Tentacle on 34th Street (Tinsel and Tentacles 2.0)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“ A re you going to explain what happened today?” Qylar asked.

Cryss avoided Qylar’s too knowing glance as he drew his jeans up over his hips. He didn’t know how to put it into words. “I’m not exactly sure I know what happened today.”

“Well, we can both agree that I did you a solid with that bet.”

Cryss scoffed. “No more bets after this one. I’m done with these shenanigans of yours.”

“As if you haven’t been in on those shenanigans of mine.” Qylar grinned, wickedness in the wolfy glint in his eyes. “If I hadn’t won and made you say yes, you wouldn’t be here right now making goo-goo eyes at that human. Seems like you owe me big.”

Perhaps he did. He wasn’t sure yet. Cryss had lost that stupid, asinine bet, and his punishment had been—saying yes. For one whole day, he wasn’t allowed to say the word no to anyone. After Qylar had grown exhausted forcing Cryss to agree that he was an idiot, a dumbass, a dumbass idiot, and that his face made babies cry, they’d gone out for lunch, where a rep from a modeling agency had approached their table right after the check had been delivered.

The agent had looked them both over and asked Cryss, “I have a client who’s searching for a man who looks just like you. Would you be interested in modeling?”

Of course Cryss didn’t want to be a model, but as Qylar had eagerly awaited a ‘no’—which would’ve cost him another three day of yeses—he agreed. He planned to call back the following day to decline the offer and be done with it. Only, Qylar had suggested they go straight to the M&A Models office and sign the contract without delay—to which he couldn’t say no. As soon as the ink was dry, they offered him his first assignment.

With Qylar at his side, he’d had to say yes again.

Cryss could’ve wrung Qylar’s neck, especially after he found out the assignment was an underwear campaign where he’d play a sexy Santa in skimpy skivvies and that the whole of Earth might see him almost naked. Qylar had laughed like a hyena for hours after and insisted he come with Cryss for moral support. Support was a misnomer. Qylar had wanted to witness Cryss’s further humiliation up close and personal.

Only things had taken a very humorless turn upon their arrival. With his better-than-human hearing, he’d heard Alex’s voice, and a tickle of recognition had traveled up his spine. When he quickly realized the man was being assaulted, he’d jumped into action. His heart had skipped a beat when he’d gazed upon the man connected to that voice. Sadly that first glance had happened while his hand had been around the predator’s throat and he’d seen red, ready to break Thor in half. It wasn’t the way he’d have wanted to meet Alex, with murderous rage in his eyes.

At least he’d gotten a chance to wring someone’s neck.

He hadn’t nixed the plan to wring Qylar’s, even after meeting Alex. He was reserving that until the ads came out and he saw how ridiculous he looked.

Cryss scanned the makeup area of the studio, searching for the human, but came up empty. Glancing back at Qylar, he opened his mouth to share a shocking discovery, but paused, still unsettled by what was happening. He seemed to be hearing whispers of Alex’s thoughts in his mind. Not fully formed, but tidbits here and there, some stronger than others.

That, more than words, was what had sent him into that rage. Cryss had felt Alex’s panic as much as heard it.

Many, many centuries ago, his kind had had the ability to communicate telepathically in both of their forms. For some reason, they’d lost that skill while in human form some five hundred years before. They could still converse while in their full tentacled form as long as the other being was relatively close. It made communication while underwater easier. Some thought the ease of their verbal ability as a man had been the reason behind the loss. They’d used the skill far less often and eventually it had vanished.

He wasn’t sure what it meant that he was suddenly hearing and feeling the thoughts of a human—a human he craved to draw near and never let go. Alex had been rattled after the assault and panic attack, and Cryss’s protective instincts had roared to life. He’d watched the man all day, worried that another panic attack would hit, considering what had happened.

“I need to check in with Alex before we go,” Cryss said.

“By all means,” Qylar murmured, his knowing glance abrading Cryss’s too raw nerves.

