that gives us a space practically next to the building."

"Wow. Remind me to be nicer to Holly."

"You're always nice to Holly."

"I'm scared to be otherwise," Paul said. "She can be - what's the word I'm looking for? Fierce."

"In all the best ways," Steven sighed happily.

"Agreed." Paul really did like his future sister. Holly Shipley was exactly the kind of woman his brother needed. Someone who could give him some direction and make him smile like an idiot. In fact, if Paul went for girls, he'd pick her.

But try as he might, he gravitated toward men. Men with solid muscles and strong hands and lickable skin and blond hair that was starting to curl at the ends -

Paul shook his head to clear it of thoughts from last night. The last thing he needed was to pitch a tent in the car next to his brother.

Steven wasn't kidding about those tickets -- or that parking pass. Paul had never gotten into his seat quicker or with less hassle. Hell, their seats even came with waitresses to bring them beer. This is how you celebrate a birthday, he thought. He could feel his hangover lessen with the familiar rhythms of a ballgame getting ready to begin.

"So, when is the house going on the market?" Paul asked as they settled in to seats that were about fifteen rows right behind home plate. "You said something about waiting until spring got warmer, and I'm here to tell you, it has come to pass."

"Signed all the papers with a realtor this week," Steven said. "He did a walk-through and gave me this whole damn list of things I need to do."

"Sucks being a homeowner."

"Says the guy who doesn't even have to mow his own lawn," Steven scoffed. He flagged down a waitress, who brought them the necessary beer and hot dogs and popcorn.

"What's on that honey-do list, then?"

"Well, he's setting me up with a home stager, whatever the hell that is," Steven said.

"That would be someone to tell you how useless your furniture arrangement is, kiddo."

"Thank you, Dr. McDonnell."

"Who is he sending?"

"Some chick named Acelin. Never heard of a name like that before. Or maybe it was Allison. I didn't read it that closely."

"Of course not," Paul said under his breath.

"Doesn't really matter who's doing it," Steven said. "David said my house needs to be staged, and this was the stager he uses."

"Clearly, your realtor could tell you desperately need a feminine touch," Paul said dryly.

Steven snorted. "Clearly, I get touched by something feminine a hell of a lot more often than you do."

Paul cleared his throat and acknowledged the truth of that, though not the whole truth.

"Speaking of," Steven continued, "any prospects for your arm candy at my wedding?"

Paul grimaced. "That's a pretty thankless job, being the date of the best man. I'm going to be a little busy that night, what with the inappropriate toasting, the drinking to excess, the embarrassing words I'll need to spray in shaving cream on your getaway car."

"What about that secretary of yours?" Steven was undeterred. "She's healthy looking. And - what's the word I'm looking for? Avid?"

"That's a word, yes. Avid." Paul took a drink to rid his mouth of the unpleasant taste that had popped up. "She's really and officially not my type. Plus, you know better than to date an employee, come on."

"Okay, fine. Not the avid secretary. But you gotta find somebody."

"Oh, I gotta, little brother?"

"You're 36 now, big brother," Steven persisted. "Gotta make a decision sooner rather than later."

Paul shrugged. "Well, I figure your wedding spares me a couple more years of mom's nagging. Even more if you and Holly start squeezing out grandbabies."

"Yeah, you totally owe me."

"Amen."

"So, help me with the home stager chick," Steven reasoned. "I need backup in case she wants to put pink flowers everywhere or something."

"You think it will take two big, strong men to stop one woman from forcing you to live in a girly dollhouse?"

Steven blew out a big breath. "Yes."

"Fine," Paul sighed. "I'll protect my widdle bwutha one more time."

"Excellent." Steven finished his second beer. "And who knows? Maybe she'll be cute and you can bring her to my wedding."

"Jesus, you're worse than Mom. Are you sure pink flowers aren't your thing?"

Steven threw peanuts at his head.

Steven wasn't wrong. Paul knew he couldn't keep up the bachelor façade forever. And inside, he knew his calculations were off -- once Steven was married, there would be nothing to distract his mother from resuming her relentless push for him to settle down with a nice girl.

But it was more than that. How long could he realistically live with random encounters and vague answers to pointed questions? Paul had been living his life in limbo for two decades now, sort of hovering over the path he wanted to be on.

It's time to find your yellow brick road, buddy.

Chapter 3

All day Saturday, Ace activated his go-to defense mechanism to distract him from his brain: He cleaned.

If there had been even one errant renovation task he could have performed, he would have played that card. He did this every time. Whenever Ace's love life -- or, in this case, his fuck life -- threw him for a loop, he threw himself into his house.  

In the last nine months, he had stripped floors and walls, painted every room -- then repainted when the color didn't work -- learned plumbing, drywalled, insulated, tiled, spackled, de-molded, re-moldinged, caulked, rewired. Every project gave him something to cuss about other than his love life.

And now, he was done. Finished. Project-less. Distraction-free.

If something didn't happen in the long term, he was going to have to move. Find another house to remake from scratch.

In the short term, though, he decided to clean the living hell out of his house.

Every piece of funky college student artwork got dusted, every stray cobweb got evicted, every curtain got laundered, every piece of furniture got steam cleaned.

All that work bought him about seven hours of distraction.

Then came Sunday. More than any typical date night, Sundays reminded Ace of the best of times with Cameron -- the long, sun-soaked afternoons under the sheets, the naps in each other's arms, the blissful domesticity that he craved.

So, of course, without those teasingly perfect days, Ace had filled his Sundays with distractions, assisted by his best friend, Erik Wallace. Together, they rebuilt this broken house and tore down their exes in the process.

Facing an empty Sunday -- and, now, a clean house -- Ace called Erik and Olive and Vince for an impromptu housewarming party on Sunday afternoon. Ace hadn't seen Olive and Vince for months, which was a little unforgivable considering his old friends from Baltimore were the reason he landed in Kansas in the first place.

He'd been staying with them when he first moved to town, and there at this end of their block was this breathtaking mess of a house.

He shouldn't have bought this house - or any house, for that matter. He should be living in an ecru and probably temporary apartment next door to stressed-out grad students.

Good bones - that's what realtors and remodelers say. This house had good, out-of-place, out-of-time, Victorian, sharp bones. Lawrence boasted some schizophrenic streets where consistency was clearly considered to be the hobgoblin of little minds. But even among such neighbors, Ace's house had stood out.




Run and Hide Pt. 01



It was a haunted house waiting to happen, a place that craved paint of every color, two bricks away from condemnation. No one in his right mind would step inside, let alone buy it.

Ace fell in love.

He wanted to give it new life - his new life. And as a bonus, the insane amount of work it would take would also help take his mind off Cameron.

He wanted to paint himself into a fairy tale, all warmth and coziness -- with a touch of darkness. So he went to town on the walls, filling them with royal colors, deep and rich. And he then filled those walls with any random piece of art or rusty metal or salvaged road sign that caught his eye.

He wanted to feel tucked into this house. And it worked. He could look around his little nest with a lot of satisfaction and know that he created a perfect home for himself.

Unfortunately, he was still tucked in all alone.

With nothing left to keep his hands or his mind busy on Sunday, Ace decided to wait for his guests on his creaky front porch.

While he was outside, he kept an eye out for his vagabond porch kitty, in case Lola decided to pay a visit. He filled the small dish he kept out there with some kibble just in case. Ultimately, though, Lola tended to show up exactly when not expected. Ace had a feeling this cat preferred it that way.

Before long, a pixie-ish woman with short silver and black hair came walking up his path, followed by a tall, lanky man with a looping stride. Olive looked every bit a former hippie, just mellowed and strengthened with age. And if Vince were any more laid back, he'd fall over on his butt.

Right on their heels was Erik, Ace's best friend and remodeling sidekick. Olive had introduced Ace to Erik, probably hoping that the two gay men she knew would start dating.

"Curly Sue!" Olive beamed, wrapping her tiny frame around Ace. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

"That's what I plan to show you." Ace reached around to shake Vince's hand. "Dr. Boyer, how are things?"

"No complaints," Vince grinned. "Curious to see what you've done to this old place."

"Erik has been frustratingly cryptic," Olive grumbled.

"And spoil the surprise?" Erik winked at Ace. "This house defies description, anyway. I'll leave that job to you, our resident English professor."

Ace led them through the front door and waited for their judgment. People who knew what he did for a living always assumed that his home would be showroom caliber, ready for its Martha Stewart Living close-up.

The whiplash from reality meeting those expectations was always fun to watch.

At work, he lectured his clients on the benefits of a neutral palate, the dangers of crowded bookshelves, the proper way to coordinate artwork with furnishings.

For his own 100-year old piece of Earth, he broke every one of those rules.

Ace's house was nothing less than a full symphony of the senses. Not just one or two color notes, not just one standout piece of art -- every room, every wall sang with color and personality. An explosively purple dining room dripping with gaudy bronze accents. A full wall of bookshelves in the living room overflowing with books, music, knick-knacks, statues, boxes and photos. Every conceivable style of furniture, as if he was a collector looking for one of everything.

Nothing matched, nothing was subtle. He'd never be able to get away with staging a house like this.

"Well, it's," Vince started. "It's quite --"

"I'll translate," Olive interrupted. "It's magnificent. You've outdone yourself. That's what Vince is trying to say."

"Actually, I was trying to figure out which historical period you'd feel most at home in," Vince defended.

"Leave it to the history prof to legitimize Ace's inability to settle on a style," Erik grinned.

Ace smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "You could have stopped me at any point during any of these projects."

"Right. You were stoppable. This is what I tell everyone about you."

"It's nothing like your place in Atlanta," Olive said. "And can you imagine if you'd painted the Baltimore brownstone that shade of purple? That foul-smelling landlord would have chased you out of town."

"I've clearly been saving all my colors for this house."

They all settled in the living room after the tour with their drinks.

"Don't you have a cat around here?" Olive asked.

"Lola makes no promises about future appearances," Erik intoned, as if he was reciting an old line.

"It is the porch kitty credo," Ace confirmed.

"Oh piff," Olive dismissed. "You put out the right bait and have some patience, and she'll never go anywhere else."

"I think there might be different rules for cats of indeterminate gender," Ace said.

"Okay, enough warm-up," Olive abruptly changed the subject. "What's the update on your love life?"

Ace grinned. She was determined to see Ace paired off with a nice young man so help her God.

"What love life?" he sighed dramatically.

Erik fixed him with a shrewd look. "But your house is clean. Too clean. Something must have happened."

"Are you suggesting that I only clean after I've gotten laid?" Ace hedged.

"I'm saying you only pay attention to the state of your crown molding when you're trying to ignore something."

"So there's something to ignore?" Olive asked eagerly. She might be a strident feminist English professor with hippie tendencies, but she liked to hear about hot gay sex just like the next girl.

"Fine," Ace caved. "Went to Sparks."

"The itch again?" Erik asked.

It's good to have a friend who understands. "Yup."

"Scratched successfully?"

"Yup."

"Just yup?" Olive frowned. "No, 'oh hell yeah'?"

"It was hell yeah for a little while," Ace admitted. For as long as he was touching me and moving inside me.

"And the guy. Hot?"

"Scorching."

"Skilled?"

"Exceptionally," Ace said.

Erik squinted at him. "You're being unusually elusive. Spill."

Ace sighed. "He lost points on the dismount."

Vince cringed quietly. Ace caught it.

"Too much? I'm trying to keep things coded in deference to your delicate heterosexual sensibilities," Ace said.

Olive looked at Vince with a face full of question.

"It was the word mount," Vince finally said. "Brought up ... images."

Olive patted his knee. "Poor boy. Suck it up."

"Ix-nay on the uck-say," Ace whispered loudly.

"So," Olive persisted. "Bad dismount?"

Ace nodded. "Escaped before I could catch my breath. Didn't even get a last name."

"Did you want a last name from this one?" Erik asked.

Fuck yes. "I wanted to bring him all the way home," he admitted. "The back room was his idea."

Olive made a face. "That sucks."

There was a pause, then both Erik and Ace said, "Literally."

Vince winced again.

"Well, it was Sparks," Ace shrugged. "It was all about the itch, not wedding bells or anything." Even if the itch still persisted.

"Want us to set you up with someone?" Olive rubbed her hands together excitedly.

"I am aware of one or two young men in my upper-level classes who lean your way," Vince said carefully.

"Oh come on," Ace protested. "Any college student is at least a decade younger than me. What in the world would we have in common?"

"You're both gay?" Vince offered.

Ace slapped his hand over his eyes dramatically. "Don't quit your day job, yenta."

"No, not that!" Vince tried to backtrack. "I just mean he's someone you don't have to wonder about. Isn't that usually an issue? The wondering?"

"No, we usually can tell. It's the secret gay code," Ace said solemnly.

Vince furrowed his brow. "There's a code? Really?"

"We keep it under wraps," Erik said. "We all have those special sunglasses like in that movie Them. You know, the ones that let you see aliens?"

"I see gay people," Ace said in an exaggerated whisper.

Vince tried to hide an embarrassed smile with a scowl.

"Oh honey," Olive laughed, "I just love how you try."

"It cracks me up that this man who squirms at the word 'dismount' is trying to fix me up on a gay date," Ace said.

"I'm just trying to help," Vince said. Olive patted Vince's knee reassuringly, and Ace knew Olive had probably pushed Vince into this matchmaking business.

Having not been around this couple for many weeks, Ace had forgotten how sickeningly happy they were with each other. People who are happily married could be incredibly annoying.

Damn, I want that.

"I do appreciate the help, guys, but I'm going to give it a go on my own for now," Ace said. "You could always work your magic on Erik."

Erik immediately flushed bright red. "Oh, thanks for that," he muttered.

Olive sighed. "Yeah, tried that already." She looked at Erik, then Ace, then shook her head. She glanced at her watch and gathered her purse. "We'd better get going."

"Off to another exciting evening of questioning the historical validity of Shakespeare's folios," Vince drawled.

"You do like to provoke her colleagues," Erik said.

"As the man himself said," Olive sighed, "the course of true love-"

"Wait, I know this one," Ace interrupted. "Something about kissing a lot of frogs?"

"Something like that." Olive smiled and kissed Ace's cheek. "Bye, sweetie."

When the older couple had left, Erik turned to Ace with a serious look. "Ace, don't hate me for this."

"For what? Are you gonna try to set me up, too? Because one time with that little frat rat from your office was quite enough."

"No, no," Erik said quickly. "Definitely never going to set you up with anyone else." He took a deep, fortifying breath. "You've got to stop fucking Cameron in bars. He is hamstringing your love life."

Ace pulled back sharply. "He wasn't-" he started, "he didn't even look like-"

"My friend, every guy in that place is Cameron. Even Tanner was Cameron."

"How the hell would you know?" Ace bristled. "You haven't set foot in Kansas City since the end of you and Richard."

"Ace, for almost a year, I've come over here every Sunday. I do three things: I help fix your house, I help you bitch about Cameron, and I have to hear about your monthly itches."

"So this makes you an expert on me now?"

"I remember everything you've told me about Cameron. About how he tore you up inside. You really want more of that?"

Ace grimaced. "Well of course I'm not going to tell you about any of the good stuff. The parts that only I got to see were just about perfect."

But after every perfect Sunday there was always a Monday morning to face, when Cameron would transform into the Good Straight Southern Boy. And the holidays Ace spent alone because there was no way in hell Cameron was going to bring him over to his parents' house. And the times -- more than once, more than a handful -- when they would spot each other downtown around lunchtime and Cameron completely ignored him to save face.

"I have a theory." Erik's voice startled him out of his brief reverie. "I think you've got a magnet in your dick that pulls you to the wrong guys."

Ace rolled his eyes. "I didn't know a marketing degree made you an expert in the psychology of bar pickups."

Erik slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I do know something about successful strategies, and yours clearly isn't working. Every week you moan about how you just want a nice guy you can be yourself with, and then what do you do? Another quick fuck from Sparks or Grindr."

Well, hell, when he put it like that.

"You deserve someone you can hold hands with in public," Erik said. "Someone who loves you and is proud to say it out loud in front of other people."

Ace heard what Erik wasn't saying: There is a nice guy sitting in front of you, are you blind?

He wasn't blind. He could see that Erik would be open to more than friendship, even though Erik had never officially broached the subject. But Ace had deliberately not encouraged anything more.

It wasn't that Erik wasn't attractive. He was really pretty cute -- naturally wavy red hair and the accompanying freckles, a big sweet smile, sparkling eyes. He was a little shorter than Ace, and he had a very nice body, compact and trim. Having worked alongside Erik for months, Ace knew his friend was strong and smart and funny and kind -- a truly great catch.

But he didn't make Ace's heart race. Not like Paul. Not like Friday night. Ace looked at Erik and saw a good friend, someone who was incredibly important to him.

When Ace looked at Paul, all he could think was: gimme.

It would be so much easier if only Erik did that same thing for Ace. As it was, dating Erik wouldn't be fair to either of them. And Ace would risk losing his one true best friend when things inevitably went sour. Not worth that risk.

Ace knew exactly how lucky he was to find a single guy friend his age in a new town, especially considering he worked from home. Making friends in your single thirties is so much harder than in college. With all of Ace's college friends married off and scattered to the four winds, life could be pretty damn lonely. Hence Sparks. And hence Erik.

Erik's friendship, more than any house project, helped keep Ace sane this last year. This friendship was sacrosanct.

"So," Ace said with a grin, hoping to change the course of the rest of this conversation, "what you're saying is that you don't want to hear about how hot the guy was at Sparks?"

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. "Well, of course I want to hear about super hot men. Just ignore the shade of green I'll be turning."

"Oh, there's a hot guy out there for you," Ace said brightly. "You just need to put yourself in places to find him. Places other than your office and my house."

"Yeah," Erik said softly. "The only viable option in my office is Tanner."

"Christ, what a mistake that was," Ace groaned. "I shouldn't have hired him to do my Web site. It keeps giving him reasons to see me."

"More accurately, you probably shouldn't have let him blow you after you hired him to do the site," Erik reasoned. "He's a good choice for your Web site. Bad choice for your dick."

Ace huffed. "Just for that, I'm going to tell you about Mr. Hot in great detail. I think green suits your ginger Irish coloring."

"I'm going to need a lot of beer for this," Erik grumbled. He pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

Ace leaned back in his chair and stretched deeply. He knew that Erik was right about Cameron -- and probably about that magnet in his dick. He'd been avoiding thinking about stuff like this for the better part of a year now.

Everything was finally starting to feel settled in his life -- his home, his new town, his work. Nothing pressing, nothing to press against.

Just one nasty little itch. And a lingering memory of a delicious moment.

That would have to do for now.

Chapter 4

On Wednesday, Ace pulled up to his latest referral from the ever-helpful realtor David and opened the thin file the realtor had provided.

Steven McDonnell, his first home. Engaged to be married, hence the move.

Single straight guy. This ought to be interesting, design-wise, anyway.

Obviously David thought there was a need for Ace to step in. Which could mean either a design nightmare awaited him, or else this Steven was a very motivated seller.

He prayed for the latter.

In his experience, men - particularly straight men - didn't always respond well to another man telling them how to decorate, especially if it involved admitting they were wrong about, say, a paint color or a monstrous entertainment center. Even though a well-staged house tended to sell four to six months faster, any criticism was often met with affront.

Ace didn't really care what a homeowner's taste was. Didn't care how cute their children's school photos were. Wasn't impressed by the complete collection of Boyds Bears in glass curios. He cared about making a house sellable.

The house in question today was a wide ranch-style home in a typical south Kansas City suburb. White aluminum siding, two-car garage, new driveway, big yard and overly ambitious vines climbing the wrought iron railings.

Nothing terribly wrong with it. But nothing terribly right, either. Houses today needed to seduce buyers, and acting indifferent wasn't going to cut it.

The first thing Ace wanted to fix was the jungle of foliage in the front yard. Somebody must have thought the clematis vines and tall prairie grass and explosion of black eyed susans gave the house character. With a dedicated gardener in residence, it might have, but these plants had clearly gone to seed without much interference.

This is going to take more than a new slipcover, he thought.

Ace grabbed a notebook and his digital camera before he left the truck, knowing he needed some before and after photos for the Web site. He almost always forgot to snap the before pictures, as Tanner kept chiding him. He was determined to remember this time. He couldn't always rely on David's referrals for his entire livelihood, after all.

The door opened and a tall, trim man with light brown hair and startling blue eyes appeared. Ace blinked, thinking he looked vaguely familiar, though he knew they had never met. Something about those eyes...

"Steven McDonnell?"

Steven frowned. "Yes?"

"I'm Ace Hoffman. David sent me over to stage your house?" He offered his hand to shake, puzzled by the other man's demeanor.

Steven shook his hand briefly. "Ace. I thought David said you'd be an Allison. Or something like that."

"He probably gave you my full name. It's Acelin. Easy mistake to make."

"So, Acelin is a man's name?" Steven sounded skeptical.

"Really old German," Ace said. "I'm the only Acelin anybody knows."

"I thought it was a girl's name," Steven persisted.

"Nope." Ace shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Isn't this more of a woman's thing?" Steven said. "Decorating and swatches and stuff?"

Ah, a traditionalist. Lovely. "Statistically, I'm sure most home stagers are women, but it's not a job requirement," he said cheerfully. "Men are allowed to do this, too."

"Well, at the very least, you should be gay," Steven said with an embarrassed huff.

A pause followed. Ace briefly debated laughing it off, being one of the guys.

But he was never one of those guys.

"Um, actually, I am," he said.

An even longer pause followed.

I wonder if I should tell him his realtor is gay, too?

"Well, OK," Steven finally said. "Good. This is probably better."

Ace quirked an eyebrow. "Better how?"

"I'd been worried about some chick making me put flowers everywhere or painting things mauve or something." He eyed Ace critically. "You don't look like the swishy kind, so I think I'm safe."

Ace bristled internally. Gay doesn't always mean swishy, you asshole. Gay means a lot of things.

He swallowed a sudden annoyance for this man and put on his professional voice.

"Safe as houses, as they say," he said brightly. "And just so you know, I don't usually add anything to someone's house. I try to work with what you have and sort of judiciously edit."

Steven nodded at him with a confused frown.

"How much did David tell you about what I do?" Ace said.

Steven blew out a breath. "Just that you'll make the house look better. Rearrange stuff."

Ace nodded. "That is definitely a part of it. My job is to make sure that people can see themselves living in your house."

"So, it doesn't involve flowers?" Steven asked, eyes narrowed.

"I get the sense that flowers are quite the issue with you," Ace said slowly. "So, I'll definitely avoid all things floral. Or mauve."

Poor little heterosexuals. So scared of girl things. Hell, probably scared of the girls themselves, too.

They were still standing on Steven's front step, and Ace was eager to get to work.




Run and Hide Pt. 01



"Well," Ace said after a pause, "looks like your front door is good to go. No flowers here on the steps, and I promise I won't suggest any. How about the rest of the house?"

Steven shook into action. "Right. Yes. Forgot we were still outside. Come on in."

Ace stepped in to a pretty standard 1950s ranch house. He took in what he had to work with: blank cream colored walls, little to no artwork, nice hardwood floors, probably original to the house. Dark leather furniture, a well-used recliner and the biggest flat-screen TV Ace had ever seen inside a house this size.

Oh, he's not going to like what I want him to do with that TV.

It was every bit a bachelor pad, but not in the swinging lady trap kind of way. More in the "I have no idea what to do with this place so I'll leave it blank until I get married" kind of way.

Across from the TV, Ace was a little startled to find one wall painted deep burgundy. It was a lovely color, but so entirely out of place with the almost colorless palate of the rest of the house. Doesn't seem like something this guy would do, he thought.

"That was Holly's idea. My fiancé," Steven said, reading Ace's expression. "She thought the place needed color."

So she spent all her color in one place.

"She wanted to be here, but it's the end of the school year, so she's stuck at work," Steven continued. "So I asked my brother to be backup instead."

"To protect him from pink flowers." A deep, rumbling, familiar voice sounded behind Ace.

His heart stopped and his cock twitched in the same instant. He'd know that voice anywhere. It had haunted his restless dreams for days as Ace replayed every dirty word he'd rasped into Ace's ear as he'd pounded hard behind him.

Ace slowly turned around, swallowing thickly to clear his throat.

"This is my brother, Paul McDonnell," Steven said.

A pair of cool grey-blue eyes studied him, and Ace felt the bottom of the floor drop out.

Ho. Ly. Shit.



Run and Hide Pt. 02



Ho. Ly. Shit.

It was Paul's hot birthday fuck. In his brother's living room. On a Wednesday afternoon. 

Thoughts waged war for supremacy in Paul's head: Wasn't the home stager going to be a woman? Christ, his ass looks good in those pants. Don't, for the love of God, get an erection right now. Calm, be calm.

Paul wondered if Ace even remembered him. Hell, most of the time they were together, Ace was bent over, facing the wall. Maybe he forgot Paul as soon as he was gone.

Paul watched the color rise in Ace's cheeks, and his fingers twitched to feel the heat there. 

Oh yeah. He remembers. They both did.

Then Ace's mouth dropped open enticingly, and Paul's thoughts took a much naughtier turn.

Those lips. Those soft, juicy lips. How they looked wrapped around his ...

He shifted his stance, trying madly to calm his rebellious dick.

This. This right here. This is why there are rules. 

"Turns out Acelin is a guy's name," Steven said.

Paul flashed cold for a second, worried that Ace would let on that they'd met already. He was so not ready to tell Steven how that happened.

"Nice to meet you, Ace," Paul said, polite and cool. He offered his hand to shake.

Ace started for just a moment, then took the hand to shake.

Shaking a man's hand shouldn't affect his whole body like that. Paul shouldn't feel the warmth spread so deliciously along his nerve endings. He shouldn't long to let his fingers run along the rest of that tempting skin.

"Likewise," Ace replied, suddenly hoarse. He roughly cleared his throat and turned to Steven. "So, how about you show me the rest of the house, and then I can get started."

Paul trailed behind, his attention split between watching Ace take notes about the rooms and watching the sinful way Ace's ass moved inside those pants.

"Do you mind if I take some before photos?" Ace asked Steven.

"Oh damn," Steven groaned. "It's that bad? My house is a before picture?"

Ace laughed, and the sound spread warmly through Paul's body. He liked how that felt - and what it did to Ace's already beautiful face and deep blue eyes.

"Nothing like that, really," Ace said. "I'm trying to get more content for my Web site, and before and after photos are the best way to show what I can do for a house. Yours is far, far from my biggest challenge, believe me."

Steven narrowed his eyes slightly. "But it's not the easiest one, either, is it?"

Ace took a deep breath. "No. But it's not because you've done anything wrong. It's just a little ... blank. Usually, I have to remove personal photos left and right and cull down the mess on the walls. But you ... well, that's not an issue here."

"So what do you do about that?" Paul asked. He wasn't exactly sure what his job as backup entailed anymore, now that he wasn't on flower blockage patrol. But despite himself, he wanted an excuse to talk to Ace. 

"First, I think we'll attack the low-hanging fruit," Ace said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Let's move some furniture around."

"Might as well, since my muscle is here and everything." Steven slugged his brother lightly on the arm. 

Ace pursed his lips quickly, as if to stop himself from saying something. 

"Then let's go to the bedroom," Ace said.

Oh let's. Paul shook his head. Cut it out, McDonnell.

The room Steven used as the master bedroom was smallish, like all the rooms in this older house, and Steven's king-size bed took up most of the space. He'd placed it so that you would fall into it after taking two steps into the room.

"I'm guessing this is where you put the bed the first day you were in the house, right?" Ace said.

"More than likely," Steven said.

"Once you finally get your stuff into a new place, you're usually too tired to even think about moving it later, and that's especially true of bedroom furniture."

"I think I put the bed here because of the phone jack," Steven said.

"Makes sense," Ace said. "But it's sort of blocked your entry into the room. I know you have made this work for you, but people are going to walk in here and think they will never fit everything they need."

"But all my stuff does fit," Steven said.

"We can make it fit better," Ace said. "You want the layout to welcome people into the bedroom, make them want to explore further."

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Paul was taking everything Ace said in a much more interesting way. Like, I would definitely welcome you into the bedroom. Or, you already know everything important fits.

Paul shook his head to clear it and realized that both Ace and Steven were looking at him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I miss something?"

"Could you grab that bedside table and move it into the hallway?" Ace repeated.

Paul grunted softly and went to work, grateful for the physical distraction. With a few adjustments and new positions for Steven's furniture, the bedroom was quickly transformed. The entry was unobstructed, the furniture was tucked into new homes, and the room surprisingly looked bigger.

Paul found it kind of remarkable. He never paid that much attention to his own home or where he put stuff - as long as it was functional and clean, he didn't really care much. But Ace was able to see exactly where things should go, and it made a huge difference. It seemed obvious in retrospect that everything should have been like this to begin with, but only Ace had been able to see that.

This man was impressing him more and more. This was not a good thing. 

This never happened to him before. All the men he'd fucked had been one-night only affairs, and usually well out of town. 

And the thing was, he liked it that way. For Paul, every encounter was fired with that thrill of a first time, the uncertainty and the novelty, the rush of a new touch. By definition, a second time wouldn't have any of that. He already knew what Ace's body felt like, what his own cock felt like inside that unbelievable ass. 

So why was he craving another ride?

He didn't have much time to reflect on that as Ace moved from room to room, directing new placement for the furniture and giving Steven a running list of things to do, what to pack, what to store in the basement for the time being, what he might consider buying to help the showing.

Paul could tell that Steven was pleased with how the staging was coming. Ace was good about giving solid reasons for everything he was doing. Logic worked well on his younger brother, the telecommunications executive.

Ace even managed to scrounge up a couple pieces of art that Steven must have had left over from his college days.

"I can make this work," Ace murmured, almost to himself. "Do you mind if I use this frame for a different print?"

"Man, anything you want," Steven said. "I totally trust your judgment."

"Steven, he'll probably need a hammer and a picture hanger if that's going on the wall," Paul said. "Right?" he asked Ace.

Ace looked a little startled every time Paul spoke, which wasn't that often. 

"Uh, yeah, that'd be great," he said. Steven went in search of the tools.

Ace turned back to the table with the artwork and bent over to transfer the newfound print to a better frame. Leaning against the door frame, Paul enjoyed the view under the pretense of watching him work.

Paul rifled his brain for something to say in those stolen moments alone. But his fear sensors overruled his other senses. Again.

"I'm trying to find a good looking girl for my big brother to bring as a date to the wedding," Steven said to Ace, returning quickly with the hardware. "Maybe you know some single realtors? I'm not above playing matchmaker."

That snapped Paul right out of his thoughts. 

Ace glanced at Paul to see how he took that. Paul schooled his expression to detached amusement at his brother. He viciously stamped down any other emotions - longing, interest, conflict - and parked his face in neutral.

He caught a flash of disappointment in Ace's eyes before they, too, put on a mask.

"Nope," Ace said cheerfully. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone he could take."

Mmmm, I could take you, Paul thought. All kinds of ways I could take you.

But not to the wedding. That cooled his thickening ardor quickly. He couldn't take Ace to the wedding - or anywhere, for Christ's sake. Not that he wanted to, right? Rules. There are rules for a reason. 

"Aw, come on," Steven said. "There's got to be somebody. It's not like he's a bad catch or anything. He's good looking! He's a doctor! It shouldn't be so damn hard for him to find a girl."

Ace laughed, a little unevenly. "I might not be the best man to advise on how to find a girl."

Steven grimaced goofily. "Point. But don't you gay guys have all these women friends? All the women I know are dying to have a gay friend."

Paul was getting mightily uncomfortable with the way the conversation had twisted. But he was relieved to note how easy it was for his brother to accept Ace's sexuality, even joking about it. That was a good sign. Or might be.

"Well, I am unique in many exciting ways," Ace said lightly. "I only have the one fag hag, and she's married."

Paul's heart was beating a little too fast as his fight-or-flight instinct kicked in with the word 'fag.' Time to get out of this.

"So," Paul said, moving from his perch in the doorway. "Any more furniture for me to move, or are we going to talk about girls the rest of the day?"

"You in a hurry, bro?" Steven laughed. "Big date with your big TV?"

Paul gave him a stop-fucking-with-me look.

"No, he's right," Ace said. He hung the reframed print in the foyer and instantly altered the look of that space.

Then they headed outside, where Ace diagnosed several issues with the landscaping. It sounded like Steven had a lot of work ahead of him. No doubt he'd enlist Paul's help.

"Before I leave, I want you to think about something," Ace said carefully to Steven.

Steven groaned. "It's the TV, isn't it? You want me to lose the TV. I knew it."

"No, not lose it," Ace assured him. "Maybe find a new place for it in your home, though."

Steven narrowed his eyes. "But this is where I watch TV. This is where I spend all my time in the house. I don't want to completely mess up my everyday life just to sell this damn place."

"I understand, really," Ace said. "But here's what every realtor will tell you: Women buy houses. Men buy garages and basements. A woman will come into this house and see that huge TV and dismiss this as a bachelor pad."

"But won't the guy she's with be impressed? Won't it make him want to live here?" Steven asked.

"You can't assume she'll have a guy with her," Ace said.

"Yeah, they're letting single girls buy houses all by themselves this century," Paul teased his brother.

Steven rolled his eyes at Paul. "So, where do you want me to stash it?" he sighed. "The garage?"

"This is just a suggestion, but think about making the basement into a kind of man cave," Ace said. "I know you don't need one, considering your whole house is your cave. But it will definitely help women see themselves in the living room, and every married man will drool over the idea of using the basement as his own space like that."

It was a good idea, Paul realized. Once again, he was impressed with how well Ace could not only transform the space but also use logic to get Steven to agree to things. 

Paul could tell Steven was starting to buy the idea, though the idea of hiding his TV probably still chafed. 

"And it could be good practice for you," Ace offered. "In case your fiancé doesn't want the TV in your new living room, too. You seem like the kind of guy who needs a man cave."

Of course, the words "man cave" made Paul think very different thoughts, especially when spoken by the object of his recent lust. 

"Building a man cave sounds like more work than just moving a couch around," Steven said. "I'm definitely going to need reinforcements."

"I can send you the links to some Web sites that can help you out," Ace said.

Steven nodded, his face telegraphing his deep thoughts. "Look, you've done such amazing things here, and I really trust you and your judgment. Do you think you could help me out again with the rest of this list?"

