Embracing His Syn, page 3
“You want another, buddy?” Furi smirked.
“Name’s Syn.”
The deep sultry voice made its way through Furi’s stomach and down to his groin. Syn’s entire persona screamed ‘I’m masculine’. His broad shoulders and firm chest were visible through his thin gray v-neck shirt. Although Furi couldn’t see them from behind the bar, he was sure the man’s thighs were muscular and strong enough to crack walnuts. Syn dragged one strong hand through his dark, medium-length hair, making it spike and fall in different directions. That gesture made Furi notice there was a mean-looking six-inch serpent tattooed on Syn’s forearm. Hmm. Fitting, he’s definitely poison. A predator that could strike and kill when you least expected it. Furi leaned a little closer, but didn’t dare invade too much. “Yeah, you told me your name already, but I asked if you wanted another drink?” Now Furi ran his hand through his hair, and watched Syn follow the movement with those sexy midnight eyes.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Furi winked and clicked his teeth. “Well, I’m outta here.”
Furi heard Syn grunt his goodbye as he turned to pull his old leather coat from underneath the bar. He went to retrieve his tips from the jar next to the register and whispered a couple words to Candy, the closing bartender. He kissed her at the bottom of her jaw, just lingering a little, putting on a show for Syn.
“Bye, Furi,” she squirmed and yelped playfully at the touch of stubble on her smooth skin.
Throwing his jacket on, his back to Syn, he made sure to flip his long tresses out so they could fall over the dark material. He swore he could feel those deep, charcoal eyes tracking him through the bar, but he refused to look back.
Goodbye Syn.
That man at the end of the bar; that was the kind of man that lured you to his bed at night and fucked you senseless, but then beat the shit out of you the next morning, because in the harsh light of day, he wasn’t gay. Furi knew that type of man all too well. As he walked the half-block to the bus stop, his blood cooled at the horrific memories of the last year as he lit a Marlboro and waited for the next bus. He didn’t need to dredge up old horror stories, he had to get his mind right ... he had an early shoot in the morning.
‘Stranger Danger’
Syn paid his tab for the one beer and left the pub. Somehow making love in an elevator didn’t appeal to him anymore. If he was being honest, women in general rarely did. He’d always felt they were more of a distraction than anything and he’d had very little time for distractions while focusing on his career. Syn looked up and down the street, about to cross to his building when a familiar figure caught his eye just a half-block up.
Furious. That’s what the man in the pub had called him. Interesting name
Syn detoured and headed in that direction. His body completely ignoring what his brain was screaming. He just looks like him … this is not the same. Syn walked slowly, Furious wasn’t going anywhere since he appeared to be waiting for the bus. He watched a billow of smoke emerge from full, pink lips. Smoking. It was a filthy habit, but somehow, Furious made it look kind of hot. Syn was just a few feet away and saw that Furious had ear buds in, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, head hanging down and all that hair falling over his beautiful face.
Beautiful face. Syn watched the man remove the cigarette from his lips.
“Uh oh. Stranger danger.”
Syn looked behind him but no one was there.
“I mean you. You just gonna stand there and stare, man?” Furious raised his head and turned slowly, pinning Syn with a hot glance.
“Name’s –”
“Yeah. I know your name, you told me already.” Furious cut him off. “Your cologne will give you away every time.”
Syn stepped a little closer. “Does it smell that bad?”
“Nope. Smells that good,” he said on an exhale of smoke.
Syn unintentionally let a small smile creep up on him. Now that he had approached Furi, he was at a complete loss as to what to say or do. He had absolutely no idea why he was approaching this man … any man. Furious’ eyes were as dark as night, his eyelashes dark and long, just brushing his cheek when he looked down. Syn looked his fill, while Furious watched him curiously.
“I like your ink,” Syn blurted out, cringing a bit when it came out a little louder than he planned. “The stars are pretty cool.”
