Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Spencer

Spencer sang to himself while he worked some product through his hair. He could tell from the music and the buzz of conversation that several of his guests had arrived, and his birthday party was starting without him.

His phone chimed with a text. With a clean knuckle, he unlocked his screen and smiled when he saw the message from Mickey.

MICKEY

I’m going to a really cool guy’s party tonight. Which shirt should I wear?

Another message came through – a picture of three of the shirts Spencer had picked out for him.

Spencer washed the hair paste off his fingers and, after a moment’s consideration, answered:

SPENCER

The grey plaid one.

With your dark jeans.

He slid open the door to the medicine cabinet over the sink. Between the two of them, Spencer and Xander had no less that twelve bottles of cologne. One by one, he passed over the bottles until he found the one he was looking for – the marine blue bottle of Dior Sauvage. He sprayed a bit on his wrist, rubbed both wrists together, and drew them down the sides of his neck.

The fresh, woodsy scent of this cologne always gave him a boost in confidence. He wanted to be sex on legs for Mickey tonight. To make his first time as memorable as possible. He smoothed his hands down his skintight black T-shirt, admiring the way it clung to his pecs.

Another text from Mickey came through, causing Spencer to chuckle.

MICKEY

How about shoes?

Someone banged impatiently on the door. “Stop jerking off and get your ass out here,” Xander yelled.

“Jeez, just a sec,” Spencer yelled back. He grabbed his phone off the sink and texted back.

SPENCER

Your blue suede sneakers.

When Spencer opened the bathroom door, his roommate was leaning against the doorframe and grinning at him. “You look hot,” Xander said. He leaned in to sniff Spencer’s neck. “Oh, the Sauvage. You’re pulling out the big guns. Mick doesn’t stand a chance. C’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

He led Spencer into the living room and waved over a good-looking guy with a golden tan and rich, black hair slicked back off his forehead. Lithe and muscular, the man crossed the room with the grace of a panther. He was wearing a lightweight white shirt, unbuttoned to mid-chest. Through the sheer fabric, Spencer could make out the dark circles of his nipples as well as a tattoo of a serpent on his left pec.

“This is Cato,” Xander said, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “The client I told you about.” He bobbed his chin in Spencer’s direction. “This is Spencer. The birthday boy.”

Cato shook Spencer’s hand while his eyes raked down his body. When their eyes met again, Cato’s lips slid into a smile. “Nice meeting you, Spencer.” His husky baritone voice was colored by an accent that made Spencer weak in the knees. “I can get you a drink?”

Spencer nodded and struggled to maintain eye contact, fighting against the nearly irresistible urge to stare at the man’s nipples. “Sure. Bourbon.”

“Alexander?” Cato said.

“I’ll take the same. Thanks.”

Cato sauntered toward the drink table, peeking over his shoulder and winking at Spencer before he stepped behind a group of guys vaping.

“I love the way he says my name. Alexander .” Xander enunciated every syllable in a fair approximation of Cato’s silky accent. He threw his arm around Spencer's shoulders. “Hot, huh? He's an underwear model.”

“Good for him.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Xander playfully slapped Spencer’s arm. “I’ve been training him for a campaign, and he’s totally into me. I plan to have his designer underwear on my bedroom floor by the end of the night.” He nudged Spencer’s hip with his own. “You remember sex, right?”

Spencer scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve just been so distracted by Mick lately.” Xander looked off into the distance and stroked his chin with mock thoughtfulness. “Hmm, how long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?”

“Come on, it hasn’t been that long.”

“Really?”

“I just hooked up with that guy Riley the other day.”

“His name was Rory. And that was three weeks ago.”

“No, it…” Spencer did the quick calculation in his head and was surprised to discover Xander was right. Three weeks. It’s not like he’d never gone a week or two without sex. He was a slut but he still had a life outside of Grindr. Truth be told, though, since he’d met Xander he hadn’t ever gone a full three weeks without hooking up. He usually couldn’t make it longer than a week before he’d be climbing the walls.

And now he’d gone nearly a month, only jerking off a handful of times – always fantasizing about Mickey.

“I’ve been busy,” he muttered.

“Just think, once you’ve had your fun with Mick tonight you can get back in the saddle again.”

Cato made his way over to them with the three drinks balanced in his hands. He handed a glass to both Spencer and Xander and then held his up for a toast. “To a happy and…” He turned to Xander. “Pródigo?”

