Skye Blue, page 21
part #6 of Firsts and Forever Series
“Fuck me, Skye.” His voice was gravel and lust. I didn’t need to be told twice.
We stumbled to our feet and ran for the adjacent bedroom, both of us lunging for the lube. Dare reached it first and squirted a little on his fingers, then spun around and leaned against the wall, yanking his jeans and briefs to mid-thigh and quickly working the lube into himself. I took the bottle and freed my cock from my jeans, then slicked myself before tossing the lube aside and grabbing his narrow waist.
I mounted him with one long push and began fucking him hard and fast as I reached around, took hold of his cock and jerked him off rapidly. Dare splayed his hands out on the wall and drove himself back to meet each thrust, impaling himself on me, his moans turning into jagged yells. After a few minutes, his cock jumped in my hand and he yelled even louder as his cum painted the wall, his body shaking. “Oh fuck,” I ground out as I pounded him.
In the next instant I was cumming inside him, clutching him to me, driving myself as deep as I could get as spurt after spurt wrenched itself from my body, filling him. My legs started to shake but still I kept going, crying out, the side of my head pressed to his. I let go of his spent cock and wrapped both arms around his chest, clinging to him as the final throes of my orgasm tore from me.
I still held on to him tightly when I’d finished, because that was the only thing keeping me upright. He turned his head toward me and gifted me with a radiant smile. “Okay, so next time I’m going with the direct approach,” he said. “I’m just going to knock on your door and say, ‘I desperately need you inside me.’ We can get food afterwards, that way it won’t get cold.”
I returned the smile. “Good idea.” After carefully easing my cock from his body, I stepped back, a bit unsteady on my feet.
Dare was just as unsteady as he pivoted around, then leaned heavily against the wall. He pushed his sneakers off, then dropped his jeans and briefs and stepped out of them. I noticed he was wearing his heavy duty knee brace, the one comprised of metal and plastic with thick straps. After he caught his breath, he said, “I’m going to clean up in the bathroom. Then I think I may need to borrow a pair of shorts.” He’d inadvertently wiped all his cum off the wall with his jeans.
“I’ll find you some.”
When we were both reassembled, I heated the pizza and appetizers in the oven and Dare and I finally had our picnic. We were both totally relaxed, leaning against each other. The conversation meandered and eventually I asked idly, “What made you want to become a dancer?”
“My Aunt Eleanor,” he said. “She’d been a ballerina in the 1960s and ran a dance studio a few blocks from my house. I grew up in a fairly redneck part of the Central Valley, the kind of place where boys just didn’t take ballet lessons, end of story. Aunt Ellie hired me to help clean up around the studio when I was nine. I’d sweep floors, take out the trash, that kind of thing. I think she suspected how bad things were at home for me, even though my father was a very calculating abuser. He never hurt me in ways that left outward signs. But still, I always thought she offered me that job just because it got me out of my house for a couple hours a day.”
Dare shifted position, leaning against the side of the couch. “I loved watching the dancers. At first, Aunt Ellie thought it was because I was developing an interest in girls. But she caught me one day in the alley behind the studio, practicing jetés over and over. I felt like she’d caught me doing something wrong, because boys weren’t supposed to like ballet. She just stared at me for a long moment. But then she took my hand and led me inside the studio and up to the barre, and told me, ‘You have to learn to walk before you can fly, Mac. We’ll start with the basics.’ After that, she began teaching me between classes. She kept it a secret and so did I. We both knew how it would go over with my father and neither of us wanted to give him any more excuses to beat on me. I practiced in secret too, every chance I got. It became my beacon of hope. I had a goal now, a plan for my future. I was going to get so good at dancing that it would be my ticket out of my father’s house, out of our small town, out of the world that had felt like a prison before I discovered dance.”