Ace looked torn. "Usually, my job is just to rearrange and point you in the right direction," he said. "I don't think David was intending me to do much beyond that."

"I can call him, make sure you get paid more," Steven said. "He told me your fee was being added to all my closing costs and stuff. I don't mind tacking on more to that."

Ace chewed on his lower lip briefly, and the vision jolted Paul again. Could he handle another day around this man without jumping him the second they were alone? 

"I can probably come over Saturday morning, for a little while at least," Ace said finally. "I'll have to drive in from Lawrence, so let's say around nine?"

Lawrence. He lived in Paul's town. Once again, ho-ly shit.

This was getting way too close to home, literally. Now his hot birthday fuck was stationed in his own zip code. He didn't know whether to agree with his happy cock about that or his worried brain. 

Steven sighed happily. "You're the best, man," he said. "I'll ask Holly to come over too with more art and stuff."

"That would be great, actually," Ace said. "It would help to have more to work with."

"And Paul, you'll help out again, right?" Steven said, his voice rising in pitch along with his hope.

Now it was Paul's turn to hedge. "I don't know, bro," he said. "I sometimes have Saturday appointments."

"Can you reschedule? I could really use more muscle on this," Steven pleaded.

Paul clenched his jaw against the conflict roaring within him. The big brother knew that of course he should help Steven. But the man who was terrified of his own desires wanted to run away from the temptation that had been dropped back into his lap. 

He glanced over to Ace, who was watching him with guarded eyes. The more he looked at Ace, the more he wanted him, and that was simply unacceptable. 

"I'll see what I can do," he told Steven.

He told himself: Run. Don't look back.

It was the looking back that would kill him.



Chapter 5

By Friday, Ace had talked himself in and out of canceling on Steven at least seven times. 

Seriously, what was he thinking? He had no obligation to do anything more to Steven's house. He knew a dozen handymen Steven could hire. He'd already provided plenty of guidance. Right?

But... Always a but. He'd be an idiot to turn down extra money - and a pleased client. And the front yard did need a lot more attention than just a helpful to-do list. And he could get even better after photos for the Web site. And...

Paul.

Ace thought he was going to swallow his own tongue when he'd turned around and fallen into those grey-blue eyes again. Bad enough that the man had echoed in his fevered dreams since that first explosive encounter. There in front of Steven's burgundy wall, he had to keep himself from peeling off the man's shirt and licking his nipples. 

Then Paul introduced himself as if they'd never met, and Ace's heart had sunk into his shoes. 

He shouldn't let it bother him. This is one of the emotional risks of fucking someone without knowing his last name or anything about him. Not everyone was out and unafraid of it. 

But why is it that I seemed doomed to find men who don't know how to be themselves?

The trouble was, now that he knew a little more about Paul and had spent that afternoon around him, he wanted more of him, not less. Even with that closet door between them. 

He'd caved and googled Paul, now that he had a last name to work with, and found his chiropractic office's Web site, featuring a photo of a confident, strong man gazing directly into the camera. 

He returned to that photo every time he thought about canceling. He wasn't sure if it served as a reason to cancel or a reason to show up on Saturday. 

Currently, he was set firmly on maybe.

Ace didn't have any client meetings scheduled on Friday afternoon, which worked out well because Head Web Monkey Tanner Caldwell was coming over this afternoon to help get the site launched, finally. 

For months he'd been relying on word of mouth and referrals to make a living, and it was long past time he had a presence online.

Tanner had been fiddling with the site for a few weeks now, building forms and slideshows and getting everything ready for a proper launch. The last step was one more proofing session.

Until Tanner arrived, though, Ace was once again at loose ends, which gave him too much time to either waste or think about Paul.

One urge was definitely stronger than the other.

Ace was grateful that his job involved going out to meet clients and work with them in their homes. Because whenever he hit a slow patch and he was essentially stuck in his home with nothing pressing on him, it was a disconcerting experience. Instead of relying on a boss to crack the whip, he had to motivate himself to not give in to the temptations of being unsupervised. Like reading blogs for four hours. Or giving in to the temptation of porn.

The realtors he worked with were often the only people he ever dealt with more than once. His job was essentially a series of one-night stands. Swoop in to an ill-planned room, edit out the unnecessary bits, make it pretty and swoop out again. It was always invigorating working with his clients - and always nice when they heaped praise on his work - but he never got the chance to really develop any relationships. 

For someone who worked with other people as part of his job, he was pretty lonely.

Before Tanner arrived, Ace made sure to tuck away that photo of Paul, as well as clear his browser history. Tanner might be gay, but there was no reason he needed to know about the dirty sites Ace liked to visit in his bored hours.

Plus, he didn't want the kid to think he was encouraging something more. 

Tanner defied nearly all the stereotypes of computer science majors. Instead of a skinny, pale geek, his body was perfectly built, in a way that could only come from dedicated weightlifting. His light brown hair was always styled in an artfully casual way, and to top it off, he had the face of a little boy who knew he could charm his way out of anything. He looked more like a party-happy frat guy than someone who could work in the IT department. 

Ace would be kidding himself if said he wasn't tempted.

A couple of months ago, Ace had found himself at Sparks once again at the end of a long week, but this time he had spotted a familiar face – his new Web designer.

Erik had pointed Ace to Tanner in the first place when Ace needed a tech guy to help him create his new business's site. Not a week after their initial client meeting, there was Tanner in the place Ace came to scratch his itch.

Tanner had wheedled a ride home out of him at the end of the fruitless night. And there, in his truck parked by Tanner's apartment, Ace had let the hot jock give him a blowjob. 

The stuff of legendary romance it was not.

Ever since then, Tanner had made it clear that he was ready for round two.

Ace had been less than clear.

When he arrived, Tanner greeted Ace with that grin and a full-body once-over glance. 

"Hey, Acelin." Tanner always mispronounced his name.

Ace rolled his eyes. "Really, just Ace. Nobody calls me by my full name." And it's pronounced Ahs-lin. As I've told you before. 

"It's a cool name, is all," he said with a shrug. "Really unique. Kind of like mine. I don't know any other Tanners, and I definitely don't know any other Acelins."

"True," Ace acknowledged. He cleared his throat and turned to lead Tanner to the office. "What have you got for me?"




Run and Hide Pt. 02



"Oh, plenty," Tanner smirked.

It was odd having another person in his office. It had been a while since he'd shared an office space with anyone else, let alone shared that space in his own home. He was constantly aware of Tanner's presence; it affected the air around him, and not in a completely comfortable way. 

Ace sat in the chair he kept for his rare office guests and watched Tanner do some incomprehensible things at lightning speed on his laptop. 

The site was really coming together well. Erik hadn't steered him wrong by pointing him in Tanner's direction for this. Ace found a couple of typos and some alignment issues that Tanner set about fixing.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Tanner said, his eyes rapidly scanning the code on the screen. "You're not from the area, you didn't go to KU. What the hell brought you to Lawrence at all?"

Ace chuckled. "You say that like it's a small town you're ready to leave behind."

"Well, sorta," Tanner said. "I mean, it's a cool place and a great school, but I can't wait to get to a bigger city. Like you did. Why did you ever leave Atlanta?"

Because I couldn't bear to be in Cameron's zip code any more. Because I'm a coward. Because I'm not like you, kid.

"It was Olive and Vince's fault, actually," Ace said, completely skirting the memories that still weighed down his heart.

"You mean Dr. Boyer?" Tanner asked a little distractedly. "I had him for American History. Gave me an A. Really dry sense of humor."

And that sums him up, I guess. All the important bits, anyway.

"I met them when I was living in Baltimore. We were kind of each other's family for a while there." Ace smiled, thinking back to that drafty, creaky brownstone near the university where they had all lived. God, that was a decade ago. Tanner must have been in middle school. "I visited them once they moved to Lawrence, and I just kinda fell for the place." 

"I just can't imagine settling for this place," Tanner said in a carelessly dismissive way. "Just one more semester 'til graduation, and I am outta here."

Yet another reason Ace shouldn't bother with him. Why get even a little close to someone - even if only for physical comfort - just to have to let him go soon?

It would be different if he were Tanner's age, but Ace was thirty-three, firmly rooted in this funky town in a funky old house and a not-so-funky mortgage. There were times he envied the clueless twenty-two-year-olds out there. 

"Anywhere in particular?" Ace asked.

"Wherever the money is," Tanner said firmly. "I figure a comp sci degree and a business minor will be a good combination for a high-paying job."

Ace frowned. That was probably a fair assessment of his prospects. But it was a little disconcerting to know that all his passion was for making a buck, not for the work itself. 

"You could use some more content on the results page," Tanner said, changing the subject and pulling Ace's attention back to the screen. "Like testimonials or something. Do you have any e-mails from clients where they talked about how awesome you are? Or can you ask some people to tell you how awesome you are?"

Ace smiled. "I'll check my files. I'm sure I can find something." 

"It's not critical for the launch or anything," Tanner said. "But you don't want to leave it empty very long or you'll look all unfinished." 

"Got it. Anything else I need to do?"

"Nope. How about we make this sucker live?"

Ace breathed deeply and nodded with a smile. So satisfying to cross a big item off the to-do list. 

A few more clicks, and Tanner pulled up the new site online for him to see.

"Thanks so much, Tanner," Ace said. "This is just what I needed."

"I'm glad to help," he replied. "Um, also glad to get paid."

"Right! Sorry, yes, let me get my checkbook."

He wrote out the check as Tanner gathered up his files and laptop.

"I've got just enough time to hit the gym before my last class," Tanner said. "I was worried that I wouldn't make it today. I hate missing a day."

"You don't look like you miss many days," Ace said with a small smile.

Tanner looked at him with a knowing eye.

"Now that you mention it, and I hope you don't mind my saying this, Ace," Tanner said. "I know you've got a good body, but you could do more." He lightly ran his hand down Ace's flank, and Ace quickly moved out of reach. Tanner sounded like a house appraiser, his eyes casting about for potential flaws. Ace fought the urge to suck in his stomach. He wasn't obsessive about working out, but he made sure to get some exercise every day, usually a run. 

Clearly, that wasn't enough for the young man who was eyeing him up and down. Tanner had a tight, compact body that screamed of hours spent at the gym. He was pure eye candy. 

God knows Ace liked hard candy. Every once in a while.

Tanner was, what, twenty-two? A senior in college. Sculpted and all planned out. He made Ace feel old, especially in this moment of being evaluated.

"I hate to break it to you, kid, but thirty-three is not twenty-two," Ace said. "I'm doing pretty good for an old guy."

Tanner licked his lips. "You're not that old. I could help you put some more definition in your abs," he said, stepping closer. 

"You could come to my gym this Saturday," he continued. "I'm usually there for a few hours in the morning. Plenty of time to really do some work on you."

Ace swallowed down his growing annoyance at Tanner's attitude. "I've got a client meeting on Saturday," he said with a shrug and a smile. Congratulations, Steven: the 'maybe' setting just got moved to 'yes.'

"Another time, then, I hope," Tanner said. "I think there's a lot more we could do together."

Oh, just come out and say it, kid. The calculating junior businessman in front of him was probably trying to have his Ace and keep his business too. 

Tanner reminded him about getting some testimonials as he gathered his bag.

"Think some more about the gym," Tanner said, turning back to him at the door. "I'd be happy to show you some moves."

Temporary eye candy or a permanent closet case. Rock and a hard place. Ace shifted his stance at the thought of the hard place he craved and the rock in front of him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ace said with a faint smile. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it.

Tanner was a hottie, no doubt. And his body definitely pushed some buttons. 

Instead of giving in to the available, hot-for-him, built young man who had been standing in his living room, Ace couldn't get his mind off the closet case who pretended not to know him after fucking him until he nearly fainted. 

Figures.

Maybe Erik was right. Maybe the memory of Cameron was hamstringing his life. He didn't want Cameron back. That book was closed. But he was still drawn to a man who clearly was taking pages from Cameron's playbook. 

And now he was going to see him again on Saturday. 

Back to the hard place.

*****

I'm going to cancel.

Paul officially knew better. He shouldn't go to Steven's on Saturday, even if it meant pissing off his brother. Even if it made him a chicken.

Sometimes, retreat was the wisest option. Especially when you can't resist the enemy.

Of course, Ace wasn't the enemy. He was more like the spoils of war. 

If only he could figure out what he was fighting against.

Paul checked the appointment calendar on his computer. One more scheduled for this afternoon. Mrs. Donaldson, a sweet old lady who had been coming to see him consistently for a few years now. Reminded him of his mom, who was the whole reason he got into chiropractic in the first place. A nice way to end a Friday afternoon.

Friday. It had been a week since the Sparks Incident. Only a week? It felt much longer. Probably because he'd been thinking about it so much in the seven days since he'd first spotted Ace. 

And even more in the two days since their lives intersected again.

Maybe he could erase Ace from his mind in another back room? There were other places to go, after all. Ace wasn't the only beautiful man out there.

No! Rules!

And who was he kidding? At this point, he wouldn't be satisfied unless he had the real thing. And that thought was leading him down an even more dangerous road.

He wasn't going to go. Full stop. He just wanted Ace too much to be able to stop himself if it came down to it. His self-control was well maintained and able to withstand years of frustrating temptation. But one more day with Ace would be more than he could handle. 

Instead, he would spend Saturday working on Mr. Phipps's back and then distract himself with reorganizing his office. It could use a new arrangement, now that he looked around his small interior office. Like his own condo, it was a functional space, just not very interesting. He had a photo of himself with Steven on the desk, and a kill-proof plant up on one of the large bookshelves filled with medical texts. And that was the extent of his decorating touches.

But maybe a change in the furniture would do the trick. He could angle the desk to face the door, the way Steven's bed looked in the master bedroom. Ace could probably tell him what he could-

God. Damn. It. The man had completely infected his brain. 

He stepped out into the waiting area to stretch his legs and check with Nicole on any new messages. He half expected Steven to start calling to bug him about tomorrow.

Nicole Pratt was a good secretary, if a little chatty. Not that Paul blamed her. Because she often had only herself for company in the office, she filled her time talking to every friend and relative she had ever met. Or so it seemed to Paul.

She was a tiny little thing, at least a foot shorter than Paul with a happy mess of curly brown hair framing an equally happy face. Nicole was also - what was Steven's word? Avid. She clearly wanted to be more than a secretary for Paul. Fortunately, he could fall back on the boss-employee relationship clause, and not the real reason that would never happen. 

"Hey Nicole. How were the phones today?"

"Pretty quiet. You're booked but not too booked next week. Plenty of wiggle room for emergencies and, you know, long lunch breaks or something."

Nicole's favorite verbal qualifier was "or something." Once Steven had pointed it out to him, it was all Paul could hear in her conversations. 

"Sounds good. Listen, after Mrs. Donaldson shows up, you can probably take off for the weekend. Get an early start on it."

"Well, not really," she said. He frowned, not getting it. "I'll be in tomorrow when you are, for your morning appointment," she continued. "Remember?"

Right. His escape route. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text message. Steven, of course.

Yo. Coming tomorrow? 9am dont frgt

Now would be the time to tell him he couldn't make it. He really did have an appointment scheduled. He wouldn't even have to lie. I'm a doctor, after all. Steven will understand.

Bzzzz.

And no appt bullshit. 9am

Stupid mind-reading little brother.

Bzzzz.

Z. you gotta

Paul knew he gotta. When it came to Steven, he always gotta. He wished he could tell his brother why he shouldn't. He wished one other person in the world understood how hard this was for him. 

But Steven would freak. His parents would freak. Ace was the only other gay man he knew, and talking about his fears wasn't exactly tops on the list of things he wanted to do with that delicious blond beauty. 

"So," Nicole said, leaning deeply over the reception counter, throwing out the wrong kind of bait. "You have just that one appointment at 10:30 tomorrow. And I was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab some lunch afterwards or something?" 

Paul opened his mouth but didn't know how to tell her, uh, no. Not without potentially hurting her feelings. And he really didn't need things to get awkward at work once he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested.

Man, you can't settle anything, can you, McDonnell? You just leave her in limbo like everything else in your life.

While he considered his next words, his phone buzzed again.

Dont make me sic Holly on you

That made Paul smile - but he knew if Holly pushed him, he wouldn't be able to say no.

"We could do Free State Brewery?" Nicole continued, still hopeful. "They do a fun Science Beer thing on Saturdays, all about the chemistry of beer or something. Do you like beer?"

"Um, yeah, beer is good, but um-"

Saved by the buzz. This one was from Holly.

Darling, we need a big strong man tomorrow. U R the only 1 we know.

Paul chuckled. Then he considered: If Ace was serious about moving that giant TV to the basement, they really would need another pair of hands to shepherd it down the stairs. Maybe he could help with just that, then escape?

Bzzzz.

I can go 2 ways from here. Bribery or threats. U pick.

"Is that a new girlfriend who keeps texting you or something?" Nicole asked, her voice just a little tight. "She's awfully persistent."

She's not the only one, chick, he thought. 

So the choice was a fruitless, awkward lunch with his secretary or a sweaty, frustrating morning with Ace. 

Really not a choice.

"Nicole, could you call Mr. Phipps and reschedule his Saturday appointment?" He saw Nicole's hopeful expression fade from her face and felt a twinge of guilt for once again dodging her attentions. 

"Is that what all the texting was about?" she asked, typing loudly on her keyboard to pull up Mr. Phipps' phone number. "Got a big date tomorrow or something?"

No. Well, yes. Well, not really.

"Family emergency. Sort of. My presence has been firmly requested."

Nicole was somewhat mollified. "Hard to say no to family."

"You have no idea." He pulled out his phone and turned to go back into his office. "Let me know when Mrs. Donaldson arrives."

He pulled out his phone before Holly could devise more punishments for him.

I'll be there. Call off the dogs already.

As he shut the door, he heard Nicole pick up her previous phone conversation.

"Well, that was a bust," she sighed. "He's either just not interested in me or he's gay. Those are the only two options."

Paul's heart stopped. The last thing he needed was his gossipy secretary discussing his sexuality with everyone she knew. 

"No, I don't think he has a girlfriend. Or, you know, a boyfriend for that matter. I don't think he has anybody." She sighed dramatically. "But oh he could have me with just a word."

'I don't think he has anybody.' That cut sharply into Paul's gut. She isn't wrong, though, is she?

"That's a good idea, I'll try that next time," Nicole giggled into the phone.

Oh Lord, she's planning something. Probably a lower cut blouse or something else similarly ineffective. 

He was going to have to tell her, one way or another. 

But one way was definitely scarier than another. 

Paul might be running away from one issue, but the direction he was heading was so much more appealing. And it was starting to feel inevitable.



Chapter 6

When Ace arrived at Steven's on Saturday, Paul wasn't there. Ace didn't know whether to sigh - or sigh.

Ace hauled some cans of paint out of his truck bed, along with a box of well-used painting supplies. Steven had given him free reign to buy neutral, warm paint colors, which was a nice change from the overly obsessive clients in his portfolio.

"Hey Ace!" Steven caught up with him as he neared the open garage door. "Glad you could make it." He looked at Ace's bundle. "Got more of that?"

"It's all in the truck."

Steven headed toward the truck while Ace gratefully set down his heavy load and worked some feeling back into his fingers.

"So, I hear you're the one who objects to my choice of wall color."

Ace turned around to find the woman who had drawled those words, heavy with amusement.

Oh, this must be the fiancé. She was, in a word, pretty. Blonde hair that looked expertly dyed, long and flowing past her shoulders. Big hazel eyes full of laughter. And an easy smile that she was struggling to hide so she could look ticked about the burgundy.

Ace laughed. "Hand to God, I love it. I just worry about timid buyers."

She made a pouty face. "So we have to erase it?"

"Actually, I have a plan to just tone down its volume."

"Oh," she said, appeased. "Okay. You can stay."

Ace grinned. He instantly liked her.

"I'm Ace Hoffman," he said, shaking her small hand.

"Holly Shipley. And I really wouldn't have kicked you out, not after what you've already done for Steven's house."

"That good, huh?" Ace knew he had an eye for this work, but it was always nice to hear it from others.

"I didn't even recognize the bedroom," she insisted. "You're a magician."

"Not really," Ace demurred. "Just German. My mom says it's the German efficiency in me. Always wanting to find the most optional arrangement in a room, not wasting space. Then when I told her I was gay, she said this was the perfect job for me."

Ace smiled to himself, thinking of how quickly his sweet little mother came to terms with that bombshell. It took his dad a lot longer.

"I'm telling you now, as soon as Steven sells this place and moves all this stuff to my house, I'm hiring you to be my move-in day foreman," Holly said. "I want to get everything right from the start."

"I'll be happy to," Ace said. "I've never worked with anybody on day one like that."

"Well, after seeing this transformation here, I'm a little sorry he has to sell it."

"You know, that's happened before." Ace led them inside. "I've had a couple of clients who decided not to move after I staged their house. Pissed off the realtor something fierce."

"Well, David couldn't say enough good things about you," said Steven, who came in with the rest of the supplies.

"He's a good guy," Ace said. "And a successful realtor. You're in excellent hands."

"He's gay too, right?" Steven said. "I mean, I got that vibe."

"Steven!" Holly exclaimed, smacking his arm.

Ace grinned faintly. David was a little more ... exuberant. Nearly anybody's gaydar would have gone off.

"Does it bother you?" Ace asked carefully. At this point, he didn't think Steven was a homophobe, but you never knew.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," Steven said quickly. "I just thought, are you two, you know, seeing each other?"

"Steven!" Another smack from Holly.

"What?" Steven rubbed his arm, perplexed. 

"Not every gay man is boffing every other gay man, you dumbass!" she hissed at him.

Ace chuckled. "Well put. No, we're not dating. And, for the record, in case you were thinking of setting us up, he's not really my type."

"Oh?" Holly asked, taking Ace's arm confidentially. "What is your type?"

Your future brother, sweetie. Mr. Film Noir. Mr. Pretends He Hasn't Met Me.

"Oh, Lord," Steven moaned. "You've done it now. You've unleashed the matchmaker."

Ace decided it was time to change the subject. "Maybe after we finish this house, I'll tell you all about my perfect guy," he told Holly. "The way things are going, I could probably use a good yenta."

Holly clapped her hands in childlike glee. "Then let's get to work so we can be finished!"

"What's the plan, boss?" Steven said to Ace. "And Paul should be here soon, so don't leave him out of your assignments."

Ace fought to keep a flush at bay. So, not off the hook after all.

"He'd better come," Holly said darkly. "I warned him there would be an 'or else' in his future."

"Well, my plan is first to paint, starting in the new man cave. Then paint up here, and by then the basement will be dry and we can build a cave."

"Oh, and I've bought some throw pillows and artwork and stuff," Holly added.




Run and Hide Pt. 02



"Bless you, my dear," Ace said. "That will definitely help."

"We're still doing some work outside, yes?" Steven asked.

"Yep. I figure we can put your brother on that." Ace checked his to-do list. "Other than that, and some splashes of color, we should be good to go. This house doesn't need much more than makeup at this point."

Steven sighed and grinned. "Glad to hear that. That list you gave me had me a little worried."

"Well, it helps that you have good fixtures throughout," Ace said. "I especially like the flooring. Original?" 

"Yup," Steven said. "Most of the work I've done to this place involved getting rid of some pretty hideous wallpaper and carpeting."

"Yeah, aesthetically the fifties could be kind of spotty, but you can't question their workmanship," Ace said. "This house has a pretty simple construction and design, but it has really good bones."

"Oh, Steven's brother knows all about good bones," Holly said.

"Um, what?" Ace said, startled.

"He's a chiropractor," she said. "Bones are his thing."

"Right," Ace said, recovering. "Well, good. We're probably all going to need one after today."

"Need what?" Paul's deep voice once again snuck up on him. Apparently, yes, he was going to be here.

"Good bones," Holly said, cryptically.

Paul raised an eyebrow at Ace.

"I meant a chiropractor, Miss Shipley," Ace said, blushing. "A massage, that is. We're all going to be feeling this tonight."

Paul just kept looking at him with hunger, and Ace felt his blush deepen. Then it started to make him mad.

If Paul was going to eye fuck him like that, he could at least acknowledge having met him before. 

And why do I always, always, always go for the closet cases?

"Okay," Ace said brightly, to break the awkwardness he was starting to feel. "Now that the muscle is here, let's get that massive TV downstairs. Then we'll get you started outside," he said to Paul.

"Outside?" 

Yeah, somewhere that rumbling voice won't be the end of me.

"If you don't mind doing some of the grunt work on the yard?" Ace said. Mmmm, grunt work. Stop it, Hoffman!

Paul raised one dark eyebrow at him, and Ace just knew he was thinking of the same kind of grunt work. He needed to get some distance between them before his resolve evaporated. 

"Just tell me where to go and what to do," Paul said with a twinkling smile.

"You and Steven go unhook the TV and I'll be downstairs to show you where to put it."

He headed to the basement before Paul could see the inevitable blush over put it.

*****

Paul threw himself into clearing the overgrown foliage that choked the front of the house. It was better that he was outside. The short time he spent in Ace's proximity was dangerous enough. He preferred it out here. Alone. Sweating. Aceless.

Yeah. Better.

He hauled another unwieldy armful of vines and branches to the backyard, marveling at how Steven hadn't picked up their dad's obsessive yardwork tendencies. Sure, Steven would mow the lawn as often as the next guy, and he fertilized right on schedule. But in the four years he'd owned this house, he hadn't touched any plant life other than the grass.

Paul started a burn pile in the fire pit in the backyard, waiting for Ace to appear with more instructions.

Yeah. That's why you're waiting for Ace to appear, he told himself.

He knew he had been fooling himself when he decided it would be safe to help Steven today. Knew that as soon as he saw his blond dream man his willpower would vanish. 

Hell, it vanished as soon as he heard the words "good bones." He'd arrived at Steven's in time to eavesdrop on his brother's assumptions about Ace and this David realtor person, which did not amuse. And then he had to deal with the sudden images of giving Ace a massage, which ... also did not amuse. Did something else, though. 

When Paul returned to the front yard, he found Ace and Steven surveying his work.

"This is already better," Ace said, not looking at Paul. "Now we need to create some order out of what's left here by the house." He turned to the rest of the yard. "And those trees need some attention."

"Attention?" Paul said. "Is that code for chainsaw?"

Ace chuckled and flashed his eyes at Paul, almost shyly. "Do you have any experience operating that tool?"

A jolt immediately shot through Paul, but he forced the blood away from his face. Unfortunately, it had decided on a different destination.

"Um, on behalf of my limbs, I vote no on the chainsaw," Steven said.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Man, one little flesh wound and he gets all twitchy."

Ace raised an eyebrow in question.

"Long story," Paul said. "You have any brothers?"

"One sister. Older."

"Then you probably got through childhood with fewer scars," Steven said.

"I wouldn't say that," Ace said. "But if I'm anything to go by, I've found that little brothers tend to earn their scars."

Paul slugged Steven's arm. "See? He's on my side."

Ace smiled with a furrowed brow.

"All right, boss," Steven said, back to work. "What's next?"

Ace grabbed a pair of heavy duty cutters from his truck for the tree trimming. He directed the brothers through the pruning process, restoring a pleasant shape to the shrubberies that remained and culling down the explosion of flowers to a more manageable collection.

Once again, Paul was impressed with Ace's ability to see - and realize - the potential in what looked like a hopeless mess.

And it certainly didn't hurt that Ace spent a lot of time on his hands and knees to dig out plants. His ass looked just as inviting as the first time Paul had laid eyes - and hands - on it.

God, he wanted to be invited back there. Suddenly, rules were less RULES! and more rules?

With some clippers and ladders, the trees in the front yard soon stopped blocking as much of the view of the house, and the burn pile was big enough for a bonfire.

"We'll need to burn that to get it out of here," Steven decided, wiping sweat from his face. "Maybe do some s'mores."

"S'mores," Paul groaned. "I'm ready to die from complete muscle failure, and he's talking about marshmallows." Paul wasn't out of shape, not by a long shot, but this sort of bending and reaching wasn't typically part of his running and free weights routine, and the underused muscles he woke up today were complaining loudly.

"Wow," Steven smiled. "I know you just turned thirty-six and are therefore old, but I had no idea how decrepit you'd gotten."

"I'd smack you for that, but I'm conserving my strength." Paul sat heavily on the top step. "So I'll settle for a stern 'fuck you,'" he sighed.

"And on that note, why don't we stop for lunch?" Ace said.

He sounded upbeat, but Paul could see just as much sweat on Ace's skin as on his own. He really was working hard for Steven, and Paul doubted that this was something he'd do for all his clients. Was this for him, he wondered. Was Ace unable to stay away, too?

He hoped that was the reason. Hoped he was under Ace's skin, too, making him itch for more.

Because God knows he was ready to scratch it for him.

Steven and Holly left to pick up lunch, and Ace sent along a list of things to buy at Home Depot, not the least of which was, in Ace's technical term, a shitload of mulch.

That left Paul alone with Ace as they rested their muscles. 

Paul took a quick tour of the latest improvements and was impressed with how those ridiculous throw pillows really did make a difference. And the man cave that Ace seemed to conjure out of nothing was going to seduce every guy who viewed the house.

"You do good work," he said to Ace, handing him a Boulevard Pale Ale and sitting on one end of the living room sofa.

"You sound a little surprised," Ace said, smiling. He took up a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, which Paul immediately noticed and didn't care for. 

Paul shrugged. "Just surprised at how easy you make it look."

"Well, thank you," Ace said quietly. 

As much as Paul wanted to be able to skip to the naked, sweaty end, he knew he needed to ease into this. Ace had been alternately warm-eyed and cold shoulder today, and Paul wanted to get to the bottom of that. 

"Why did Steven think you and his realtor were together?" Paul asked, changing the subject abruptly. It had been bugging him since he'd first overheard their conversation.

Ace looked at him for a drawn-out moment, then shrugged. "I think your brother is trying to figure out the puzzle that is gayhood," he said. "He knows two gay men who know each other. Ergo, a husband and husband."

"Oh." Paul took a long drink from his beer and cleared his throat. "I thought maybe, you know, he had, um, seen something."

"Something?" Ace asked, amused. "Like his first gay kiss? Worried that his head might explode?"

A little. "No. I was just, you know, curious." Not jealous. Nope. 

They fell silent, nursing their beers. Paul wanted to keep Ace talking. Hell, he wanted a lot more than that. Needed to find something they had in common besides Steven. And that thought led him to the first night he met Ace.

"So, are you a regular at Sparks?" Paul asked, aiming for casual and missing.

Ace's smile immediately faded and he narrowed his eyes. "I go there," he said flatly.

"Often? I mean, regularly? You seemed to know your way around the place."

"It's not a complicated layout, Dr. McDonnell."

Paul stifled an annoyed huff. Dammit, this man knew exactly what he was asking. Why was he being coy?

"You visit the back room much?"

Ace held his eyes with a flinty gaze. "Not especially."

Paul arched an eyebrow. "It's just that you seemed pretty familiar with the whole process last week. Prepared, even. I got the sense that you, you know, that you weren't new at it."

"Not that it's any of your fucking business, but no, I don't fuck tricks at Sparks very often," Ace said stiffly. "That's why I asked you to come home with me. The back room is convenient, but ultimately ... unsatisfying."

Paul flinched inwardly. Is he saying I was a bad fuck? Impossible. That night blew my mind; I know he came undone too.

"So what were you doing there at all?" Paul countered.

Ace pursed his lips in annoyance. "Had a bad day. Hell, a bad week. Wanted to blow off some steam. I refuse to be labeled a whore for that, Dr. McDonnell."

"Will you cut it out with the doctor business?" Paul sighed.

"Gladly. If you'll stop implying that I'm some easy lay." Ace crossed his arms across his chest.

"All evidence to the contrary, huh?" Paul regretted the words the second they left his mouth. 

If it was possible, Ace's blue eyes got even frostier. "That's rich. You're calling me a slut, safely tucked in your closet," he spat. "It's probably the only place you fuck, isn't it?"

"You didn't seem all that picky," Paul bristled.

"I don't date - or fuck - closet cases," Ace said. "Been there. Not worth it."

Been there, huh? Somebody hurt him, Paul realized. But this secret was his life, his decision, and Paul wasn't going to ruin his life just so Ace could feel better about sucking his dick without shame.

Coward, he accused himself. It's not his shame.

"Why does it matter to you - or anyone else, really - if I'm out or not?" Paul said heatedly. "It's no one's business but the guy I'm fucking."

"That pretty much guarantees that you only fuck somebody once," Ace said.

"Not necessarily," Paul purred. He definitely wanted to fuck this guy twice. Hell, even twice might not be enough for him to get his fill.

"With me, necessarily," Ace snapped.

"Why not?" Paul persisted. "We both had a good time. Hell, it's all I've been thinking about every night. How hot you were, how tight and sexy."

Ace's hard eyes softened slightly, but he remained wary and resolute.

"We could meet at Sparks again," Paul said low. "Find that lovely dark corner. Release that steam again. I'm willing to break one of my rules if you're willing to bend yours."

"Your rules?"

"I don't fuck within a hundred miles of my house."

Ace blinked. "That's ... specific."

"It's good policy," Paul shrugged. "I take the right kind of vacations when I can, or weekend road trips if vacation is too far off. Gets the job done."

"Helps you hide who you are," Ace translated.

"Helps me be who I am, on my terms," Paul returned.

Ace snorted, clearly not buying it. "Thanks for the oh-so generous offer, but I pass."

Paul should have let it go right there. Should have given thanks that Ace was helping him follow his own rules. Should have cooled off and planned his next road trip.

Instead, he scooted closer to Ace on the sofa until their body heat began to mix and swirl into his senses. God help him, he still wanted this man. Not because of his shitty birthday this time, not because it had been too long since he'd gotten off - he wanted this man. More than he'd ever craved another person. 

So he decided to play a little dirty.

"Are you saying you honestly don't want it? Any of it?" Paul asked, running his fingers lightly across Ace's shoulders. He could feel those muscles tighten, and he heard Ace suck in a breath. The electric attraction between them was palpable, and he knew it wasn't one-sided. "Even though you know how good it feels?"

Ace shook his head slowly and gave him a hard look. "You're cotton candy."

Paul looked down at himself. "I fail to see the comparison."

