Whatever the Cost by Lynn Kelling

try that, anything to get a louder moan, a sharper cry.
    He tells himself it’s as much of a far-fetched fantasy as Tucker’s request for a cowboy, that it’s make-believe, a play where the only audience is the people in the room. It’s secret, private. Anything can happen with no consequences, because as soon as the play is over, and the night is through, they stop being their characters and go back to being the boring, normal, unexciting people they are.
    The saddest thing is that a part of him truly believes that.
    Nervousness and shyness are not hard for Liam to muster. He’s got both of them in spades as he gets ready, going into the bathroom, washing his cock and balls, douching, scrubbing every inch of his skin and doing absolutely everything he can to not remember that he’s doing it all for Jacen.
    When Liam grabs one of his small, tapered butt plugs, lubing it up, pressing it into himself with one leg braced on the edge on his bathtub, coaxing the muscle loose, his stomach ties up in knots. He works it in and out, tugging and pressing until the toy moves easily, rotating it around inside for a greater stretch as dull memories of what Jacen looked like naked flash in his mind. Remembering the size of Jacen’s cock, Liam tries to adjust the amount of prep accordingly to be ready for that. The plug gets withdrawn and Liam squirts more lube all over his fingers, inserting three of them into himself, smearing it around his inner walls, wondering if someone else’s fingers will be in there instead in a little over an hour.
    Since he’s mentally stoking the fires of his own paranoia for the character’s sake, he manages to make himself so worked up that he has to sit by the toilet bowl for a good fifteen minutes, hugging the porcelain and praying that his lunch doesn’t come chasing up his gullet like it wants to.
    Without a drop of product in his hair or bronzer on his skin, he slips on a pair of crisp, white briefs, some snug-fitting khakis and a grass green, short-sleeved polo shirt. Jacen has never seen Liam naked. As far as Liam knows, Jacen has never even seen him without a shirt on, since Liam likes to keep covered when he’s not on the job. This causes Liam to take an extra few seconds in front of the mirror, obsessing over each little detail. The body jewelry is a toss-up. He decides to leave it in. Jacen doesn’t know about the piercings either.
    At eight-fifteen, he’s in the driver’s seat in the driveway when bile rises in his throat. Forcing it back down, without time to go back inside and clean up, brush his teeth, use mouthwash, the whole deal, he tempers his panic and wills himself a little calmer. The drive is a short one, and thankfully he doesn’t run into any traffic. Grabbing some breath spray, he squirts two pumps onto his tongue and sets the gearshift in park in the long, winding driveway that curves in front of a grand estate.
    A push of the bell at the main entrance brings a butler in a nondescript grey suit.
    “William. For Claudia. She’s expecting me,” he says curtly, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
    “Of course,” is the polite reply. The servant steps back, opening the door widely. “Please, right this way.”
    With a deep breath, terrified, Liam lives the fantasy and steps inside.

Chapter 8
The Unthinkable
     
    They walk through a wing of the house, up a set of curving stairs to the second floor, down another wide hall to a door that is shut tight. Liam’s heart hammers in his chest. Taking a deep, shaky breath when he feels his skin get too hot, then too cold, then too tight, and sweat threatens to break out over his body, he stands back as the butler knocks softly and calls, “Your second guest is here, Ma’am.”
    “Show him in, Teddy. Thank you,” a pleasant, lilting female voice answers from beyond the closed door. She giggles and then Liam catches the sound of a deep, male voice murmuring. Jacen. The bones in Liam’s legs nearly turn to