Dare sighed quietly, bending his left leg and hugging his knee to his chest. “My aunt died when I was seventeen. She’d been diagnosed with Stage Four breast cancer and knew the end was coming. Shortly before she passed, she slipped me an envelope with her life savings. It was only sixteen hundred dollars, but it was a fortune to me. She made me promise to finish high school, she said I needed that diploma because no one would take me seriously without one. She also made me promise to use the money to move to a big city, someplace with plenty of opportunities, and continue my training. I left for San Francisco the night of my high school graduation.”
I asked quietly, “If she suspected what your home life was like, why didn’t she get you out of there? I don’t understand how she could let you be abused, not when she obviously cared about you.”
Dare shrugged, his eyes on some random spot across the living room. “I used to wonder that too. I even asked her if I could come live with her once. All she said to that was, ‘You’re not mine, Mac, I can’t take you away from your parents. The best we can do is make sure there’s a future waiting for you when you turn eighteen.’ Maybe she was afraid of my father. I know my mother was. Neither of them would ever say a word to cross him, because he had such a violent temper. Maybe Aunt Ellie was afraid of what he’d do to both of us if she tried to take me away from him. Or maybe I’m just making excuses for her and maybe she just didn’t really want me.”
I slid closer to him and put my arm around his shoulders, my heart aching for him, and he curled up against me and rested his head on my chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to bring down our evening.”
“Thank you for opening up to me. It can’t be easy to talk about all of that.” I rubbed his back gently and kissed the top of his head.
“You’re so kind,” he murmured after a while. “Kinder than anyone I’ve ever met.” That made me press my eyes shut and hold him tighter. I wasn’t anything extraordinary, he was just used to people treating him badly.
We both jumped a little when someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. When I got up and looked though the brass peep hole in my door I didn’t see anyone, but swung it open anyway.
Nana was so short that she’d been below my line of sight. “Hi there, Skye,” she said cheerfully as she bustled into the apartment. “I saw that your lights were on, so I came up to tell you I found you some really primo art supplies at a factory in South San Francisco. You need to come with me to get them though, because Freddy my driver is putting his foot down and refuses to help me over the chain link fence.” She was dressed in a baggy, black, long-sleeved leotard with a dainty white collar sticking out the neck opening, along with black sneakers and a black knit cap for some reason.
“Oh. Um, thanks, Mrs. Dombruso. You really didn’t have to do that,” I told her.
“Don’t make me tell you again to call me Nana,” she said, then noticed Dare on the makeshift picnic blanket. She fished around in her giant handbag and stuck her glasses on her face, then smiled delightedly. “Hey, I know you. You’re that hot, sexy disco dancer from the club where Skye works. Are you two an item?”
Dare got to his feet and said, “Yes ma’am,” before holding his hand out to her. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Dare Evans.”
She looked positively smitten as she shook his hand. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest couple,” she said. “If you get married, you have to let me plan the wedding. I’m real good at it. I’ve already done two gay homosexual weddings and am trying to arrange two more, even though my grandson Vincent and his fiancé refuse to let me go all out. That reminds me, did you talk to Trevor yet, Skye? You’re supposed to be convincing him that he really wants a big, fancy wedding.”
“Not yet, Nana. Sorry.”
“Oh. Well, you can talk to him when we get downstairs.”
“Wait, you mean Trevor’s with you?”
She nodded. “I picked them up first, their apartment was on the way. Now get your shoes on, boys, time’s awasting!” With that, she spun on her heel and hurried out of the apartment.
I chuckled at that, then turned to Dare and said, “I don’t suppose you feel like going dumpster diving.”
“Oh, there’s no way I’m missing this,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
We joined Nana downstairs and climbed in her limo, where Trevor and Vincent were curled up in the back seat. Trevor looked tired, his eyelids at half-mast, his head on his fiancé’s broad chest. Vincent was a big guy, at least six-foot-four and solid muscle. His arms around Trevor’s thin frame reminded me of armor. At a glance, it was clear that Vincent was Trevor’s protector, but I knew the opposite was true as well. My friend, despite his fragile outward appearance, was a lionheart, one who’d defend the people he loved at all costs. I found them both incredibly inspiring.