"You're delicious, sinful even." Ace licked his lips, which drew Paul's eyes down to that luscious mouth. "But you're empty calories. A treat for the ballpark. Bad for me."

Bad for him? Paul didn't like that analogy at all, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.

"So let's go to the ballpark," he said. "I kind of like calling Sparks that. Lots of fun balls there."

Ace regarded Paul with hard eyes. "I've had my fill of cotton candy," he said. "I'm ready for the full meal. One that's good for me. One I don't have to eat in a goddamn closet!"

Ace jumped up and stalked off down the hallway into the bathroom.

Way to fuck that up, McDonnell, Paul berated himself.

He launched himself off the couch and followed him down the hall.

Just before Ace could shut the door, Paul backed him into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

"Or maybe we don't need the back room at all," he murmured. "Any dark, tight space will do."

"Paul, stop it," Ace protested. He put his hands on Paul's chest to keep him back, but he didn't seem able to push very hard. Paul took this as encouragement.

Steven's beige and umber bathroom still smelled of paint fumes from the touchups they'd done earlier. Paul didn't want to think about that, though - and he didn't want Ace to think at all right now.

"I can turn off the lights if it would make you more comfortable." Paul flicked the switch in the windowless room and plunged them into darkness. "Feel familiar?"

"Paul." This time his name came out as a breathless moan. Even as his eyes began to adjust, Paul still couldn't see much beyond general shapes. The sound of Ace's ragged breath rang loud in his ears.

"Come on, let me taste you," Paul whispered. "I haven't been able to get you out of my mind." He nuzzled his face into Ace's neck, letting his beard scratch the smooth, moist skin that he longed to explore. "I've never wanted anyone twice before. Never needed this so much."

He hovered his lips over Ace's, straining to see his eyes in the darkness. "Let me have you." His breath mixed with Ace's, whose mouth was hanging open and inviting. "One more time." At least. At the very least.

Paul wouldn't push any further than this. No matter how badly he ached to. Sure, he'd lock them in a dark bathroom to set the mood. But he'd back off if necessary. He needed Ace to make a move, one way or another.

Ace hadn't moved his hands from Paul's chest, and now his fingers clenched around the fabric of Paul's T-shirt.

"You are not good for me," Ace whispered, his breath hot on Paul's face.

"Probably."

"This is your brother's house."

"Yep."

"He could catch us."

"We've got time."

"You're breaking your rules."

"Don't care."

"I shouldn't -"

"Ace, kiss me." Paul moved his mouth as near to Ace's as he could without touching and held his breath.

The moment dragged on. Paul dug his hands into the firm flesh of Ace's ass and waited. And hoped.

Ace let out a sharp breath. "Fuck." Then he closed the gap and took Paul's mouth in a needy, hot kiss.

Paul groaned deep in his throat. He'd been aching for this all week, trying to remember the taste, the living texture of Ace's tongue. 

His memory fell far short of reality.

Addicted. He could feel his need twist into an addiction for this man. That should have scared him, should have sent him running. But his mind was quickly emptying of any thoughts except more.

They pulled away to breathe and gasped in unison, foreheads together. Paul recovered first and ran his tongue along Ace's jaw line, soaking up as much of him as he could.

He brought his hands around to Ace's crotch and relished the thick bulge he found there. Ace hissed when Paul's hand finally groped his growing length through the denim.

"I didn't get to play with this much last time," Paul said against Ace's neck. "Let me do this for you."

"Yes," Ace groaned. "God, yes."

Paul dropped to his knees and pulled Ace's groin to his face. They'd both been working hard today, and the smell of the outdoors and the mud and leaves mixed with Ace's intoxicating sweat. Every whiff he'd gotten today had made his dick twitch, and now the scent plus the proximity had made him hard and ready.

"It's a pity I can't see you this time," Paul said. "I'll have to feel my way around."

Paul pulled out Ace's beautiful dick and caressed it lovingly. Ace panted harshly above him.

Paul lapped up the precum leaking from the thick, pulsing head and savored this strong new flavor.

"You taste like sin," he growled.

Ace whimpered in response. Paul liked that he had reduced him to incoherent sounds. He wanted to make this man go non-verbal for hours, tease him past the breaking point. Wanted this man all night.

Where did that come from? He never wanted more than what was in the moment, from any man. But in this moment, Paul could see many nights filled with nothing but Ace, his body, his sounds, his flavor.

Speaking of which...

It had been a while since he'd taken a man in his mouth, and even longer since he'd had one so scrumptious at his disposal.

Really, though, had he ever known anyone like Ace? He doubted it.

The first true taste exploded on his tongue and made his blood sing with anticipation.

Paul toyed with the smooth crown head with his tongue before sending Ace deeper into his mouth. He hummed in greedy satisfaction.

"Shit." Ace gasped above him and let his hands fall to Paul's head. 

Ace left his hands there and rode the relentless rhythm that Paul established. The dirty sounds of a wet blowjob filled the small bathroom and mingled with Ace's strangled moans and hungry sounds.

Ace proved to be a verbal lover, keeping up a steady stream of whimpers and muffled curses and rough, unsteady breaths.

Paul was glad to know his skills hadn't gotten too rusty. He'd love the opportunity to keep practicing.

He wanted to draw this out, tease this receptive, responsive cock until Ace begged. But he could feel Ace's balls draw up, signaling an end to his play time.

Maybe next time. There has to be a next time.

"Oh God, Paul," Ace gasped. "I'm gonna - if you don't - you need -"

Paul pulled off just long enough to growl, "Come for me. Give me your load." Then he plunged back down and sucked hard.

Ace's fingers tightened in Paul's hair and he pulled Paul's face close.




Run and Hide Pt. 02



"Ahhh, fuck!" Ace spurted hot, tangy streams into Paul's mouth, and Paul drank him down.

He suckled the last drops off the tip and savored the lingering taste as Ace came down from his release.

Paul's first thought was More.

He shook his head to clear it. He was never going to get his fill of this man. He needed to go to Overeaters Anonymous. OverAcers Anonymous?

His second bite at the apple wasn't doing anything to satisfy his hunger. And at this moment he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside that tight ass again.

But Steven's guest bathroom was hardly the place for that, even though his erection was straining at the zipper of his jeans. Even though Ace's beautiful, sated body was slumped onto the closed toilet seat. Right in front of him. Smelling of sweat and sex.

He'd have to take care of this himself.

Paul gingerly rose from his kneeling position and, turning slightly away from Ace, opened his fly and eased some of the pressure on his throbbing cock. 

Ace pulled his hands away. "Let me do that," he said huskily. 

Paul looked down at him, trying to find his perfect blue eyes in the deep darkness of the small room. He wanted to try to read the emotion in them, but his brilliant plan of locking them in a dark bathroom was throwing a wrench into that.

"Be my guest," Paul said, his voice tight with arousal. 

Ace went to work on Paul's cock with a hungry ferocity, sucking hard and wet and fast. No slow build-up, no teasing. He seemed determined to pull Paul's load from him in record time.

Paul wanted to make this last longer, wanted to really feel every bit of Ace's soft, full lips and hot, slick throat. But he'd been half hard almost from the moment he saw this man again, and it was long past time for him to empty his balls.

He threaded his fingers through the soft blond hair he'd been dreaming about and kept his eyes fixed on the incredible sight before him.

Which was a mistake, if he wanted to draw this out. Because even in the darkness, the image of Ace's head bobbing on his cock and Ace's hands gripping his hips was enough to push him over the edge.

"Ace, fuck, do you want-" he broke off helplessly.

"Now," Ace said and swallowed him back down.

Paul's release rushed out of him, dropping into Ace's welcoming mouth, and Paul grunted with every spurt. He wanted to collapse in wrung-out contentment.

"Wow," he said between pants. "I guess you really are a Boy Scout."

Ace chuckled, remembering their first back room conversation at Sparks. "I am never selfish when it comes to orgasms."

Something tightened in Paul's heart when he heard that. An unselfish lover, a talented decorator, a beautiful man. 

Paul wanted him. Wanted all of him. And it scared him to death.

The garage door opened with a squeaky groan that echoed through the house. Both men froze with a start, the spell broken and reality rudely returning to their lives. They quickly cleaned up and darted back to the couch and their unfinished beers.

Luckily, their flushed faces could be explained away by the hard work they had been doing all morning. But Paul caught Holly looking at him oddly once or twice. 

Ace didn't meet his eyes during the lunch break. It helped that Holly kept up a steady stream of conversation with her new gay best friend. That's a woman who was born to be a fag hag.

During the rest of the work day, Ace kept moving constantly, directing the placement of pillows inside and mulch outside, hanging artwork and nudging furniture around. All the while, he kept his eyes elsewhere.

Paul knew there was more work to do if he was going to get another chance to be with Ace. Still had some angry defenses to break down. 

And still have to be honest about yourself.

Paul watched Ace leave in his red truck mid-afternoon and knew that another one of his rules was going to be destroyed tonight. 


Chapter 7

Ace ached all over by the time he unfolded his body from his truck after the forty-five minute drive back to Lawrence.

It's the sitting that kills ya. Everyone knows this. It's not that you're getting old, Hoffman. Weak abs notwithstanding.

He knew a day filled with yard work and home staging would take a lot out of him. But he had no idea how fully drained he would be when he finally escaped. 

God, what a rollercoaster that day was. By turns tense and uncomfortable, then tense and ecstatic, then tense and awkward. But mostly just tense. And his muscles sure did feel it. 

He needed to recover from ... everything. First, a long soak in the tub. Second, order some chicken lo mein from Happy Garden. Third, sleep. Lots of sleep. 

And fourth: Stop thinking about Paul in that damn bathroom.

Well, three out of four ain't bad.

He walked up to his front porch, where a strong mewl greeted him from the wooden swing.

"Hey, Lola," he said tiredly. "Back for more, baby?" He unlocked his front door and held it open. "Don't suppose you want to come in this time?"

To his surprise, his vagrant sort-of pet immediately leapt off the swing and sauntered inside. It usually only did that on very cold or very wet nights, and tonight was decidedly neither. 

Huh. Lola must have known about the upcoming lo mein. They were both suckers for it. Surely this commitment-phobic cat wasn't adopting him for keeps? 

Stranger things have happened. Like Paul shutting him in a bathroom and sucking his brains out of his dick.

Ace gave a full-body shudder at the memory. He couldn't believe that the man who first fucked him senseless then coolly acted like they had never met would ever drop to his knees and turn him to pudding with his tongue like that. 

A swirl of black and white by his feet brought his mind back to the present. Lola was rubbing a flank against his jeans, marking him with feline scent. 

Speaking of scent, Ace could tell he was pretty ripe from all that manual labor. 

Step one: bath. Extra bubbles. And a bottle of moscato. Stat.

Ace left Lola to its own devices while he lounged in his restored claw foot tub upstairs until the lavender bubbles had disappeared and the water had gone irrevocably cold. The bottle of sweet white wine was half gone, and he could see his tension drain with the cooling bathwater.

As he dried off, he called his favorite Chinese delivery place for his usual order. He decided not to get dressed, knowing he was just going to bed not long after eating. He hoped answering the door in only a robe wouldn't seem too lascivious. 

He slipped into a perfectly worn, soft, baby blue robe and plopped down on the couch. Lola immediately took up residence on his lap.

"You're affectionate tonight," Ace murmured as he stroked her back. "I suppose everybody needs a friendly touch now and then."

Or one that's something other than friendly. Like scorching. A scorching touch every now and then does the trick, too.

He thought about turning on the TV for some white noise, but the stuff they showed on Saturday night didn't even qualify as good white noise. So he contented himself with petting a purring cat, relishing Lola's rare acquiescence to such domesticity.

Sooner than he expected, the doorbell rang. He snagged his wallet from the entryway table.

"Wow, that was quick," he said as he swung the door open. The rest of his words died in his mouth, which dropped open at the sight of his visitor.

Paul. All six-foot-three of him filled his doorway. He had obviously showered and changed after his day at Steven's, too, and Ace was hit with the clean, irresistible scent of his soap and shampoo. The smell brought to mind images of Paul in the shower, bubbles and water running down his body. Ace felt his dick twitch under his loose robe.

"Hey," Paul said in that ought-to-be-illegal voice. "You left this behind." He held up Ace's clippers from the yard work.

"Oh," Ace said intelligently. He couldn't command his muscles to move. He was keenly aware of how naked he was under the robe. "Uh, thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"It's no trouble," Paul said easily. He slowly trailed his gaze up and down Ace's body, and Ace felt it like a physical caress. 

"So," Paul drew out expectantly. "Can I come in?"

Ace blinked to clear his brain. "Sure. Yeah." He stepped back to let him in. Paul brushed against him on his way through the door.

He closed the door and tried to collect himself. This is fine. He's returning a garden tool. He doesn't fuck within a hundred miles of his home. Except, you know, in his brother's bathroom.

Ace didn't know whether to jump him or kick him.

"Your place is, uh, not what I expected," Paul said slowly, taking in the color explosion that was Ace's living room.

"What were you expecting then?" Something less gay? 

Paul shrugged. "Something like what you did at Steven's, I guess. I figured that was your style."

"My personal style doesn't usually have much to do with the houses I stage," Ace said. "I would never recommend anyone do their home like mine if they're trying to sell it. But I'm not trying to sell this place."

"It looks like you wanted to use all the colors in the big box of crayons," Paul said.

Ace looked around at the cacophony of disparate artwork, the collection of mismatched furniture, the deep jewel toned walls.

"Well, some of those poor colors never get played with at all," he said lightly. "I was trying to be equal opportunity."

Paul turned to him and smiled, a genuine sweet smile, and Ace's breath caught. He was back on the roller coaster. Away from anyone else's eyes, Paul felt like perfect sexy boyfriend material. Around other people, though, Paul felt like - 

Cameron. Fuck. 

Ace would not go through that again. Can't let this one in, he decided. 

No matter how damn good it felt when he was inside.

"I like it," Paul decided.

Huh. Not what Ace expected.

"This room looks really, um, comfortable," Paul said, looking at the artfully stuffed living room.

"That was the goal," Ace said, crossing to the other side of the room. "The fireplace is the best part, especially in the damn Kansas winter."

"Not used to that, huh?"

"Not after a few years in Atlanta," Ace said. "Last winter was a rude awakening. I camped out here with a big fire every night. Spent all my money on firewood."

Paul's eyes grew warm. "Sounds cozy."

Ace fought a flush. Why the hell am I telling him all this? It's not like he's going to cuddle with me on the sofa. 

Nope. Paul was strictly a closet guy. Or a back room guy.

"So," Ace drew out. "Garden tool delivery complete. Thank you for that." He rocked on his heels, not sure what to expect or do next. "You know, you really didn't need to go out of your way for my hedge trimmers."

Paul made a scoffing sound. "We're practically neighbors."

"Oh? What part of town do you live in?"

"Camden Woods. I have a condo there."

"Really? I would have thought Park Hill for a doctor."

Paul made a face. "Too much work."

"What? Walking up the hill?"

"Taking care of one of those old houses."

"Hmm. Low maintenance really is your mission statement, isn't it?"

Paul cleared his throat and looked around the room. His eyes lit up when he found a group of old photos on the mantle.

"Is this you?" he asked, amusement thick in his voice.

This time Ace couldn't stop the blush. "Yep. Me in all my curly glory."

"You were adorable." Paul studied Ace's face and hair. "Does it still get curly like that?"

"In a heartbeat," Ace sighed. "Makes me look like an unkempt frat boy, so I keep it trimmed."

"That's too bad. I bet it would feel great through my fingers."

Gulp.

"Is this your sister in the photo with you?" Paul asked, seemingly oblivious to the rush he just sent through Ace. 

"Yeah. Sonya. My big sis." He needed to call her. Hell, he needed to go visit them in Colorado and remind her sons who their favorite uncle was. 

"Sonya and Acelin," Paul said. "German, I take it?"

"Quite. My mom is Ilsa, even," Ace said. "And the name Paul aside, McDonnell has gotta be Irish, yes?" As do those dark eyebrows and tragically beautiful features.

"Correct." Paul smiled at him as the conversation faded to nothing. The moment stretched out, and Ace was in danger of getting lost in the silence.

"So," he said, determined to stay true to himself, "you're here, within a hundred miles of -"

The doorbell rang, interrupting Ace's attempt at exercising his atrophied willpower.

"Shit, my dinner," he said, moving toward the entryway. "Um, just a sec-"

"You're answering the door like that?" Paul asked.

Ace self-consciously adjusted the belt of his robe. "I did when you rang. I'm sure delivery people see much worse."

"Why don't you let me get it?" Paul pulled out his wallet and headed toward the door.

"Seriously, it's okay," Ace insisted. "I'm not going to shock anybody. And you don't need to buy my dinner."

"I do if I'm going to steal some of it." Paul firmly pushed Ace back, and the touch of his hand nearly burned through the terry cloth.

Ace stopped breathing briefly and locked eyes with him. Neither of them moved for a moment until the doorbell sounded again.

"Coming," Paul called toward the door. Ace retreated into the kitchen to get some drinks, marveling at how easy it was for that man to render him non-verbal.

He stood staring into his refrigerator, no clue what to offer Paul. In the meantime, he decided to polish off what was left of the moscato. The sweet wine zipped through him and sent a burst of warmth to his blood.

"What do you have to drink?" The illegal voice snuck up on him again.

Ace turned and regarded him. "You're really staying for dinner?"

"I could take it all home with me," Paul teased.

Ace sighed. "Fine. I have Boulevard, Pepsi, Jameson, rum, vodka, some wines. Take your pick."

"Wow, you're pretty stocked."

"The Irish aren't the only famous drinkers, McDonnell," Ace said with a smile. "We Germans more than hold our own."

"I bet you do," Paul rumbled. "Boulevard for me, please." He reached past Ace to grab a beer, and Ace was suddenly disoriented by the man's proximity. 

He half stumbled back toward the cabinets for plates and forks. 

"Aw, aren't you gonna let me feed you with chopsticks?" Paul said.

Ace raised an eyebrow at him and firmly handed him a plate and fork.

Paul opened one of the Happy Garden cartons. "Mmm, I love lo mein."

That deep purr nearly undid Ace. No man had the right to be that sexy. And a doctor. And in his kitchen.

And in the closet. Focus.

They sat at the dining table and ate in silence. Ace didn't think it was wise to encourage him. He had already shown an appalling lack of restraint around this man in close quarters. And in his home was about as close as Paul could get.

Lola hopped up on the table to demand a share of the meal. Ace smiled at the cat with affection.

"Did I forget you, sweetheart?" he cooed. "I know you're only here for the food, not really for the company." He scooped a pile of the noodles on to a plate and placed it on the floor. "We all know our place in the hierarchy of your affections."

"You have a cat?" Paul asked, rather obviously.

"Sort of. I don't think Lola would submit to being anyone's, though. It's a very persistent porch kitty."

Paul frowned. "It?"

"Not sure if Lola is a boy cat or girl cat. That's why I call it Lola. Like the song."

Paul considered it. "But in the song, Lola turns out to be a transvestite. You're saying your cat is a transvestite?"

"I'm saying my cat doesn't know what it wants to be."

Ace didn't intend that to be so pointed, but as the words came out of his mouth, he saw how they could apply to Paul. He doesn't know who he wants to be, either. Doesn't know if he really wants in or not.

Paul looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and questioning eyes.

"Or, if Lola does turn out to be a boy cat, he has very shy genitals," Ace said, putting on a cheerful voice.

Which would make Lola nothing like Paul.

As if he had read Ace's thoughts, Paul gave him a slow, burning smile.

Ace quickly pushed a big forkful of noodles into his mouth and averted Paul's eyes.

The sooner they finished this meal, the sooner Ace would be out of danger, so he made quick work of the food on his plate. 

Paul kept his eyes on Ace as they both ate, but he didn't say much throughout the rest of the meal.

Getting up to clear the table, Ace couldn't stop a small groan from escaping. He'd been sitting too long again, and his muscles protested.

"Stiff?" Paul asked.

He would use that word. "All over," Ace admitted. "I don't usually do much work on my knees like that."

He wanted to swallow his tongue. Was every word an innuendo?

He dared a glance at Paul's quickly darkening eyes.

Yep. Every word.

"I can fix that," Paul said, low.

"Oh, it's not so bad that I require a visit to the chiropractor," Ace said, waving him off. "Thanks, though."

Because there was no way he could survive the feeling of Paul's slick hands all over his body.

"Nothing clinical, I promise," Paul said. "Just an expert massage. You did say something at Steven's about needing one."

Yes, he did. Ace's muscles pleaded with him to say yes. His brain screamed at him to politely decline and get this man out of his house. He suddenly knew what Eve was thinking as she gazed at that forbidden fruit.

Except in this case, Paul was both the apple and the snake.

"Really, it's not necessary," Ace said with remarkable restraint. "Fifteen or sixteen hours of sleep, and I should be just fine."

"Come on, you're already dressed for it," Paul said, indicating the robe. "And I have some very relaxing massage oils in my car. You'll be good as new when I'm done with you."

"You just happened to have massage oils with you," Ace said flatly. 

Paul actually twinkled at him. "You're not the only Boy Scout."

Ace could feel his last finger hold of control slipping away. It's one thing to swear him off when he can't see Paul; it's another thing altogether to breathe his air and still sensibly push him out the door. 

"Well, what kinds did you bring?" Ace asked, as if the right answer would make up his mind. "I don't relish the idea of my house smelling like sandalwood."

Paul smiled. "Let me go out to my car to fetch them while you get some towels." He reached the door and turned around. "Don't disappear on me."

Now would be the time to bolt the door and shut him out of his life. Right now. Just move to the door.

Instead, Ace found himself heading upstairs to the linen closet.

He was halfway down the stairs when Paul came through the door.

"Stay there," Paul said. "Are the bedrooms upstairs?"

Ace faltered. "Uh, yeah, but I thought the sofa -"

"Since I don't have my work table, it will be a lot easier for both of us on a flat, soft surface like a bed," Paul said, climbing the stairs. "Sofas can get cramped and awkward."

Ace nodded. It made perfect sense. Of course they were going to be in bed for this. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

This man was going to eat him alive. One can only hope.

"I have some good choices for you," Paul said, holding up a wicker basket of colorful glass bottles. "Let's get set up."

Paul spread the towels carefully on top of the bedspread in the master bedroom while Ace examined the selections. He opened the lid on almond oil and took in its sweet scent.

"That's a good choice for someone who's new to getting massages," Paul said.

Ace put it back in the basket and picked up a dusky mauve bottle.

"Agarwood, huh?" Ace said, reading the label. "Is it related to sandalwood? Part of the wood family?"




Run and Hide Pt. 02



"They're both tree based, yes," Paul said. "This one is infused with the scent of ylang-ylang. It's sort of floral and masculine at the same time."

Ace opened the lid and inhaled. His senses suddenly popped open and filled with the fragrance, and it made his skin tingle with an unsettled energy. It's like the itch he always felt around Paul had been amplified and enlarged.

He looked at Paul, who was watching him with dilated eyes. 

"Liked that one, did you?" Paul rumbled.

"It's definitely, um, of the wood family," Ace said faintly. 

"Is that the one you want to use?"

Ace nodded and handed him the bottle. He didn't trust himself to say anything, not with his skin alive and on edge like that. 

"Good. Lie on your stomach in the middle of the bed," Paul said, a decibel lower than normal. "And you can take off the robe if you'd like."

He didn't trust himself to be completely naked, so Ace kept the robe belted but shrugged out of the sleeves. He crawled into place on the bed and carefully adjusted himself before lying down.

Ace heard Paul take a deep, rough breath behind him as Ace waited for the first touch of his hands.

"Where does it hurt?" Paul asked low.

"Mostly my back, but the arms are a little sore, too. And my thighs. And neck."

Paul chuckled. "I'm going to start on your back first, okay?"

Ace murmured his consent and had to fight not to gasp when he felt the first cool drops of oil drip onto his skin. Then Paul's large hands smoothed the liquid from his shoulder blades to where the robe stopped low on his waist. 

"Are you sure this doesn't violate some sort of doctor policy?" Ace asked in a strained voice. You know, the one about not fucking your patients?

Paul dug into a tight muscle between his shoulder blades, and Ace groaned low. "I guess we'll have to keep this off the books," Paul said.

Ace snorted against the pillow. "You're just breaking all sorts of rules tonight, aren't you?"

But then again, so are you, Hoffman.

"Are you complaining about it?" Paul teased. 

Ace moaned happily as Paul's magic hands opened up his tense back. "Absolutely not," he groaned. "God, did they teach you how to do this in chiropractor school?"

"That's where I learned about human musculature," Paul said. "But I really learned how to do this on my mom."

He learned sensual massage on his mother? "I'm going to go with eww on that," Ace said. 

Paul smacked Ace's ass lightly. "Not like that, perv," he laughed. "My mom has had a bad back for as long as I can remember. She taught me and Steven how to help her when the pain got bad. She's the reason I went into chiropractic in the first place."

"Remind me to send you mother a lovely thank-you card," Ace said. 

Ace let himself fall deeper under the spell of Paul's hands as they teased out every ache and kink along his arms and shoulders, then back down to his flank. The scent of the oil intensified as his skin grew hot under Paul's touch.

"Agarwood, you said this was?" Ace mumbled against the pillow. "S'nice. Does it have a medical purpose or something?"

Paul chuckled low. "Or something. According to some sources, it's a powerful herbal aphrodisiac."

The floral musky scent of the oil permeated Ace's skin and made him dizzy with yearning. "I believe it," he sighed. "But why you would need to carry around an external aphrodisiac is beyond me."

Paul leaned in closer to reach his shoulder blades. "You're the one who picked it." Ace felt Paul's beard scratch against his ear. "And I most certainly don't need it around you." 

Ace could feel the evidence of that pressing against his hip, and it made him doubly aware of his own throbbing cock pushing against the mattress.

"I'm going to do your thighs and ass now," Paul told him as he slowly eased the robe all the way off his body. "It's going to do wonders for your back pain." Ace heard Paul's sharp intake of air once the garment was gone.

"Fuck," Paul whispered. "I almost forgot how beautiful your ass was."

Ace flushed with pleasure - and even sharper arousal. It was good to know he wasn't the only one coming undone with this massage.

"You better not say that to all your patients," Ace teased. "Someone is bound to sue you with much enthusiasm."

"Trust me," Paul rasped. "I've never wanted to say that to any of my patients. I've been thinking about your ass since I first saw you."

He dribbled more oil onto the creamy white buttocks in front of him and made wide, sweeping circles from the top of each mound over to the hip.

Paul's fingers knew exactly where to go, exactly where the muscles needed attention, exactly what to do to make Ace go boneless.

Well, not entirely boneless. 

His fingers teased along the crack of Ace's ass, never quite entering, just driving Ace insane with need. Was he trying to make him beg? Because if Paul just pushed in a little further, Ace would say anything he wanted.

"You have a great back," Paul murmured, running his hands up the full length of it.

"Mmm?" Ace said sleepily. "That's good to know. I've been told my abs lack definition, however."

"Really?" Paul paused his movement. "Well, let's have a look then."

Before he could blink, Ace found himself flipped over and looking up into those beautiful eyes, filled with humor and desire. 

"I don't know who told you that crap about your abs," Paul said softly, his eyes and fingers tracing the muscles in question. "You look just right to me." He pressed his palm against Ace's belly and began lightly rubbing in clockwise circles.

Ace was intently aware of his straining exposed erection, which Paul managed to brush against with every movement of his hand against his stomach. 

"Are you ticklish?"

Ace looked at him in sharp alarm. God, if Paul started tickling him, he would fall apart. He sounded like a shrieking six-year-old girl when he was being tickled. "A little," he said slowly. "But don't -"

"Don't worry, I won't," Paul said, smiling. "Just needed to know how much pressure to apply." Paul resumed the circular motion on his stomach, and Ace would have found it soothing except for the insistent pulse of his cock.

Ace was at his breaking point. If Paul reached just a little lower, he was going to explode all over him. He didn't know how much longer he could hover on the edge of release like this, trapped between wanting to come and wanting this vibrating pleasure to continue indefinitely. 

Paul's hands stilled on his belly, and Ace opened his eyes to see his tormentor staring at him intently.

"There's one more stiff muscle I need to address," Paul said slowly. He slid down the bed and let his face hover over Ace's cock. He locked eyes with Ace again. "Do you want this?" he asked. His rumbling voice sent vibrations along Ace's skin, like he could feel the echo in his chest.

He could say no. Paul was giving him an out. He could be strong and pull back, send him home. He could.

No, he couldn't.

"Fuck yes," Ace moaned. "Need it, need you."

Paul licked the tip of Ace's cock, making Ace shudder violently. "Don't come yet," Paul said. "This isn't your happy ending."

Ace felt the wet heat of Paul's mouth close over the pulsing head of his cock and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from shooting right then. Had it really been only this afternoon that Paul had been with him like this? It felt like another lifetime, another planet. Nothing felt real in this moment except for Paul's tongue, Paul's lips, Paul's head bobbing up and down on him. 

Just before he was about to come, Paul pulled away. 

"What - why did you -" Ace panted.

"Need to work on your back some more," Paul rasped. He flipped Ace back over in one smooth movement and pushed his knees toward his chest. "This muscle definitely needs more attention."

Paul poured more oil along Ace's crack and slowly worked his finger into the tight hole. Ace dropped his head weakly to the pillow. 

"You're killing me," he whimpered. "Please, Paul, please -"

"Shhh." Paul pushed a second finger in. "Let me prepare you. I'm gonna sink inside you, soon."

Every muscle that Paul had so carefully uncoiled was now drawn up tight, desperate for Paul's cock, desperate for release. 

He heard the rip and crinkle of a condom being opened, then finally, finally Paul's dick teased at Ace's opening. Ace pushed out to take him in, and Paul slowly slid all the way down in one slow, perfect stroke. 

They gasped in unison once he was fully seated.

"The things you do to me," Paul whispered. "I didn't know ... it's never..."

"I know," Ace said. This felt right, like everything he'd been waiting for. They fit perfectly. Their bodies already knew what their stubborn heads kept trying to prevent. 

Paul began moving in and out of him, angling just right so he brushed Ace's prostate on every thrust. And each time he did, Ace helplessly squeaked, a low and breathless sound that quickly turned into his song of desire.

"Hold your ass open," Paul grunted. "I want to see my cock sliding into you."

Ace's eyes rolled back into his head. Just when he thought this couldn't get any hotter. Had Paul figured out how much dirty talk turned him on?

He reached back and did as he was asked. Paul growled low in his throat, a sound that connected directly with Ace's cock, and Paul picked up his pace to a nearly frantic level.

"That's it, fuck, just like that," Paul chanted, his words coming in strained grunts keeping time with his hips.

This time Ace could hear all the sinful sounds of sex, not just the muffled thump of the bar's music. Behind him, he could hear the wet slap of sweaty skin on skin, the slick sucking of Paul's mouth on his neck, his own helpless pants and groans.

He wanted this always, wanted this every night, every chance he got. Deep in the swirling mix of passion and lust, he threw out every warning, every caution that had ever stopped him from taking what he wanted. 

Ace squeezed down on Paul's pistoning cock, wrenching a groan out of the man behind him.

"Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that," he moaned.

"Need to come, Paul," Ace begged. "Need to feel you."

Paul took Ace's leaking cock in his hand and expertly twisted his hand around. Ace's breathing sped up suddenly, and then he froze as his orgasm crashed through him. He lurched back against Paul and rode out the sensation, lost in his bliss.

He collapsed onto the bed and felt Paul resume his pounding into him. Ace loved that feeling - when he was completely sated and relaxed, he could concentrate on the relentless motion of Paul's thick cock in and out of his hot channel. 

He squeezed down again, determined to make Paul join him in mindlessness.

Paul gasped and thrust sharply before slamming home one more time and grunting as he unloaded into the condom.

He collapsed on top of Ace, wrapping his arms around Ace's waist and breathing harshly against his neck.

Ace could feel sleep steadily overtake him, and the last thing he heard before he dropped off was Paul's satisfied, potent voice murmuring in his ear.

"God, what you do to me."



Run and Hide Pt. 03



Chapter 8

Paul woke the next morning with the sun warm on his face and a mop of golden hair on his chest. He had that unsettling feeling of not knowing where he was. 

Suddenly, the fog of sleep cleared and he remembered what had brought him to this moment. Ace's slick skin, the irresistible scent of the oil and Ace's body, the impossible heat surrounding his cock when they finally gave in to each other. 

Paul purred deep in his throat. That experience should have satisfied him, should have left him worn out and sated. Instead, it did just the opposite.

After they had rested following the first desperate joining, they found each other twice more in the night, each time a new discovery for each of them. Paul hadn't been fully naked in front of Ace until Ace had slowly stripped every remaining stitch from his body and pushed him into the shower so he could de-oil their bodies. Then Ace proceeded to lick every place his tongue could reach.

They both passed out, drunk on each other after their third coupling. Paul hadn't meant to spend the night, though he knew that once he closed his eyes they weren't going to open again while it was still dark out.

He'd never actually slept next to another man like this. Not once in all his years of being sexually active. He was hardly a virgin, but this was definitely virgin territory.

Ace stirred slightly in his sleep and wrapped his arm around Paul's waist, treating the bigger man like a human pillow. He breathed deeply and made a sleepy, satisfied sound that echoed through Paul's body.

This was expressly against the rules. This was what he needed to avoid, so he didn't let himself believe he could have it full time. 

But this felt good. Right, even. 

His physical need had deepened into something else, something scary. He could see a lifetime of mornings waking up to this very sight, a lifetime of evenings filled with massages and Chinese food and that fireplace. 

He shouldn't be wishing on stars that were so far out of his reach. He should run away before he was so far caught in this pleasant trap that it would destroy him to have to leave it.

But he couldn't make himself do what he needed to do. In this room with Ace, he was himself, and himself was completely content and at home. 

He wound his arms around Ace's body and hugged him closer, deeply breathing in his scent and willing time to stand still.

The movement caused Ace to wake up further. He made a noise that was half groan, half moan, all sexy. 

"Morning," he mumbled. "What time is it?"

Paul twisted his body to find the alarm clock. "Just after ten."

"Christ," Ace sighed. "I hardly ever sleep this late."

"You probably actually sleep during the night most of the time, though," Paul smiled.

