Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

Spencer

Spencer shook out his hands while he paced the floor in the gallery’s sterile, unpleasantly bright bathroom. He was dressed in a sharply-tailored black suit with a deep garnet dress shirt. Was it too much? He’d been aiming for young up-and-coming photographer , but was he actually serving dude into vampire cosplay ?

He fiddled with the third button of his shirt, unbuttoning and re-buttoning it over and over. How much exposed chest is appropriate at a gallery opening? He fastened the button and started pawing at his hair, making sure it was perfectly tousled without appearing intentionally styled. “How much longer?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Mickey answered as he washed his hands. He looked amazing, in a crisp blue suit, gold tie, and paisley pocket square.

“Should I have worn a tie?”

“You’re not really a tie kind of guy.” A slight flush rose on his cheeks. “I bought you something.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a square of cinnamon-colored silk. After tucking it carefully into Spencer’s breast pocket, he unfastened the button that Spencer had been fiddling with all evening. “There. What do you think?”

Spencer admired himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect.”

Mickey’s eyes lit up. “It completes the color story. See?” He pointed to Spencer’s shirt and pocket square, and then his tie. “Red, orange, gold. They’re the three colors in my pocket square, too. It’s a nod to the season.”

His boyfriend had come a long way from his stretched-out T-shirts and cargo shorts days. “When did you become so fashionable?”

Mickey chuckled. “Nathan is teaching me a few things.”

Jazz and Nathan made their relationship official at around the same time he and Mickey had. Although on paper Nathan and Mickey were an unlikely duo, they’d bonded immediately. Mickey loved Nathan like a big brother, and Nathan was fiercely protective of Mickey. It was heartwarming, seeing Mickey find people who cherished him as much as he did.

Spencer fanned his face. Grimacing, he ripped off a piece of paper towel and dabbed at the sweat beading on his brow. “Why is it a thousand fucking degrees in here?”

Mickey placed a reassuring hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Deep breaths, babe.”

Spencer forced air into his lungs and wilted with the exhale. “What if nobody comes?”

“People are going to come,” Mickey assured him. “And they’re going to love it.” He pulled Spencer into a hug.

Spencer buried his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck, inhaling his clean scent and taking comfort in the warmth of his embrace. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Mickey stroked Spencer’s hair. “You don’t have to.” He kissed his cheek and patted his bicep twice. “Ready to head out there?”

“Yeah, okay.” Whether he was or wasn’t, he couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night. Spencer gave his forehead a final wipe and tossed the paper towel into the trash. “Let’s go.”

The bathroom was in the back of the gallery, near a small office. The main gallery was a modest space, not much more than a large room with a couple of freestanding temporary partitions set up in the middle for additional work, but for the next month it was dedicated entirely to Spencer’s show.

“There you are,” the gallery owner said as he strode toward them with a pleasant smile on his face. Dominic was a striking older gentleman, with a full head of lush silver hair and fashionable horn-rimmed glasses perched on his long nose. Tonight he was dressed in a charcoal suit and a floral shirt in shades of magenta and teal.

Finding this gallery had been a huge win for Spencer. Dominic loved featuring the work of up-and-coming artists, and several local artists had launched successful careers through their association with him. Spencer couldn’t believe his luck when he’d been offered a solo exhibition for his first collection of photographs. It was clear Dominic had faith in his abilities, even if he still doubted himself on a nearly daily basis.

“I’ll be unlocking the doors in a few minutes, but before I do…” Dominic slyly opened his jacket as if he were a street vendor selling counterfeit watches. He produced a flask and took a pull from it before holding it out to Spencer. “Introvert’s courage.”

Spencer took a swig from the flask and shuddered as the alcohol burned a fiery path down his throat. “Dude, that tastes like lighter fluid.”

Dominic scoffed with mock outrage. “Hey, get out there and sell a lot of prints and I’ll buy the good stuff next time.” He offered the flask to Mickey, who politely declined. After taking another swig himself, he returned the flask to his breast pocket. He waved his hands under his chin, stood up straighter, and plastered a near-maniacal smile on his face. “Energy!” he said before leaving them to open the door and welcome guests.

