Archive of Our Own ^beta

Diana Ross fills the room as Imogen’s face appears on Bodhi’s lock screen. 

I’m coming out! I want the world to know 

Got to let it show

I’m coming!

Bodhi smiles to himself as he hits the green accept call button and says, “Hey, Im.”

He’s in his dressing room. Jewelry and makeup cover the vanity he sits at. There’s a small red velour couch to the left of his closet and a bathroom door to the right. Inside the closet are racks of gowns, leotards, feathers, and hats. He has a wig stand and a minifridge next to the vanity. 

The bright lights around the mirror illuminate Bodhi’s face. Contouring raises his cheekbones and slims his nose. He brushes a shimmery purple shadow over his lids and then sits back, admiring his work. A year ago, before he’d left home, he’d never imagined his face could look so beautiful, so feminine.  

“Bodhi!” Imogen practically screams. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Why not?” He tries not to let his brow furrow. He runs his thumb across his forehead, smoothing the lines. 

“Xaden says things have been weird since your parents came back from LA two months ago.” Bodhi cringes. He didn’t think the interrogation would come so soon. “I thought maybe you’d block my number too.”

“You know I’d never do that to you, Im.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d block Xaden either,” she retorts.

Bodhi’s eyes dart to the crumpled letter in the wastebasket—Xaden’s latest attempt to contact him. Imogen has no right inserting herself into their family drama. In trying to keep the peace between him and his parents, Xaden had chosen his side—and it wasn’t Bodhi’s.

“Listen, if you just called to be Xaden’s mouthpiece—”

“I didn’t.” She breathes heavily on the other end of the line and Bodhi instantly knows what this is about. He’s gotten so many calls from her just like this one since he came to LA. 

Knowing that Imogen will talk when she’s ready, Bodhi sets the phone down on the vanity and puts it on speaker, then picks up his pencil and begins to fill in his brows, shaping and defining them so they’ll pop on the stage. He feels a familiar tingle in his stomach. A feeling that will only grow as he transforms and gets closer and closer to show time. He can’t wait to dance tonight.

“Garrick and I are fighting again.”

Ahh, there it is.

“What about this time?” He tries to keep his voice neutral, but it’s hard when it’s the same thing, week after week. 

“The usual,” Imogen says. “I asked him if he wanted to visit you.”

Bodhi’s heart sinks. After his parents' disastrous visit, Bodhi never wants anyone from Aretia to come here ever again. Not even Im and Garrick. California is his safe space. He wouldn’t be able to stand the looks on their faces if they found out he was a drag queen. It had been hard enough for his friends in Aretia to accept the men. But the club? 

He shakes his head even though she can’t see him. 

“I didn’t invite you, Im.” He hopes she doesn’t take it the wrong way but he really can’t afford to take nights off from the club if she actually came. And he would have to cancel his shows if she did. He doesn’t know how she’d react and he won’t risk another disaster.

“I know, but—” She cuts herself off and Bodhi can picture her steadying herself. One hand pinching the bridge of her nose, the other on her hip. Bitterness edges her voice. “He misses you. I miss you. And it doesn’t matter anyway; he won’t leave Aretia for anything. When I married him, I didn’t know I was signing up for this.”

He pities her, even though she’d hate him for it. There has to be a way for him to help.

Bodhi bites down on his lip, knowing that Imogen feels every bit as trapped in Aretia as he had. The two of them had always been meant for something more. They’d wanted to go, to see the world, but then Imogen found Garrick and fell in love. She’d given everything up for her husband. Something in Bodhi cracks. 

“You could leave, you know.” Bodhi swallows. He can scarcely believe he’s offering. He’s afraid she’ll say yes. Afraid she’ll say no. “It’s not too late. My apartment is tiny, but we’ve shared a bed before and—”

“Bodhi.” Imogen sounds like she’s nearly in tears now. “It is too late. I’m…” He hears her swallow. Her breath shakes. “I’m pregnant.”