After a moment of consideration, Xander suggested, “Bountiful?”

“Yes. Bountiful.” Cato smiled warmly at Spencer. “To a happy and bountiful year ahead.”

“Cheers.” Spencer clinked their glasses and took his first sip of what he hoped would be an endless supply of mind-numbing whiskey, enough to make him forget he was now thirty.

Cato hummed deep in his chest. “Alexander did not tell me his roommate was so good-looking.”

“Wha—” Spencer swallowed wrong and nearly choked on his whiskey. He started coughing uncontrollably, propelling alcohol into his nasal passages and causing his eyes to water from the burn.

Cato patted him on the back, thumping between his shoulder blades in a way that wasn’t helping. Once Spencer had recovered, Cato’s hand trailed down to his bicep and lingered. “Do you train with Alexander also?” he asked.

Xander narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingernail against his glass. “I can show you the home gym I’ve set up, Cato. It’s in my bedroom.”

Cato looked between the two men, confused. “It’s Spencer’s birthday. We should spend time with him, no?”

Xander’s mouth flattened into a tight, tense line. “Are you sure you should be starting with bourbon, roomie?” He turned to Cato with an apologetic shake of his head. “Spencer loves whiskey, but if he has even a couple of drinks, he can’t get it up.”

Spencer cringed and mumbled under his breath. “For fuck’s sake.” His party had barely begun, and he was already trapped in a competition for the attention of a man he had no interest in winning.

Please, Mickey. Get here soon.

Mickey

“Mickey, it’s going to be great. I promise.”

The sound of Jazz’s voice brought Mickey back to the moment. He tore his eyes away from Spencer’s apartment door and focused on his friend, smiling at him from his phone’s screen. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was completely dry.

“I’m sorry I had to cancel our plans,” Mickey said. “I should be there with you listening to The Nanny Files .” Testing new recipes and listening to their favorite podcast had been Mickey and Jazz’s Saturday night tradition for months. Hosted by a nanny with a brash and irreverent sense of humor, The Nanny Files featured heartwarming and hilarious stories from nannies across the country. Laughing and getting wine drunk with his best friend while they ate warm-from-the-oven cookies sounded so much more enticing than whatever unknown experience waited for him behind the closed door.

“We can listen to the new episode next week. I’m okay sharing you with your new friends. As long as I’ll always be your favorite,” Jazz teased.

Mickey’s face relaxed, his anxious expression giving way to a genuine smile. “Always.”

“Good. Now get in there, have a drink, and relax. It’ll be fun. Do you have your make out kit?”

Mickey patted his pocket where he’d stashed his lip balm and peppermint breath spray. “All set. I’m moisturized and deodorized.”

“Perfect. Go get your man.”

“He’s not my man.”

“Not yet.” In the background, Izzy cried and screeched Mommy. “Got to go, hon. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Mickey said quickly before Jazz hung up. He slid his phone into his back pocket and dragged his sweaty palms over his jeans.

He rapped on the door three times. Hearing no movement inside the apartment, he shook out his hands and rolled back on his heels. He willed himself not to turn around and race down the hallway toward the elevator, a choice that was becoming more and more attractive the longer he waited.

As he raised his hand to knock again, the door swung inward, and a drunk-happy Spencer pulled him into a hug. “You’re here!”

Mickey wrapped his arms around his friend and relaxed into the embrace, resting his head on Spencer’s shoulder. God, he smelled good. Like whiskey and woodsy, spicy cologne. Before Mickey could embarrass himself by burying himself in his neck and inhaling his scent, Spencer pulled back but kept his hands on Mickey’s shoulders.

“You look amazing.” Spencer’s voice was a sultry murmur barely audible over the background buzz of the party. Self-conscious from the attention, Mickey looked at the floor, but he hoped his small, nervous smile let Spencer know he appreciated the compliment.

“Come on in,” Spencer said. He ushered Mickey into his apartment and closed the door. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Whiskey, I guess?”

“Whiskey it is. I’ll be right back.”

While he waited for Spencer to return, Mickey surveyed the room, his arms crossed and his fingers restlessly tapping his ribs. The lights were low, with lamps and candles providing a warm illumination. Spencer’s interior design was minimalist. All the walls were white, which provided a clean backdrop for the black and white photographs hanging in black frames throughout the space. Mickey took a keen interest in the one hanging near the front door, pretending to study it. He wasn’t quite ready to mingle with the attractive, well-dressed men chatting and drinking in clusters throughout the apartment.