In the calm before the storm, Spencer strolled hand in hand with Mickey through the gallery, taking one last look at his framed photographs on the walls. The exhibition, entitled Beaus and Eros , was the perfect blend of Spencer’s old life as a sex god and his new life as Mickey’s boyfriend.

The photographs featured real-life gay couples, men of all shapes and sizes, all tastefully nude. Some of the couples were in intimate positions, some in playful poses. They were kissing. Laughing. Holding each other. They were everyday men made beautiful and radiant through their love for one another.

At the front of the gallery, in a place of prominence that was clearly visible from the street, was a picture of Spencer hugging Mickey from behind. Mickey was leaning back into the hug, his head on Spencer’s shoulder, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his lips.

It was the photograph that had inspired the whole show. Every day, Mickey inspired Spencer. To be true to himself. To pursue his art. To be a better man.

Kinley Hughes had been right – Mickey was his muse.

Sudden doubt rocketed through Spencer. He’d invited Kinley to the show. What would his favorite fine art photographer – a man he practically idolized – think about his work? Would he see it as having artistic value, or would he dismiss it as glorified boudoir photography?

“What was I thinking when I invited Kinley? Am I making a fool of myself?”

“No, of course not,” Mickey said. “You two had a connection. He said he wanted to come to one of your shows in the future.”

“Maybe he was just being nice.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he genuinely liked your work. There’s no harm in extending an invitation.”

With a shy smile, Spencer admitted, “I hope he comes.”

“Me too. But if he doesn’t, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll have other shows.” Mickey kissed him and fixed his hair. “Try not to get in your head. This is your moment. Enjoy it.”

Dominic opened the doors, and the small group of patrons gathered outside started trickling in.

“I guess I should go and mingle with my adoring fans.”

Mickey chuckled. “I’m going to take advantage of having the night off and grab a glass of wine and some of those little sandwiches. Come and find me if you need a break.”

Spencer hugged him and then met Dominic at the door to greet guests as they arrived. Dominic was well-connected in the art community, so within twenty minutes of opening the doors the gallery was buzzing with conversation. Throughout the space, men and women clustered in small groups, moving languidly from picture to picture, pausing to appreciate the nuances in each photograph. Every few minutes someone would search Dominic out, and while they chatted, he would scroll and type on his tablet. Fingers crossed, it meant people were expressing interest in purchasing his work.

Spencer made the rounds, talking to patrons while they sipped wine and made polite comments about his pieces. Several of the men he’d photographed had shown up for the opening, and they entertained guests by telling funny stories about the photoshoots and sharing how it felt – mostly liberating, but sometimes a little intimidating – to have their bodies on display in an art gallery.

It wasn’t long before the other sex gods and their partners arrived, dressed to the nines and strutting through the doors like VIPs. They swarmed Spencer, passing him around for hugs and congratulatory pats on the back.

“This is amazing.” Ethan surveyed the space and nodded, impressed. “Great turnout.”

“I can’t believe I know a famous artist,” Blake said.

Spencer scoffed. “I’m hardly famous.”

“Mickey!” Blake called out, ignoring Spencer’s reply. He took Ethan’s hand and motioned with his chin. “Let’s go say hi to Mick and then find our picture.”

Their picture was one of the tamer ones. Spencer had photographed them lying shirtless in the grass at the park – Ethan resting his head on Blake’s chest while Blake sweetly stroked his hair.

Quinn and Henry, on the other hand, had the raciest picture in the collection. When he approached them about being part of the show, they’d asked to be photographed while making love on their anniversary. Henry was trying to be more uninhibited, and he wanted to do this for Quinn, to share something special with him. He’d never dream of posing for a stranger, he was quick to explain, but he trusted Spencer’s experience with capturing intimate moments on film.