Bodhi drops his eyebrow pencil.

“Fuck.” He doesn’t know what to say. Something in her tone makes him think that ‘congratulations’ isn’t right. “How did Garrick take it?”

Imogen huffs out a breath and says, “I haven’t told him yet, but he’ll be thrilled. We’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Then why do you sound like this isn’t what you want?”

“I—” She cuts herself off again. Bodhi knows this is hard for her. Her depression has gotten worse since he left and he can’t imagine motherhood is going to help, or that a baby will fix her marriage. Logically, he knows it's not his fault that she’s in this position, but he feels guilty. “The little guy is going to need his Uncle Bodhi.”

Bodhi’s eyes squeeze shut. She knows right where to hit him for maximum damage. “It’s a boy?”

The thought of Im’s little boy growing up in Aretia the way Bodhi had. What if he was different? Would he have anyone to look up to? To show him that it’s okay to be himself? 

“I—” Imogen stumbles over her words. “It’s too early to tell scientifically, but I can feel it.”

Bodhi snorts and covers it with a cough. He feels bad and hopes Imogen didn’t catch it. “Garrick will like that.”

“You know, Bodhi,” Imogen says, “you could come home. We all want you back. Garrick changed when you left. He’s never home and when he is, he drinks too much. Xaden buries himself in his work. Masen and Eya left right after you did, and Liam—”

The name clangs between them, ripping open a wound Bodhi had thought long since healed.

“He’s okay with it, you know, you being gay and having feelings for him. He doesn’t hold it against you at all,” Imogen says with so much sincerity that Bodhi can almost imagine it’s true. “Actually, he kinda fell apart after you left.”

Bodhi’s lip curls and he can’t keep the twang out of his voice. “Liam isn’t the reason I left.” And for the first time in a long time, Bodhi believes it’s true. He left to find his authentic self, and he has—here at the Pink Pony Club. 

She scoffs like she doesn’t believe him. None of them do, but it’s okay. He’s not going to hide who he is or cower in the shadows any longer.

He reaches for his lashes and they sit in silence as he glues them to his lids. He’s gotten good at it; it doesn’t take nearly as much concentration as it used to. The mascara wand is to his left and he grabs it, applying enough that his real lashes blend seamlessly with his falsies. 

“Are you still there?” she asks.

“Im,” Bodhi sighs, his Aretian accent tucked away once again, “I know you wanted me to stay.”

“Then come home,” Imogen whines through his speakerphone. 

“You know why I can’t.” He smiles sadly to himself. They’ve had this argument more times than he can count. “I don’t fit in Aretia. I belong here, in LA.”

She hates this answer and she scoffs. It hurts Bodhi when she reacts this way but he buries it deep. She doesn’t know this place, doesn't see how it brings him to life. 

“Tell me, what does California have that Aretia doesn’t?”

He sighs and swirls his brush in highlighter powder and sweeps it across his cheekbone. His skin sparkles and it makes him smile so hard it hurts. “There's a special place where boys and girls can all be queens every single day,” he whispers, his voice earnest, accent unhidden.

Silence echoes between them. Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it clearly hadn’t been that. Bodhi glances at the time. He has fifteen minutes before his set and he still needs to pick out his lipstick, use the bathroom, get dressed, and put on his wig. He hates to cut Imogen off when he knows she has more to say.

“Im, can I call you back?” Bodhi says at the same time that she blurts out, “I slept with Ciaran.”

Fuck. Bodhi’s stomach bottoms out as the implication sinks in. “Im. The baby—?”

“I just…I don’t know if…the timing…It could be…” Bodhi can hear her shutting down. “We can talk later if you have to go.”

“I’m such an asshole, Im.” His heart hammers in his chest. He has twelve minutes and there’s no time to spare for this conversation no matter how badly he wants to drop everything for her. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll call you in the morning.”

