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31. Easton

Chapter 31

Easton

Easton wanted to be alone, to sulk and bask in misery without the disruption of toxic positivity. The world sucked—at least for the moment. Well, maybe not the entire world, but Wade did. But Wade wasn't alone in his douchebaggedness. He hadn't invented bigotry and hate. He'd been taught them, which meant there were others who felt the same. It couldn't be denied despite how much Easton wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend all was still good.

Easton had witnessed an ugliness that he never wanted to glimpse again, and remaining shut away in his childhood room surrounded by shelves of his model airplanes and plastic dinosaurs where all was safe provided that possibility. However, it was Thursday in the Faucheaux household, and Thursday meant pinochle night with the Broussards, his parents' closest friends.

Unmistakably, Easton liked the Broussards, but ever since he began walking, Delmar Broussard had been trying to marry him off to her eldest daughter, Rana. Even if he'd been physically attracted to her—which he wasn't—he wouldn't have connected with her on any other level. Sure, Rana was sweet, but she had, in his opinion, a fucked-up attitude about dating and love. She'd made it clear on more than one occasion her intention to marry for stability and possibly learn to love the poor slob she'd hitched herself to sometime after that—as if love was an afterthought and an emotion that could be manufactured. Although Easton's credit score was well above 700, he didn't desire a partner with whom he'd have to submit a PowerPoint presentation of his financial portfolio and 401(k). He wanted someone to love him for him, to accept him for who he was as he was. Someone like Royal. Royal would never ask to see his credit score. Of course, Royal already knew that information; but if he didn't and had asked, Easton would have no qualms disclosing. But that all was beside the point.

Royal was the reason Easton had dragged his sulky ass out of bed thirty seconds after receiving a text inviting him to dinner and a movie. So, there he was, standing in Salethia's gleaming kitchen, watching as Royal removed the hot cast iron skillet from the oven and plopped it onto a silicon trivet. Easton's mouth watered at the smell of the Cajun crab dip. He could always count on Salethia leaving them something tasty to chow on while she was away. Tonight was no different. And his own mother hadn't been a slouch either. She never sent him empty-handed and had made a plate of blackened crawfish remoulade and muffuletta deviled eggs. He'd picked up the six-pack of double-dry Ghost in the Machine courtesy of a quick pit stop at the Piggly Wiggly.

"Where are the chips?" Easton inquired, licking his lips.

"To hell with chips. Duchess baked baguettes this morning. I already sliced them and put them in a basket on the coffee table in the den."

"Oh, key awau ! We get the good stuff."

"Did you expect anything less?"

"No." He hadn't. The two of them had the best mothers on the planet. "Huh," he muttered.

" Quoi? "

" Ce n'est rien ." Easton shook his head, indicating his thought was nothing of importance. But it wasn't nothing . It was very much something .

Since the Wade incident, Easton hadn't been able to shake the reality of what coming out would mean and how it would affect his career. He'd thought he'd known, but it hadn't been until he'd seen Wade's expression and heard his disgust that the message resonated at a level of consciousness that couldn't be denied. The fear of being caught again and being exposed was overwhelming. On the rodeo circuit, reputations could be ruined on the skimpiest hearsay. So, how could he be around Royal day in and day out and not think about or crave what they had experienced? And he didn't mean only the sexual stuff. He hadn't dreamed it possible, but he and Royal had grown closer over the last several weeks. And the truth was, Easton could envision himself with Royal. Try as he might, he couldn't forget or ignore what had transpired between them. And there lay the fucking problem.

If he couldn't forget, he would need to avoid it. He would have to put distance—physically and emotionally—between them. But that also would mean Easton would have to avoid Salethia. And his own mother would pitch all nine innings of a conniption if Royal stopped coming around when he was in town. He was like another son. In truth, Easton sometimes questioned if his family liked Royal more than him. So, the "Huh" he'd uttered was the realization that every part of his life was entwined with Royal's. Royal was his destiny, yet this yucky world was scraping its social righteousness claws against the blackboard and screeching condemnation from a morality pulpit. He sighed. Why did it have to be that way?

The why didn't matter. He'd just have to do it—pull back and stomp down his emotions the way he shoved away any fear of climbing on a bull.

I can do this.

"Grab some paper towels, will ya?" Royal asked, stacking food on a wooden serving tray to carry it to the den.

"Sure, no problem." He walked to the pantry to get a roll of Bounty.

Tell him.

"Um… Roy…."

Returning to the kitchen, Easton found himself alone. He shut off the light and made his way down the long hall to the den off the split level where Royal was settling onto the couch. Easton placed the paper towels on the table and sat next to Royal.

"Any preferences?" Royal pulled up the guide on the TV and began scrolling.

"No crying or singing movies. And nothing that is going to make my brain hurt." He read the screen. "What about that one?"

"Uh-uh. It's about a son searching for his father, and I ain't got it to do tonight."

"Well, you know my feelings on the subject. I think you should contact him."

Royal clicked the description of an action movie about an underwater locomotive.

"I already have."