He wended through the sets until he found the man standing between Jonas and Scott as they reviewed the shots of the day with Mickey.

“These are amazing. I see so many of these that would work great on social media,” Alex said. “Great work, Mickey.”

“Thanks,” Mickey said, with a broad, proud grin. “I couldn’t have done it without Jonas’s help.”

“Awe,” Jonas said, rubbing Mickey’s upper arm.

“You can zip these and email me and Jonas tonight?” Alex asked the photographer.

“You’ll have them in about an hour,” Mickey said.

“Perfect. Jonas, I’ll send them to our graphic artists so they can start working on mock-ups of the early season ads tomorrow.”

“You’re doing that tomorrow morning, right? It’s eight p.m. now,” Jonas said.

“I’m fine,” Alex argued. His gaze flipped up and met Cryss’s. The human’s posture changed, pupils widening.

Cryss could feel Alex’s desire, and it fed his own.

“Is there something I can help you with, Cryss?” Alex asked, frowning.

“I was hoping to get a moment alone?”

“I think we’re done here,” Jonas said to Scott and Mickey. “Let’s wrap it up and get out of here. Early day tomorrow.”

Cryss smiled to himself over the speed the trio left them alone, but that humor faded as he felt fear from Alex. Of course he feels fear. He watched me strangle a man with one hand.

Alex didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He rubbed his palms over his stomach, then drove one through his short, wavy chestnut hair, before settling on crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve had a rough day. I just want to make sure you’ll get home safe. I can escort you out, if you’d like?”

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary,” Alex murmured, unable to make direct eye contact. His breathing grew a bit labored.

Cryss took a step closer, but no more. Alex seemed flighty, and he didn’t want to add any anxiety to an already harrowing day. “I’d rest better tonight if you’d allow me to walk you to your car and know you’re safely on your way home.”

“No car. I biked here.”

That wouldn’t do. Not at all. “I have a truck. I’ll put your bike in the back and drive you home.”

“I don’t think we should. It would be inappropriate.”

Cryss frowned. “Me ensuring you got home safely would be inappropriate?”

“No. The inappropriate part would come after when I asked you up to my apartment and into my bed,” Alex thought loud and clear.

A tremor rose up Cryss’s spine. His hands fisted at his sides. That hadn’t been a whisper but a full, gut-punching thought as clear as day.

“It’s just… it’s been a weird day and I’m not myself,” Alex said aloud. “And there’s this weird energy between us. I don’t mix business with pleasure, just to put that out there, so…”

“After tomorrow, there’s no more business between us,” Cryss murmured. “I think I can wait another day.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Well, tomorrow and a day after that.”

Cryss frowned. “I was told this was a two-day shoot.”

“The contract was for a two-day shoot and the parade.”

“What parade?” Cryss asked, narrowing his eyes.

“The Rainbow Reindeer Rally,” Alex replied. “It’s a new queer Christmas parade here in the city the day before Thanksgiving. You’re going to be on the PridePack float and be the parade’s Santa.”

“There was no mention of a parade at M&A.”

Alex frowned. “That was in the contract packet we sent over to them.”

Cryss growled under his breath and cracked his neck. He’d need to review the contract when he got home. He’d have remembered mention of a parade. Qylar’s going to love this. “Will I also be in skimpy briefs on this float?”

“Well, yeah. It’s the PridePack float. We’d want you wearing our product. That’s the whole point.”

Cryss clenched his jaw. Qylar would pay dearly if he was forced to participate nearly naked in a parade through the city. There was no point arguing until he eyed the contract. “Let’s table that and return to you getting home safely. I’m offering a ride and nothing else. No personal crossing into the professional. You have my word.”

Alex held his stare a few seconds before breaking it and staring at the floor. “It is late… and I’m tired.” His glaze flipped up. “As long as we keep it completely professional.”

“My word is my bond.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Alex said.