"Mmmm, true." Ace slowly pressed wet kisses into Paul's furred chest. "Something disrupted my sleep cycle."

"A couple of times," Paul confirmed. 

Ace rolled onto his back and stretched his nude body, grunting with the pleasure of reawakening his muscles. Paul's cock stirred in appreciation.

"Mmmm, I can't lie around here all day. Erik is coming over for brunch any time now."

A bolt of jealousy smacked Paul in the gut. "Erik?" he asked in a tight voice.

"My best friend," Ace said. "Standing Sunday thing." He curled onto his side to face Paul. "You want to join us? We're headed to Mass Street to that great bakery and café."

Paul's heart fell. More than anything right now, he wanted to be able to say, sure, absolutely, I'd love to meet your friend, let's make a day of it.

But none of those things were possible. Not today. Would they ever be?

"I can't," Paul whispered, knowing this could cause things to cool between them. "I haven't been home much in the last two days, so..."

Ace's sleepy smile faded sadly from his face. "Of course. Right. Well, a guy can dream, right?" He threw off the cover and started to rise.

Paul tugged him back down and position himself over him. "You don't have to go right this moment, do you?" he whispered against Ace's throat.

Ace took a deep breath, as if to fortify himself. "You can't keep doing this, Paul."

"Doing what?" Paul played innocent, but he knew exactly what Ace meant. Instead of acknowledging the real issue that lay between them, Paul licked up the side of Ace's neck, swirling his tongue into his ear. He'd discovered that trick last night when Ace lost the ability to speak the first time he'd done it.

"You know what," Ace said, his words strangled by a bolt of lust. "Despite yesterday, I really have sworn off closet cases. It's my rule." He moved his hands to Paul's chest to push him off.

Paul swiftly grabbed both wrists and pinned them to the bed. "We both broke a lot of rules last night," Paul said, his face hovering over Ace's. "The night's not over yet."

Ace quirked an eyebrow. "And that bright sun in the window?"

"Moonlight," Paul murmured against his mouth.

"Nice try, Romeo," Ace said.

"The night's not over as long as we're in this bed," Paul said, capturing his eyes and holding them fast. He ground his hips into Ace's to emphasize their shared need.

He saw Ace's resolve crumbling, and Paul took advantage.

"This bright moonlight is giving me a perfect view of your body, you know," Paul rumbled, his mouth pressed to Ace's neck. "Must be a really full moon tonight."

He released Ace's wrists so he could touch some of that bared skin, and he noticed that Ace kept his hands perched above his head. Paul took that as a hint – and as an offering.

He feasted on Ace's body with his mouth and hands, relishing every helpless sound he pulled from his lover. 

"Mmmm, want to eat you up," Paul growled. "So fucking delicious, your sweat, your skin, your cock. Hungry for you."

Paul teased Ace's nipples with his tongue and teeth, chewing lightly on the hard nubs, wanting Ace to lose his mind in the overwhelming sensation. His skin felt alive and warm and glowing under his tongue, and it drove him to seek out the other sensitive spots he'd already discovered on Ace's body.

Paul had wondered if this would be less exciting, exploring territory that had already been conquered. Part of the thrill of fucking strange men in dark corners was that he never knew what to expect, and each man was tasty in different ways. 

Paul loved the variety he found in his past encounters. Loved discovering new flavors, new beautiful bodies. It kept him hungry for the next new flavor because once he'd had someone, he never went back for more. He couldn't see the point - or the reward. 

But as he drew his tongue along familiar flesh, Paul suddenly saw the appeal of revisiting one partner over and over. The taste, the feel - none of it was boring. Instead, Ace was quickly becoming his favorite meal, one he wanted to savor slowly. The kind he kept ordering at his favorite restaurant even though he knew the menu was filled with interesting options.

It's just that now he knew exactly how good Ace was, and he didn't want to waste any time with someone new who could potentially disappoint. 

Paul pulled back to look at Ace's flushed face and quivering body. 

"How do you want me?" Paul rasped, slowly stroking Ace's cock. "Want my cock inside you? Your cock in my mouth? My hand? Whatever you want. Anything you want. Tell me."

Ace's eyes were dilated to full dark. "M-mouth," he moaned. "Suck me. Please."

"Mmm, excellent choice." Paul engulfed his cock in one sudden motion, drawing a shocked gasp from Ace. 

"Ohhh, can't, can't," Ace panted. "Gonna make me ... so good..."

"Then come," Paul rumbled. "Come for me. Want to drink you, all of you." He sucked sharply on the head of Ace's cock and tightly jerked the shaft. 

Ace grunted suddenly and unloaded in Paul's waiting mouth. Paul kept his mouth on the spasming cock while he kept his eyes on Ace's bliss-filled face. 

He pulled his mouth off Ace's cock with a wet pop and licked his lips with a satisfied hum.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Excellent choice."

The taste of Ace in his mouth strengthened his need for release, and Paul maneuvered to his knees and hovered over him. He needed to come badly, but he didn't want Ace to do anything for him but recover.

"Gonna come all over you," Paul gasped, furiously pulling on his cock, pushing himself over the edge. He arched his back and came with a rough jerk, letting his seed dribble onto Ace's belly.

Spent, Paul collapsed bodily on top of Ace, letting the sticky, warm fluid smear between them. He wanted Ace to smell like him for just a little longer. 

Mine, he thought.

Even though his rules had no allowance for any "mine," it was just so easy to say "fuck the rules" during an afterglow. 

Eventually, he slid to the side to free Ace from his own heavier body. Truthfully, though, he could have happily fallen back asleep right there. 

"Mmmm," Ace purred and stretched out. "I just love it when you talk dirty."

Paul lifted his head to look at him. "Oh really? That's what does it for you?"

"Oh, a lot of things do it for me, but that's definitely at the top of my list," Ace said. "Especially with that voice."

Paul filed that away for next time. It looked as though he'd have to convince Ace anew every time, especially if Ace decided to get serious about this closet cases policy. Paul needed to use all the weapons at his disposal. 

"Well, Cinderella," Ace sighed, "ball's over. Shoe's gone. We have to get out of this bed. Or pumpkin. Whatever."

Damn. Now Paul had to perform a rather delicate extraction and get himself out of Ace's house while still leaving the door open for more in the future. 

"Cinderella, huh? Does that make you my Fairy Godmother?" Paul teased.

Ace grinned. "Got the fairy part right. And possibly the magic wand. Don't know if I have the power to grant wishes, though."

Paul loved that smile, loved the way it illuminated his beautiful face. Captivated, he leaned in to steal another kiss.

Ace dodged the move and slid out of bed. "Nope. The night is officially over. Time to face the day." He winked at Paul and strode naked into the bathroom.

Paul kept his eyes trained on that perfect, tight ass until it disappeared. He sighed and, with effort, pulled his body out of bed. 

Ace's bedroom was on the top floor of his quirky Victorian house, and its window had a good view of both the street below and, off in the distance, of the taller campus buildings. 

Paul heard the shower spurt to life in the adjoining bathroom as he leaned against the tall window and took in the view. 

He saw his black Acura parked in the driveway and spotted a couple of cyclists speed by. Across the street, a family was returning from church, and another neighbor who probably never went to church was working on his yard. 

This was a great neighborhood. A place to really live, not just a building to sleep in and play video games, which is how he saw his condo. He could picture himself here, sitting with Ace on that big front porch while Lola patrolled the yard in front of their crayon-crazy funky house.

His blood froze at a sudden realization: He had spent the night at the very visible, very recognizable house of a gay man. An out gay man. In his own town. His smallish Kansas town. His car was in the driveway. There were people all over the street who would see him leave this morning. 

Privacy was a myth, he knew that. No such thing. All it took was one person recognizing him and connecting the dots – just one client or one of his own neighbors – and then his carefully kept secret would collapse on top of him. 

This. Is why. There are rules. 

He had to get out of here. Now. 

Paul threw on the clothes he found scattered around the bedroom and hurriedly tugged on his shoes. He was at the door of the room before he realized he hadn't even said goodbye to Ace.

Ace. God, he didn't want to do this to him. It seemed like every time they got close, Paul would do something to push the reset button. 

He had to say something now, or there would be no coming back. And in spite of this crippling fear, he knew he couldn't stay away from Ace.

"Hey Ace?" he called out to be heard over the shower.

"Yeah?" Ace shouted back.

"I've got to head out. You have that brunch thing, right?" He tried to keep the panic out of his voice. 

There was a pause, and Paul wondered if he needed to repeat himself. The sound of the shower tapered off and Ace appeared in the bathroom door, a towel slung low on his waist and water still dripping onto his face from his hair.

"Right. Brunch," Ace said without emotion. "Which you can't go to. Because you have to go. To your own house."

Paul felt himself split perfectly in two, watching the water make trails down Ace's chest and wanting to kiss away that disappointed look on his face. But he couldn't. Fear – that powerful, ruthless motivator – was pulling him out the door.

Ace looked like he wanted to say something, or ask something, but Paul couldn't bear to hurt him anymore with his inevitable answer. 

"I'll see you later." That false promise, that door to leave open a crack, even as he was making his way back to the bedroom door. 

"Hey, Ace in the hole! You aren't still asleep, are you?" A man's voice traveled up the stairs from the front door.

Paul froze and swiveled his head back to Ace. 

"That would be Erik. Who is early," Ace confirmed. He quickly pulled on some jeans and tugged a T-shirt over his moist skin. "Want to meet him?" he asked with a voice full of dejection.

Fuck. Paul had hoped to escape without a witness.

"I've really got to go."

"Go then. I'll make your gracious apologies."

Paul was stopped by Ace's eyes in the moment before he fled, and the pain he saw in them nearly made him stay. But, coward that he was, Paul couldn't afford to take that chance. His head was pulling him one way, and his heart was tugging another. 

The tug-of-war inside him was tearing him apart.

So he tucked his head into his chest and barreled past Ace's startled friend on his flight outside. 

*****

Ace helplessly watched his fears came true as Paul fled from being seen with him in the daylight. And worse, his best friend – who knew that he knew he should have known better – witnessed it.

"Was that ..." Erik started, perplexed. "That wasn't... was it?"

"Oh, right, let me introduce you," Ace said sarcastically, helplessly. "Erik, this is Paul McDonnell. He's shy, you see, so he's hiding from you. From me."

Ace slumped onto the sofa and let his head fall back against the cushions. Lola immediately jumped onto his lap and snuggled against him, as if she could tell he needed some comfort. 

Creepy little psychic cat, he thought affectionately as he stroked the soft fur that curled up to meet his hand. 

"Who is Paul?" Erik sat close beside him and turned to face him. "Not the guy from before? From Sparks?"

"The one and only," Ace sighed. 

"Your hot hookup was Dr. McDonnell?"

"You know him?"

"By name. Didn't know he had that face," Erik said. "He ran out of here like he was on fire."

"Well, he is pretty hot," Ace sighed. 

Erik peered intently at Ace, whose face revealed every emotion he wanted to hide. 

"Spill," he said. 

Ace filled him in on how Paul had re-entered his life through Steven and about the sinful massage that led to this awkward morning. He kept some of the juicier details to himself, wanting to hold them close to his chest to warm him when he was alone. 

"Well, you wanted to bring him home in the first place, didn't you," Erik said with a short sigh. "And he just showed up for you."

"Yeah, he shows up like the Great Gazoo," Ace said. "I'm the only one who can see him when he's gay."

"The Great Gazoo!" Erik squeaked. "Ah, childhood."

"I promised myself no more guys in closets," Ace continued miserably, "and now I just can't seem to escape this one." 

Erik stayed silent after that and rubbed Ace's hand reassuringly. 

"How about we head over to WheatFields," Erik decided. "I'm feeling like waffles. And you need to finish dressing before that can happen."

Ace gently lifted Lola off his lap, and it gracefully leapt to the floor. He opened the front door to let Lola out, but the cat surprised him by jumping back onto Ace's place on the couch and curling up in the warm spot he left behind.

Huh. This cat kept surprising him. Now all of a sudden Lola was a house cat, not a porch stray. He made a note to pick up some proper cat food and a dish on his way back. 

"Well, looks like someone wants to stay at least," Erik observed, nodding toward the comfortable cat.

Yeah. It's a start, I guess.

They snagged a great seat by the front window at WheatFields Bakery so they could watch the Sunday crowds strolling by. 

"So back to the topic at hand," Erik announced as he tucked into his grilled portabella sandwich. "Dr. McDonnell. You like him? Aside from the closet thing? And the running away? There's something to like?"

"There's lots to like," Ace said. "He makes me feel..." he trailed off. He makes me feel. Haven't done that in months.

"So, next question: Do you think he's worth it? All this heartache you're feeling right now, the hiding away from the world that you'd have to do if you want to see him again?"

Ace paused. Was he? At times Ace was ready to believe all the impossible dreams could happen with Paul. And then the morning came. 

"He might be," he said finally. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough to go through another Cameron if Paul turns out to be not strong enough in the end."

"Well, if he turns out to be another Cameron, he'll have to answer to me," Erik said fierce and low.

Ace's throat tightened suddenly. Erik was such a good and loyal friend, offering to take on anyone who bruised Ace's heart. He wanted Paul to be the one to fight for him, to be with him. Instead, Ace was going to be the one fighting to help keep the world at bay if he decided to let Paul back in.

He looked out the window to let that tightness ease. Just as he looked up, he spotted his Web site architect strolling by. 

Ace ducked his head down to avoid eye contact, but Tanner had clearly already seen him and stopped until Ace looked up again.

"Hmph, speaking of men who are hot for you," Erik muttered. He gave his student worker an acknowledging wave, which was all the encouragement Tanner needed to come to their table.

Ace gritted his teeth, bracing himself for more innuendo and body critique. 

"Hey boss," Tanner said, giving Ace a sly, sidelong smile. "Ace. Good to see you again."

Ace nodded briefly and cursed his weakness for free blowjobs.

"It's funny that I spotted you here," Tanner continued. "You still owe me some photos, you know."

"I remember, yes," Ace said. "And I have some. Just need to get them off my camera."

"I could stop by your house when you're ready to get them off," Tanner nearly purred. "Then we could take care of everything all at once. Maybe even hit the gym like we talked about."

Erik rolled his eyes covertly. Ace fought the urge to giggle.

Ace's phone blessedly rang before he had to invent an excuse. He didn't recognize the number, but at this moment he didn't care. 

"I'll send over the photos I have so far when I get home," he told Tanner. "I'd better take this." He smiled faintly as a goodbye and stepped outside to take the call.

"Hey Ace, it's Holly," Steven's fiancé chirped. "How are those weary bones?"

Ace was glad to hear her happy voice.

"Oh, it's all good. All my bones are good," Ace said, putting on his flirty persona. "Ask anyone."

"Anyone in particular I should ask?" she said, all sly and knowing.

Ace started. She doesn't know. She couldn't. I mean, we just...no way. "Any hot guy you come across," he said, recovering. "It's important to get a broad sample for statistical purposes." 




Run and Hide Pt. 03



"I'll keep that in mind for my yenta duties," she said.

"Looking into a new career?"

"You're my first test subject," she said. "If it goes as well as I expect, I'll go pro and leave the precious little fifth-graders behind. Help all the gay men I meet find their soul mates."

If only it were that easy.

"More power to you, sister," Ace said. 

"So, you should come over for the open house next Sunday," she said, as if the decision were already made. "See the final transformation and then tell me all about your dream guy."

"I don't know, sweetie," he said. "You guys are going to be awfully busy getting ready for the open house, and my love life is hardly a priority on your to-do list."

"Oh please, it's my new favorite priority," she said. "All my friends are already married, so there's nobody else to play with like this."

"I'm so glad I could provide yet another service to the McDonnell-Shipley household," Ace drawled. "How is it that you aren't already somebody's fag hag?"

"I was just waiting for one who was worthy."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be. I have great plans for your love life," she announced. 

This could get sticky. He was already in too deep with Holly's future brother, and now she wanted to fix him up on dates. As if things could get more awkward.

"Oh, and don't forget, you didn't take all the awesome after photos you needed yesterday," Holly said after Ace's long pause.

Ace winced. A real reason to go. He did want to show off the transformation in Steven's house. And it would remove a reason for Tanner to keep calling him.

"You're absolutely right. I need to do that." Ace took a deep breath, preparing to re-enter the ring. "Okay. I'll stop by."

"Excellent. You know what, why don't you come over tonight, too?" she said. "We're going to burn that yard waste from yesterday and do s'mores and hotdogs and stuff. An old-fashioned campfire cookout."

Ace's sense of self-preservation kicked in just in time. He could not handle another minute having to pretend he wasn't hopelessly into Paul, who would most definitely be present. 

"I'd better get some work done here, actually," he said. "But you guys have fun with your weenie roast."

Holly sighed into the phone. "Well, it won't be nearly so entertaining without you here."

"Baby doll, if Steven already bores you like that, I would rethink your upcoming housing arrangement."

Holly laughed. "Oh, but he's good for sooo many other fun things."

If he's anything like his brother... "I have no doubt. You'll have to tell me all about them next Sunday."

"That's a promise. The open house starts at one, so Steven and I were thinking of doing lunch about that time and just monopolizing a table at a restaurant for the afternoon."

"Sounds wonderful, actually." And it did. As long as he didn't have to play pretend all afternoon and hold himself back from going down on Paul under the table. If he was there. Which he hoped didn't happen. Or possibly not. 

"So it's Steven's house just before one, then on to the Gaf," she confirmed. "We'll get your love life straightened out."

They both paused, then said in unison, "So to speak."

Ah, he liked her. But could he really be friends with her without losing himself in Paul?

And did he even want to?

He returned to the table where Erik was, he was relieved to see, alone. 

"Looks like we'll have to interrupt our regular Sunday programming next week," Ace said as he sat down. "Work calls."

Erik frowned. "I thought you don't work on Sunday. I thought it was your thing."

"I was presented with a compelling reason."

The frown remained. "Does this have anything to do with your escape artist?"

Ace started. "How did –" he stopped himself. "With luck, he won't be there anyway," he said dismissively.

"Mm-hmm." Erik was unconvinced. He fixed Ace with a steady look.

Ace stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"So, you don't want him to show up."

"I'm still incredibly pissed with him," Ace protested. "My anger has barely begun to cook."

"Mm-hmmm."

Ace took a defiant bite of waffles.

Erik sighed and dug into his meal. "Well, for those of us keeping a tally, you now have two hot guys after you."

"Oh yes," Ace drawled. "Envy me. It is to envy. I'm not in three kinds of hell here or anything."

"At the very least, you should tell Tanner where you stand," Erik said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were keeping him on the hook in case you need an emergency fuck buddy."

"No!" Ace squeaked, a little too quickly. "Well," he hedged, "would that be so very awful?"

Erik shook his head. "Greedy, greedy, greedy."

Chapter 9

Sunday evening, Paul made the trip to Kansas City once again to help dispose of the yard waste he helped to create the day before at Steven's house. 

Technically, his presence wasn't required for this activity. In fact, it might be a more romantic night for Steven and Holly without him there. But after spending the long afternoon pacing around his condo until he was ready to crawl out of his skin, Paul needed to get out of there.

What a mess he had made of things with Ace. He had wanted to extricate himself carefully, leaving the door cracked open for future encounters. Instead, he had exploded through that door, leaving it in tatters. And he couldn't stop seeing Ace's fallen, disappointed face. 

It all came down to cowardice, the enemy of his life since he first realized that girls didn't hold the expected kind of interest for him. 

And, worse, he felt all alone in this struggle that he was fighting against himself. Alone by his own design, of course, but that didn't negate the empty feeling of not being able to talk to anyone about this.

Maybe if Ace would ever speak to him again, they could talk about these things. That is, if Paul was able to keep his hands to himself once they were in the same room.

Not a likely scenario. 

By the time he got to Steven's house, his brother and Holly had already started feeding branches into the small fire pit on the back patio. Given the size of the burn pile and the size of the fire area, this was going to take a while.

"Hey, bro," Steven called. "Perfect timing. Can you start breaking up some of those larger branches into burnable lengths? I need to go get the saw to work on the thickest ones."

"On your way inside, you can put these in the fridge." Paul handed Steven a six-pack of Boulevard beer, his standard hostess gift.

"Ah, that's my big brother." Steven patted him on the back in a manly fashion and headed inside.

Paul bent down to pick up some branches, and he felt a light smack on his butt.

"Hey cutie," Holly grinned.

"Hey yourself," he smiled. "You're smacking the wrong brother's ass, you know."

"Well, you guys share some DNA, so my hand must have gotten you confused."

"I can't tell you how many girls have told me that."

"How many girls tell you what?" Steven returned with cutting tools.

"About the power of the McDonnell ass," Holly said.

"Oh, well, yeah," Steven shrugged. "Nothing like a powerful ass."

You have no idea, Paul thought, his mind shifting directly to Ace's delectable backside. And you need to keep having no idea.

"Babe, why don't you go get the food that we're going to roast," Holly said. "Paul and I will keep the fire going."

"This feels backward, anthropologically speaking," Steven frowned comically. "Building fire is man's work, woman."

"Yeah, about that," Holly said. "Get used to things being backward."

"Hmpf. Okay," Steven said. "But only because everything feels so good backwards." He waggled his eyebrows and jogged back into the house.

"Did I just learn something about your sex life with my little brother?" Paul asked.

"Depends on how good you are at reading between the lines," she said, throwing more twigs into the flames.

"Truly, no more talk about my brother and sex," Paul pleaded. "There are things you just don't want to know about family members."

Holly brushed her hands onto her jeans and sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs to take up the rest of her supervisory role in the burning of shrubbery. 

"Fine. Then let's talk about your sex life."

Paul fought a blush. He wanted to say, 'what sex life?' which usually would be exactly accurate. But not lately.

"By all means," Paul said with a bravery he didn't feel.

After checking that Steven was out of sight and earshot, Holly turned to Paul and fixed him with an unblinking stare.

"I know," she announced.

Paul frowned and shook his head. "Know what?"

"About you."

Her Cheshire cat smile was starting to irk him. "Can you be more specific?"

She leaned far back in her seat to make sure Steven was out of range. "You're gay, aren't you?"

Paul felt the blood drain completely from his face, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Why in the world would you say that?"

"Ace," she said simply.

He was instantly, irrationally furious. Had Ace said something to Holly while they were decorating the house yesterday – while Paul had been sweating outside? Was Ace really that guy?

"Did Ace –" He cut himself off before he gave away more. But it was too late. Holly's triumphant look told him the jig was up.

"I knew it!" she whispered excitedly. "I mean, it was written all over your faces at lunch!"

Paul swallowed with difficulty. "So Ace didn't tell you or anything?"

"No!" Holly said, sounding offended. "I'll have you know my gaydar is the gold standard. I could just tell."

Paul scanned his periphery for Steven, then leaned in toward Holly. "How long have you known? About me, I mean?"

Holly was taken down a peg. "Well, just since Ace. It was the way you looked at him."

That brought a small measure of relief. At least he hadn't been careless before Ace had made him lose all control over his rules. 

"So, you didn't have any suspicions before?" he asked carefully. 

"That you were gay? Are you kidding? I mean, it's not like I've seen you date at all, but you've either got a mild case of gayness or you're the most carefully closeted guy I've ever seen."

Paul quirked an eyebrow. "Gold standard gaydar, huh?"

"Hey! Cut me a break already! The only other guy I usually see you around is your brother." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And I'm feeling an ewww coming on at the implications of that."

"All right," Steven called out, his hands full of platters and baskets. Paul jumped up from his seat and away from the heart-racing conversation he was having with Holly.

"We've got brats, fat-free turkey dogs for you, my dear, and the requisite marshmallows, graham crackers and Hershey bars," Steven said. 

"In other words, health food," Paul said, stepping forward to take some of the food.

"Exactly."

Holly took the rest of the food from his arms. "Sweetie, can you go get us some drinks now? I believe I saw Paul walk in with beer. And can you make me some iced tea? Pretty please?"

"That was my next stop, yes." Steven pecked her on the lips and returned to the house.

Paul stabbed some meat on skewers and kept his eyes away from Holly's, trying to forestall any further uncomfortable conversation. It didn't work.

"So, was I right about Ace, too?"

"You mean that he's gay?" Paul asked with fake disinterest. "I'm pretty sure he made that clear up front."

"No, damn it," she huffed. "About you and Ace. There was a thing between you yesterday at lunch. Did something happen?"

Man, what didn't happen. There was no use hiding this; Holly was proving to be frightfully good at coming to the right answer without showing her work.

"Yes," he sighed.

"At lunch?" she persisted.

"And after. And before, actually."

"Really," Holly drew out. "Before? As in before yesterday or just before lunch?"

"Before yesterday. I'd met him last week at a place called Sparks here in town."

"But you didn't seem like you –" Holly let this sink in. "Oh, honey. That must have just thrown you to see him again."

"To say the least, yes." Paul was gratified to hear how quickly Holly understood how awkward it had been for him. 

"You know, I invited him here to our weenie roast," she said. 

Paul sat up straighter in his chair. "Is he –"

"No. Said he had things to do." She tilted her head to look at him. "Are you disappointed? Or not?"

"Both," Paul admitted. "I don't know. Things are kind of a mess there. My mess, not his."

"Because you're not out?"

"In a nutshell."

"Well, you could always –"

"Not an option."

Holly opened her mouth to say more, but she spotted Steven returning with the drinks and trotted over to help him.

Paul poked at the fire with one of the tree branches and watched as the flames spurted higher. Easy as that, isn't it? You could always come out. You could always turn everything upside-down and see if it all falls to shit.

"Oh, you know what, babe?" Holly lightly touched Steven's arm. "We're going to need napkins and plates and stuff. And maybe some condiments. Ooh, and the buns for the hotdogs – we need the buns."

"I'm really just a pack mule here," Steven grumbled.

"No, you're my big strong man," Holly cooed and slowly kissed him.

Steven walked back to the house with a goofy smile on his face.

Paul regarded Holly. "You use that 'big strong man' line whenever you want someone to do your bidding."

"Shhh," she chided. "I keep your secrets, you keep mine."

Oh God. She definitely needs to keep this secret. "Please do."

"It's that important?" she asked. "To be a secret, I mean?"

"Yes," he said fervently.

"Why? What are you afraid of?" Holly furrowed her brow. "Is it Steven –"

Paul cut her off. "Do NOT tell Steven," he said sharply. "Of all the people you're not going to tell, he's at the very top of the list."

Holly sat back and slowly nodded. It didn't look like she agreed with him, but Paul could tell that she was going to do as he asked. 

"What are you going to do now?" she asked kindly. "About Ace? About other things?"

"I don't know," he sighed. 

"Okay. Then, what do you want to do?"

Paul's mind flashed to the view from Ace's bedroom – the happy street below, Ace's cozy house and all-knowing cat. For the first time in his life, when he thought about what he wanted from a man, he didn't automatically think naked thoughts. He thought about making a home – making a life with someone. With Ace. 

Before Paul was forced to answer that loaded question, Steven returned with his latest pack of supplies.

"Will there be anything else, madam?" he asked in a bad British accent.

"That will do for now, Jeeves," Holly replied airily.

"Was Jeeves ever that sarcastic?" Paul asked.

Holly just looked at him. "Have you ever actually read Jeeves? Because clearly it wasn't very closely if you missed the sarcasm."

"Dude, eyes on the fire," Steven said to Paul. The fire in question was starting to flag thanks to inattention. "Enough book talk. It was books, right?" he checked with his fiancé. "The Jeeves thing?"

"Good catch, honey." Holly kissed him sweetly.

Paul felt a sudden pang of unfocused jealousy. Not of Steven or Holly specifically, but of what they had. Would he ever be able to sit around a fire pit with his brother and Holly and just casually lean over to kiss Ace? 

And it was always Ace in all these new, fuzzy dreams he had now – not just "some guy." All "guys" have been replaced by only Ace in his future hopes. 

Now that Holly had run out of chores for Steven to do, they settled down into the business of roasting and eating and maintaining the fire. 

It was a perfect night for sitting outside and making a little campfire. The cloudless sky revealed a faint cover of stars, and the late spring air was just cool enough to make the fire a welcome addition to the party. 

The only thing marring it for Paul was that he was once again relegated to third wheel status. More than ever, his solitary life rubbed him the wrong way, especially since he'd had a taste – a sniff – of what else he could have. 

When they had all finished their meals, Holly sent Steven inside once more for trash bags. 

"Okay, but next time, I expect some assistance," Steven said sternly, but smiling.

Once Steven was safely out of range, Holly returned to their parallel conversation, just as if no time had passed.

"Okay. Not telling Steven. Gotcha," she nodded. "I think you're underestimating him, though."

"For now, I'll stick with my original estimates," Paul mumbled.

"And what are you going to do about Ace?"

"Well, that's a little sticky."

"Um, ew."

Paul smacked her lightly on the arm. "Not like that." He considered it. "Well, maybe a little –"

Holly slugged him back. Harder. 

"I don't know," Paul said, serious again. "I don't know if he will even look at me again after how I ran out this morning."

"It was bad?"

"There was a witness."

Holly winced in sympathy. Then she patted his leg. "I'll do some investigating on your behalf. We'll fix it."

Paul's fear sensors kicked up a notch. "Miss Shipley," he said slowly, "what are you –"

"Hang on," she interrupted. She pulled out her phone and quickly sent a text. "We need refills. It will keep him inside a little longer."

"Ace is coming to the open house next Sunday," Holly said, picking up the conversation again. "I'll get to the bottom of things."

That sounded innocent enough, but Paul was still a little wary. "How very sixth grade of you. 'Ask Jennifer to ask Cody if Bobby thinks I'm cute,'" he said in a high voice.

"Don't mock the time-honored ways of the yenta," Holly said solemnly.

Her phone trilled with a new text alert. "Steven says, 'stop texting me around,'" she said with affection. "And he says you need to stoke the fire."

"Bossy little brother," Paul muttered with a smile.

He put more wood on the fire and sat back in his lounge chair. "You know, it feels good to talk about this," he said. "I've never been able to tell anyone before."

Holly reached over and took his hand in her smaller one. "You can call me absolutely any time, babe," she said. "I'm so lucky to be getting you as a big brother, and I want to be there for you."

Tears pricked at Paul's eyes. "Ah, if only I went for girls," he sighed. "I would have stolen you away from Steven, brotherhood be damned."

"What was that?" Steven called out. Paul stiffened. What had he heard exactly? 

"Brotherhood be damned, huh?" Steven continued.

"Paul is regretting not stealing me away from you," Holly said. Paul felt a surge of gratitude for his new confidante. 

"As if there would be a contest," Steven scoffed. "I'm clearly prettier."

"And in more need of someone to crack the whip," Paul retorted.

"That too," Steven said, plopping himself down in the chair next to Holly. "Okay, folks. This pack mule is done for the night. Any more fetching is up to you."

Holly smiled at him. "Such rewards for you tonight, love," she purred.

Paul cleared his throat. "Do I need to make myself scarce?"

"Are you kidding? You're doing the rest of the cleanup, lazyass," Steven said. "Jeeves has retired for the evening."

"Tell Paul about that client call you got this morning," Holly prompted.

Steven launched into a spirited telling of the latest of his Stupid Client Encounters, and Paul settled into his chair to listen.

This night – this comfortable night by an outdoor fire, watching the stars pop out of the sky and listening to Steven's tales of woe from his work – this was what Paul was so scared of losing if he came out.

The question he now faced was if gaining Ace was worth sacrificing these moments.

*****

A week later – seven visits from Lola, two texts from Tanner, three calls from Erik and absolutely nothing from Paul – Ace drove to Steven McDonnell's open house to take the last of his after photos. 




Run and Hide Pt. 03



He was equally eager and terrified of the thought of seeing Paul there. From the short time he'd known these brothers, it was clear that wherever he saw Steven, he would see Paul. But after the disastrous morning after a week ago, Ace didn't know if he'd ever see Paul again – except in his fevered dreams. 

He managed pretty well to keep thoughts of Paul out of his head during his waking hours – well, managed to yell at his brain every time those rogue thoughts popped up. Which was pretty damn often.

But at night, his subconscious seized control and let him live out every impossible fantasy, hear every sweet word Paul would never say out loud. At least not in front of people. 

Still, as he pulled off the highway and navigated to Steven's house, Ace was looking forward to seeing Holly and her fiancé. It hadn't taken long at all for Holly to make herself comfortable in his life, and Ace found he welcomed the intrusion. Even after a year in his new town, he didn't really hang out with many people apart from Erik and the Olive and Vince tag team very infrequently. It would be nice to expand his circle of friends to include Holly and Steven.

Which was insane, of course. Being friends with even just Holly meant that he would be automatically thrown in the way of Paul, who tended to bolt whenever there were witnesses. How many times could he let himself get hurt like that?

Apparently at least one more time. He pulled into Steven's driveway and braced for the sight of Paul.

Holly opened the door at his knock with a big, cat-who-ate-the-canary grin on her face. 

"It's the magician!" she beamed. "Come and see what you have wrought."

"There's been something wrought?" Ace joked. "You should put some ice on that."

In the foyer he was hit with the melting aroma of fresh chocolate chip cookies. It was an old realtor trick – but it was highly effective. 

"Smells like David is here," he said.

"Chocolate chip cookies are my signature odor?" A trim, brown-haired man appeared from the kitchen, wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. "Well, that explains some things."

"It just means you're very good at your job," Ace said. "Fresh baking is an easy means of seduction."

David gave him a head-to-toe appraisal and smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ace cleared his throat and pulled his camera out of his pocket. "Better get my shots." He turned to Holly. "Lead the way?"

They started in the master bedroom, the farthest room from the kitchen. Holly had clearly been shopping. The bed featured a cerulean comforter and artfully arranged pillows, and new coordinating artwork filled the wall across from the doorway.

"Someone's been busy," he said. "I love what you've added in here. That is absolutely my favorite shade of blue."

"I just love having an excuse to shop," she sighed. "And you called new bedding an investment. I'm going to keep trying that one on Steven to see if he falls for it."

Ace took a number of photos from different angles and moved to the next room.

"So," Holly said, sidling up to him. "Did you catch that look from Realtor Dave?"

Ace rolled his eyes briefly. "Yes, bubbe. That seems to be his typical look for me."

"Not your type, right?"