Furious took a deep inhale of his cigarette, blew the smoke out through his nose and flicked the butt into the street. He rose up off the back of the bench standing to his full height, perhaps six-one. “You know what people assume about a person when they have star tattoos, don’t you?” Furious held his eye contact.
“I’ve heard some things. Not one to believe everything I hear though.”
“Is that right?”
Syn scrunched his eyebrows not knowing where Furious was going with this – hell, where he was going with this.
“You waiting on the bus?”
“You got it, genius. How’d you ever guess that?”
“You’re a real smart ass … and the name’s Syn. I thought I’d keep you company while you wait … maybe even offer you a ride.” Syn’s face was tight as he spoke. Why the hell did everyone have to be so fucking sarcastic all the time?
“Oh really.” Furious tucked his ear buds inside his jacket and ran his hand through his hair. “Why the hell would you offer me a ride?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You obviously need one. I’m just trying to be friendly.” Syn stepped closer and he heard a slight catch in Furious' breath.
“I’m good, man. I got a ride.”
Syn turned when he heard the diesel engine of the MARTA bus pulling over to stop.
“I could drop you off, it’s no big deal.” Syn shrugged as if it really didn’t matter. Oh, but it did.
Why the hell am I trying so hard?
“I’m good. Besides, I don’t ride with strangers.”
The bus's air brakes were loud as it came to a stop and the automatic doors opened.
“Say it,” Syn snapped suddenly.
Furious turned to look at him from the stairs of the bus. “Say what?”
“My name, damnit.”
“Why?” Furious almost whispered.
“Because, I want to hear it from your mouth.” Syn’s voice had gone gravelly. He was being honest. He did want to hear it. Now. Later. And ten octaves higher ricocheting off his bedroom walls. Hell.
“No,” Furious replied, turned, and got on the bus.
For some reason, Syn watched as his new, enigmatic friend paid his fare and settled himself in the back on the far side of the bus. Furious never looked in his direction, but Syn kept hoping he would as the driver pulled the large vehicle back into traffic.
Furi walked the half-block to his small basement apartment in Emory Point. He’d been there for nine months since he’d made his escape from his abusive husband. He’d changed his last name and made it as far as he could on the seven hundred dollars he’d managed to secret away. His landlord was an old lady with seven grown kids and about fifteen grandchildren who she visited often, which was extremely beneficial to Furi. He had access to, but rarely ventured to any other parts of the house.
He turned on the small entryway lamp and peeled off clothes on his way to the bathroom. He did the same thing every night when he came in from the bar. He had to rid himself of the smell as quickly as possible. Smelling like hot wings and vodka never appealed to him. Furi half checked his messages and half hobbled into the small room that had the tiniest shower ever and turned on the hot water. He had to let it run for a few minutes before it even considered warming up.
He had another message from Greg – the film company’s publicist. Fuckin’ great. Furi opened the email and only managed to read a few words before his eyes started to roll in annoyance.
‘Furi I’ve gotten with Mack about what I mentioned to you last week and we are prepared to up your offer to $1000. How about that? AND 25cents per download! How awesome is that, hot stuff? It’s an offer you don’t want to refuse. You have fans who adore your sexy ass. You don’t want to lose your audience, do you? They need more of you. Let me know ASAP, and we’ll cancel your shoot tomorrow and start on the new scene instead. We’ll even let you choose your partner. Mmmm ... wouldn’t Sasha Pain be delicious? Oh and PS, there's a $500 advance if you say yes now!!’ G
Furi re-read the email and felt his stomach start to do some weird flippy shit when he thought about accepting Mack’s offer. Furi was already risking being found by his ex by doing the solo jerk sessions on Mack’s small-time porn site.
When Mack came into his uncle’s bar almost six months ago, he’d gushed half the damn night about how sexy Furi was and how he could make him into a movie star. Furi quickly decided it was worth exploring and went to Mack’s studio. He’d been floored when he realized it was a porn company and worse, felt like an idiot for not asking what type of movies Mack produced.