Of all the photos he’d taken during their shoot, a clear favorite emerged. A shot where all the details were exquisite. There were titillating details: the swell of Henry’s buttock, Quinn’s knee drawn up, the sheen of sweat on their bodies. And romantic details: the warm glow of candlelight, the sensuous drape of the sheet over their legs, the fondness in Quinn’s eyes. But it was Henry’s expression – captured at the height of orgasm, a moment of complete freedom where he’d given himself entirely to his husband – that elevated the photograph to a work of art.

The picture was imbued with such intimate vulnerability that he thought for sure it would be for their eyes only, a gift for their anniversary. He was overcome with gratitude when they agreed to let him include it as the centerpiece of his show.

Henry cleared his throat. “So, um, is our picture getting some attention?”

Spencer stepped to the side and motioned to where their picture was centered on the back wall of the gallery, illuminated by two accent lights. People were gathered around it, chatting and pointing out their favorite details. “There’s been a lot of buzz about it.”

Quinn snuck a quick pinch of Henry’s butt, eliciting a startled yelp from his husband. “Shall we go give them something to talk about?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Henry placed him arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “Excuse us, Spencer. We have patrons to scandalize.” With that, they were off, making their way to the back of the gallery.

“I underestimated Henry,” Xander said. “The guy’s got game.” He pulled his best friend into a hug. “I’m proud of you, man.”

“Thanks.” Tears welled in Spencer’s eyes, and with an embarrassed chuckle he wiped them away. “I don’t know why I’m getting emotional.”

“It’s a big night.” Xander shook his head and swiped at his own eyes. “Now you got me going. Well, since I’m tearing up anyway, I might as well tell you that I love you. I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

Choked up and unable to form words, Spencer nodded.

“Have a good time tonight, buddy. You’ve earned it.” Xander waggled his eyebrows. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make the rounds and check out these beautiful men. Who knows, I might even look at the photographs.”

They laughed and hugged again, and Xander made a beeline for a handsome man who was standing by himself and scrolling on his phone.

Since everyone’s attention was now on his work rather than on him, it was a good time to regroup with some refreshments. Spencer made his way to the table near the door, where Dominic had set up quite a spread. He poured himself a glass of full-bodied Cabernet and stacked one of the paper plates with a selection of fancy hors d’oeuvres and sweets.

Behind him came a familiar voice with an Irish lilt. “Spencer Ewing.”

With the food and wine forgotten, Spencer turned to find his favorite photographer smiling at him.

“Kinley! You came.” Spencer extended his hand, which Kinley gripped in an enthusiastic handshake.

“Aye. I wouldn’t miss it. The invitation was intriguing.”

The invitation had featured the picture of Quinn and Henry.

“You know what they say, sex sells.” Spencer chuckled self-consciously. “My work isn’t like yours, for sure. I was a boudoir photographer, so that’s the direction I took. Play to your strengths, right?”

Kinley raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. I’ve had a stroll through the gallery. It’s a lovely collection you’ve put together here.”

“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

“My dear lad. I’ve spent my career searching for beauty in the ordinary. But I photograph things . Not people. Never had a knack for it. What you’ve done here is special. You see past the surface. You see what’s in here.” He touched his fingertips to Spencer’s chest, over his heart. “That’s a gift.”

Dominic stepped to the front of the gallery and clapped a few times. “Good evening, everyone. It’s time we meet the man of the hour, a bright young talent, and a man I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of in the years ahead. I’m proud to represent him for his first solo exhibition. It’s my great pleasure to introduce Spencer Ewing.” He held his open hand in Spencer’s direction.

Kinley squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. “It’s your time to shine.”

Spencer stepped forward and stood next to Dominic. Everyone in the gallery gathered around, waiting expectantly for him to speak. He searched the crowd and relaxed when he found Mickey standing with Jazz and Nathan. Mickey gave him a thumbs up and mouthed “ You got this. ”

“Hi everyone,” he said, his voice strained and reedy. He coughed and laughed nervously. “Sorry ’bout that. Usually I get to hide behind a camera.” There was a murmur of laughter in the crowd.