“Hi guys,” I said. “Nice to see you.” Nana had probably twisted their arms to get them to participate, but they really were good sports. “Trevor Dean, Vincent Dombruso, this is Dare Evans,” I said as we settled into the seat across from them.
“Nice to meet you,” Trevor said. He looked at Dare closely, then at me, and gave me a big smile. He’d obviously just filled in all the blanks about the two of us and it seemed he approved.
“Likewise,” Dare told him, picking up my hand.
As Nana settled in beside us, I said, “Trevor, Nana wants me to convince you to have a big wedding so she can plan it.”
“We talked about this, Nana,” Vincent said, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses. “We just want a small ceremony, nothing elaborate.”
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “You don’t know what you want.”
“Sure we do.”
“You’re my grandson,” she told him. “You have to do as I say.”
“No I don’t,” he countered.
“You’re so stubborn! Skye and Dare are going to let me plan their wedding, aren’t you?” She turned to me, her eyes huge behind her round glasses.
“We just started going out, ma’am,” Dare explained to her.
Nana sighed in exasperation. “I’m not saying I’m going to plan it next week. Just when you two are ready.”
I redirected the conversation back onto Trevor by saying, “Nana does throw legendary weddings. I’ll bet all you two would have to do would just be to show up, she’d handle the rest. Am I right, Nana?”
“That’s exactly right!” she exclaimed, then went off on a huge spiel about all the different themes she’d been considering. Trevor grinned and shook his head at me.
It took her several minutes to run out of steam. She then changed the subject so abruptly that all of us were caught off guard. “What happened to your knee?” she asked Dare, pointing at his big brace.
“Oh. I...um....” he fidgeted nervously.
Nana pulled her glasses off. “Someone did that to you,” she guessed, her voice suddenly grave. “It wasn’t just a random injury.”
He looked at her with surprise. “How did you know?”
“You have that look,” she said. “My sister Stefana had the same one. This was fifty years ago, mind you, but I’ve never forgotten it. She tried to cover for her shit of a husband because she was too embarrassed to admit what he was doing to her. It was almost two years before she finally told us what was going on. Who was it, your last boyfriend?”
“Nana, I don’t think he wants to talk about this,” I said.
“No, it’s okay,” Dare said quietly. “I really don’t know why I’m embarrassed to talk about this. It’s as if I’m placing the blame on myself, instead of putting it where it belongs. The truth is, I was in an abusive relationship that ended seven months ago. He pushed me down a flight of stairs, that’s how I got injured. I’ve been working with a counselor to get past what happened to me and she’s helping a lot. Skye’s helping, too. More than he knows.”
“Where’s your ex-boyfriend? I’ll cut his balls off! Just let me at that fucker!” Nana’s little hands were balled up into white-knuckled fists.
Dare grinned at that. “Thanks for the offer, but castration isn’t the answer. All I want to do is get my dog back and then never think about Collin Callwell ever again.”
“Collin Callwell the actor?” Trevor asked, and Dare nodded.
“I didn’t know that was your ex,” I murmured. Callwell had been the star of a short-lived hokey cop show set in San Francisco about eight or nine years ago. As far as I knew, he’d never done much before or after, but that had been enough to cement his status as a local celebrity.
“What’s this about a dog?” Nana wanted to know, and Dare explained the situation to her. After she processed that, she asked, “What’s going on with your knee? Why hasn’t it healed if it’s been seven months?”
“I need surgery. I didn’t have insurance when I got injured and can’t get it now with a pre-existing condition, so I’ve been saving up,” he said.
“Why isn’t that Callwell fucker paying for the surgery?” Nana wanted to know.