“Mick!”

He spun around to see Quinn waving and beckoning him to join him and Henry near the back of the living room. He made his way through the crowd, doing his best to give a polite head nod to the men who turned to check out the newcomer.

“You made it.” Quinn threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders in a half-hug.

“Good seeing you again,” Henry said before taking a swig of his beer. Although Henry was dressed like a dad picking up his kid from daycare – in his blue dress shirt, jeans, and penny loafers – his husband was dressed to kill. Quinn looked fantastic in a silky grey shirt and sharply tailored slacks.

Quinn leaned closer to Mickey and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Nice shirt. Very sexy.”

“Shut up,” Mickey said, bumping his shoulder against Quinn’s and struggling to contain his smile.

A young man with a glassy, unfocused gaze wandered closer and hovered near Mickey for a full thirty seconds before he ran a hand through his messy coffee-brown bangs and drawled, “Hellloooo.”

“Mick, this is Ian. One of Spencer’s friends from college.” Quinn put a supportive hand on Ian’s chest when he swayed forward.

“Do you have a telescope?” Ian asked, slurring the word into telethcope .

Mickey’s brows drew together. “What? A telescope?”

“Yeah, ’cause I’d really like to see Uranus.” Ian swayed backward, snickering at his own joke.

Xander swooped in out of nowhere and pointed Ian in the direction of the kitchen. “I think somebody needs some water. Say goodbye to Mick.”

“Bye Mick,” Ian said before tripping over his own feet and nearly faceplanting.

Quinn chuckled. “Ian’s a good guy. He just got started a little early tonight.” He pulled something that looked like a pen out of his pocket and puffed on the end a couple times. He held it out to Mickey. “Puff?” When Mickey didn’t answer, Quinn leaned in and lowered his voice. “It’s pot.”

“Um, okay.” Mickey took the pen and grimaced. “I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s easy,” Quinn assured him. “That’s the business end. Put it between your lips like a cigarette and inhale.”

Tentatively, Mickey put the vape pen to his lips and sucked in a breath. He smacked his tongue at the bitter, earthy taste that filled his mouth.

“Take another hit,” Quinn prompted. “But this time make sure you breathe it into your lungs and hold it in before you exhale.”

Mickey tried again – a longer, smoother inhale than his first awkward attempt. He handed the pen to Henry. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Give it a minute or two,” Henry said before taking his own hit.

“Sorry I took so long,” Spencer said, coming up behind Mickey and handing him a glass of whiskey. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Mickey was eager to prove to Spencer that he was an adult and didn’t need to be babied, and smoking pot felt like a very adult thing to do. Still, he didn’t want to give the impression that he was an experienced drug user. “This is my first time.”

Never one to miss an opportunity to make a lewd or inappropriate comment, Xander hooked his chin over Spencer’s shoulder and said, “Perhaps it’s a night of firsts.” He nudged Spencer with his hip so that he rocked into Mickey. “The night is young. Who knows what, or who, you might get into?”

Spencer elbowed Xander in the ribs. “Cut it out.”

Glancing nervously at the men around him, Mickey took a drink of his whiskey to give his hands something to do. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Xander’s sexually charged banter. He should say something. To show he’s cool with it. Maybe laugh along…

His thoughts stuttered, and relaxation rolled through him like a wave of honey, warm and heavy. His eyelids fluttered and his lips slid into a lazy, dopey smile. “I think I’m feeling something.”

“Nice, huh?” Quinn held out his pen. “Want another hit?”

“Sure,” Mickey said. He took a nice, slow inhale before handing the pen back.

Xander plucked it out of his hands. “I want in on this. Quinn buys the good stuff.”

While Xander was distracted with the vape pen, Spencer said, “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to my other friends.”

He led Mickey through the room, pausing to introduce him whenever they came upon a group of guests. All of Spencer’s friends were welcoming. They shook his hand and asked him about himself. Shared silly stories about Spencer. A few even told him he was cute.

Not one of them acted like he didn’t belong there.

Mickey couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this good. This relaxed. He drank the last of his whiskey, and as the amber liquid burned pleasantly in his throat, time seemed to stretch like taffy. Was he moving in slow motion?