“You’re welcome.”

Alex’s face reddened. “Not just for the ride, but earlier, too. I don’t think I thanked you for what you did.”

“I’m glad I was here to help.” More than glad. He was thankful he’d been in the right place at the right time. He cringed inwardly, reminding himself not to say that to Qylar.

“Me, too.” Alex backed away from him. “I just need to grab my stuff.”

“I can help,” Cryss said, following to assist. He grabbed Alex’s bike as the man slid some documents into a messenger bag and drew it over his body. Cryss snuck peeks at Alex’s lithe form, wondering what it looked like under all those clothes.

As soon as Alex was packed up, he escorted the human downstairs and laid the bike carefully into the bed of his F-150 Raptor before opening the door for his guest.

“I can open doors,” Alex said, fighting a smile.

He lifted a brow. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Alex climbed into the cab without another word. Cryss shut the door and ambled to the driver’s side. As soon as they were both buckled in and he’d started the engine, he turned to Alex. “Where’s home?”

Before Alex could answer, a knock sounded at Cryss’s window. He lowered it, and Qylar stood there with a shit-eating grin. “Forget about me?”

Cryss growled and narrowed his eyes.

Qylar chuckled and quickly climbed into the backseat of the cab, which wasn’t so easy for a hulking six-foot-seven man in the narrow space. Once he was inside, he leaned both elbows on the center console between them and tucked both fists under his chin. “So where we goin’?”

“I’m escorting Alex home,” Cryss said through clenched teeth.

“And then what?” Qylar asked, batting his eyelashes.

“I suppose you and I can go grab some dinner after,” Cryss said under his breath.

“Did you not get any pizza?” Alex asked. “I made sure everyone had something to eat since we worked late.”

“We did,” Qylar said. “But we’re big, active, growing boys. We like our food. We could’ve eaten most of those pizzas ourselves.”

“I wish you’d said something. I could’ve ordered more. I’ll make sure we get in extra food tomorrow night,” Alex said.

“It’s fine,” Cryss replied. “Don’t do that.”

“You could always invite Alex to join us for dinner,” Qylar said, fluttering his lashes again. “We can show him what a healthy appetite you have.”

“No,” Cryss said under his breath. “We’re simply taking him home.”

“Ugh,” Qylar groused before sitting back. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Cryss almost shifted into gear before remembering he didn’t know where he was going. He canted his gaze to Alex. “Address?”

Alex rattled it off. “I’ll point out the way.”

“No need,” Cryss said. “I have an idea where that is.”

Cryss pulled out from the space he’d been lucky to get so close to the studio and aimed them toward Alex’s. He leaned on the console, like he always did, getting comfortable. Human vehicles weren’t made for men his size, so he was forced to spread out a bit. Glancing at Alex as he pulled up to a red light, he noticed the human leaning toward the door, as if he were afraid they’d touch. “Sorry. I take up a lot of room in here. I promise I don’t bite.”

Alex turned and met Cryss’s gaze. A streetlight washed over his face, making it easier to see the countless golden specks in his blue-green eyes, which were the same shade as the seas back home. Cryss could get lost in those eyes forever.

“You are… big.”

Cryss held Alex’s gaze and never wanted to look away. An ache gnawed in his belly, a hunger to have the man all to himself and shut out the outside world. He leaned a little closer and fought a smile when Alex swayed a bit toward him instead of away. The car behind them beeped, and Cryss turned to see the light had changed. He stomped on the gas and sighed. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Alex rubbed his hands on his thighs.

Anxious energy filled the cab. He scratched his beard, itching instead to reach for Alex’s hand to offer calm. He asked a question, hoping talking might focus Alex’s nervous energy. “How often do you do these shoots for PridePack?”

“Holiday, Valentine’s, Spring, Summer, Halloween, any big sales, and new line premieres. Holiday is the biggest, of course. PridePack makes almost half their yearly sales over the season so it’s where we focus most of our money and time. The other shoots are a cakewalk by comparison.”