"Not exactly, no," Ace said. "I mean, he's a great guy and definitely cute. But he's not for me. And I'm not sure how to tell him that without upsetting him and causing him to stop sending me work. So I'm sticking with my policy of feigning ignorance."

"Does that work?"

"For now. Eventually I'll have to show proof of a boyfriend to keep him at bay."

"And that's where I come in." Holly bounced with excitement. 

"Yes, one of my legion of yentas," Ace smiled.

"Um, president of the legion of yentas, thank you very much," Holly said.

They moved to the guest bathroom, and Ace froze at the sight of the room. The last time he'd been in there, he was trying to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest while Paul did wicked things with Ace's dick.

"You okay, sweetie?" Holly touched his arm and looked at him closely.

He shook his head to clear it. "That's a good candle for this room," he changed the subject. "Very vanillay."

He snapped more photos, trying to stay on task, but the room had reminded him that Paul might pop up in any of the next rooms. He didn't dare ask Holly if her future brother was planning to join them because it might give something away. Why should the interior designer be asking about the client's brother? A sharp-eyed matchmaker like Holly would definitely pick that up.

And while he didn't agree with Paul's closet policy, he wasn't going to be the one to give away his secret.

Ace escaped the scene of his hot, dark encounter and bumped into Steven in the hallway.

"Hey, you made it!" Steven shook his hand vigorously. "What do you think?"

"You guys have been remarkable," Ace said. "It's really impressive."

"Man, this is all you," Steven said. "If David hadn't recommended you, I would have just, you know, vacuumed and made my bed and called it done."

"I hate to break it to you, but your work isn't done yet," Ace said.

Steven's face fell. "Seriously, we've painted every wall in this place. There can't be anything more to do," he wailed.

"I meant the vacuuming. The cleaning. You're going to have to keep this place this clean for a while to come," Ace said. "Barring any selling miracles, it needs to stay ready for a showing at all times."

Steven's face cleared somewhat, until he considered the implications of that statement.

"Don't worry," Holly said, linking her arm with Steven's. "It will be good honey-do practice."

"Lord preserve me," Steven sighed with a smile.

"Whipped," David whispered in Ace's ear. Ace startled at the sound. Even without Paul here, he kept tripping over awkwardness.

"Let's keep going," Ace said to Holly, ignoring the lingering look David gave him. "Living room, then down to the man cave."

After finishing the interior shots, Ace took in every angle of the transformed front yard. There should be more than enough photos to keep Tanner off his back.

"All right, let's hit the road," Steven announced behind him. "David says it's time to clear out."

"I'm riding with Ace, sweetie," Holly said. "And don't you need to get gas in your car, too?"

"Right as always," Steven said, kissing her cheek. "See you guys at the Gaf."

"What is a gaf?" Ace asked. 

"The best Irish pub in town," Steven said. "Babe, get our usual table, okay?"

With Holly buckled into the seat next to him, Ace turned onto Wornall Avenue. He turned to her to speak, but she beat him to it.

"So, my future brother is gay," Holly said conversationally. 

Ace twisted the steering wheel sharply, earning an angry honk from a car in the next lane. "Whoa! What? That's your opening?"

"What?" she said, all innocent. "We have limited time here. And am I wrong? Do you have proof otherwise?"

"Do you have proof in the first place?" Ace countered.

"My world-class gaydar."

"Really," he said flatly. "Your gaydar has been rated and everything?"

"Yep."

"Huh. How wasted on you."

"I consider it a valuable resource."

"Of course. Terribly valuable for a straight woman to be able to identify gay men instantly."

"You know I'm right," she insisted.

"Fine. I concede the point. Your gaydar is invaluable."

"Not that," she said. "Though, yes. About Paul, I mean. He's gay."

"If that's what your gaydar says, who am I to argue?" She was not going to trick him into giving away Paul's secret.

Holly looked at him, while he kept his eyes on the traffic. "That's it? That's your only comment? My wickedly hot brother plays for your team, and this is all I get?"

"Yup."

Holly huffed out a breath and scowled comically. "Okay, fine. It's more than my gaydar. I know for a fact."

"He told you? Or did you guess?"

"I guessed, and then he told me." She crossed her arms loudly. "You could have been nicer about my instincts."

Well, it's a start. He's told someone. Although Ace doubted Paul would have broached the subject if Holly hadn't been pulling it out of him tooth by tooth. 

"What else did he tell you?" Ace asked carefully.

"I know about you, too. About the two of you."

"How much detail did he use?"

"Not nearly enough. I had to fill in all the yummy parts on my own."

"Poor you."

"He also said he feels terrible about how he left things."

"Uh-huh." Ace was unconvinced. "I could tell how bad he feels. Dozens of phone calls, forgive-me flowers, all sincere and apologetic. I've been overwhelmed, really."

"I know, he's doing it wrong. He knows it too." Holly grimaced and looked out the window. "I wish this didn't have to be such a big damn secret. But he's pretty adamant about it."

"Tell me about it," Ace muttered. "How much farther is it to this place?"

"About six long blocks."

They rode in silence for a while.

"It's just that –" Ace paused, searching for the right words. "I'm not a hider. Never have been. Once I was sure I was gay, I let people know, even if it hurt in the short term. And now I'm supposed to hide an essential part of me for this guy?"

"Be patient with him," she said softly. "He's such a wonderful man with this big, beautiful heart. You haven't known him as long as I have. He's worth it. Trust me."

"Closet cases, in my experience, are not worth the heartache," Ace said, his voice tightening with bitterness. "I've survived that ride already, thanks. I don't want to deal with another one." He pulled into a space in the small parking lot next to the Gaf and hopped out of his truck. 

Holly jogged around the truck to take Ace's arm. "Look, you know we can't talk about this around Steven," she said, "but don't give up on Paul. He's like a house with good bones. I'm sure you could make a big difference with him."

"Just what I need, another fixer-upper," Ace said. "I just finished my house, and now I need to work on Paul."

"Oooh, tell me about your house!" Holly's serious, imploring demeanor changed instantly into giddy excitement. "I can just imagine how much fun it must be!"

Ace held open the heavy wooden door for her. "Just what poor Steven wants to hear. More design talk."

From the bright early June Sunday afternoon, they stepped into a different country, even a different climate. The Gaf looked like it was imported directly from Ireland, fully built, every nail authentic. Deep cherry wood lined the floors, the walls, the booths, even the barstools, and faces of long-dead Irishmen stared down at them from the artwork on the walls. A brick fireplace in the center of room crackled with a welcoming fire that was out of place with the warmth of the season outside, but perfectly at home in this space. 

Around the bar, old men monitored both the Gaelic hurling game on the television and their world-altering conversations with each other. Ace could tell without asking that those customers were as much a part of the fixtures here as the light bulbs and the Guinness, and just as necessary to the Gaf's charm. 

"Good afternoon to you, my lovely!" A white-haired, ruddy-faced man with a thick Irish accent swept Holly into a hug as soon as she stepped into the room. "And who's this strapping lad?"

"John, this is my friend Ace," she said. "This is his first time to the Gaf, so you must make him love it."

"Sure and that's the only option, isn't it?" John shook Ace's hand firmly. "If you're friends with this one, you'll not have much choice about coming here, I'll wager."

"Sounds good to me," Ace said happily. "I officially already love this place."

"And you haven't even had the loaded pub chips yet," Holly said. 

"I'll go fetch you an order straight away," John said. "You'll be taking your regular booth?"

"Steven would never know where to find us if we didn't," Holly said. 

"Ah, there's truth in that. I'll pour him a stout while I'm at it." With that, John scampered to the kitchen.

Ace turned to Holly. "No kidding, I love this place. He's fantastic. Those walls are fantastic. That fire is fantastic!"

"I'm so glad," she said. "One of the perks of marrying a McDonnell is that I'm marrying the Gaf as well."

They settled into a tall, comfortable booth, and they both let out a satisfied sigh simultaneously.

"I could live here," Holly sighed.

"If I hadn't just finished my house, I'd drag all my stuff here today," Ace said.

"Your house!" Holly exclaimed. "That's right! Tell me all about your fabulous house!"

"Somebody's house is better than mine? Blasphemy." Steven slid into the seat next to Holly and gave her a loud, wet kiss on the cheek.

"Obviously, Ace's is going to be better than everybody's," Holly explained.

"Well, I'll grant you that."

John appeared with a steaming plate of thick-cut fries loaded with sour cream, chives and cheese, as well as a glass of Guinness for Steven.

"Mr. McDonnell, how are you my boy?" John asked.

"Better now," Steven said. "Always better in here."

"Ace, I'm going to be rude and order for you," Holly announced. "You have to try the shepherd's pie. It's required."

"Ah, she's right at that, lad," John said. "It's the best in Kansas City or I'll eat my hat."

"Let's do three pies then, John," Steven said.

Ace sat back, content to let his new friends initiate him into the ways of the Gaf without much input from him. It reminded him of the early days of his friendship with Olive and Vince back in Baltimore - the way they acted with him, the light teasing, the comfortable atmosphere. Ace definitely wanted to keep this friendship going.

Throughout their delicious meal, Holly's phone chirped with periodic text notices, and her fingers flew over the tiny keyboard to return them.

While Holly tapped away on her phone, Steven pulled out his wallet and extracted a piece of paper.

"Here," he said. "I want to make sure you get paid for your extra work on my house."

"Oh, no," Ace said, pushing the check back to Steven. "David has already paid me."

"Yeah, but I know how much you were sweating last week, and you didn't have to do any of that," Steven said. "Dave said I didn't need to do this, but I want to."

"Well, thank you," Ace said, folding the check and tucking it into his pocket. "I appreciate this."

"It's worth every penny," Steven said. "Besides, I don't like it when people take advantage of a friendship to get free labor, you know?"

Ace smiled and nodded. Yep, definitely keeping these people as friends.

"People are always trying to do that to Paul," Steven continued. "Trying to weasel free massages or full-out chiropractic work without offering to pay. Drives me nuts."

Ace swallowed hard, thinking of the free massage Paul insisted on giving him. "I bet he gets that a lot."

Steven drained the last drops of his drink and sighed. "Time to break the seal." With that, he headed toward the bathroom.

When he was out of sight, Holly leaned across the table. "Paul is stopping by. Just a heads up."

"Stopping by here? Now? Like right now?"

"Like soon. Like he's on his way."

Ace narrowed his eyes. "Was this your idea, matchmaker?"

Holly's eyes slid to the left. "Sort of. I might have hinted. There might have been subtle innuendo in my recent texts."

Ace sighed. "Well, my day isn't complete without a dash of awkward. Awesome."

Holly grasped his hand across the table. "Give him a chance. Please. For me."

"Okay," he conceded. "For you."

Steven had just returned from the bathroom and resumed his seat next to Holly when his face lit up. Ace knew without looking that Paul had arrived.

"Hey bro!" Steven called out. "You just can't get enough of us, can you?"

"Clearly," Paul said, his voice low and rumbling and perfect. He turned to Ace and caught his eye. "Ace. Good to see you again."

Ace nodded, not trusting his voice. Good to see me again? Since you sprinted away from me? Jackass.

"Sit, sit," Holly instructed. Paul smoothly slid into the seat next to Ace, and Ace shifted to make room for him.

Ace's body tensed with the sensation of being so close to Paul again, as if his molecules were on high alert from sharing the same air space. 

"Working hard at your open house, I see," Paul teased his brother.

"Listen, Mr. 'I Hire a Cleaning Service for my Condo,'" Steven lectured, "we were up until the wee hours getting that joint ready. Do not speak to me of working hard."

John stopped by the table to greet Paul and take his drink order, and Holly took that as her cue.

"I hate to run out on you just after you got here, Paul, but Steven and I have a long list to accomplish today," Holly said. She pushed Steven out of the booth and scooted out after him. 

"We do?" Steven asked, perplexed. "But Paul just got here. We do?"

"It's Sunday," she said slowly. "The busiest day of our week. I require your presence at various retail establishments."

"That sounds serious," Steven said, furrowing his brows. 

"Deadly. Let's go!" she chirped. "Paul, always lovely. Ace, we need a visit to your house next, I think. I'll want to steal some ideas for our new place."

"Oh, Steven, I apologize in advance," Ace said. 

"Nonsense," Holly said, kissing his cheek. "You are nothing short of remarkable, and that means your house is, too. I'm sure of it. Bye, you guys!"

She left, tugging Steven behind her and leaving Ace and Paul in awkward silence.

"She's right, you know," Paul said finally. "About your house. It is remarkable."

"You should have told her that," Ace said. "Not that you could. Or would. Gives too much away, doesn't it?"

Paul cleared his throat and looked away. Ace felt bad for snapping like that when all Paul did was pay him a compliment. But the sight of him recalled all those hurt feelings from last week, and Ace didn't want to let him off the hook too quickly.

Ace took another drink of his tea as Paul fidgeted in his seat on the bench next to him. Ace could tell he was uncomfortable sitting next to him instead of across the table. 

"Missing your beard?" Ace asked.

Paul looked puzzled and ran his hand across his facial hair.

Ace grinned despite himself. "I mean the heterosexuals," he said quietly.

Paul's hand dropped to his lap and he looked down. 

"Look," Paul said, quickly darting out of his seat and planting himself across the table. "I want to apologize for last time. For how I left, I mean. Not for the stuff that came before."

"Yeah, what the hell happened there at the end?"

"I panicked," Paul said. "Thought I'd be seen at your house and recognized."

"Because of all the paparazzi stalking my place?" Ace snarked. "I'm not exactly famous."

"Yeah, but you live there and people who know you know that you're..." he trailed off.

"Are you accusing me of being overly fabulous?" That's all it takes to freak him out? Man, this problem of his is serious.

"Panic is not rational, grasshopper."

"Grasshopper, huh? Seems like you're the one who needs a tutor," Ace said. He leaned over the table and whispered, "A gay sensei?"

Paul cocked his head. "You applying?"

Ace pulled back. "Don't know about that."

"Give me another chance. Please."

"That's exactly what Holly told me," Ace said. 

"She's a busy little bee these days."

"I'll say." Ace blew out a breath and looked closely at Paul through their silence. "What do you have in mind, then?"

"A ballgame," Paul said quickly. "Holly gave me these amazing tickets. Diamond Club seats at Kauffman Stadium. Thursday night. Royals and Red Sox."

Ace winced. "Ouch. They're gonna get murdered."

"More than likely," Paul smiled. "But there's always the possibility of a miracle."

"A baseball game," Ace said slowly. "That's about the straightest gay date you could dream up."

"Not true. There's always Nascar at the Kansas Speedway."




Run and Hide Pt. 03



Ace shuddered. "Point taken."

"Not a sports fan, then?" Paul asked, concerned.

"I've played," Ace said. "More into track and field, though. I did baseball and soccer for a while when I was a kid. I'll be able to follow along with the big boys, don't worry."

"So that's a yes?" Paul's face was filled with hope.

Ace sighed and took a deep breath. "That's a yes."

Paul's face filled with a big, stupid grin. He impulsively reached for Ace's hand across the table and squeezed – until his brain caught up with what he was doing. He pulled back sharply, and Ace bit out a sigh.

"One of these days, maybe you could actually bring yourself to touch a man in public," Ace said. "In a way that doesn't involve a manly punch."

Paul looked down. "I really hope so," he said softly.

They finished their drinks, and Paul threw down some bills to cover their tab and called out a farewell to John. As they both reached the door to leave, Paul hesitated for just a moment then reached out to hold the door open for Ace.

"See?" he said as he gestured for Ace to precede him. "Baby steps."

Chapter 10

On Thursday, Paul drove to Ace's house with a stomach threatening to rebel. He'd never been so nervous before a date.

Then again, when was the last time he'd gone on a proper date? High school? Maybe that one time freshman year in college? Always with a girl, and even then, he knew there wasn't really anything to be nervous about. And with the men in his life – the flings, the dark corner guys – it was never a date.

It's a baseball game, you moron. Your team, your game. Your turf. This should be a breeze.

Right. A breeze. A breeze to sit next to Ace in a crowd of people and not touch him the way he longed to. A breeze to not give in to his fear and act like an asshole straight guy around this man he wanted to impress. 

Breezy. 

He pulled up to Ace's crayon explosion of a house and sat in the car for a moment to gather his nerve.

"Baby steps," he muttered to himself.

He rang Ace's doorbell, but it wasn't Ace who answered it.

The redhead who appeared in the door looked familiar, but Paul couldn't quite place him. 

This new guy fixed Paul with a shrewd, evaluating look. He didn't look especially happy to see him.

"You must be Paul," the redhead said.

"Yeah," Paul said, confused. "Who are you?"

"The watch dog. I'll go fetch your date." He left Paul standing on the front porch.

Watch dog? What the hell?

Ace arrived quickly after that, and Paul's confused frustration melted instantly. He gave Ace an appreciative, head-to-toe look and smiled.

"Hey," Ace grinned. "You've met Erik?"

"Sort of," Paul grunted.

"Well, Paul, Erik. Erik, Paul," Ace said quickly. "Thanks for your help, Erik. I'll call you later."

"Can't wait," Erik trilled.

Paul walked Ace to his car and he managed to wait until they had both slid into their seats before speaking. "So, who is Erik?" he asked tightly.

"My best friend," Ace said. "I mentioned him, I know I did." Paul relaxed some into his seat. "I needed reinforcements and an objective second opinion," Ace continued.

"On me? I thought the girl talk came after the date."

Ace slugged his arm and they both grinned.

"He looked familiar," Paul said.

"You probably caught a fleeting glimpse of him last week as you, um, left," Ace said.

"Ah." Paul was hit with a pang of guilt. "That explains the way he was looking at me."

"I imagine he's also a little jealous. He broke up with his boyfriend last year and it's been just the two of us since then."

The two of them? "So, you're – I mean, you were-"

"Friends," Ace finished. "Just friends. Good friends."

"And you never –" Paul gulped and started over. "I mean, you're both gay, both single. Why did you never get together?"

Ace shrugged. "Same reason a straight man can be friends with a woman without dating her. Sometimes you just need a friend more." He cut a look at Paul. "Don't you have any friends? Just friends – who aren't relatives?"

Paul squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Silence reigned for a few empty minutes, and Paul's inexperience at talking to men became glaringly obvious to him. He was perfectly able to chat up a guy to lay down some innuendo, but apart from small talk, he was kind of hopeless.

Baby steps, McDonnell.

"So, tell me the story of your life," he said finally.

Ace blinked and turned to look at him. "Story of my life," he repeated flatly.

"We've got a forty-five minute drive ahead of us," Paul said. "Isn't this what people do on dates?"

"I don't know that my life has a story yet," Ace said. 

"Well, give me the cast of characters, anyway. Maybe we can build a story out of that."

The slow smile Ace gave him warmed him through to his core. Paul wished he could turn to face him fully so he could watch this story in those deep blue eyes, but he had to do the grown-up thing and drive.

"Well, once upon a time," Ace began, his voice thick with that smile, "there was a little curly haired boy named Acelin who had a sweet big sister named Sonya. They lived in a magical village called Boulder in a land called Colorado, where hippies roamed free and herds of Subarus crowded the lanes."

Paul barked out a laugh. "That's a great beginning. I already like this story."

"I don't know if I can keep this up as a fairy tale," Ace laughed.

"No ogres or villains in your story?"

Ace's smile faded a little. "Oh, everyone has an ogre or two in their past," he said lightly.

Paul didn't want anything to scare away that happy look that Ace's face had a moment ago. "Skip the ogres, then. This is still chapter one. Ogres are more of a chapter four or five thing."

"I'll do an abridged version, then," Ace said. "Mom and Dad still live in Colorado. They're both technically retired, but Dad never thought to develop any hobbies, so after The New York Times crossword puzzle is solved, he's got nothing to do all day. So he volunteers part time at a food pantry."

"That's cool," Paul said.

"Gives him something to bitch about," Ace said. "He's happiest when he's kvetching."

"I know the type," Paul grinned.

"Mom is a full-time grandma to Sonya's kids. She's busier now than she ever was when she worked in an office."

"Tell me about her kids."

"A girl and a boy. Jordan, who is eight and Walt, who is five."

"Jordan and Walt? Is Sonya a basketball fan or something?"

"Her husband is. Lucas. He's a good guy. They're all great, actually, Sonya's family. I miss them."

"Where are they?"

"Still in the magical village of Boulder. Sonya wanted me to move there when I told her I was leaving Atlanta."

Paul's gut clenched a little at the thought of never having met Ace. "Why didn't you?"

"Too close to the parents." Ace shook his head and looked out the window. "I love them and all, but proximity is not always that kind to us."

I hear that. "When did you leave home then?"

"After college. Went to Baltimore for my first job. Moved to Atlanta for another job. Moved to Lawrence a little over a year ago."

"But not for a job offer this time," Paul said. "What made you leave Atlanta if it wasn't for a new company?"

He felt Ace stiffen in the seat next to him. Paul kept brushing against the landmines.

"None of my business?" Paul guessed quietly.

"Just a story for another time," Ace said. "Gotta leave something for the sequel."

"Fair enough."

"Your turn now," Ace said. "Tell me your fairy tale."

"Awww," Paul complained. "But I had so many clever follow-up questions."

"We'll save Q-and-A for later."

"Fine. Once upon a time-"

"That won't be necessary, doc," Ace laughed.

"Let's see, what do you already know?"

"You're a chiropractor. You have a brother. You take, um, interesting vacations."

"Right. Well, you're about caught up, then."

"Nice try, McDonnell. Where are you from?"

"We McDonnells are Kansas City natives, actually. Mom and Dad moved to South Carolina a few years ago because they got tired of all the ice storms and stuff."

"Why Lawrence then?"

"I went to KU for my undergrad. Went to New York for my M.D. and then my chiropractic studies. Came back to Lawrence because I missed the town."

"So you have an M.D. and a chiropractor degree? Why aren't you doing a general practice right now?"

"I like the chiropractic stuff better," Paul says. "I told you about my mom, right? And her bad back?"

Ace furrowed his brows. "Yeah, I think you might have. My memories of that night don't have a lot of words in them."

"Just the dirty ones," Paul murmured.

Ace looked like he was trying to swallow his own lips.

"Anyway," Paul continued, "I liked making a real difference in people's pain in a very specific way. And I think having the medical degree helps make me a better overall chiropractor."

Ace nodded. "So, that's your work. And I've met your family – well, the local ones. Any secret ex-boyfriends in your story?"

"None that could be fairly called a boyfriend," Paul admitted. How sad was that? He was thirty-six and could honestly say that he'd always been alone. "What about you?" he countered. "Any exes in your fairy tale?"

Ace's smile tightened on his face. "A few."

"Are they the ogres?"

Ace kept his eyes fixed on the passing landscape and didn't respond, which gave Paul his answer. He wished Ace would feel comfortable telling him about those ogres, but he knew how hypocritical it was of him to expect one-sided openness. 

At the stadium, Paul was pleased to note Ace's shock at how close their parking passes allowed them to park. They were practically up against the building.

"I know," Paul said. "Holly is totally spoiling me with these tickets. I don't know how I'll ever live with the cheap seats again."

After a stop to buy Ace an overpriced Royals hat, they got settled in their seats a few rows behind home plate. There was a good crowd for a Thursday night, which the presence of the Red Sox surely helped to bring about, but it wasn't so crowded that they were flanked on all sides by other people. 

Sitting so close to Ace, Paul felt his insecurities getting the better of him. He felt like he was wearing a blinking sign on his head screaming, "I'm on a date! With a dude!"

"You need to unclench," Ace said, breaking the tense silence.

"You can't tell if I'm clenching or not," Paul said through his teeth.

Ace turned toward him. "When you're here with Steven, do you worry that people are thinking you're on a date?"

Paul blinked at him. "No. I guess that never occurred to me."

"I'll give you some helpful tips here, from your personal gay sensei," Ace smiled. "At sporting events, you can assume most of the guys are here on man dates, not date-dates."

"Or with their brothers."

"Exactly. But when you see two men in a romantic, candlelit restaurant, that's more date-date territory."

"Gotcha." Paul relaxed a little bit and settled into the familiar sounds and rhythms of a baseball game. He was so grateful to Ace for reading his mind like that and knowing just what to say. The more he was around this guy, the more he wanted to be around him. 

It was easy to get sucked in to the game, especially when you sat so close that you could plainly see the players' expressions. Ace wasn't exaggerating about his baseball knowledge; he coached the game just like every other guy there and jumped up with an excited roar whenever the Royals managed to move the ball out of the infield. 

Midway through the game, Ace polished off his second beer and scraped the leftover cheese from the nacho tray. He looked over at Paul with big blue eyes as he slowly licked the cheese from his finger. Paul swallowed hard and fought the urge to lean in and find something of his own to lick.

"Paul, can I ask for something a little childish?" Ace asked, licking the last bit of stray cheese from his lips. Paul bit back a groan.

"Uh, sure," he grunted.

"I know it's silly, but I need something sweet to balance out this salt and beer," Ace said. "Can you get me a cotton candy?"

Paul blinked. "Cotton candy?"

"I can't go to a ball game without it. I told you it's childish." Ace smiled and looked down. "It's easier to score some cotton when I take Sonya's kids to a game. Kids are the best candy beard."

Paul smiled warmly. "Well, I think I'm secure enough in my masculinity to buy cotton candy without a child involved. Baby steps, right?"

He flagged down their waitress and asked her to rustle up a cotton candy. She looked at the two beautiful men sitting together and caught the blush fluttering across Ace's face. Her grin twinkled at the pair of them, and Paul could tell that she didn't think this was purely a man date.

Paul leaned over to Ace to let his breath brush over his ear. "I think she figured us out."

"I don't think cotton candy is one of the gay signifiers," Ace said.

"Well, it sure ain't a straight one," Paul said in a hick accent.

Their waitress reappeared with a large bag of pink fluff and gave Paul a sweet wink as she left. Yeah, she knows. And he was surprisingly okay with that. He was now up to three people in Kansas City knowing he was gay. Baby steps. 

Ace dug into the bag of sugar with a happy grin. His strong tongue darted out to snatch pieces of the fluff, and Paul instantly felt himself harden at the sight. 

God, cotton candy does this to me now? At this rate, nothing will be safe.

"Mmmmm," Ace moaned happily. "I know this is possibly the worst excuse for food in the world, but I just love it."

That triggered a small memory in Paul's head. "Didn't you once say I was your cotton candy?"

Ace paused with his tongue just touching his treat. Understanding washed over his face. "That's right," he said, snagging another piece off the paper stick. "Sweet and sinful." Ace slid his eyes to Paul.

"And bad for you?" Paul frowned.

"Maybe it wasn't a perfect metaphor," Ace said. "Except for the sinful part."

"I don't want to be bad for you," Paul said quietly. 

Ace held his eyes for a long time; Paul wondered what he was reading in them. Wondered if he could tell how deeply he meant what he had said. Paul had been so practiced at hiding his true feelings for so long, he didn't know if he could let them rise to the surface on purpose.

"I can safely say you've graduated to hot dog, in the hierarchy of food metaphors," Ace said finally.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Hot dog, huh? Processed mystery meat on a bun?"

"I was thinking more about the long, juicy piece of beef," Ace rumbled. "A source of delicious protein, you know. Much better for me than cotton candy."

"Wow," Paul said, his words strangled by the sudden bolt of lust that returned sharply. "Good metaphor." 

Ace grinned wickedly and let his tongue tease another piece of cotton candy into his beautiful mouth.

Paul turned his eyes back to the game, trying to force the blood out of his thickening cock.

But Ace caught the bulge before he could force it back. "Yeah, that catcher does have a spectacular ass, doesn't he?" Ace whispered, leaning close. 

That came out of nowhere. "Huh?"

"Baseball players always get to me, too," Ace said quietly, careful to keep his voice from carrying. "Those tight pants and great arms. Catchers have the best legs." He let his eyes linger on Paul's lap. "Or was it the lingering effects of a good metaphor?"

"Oh." Paul swallowed thickly and leaned over. "It was your tongue."

It was Ace's turn to be confused. "My tongue?"

"That's all it takes for me," Paul said low. "Your tongue on cotton candy made me hard."

Ace blinked slowly at him and curled his mouth into a grin. He pulled off another piece of his treat and let it melt on his tongue. Paul's eyes darkened to nearly black at the sight. 

"I'll file that one away for later, then," Ace teased.

*****

By the last out of the ninth inning, the Royals were down five to two, which was exactly the ratio of beers consumed by Ace and Paul. The alcohol had made Ace all warm and mellow and a little giggly, as Paul was happy to discover. On the drive back to Lawrence, Ace let his hand idly rest on Paul's thigh as he told slightly slurred stories about some of his more unreasonable clients. 

Paul's heart filled and tightened with desire – not just for this beautiful man's body this time, but for this moment. For the hum of tires along the road, for the darkness enveloping them outside the car, for the blue glow of his dashboard playing against Ace's skin.

It was innocuous, an everyday patch of driving at night, with familiar sensory notes. Nothing particularly special about it. But it was everything Paul wanted.

It wasn't just that he wanted Ace, that he ached for him. It wasn't just that he wanted to be his boyfriend. 

He was in love with him. 

And that terrified him. Because if he fucked up again, he would lose everything.

And if there was one thing Paul was good at, it was fucking up his personal life.

Ace had apparently exhausted his supply of stories, and he lazily stared out the passenger window with sleepy, glazed eyes.

Paul didn't want the night to end, but as he approached the city limits, he reluctantly turned his car toward Ace's side of town, causing Ace to startle awake.

"No, don't take me home yet," he drawled. "I want to see your place."

Paul fought back a flash of panic as one of his most important rules crumbled before him. He'd never brought a man home before. 

"I don't want to go home yet," Ace fairly purred.

That purr made him weak. It also reminded him about his new policy of dismantling his long-standing rules.

"Okay, but if I get you within ten feet of my bed, I can't be held accountable for my subsequent actions."

Ace made a happy sound and settled back against the seat. "I was worried that might make you flee again," Ace said sleepily. "You know, being spotted with a man at your place."

Freaky little mind reader.

"Actually, I'm more worried that you'll start redecorating my boring condo." Paul wasn't entirely kidding. If Ace thought a home was a reflection of your personality, what was he going to think about that drab space?

He steered Ace up the walk and around the low shrubberies to his door. "Here it is," Paul swept his hand across the room in introduction. "My own little slice of, um, beige."

Ace's eyes took in every aspect of the room in a practiced fashion. If he was looking for personal touches, he was going to be looking a long time.

"There's not much of you here, is there?" Ace finally said.

"Well, I'm not here much," Paul said. 

"It wouldn't take a lot of work to give this place some personality, you know," Ace said. He opened the linen closet door to sniff out some blankets and extra pillows.

While he would appreciate the decorating help, Paul didn't want Ace to get into that right now. He gently took hold of Ace's hands and led him to the sofa.

"Tell me about Atlanta, Ace," he said. 

Ace blinked at the sudden segue. "What about it? The hot nightlife? The ridiculously long commutes? Coca-Cola? I can tell you all kinds of stories -"

"What happened in Atlanta?" Paul persisted. "Somebody hurt you, and I think I remind you of him."

Ace swallowed and lowered his eyes. "It's not that you look like him or anything." He looked up into Paul's eyes. "You look like something from a 1940s movie, like you aren't real. Like you're somebody people only dream about."

Paul felt the fire settle low in his belly at Ace's words. He wanted to pull Ace into his arms and share that fire between them, to spread it over their bodies and melt them together. But he needed to know about Atlanta.

"Come on," he rumbled, soft and low. "Who was he?"

Ace sighed and looked away. "He was Cameron. I'm surprised you haven't bumped into him in that deep closet you guys like to hang out in."




Run and Hide Pt. 03



Paul didn't say anything. He let the silence prompt Ace to continue. 

"He was beautiful. He was wonderful when we were alone. I couldn't believe my luck when he turned my way that first night. He was everything I could have hoped for."

Paul stomach turned in disappointment. He wanted to be everything for Ace, but what if he was still hung up on an ex?

"But he was also a Southern Baptist who loved his momma, and he's never ever going to come out of the closet." Paul saw pain flash across Ace's face, and it made his chest hurt. "It took me more than two years of hoping and disappointment to figure that out."

"You loved him," Paul said sadly. 

Ace frowned. "I don't know if you can call it love when you're the only one in it. But I thought I did. Love him, that is. It felt like love."

"But he didn't?" 

"If he loved me, he wouldn't have treated me that way," Ace said with a note of bitterness.

A bolt of anger shot through Paul. "What did he do to you?"

"It wasn't like he abused me or anything," Ace said. "Nothing dramatic like that. He was the perfect boyfriend in private then pretended he didn't know me when we saw each other in public."

Just like I did, Paul thought, deep guilt replacing his anger.

"I never got to meet his family, never brought his mom a Christmas present, never sat with him in a candlelit restaurant." Ace barked out a harsh laugh. "Here I am lecturing you on what makes a proper gay date-date, and I haven't had one in, well, almost forever." He turned to look at Paul. "You're already doing better than him, you know."

Paul felt hope rise in him. "How so?"

"Cameron would never have taken me to a ballgame. Never. And buying me cotton candy? Forget it." Ace slumped back into the couch cushions and closed his eyes.

Relief lapped at Paul's heart, but he didn't want to make any assumptions. "So, where does this leave me with you?" He was still genuinely worried that Ace would tell him goodbye once and for all. And Paul wouldn't blame him in the slightest, not after Ace had been burned by Paul's Atlanta twin.

Ace sighed deeply. "I'm trying very hard not to get hurt again." He tentatively reached over to take Paul's hand in his. "But I can't stay away from you, Paul. You've gotten in."

Paul let out the breath he'd been holding. "I love it in there. It feels like home in there."

Ace blinked sleepily at him. "Take me to bed, Paul."

And Paul did. He led Ace by the hand to his bedroom upstairs and slowly, reverently peeled the clothes from Ace's body and then his own. 

They weren't rushed, weren't frantic and desperate. This wasn't a time to conquer; it was a time to savor and feast. Paul forced himself to slow down, to taste every inch and memorize the lines and delicious paths of his lover's body. 

And when the teasing finally became too much, Paul gave in to the pulsing ache of his body and pressed slowly inside Ace.

It felt so right, so complete – he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from confessing his love at that moment. Ace wasn't the only one here who needed to protect his heart. 