Dare chuckled humorlessly. “Not likely. Offering to pay for my surgery would be like admitting he’d done something wrong. All he did after he hurt me was make excuses, saying I slipped, I wasn’t really pushed – as if I don’t know the truth about what happened.”
“Fucker,” Nana murmured again, rage barely contained in her tiny frame.
“We can help you with the dog,” Vincent said, his voice as quiet and level as ever, even though his dark eyes showed he was as affected by this as Nana was. “Where does your ex live?”
“In the Bancroft Building in Pacific Heights,” Dare said. “It’d be next to impossible to get the dog out of there.”
“Why?” Vincent asked.
“Almost all the residents are celebrities, so security’s rock solid,” Dare explained. “The Bancroft prides itself on providing an environment where they don’t have to worry about paparazzi, obsessed fans, or really, any intrusion from the outside world.”
“But the dog must get taken on walks,” Vincent said. “That’d be the time to get him, when he’s out of the building.”
“I thought about that,” Dare told him, “but the dog walker is a really sweet college kid employed by a professional service. She’d get fired in an instant if Benny got taken on her watch and that just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Freddy,” Nana yelled to her driver, “change of plans! Turn the car around, we’re going to Pacific Heights.”
“Wait! Nana, we can’t just go barging in there, we’ll all get arrested for trespassing,” I told her as the limo made a right turn.
“We’re not barging in, we’re just going to case the joint,” she told me.
“You don’t even know me,” Dare said. “Why would you want to get involved?”
“Because you’re with Skye, and Skye’s family, so that makes you family,” Nana told him matter-of-factly. “This is what family does. We help each other.”
He smiled shyly at that, looking down at his hands. “That’s new,” he said, and I slipped my arm around him and gave him a hug.
When we reached Pacific Heights, Nana had her driver circle the block a couple times. “Which one’s his apartment?” she asked as we drove past the Bancroft.
“Top floor, corner unit in the back on the right side of the building,” he told her. “Um...I hope this isn’t a rude question, but Skye mentioned your family has a mafia connection. Does that mean you’ve had a lot of experience with this kind of thing? Breaking and entering, I mean?”
“Nah,” Nana said. “My family’s mostly out of the business now and we were never all that hands-on in the first place. You needed someone to fix the books? That we could do. Well, not we. They never let me have any fun. I ran a restaurant, it was perfectly legit. I’ll bet though that I can B and E with the best of ‘em. I was all set to bust into this factory tonight and get Skye some great art supplies. Now we’re just shifting our focus a bit, but I’m still ready!” She pulled down the brim of her knit cap, covering her face with a ski mask. Her grandson stifled a sigh and his fiancé patted his chest soothingly.
“That’s going to attract attention, Nana,” Trevor said diplomatically. “We should try to blend in.”
“Good point.” She pulled off the ski mask and stuffed it under the seat, then demurely fluffed her hair. The leotard suddenly made sense to me. She’d dressed like a cat burglar to go dumpster diving.
The limo pulled to the curb across the street and we all peered up at the building. The Bancroft was a sixties-era condo development that had been given a modern facelift a few years back by a well-known architect, making it one of the swankier addresses in the city. It was ten stories of grey stone and steel accents with glass walls showcasing a stylish ground-floor lobby. A squat apartment building sat to its left and a construction site with a big crane and the framework of a high-rise filled the lot to its right.
“Can’t we just walk in the front door and pretend we’re delivering a pizza or something?” Nana asked after a few moments.
“Deliveries are collected in the lobby and brought upstairs by security. No one’s allowed in without permission from the residents,” Dare said.
“Okay. So we just need a diversion,” Nana said. “It’s that simple. Somebody distracts the security guards and the rest of us sneak upstairs, grab the dog, shoot Callwell in the nuts and make a break for it.”
“Nobody’s shooting anybody, Nana,” Vincent told her. “You’re not going to jail over this.”
“How about kicking him in the nuts? They can’t arrest me for that.”
Vincent told her, “Sure they can!”