Each time Furi tried to bow out gracefully, Mack offered up more money. Although Furi needed to stay hidden from Patrick, he desperately needed money. His uncle wanted him the hell off his couch after only a few months.
There was just one big fucking problem with Mack’s porn site. It was hetero porn only, and Furi was so gay he wouldn’t know how to get a woman off if someone gave him a diagram.
So after practically chasing Furi out into the parking lot, Mack had convinced him to do one solo jerk off session for five hundred dollars. Furi figured he’d do only one session and that would get him off his uncle’s couch. That money would be enough to rent him a small room, but of course; one film turned to two, then three ... and it just kept going. Furi had done over twenty solo performances, but now Mack was aggressively trying to convince Furi to do more. Furi refused a blowjob on film. Hell he doubted he could stay hard – he’d refused mutual masturbation scenes and he damn sure wasn’t doing penetration. Now they were offering him a thousand dollars, plus twenty-five cents per download. Fuck. It probably would do pretty well, but the thought of being found by Patrick or his psycho brother made Furi physically ill. Furi calmed his racing heart by convincing himself that there was no way those two fuckers would ever pay to go on a het site, since both his husband and his brother were gay.
Furi closed the email without replying and stepped under the lukewarm water. He released a small sigh, wishing for more water pressure. The small trickles of water that came out of the thirty-year old showerhead were barely strong enough to rinse the conditioner out of his hair. He shook his head at how many small things he had taken for granted when he was married and living in his comfortable condo in Charlotte. When Patrick and his brother were away on business he was happy, it was when Patrick came home that shit turned disastrous.
Goosebumps popped up all over Furi’s taut body. Not because the water was already getting cold, but because once again those memories were invading his head ... no matter what, he couldn’t stop them.
‘Ghosts of Marriage Past’
One year ago.
“Darlin, I’m home. Are you here?”
“I’m coming,” Furi yelled from the second floor. He quickly closed up the Universal Technical School pamphlet he was reading and gathered the other materials, making his way down the metal spiral staircase.
Furi found Patrick in the kitchen loosening his tie. Damn the man could wear a suit. The black designer suit had fine lavender pinstripes that Patrick accented perfectly with a light purple tie. Furi would no doubt be responsible for getting the suits his husband traveled with to the cleaners and returned to his closet. He didn’t know how he’d become his husband's personal assistant, but it had happened, and to avoid argument, Furi didn’t refuse Patrick's requests.
“Is that the kind of welcome you give your husband when he returns home after a week away?” Patrick set his water bottle down on the brown marble countertop and looked at Furi expectantly. “You just gonna stand there looking at me from the other side of the room?”
Patrick’s eyes could pin you in place with one stern look. Furi had thought this extremely sexy in the beginning, but as time wore on, the glare became more feral than attractive. Patrick's hair was jet black, slicked and combed straight back, reminding Furi of Andy Garcia without that annoying widow’s peak. “How was your flight?” Furi asked, moving into Patrick’s muscular arms.
“Long. Anything happening here?”
“Well actually, yes.”
“What’s this?”
Before Furi could tell Patrick what was new, he’d picked up the enrollment package from the auto mechanic school and was frowning while quickly scanning the contents.
“What the fuck is this, Furious?”
“I was getting to the-–”
“If it isn’t mister lazy bones.”
Fucking great. Patrick’s younger brother and business partner, Brenden, came around the corner, fastening his belt buckle. Furi hadn't heard him in the bathroom when he came downstairs. If he had, he may have stayed upstairs.
“I’m not lazy. Did you see the yard?” Asswipe. Not only had Furi completely turned over the entire flower bed, but he’d mowed the grass and gotten his fall flowers in the ground, not to mention the three hours he’d put in at the auto repair shop. Patrick would never know about that last part though. Furi loved gardening ... it was peaceful. He'd started doing it to be out of the house when Patrick was home, but it quickly became an enjoyable hobby. He loved anything he could do outdoors; however, his passion was automotive mechanics. There wasn’t a vehicle with wheels and an engine that he couldn’t fix.