“It’s fine, Bodhi.” Her voice rings hollow. “I just thought that since Garrick is out with Liam tonight…you’re always busy when I call these days.”

“I work nights.” Bodhi pulls his lipstick box toward himself and sorts through the tubes. Ignoring the reds, pinks, and browns, Bodhi settles on a light purple. The color compliments his skin tone and, more importantly, pops under the stage lights. 

He removes the lid and opens his lips to line them with color. He smacks them together and then sits back, admiring himself in the mirror.

Not bad for a boy from Aretia. Not bad at all.

A smile breaks out across his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes. His stomach flutters in pre-performance excitement. He’s so fucking happy because when he’s onstage, real life fades away.

“Since when do accountants work nights?” Imogen laughs, some of her old vibrancy shining through her words.

“Right,” Bodhi stiffens, crashing down to earth at Imogen’s question. He only works at the club three nights a week. It’s his job in accounting that keeps the lights on and the fridge stocked. Inputs, outputs, credits, and debits. Every day is the same. So many monotonous calculations and numbers. Just thinking about the balance sheet and income statement makes him want to toss his laptop out the window. He fucking hates it. He wants to quit but he doesn’t know what else he can do, and for now, he needs the money. 

He also has no idea how to explain any of that to Imogen, so for now, he deflects. “Well, goodnight, Im.”

“Goodnight, Bodhi. Don’t forget to call me tomorrow.” There's a threat to her voice, but Bodhi knows she’s all bark and no bite.

Bodhi hangs up the phone and fights to keep his expression neutral. He wants to cry over Imogen’s situation but he doesn’t have time to redo his makeup if it runs. It’s always so hard talking to her, knowing how unhappy she is. He should have pushed harder for her to come with him last year, even if a small, selfish part of him is grateful for his fresh start without her.

He sighs and gets up from his chair heading for the washroom. When he’s done, he goes to his closet and flips through his dresses until he finds the one he’s looking for.

It's a tight gold number, head-to-toe sequins, with a plunging neckline. He loves this gown because it brings out the golden flecks in his dark, onyx eyes. It’s perfect for tonight.

He’s already wearing his waist cincher, breastplate, and bra, so all he has to do is shimmy into the dress and zip it up. It used to be difficult but he’s zipped so many dresses over the last year that it comes easy now.

When the dress is on, he moves his breasts into position and then makes his way to the mirror. He examines the area around his chest and neck, but the breastplate is a near match for his skin and practically seamless. He puts on a bulky necklace anyway. The green pendant rests just above his bosom, drawing the eye to his cleavage. 

The clock shows that he has five minutes. Bodhi slips into his glittery green stilettos and then reaches for his wig. With his luscious honey-blonde curls secured, Bodhi steps back to admire himself.

He looks good, as always. He feels confident and brave and strong. His eyes linger on the winding tattoo on his left arm. A relic of his life in Aretia. They’d gotten drunk one night to celebrate Liam’s high school graduation and they’d all woken up the next morning with matching tattoos. It’s the only part of him he wishes he could hide. He makes a mental note to order some elbow-length gloves after the show.

He pushes the tattoo from his mind and takes a deep breath, eyes closed. “My name is Bodhi Durran and I am fucking beautiful.”

When he opens his eyes, there’s a radiant smile on his face. He was born for this.

***

Bodhi stands in the stage-right wing, waiting, his legs jiggling nervously. He loves performing here, but ever since his parent’s disastrous visit, the excitement turns sour in the moments right before he’s announced. It’s okay to love this, he reminds himself. It doesn’t make him an abomination or an affront to God, no matter what his father says. 

He was born this way. God doesn’t make mistakes.

The crowd breaks into applause as the performer before Bodhi exits the stage. They smile at him and give him a light tap on the ass. “Go get ‘em, Coco,” they say with a wink before disappearing to their dressing room.