“Thank you for coming tonight and giving my work a chance. It means the world to me. I’d also like to thank my models, many of whom are here tonight.” In the front row, Xander cleared his throat with a loud ahem . Spencer rolled his eyes and laughed. “And my friends. Thank you for putting up with my craziness while I pulled this show together. Most of all, though, I’d like to thank my boyfriend Mickey for supporting me, and believing in me…well, for everything, actually.

“My life used to revolve around sex. I…got around.” He held his hands in front of himself. “Now don’t get me wrong. I still love sex. But my life changed a year ago when I met my boyfriend.” Spencer locked eyes with Mickey and spoke directly to the man he loved. “He opened my eyes to what I’d been missing. Like, what an incredible experience it is to make love to someone. Or how awesome it is to get to know everything about another person and tell him things you’ve never told anyone else. Before I met Mickey, I never imagined that the highlight of my week would be a long walk with our dog, or cuddling up on the couch to watch a movie. He showed me that everything is better with someone you love.

“So, tonight’s about celebrating love.” Several people raised their wine glasses. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”

“Hear! Hear!” Dominic said, leading the applause. He addressed the gathering again, but Spencer didn’t hear a word he said as he made his way to Mickey.

“Can I borrow Mickey for a sec?” he asked Jazz.

“Sure.” She hugged Spencer and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Spencer smiled and took Mickey’s hand. “Follow me.” He led Mickey through the gallery, nodding and thanking patrons as he passed them.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” When they got to Dominic’s office, Spencer fished around in his pocket for the key and unlocked the door. “Dominic said I could borrow his office for the night.”

The office was cozy but cluttered, with haphazard stacks of paper on the desk and books piled two rows deep in a squat bookcase. Spencer ushered Mickey inside and closed the door behind them.

“I have something for you.” Spencer reached into his back pocket and handed Mickey a folded-up piece of notebook paper.

“Is that our list?” Mickey asked. The two of them had been working through their own fuck-it list of sexual fantasies. The list was much tamer than Spencer’s original, but none of his previous experiences had been anywhere near as fun or as meaningful as what he and Mickey were sharing now.

“I added a new entry.”

Mickey leaned in, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “Is it to fuck in an art gallery?”

Mickey had gotten much more comfortable with swearing, especially during sex, but hearing him say “fuck” was still thrilling. Spencer would joke sometimes that he’d corrupted him, that he’d tarnished his purity, but in reality he’d freed Mickey to be himself. He’d given him the permission to do and say all the things he’d wanted to for so long.

“No lube,” Mickey said. “I guess I could give you a blow job.” He reached for Spencer’s belt buckle, but Spencer stopped his hand.

“It’s probably easier if you just read what I wrote.”

While Mickey unfolded the list, Spencer lowered himself to one knee. His heart pounded in his ears as Mickey’s eyes scanned the page. He registered the exact moment when Mickey read the new entry, Spencer’s most fervent desire:

Marry the love of my life.

Mickey lowered the list, and his breath caught when he saw Spencer kneeling before him.

Reaching into his breast pocket, Spencer produced a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a satin-finish titanium band. “Please say yes.”

Mickey’s eyes filled with tears, which spilled over when he blinked. “ Yes ,” he croaked. He laughed and cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.” He plucked the ring from the box, jumped to his feet, and slipped the ring onto Mickey’s finger. “Do you like it?”

Mickey turned the band slowly, smiling at the way it caught the light. “I love it. And I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

They shared their first kiss as fiancés.

When they rejoined their friends a few minutes later, Blake asked, “Where did you guys disappear to?”

Mickey held up his hand to show off his ring finger. “We’re engaged!”

Their friends rushed to surround them, cheering, offering congratulations, and scooping them up in hugs. In the midst of the huddle, Spencer caught Mickey’s eye and mouthed “ I love you .”

I love you, Mickey Briggs.

There were rules to being a sex god, and Spencer no longer cared about any of them. He was too focused on the rules he’d written for being Mickey’s husband:

1. Don’t go to sleep without saying “I love you.”

2. Make him laugh as often as possible.

3. Tell him every day how special he is.

4. Never let him go.

Spencer was looking forward to living by those rules for the rest of his life.