“I guess that means you’re pretty busy during Christmas.”

“The warehouse, yes. Me and my team? Not so much. We have to have all of our holiday ads and commercials submitted in advance. This shoot is usually in early August, and we’d be almost done by now, but we had a shakeup at the top and had to wait way too long for approval for my campaign and budget. It’s going to be a crazy six or seven weeks for us, trying to get three months of work done in half that, but then we’re done for the most part.”

“Which means you get to enjoy the holiday,” Cryss murmured. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

“I grew up celebrating it, but I’m not really a big holiday guy.”

“Oh? Jonas mentioned the set was built off your sketches. As whimsical as it is, I assumed otherwise.”

“Christmas has become too commercial—which I know is rich coming from a Marketing Director who capitalizes on that commercialism every holiday season.” Alex sighed. “Maybe that’s why I struggle to enjoy it. I know what people in my field do to persuade folks to part with their hard-earned dollars. So many use highly manipulative ads that push people to buy things they don’t even need. This country is swimming in debt, and it’s largely because of our disposable economy.” Alex snorted. “Sorry. I jumped on my soapbox, and you didn’t want to hear all that. My own family has dubbed me Scrooge for my views on Christmas.”

“I asked, so of course I wanted to hear all that,” Cryss said. “If it bothers you so much, why do you do this job?”

“I sort of fell into it. I started in social media marketing straight out of college, back before things have devolved on most platforms. Once I’d worked my way up, it was hard to shift to a new career. I try to be careful about who I work for. I choose companies I feel are making a good impact on the world.”

“And an underwear company is doing that?” Cryss asked, a bit dubious.

“PridePack started as a company by gay men for gay men, but it’s branched out since, offering products geared for all queer people. I’m proudest of our gender-non-specific and gender-affirming lines. We were one of the first companies to make them widely available and in various styles. I know it doesn’t sound like much to most people, but say for instance, you were born female but identify as male. It can be difficult to find underwear that fits your body, doesn’t accentuate curves, or come in lace and ribbons. We receive letters every day from trans and non-binary people, thanking us for offering something that fits well and doesn’t worsen their body dysmorphia or mental health. So, yeah. Underwear has changed lives. Add in that we also sponsor and support many queer causes and charities, and I think this company’s doing enough good to balance the scales and be worthy of me adding to the rampant commercialism in our society.”

“I’m glad to hear that since my face and body will be splashed all over and tied to your brand.”

“I hear M&A just brought you in and this is your first contract?” Alex asked. “Or are you just new to M&A and have modeled before?”

“I’ve never modeled before, and you are my first.” Cryss chuckled. “And my last.”

“Was today that bad? I’m sorry if we ruined your view of the business. Was it what happened with Thor?”

“It wasn’t that, and it wasn’t bad, per se. I got to meet you, so I’d say the rest was worth it.”

Alex grew quiet beside him.

Cryss tapped the brakes at another red light and turned to eye the man. “I never wanted to model. I lost a bet and had to do this as my penance.”

“A bet?” Alex’s eyes widened a few seconds before they softened. “I guess I’m lucky you lost that bet.”

Cryss met Alex’s stare, captivated by the lust in the human’s eyes. When green light washed over Alex’s face, he forced himself to focus on the road again.

“I’m just the next block up. You can pull behind that blue Prius.”

Cryss chuckled. “The blue Prius by the tree or the blue Prius on the other side?”

“There’s another blue Prius?” Alex asked. “I don’t see it. The tree, by the way.”

Cryss pulled in and tossed the truck into Park. Turning slightly, he met Alex’s gaze.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” Cryss murmured. His focus dropped to Alex’s lips, the need to taste them at the forefront of his mind.

Alex’s tongue peeked out, washing over the lower lip as if sensing Cryss’s thoughts. Cryss leaned a little closer. He flipped his gaze up, and the heat in Alex’s eyes was unmistakable.