“Darlin, I asked you a question.” Patrick’s hard gray eyes glared at him, but his voice was cool and calm. Furi feared that tone more than his yell.
Furi turned from his annoying brother-in-law and faced his husband, seeing immediately that Patrick didn’t like what he saw in the paperwork.
“I mentioned to you before you left last week that I wanted to continue with my degree in automotive mechanics. It’s still my dream to own my own shop.” Furi lowered his voice and tried to speak only to his husband, since his bastard brother-in-law was still smirking at him. “You know I promised my father I’d do that ... have my own shop one day. Just like him.”
Patrick tossed the pamphlet on the table like it had shit on it. “How would you pay for something like that, huh? Those schools cost a fortune.”
Furi ran his hand nervously over the tattoo of his father’s Harley on his forearm and cleared his throat. “I was hoping you’d lend me the money and then when I start working, I’d pay you back … every dollar,” he added for good measure. No one knew, especially his husband, that Furi’s father had named him beneficiary of a life insurance policy, along with a will telling him to ‘live his dream’. Furi had eighty-thousand dollars safely hidden away in an account in his best friend’s name. However, after doing a million different calculations, the money wasn’t enough for his schooling and start-up money to open a shop.
“Yeah that’s not gonna happen, slacker,” Brenden sneered.
“Shut the fuck up and mind your own business, Bren.” Before Furi could put up any kind of guard, Brenden had his hands around his throat and shoved him until his back slammed into the stainless steel refrigerator.
“You think you can talk to me that way, you little shit?” Brenden snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. His hands twisting and burning the skin around Furi’s neck.
“Get off me,” Furi gasped, trying unsuccessfully to pry the thick fingers off. His husband and brother-in-law had both been linebackers in college. Neither minded using their brawn and strength on him, and often.
Brenden brought his knee up fast, kneeing him so hard in the groin Furi thought death would be better than the pain. Brenden stepped back and let Furi drop to the hard granite floor, slapping him hard in the back of the head before strolling off as if he owned the world. Furi couldn’t hear what the hell his husband was saying because his ears were ringing and his eyes were so filled with tears he thought best to just keep them shut.
“Patrick,” Furi groaned, clutching at his balls, knowing nothing would stop the throbbing.
“Don’t talk like a big boy if you don’t have the balls to back it up, darlin,” his husband said nonchalantly.
What the fuck?
“He has no right to put his damn hands on me, Pat. What the hell? He also has no say in our marriage.” Furi’s voice was strained as he made his way up off the floor with no assistance from his husband.
“Blood’s thicker than water, twerp.” Brenden shrugged and pushed Furi out the way so he could get a beer from the fridge.
“So I’m water, Pat?” Furi stared at his husband of two years and realized at that moment he didn’t stand a chance. It was bad enough when Patrick began taking jabs at him a year ago, each time swearing it’d be the last. But now his brother was having a go at him too. Well fuck. He’d die before he spent the rest of his life like this. Furi was twenty-eight years old. He had a lot of years ahead of him. If he got out in time.
Furi opened his eyes, trying to ward off the bad memories and stepped out of the shower, twisting the towel tight around his narrow waist. What the fuck am I going to do? Furi had to admit that the money sounded great. He could really use that cash to pay for his books and tools for the semester. But damnit. “I can’t do a chick,” he whispered, shaking his head sadly. He’d tell them tomorrow that his answer is still no.
Furious woke up a few minutes early to shave his pubic hair. He was told ladies like a full, clear view of the package. All it did for him was make him itchy as fuck two days later. People probably thought he had crabs with the way he scratched sometimes. He dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt covered with black skulls. What he wore really didn’t matter, since he was only going to take it off.
Furi spent an extra five minutes to ensure his school uniform and recent project were safely inside his backpack with the disk for his presentation.