Afterward, they lay together in that post-orgasmic coma, their breaths pulled rough and wet from their lungs. Paul kept his hands always touching Ace somewhere, his skin like a steadying anchor.

"So," Ace said breathlessly. "Do I need to head home now? Escape before the sun rises?"

Paul tugged Ace close and tipped his head up so he could look into his eyes.

"I don't think you know," Paul rasped, "you can't possibly know, how much I'd give up, what I'd do, what I'm willing to sacrifice, just to be with you like this. To be able to touch you like this. To feel this way. God, the things you do to me."

In response, Ace curled closer, tucking his head against Paul's neck, and breathed deeply. 

This is worth it, Paul thought. He didn't know how it was all going to fall out, but if the reward was even just one more night like this, it would be worth it.

*****

It turned into many more nights like that one over the next month. It was a month of increasingly bold baby steps – and the requisite stumbles – a month of hopeful gestures and of sweeter and hotter sex.

Friends and family took a back seat for a while as Ace and Paul learned how to be together. It wasn't just that they couldn't stop touching each other – though that certainly was the case. It was more basic than that, and so much more complex. They had to learn how to be friends and lovers at the same time. How to negotiate their needs and wants. 

And it all happened in those damn baby steps.

But at least they were steps – small steps out of that closet. Steps like Paul's clothes mixing into Ace's laundry. Or simply the fact that they spent all their time at Ace's house, the place Paul fled from on that first morning after. Ace could smell Paul all over the house, and that – more than any remodeling project – was making his house feel like home.

It took a couple of weeks for Lola to give Paul full approval, and it took multiple bribes, of course. But then one Sunday afternoon as they were sprawled on the sofa and fruitlessly trying to stave off a nap, Lola leapt up onto Ace's hip and purposefully crawled over his body to get to Paul. 

"Yeah, that's fair," Ace grumbled. "Took me months to win Lola over, and you get snuggles within two weeks."

Paul grinned that wide, melting grin at him as he stroked Lola's back. "Your cat's a good judge of character," he said.

Lola settled in next to Ace's head, which was resting on Paul's thighs, and Ace's ears were filled with the sound of contented purring.

Yeah, I'm with ya, babe, Ace thought. 'That's what he makes me do, too.

The only other outsider they allowed in to this cocoon was the one who simply muscled her way in: Holly. Ace wished he could have split himself equally in two – half of him could continue spending all his free time with Paul, while the other half could weave Holly into his other friendships.

He spared a moment of guilt when he thought of how severely he was neglecting his friendship with Erik. But the moment dissolved as soon as he heard Paul slip into a snore-filled nap.

Holly was able to sneak away from Steven for a visit to Lawrence to meet Ace's house the next Thursday. Once inside the door, she took everything in with big eyes and instantly pronounced herself in love.

"Do you think I could convince Steven to go with that shade of purple for the bedroom?" she asked excitedly, analyzing the dining room walls with a calculating eye.

Ace looked at Paul for confirmation, and then they said in unison, "No."

"Speaking of the man," Ace said, "what did you tell Steven about tonight?"

"Oh," she said, waving away the thought like a gnat, "Steven thinks I'm off with the girls. If I'd told him I was visiting you, he'd want to come along, and then we'd have to make up some outlandish story about why Paul is here." She turned to Paul, who was lounging on the sofa. "You know, it would be so much easier if you could just –"

"I know, I know," Paul said impatiently. "It's on my list. I promise." He tugged Ace down to the seat next to him and tucked him under his arm. "Just let me enjoy this calm before the shit storm a little while longer."

Mmmm. Me too, Ace thought.

For all the steps Paul had made – a couple of shopping trips in Lawrence, dinner at a sports bar in Kansas City, one furtive trip back to Sparks – he and Ace were still essentially hiding from the world. Specifically, from Paul's world. 

Ace was being patient. But his patience came with a big, blinking "don't forget" sign hanging over his head.

That night, the three friends ate Chinese food in the living room while Holly quizzed Ace about every bit of art and architecture in his house. Paul was content to let Lola walk all over him and occasionally offer bits of his lo mein to the cat's imperious requests. 

When talk switched to Holly's wedding plans, Ace sat back and let Holly fret over the details in the way a bride was wont to. He looked over to Paul, who sent him a slow, almost sleepy smile that spread all over his face and to the depths of those grey-blue eyes. It hit Ace so hard that he almost choked on his tongue.

Ace was in love with this man. 

Ho-ly crap.

It wasn't a grand gesture that brought this about. It wasn't a holiday or a rescue or a heartfelt speech. It was the sight of Paul leaning back on the sofa, Lola curled up on his lap, a smile that went all the way to his blood. He looked like he belonged in Ace's house – in Ace's life. He fit, almost effortlessly. 

Ace loved him. 

He wasn't ready to say it out loud yet. He'd been burned by that before. People tossed around those words too cavalierly, in his opinion. When he said "I love you," he wanted it to mean more than, "that was a very satisfying orgasm" or "thank you for doing what I wanted." 

And, even though it was selfish and cowardly of him, he didn't really want to be the first to say it. A relationship was a delicate balance of power, especially between two men. As soon as he said the L-word, Ace would be the one waiting for validation, for reciprocation. 

He'd been in that position before, and he didn't want to suffer in that ring of hell again.

Like Paul, he wanted to enjoy this comfortable calm for a while longer. Even if his heart was beating up a storm.

Chapter 11

It had been three weeks since Erik had seen Ace, that night he helped pick out a shirt for the big date. In that time, Erik had heard Ace's voice exactly once, when their first Sunday afternoon was canceled. He didn't even get to hear any good play-by-play after the date as he had expected. A few rushed texts with apologies and promises – that's all Ace had for him anymore.

Erik knew he should have been expecting this. A guy as hot as Ace couldn't stay single forever. But it was jarring how completely Ace had dismissed him once Paul had decided to act like a boyfriend. At the very least, Erik had thought he and Ace would talk about this new guy the way friends did.

He'd even driven by Ace's house a few times hoping he could just pop in, but that black Acura was almost always in the driveway.

It was a sorry statement about Erik's social life that the absence of one friend left him essentially alone. He couldn't even make himself seek out distractions in Kansas City – that was still Richard's territory. It was a ridiculous, self-imposed rule, but one that Erik never broke.

So he threw himself into his work and found himself still in the university's public relations office after dark on a Thursday night. In theory, he was there to supervise his Web team on a project that needed to be presented in the morning. But, really, he didn't want to be at home alone with nothing to do but stew.

Erik glanced at the clock. Nine on a Thursday night. Maybe Ace would be home alone? Surely they took nights off from each other?

He picked up his phone but hesitated on the dial button. What if they were in the middle of something? What if Ace answered the phone all out of breath and obviously mid-fuck?

Three weeks, he reminded himself. You exist too. He pressed the button. 

"What now?" Ace immediately growled.

Erik flinched. "Um, you're busy then?" he asked in a small voice.

"Erik," Ace sighed. "So sorry. Thought it was someone else."

Erik frowned. "If it's the someone I think it is, he should be working in the room next to me right now, not bugging my best friend."

"My best friend should definitely tell him that, right, best friend?" Ace said.

"You chickenshit. He seems impervious to your cunning policy of ignoring him. It's not my job to do pest control for you."

Erik could hear voices in the background – and not just that deep rumbling tone of the boyfriend.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked.

"Ah," Ace hesitated. "Not really, no. I've got some time. Haven't talked to you in a while."

No shit, Erik thought bitterly. Whose fault is that?

"Actually, that's kind of why –" Erik started. A woman's voice broke in loudly in the background.

"Hey sweetie, what's your wireless password?"

"One sec," Ace said to Erik. "No wire hangers exclamation mark, all one word," he called out to the woman.

Erik chuckled despite himself. "I thought you said that one was too gay even for you."

"I decided it was subtle enough on the gay reference quotient."

"So who was that just now?" Erik asked.

"That would be Holly," Ace said. "Paul's soon-to-be sister."

"She broke through the firewall, huh?" Erik said.

"She is hard to stop," Ace said warmly. "You'd love her."

Ruthless, irrational jealousy started whispering in Erik's head. Not only did Paul take away Ace from him, but now Ace was getting his friendship fix elsewhere too. Erik was being doubly replaced.

"Oh yeah?" Erik asked, his throat tight, trying desperately to mask his hurt.

"Yeah, we'll have to figure out a time to all get together," Ace said. "She loves playing matchmaker. I might have to sic her on you."

"Great," Erik said with false brightness. Wow, absolutely the last thing I want right now. "So, the reason I called. Can you pull yourself away from your hot chiropractor for a night so we can catch up over dinner?"

Ace paused, obviously weighing his options. Come on, don't make me beg, Erik thought.

"Um, of course, yeah," Ace said. "What works for you?"

"Tomorrow night?" Erik said tentatively. "I know it's a traditional date night, but it will leave you the rest of the weekend to crawl back into the boyfriend cocoon."

"Yeah," Ace said slowly. "Let me check with Paul real quick."

Erik heard only the muffled conversation from his end. Tanner popped his head in the door to Erik's office, and Erik silently motioned for him to wait.

"I think Friday will work," Ace said, returning to the phone. "Pick me up around six?"

Erik let out a breath. "Six will be great. And thank Paul for me – for letting you out for a night."

"Har har."

"See you tomorrow." Erik hung up and waved Tanner in. "Well, that too entirely too much effort," he grumbled.

Tanner plopped down into one of the guest chairs. "Trouble with Ace?"

"Same thing happens every time," Erik sighed deeply. "Your friend meets someone, and then disappears from the face of the Earth. Gotta move mountains to pry them apart."

Tanner leaned forward. "Oh? Ace met someone?"

"Can't blame him, really," Erik said, mostly to himself. "Super hot guy. If I'd known he was on the menu ..."

"And his name is Paul?" Tanner said casually.

A warning bell sounded in Erik's subconscious. He looked up and found Tanner eager to hear more.

"Um, yeah," Erik said.

"Yeah, I overheard you talking." Tanner put on an appropriately sympathetic face. "Sounds like Ace dumped you for this hot Paul guy."

"No, no," Erik said quickly. "We were never – I mean, it's not like we-"

"No, I get it. It feels like you're losing him, doesn't it? It actually explains a lot," Tanner murmured.

That doesn't sound promising.

"Look, Tanner," Erik began. But he stopped himself. What should he clean up Ace's mess with this student? Erik didn't need to do all the heavy lifting in this friendship.

"Um," Erik shook his head and continued, "so, what did you need?"

"Oh, right. Need you to check my pages and make sure they're good to go."

"Of course. I'll be right there."

Tanner headed back to his computer station, and Erik missed the calculating grin on the younger man's face.

*****

"Tanner Caldwell? Doctor Z is ready for you."

Tanner stood and ran his hand through his hair. He had been able to get a last-minute appointment with Dr. Paul McDonnell after laying on the charm with the perky secretary. 

Bat those eyes all you want, sweet cheeks. I don't go for breast meat.

"Thanks, babe," he winked at the blonde chick at the desk. She giggled, and Tanner fought the urge to roll his eyes. Man, chicks were so easy. It was almost a waste that he couldn't use his superior sexual power on such easy prey.

Then he caught a glimpse of his intended prey.

Well, not really a waste.

Tanner had heard most of his boss's side of a phone call with Ace, and it had been very useful. He put "chiropractor" together with the name "Paul" and came up with Dr. Z, the dude most of his intramural frat buddies went to see when they jacked up their backs.

Tanner had no idea that Dr. Sex on a Stick played for his team. It was almost enough of a temptation for him to abandon his plans with Ace.

Almost.

Just thinking of the two of them together gave Tanner half a stiffy, and he started envisioning threesomes, sucking and fucking until they all passed out.

Tanner wasn't prepared for how delicious his competition was. All that dark hair, tanned skin, sexy beard. Damn. Initially, he'd wanted to size him up and figure out how to steal Ace away from him. Now, though, he'd be happy with either guy as a consolation prize.

"Mr. Caldwell?" Dr. Z's deep, smooth voice brought Tanner back to the present. "Let's see what we can do for you today."

"Oh, I've got some ideas," Tanner cooed, and the doc gave a little start as he shut the office door behind them. "I assume I need to take this off?" Tanner asked sweetly, fingering his shirt buttons.

Paul cleared his throat and checked his chart. "You said the pain is in your lower back?"

Tanner pasted on a grimace. "Yeah, it's been like this for a couple of days. My Delta buddies said you were the guy to see."

"Okay." Paul put down his chart. "Go ahead and take off your shirt and climb up here on your stomach, please."

Tanner slid into place and made sure to wiggle his tight butt more than strictly necessary.

Dr. Z began examining his lower back, touching Tanner's bare skin with his fingertips.

"I don't suppose an appointment with you comes with a happy ending, does it, doc?" Tanner grinned.

He heard Paul clear his throat. "Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Caldwell," Paul said dryly. "All I can offer is a slight spinal adjustment."

"What a shame. A hot doc like you? You could really pick up some business," Tanner purred, wiggling his butt again. "I'd be happy to spread the wuuuuuh!"

Paul abruptly applied pressure to Tanner's spine, rendering his patient temporarily nonverbal.

"How does that feel?" 

"Good," Tanner grunted breathlessly. "I think?" he squeaked.

"Did that take care of the pain you were feeling?"

"Uh, can you do some more maybe? A little lower?" Tanner readjusted his head and neck. "The top of my ass, really. That would be great." He moved his hand to his shorts to show the good doc exactly where he wanted those hands.

"That won't be necessary," Paul said quickly. He lightly probed that area, testing for signs of problems. Tanner let himself enjoy the feeling for a moment. But then it was time to step up his game plan.

"So, I hear we have a friend in common," he said casually.

"Mmmm?" Paul said, distracted. "One of the Deltas who referred you?"

"No, I was thinking of someone a lot closer – to both of us. Ace Hoffman."

Paul dug sharply into another muscle, and Tanner grunted at the sensation.

"Oh?" Paul said, his voice a touch higher than normal.

"Yeah, I do some Web work for him. And other things."

Paul's hands stilled. "He, uh," Paul cleared his throat again. "He said we knew each other?"

Tanner smirked. "Well, you do, don't you?" He craned his head around. "I hear you know each other really well, actually."

Paul's face was carefully screened to neutral, so Tanner resettled himself face down. "You know, since we're on the subject, I'm surprised my Delta bros didn't tell me about you. I mean, they aren't all gay or anything, but I've taught them how to spot the signs."




Run and Hide Pt. 04



Chapter 13

In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea for Paul to sequester himself for a long weekend with nothing the meager contents of his refrigerator and a well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Three days. Three days of silence from Steven. Three days of messages from Ace. Three days of hating himself.

Paul felt like such a fool. And, worse, he knew better. He'd always known better. This was why he had rules. This never would have happened if he had followed his instincts as he'd always done.

Even if the path he'd been following led to an empty life.

Right now, though, that path looked mighty good. At least Steven was there.

Well, that damage had already been done. He hoped his brother would eventually come around and speak to him again, but his hope sank with each day of silence.

The despair would be bad enough if that was all Paul was battling. The jealousy over seeing Ace with that muscled gremlin was rubbing him absolutely raw. Tanner was touching his man like he had some sort of right to, and everything inside Paul went ice cold.

He didn't want to hear excuses. Didn't want to hear that he'd been taken for a fool. So he didn't do anything but hide -- the one thing he'd always been good at. He hid in his condo and hid in himself.

Paul hated how stupid he felt. He thought he and Ace were on the same page. He had never -- never -- felt so at home with himself before. There were times he looked at Ace and saw his love mirrored in those beautiful blue eyes.

For the first time, he really fit with someone and could be his true self. At least while they were alone together.

Apparently, he should have been worrying about the times they weren't together.

Fucking Tanner Caldwell. Paul had meant to talk over that clusterfuck with Ace, but then Steven had happened. And then it happened.

Paul peered down the neck of his nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and swallowed the remainder in one gulp.

All those baby steps he'd painstakingly made weren't enough in the end. Ace obviously wanted someone who wasn't so much trouble to be with. Someone easy.

That college punk was the very definition of 'easy.'

Lacking any more liquor, Paul slumped on the couch and waited for night to come so he could go to bed.

None of these scrambled, bitter arguments changed the fact that he was still completely in love with Ace, and Ace clearly, visibly didn't feel the same way.

The doorbell shook him out of his thoughts. He opened the door and found his arms full of Holly, who squeezed him tight.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" she squeaked against his chest, still bear hugging him. "I couldn't wait any more. I mean, this has been killing me, knowing all of this -- oh, but I mean I know it's been killing you worse than it's been killing me, of course. You poor thing!"

Paul chuckled, the first laugh he'd really meant since that day at Ace's house.

"Well," he said. "I guess that makes us a couple of really sad corpses."

That made Holly hug him even harder before she finally pulled back. "Now, don't kill me," she said.

"Kill a corpse?" Paul arched an eyebrow. "Overkill much?"

Holly leaned out into the hallway and pulled Steven, looking sheepish and wary, into the foyer.

"Hey," Steven said in a small voice.

"Hey," Paul echoed, his face drawn carefully back to neutral.

Holly looked back and forth at the two men as the silence filled the room. Then she stepped in to mediate.

"Okay. It's time to make up," she announced. "Apologize if you have to -- and I mean both of you. Or, you know, don't apologize. You're guys. Fight. Punch things. Then make up. I. Mean. It. No excuses."

She squeezed Paul's arm and gave Steven a peck on the cheek, then darted out the door.

Neither man wanted to be the first to break the silence, so they both stood there, looking anywhere but at each other.

"So, you wanna?" Steven finally said.

"Wanna what?"

"Fight. Punch things."

"Will that make me less gay?" Paul was still hurt that his best friend was acting this way, and he could feel his strained emotions fray further.

Steven winced at the word "gay."

Paul sighed harshly. "You're not ready to do this. Call Holly and tell her to come get you." He turned to go back to the couch, but Steven reached out to stop him.

"No," he said. "I can do this. I have to do this." Steven took a deep breath. "Holly is little, but she can be unbelievably scary."

"I hear that," Paul said.

Steven cocked his head. "Well, she can't be that scary to you, though, right? I mean, you had already told her about, you know..." He gestured toward Paul.

"The g-word?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she didn't really give me a choice."

Steven frowned. "Would you have told her? I mean if she hadn't figured it out?"

Would he have? If Holly wasn't pushing on one side and Ace on the other, would he have stayed silent and alone? Probably. Although right now, silent and alone sounded like a paradise compared to this hell he was twisting in.

"I don't know," Paul finally said.

Steven was still having trouble meeting his eye. This was going to take a while.

"So, whiskey? I think whiskey," Steven said. He held up a bag he brought with him as a peace offering. "You still drink whiskey, right?"

Paul rolled his eyes. No, being gay has changed every single thing about me, including the type of liquor I prefer.

Steven poured two tall glasses of Jameson over ice, and the brothers sat on opposite ends of the couch to drink them.

"So," Steven started in a tight whiskey voice, "you're gay now."

"Yep. Just now."

"How long? I mean, have you known?"

"Kinda always." Paul had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

And, right on cue, Steven's frown deepened. "So you've been lying to me kinda always?"

"I never wanted to," Paul said, a pained look twisting his face. "I'm just --" How did he explain this?

"Just what?" Steven snapped. "Just chickenshit? Is that it? You were just afraid?"

"Yes," Paul said quietly.

Steven's mouth dropped open, as if he wasn't expecting Paul to admit that. "How could you be afraid?" he asked, incredulous.

Paul stood suddenly, his frustration pushing his feet around the room. "Have you ever really listened to guys when they talk? Do you realize how totally homophobic most guys are? Especially in a locker room or even just in a group? You should listen sometime. Count the jokes about fags and pussies."

"Oh come on," Steven protested. "It's not that bad."

"Well, your radar's not tuned to it. I heard every one." Paul sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I was trying to not get my ass kicked in high school. So, yeah, I was scared."

Steven downed another big gulp of his whiskey and coughed at the burn. "And after?" he asked. "It's been twenty years since high school. What scares you now?"

Paul sighed again and sat down. "You."

"You think I would kick your ass? Over this?" Steven's face twisted in pain. "That's how you see me?"

"No, of course not," Paul said. "I know I can take you."

Steven shoved him lightly, but with a smile, which Paul was relieved to see. "Then what?" Steven said.

"I didn't want to disappoint you."

Steven's mouth dropped open again. "Disappoint me?" he squeaked. "My big brother the doctor didn't want to disappoint me?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Come on, I've always known you looked up to me."

Steven ducked his head, acknowledging the truth.

"I didn't want you to look at me any differently," Paul said. "So, adding everything up -- plus Mom and Dad and how they would react -- I figured it was safer to keep this stuff to myself. I was -- I don't know." He took another sip of his drink. "It was cowardly, I know." He turned to look at his brother. "But then when I told you, you just left like that, and it was like my nightmare came true." He swallowed hard against the pain that was still fresh and on the surface.

Steven looked down for a moment, then back up at Paul. "You're not gonna cry, are you? Are you a crier now?"

Paul punched him on the arm and smiled. He could always count on Steven to tease him out of a bad mood.

"I am sorry that I bailed on you like that," Steven said quietly. "It was a lot to take in, and I just didn't know what to say."

Paul nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm still me, you know." He wasn't convinced that Steven really understood that, actually.

"Yeah," Steven said. "Well, sort of. But there's this big part of you I don't know anything about. Feels weird." He looked Paul in the eye. "Thought I knew everything about you."

Paul cocked his head. "Do you really want to hear about it? About two guys?"

Steven shifted uneasily in his seat. "Um, sure."

Paul snorted a laugh. "No you don't, liar."

"Okay, maybe not. Not yet." He finished his drink and gestured to Paul with his glass. "But I don't want you to hide stuff from me, bro."

"I'll have to figure out what to filter," Paul said. "Keeping in mind your squeamishness."

"You know what works on squeamishness?" Steven said, standing. "More whiskey." He refilled his glass and topped off Paul's. They clinked glasses and Steven plopped back down on the sofa.

"How you doin' there, B?" Paul asked after a few silent sips.

"Still processing," Steven murmured. "I mean, it's not like I have anything against gay people. Like Ace, for instance."

Paul's heart clenched at the name. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, he's great. Holly has practically adopted him. So it's not the fact that you're gay or anything."

Paul blew out a breath. "But there's a thing?"

Steven frowned, still processing. "I'm not sure how to say it." He paused and stared off into space. "It's like my world view has been knocked off its base. If I had this big thing about you all wrong, then everything could be wrong, you know?"

"Huh." Paul frowned. "I never thought of it that way."

"I don't know if I used the right words," Steven said. "It's a big thing I'm trying to work out. Just need more time to think about it."

"Not too much more, I hope?" Paul didn't know if he could handle even another day without his brother still in his life. These last three days were torturously long and empty. Without dinners at Steven's -- and without any Ace anywhere -- Paul discovered exactly how little he had in his life.

"Nah," Steven said. "No more radio silence from me. I really am sorry about that."

Paul nodded, infinitely relieved at Steven's growing acceptance. "And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," he said. "Maybe this would have been easier if I'd come out in college like everyone else."

Steven thought about that. "Nope," he said. "It still would have thrown me. But it would have been better without the years of lying."

They toasted to that and drank in unison.

"So, this is why you don't have a date for my wedding?" Steven smirked.

Paul groaned. "Oh man, I will be so glad to stop dodging that question."

Steven scoffed. "You're not off the hook yet, brutha. I know at least two bonafide gay guys -- well, apart from you, that is."

Paul gave a panicked start.

"I think I'll start with Ace," Steven mused. "He's a great guy, and he seems more like your type than my realtor. Well, not that I really know what your type is any-"

"Don't," Paul interrupted. He couldn't listen to anything about Ace right now.

Steven frowned. "What? What did I say?"

"There's kind of a mess there," Paul grimaced.

"You mean you already --" Steven stopped in realization. "Of course you already -- I always figured you for a ladies' man." Confusion crossed his face. "What's the gay version of that, anyway?"

"I'm not up on all the vocab," Paul muttered.

"Wait," Steven said, "a mess? There's a mess?" His face grew comically uncomfortable. "As in -- messy?"

Paul shook his head. "I told you you're not ready for this stuff. This is a job for a fag hag."

"Ah, I know one of those now," Steven said triumphantly. "I should call her anyway. Let her know that she was right, as always. She loves hearing that."

Paul went to the kitchen to gather some snacks as Steven called his fiancé. Once alone, he took in a deep, relieved, load-lightening breath. This was like having a fever break -- that blessed soaking sweat that drives away the shivering heat of the flu.

But he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. He glanced at the calendar on the fridge and saw the Fourth of July circled -- when his parents would be in town.

Jack and Helen McDonnell. The next big hurdle. The next round of pain.

But Steven was back now. Those few days were among the worst he'd ever known. He honestly didn't think telling his parents could possibly hurt worse than when Steven walked out his door.

Now if only Ace --

He ruthlessly killed that thought.

Before he went any further, Paul needed to tell Holly about the whole situation with Ace. He didn't want to talk about it yet -- wasn't ready to forgive -- but there was no way he could keep this from Holly Shipley.

He gathered a bag of chips and some salsa and prepared himself for the upcoming conversation.

Ace wanted to play around? Fine. Paul was done playing.

*****

"...so, anyway, if you could just ... just call me back. I miss you. Um, bye."

Ace sighed and disconnected the call.

Erik had silently come in just as Ace was finishing his latest message for Paul. Erik's face probably reflected his own, he thought -- sad eyes, downturned mouth, worry etched into every muscle.

"No word from Paul," Ace said. "On the plus side, also no word from Tanner. Think he's given up?"

"He's been quiet at work lately." Erik sat next to Ace on the couch. "But then again, I gave him a shitty, complicated assignment to punish him."

"Such a good friend you are."

Erik squirmed in his seat.

"He's not answering any of my calls or returning any of them," Ace moaned, back on his Paul obsession. "He must absolutely hate me."

"I doubt that. I'm sure he's just hurt. We all do stupid things when our heart gets stomped on."

"But I know I can fix this hurt," Ace fairly wailed. "It will take exactly two minutes, using small words even. I'm afraid he's going to cut me out of his life and start over in another Sparks, another back room."

"You don't really think that."

Ace made a face. "Fine. I don't think that. I worry that. I fret that. All I think about are the worst of the what-ifs. What if he never talks to me again? What if he's changed his mind about coming out? What if he tells Steven he's going to try to be straight, just so his brother will talk to him again and he starts fucking some slutty blonde who looks like me but with boobs? And then he gets trapped in a loveless marriage and starts trolling the back room for anonymous blowjobs?"

"Wow, that's..." Erik said slowly. "That's not the worst of the what-ifs. That's the weirdest of them."

"I can't help it." Ace planted his face in his hands. Lola, as the official comforter in residence, twirled around Ace's feet and meowed up at him. It was almost as if she was saying, 'Snap out of it.'

"But you know what's the worst one?" Ace groaned. "The worst of the what-ifs is the one where Paul's so hurt that he gives in to goddamn Tanner. Who doesn't mind fucking in a closet because he's twenty-two and horny and doesn't give a fuck about anyone else."

Erik's face twisted with pain and guilt, but he didn't respond.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Ace said. "Tell me that's impossible."

Erik didn't respond.

"You can't, can you?" Ace cried. "Oh, God! Has Tanner said something to you? Is that why Paul won't call me back?"

"Not exactly."

"What then?"

"Promise you won't hate me?" Erik said in a small voice.

"Hate you? How could I hate you? You're my best fr-" Ace stopped himself. "Wait. Why? Do I have a reason to hate you?"

Erik stood and started pacing. "I might have accidentally let Tanner know about you and Paul."

Ace blinked. "What? What does that mean, accidentally?"

"It sort of slipped out once."

"It slipped out," Ace said flatly. "You told my freelance Web monkey -- the little stalker who's been bugging me for a second ride -- about my secret boyfriend? A guy who's taking tiny baby steps out of the closet and you told a 22-year-old perpetually horny fag about him?!"

"Remember that time when I said don't hate me?" Erik whispered.

Ace gaped at his best friend for a long moment while Erik squirmed.

"Why," Ace said finally. "Why would you ever --"

"I missed you, okay?" Erik interrupted. "You were off with your hot secret boyfriend having hot chiropractor sex and I was back to staring at my own walls on Sundays."

"So, you did this to get back at me?"

"No!" Erik barked, frustrated. "Just let me try to explain this. I don't have many non-Richard-related guy friends in this town. Just you, actually. My social life ended when I broke it off with Richard. So for months and months, it's been you and me on Sundays, working on your beautiful cocoon here, protecting ourselves from getting hurt again."

"Hey," Ace protested, "you never had to-"

"Let me finish!" Erik sighed deeply. "It's been great. Wonderful, really. Just you and me. I can't tell you how much I looked forward to every Sunday. And then it disappeared." He ran his hands over his face. "I was losing you to a guy who was still in the closet, just like your last asshole boyfriend, the man I've been verbally ripping apart with you for a year, and I had no one to talk to about how it was killing me."

"You sound jealous."

Erik ducked his head. "I guess I do."

Ace wasn't sure how to process that. So he did what he always did: ignored the stickier friend-or-lover issue and focused on his anger.

"So you told all this to Tanner, of all fucking people?" Ace growled.

"I didn't seek him out or anything! He kept asking questions about you. I don't know, I thought maybe if he knew about Paul, he'd back off. Like I --"

Erik stopped himself, but Ace knew how that sentence was going to end.

"I didn't know he was going to --" Erik broke off again. "I'm really sorry, Ace."

Ace squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. "I can't talk to you right now."

Erik nodded and silently walked out the door, leaving Ace to process everything. Ace reached for Lola, but the comfort ambassador immediately sauntered out the kitty door in the kitchen.

Ace poured himself an unnecessarily tall glass of Jameson and took a long, burning pull from it.

It felt like everything was unraveling this week. The last time he'd felt this way, he'd quit his job and moved to Kansas. A brand-new thirty-year mortgage kept him from thinking seriously about doing that again.

Stupid mortgage.

But it was more than that. It wasn't just a whim that made him plant roots in Lawrence; he wanted those roots. Craved them. Needed them to help derail his usual pattern. His whole life, every time things got weird or awkward or painful for him, he ran. Every time.

He couldn't do that this time. Didn't want to, either. Not really.

So, running was off the table. The only option left was to clean up the mess his life had become. Starting with Erik.

A second gulp of whiskey went down a little easier than the first.

It was easy to blame Erik at this moment, but it didn't solve anything. Though it was comforting to have someone to blame other than himself.

At this point, Ace knew two things: He needed Erik in his life, and he needed Paul to forgive him.

The real question was: could he keep Erik as a friend -- and keep Paul as a lover? Without hurting his best friend?

Time to find out.

Ace went outside to head for Erik's place and found him on the porch swing with Lola curled on his lap.

"Well?" Erik said in a low, sad voice.

Ace sat down next to Erik and pushed them both in a slow swing. "I'm still kind of pissed, but I'm still here," he said finally.




Run and Hide Pt. 04



Erik sighed deeply, relief flooding his face. "Thank you. It's been making me sick."

They sat and swung in silence as the early evening faded into a cool, clear night. Two friends together, but in a kind of limbo, both wishing things could be as they were before.

"So," Erik said, breaking the silence. "What's your plan for getting Paul back?"

Ace turned and blinked. "You want me to get him back? Even after --" he gestured between them.

"I want you to be happy, Ace," Erik said. "I had just hoped you might decide one day you could be happy with me."

"Erik --" Ace swallowed hard against threatening tears.

"Don't worry about it," Erik waved him off. "I'm not your type, I get that. I've known this for a long time." He leaned back in the seat and pushed them into a stronger swing. "I'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all."

Ace felt the tears well in his eyes. "I don't deserve you, you know that?" He pulled Erik into a hug.

"This is my burden," Erik joked through his own tears, his face pressed into Ace's shoulder.

They both sniffled and pulled back to compose themselves.

"So, I've been thinking about it, and I've decided your situation calls for a grand gesture," Erik announced.

Ace looked at him with skepticism. "This is not a wacky Matthew McConaughey movie." His face went temporarily dreamy. "Mmmm, McConaughey."

"Please, I would not stoop to that reference," Erik scoffed. "I was thinking more 'Say Anything.' You know, boom box over your head, Peter Gabriel, the works."

"I got rid of my boom box after college."

"Or, to be a shade more classical about it, you could write him a long letter, a la Mr. Darcy," Erik offered.

"But I want to see him," Ace insisted. "Want him to see me. Want him to really see that I need him. That I lo-" he stopped abruptly and swallowed. "That I love him," he finished softly. "I do. I can't tell him that in a letter."

Erik nodded at him and smiled softly. That was the first time Ace had admitted the depth of his feelings out loud.

"It's not enough to tell him the L-word, you know," Erik said. "You have to let him all the way in."

"So to speak," they said in unison.

Erik looked all around Ace's bright, stuffed, artful living room. "You've built a beautiful cocoon here. Lots of projects, lots of protection. Make sure he knows he's welcome in your turf. And I don't just mean on this couch."

Ace frowned again. Paul was here all the time. Hell, he could still smell hints of him in the cushions. How much more did Erik want?

All the way in, he said. Did Paul not know how he felt about him? Was it not obvious? Was that why Tanner was able to scare him off so easily?

Erik was right. Ace hadn't let anybody in -- really in -- for a long time. Instead, he'd filled himself up with projects and work and distractions and this simmering, heavy anger. How could anybody new find a place in all that?

Remarkably, Paul had. He was persistent, stubborn and irresistible. And now it felt like he could slip away forever.

That scared Ace more than any deep, dark closet.

"So, it sounds like the only plan available is to stand outside his door and wait for him to show up," Erik said. "Go and put yourself in his face." He smiled over at Ace. "Seriously, who could resist that face?"

Ace managed a watery smile.

Erik gave his thighs a definitive slap and stood up. "I'm going to go. Get to work on this plan and report back, if you please."

"Yes sir," Ace said. So easy to say that, he thought. Come up with a brilliant plan. Wait for a miracle to happen, skip to the end.

"He loves you too, you know," he said, pausing at the bottom step. "I could see it right away. And that doesn't go away as quickly as you're afraid."

He left Ace alone with his thoughts and his purring cat.