“Fuck, I wanna kiss him so bad,” Alex thought.

Cryss was tempted, and almost went for it, but he’d promised no lines would be crossed. Alex had made his line in the sand, and he’d honor it, especially after what happened with Thor.

“I wanna do a lot more than kiss him,” Alex thought. “I saw him in those briefs, though. I don’t know if I could take a man that big. I’d have to start prepping.”

Cryss’s cock thickened painfully against his zipper, and he moved his hips to adjust himself. He sat up, away from Alex, before he did something they’d both regret. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on Alex’s face after he put space between them.

“As promised. No lines crossed. Totally professional.” Cryss placed both of his hands on the wheel to stop himself from dragging Alex onto his lap.

“Very professional,” Qylar drawled from the backseat.

Cryss glanced up in the rearview and saw Qylar’s grin. He’d forgotten anyone else was in the truck but the two of them.

“Why don’t you jump out and grab Alex’s bike out of the back,” Cryss growled over his shoulder at Qylar.

“Yes, my liege,” Qylar murmured before forcing his big body out of the narrow backseat.

“Well… this is my stop,” Alex said, grabbing his stuff.

Cryss clenched his jaw, a wave of need hitting him—he sensed it was coming from Alex. Hearing thoughts were bad enough. Cryss hoped he wasn’t going to start sensing Alex’s emotions, too. He was struggling to contain himself enough already.

“Thanks for everything. Really.”

Without thinking, Cryss reached out and caressed Alex’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re very welcome.”

Alex’s gaze dipped to Cryss’s lips before he quickly jumped out of the truck. He craned his neck, watching closely as Qylar offered the bike back. As Cryss watched the human disappear inside the lobby of his apartment building with his bike over one shoulder, Qylar slid into the passenger seat. Cryss dropped his head back against the headrest, fighting the instinct to march inside and crawl into Alex’s bed.

“Cryss?”

He rolled his head to the side and glared at Qylar. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Obsessed.”

Cryss lifted his head and cracked the bones of his neck. “I’m not obsessed.”

“You completely forgot about me—or was it that you didn’t want me in the truck with him?” Qylar scoffed. “That’s it. You’re being a possessive, territorial asshole.”

“I was focused on getting him home safe. That’s all. I’d have come back for you.”

“Once you remembered I existed,” Qylar said with a grin.

“Who can forget you, the thorn in my side?”

“Thorn? I’ll remind you that your human just said that he was lucky you lost that bet. I’m waiting for your appreciation. I’ll take it in the form of whiskey, loose men, or good food.” Qylar scratched his beard. “Or a combination of all three. I’m not that picky.”

“Your whole desire was my utter humiliation. You don’t get a pat on the back because I got a lucky break in the midst of it.”

“As if I didn’t owe you one? I still have nightmares from the last time I lost.”

Cryss fought a smile. He’d made Qylar wear a tiny French maid’s costume as they’d cruised the gay bars one weekend. After years stuck on Earth, missing the freedom of home, the pranks had started as a way to channel that restlessness, but as each of them competed to top the other, it had quickly gone too far. Neither of them had been willing to put an end to it, though, and look the coward. “We’re too old for these stupid games. It’s done. It should’ve ended long ago. We’re not frat boys at some kegger anymore.”

Qylar sighed. “Fine. I’d hate to see what you would’ve done to top this one, anyway. If you’d been able to, of course.”

“I’m more than capable, but if we continue, we’re going to cross a line we can’t come back from. I don’t want us to end up hating one another.”

“You’re probably right.” Qylar eyed him. “Where to for dinner?”

Cryss tossed the truck into Drive. “I picked last time. It’s your turn.”

As Qylar rattled off choices, Cryss pulled away. He watched Alex’s door in the rearview, his chest tightening the farther he drove. Clenching his jaw, he ignored the call in his blood to return.