Easton froze midway through selecting a deviled egg.

" Quoi? Quand? "

"Before we left."

"And you're just now telling me?" Easton didn't give Royal a chance to respond. "What happened?"

"It was brief and didn't go anywhere, but he did say I should call again. He claims he's been following my career." Royal shook his head. "I didn't tell Duchess that part. I think that would have sent her over the edge for real."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You told your mother?"

"More like screamed it at her. I opened my mouth, and it spewed like projectile vomit. It was a complete shit show. It only happened cos she caught me off guard when she asked if we'd gone all chick-mode and did a deep dive into our emotional understanding, attachment, and attraction to each other."

Although seated, Easton's legs gave way, and he nearly slipped off the sofa.

Da fuck?

"She did what?"

"I thought Marcel had said something, but he hadn't. She figured it out. You know how she is. And you know who else knows if she knows."

My mother.

"Oh. My. God." Easton slumped back on the couch. "Mama hasn't said a word."

"She's probably not going to cos you live farther from the fire department."

" Quoi? " Easton felt his eyeballs drying, they were so wide.

"Never mind. Let's just watch a movie."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice shaky and questioning as his mind continued processing. The only reason he agreed to drop the subject was because Royal's expression indicated that not only was he done but he was done done. "Okay. You pick."

How the fuck did things just get more complicated? How?

* * *

The movie ended, but Easton couldn't have answered a single question about it. First, the acting had been so egregiously atrocious that he hadn't been able to focus on the plot. Second, his thoughts were still scattered like breadcrumbs eaten by forest critters to Timbuktu and back. But mainly, it was due to the man seated beside him who smelled like desire but was on the Romeo and Juliet forbidden-love list. He understood why they couldn't be together . Hell, Royal had been the one to explain it to Easton. What Royal wouldn't understand was why Easton needed physical space between them. After all, for the majority of their lives, they rarely went a day without seeing each other.

For his sanity, Easton needed to keep away. Royal had a real chance at winning this year, and if what they'd been doing seeped into the media's grubby, stumpy fingers… it would be Wade times infinity. Simply enforcing boundaries wouldn't work—not when they practically lived together. It would be like a divorced couple cohabitating. Was it possible? Sure. Would the temptation to fall into old habits and patterns be tremendous? Did Uncle Sam tax the shit off the top of his check? Hell yeah! It would be hard, but…

I have to do this.

"Royal," he began slowly, "I've been thinking."

"Well, that's your first mistake."

"Asshole," Easton muttered, nudging him with his elbow.

"Always."

"I'm dropping out of the competition."

" Quoi? " Royal sat erect from his relaxed position and stared at his best friend. "Come again?"

"You heard me."

" Mais pourquoi, sha? You've worked like hell to get back in this thing. Why would you toss it all now? Is it because of Wade?"

"No. Yes. I mean…. It's everything, Roy. How do you expect us to pretend that we didn't happen or trust that we won't get caught again?" He waved his hands frantically. "People are catching on. Your mother. My mother. Who's next? What if it's Balor or one of the sponsors? Then what? You lose it all? You can't when you're so close to winning. I won't let you."

Royal's eyebrow quirked. "Let me?"

Fuck! Them's fighting words. He's going to make a big deal.

"You can't stop me from dropping out," he quickly added to stave off the impending protest Royal was gearing up to make.

"No, but I can call Miss RobiLeigh and have her birch-whip the shit out of you."

Easton's face twisted at the mention of his mawmaw. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would, and she'd come with heels blazing. That old birch in the south corner of your backyard always made for nice, flexible switches."

"That would be pure mean."

"Well, stop talking crazy and it won't happen. I know you're freaked out about—" Royal shrugged. "—well, everything. But this isn't the way, East. Trust me; it isn't. If anyone quits, it'll be me."

Easton snorted so deeply, his nostrils stung. "And I'm the one talking crazy? You quitting is beyond crazy. It's…." He searched for a word, but only one came to mind. "Idiotic."

Royal's jaw dropped. "Did you call me an idiot?"

"No, but what you're proposing is." Easton slumped back and stretched his arm across the rear of the couch, resting his hand on the pillow behind his host. "I don't know what to do." Closing his eyes, he whispered. "I'm scared, Roy."

Royal responded, but the words didn't register with Easton. All he felt was Royal's mouth hot and hungry on his own and his body being snatched against Royal's chest. Or maybe he'd tugged Royal to him. He didn't know nor care. His thoughts muddled as he sank into the delight of Royal's teeth nipping over his throat. His eager body arched at both the torturing and pleasing sensation of his best friend's—his lover's—lips and tongue gliding across his flesh. Each sweep of Royal's tongue hijacked Easton's breath before he could draw it. For an instant, fear rose in him at the realization that he'd never needed anyone or anything so desperately. Then as soon as the fear materialized, it vanished. This felt right. Royal felt right.

"I need to fuck you," Royal murmured, his voice husky with desire and eyes clouded with something almost savage.