Ace meanly thought that, really, Paul should be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Ace had suffered more than a few indignities in the short time he'd known Paul. The least that man could do was answer his damn phone.

But Ace knew how it must have looked with Tanner -- a young, admittedly hot, eager guy touching him like that. Ace tried to imagine how he would have taken it if he'd seen Paul in a similar position. The fury that raced through his veins made him almost dizzy.

And it came at possibly the worst time for Paul, right when he was experiencing the darkest part of coming out. Ace could remember that hopelessness, the cold plastic swing and the rusted chains against his hands, staring down into the scuffed dirt at his feet. He remembered how alone he'd felt -- right until that moment Sonya came by and pulled him out of his funk.

He wanted to be there for Paul, especially now. But being there would involve chasing after him. How ironic. All this time, Paul had been doing the chasing, and Ace had been holding him off.

Now he found the roles reversed. He was going to have to be persistent, to not take no for an answer, everything Paul had done to win him over. Could this be fixed with a sexy back rub? Some cotton candy?

This was utterly new territory for Ace. He had never before understood the concept of fighting for someone. If a guy didn't want to be with him, what good would it do to try to change his mind? To twist his arm into loving him? Then they would both always know that one of them had to beg and the other wasn't completely on board. It's why he was able to walk away from Cameron even though it broke his heart to do so.

But right now, Ace wanted to fight -- fight to be understood, fight to get back in Paul's arms, fight all comers.

A dramatic act, Erik had said. A grand gesture. Maybe it wouldn't take anything grand.

Maybe just something slightly sneaky.

Chapter 14

He could probably get away with not telling them.

Paul was a few blocks away from the Gaf, where he was meeting his parents and Steven and Holly for lunch. For the entire drive from Lawrence, he'd been debating with himself -- well, arguing, really -- whether to tell Helen and Jack McDonnell his big secret.

His bruised, cowardly angel said: They've lived their whole lives just fine without this little bomb being dropped on them. And it's not like they live in town or that you see them very much.

His also bruised, angel-knows-best side said: You're lying to them. There is no excuse for that. The lie compounds the pain.

Coward: It will probably hurt them worse to know the truth about you. Their son is a fag! Think they're going to be proud of that? You can spare them that pain.

Better angel: Tell them. Mom's going to keep pushing for you to get a wife and give her grandchildren. Stop lying to your mother.

Coward: Do you really want your dad to look at you that way? Like he's tasted something awful? Do you know how much that will hurt? Look at us! At these bruises we already have! Nobody is going to shield you from this. You can't take much more.

Better angel: You've come this far. You are strong. You can do this.

He pulled into the small parking lot and gathered his nerve. He hated feeling like this -- uncertain and nervous. The confident mask he wore for the world didn't fit so well anymore, especially around the people who had known him the longest.

He didn't have long to sit in his car before he saw Steven find a spot near his. Their parents were staying with Steven while they were in town, which meant he was also their duly appointed chauffeur.

An older version of Paul unfolded himself from the back seat of Steven's car. At age 60, Jack McDonnell's hair was a little grayer and his face more lined, but apart from that, he and his son could be mistaken for brothers. They shared the same grey blue eyes, the same wide smile, even the same long-fingered hands.

Jack gripped Paul's hand in a firm handshake, and Paul pulled him into a hug. He hadn't seen them since Christmas, a fact his mother was sure to mention.

"Hey, Dad," he said. "How was your flight?"

His mom beat her husband to the answer. "Oh, I just hate flying, don't you just hate flying, Jack? So exhausting, aren't you exhausted? Traveling just takes it out of me."

A short, stout woman with mostly silver hair and large glasses squeezed in between her husband and son to claim her hug. Paul leaned down to hug her back.

"You look tired, sweetie, doesn't he look tired, Jack? He works too much. That's it, isn't it? You always work too much. You should get some rest. Visit us in South Carolina. We're right by the beach, but you never come to see us and we miss you."

The McDonnell men stood back and absorbed Helen's speech with long-practiced patience. Paul leaned back down and kissed his mother's cheek. "It's good to see you, too, Mom," he said with a smile.

"Hey, let's get inside you guys," Steven said. "I'm starting to melt, and it's barely noon."

Jack took his wife's arm and followed after Steven into the restaurant. Holly tugged on Paul's arm. Her eyes were wide and alarmed.

"Oh my God, Paul," she whispered. "I mean, oh my God."

"That bad?" Paul grinned.

"Well, not that bad, but oh my God."

Paul laughed. He knew his mom was an acquired taste on a normal day, but the reason they were in town was to help with wedding plans. Which meant Holly was catching the brunt of his mother's daughterless enthusiasm for the event.

"I'm trying very, very hard to keep an open mind about her suggestions," she said carefully, "but I don't think your mother ever met a wedding cliché she didn't love."

Paul winced and chuckled. "I'll run interference for you," he said. "I'm pretty sure I owe you." Regardless of how that particular scenario was currently playing out.

"I'm starting to think about a little chapel in Vegas," Holly muttered.

He hugged Holly's shoulders in support and steered them both inside.

"So this is what they did with Romanelli's," Jack said, looking around the Irish pub from the foyer. "I tell you what, I loved that Romanelli's."

"Well, sure and who didn't?" John swept around the corner with menus in hand. "There's not a day goes by that I don't hear someone mourning the old place. And with good reason. Yes, with good reason. But we still serve Romanelli's marinara, if that's what you'll be needing."

Steven introduced his parents to the owner, who immediately welcomed them as extended family of the Gaf.

He lifted Helen's hand to his lips. "And it's plain where your strapping boys get their good looks," he smiled. "Why it's right there in your lovely eyes, isn't it?"

Helen giggled. "Oh, I haven't been flirted with in years," she said.

Jack reclaimed her arm. "I'll have to rectify that, then," he said with a low voice and a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, let this be the place to do it then," John trumpeted. He led them to Steven and Holly's usual table and took their drink orders, half of which he knew already.

Jack looked around with approval. "Well, if this place had to change, I suppose it could have been worse."

"High praise, Pop," Paul smiled. And it was, Paul knew, high praise coming from his dad. The man did not approve of much change, and his inflexibility had gotten worse as he'd gotten older. Maybe that was a function of age, but age plus a stubborn Irish temper didn't make for the most open-minded of men.

Which didn't bode well for Paul's announcement.

"Oh, I just love planning a wedding!" Helen gushed as the waiter arrived to distribute their pints. "I should have had a daughter. I was born to be the mother of a bride. If only we still lived in town. I could be there with you every step of the way!

Holly shot Paul a quick, alarmed look.

"Paul, sweetie, you need to find a nice girl like Holly," Helen continued, squeezing Holly's hand. "I want another daughter like her. It's high time you settle down, you know."

"Your mother's right, son," Jack said.

That was unusual. Usually his dad let Helen have the floor almost exclusively -- and always when it came to Paul's love life.

Holly poked Paul in the side from her seat at his right. It was time. This was as good an opening as any. Paul cleared his throat and took a long, fortifying drink.

"Yeah," he said. "I've been meaning to talk to you both about that."

"You're seeing someone?" Helen chirped. "I knew it. That's why you're getting no sleep, right, am I right? Not that I want all the details, of course, but am I right?"

Paul fought a groan. "Not exactly, no."

Both parents looked at him expectantly, and the silence threatened to swallow up all of Paul's practiced words. He fought to get the next words out.

"The thing is," he said, "there isn't going to be a nice girl for me. Ever." He let that sink in.

Helen was still confused, but Paul could see understanding dawn in his father's face.

"You mean you broke up with somebody?" Helen guessed.

"Not exactly, no."

Holly squeezed his leg under the table and gave him a bolstering smile.

Paul tried again. "The thing is --"

"You're queer," Jack said flatly. The air left Paul in one big breath and he looked at his dad warily. The face he found was filled with comprehension, yes, but also incredulity and thinly masked disappointment.

Helen smacked her husband's arm. "Jack! How can you say that about your son! That's not what he means! Paul, tell him that's not what you meant."

Paul swallowed heavily. "It is what I meant. I'm gay, mom."

This time Helen had no alternate explanation. Only silence.

At that moment, John popped by their table. "How're we doing here, folks? Have you decided what you'll be having?"

Steven broke the silence. "Give us a little more time?"

"Not a problem, take all the time you need," John said. He patted Paul on the back as he left, and Paul knew in that moment that he told more than his parents his news.

Jack's face was growing red and his jaw was ticking with the strain of clenching and unclenching, but he said nothing.

Not so his wife. "But, I don't understand," she spluttered. "How can you be -- gay?" She whispered the last word, as if she was talking about cancer. "You're so -- well, look at you! You're so tall and good looking and you have a beard!" she wailed.

Paul smiled sadly. "Not all gay men look the same, Mom," he said gently.

"And facial hair is rarely one of the indicators," Steven chipped in.

"Don't make fun of your mother, boy," Jack said sharply.

"I wasn't!" Steven protested. "I just --" He gave up and sank back into his seat.

Helen wadded up her napkin and carefully blotted tears from her eyes. "I just don't understand," she said. "All this time..."

"Yes, all this time," Jack said with a tight, gruff voice. "How long have you known this, exactly?"

"High school," Paul admitted.

Helen gasped. "But, but your girlfriends! You went to prom with that nice Bannister girl! I have pictures of it!"

"I was trying to be a normal guy," Paul said.

"You were normal," Jack spat. "Then."

Paul swallowed down his irritation at the implication. "Actually, I wasn't. Not when I was hiding from everyone." He looked at Holly and Steven. "I feel a bit more normal now."

"I see," Jack said shortly.

Another awkward silence descended. These silences were the worst part of this process for Paul. Wasn't this supposed to get easier with practice?

"This is really hard for him, you know," Steven said quietly. He looked at Paul. "Probably as hard as it was to keep this hidden, right?"

"And just how long have you known about this, Steven?" Jack asked. "Have you been helping your brother in all this hiding?"

"No! I didn't --" He stopped himself and cleared his throat. "I've known for a few days."

Jack nodded curtly and turned to Paul. "Well, I suppose there's some small comfort that you've been lying to everyone all these years, not just your parents."

"I haven't lied!" Paul snapped. Which was, of course, a lie. And he knew it. But something in his father's voice took him back to his teenage years when everything his parents said felt like an attack, whether that was true or not.

"Of course you've lied!" Jack thundered. "It's a lie of omission! You let me believe my eldest son was --" He swallowed his unspoken words like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

Paul fought against the old urge to yell back. He and his dad hadn't been adversaries in a long time, aided by the years and the physical distance between them. But they were both cut from the same stubborn-as-hell cloth, and Paul tended to lose his hard-won patience around Jack McDonnell.

And his dad had a point, much as he hated to admit it. He hadn't been simply hiding. He had been lying -- to himself and to everybody. He hated being caught in this lie. It felt exactly as it did when he was a kid and he found himself in trouble. He was defensive, indignant -- and most of all, disappointed in himself.

He had assumed that the biggest sticking point for his parents would be the actual fact of his sexuality -- the thing that his dad would find unbearably distasteful and the thing that would break his mother's heart. Then there was the Irish Catholic thing; his parents were devoted church-goers. He expected some old-fashioned wrath of God, or at the very least a heaping helping of Catholic guilt.

But apparently, just as with Steven, the deception upset them most.

He refused to apologize for being gay, but he knew an apology was called for.

"I had my reasons for keeping this to myself," Paul said quietly. "But I am sorry for not being completely honest with you both. I was worried about how you'd take it."

Helen sniffed loudly and wiped her tears -- and most of her mascara -- from her face while Jack sat stone-faced beside her. She gave him a watery smile and reached across the table to take Paul's hand.

"So, sweetie, do you have a nice, um, b-boyfriend?"

Though she stumbled on the b-word, Paul was relieved that he could always count on his mother to get right back on track.

He hesitated before answering her, and Holly gave his leg another reassuring squeeze. Did he have a boyfriend? One week ago, he would have said yes, happily. One week ago, he didn't know about Ace's frat boy on the side.

And yet, he wasn't ready to say no. Wasn't ready to officially, out-loud close the door on Ace. Even the thought of it -- of his life with no Ace ever again -- was enough to make his heart dangerously tight in his chest.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Not exactly," he said. "It's more of a maybe. I hope."

Holly's smile widened, and he knew Operation Yenta to the Rescue was about to launch. Just as soon as he survived this lunch.

His mother perked up a little at the thought of a maybe boyfriend. He never thought he'd be so utterly grateful for his mother's indefatigable push to see him mated. But it looked like -- at least for now -- she wasn't put off by the idea that his mate would be a man.

His dad, on the other hand, looked entirely uncomfortable with the whole concept.

"Is this how it's going to be now?" Jack asked tightly. "We're going to talk about boy-" He stopped, unable to say the word. "No, no, I can't. I need to --"

He stood abruptly. "Steven, your keys, if you wouldn't mind. I assume your brother can give you a lift home."

Steven handed over his keychain, and Jack held out his hand to Helen. "Let's go, dear," he said.

Helen bit her lip as if she wanted to protest, but she gathered her bag. She gave Paul an apologetic look as she hurried after her husband.

"Don't forget," she called out to Holly from the entrance, "we still need to talk about centerpieces!"

Steven and Holly stared at Paul in the long moment that followed. Paul just stared at his empty Guinness.

Once again, John magically showed up to fill the silence.




Run and Hide Pt. 04



"More stout, boys? Yes, that's just what's needed here," he said, sweeping away the empty glasses. "And I think I'll be sending out some of the shepherd's pie. The lamb's quite the stuff today."

Steven nodded. "Thanks, John. You really are the best."

"Not at all, lad, not at all. And just so you know, laddie," he said to Paul, "one of our waiters is your way. He's going to be so chuffed when I tell him!" He pounded Paul heartily on the back and left for the kitchen.

Holly sighed happily. "Love John."

Steven leaned over to Holly. "Chuffed is a good thing, right?"

Paul hung his head, unable to process any more today. This much turmoil in his life in the past seven days was starting to get to him.

"Cheer up, bro," Steven said. "Dad just needs a little time. You know how the McDonnell men are. Some of us are just slow."

Slow to change, that was their dad's motto. Paul knew Steven was right. Patience and time were the only way out of this. He learned that -- painfully -- with Steven.

"Your mom was surprisingly cool about it all," Holly said. Paul could tell her estimation of the woman improved because of how she took the news.

Paul shrugged. "Not that much of a surprise, actually. This increases the odds that I'll be dating someone. She'll be planning a New York wedding for me before they leave the state this week. Boyfriend or no boyfriend."

"Anything to take her mind off my damn centerpieces," Holly muttered under her breath.

"Speaking of boyfriend or no boyfriend," Steven said, "any word from Ace?"

"A few," Paul mumbled.

Steven nodded like a bobblehead doll, waiting for further clarification. "Have you said any words back?"

Paul shrugged by way of response.

"Hey," Holly punched him lightly in the arm. "Do not lose him. I mean it. Want me to get into this?" She mimed rolling up her sleeves. "I fixed you and Steven. I can fix you and Ace."

Steven made a scoffing noise. "Yeah, you did all the heavy lifting there."

Holly waved a solemn finger in his face. "Do not mock."

Paul took a deep breath to try to clear the thoughts threatening to choke his brain. "I know I need to talk to Ace. But what if --" he stopped himself. "What if he and that guy -- I mean, this whole time -"

Holly cut him off. "Do. Not. Lose. Him. Fight for him, if you have to. After all it took to get him in the first place, you're just going to give up now?"

"I don't like to share," Paul muttered.

"That's a fact," Steven said under his breath.

"I'm serious, Paul," Holly said. "Talk to him. Don't make me sic your mom on you."

Oh good Christ. Holly was playing dirty.

"I'll think about it," he said. Holly gave him A Look. "I promise," he assured her.

And it was true. He doubted he'd think of much else but Ace.

"Listen," he said to Steven. "I'm going to bow out of the Royals game tonight. Take Mom and Dad," he said over their objections. "You can sell my ticket if you want. I don't want to ruin a good night for them any more than I already have."

Steven grudgingly gave in. "It won't be the same," he said. "I don't think I've ever been to the K without you."

"I guess change is the theme today, huh?" Paul said. And not just of the day. He wanted to pound his better angel for talking him into all this.

"Want some company?" Holly asked. "I could skip the game, too."

"And deprive you of more wedding planning with Helen?"

She stuck her tongue out.

John brought out their meals, and they dug in to their decidedly non-Fourth of July feast.

As Holly insisted that she wasn't going to cave on her flower choices, no matter what Helen had to say, Paul was surprised to find that he could breathe a little easier. On the whole, it felt like a burden had been lifted. But, man, did it threaten to crush him at times.

Still, for the first time, Paul felt free. The most important people in his life knew his biggest secret, and even though he came close to losing them, a weight was lifted from his chest. He grinned at the thought of what he could do with this freedom. Now he could go to Sparks with Ace and --

But there was no Ace and him. Not exactly.

That night, instead of watching the fireworks flash above Kauffman Stadium, Paul sat on his back patio and listened to the scattered pops and booms of the neighborhood kids' illegal celebrations. He couldn't see the explosions, but he felt each one rumble up through the earth.

Chapter 15

This is such a bad romantic comedy move.

Ace sat in his truck in a nondescript little strip mall, waiting for a reasonable time to arrive for his fake appointment with a real chiropractor. He had been in the parking lot for nearly an hour, having grown too antsy to stay home any longer.  

The weekend had been agonizing, three days of limbo knowing that Paul was just a couple miles away -- close enough to potentially see and touch, but so far away in every other respect.

Now Ace was even closer to his goal, and he still had no idea what he was going to say once he saw Paul again. That was assuming, of course, that Paul would listen to him.

He braced himself for the possibility that Paul might not, in fact, want anything to do with him anymore. And even though Ace knew it was all based on a stupid misunderstanding, if Paul wasn't willing to listen to him when he was standing right in front of him, he was probably going to give up. Masochism was never his thing. But pride certainly was.

Could it really all end this way, after all it took to get here? Derailed because of that damn Tanner?

Not just Tanner, you dumbass. Ace could have dealt with him earlier. Could have pushed him back that night in his foyer. Could have done something except just stand there with his fly down.

Ace squared his shoulders at the office door, ready to do what it took. Before he opened the outer door, he remembered to plaster on a grimace of pain to support his claims of back pain.

The chirpy woman who answered the phone in the morning gave him the day's last appointment after he had filled his voice with imaginary and debilitating pain.

She was on the phone when he entered the empty waiting area.

"Uh huh. Uh huh." She rolled her eyes at Ace and made jabbery motions with her hands. "Hon, let me put you on hold a sec, 'kay?"

"Sorry about that," she said. "You're Mr. Gillen, right?"

"Yep, Lucas Gillen," he said, giving his brother's name.

"Well, you're nice and early!" she smiled. "Plenty of time to fill out our form for first-timers." She handed him a clipboard and a pen. "And I can take your insurance card now to get that out of the way!"

"Uh, I don't actually have insurance," he lied, taking the clipboard from her. "But I can pay for this without insurance, right?"

"Sure thing. Less work for me, actually!"

This woman seemed to speak in constant exclamation marks. It was going to give Ace a headache. He retreated to a lime green office chair to invent some fiction about Lucas Gillen for the forms.

The secretary, meanwhile, had resumed her phone conversation. Ace busied himself with a month-old Newsweek magazine.

"Yeah, Dr. Z has been kind of a bear this last week, but I think it's a good sign, actually," she said.

That caught Ace's attention. He didn't really mean to eavesdrop, but in a tiny waiting room like that, with a receptionist who lacked volume control, it was hard not to.

"Well, you know how I get when I break up with somebody. I think Dr. Z has called it quits with his mystery woman."

Ace fought the dual pain of that statement. Obviously, Paul hadn't told his receptionist the big truth yet.

"Oh, I totally know he's been seeing someone. He's been this sickening fool for weeks. Sooo frustrating."

That helped ease the pain a little. Nice to know Paul was feeling it, too.

"Yeah, I think I'll just have to offer the good doctor some of my special comfort. Every man can use a little pick-me-up after a breakup." The receptionist looked over to Ace, who couldn't hide that he had been listening. "Am I right?" she asked him. "Every man could use a good rebound girl, right? Like that Beach Boys song, what's it called," she trailed off.

"Rhonda," Ace croaked. "Help Me Rhonda."

"Yeah!" she smiled, then spoke into the phone again. "Like 'Help Me Rhonda' or something. I'll totally be Rhonda for Dr. Z. Mmmmm."

Jealousy attacked Ace's better sense and filled his ears with screaming insecurities. Every fear he'd ever had about closeted gay men -- every convoluted scenario he had been torturing himself with for the last week -- everything came rushing back at him.

What if Paul decided that ultimately it wasn't worth it to be out of the closet? What if he's decided to dig way the hell back into that closet? Hell, he might even start fucking women just so he could find some release! And God knows they'd be lining up for him, starting with that vapid blonde at the front desk. Who cares that Paul would be fantasizing about dick when his eyes were closed?

His grand scheme -- his dramatic gesture -- was instantly abandoned in the face of these horrifying possibilities. Ace had to get out of there.

"Listen, uh, miss?" he said, approaching the front desk, ready to bolt. "I need to reschedule, I think. I need to, uh, be somewhere. I totally forgot about it." He put his hand on the door handle and kept inching his way out.

"Well, but I'm pretty sure you'll have to pay a cancellation fee or something," the woman said. "It's policy for any missed appointments."

"No problem, whatever you need to bill me is fine," he said in a rush. "I just need to --"

His words stopped at the back of his throat the moment Paul's office door opened. The chiropractor was leading an older gentleman to the waiting area.

"Nicole, will you get Mr. Reynolds set up for his next appointment," Paul said to his secretary. "Thank y-"

Both men locked eyes and froze. Ace caught a flash of something in Paul's eyes -- joy, maybe, or hope? -- before it disappeared and anger took its place.

He wondered what Paul saw in his own face. Probably shock, fear, guilt. Would Paul see this flare of desire that shot through him? Would he pick up on a quickening heartbeat, shallow breath, dilated pupils? He's a doctor, it wouldn't be unheard of. Ace could feel every emotion being tattooed on his face, and he couldn't find the will to move or hide.

If he ran out the door right now, would Paul follow? Would they have it out in the parking lot, or would Paul just let him go?

It was too late to make a graceful exit, too late to escape. It was time to stay put and make himself heard.

Paul recovered first and said goodbye to his other patient. Ace was finally startled out of his deer-in-the-headlights stance when Mr. Reynolds needed to exit through the door he was blocking.

"Mr. Gillen, so, did you want a new appointment or something? Or do you have time to stay?" The receptionist looked like she wanted him gone, probably so she could give Paul a help-me-Rhonda blowjob. Ace clenched his jaw and stepped closer to Paul.

"No, I probably have time after all, thanks."

"Okay then," she said. "Dr. McDonnell, this is Lucas Gillen, your 4:15 appointment."

"Mr. Gillen," Paul said blandly. "Follow me, please."

The receptionist stood and leaned over her high desk. "He's your last patient for the day, Dr. Z," she said sweetly. "I'll stick around afterward just in case you need me or something."

Paul smiled back at her. "Thanks, Nicole."

Ace's atoms and molecules were screaming at him to flee, to sprint away like a spooked bunny, but he girded himself and followed after Paul.

This was a bad idea. Never take dating advice from Matthew McConaughey, you moron!

He knew better than this. Once in the closet, always in the closet. Or at least, never farther than a few steps away from the closet.

Ace's fears started to morph into anger -- anger at always having to be the patient one, anger at being fooled by yet another closeted guy. Most of all, anger at letting himself fall in love with Paul, who was so quick to run out on him without letting him explain.

By the time Paul had closed his office door, Ace was ready to explode.

"Mr. Gillen, please take off your shirt," Paul said disinterestedly.

Fine. He wants to play pretend? Let's play.

Ace whipped his T-shirt over his head. "So, your secretary's name is Nicole, huh?" he said tightly. "She's cute. Nice set of tits she was pushing out there. Said some interesting things about you when she was on the phone."

Paul, who had been avoiding eye contact and scribbling something on a clipboard, paused briefly and looked up, but not at Ace. "Oh?"

"Not very professional of both of you, Dr. Z."

This time Paul did look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if you're going to fuck your secretary, you both should have the decency to be a little more discreet. In front of patients, I mean."

"You think I'm fucking Nicole?" Paul barked. "That's what you think of me?"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to think?" Ace spat. "Like it's unheard of for a deeply closeted fag to try to convert himself."

That broke the dam. They both started shouting at each other, right in each other's face.

"You hypocritical asshole!"

"I'm hypocritical? You ran out without a backward glance! Had your fill of my ass, is that it?"

"Oh, that's just rich coming from you! How often have you fucked that little beefcake Tanner?

"Christ! Why do I even bother?"

"Are you ever not fucking somebody?"

"We both know you were always going to be the one who did the leaving here. Same old fucking story!"

They both stopped abruptly, panting for breath from their release of anger. Their faces were inches apart, sharing their hot breath, not breaking eye contact.

Paul broke first, lunging at Ace's mouth with his own. They both moaned at the first touch of skin on skin, of teeth clacking together.

Ace met him in passion, tongues clashing battling for dominance. One strong man facing another, until one submitted to the claiming.

He knew his lips were going to be puffy and even bruised when this was all over, but he didn't care. Part of him was so grateful to be touching Paul again, but he still needed to explain himself. He wrenched his mouth away from Paul.

"Wait, wait," Ace said breathlessly. "I need to tell you things. I want to -- need to explain what you saw."

Paul's roaming, hungry hands reached for Ace's face again. "I don't care," he growled. "I need you so fucking much."

Ace moaned into Paul's open mouth, briefly losing himself in another kiss.

With herculean effort, Ace tore himself away. He didn't want this to be about just sex anymore. Maybe it started that way, as a way for a mutual itch to be scratched, but it hasn't been that way for some time now. For either of them. He needed Paul to know how he felt -- before anything more happened.

"Please stop," he panted. "I need to tell you this. Tanner was a one-time thing before I met you, nothing more at all. He kept trying to make it more. I should have done more to stop him, but --" Ace stopped himself. This wasn't a time for excuses. It was time for begging.

He searched Paul's eyes for understanding, willing him to believe in him. "I don't know how to prove that to you," he said, feeling helplessness creep into his voice.

For a terrible moment, Ace thought that Paul ultimately wouldn't believe him, that his mind was made up. After all, wouldn't a guilty man say the same things he had? How could he make him believe? He could drag Tanner over to Paul's house to make him confess, but he didn't trust that little fucker anywhere near his man.

Ace took Paul's face in his hands. "Please, please believe me," he begged. "There is nobody for me but you. Not since the moment I met you. I should have told you that weeks ago," he said, his voice rough with sadness.

Paul stared back at him with eyes still darkened by lust and a wild look, hungry and conflicted.

What if he couldn't accept this? Ace knew he could never walk away like he told himself earlier. He needed this man too much.

The seconds dragged on, and Ace's breath kept coming as harsh panting -- not from exertion this time, but from growing panic.

Maybe Paul needed more time -- to process, to miss him, anything. It would ache to be away from him again, but whatever it took, he was willing to do.

Ace gave up and started to pull away, his head bowed and tears pricking his eyes.

Paul caught him back in his arms and tugged him sharply to his chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said, low and rumbling. "You giving up on me so soon?"

Ace's heart leapt. Did that mean?

"I'm sorry," Paul said softly.

And Ace's heart took a nosedive, the abrupt u-turn making him dizzy. "Sorry for what?" he asked carefully.

"For wasting this whole week," Paul murmured, his mouth hovering over Ace's. "One whole week when I haven't been touching you, tasting you." He briefly licked his tongue into Ace's mouth, then pulled back. "Loving you," he whispered.

Tears swum in Ace's eyes. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, not after everything that had happened this awful week.

"Oh God, me too," he moaned. "Me too everything. Fuck, I've missed you."

Paul growled into a possessive kiss, and Ace felt himself harden swiftly, almost painfully. A week of frustrating dreams, of an empty bed and a heart squeezed to the breaking point -- he wasn't going to last very long. He needed Paul inside him, needed to feel turned inside out again, needed their sweat to mingle on each other's skin.

Paul's hands groped everywhere, like he was afraid Ace would disappear before he could have him. Ace knew the feeling.

Their bodies would be covered with little finger-shaped bruises come morning, and Ace welcomed them. Welcomed every bit of evidence that Paul was touching him.

"I should tell you," Ace said breathlessly, struggling with Paul's buttons, "there's nothing wrong with my back, Dr. Z."

"Better check your backside just in case, Mr. Gillen," Paul smirked.

He flipped Ace around to bend him over the desk, roughly pulling the jeans down his legs.

"As I suspected," he gasped. "Looks like your backside does need a doctor's attention."

Paul pressed his full body against Ace and bit into his neck, pulling a low moan from Ace.

"Can you be quiet during my examination?" Paul whispered, his voice filled with unspilled laughter. "Don't want Nicole to think there's something wrong."

"Please," Ace scoffed. "You're the one who likes to talk dirty and comes like a bear."

Paul growled as if to prove Ace right and dropped to his knees. He pressed hungry kisses along the smooth flesh of Ace's ass, and Ace melted further at the rasp and scratch of Paul's close-cropped beard. Paul teased his fingers against Ace's opening with one hand and reached around the take Ace's aching length with the other.

"God, I need you," Paul breathed. He stood abruptly and backed away. "Don't move."

Ace nearly cried out in frustration, but he stayed where he was, panting and dripping, bent over Paul's desk.

Paul returned with a bottle of KY jelly.

"You keep lube in your office?" Ace asked, incredulous. "Now who's the Boy Scout?"

Paul merely chuckled, then took Ace's head in his hands and wrenched his face around to claim another bruising kiss.

He coated his fingers with the lubricant and sank into Ace's hole. Paul was hot and forceful, wringing pleasure out of Ace like he knew all his secrets -- which, Ace, figured, wasn't half wrong. Paul knew all he had to do was curve his finger toward Ace's prostate and just tickle it while he sucked on the pulse point under Ace's ear and he'd-

"Wait, wait!" Ace gasped. "Not yet -- need you in me! Give me your cock."




Run and Hide Pt. 04



"It's all yours," Paul rasped. He pulled away to retrieve a condom and quickly sheathed himself. With more lube slathered on his straining erection, Paul finally, finally pushed into Ace.

Ace struggled to keep from crying out and sharing his bone-filling pleasure with the world -- or, at least, with the receptionist just outside the door.

Soon, though, all thoughts of being discovered melted from his mind, replaced with the overwhelming, blinding relief of having Paul inside him.

Their lovemaking turned frenzied and hungry, like they hadn't eaten for days, like this was a dream and they were racing the dawn.

"Not gonna last," Paul groaned. "So tight ... so fucking good ..."

"Do it," Ace grunted. "Fill me up." He reached down to his own painful erection, determined to join Paul in this release.

"Awww, fuck!" Paul moaned, entirely too loud. "Love you so much!"

Ace tripped over into ecstasy at that moment, in the most ferocious orgasm he'd ever known.

He was so out of it that he didn't register Paul's cleanup or maneuvering them to the floor, boneless from their exertions.

"I'm sorry I ran out like that," Paul said quietly when his breathing had returned to normal. He couldn't quite meet Ace's eyes. "When I saw that guy, I thought you were just playing with me and, well, I didn't want to need you more than you needed me."

That wrenched Ace's heart. He had done that to Paul. This is what his fears had led to.

"I'm sorry, too," Ace said.

"What for? That kid was basically a stalker, not your boy on the side."

"No, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

"About the gym rat?"

"About how I feel." Ace swallowed thickly. "I made you do all the hard work -- coming out, dealing with the fallout, the fear. And all the while, I just expected more and more from you. I didn't give you much, did I?"

Paul draped an arm around Ace's shoulders and tugged him to his side. "You have no idea how much you've given me." Ace felt the words rumble through Paul's chest and echo through him.

"Well, I should have said it out loud. Should have told you that I'm in love with you. That you're not alone." He looked up at Paul, wanting him to really hear that last part. "You're not alone. Not in this. Not ever again. Not as long as you want me."

Paul pressed his lips against Ace's head. "There will never be a time I'll stop wanting you," he whispered.

Ace hugged Paul tighter and let himself fall the rest of the way. Paul's heart beat into Ace's ear in time with his own. Their stubborn brains had finally caught up with their prescient bodies.

He held that pose as long as he could before reality intervened. They were mostly naked on the floor of Paul's office on a Tuesday afternoon. They needed to return to the world.

"Think Nicole is still out there?" Ace asked.

Paul groaned. "God, I hope not. This is going to be embarrassing."

Ace regretfully pulled away from Paul's embrace and stood. "Better get it over with." He pulled Paul up from the floor.

"Another bandaid to rip off," Paul muttered.

Nicole was, in fact, still at her desk when they tiptoed out of Paul's office.

"Everything okay, Dr. McDonnell?" she asked carefully.

"Very okay, Nicole," Paul said. He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair. Ace put a reassuring hand on the small of Paul's back. He hadn't been there for Paul for the other bandaids, but he would do what he could for this one.

"Um, Nicole, I want to introduce you to someone," Paul started.

"Well, I've sort of met Mr. Gillen already," she said slowly, as if she were talking to a child.

"Yeah, the thing is, that's not my name, actually," Ace confessed with a small smile.

Paul snuck his arm around Ace's waist. "This is Ace Hoffman. My boyfriend."

Ace's heart filled with pride for this brave man, and he felt his love lift and expand.

Nicole's face turned a bright shade of pink and she sat there speechless for probably the first time in her life. Ace could see comprehension fully dawning on her face as she added up the sounds she must have heard earlier and the still flushed and happy faces of the men in front of her.

"Nicole?" Paul said. "You okay there?"

Nicole shook her head as if to untangle her thoughts. Then she straightened and smiled.

"Well, this sorta explains things, huh?"

Ace blushed, wanting to apologize for how they acted in the office. And for the noises she most likely heard.

"I guess I don't have to wear that pushup bra to the office anymore, right?" she continued. "I feel kind of silly now."

Paul put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I should have told you a long time ago. But I was being a coward. I hope you can forgive me."

Nicole smiled, a real one this time. "No sweat, Dr. Z. I don't blame you at all. He's super cute."

She gathered up her purse and stood. "Well, I think I'll take off."