One of the guys he’d met earlier – was his name Brad? Brett? – raced over and tapped Spencer on the shoulder. He whispered a frantic message, eliciting a frown from Spencer.

“Sorry, emergency in the bathroom,” Spencer said. “Why don’t you go grab some food? I’ll find you when I’m done.” He patted Mickey on the shoulder and was gone before Mickey could say anything.

Mickey excused himself from the conversation and pointed to the table by the kitchen. “I guess I’m going to, uh…get something to eat.”

There was quite an impressive spread of food laid out next to the beer and bottles of top-shelf liquor. Tiny sandwiches, cheese and crackers, chips, candied cashews, and a tray of vegetables with dip. Mickey’s stomach gave an interested grumble when he saw the plate of miniature desserts: pastel-colored macarons, frosted mini cupcakes, and brownie bites with crackly tops. He popped one of the brownies into his mouth and savored the rich chocolate flavor. Had brownies ever tasted this good before? Suddenly, all he wanted to do was eat. He picked up a plate and started stacking it with one of everything.

Xander appeared out of nowhere and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He watched Mickey with obvious amusement. “Having fun?”

“I guess,” Mickey mumbled. He nibbled on one of the sandwiches, less enthusiastic than he was a moment ago.

Xander leaned against the table. “Did you get to meet everyone?”

Mickey shifted the food around on his plate. Being the focus of Xander’s attention still made him nervous. It was like being sized up by a snake. Or a honey badger. “Yeah. Everyone is really cool.”

Xander smirked. “Cool.” He watched Mickey over the lip of his glass while he took a long sip of his whiskey.

Words bubbled up and out of Mickey before he could swallow them down. “Why don’t you like me?”

Xander raised his eyebrows and lowered his glass. “I like you just fine, Mick. I’m a dick to everyone.”

Mickey wasn’t convinced, but he gave Xander a tentative smile all the same.

“You look good tonight,” Xander said.

Mickey scoffed. “I don’t look like a clueless virgin?”

Xander slid an empty glass toward Mickey and poured him a shot of whiskey. “Listen, I know I can be a lot. I can be a jerk, especially when I first meet someone. But you’re one of the guys now. We look out for one another.” He nodded toward the glass. “Liquid courage. Good for making your inhibitions go bye-bye.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mickey downed the whiskey in two quick gulps, shuddering at the burn.

Xander pulled a miniature tin of mints out of his pocket and offered one to Mickey before popping a couple in his mouth. “Spencer’s bedroom is free. If you two wanted to be alone for any reason.”

The burn from the whiskey was nothing compared to the burn that spread from Mickey’s cheeks to the tips of his ears at Xander’s implication. His stomach dropped with a sudden rush. “Like, what kind of reason?”

Xander nodded his chin to where Spencer was standing in the middle of the living room, scanning the crowd. When he saw Mickey, he smiled and weaved through the guests on his way over.

With a shrug, Xander said, “Wish him a happy birthday.” He pushed off the table and sidled up to a beautiful man in a sheer white shirt with a tattoo on his pec. With a finger on his jaw, Xander gently turned the man’s face away from Spencer and toward himself.

Mickey’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. He put his hand over the paper folded in his back pocket. You can do this.

“Sorry about that,” Spencer said when he got to the food and drink table. “Ian threw up. I got him cleaned up and stationed on the couch with a bottle of water. He’s in a weird mood. He asked Brett if it hurt when he fell from heaven, and then asked if I was a camera because he smiles whenever he looks at me.”

“He asked me if I had a telescope.”

After a beat, Spencer shook his head. “Because he wants to see Uranus.” They shared a laugh, and locked eyes. Mickey’s vision narrowed until all he could see was Spencer. His beautiful smile. That skintight black T-shirt.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, is there some place private where we can talk?”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth turned up, carving a dimple in his cheek. “Of course. We can go to my room.” He took Mickey’s hand and led him through the crowd.

Xander subtly mimed a blow job as they passed by.

Oh my god. I might have sex tonight. Now. In the next few minutes.

Spencer opened the door to his room, and Mickey’s gaze landed on the huge king-sized bed.

He crunched down on the mint Xander had given him, crushing it to powder between his molars.

A single phrase played on endless repeat in his head. Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.