Both excitement and panic churned in Easton's belly. Royal's dick was fucking ginormous, and Easton couldn't formulate the math of how it would fit inside his ass—not with algebra, trigonometry, geometry, or pseudomathematics.

"I want that, but?—"

Royal shushed him, seeming to have read his thoughts, and snaked his index finger into Easton's mouth. "I've never hurt you and never given you a reason to distrust me."

Easton nodded. "I know."

"Then if you want me, too, tell me."

" Je fais ."

"Good." Royal rose from the sofa and extended his hand.

Easton accepted, allowing Royal to lead him to his bedroom. Linear lights in the built-in shelving unit illuminated the area with a soft pale-blue glow. Trophies and photos lined the rows of shelves, and models of planets and moons still dangled from the ceiling. A glass curio tucked under a window covered with dark drapes displayed a collection of Funko Pops! also highlighted with linear lights. Not much had changed in the room since they were teens. The familiarity offered comfort but not a granule of the comfort of Royal's embrace.

Within minutes, their clothes were in scattered piles on the floor, and Royal sauntered to where his unpacked duffel bag was resting on a chair. After a moment of rummaging, he returned with a condom and lube, pushed Easton onto the mattress, and crawled across him.

"You show less fear on those bulls."

Easton's brows knitted. "I don't care about those bulls. But you… I don't want to ruin us."

"If I can stand you cooking chitterlings and your rot gut after eating grillade a la chique all these years, I don't think I'm going anywhere. Now let Daddy work."

With his thigh, Royal knocked open Easton's legs and drizzled the lubricant across his taint. He gave it a few seconds before working it into Easton's hole, starting with one finger.

Biting his bottom lip, Easton sucked in a deep breath.

"Relax," Royal cooed, inserting a second digit. He probed with quick, hard strokes until the muscles eased around them. Withdrawing his fingers, Royal smiled. "You're ready." After rolling a condom over the length of his swollen member and adding more lube, Royal positioned himself at Easton's entrance. "I'll go slow." He stationed his hand on Easton's hip and breached the sphincter.

"Oh my…." Easton's eyes fluttered shut.

Royal stilled. "No, look at me."

Obediently, Easton opened his eyes and stared at the face of his lover. Inwardly, he smirked at how quickly he'd become contented using that word to describe Royal.

"Kiss me going in," he mewled.

Royal leaned forward and captured Easton's mouth with a deep, savoring kiss as he pushed completely inside with one languid movement. Easton whimpered as inch by glorious inch filled him. Pausing just long enough for Easton to regain his breath—and possibly his sanity—Royal thrust.

Clamping Royal's shoulders, Easton quivered as surges of pleasure jolted from his core and through his limbs. As the pace quickened, Royal's fingers dug into Easton's hips. The sounds of the bed squeaking, Royal's balls slapping against Easton's ass, and the wet sucking sound of the lube filled the room. Easton's ragged pants grew louder with every movement. However, when Royal reached between Easton's legs and began fisting his cock, Easton's pants converted into little more than audible puffs. The thumping of his heart roared in his ears and threatened to tear through his chest with the next thrust, and Easton's back arched against the mattress as a jet of semen shot out of him and landed on the base of Royal's throat. His heels dug into the mattress as a sunburst of blinding pleasure sparked at the root of his spine. A second stream hit Royal's chest and dripped down. On Easton's third spurt, Royal slammed into him and bellowed as he released inside.

Royal rolled off and molded his body around Easton, where they lay coupled in silence until their breathing returned to normal.

Sighing with contentment, Easton snuggled beneath the sheet. The look of unbridled ecstasy gracing his face was unmistakable as he drifted from the gluttonous clouds of a mind-deliquescing orgasm. He relished the feel of Royal's warm breath fanning across his shoulders and the soft pulse of Royal's pecs against his back each time he took a breath. This was real. But what else was real?

"Royal," Easton murmured, cocooned in Royal's embrace.

"Huh?" he responded drowsily.

"You did see it, didn't you? In the arena? The boo hag? J'suis pas fou de sa? "

"No, you're not crazy."

"But you don't believe me." Easton's shoulders sagged into the mattress.

Royal sighed and intensified his hug on Easton. "I do."

"Then why have you dismissed me? Why won't you discuss it with me?"

"Because you shouldn't talk about such things."

"Why not? That boo hag almost?—"

"It wasn't a boo hag. They only surface when you're asleep."

Easton's eyes grew wide, and he rose on his elbows. "You did see it."

" Oui ."

Easton waited. After Royal failed to continue, Easton probed. "What aren't you saying?"

* * *

Royal

Shit!

Royal winced. He'd known this moment was coming—dreaded it. However, he supposed he couldn't delay it any longer. Staring up at the model planets swaying slightly from the air conditioning, he was reminded that the universe was relentless in its demands and pointless to rebel against. Zeus swallowed his wife to prevent the birth of a child more powerful than him, and look how that turned out. It ended with the god being bashed in the head to relieve a debilitating migraine and a war goddess leaping out of the gaping wound. Royal wasn't a god and didn't need a hole in the head.

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