Ace could tell she was eager to leave, but he didn't think it was because she was uncomfortable. She looked like she was bursting with excitement. This must be a gossip hound's wet dream.

"Thanks, Nicole," Paul said. "For everything."

Nicole's smile widened and she scurried out the door.

"Those poor single girls," Ace said once the outer door closed, "teased by all those hot gay men."

"She seemed okay with it," Paul said with relief.

"You realize she's going to tell everyone she knows, right?" Ace said. "I've known her for a total of five minutes and I can already tell."

"Oh, she will. I know."

Ace rubbed Paul's arm. "You worried?"

"A little. I've dodged all the big guns so far. We'll see how my patients take the news."

"Oooh, speaking of delivering news, I better call Erik," Ace said. "He'll want a post-op report."

Paul reached for his phone. "That reminds me. Holly will not take kindly to any delay in getting this information. Plus, she'll love a break from my mom."

"Your mom? Are the parents in town?"

Paul smiled. "Oh, there is so much to catch you up on. I hope you don't have any plans tonight."

"You kidding? I have a looooong list of things I absolutely need to do tonight," Ace teased. "And they all involve nudity."

Paul grinned and pulled him into a deep, wet kiss, right there in the strip mall parking lot on a Tuesday afternoon in that smallish Kansas town. Paul didn't even hesitate.

Ace wondered what he could ever do for Paul that was as brave and as trusting as this huge change Paul has made for him. He pulled Paul's face back to look him in the eye.

"I am so lucky, you know that?"

Paul's smile crinkled all over his beautiful face.

"Just wait until we get naked again," he smirked. "I'll teach you a new meaning of lucky."

*****

From his silver sports car parked near the chiropractor's office, Tanner witnessed the passionate kiss his two new obsessions shared.

It left him equally annoyed and hard.

He'd been waiting for Paul to leave his office to see if he could catch him in a weak moment and talk him into a quick suck and fuck. Hell, it worked once with Ace; Paul couldn't be that much different. Blowjobs were like Tanner's calling card -- a friendly sample of his skills. It was really only polite to accept once offered.

Instead, it appeared that the two secret lovebirds had made up. Both their faces had the blissed-out look of the freshly fucked.

That sucked. And not in a good way.

But that didn't mean he'd lost. He didn't lose. Didn't believe in it.

Losing was giving up. And he didn't like to give up when he had a chance of winning.

Tanner still had a couple of options left. Doc Z didn't look all that thrilled at the idea of being out and proud -- and Tanner believed all fags should be upfront about it. When he met a guy who was in the closet, he wanted to forcibly drag him out of it.

Tanner would just have to keep his eyes open. He'd find a way to squeeze between Ace and Paul.

Chapter 16

He had no idea where to put his hands.

Of all the things that were on Paul's mind as they walked along Eighth Street toward Drayton's, the thing that bugged him most was that he couldn't decide what to do with his hands.

This was a date. A date-date, as Ace called it that day at the ballpark. Paul was on a date. With a man. In public. In his hometown. On a Friday night. He even made reservations, like you do for a date-date.

He had struggled over what to wear, what to do, where to go -- but his hands were tripping him up.

Oh, he knew where he wanted to put his hands. Answer: anywhere on Ace. But that old bogeyman of fear tickled at his periphery and made him doubt himself.

Paul thought he was getting past that old kneejerk reaction. He and Ace had spent three glorious nights in Ace's house, hungry for each other's touch as if it had been a year they were apart, not just a week. And it was perfect, it was home, it was exactly what he wanted.

But it wasn't what they needed. What his boyfriend needed.

Paul had thought all the bandages were good and ripped off, but he had forgotten the big, unwieldy bandage called "everyone else." Everyone as in his patients, his neighbors, random people on the street.

Those random eyes he felt boring a hole in him Eighth Street.

This should be basic stuff, stuff that other guys learned to do in their teens and twenties. How to walk next to a date. When to casually hold hands. But he didn't even know how close to walk next to Ace. Should their shoulders touch? Would it be weird for them to hold hands? Would people stare? And judge?

And there was that bogeyman again. His brain was warring with his heart, and the battle was sending conflicting messages to the nerves in his hands, which twitched at his sides.

Ace noticed. He playfully bumped against Paul's side.

"Relax," Ace said, "your tenseness is contagious."

"Relax, he says," Paul muttered under his breath. "Do you know how long it's been since I've been on a date? A date-date? I'm pretty sure there was a corsage involved."

"Well, I feel cheated," Ace pouted. "I didn't get a corsage. And I've already put out and everything."

This time Paul bumped him. "I'm trying to do this right, you know? I'm just so completely without practice."

Ace smiled softly. "You don't have to hold my hand, you know."

Paul blinked. "How did you --"

"You're sending a kind of sign language there," he said, pointing to Paul's still-twitching hands.

Paul stuffed his hands into his pockets to try to calm the tremors.

"Stop worrying that you're doing this wrong," Ace continued. "You're doing it. Period. You're incredible."

Paul stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk and stared into Ace's smiling, deep eyes. That bogeyman was being disarmed, blade by blade.

"I want to kiss you right now."

Ace grinned. "You do like to skip ahead, don't you?"

"The theme of our relationship," Paul grinned.

Which was an understatement. I fucked him before I knew his full name, and suddenly holding his hand is the big scary step.

"Well, you have my permission to kiss me or hold my hand or anything you're comfortable with," Ace said.

Paul nodded, determined. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took Ace's right hand in his left as they continued toward the restaurant.

Instantly, Paul was aware of two things: one, how perfectly right Ace's hand felt in his. How warm and living and anchoring it was. After all the dirty things they had done to each other with their hands (among other things), this simple touch was knocking his senses out.

And two: he could feel a thousand eyes pounce on him. Which was an exaggeration, of course. But he did catch some stares. Mostly, they were from smiling people, college girls who ran their eyes over the pair of them and sighed in appreciation. Old married couples who grinned at a display of love. Another pair of men who smiled at them as comrades.

But a few eyes came with frowns, and those, of course, only added to Paul's nerves.

Ace caught those same eyes. "Just ignore them," he murmured. "What did Eleanor Roosevelt say? No one can hurt you without your permission?"

"Something like that," Paul said. He stopped looking out for any more judging eyes and concentrated instead on the pleasant if foreign feeling of walking hand in hand with his man.

They walked past Drayton's outdoor seating area, and Paul caught the eager look in Ace's eyes. He wanted to sit outside tonight, Paul could tell.

Yet another test to pass.

Drayton's was a block off the busy Mass Street traffic, and on a warm midsummer Friday night, it was filled with people eager to relax and imbibe -- married couples who had wrangled babysitters for one evening's escape, groups of recent college grads flush with proper paychecks, professionals still in business suits letting deep glasses of wine loosen their neckties. This was not a place to bring kids, but it definitely was a place to bring a date.

Paul gave his name to the hostess, then paused. "Is there any way we could get a table on the outside patio?" He cut his eyes to Ace in time to catch a delighted smile.

"It might be a few minutes longer," the hostess warned.

"We'll wait," he decided.

They each picked up a glass of wine from the bar and settled into a plush loveseat in an open, artful -- and rapidly filling - waiting area. Paul bravely draped an arm along the back of the seat and encouraged Ace to settle in closer to him.

"How did you know I wanted to sit outside?" Ace smiled.

"Your face is easy to read," Paul said. "It's one of the best things about you."

"That I'm easy?"

"I meant your face," Paul said, serious. "Your lack of artifice. How deep your eyes are."

The eyes in question melted a little further.

"And, also, you're easy."

Ace jabbed him in the side and grinned.

As they waited for a table, Paul spotted a handful of familiar faces, mostly past or current patients. The sight of Dr. McDonnell with his arm around a handsome man caused a few double takes.

Paul thought about ignoring them all -- good and bad -- and focusing on his date, but he wanted everyone to know that he was comfortable with himself. He wanted them to see it in his eyes.

So he tugged Ace a little closer and kept his eyes roaming about the waiting area.

"You know, you've got to let everybody else take baby steps with you, too," Ace said softly.

Paul frowned in confusion.

"It took you most of the summer and thirty-six years to get to this point," Ace said. "Your patients might need some time, too."

"And if they don't want the time?" Paul pulled his arm away and shifted to face Ace on the loveseat. "If they already know what they think? If they immediately find a new chiropractor?"

"Then you didn't want them as patients in the first place," Ace said firmly. "I know you can't always pick your clients, but wouldn't you rather not have to give adjustments to known homophobes?"

"True." It sounded so simple when Ace framed it that way, but Paul knew that fewer patients could mean trouble for his practice. "And if a majority of my clientele turns out to be homophobic?"

Ace shook his head with a quirked grin. "I think you underestimate the population of Lawrence, Kansas. This isn't the back woods, you know. It's a college town. A pretty cool town even without the university influence, actually."

Before Paul could counter with another worst-case fear, the hostess called his name to show them to a table.

It was an ideal night for sitting outside for dinner, the heat of the day having melted away with the sunset. In another month, when August had the land fully in its grasp, even the evenings wouldn't be safe for such casual dining. Everyone would huddle in air-conditioned buildings for safety, leaving nature to those that could handle the heat. In other words: cicadas.

But tonight they could share the outdoors with bugs of lower volume and let the wind ruffle their hair and tease them with the aromas of other diners' meals.

Paul wanted to capture this moment and return to it every day. This is what life could feel like when he wasn't afraid. He could eat a meal with the man he loved on a pleasant evening and not let fear ruin it. He didn't have to feel -- or be -- alone.

"Mmmm, perfect," Ace hummed as he settled into his seat and looked around. His face glowed with happiness, and Paul was surprised to find that his man could look even more beautiful than before.

Paul realized he wasn't the only one experiencing new territory tonight. As much as this date was an exercise in pushing Paul's boundaries, it was also a long-overdue moment for Ace, who had to suffer through years of hovering near closets.

"Last time I was here with my friends Olive and Vince, I had some kind of decadent duck thing, and I nearly died of happiness. I made some embarrassingly loud happy noises," Ace said, scanning the menu. "I hear they change the menu a lot, but I really hope they kept that one."

"You should definitely have something that causes happy noises," Paul smiled.

Luckily for Ace, the decadent duck was on the menu, so they both ordered it and made almost-orgasmic sounds when the first taste hit their tongues.

As they ate, they talked about everything and nothing. Paul gave updates on Steven and Holly's wedding plans, and Ace told stories of his travels and the places he'd lived. It was easy to think they were the only ones in the world.

Until the world interrupted.

An older couple was slowly progressing toward the exit when the gray-haired woman caught sight of Paul through the restaurant's large windows facing the outdoor patio and lit up in a smile. Valerie Martinson, one of Paul's first patients in Lawrence, changed course and headed for their table, with her husband in tow.

"It's my favorite chiropractor, out of the office and out on the town," she announced. "What's the occasion?"

"Mrs. Martinson, how's your back tonight?" Paul said, taking her hand in a gentle handshake.

"Oh, still going strong, my dear," she said. She turned to Ace and said, "I always feel years younger after I see Dr. McDonnell, you know. My George gets so jealous." She leaned down closer to Ace. "And if I were a few years younger, he'd have good reason to be."

Ace grinned up at her and whispered, "Me too."

Paul looked over to the George in question, whose face was twisted in a half smile, half grimace. George must have added up Paul plus Ace and became supremely uncomfortable with the result.

Valerie had done the same equation, but hadn't quite reached the sum. "So, who's this young man here?"

Paul cleared his suddenly tight throat. "This is my boyfriend, Ace Hoffman."

Ace gently shook Valerie's hand and offered to shake George's, but the older man stepped back like he suddenly smelled something foul.

"Oh!" Valerie chirped. "Why, I had no idea! This is --" She stopped and looked at her husband. "Well, what a surprise! Isn't it a surprise, George?"

George grunted his agreement. "We need to go, Valerie."

"Right. Mustn't interrupt their date." She squeezed Paul's hand briefly. "It is so good to see you out."

Ace coughed on his drink. She didn't mean it that way, of course.

Paul swallowed roughly. "So, will I still see you for your appointment next month?" he asked softly.

"Valerie!" George called sharply from a few steps away.

Valerie leaned in to Paul. "Absolutely," she whispered.

Paul smiled in gratitude, then caught George's persistent scowl over Valerie's shoulder.

Ace nudged his foot under the table, which brought Paul's attention back to his date.

"Well," Paul sighed shakily, "that was --"

"Not half bad," Ace finished.

"Which half were you watching?"

"The half that wasn't a grumpy old man."

"I hate to break it to you, but I treat a lot of grumpy old men."

"Well, while you were focused on George's sour puss, I'm seeing all kinds of smiles being sent our way," Ace said. "Actually, a couple of them worry me. I'm going to have to fight some guys off, I think."




Run and Hide Pt. 04



Paul chuckled and briefly envisioned Ace battling wannabe suitors. Shirtless. Sweaty. Fierce. He shifted to ease a sudden tightening of his pants.

"Incoming, two o'clock," Ace murmured.

Paul blinked. "Two o'clock?"

Paul turned around to see Mrs. Donaldson, one of his favorite patients, approaching their table with her eyes lit up in delight. Paul skipped over the question phase and immediately introduced Ace as his boyfriend.

"Oh I wish I had known about this!" Mrs. Donaldson cried. "I could have introduced you to my nephew. He's the sweetest boy, and you're a doctor and everything!"

"Well, for my part, I'm glad you didn't," Ace said with a smile.

"At any rate, you boys make a handsome couple." She squeezed Paul's upper arm. "Congratulations, sweetie."

She walked away muttering, "A doctor, too! My poor Shane could have had a doctor."

"You know what I miss from the closet?" Paul said, once Mrs. Donaldson was out of earshot.

"Anonymous, terrified sex?"

Paul gently kicked him under the table. "Fewer matchmakers. They are absolutely legion."

"Well, consider your match made," Ace said. "You're safe from the yentas."

"Honestly, I figured it was the older folks who would have the biggest problem," Paul said.

"I think it's actually the more middle-aged who are likely to object. Grandparents are a lot more live-and-let-live. They know there's more to life than bitching and moaning. Well, about things other than their hip pain, I suppose."

"Maybe for our next date, we can go somewhere with fewer grandparents," Paul muttered. "They're kind of throwing me off my game."

"Who says you've got game, doc?"

Ace and Paul spun their heads to the fence and found Tanner standing on the other side of the fence surrounding the patio.

Of course. Of course he's here. Every fucked-up cake needs its icing.

Tanner easily hopped the low fence and sauntered over to their table.

"So, Ace, you finally pushed the bone doc out of the closet," Tanner said, making no attempt to lower his voice. "Can't say that I blame you," he continued with a leer in Paul's direction.

Ace sighed. "Tanner, please leave. We are not interested in anything you have to offer. I'm sure there are plenty of guys who would love to hook up with you. Go find them."

Tanner slid into a chair between the two men. "But why bother with them when I've got two hot guys right here?" He leaned in confidentially. "I'll let you guys play finger cuffs with me. C'mon, how hot does that sound? We're all fags here. Let's really act like it."

Paul gritted his teeth against a growing urge to toss Tanner bodily over the fence.

"Look, kid," Ace said, weary with having to deal with this. "You're starting to embarrass yourself. We don't need to add anybody to our relationship to make it hot."

"You mean this just-barely-out-of-the-closet relationship?" Tanner scoffed. "Please. You'll get bored -- or he will -- and you'll beg me to jump in your bed. Same old story."

Something in Paul snapped. He'd heard exactly enough from this asshole. He towered over Tanner in a menacing pose. "You think I need to keep us a secret?" he growled. "You think I'm not satisfied here?"

Paul stood abruptly and climbed onto his chair.

"Excuse me, everyone, can I have your attention?" he called out to the other diners on the patio. A few of the customers inside swiveled his way as well. "I doubt it matters to anyone, but I want to make an official announcement. My name is Dr. Paul McDonnell. I am gay, and I am in love with his man." He pointed to Ace, whose mouth hung open in shock. "He's the one who's blushing right over there. Isn't he beautiful?" He paused, trying to think of anything else he needed to say. "This concludes my announcement."

In the total silence that followed, Paul hopped down from his chair, rounded the table to Ace and kissed him deeply.

People on the patio burst into applause. Paul threw down a handful of bills on the table to cover their meal and a generous tip and led his man out of the restaurant. Tanner stayed slumped in his chair, annoyed and defeated.

*****

Ace held tight to Paul's trembling hand as they left the restaurant. Talk about jumping off the deep end. He couldn't believe Paul did that just now.

"What happened to baby steps?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess I grew up."

"Well, if that shows up on YouTube, there will be such punishment."

Paul squeezed his hand, calming a little. "Promise?" he rumbled low.

Ace pulled him around the corner to the back side of the restaurant. "I could give you a preview of your punishment now," he murmured. "Wanna go home?"

Paul breathed deeply. "Not yet. Let's walk for a bit."

Ace shook his head. "I can't believe you're delaying sex. You of all people. This feels backward."

"It's part of my plan for tonight. I'm trying immersion therapy."

Ace looked at him questioningly.

"Let's take a walk on Mass." Paul took his hand again. "I want to get so used to this that it never gives me the shakes again."

Ace squeezed his hand tightly in response, and the two of them joined the summer throngs.

While not as densely crowded as on an early autumn evening after the university was back in session, Massachusetts Street was bustling with a relaxed and steady flow of people -- college students still in town over the summer, recent grads who weren't ready to fly away just yet, long-time locals who couldn't resist the melting coolness of a summer evening.

They walked unhurriedly, pausing to look in at any shop that caught their eye, rarely breaking contact with each other.

Ace couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable in his own life.

"Hey, isn't that your friend?"

Ace followed Paul's gesture and saw Erik sitting outside of an ice cream parlor on Ninth. He was at a small table on a tiny patio, slowly picking at his sundae and watching the crowds stream by.

Ace bit his bottom lip, thinking. "Do you mind if we- I mean, I know we're on a date and all, but-"

"We should say hi," Paul said.

"I really really want you two to be friends. Good friends."

"I want that too."

Ace kissed him quickly and bounded over to Erik's table. He and Paul soon settled in with their desserts on either side of Erik.

"It's good to see that you're not at work, Mr. Overachiever," Ace said.

"It was just too pretty outside to waste the night at home alone," Erik said, somewhat wistfully.

That tempered some of Ace's overflowing happiness. Now that Ace no longer needed a bitching buddy on Sundays, his best friend probably felt even more left out of life.

Paul looked slyly at Ace. "Think we should?"

Ace's eyes widened. He didn't mean that, right? Did Tanner make him think-

"Send him to Holly," Paul clarified.

Ace relaxed. "Oh, that's totally my plan, yes," he said. "Not that any of us will have much choice." He turned to Erik. "Once she meets you, you will unleash the matchmaker."

Erik looked warily at him. "Sounds ominous."

"More like unstoppable," Paul said. "Now that she's got us sorted out, she'll be on the lookout for a new project. Once the wedding is over, of course."

The wedding. Ace grinned to himself and took a happy bite of his ice cream. Looks like he was able to find Paul a date to Steven's wedding after all.

Chapter 17

In the darkness of the hotel ballroom, trailed by a twinkling red spotlight, the couple swayed in each other's arms and shared a private joke, savoring this moment together that was so long in coming. Appropriate for these two, the song playing throughout the room was not something common or shmoopy. Instead, it was yearning and earnest, and one that the great-aunts wouldn't recognize.

Paul took another long pull from his beer as he watched his little brother and his new wife continue their first dance in the ballroom of this old hotel on the Plaza.

Meanwhile, his date was sitting across the room with Helen McDonnell, who had captured Ace's ear and wasn't letting go. So Paul found himself with nothing to do but drink his beer and watch the dancers.

But honestly, apart from giving the toast before the dancing began, Paul's job as best man didn't entail much activity during the reception anyway. Even during the ceremony itself, he had only a few assignments: Produce the rings when the minister said the word "rings." Don't trip. And don't make Holly cry -- or get the church giggles.

Which meant he tried to refrain from making any eye contact with Holly at all. Because they learned all too well during the rehearsal that it didn't take much to set her off -- one way or the other.

And Paul didn't need to aggravate his father today with any hint of tomfoolery. It felt like he was walking on eggshells around that man anyway, considering who Paul's date was tonight.

A date who looked really hot in that suit.

They were definitely going to need to find a back room before the end of the night.

Paul ended up tuning out most of the ceremony. He didn't need to hear the words to know what this day meant for two of the people he loved most in the world. He was so damn proud of his brother and so grateful for the very existence of Holly in the world, but if he thought about it too much, he'd be the one fighting tears.

He had always told himself that marriage didn't mean that much. It was just a ritual, a big show, one of those customs more honored in the breach than the observance and so forth. Of course, that was before he could have ever dreamed that he might want to stand where Steven did. That was before one beautiful blond man turned his life upside down.

As he stood next to Steven on that altar, Paul suddenly understood why anyone would want to go through a wedding -- would want the fuss and the planning and the tuxes. Because he found that he wanted to stand up in front of everyone he loved -- hell, in front of everyone in town -- and announce that he had found his other, his one, his missing piece. He wanted the ritual and the official seal, even. He wanted it to be real for everybody, not just real in his head.

Paul could hardly believe those thoughts ever flirted with his mind. Where was the firmly solo, firmly detached guy from earlier this year?

At that moment in the ceremony, as if he could read Paul's mind, Ace caught Paul's eye from the audience and winked.

Oh yeah. That guy from before? Long gone.

Paul was getting ahead of himself. Again. Always. For a few months, he and Ace had been basking in the newness and discovery of a real relationship. And Ace had been there with reassurances when he'd lost some long-time clients in the wake of his coming out. It had helped that his practice was fielding calls from a few new patients. Ace grumbled that far too many of them were hot guys who didn't appear to be in much pain.

Not that Paul was at all tempted. He knew exactly how good his life was, even without skipping ahead. Marriage was definitely a ways down the road -- and a couple of states away.

But for the first time in his life, he could see that road, and there was something to aim for. And there was someone to travel with along that road.

As the song was nearing its end, Paul felt warm hands snake around his waist. He sighed happily. He didn't need to turn around to know who was trying to sneak up on him.

Ace discreetly rubbed Paul's flank. "I love this song," he murmured into Paul's ear.

"This song is all Holly," Paul said. "If it were up to Steven, they'd be dancing to AC/DC right now."

Ace sighed mockingly. "Such a romantic."

"And accurate. I'm sure she does shake him all night long." Paul smiled and leaned back into Ace, bringing them as close together as he dared.

Across the dance floor, he caught his dad sending them a frown. Paul tamped down his frustration; the last thing the wedding reception needed was a family spat.

"I think we're venturing into PDA territory," Paul told Ace with a sigh. His dad was starting to come to terms with the bomb Paul dropped on him a few months ago, but, like his oldest son, it took baby steps to change. And physical evidence of homosexuality still unnerved Jack McDonnell.

"So, you're saying I shouldn't put my hands down your pants right now," Ace said, slowly sliding his hand down toward Paul's butt.

Paul nudged him and stepped away from the danger zone. "Saw you talking to my mom earlier," he said. "Looked suspiciously like conspiring."

"Your mom is a doll. I've never seen a woman hungrier for grandchildren. She was telling me about friends of hers whose son and daughter just adopted twins."

Paul turned to him with a start. Twins?

"It sounded like she was giving me a primer," Ace continued. "I thought I should be taking notes."

Paul struggled to keep his voice neutral. "Oh? Is that, um, something you're wanting? Soon?" He cleared his throat. "Twins, I mean?"

Ace laughed loud at Paul's failure to keep the alarm from his face. "Relax, big guy. Your mom is a lot like you, you know. Skipping way ahead."

Paul let out a breath he'd been holding. "For the record, I'm not anti-kid or anything."

That earned him a big smile. "Same here," Ace said.

The dancing had switched to mother/son and father/daughter, serenaded by Nat King Cole. Paul tracked his father's movement around the perimeter of the dance floor as Jack made his way over to where he and Ace were standing. He straightened himself unconsciously and stood taller.

Ace smiled at him with warm eyes. "Now, be a good boy," he murmured.

Paul rolled his eyes at Ace. His dad had met Ace last night for the first time at the rehearsal dinner, and it had gone about as well as he could have expected. Jack had been polite to Paul's boyfriend, but a little distant, like he was trying to remove himself from the temptation to say something about their way of life.

Ace kept counseling Paul on the need for patience, particularly with fathers. But, naturally, Paul wanted the big happy family right away. And he was damned if he was going to hide his real self now, not after everything he'd gone through to find it.

Paul's father reached out to shake both their hands as he approached. "That was a good speech you gave, son," he said. "I was a little worried you'd tell the story about the chainsaw and then I'd have to explain the real story to everyone."

Paul laughed. "I definitely considered it," he said. "But Holly gave me a strict list of acceptable topics."

"Such a smart girl," Ace smiled.

"I suppose this is the last one of these things I'll have to get all monkeyed up for," Jack said, taking a long pull on his beer. "I have to say, I won't miss the suit."

"I don't know about that, dad," Paul said. "It's a whole new world out there. Almost half of the country is treating homosexuals like real people and everything."

"I didn't say you weren't --" Jack broke off and huffed.

Ace nudged Paul with a small frown, and Paul read the unspoken message: Don't stir things with dad tonight. It was just so easy to revert to being a smartass teenager around his dad. It didn't help that McDonnell Senior was looking at him with that same hint of disapproval that had chased him through his adolescence.

Jack cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. "You boys are lucky, you know? You don't have to dance at all those slow songs like the rest of us."

"What are you saying, dad?" Paul snapped, unable to stop himself. "The fags aren't allowed to dance?"

Jack bristled visibly at Paul's choice of words and geared up to answer back.

"Actually, my dance card is already surprisingly full," Ace interjected brightly, trying to lighten the tension. "Between your wife and your new daughter, I doubt I'll lack for a partner on the floor."

Ace turned to smile at Paul, and Paul read a more insistent unspoken message: Don't pick a fight, dumbass.

"Besides," Ace continued, "this is Holly's night. We don't want to steal the spotlight from the bride."

Which we would, Paul thought. The sight of two handsome men dancing close among all the cousins and co-workers would be all that anyone talked about when they mentioned Steven's wedding. Although he doubted Holly would mind the gossip, particularly as she considered herself responsible for their successful relationship in the first place.

Jack seemed to warm to Ace a little after that. Like most people, he approved of those who agreed with him.

The father/daughter and mother/son dances had ended, and the tempo of the music picked up immediately. The youngest members of the dance party -- the flower girls and ring bearer and all the cousins' kids -- instantly took to the floor. Adults were harder to convince, however, so Holly made it her mission to recruit dancers.

She started with Ace.

"Come on!" she shouted, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the floor. "Time for positive peer pressure!"

Paul watched as Ace joined all the bridal party out there -- the groomsmen were clinging closer to the bar area.

"She sure does like Ace," Jack remarked.

"Most people do, once they've met him," Paul said. He finished his glass and turned to his dad. "I hope you will someday, too."

Jack sighed loudly. "I don't dislike him, you know. It just seems like I keep running into landmines around you two these days."

"Those aren't his landmines, though. Those are all mine. I planted them in high school."

Jack gave a small grin. "I suppose so."

Paul let himself watch his partner tear up the dance floor for a long moment, as gratitude washed over him. His dad was trying, he knew that.

"So, how are you doing with all of this?" Paul kept the question vague, but both men knew what he was asking.

"Getting there, I guess," he grunted. "Your mother can't stop talking about it. I think her bridge club is jealous of her cosmopolitan gay son."

Paul barked a laugh. It figured that his mother would embrace this the way she did. Hell, anything for better gossip.

"You know, Mom was talking about having us for a visit," Paul said, tentative. "Both of us." He looked at his dad. "Would you be OK with that?"

Paul could see the discomfort bloom across Jack's face, and he rolled his eyes. "We wouldn't do it in my old bedroom or anything."

"Son! That's not --" Jack cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Of course we'd love to have you visit. Both of you."

So that's what a baby step looked like from the other side. Halting, precarious, and ultimately successful.

Ace must have had gallons of patience to deal with my stupid steps.

"Besides," Jack continued, "the guys in my golf foursome have been complaining about back pain." He looked sideways at his son. "Maybe you could, you know," he trailed off.

Paul smiled and rolled his eyes. No such thing as a free lunch.

"You know, speaking of pimping us out, if you ask nicely, Ace might rearrange the house."

Jack grimaced. "I like things the way they are."

"That's what I thought, too," Paul said. "Before I met him. You'll be surprised how much better he can make things."

The music switched to a slow song, and Helen arrived to take Ace's arm. Holly darted over to demand a dance from Paul.

Paul happily wrapped his arms around his new sister, who was flushed and glowing.

"This is nice," she sighed. "Wedding, check. Paul and Ace, check. Sold Steven's house, check. I can relax."

"When do you guys sign all the house papers?"

"After the honeymoon."

"Speaking of that, has my mom asked about your ovulatory cycle yet?"

Holly blanched and missed her footing. "She'd do that?"

Paul laughed at how horrified she sounded. "Have you not met Helen McDonnell? She wants grandchildren, stat."

Holly huffed. "Well, you and Ace better get going on that, then."




Run and Hide Pt. 04



"Oh, mom's already planted the seed of thought, trust me."

"Good." Holly snuggled against Paul's chest. "I want our kids to grow up together, you know. Be in each other's pockets. Best friends. True siblings."

"What about the McDonnell history with siblings and chainsaws?"

"I'll hide the power tools."

"Thank God for you, Holly McDonnell." He pulled back and tipped her head up. "I mean that. I thank God for you."

Holly's eyes swum with tears until she shook her head and pushed Paul back. "Now cut that out," she ordered. "You had strict instructions."

"Job's done, toots. You're all hitched now. I can make you laugh or cry all I want."

"Well, that's enough of that." She carefully wiped her eyes. "My mascara will never stand up to this sort of treatment. Go find your man. Stat."

Paul grinned and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek.

He wound his way around the other dancers until he reached Ace and his mom.

"I'm stealing him away from you, I'm afraid," he told Helen. "You should get Dad out here."

"Oh, your father hates dancing," Helen said. "I could barely get him on the floor at our own wedding."

"Take Holly with you," Ace suggested. "She can make people do anything she wants. Besides, he's halfway drunk. Whiskey is a strong motivator at weddings."

As Helen followed that advice, Ace took Paul's hand. "I have it on good authority that the DJ is going to play some AC/DC soon. Wanna dance?"

"No."

*****

Ace blinked at Paul. "Just no?"

Paul gently pulled Ace off the dance floor and toward the exit.

"We're not leaving, are we?" Ace frowned.

"Not exactly. I'm trying to avoid giving my dad an aneurysm here."

Walking as nonchalantly as possible, the two men slowly walked along the periphery of the tables until they reached the coat closet. Paul took one more look around, then tugged Ace into the dark little room.

He wasted no time and slanted his mouth over Ace's. Ace came up for air after a long, drugging kiss and laughed breathlessly. "Seriously, we've got to stop meeting like this. You must have a fetish for small, dark places."

"They bring back very happy memories for me. Like the first time I met you."

Their tongues danced happily, greedily against each other, a delicious pre-show for the coming event.

"Ohhh, man," Ace moaned. "The irony is thick in the air."

Paul dropped his head to Ace's neck and sucked on a pulse point. "Mmmm?" he hummed.

Ace pulled back to look at him. "This is a closet. We are back in a closet."

Paul looked around him. "I prefer to think of it as a trip down memory lane."

Ace smiled. "You do like to fuck in dark, dangerous places."

Paul kissed him deeply. "Correction. I like to fuck you. Anywhere I can."

"I second that," Ace purred.

He lost himself in the familiar sensation of Paul's knowing touch. Paul kept up his exploration of Ace's body, bringing Ace's nerve endings to a rolling boil.

"Mmmm," Ace hummed. "Holly was right about you."

Paul grunted questioningly. "She said I was too sexy for my pants? I get that a lot."

Ace dropped his hands to the pants in question. "No," he said, distracted. "Well, yes. And wow you're old, Mr. Right Said Fred."

Paul pinched Ace's butt in response. "What was she right about this time?" He pulled back and used the pause to undo his belt.

Ace's thought process blinked off momentarily, knowing -- relishing -- what was going to happen soon. He shook his head to clear it. "Good bones," he murmured.

And, of course, she was spot on, Ace thought. Solid foundation on which to build a future. Strong, well made, in need of a loving hand.

Not that Ace could have seen all this on that hot night at Sparks just a few months ago. Those few months felt like a different life right now.

What he felt now for Paul was so similar to that first flash of attraction -- but deeper, richer, more defined.

Yep. Definitely good bones. In every sense of the word. But Paul was now the after picture, post renovation, a place to call home. And all it took was tearing down one closet.

"Good bones, huh?" Paul rumbled, a sharp glint lighting his grey-blue eyes. "Any bones in particular?"

"I have my favorites, now that you mention it."

Paul growled softly and frog marched Ace deeper into the coat-filled closet until he bumped them up to the wall. "I just can't wait to get you home. I need you now."

Ace smirked. "Like you've ever been able to wait." He turned around and braced himself against the back wall. "Just like old times?"

Paul spun Ace back around and shook his head. "I was thinking more like new times."

He dropped to his knees in front of Ace and buried his nose against Ace's groin.

"Mmm-hmm," Paul purred. "You smell good. Smell like --" he paused, "like part of me."

"Well, you do like to mark me with your scent, you big cat."

Paul pulled back. "Does that make me a narcissist? That I'm attracted to the me in you?"

"No. It makes you mine."

Paul's eyes darkened with a deepening lust and he squeezed Ace's cock through his dress slacks.

"I want some you in me," Paul growled. He made quick work of Ace's zipper. "And not just like this. I want it all. All of you." Paul paused to let that sink in.

Ace's brows furrowed. "Are you saying what I think --" He cut himself off. "I thought you didn't ever --"

"Not here, obviously," Paul said, "but, yeah. I'm thinking yeah. I'm thinking I want to."

Ace's eyes glinted in the low light. "You amaze me."

"Oh, just wait," Paul said, reaching into Ace's briefs to pull out a perfectly hard cock. "I've been learning you, you know. Learning from you. Now let Dr. Z take care of you."

"Always," Ace groaned.

Paul grinned and bent to his work. And no matter how many times they had reached for each other, it always felt like coming home.

End.