The emcee takes the stage, a bubbly blonde named Quinn. She’s wearing lingerie with sparkles and fringe with a cowboy hat and boots to match the blue streak in her hair. Just like that, all the nerves fade away. 

“Wasn’t that fantastic? And look at those heels!” Quinn’s chipper voice crackles through the sound system. “You know what they say, ‘don’t criticize someone until you walk a mile in their shoes, because then you’re a mile away and have their shoes.’” She pauses to allow laughter from the audience. “Well I certainly can’t walk a mile in those and I have no criticisms, so I guess I’m shit outta luck.” More laughter.

Quinn was Bodhi’s first friend at the club. He remembers meeting her on his first day, before he had his own act, and how she immediately took him under her wing, teaching him how to dance and helping him with his makeup. She reminds him so much of how Imogen used to be and seeing her helps ease the homesickness aching in his chest. 

“Alrighty, y’all. You know her, you love her, she’s Pink Pony Club’s exclusive performer here every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday night.” Bodhi’s smile grows at Quinn’s familiar intro. “Please welcome to the stage the one and only Miss Coco Bodhacious!”

The roar of the crowd empties his mind of all thoughts but this. Miss Coco is tonight’s headliner and he knows that they’re all here to see him. 

Diana Ross’s familiar chorus drowns out the applause and the clack of Bodhi’s heels as he takes to the stage. He bends down to kiss Quinn on the cheek when he reaches her and takes the microphone from her. 

For a moment, he just beams at the crowd. The club is filled with blacklights and a sparkly disco ball hangs above him. The spotlight hits it and it starts to spin, reflecting light across the stage and the crowd. He feels their anticipation as they wait for him to start. 

There’s a tug in his gut, demanding that he pay attention to something to his left. His heart picks up as he feels the chemistry coursing through his veins. This is the moment he’s been waiting for all day, but can’t let himself look yet. He has to address the audience—the whole audience—first.

The music fades as he lifts the microphone to his lips and hears his words ring out across the club. “I hope everyone is having a good night so far.” It’s his stage voice, higher and more sensuous. He speaks slowly and works hard to keep out any trace of his Southern accent. He’s no longer Bodhi. He’s Miss Coco Bodhacious. “It’s better, I’m sure, now that I’m here with all of you.” 

Someone whoops in response and his lips twitch into a smile. 

Finally, he lets his eyes dart to the left. With the bright lights shining in his face, it’s hard to see beyond the first couple of rows, but that doesn’t matter. The pull he feels comes from the leftmost front table, same as always. Bodhi doesn’t know his name, doesn’t know anything about him, other than that he’s here every night Bodhi performs and that he watches in a way that makes Bodhi feel like he might be worth more than any boy from Aretia has a right to be. 

He meets a pair of rich, dark eyes and his stomach does a flip at the adoration in them. Usually, he’s alone, but tonight he shares his table with a tall, freckled man, a woman with dreadlocks, and another woman with cropped, jet-black hair. 

Dreadlocks giggles and nudges him as Freckles whispers something in his ear. The man ignores both his friends, wholly focused on Bodhi. It warms something in his chest. In this private moment between the two of them, the smile on Bodhi’s face isn’t his stage smile. It’s real. 

He hopes it's enough for the other man to know that tonight, he’s dancing just for him.

The music starts and Bodhi struggles to tear his gaze away. He grabs the mic as the instantly recognizable seven-note opening guitar riff blares across the stage, and says to the crowd in a low, sultry voice, “Let’s go girls.”

Excited screams fill the air and he loses himself to the energy of the crowd. He kicks a heel and tosses his head back. “C’mon.” The crow roars, nearly drowning out the sounds of the guitar and drums as they come in, and Bodhi saunters across the stage, moving his shoulders to the beat until it’s time to start lip-syncing. 

This. This is what he was born to do.

The choreographed steps come naturally to him now. Muscle memory. He winks and flirts with the crowd and they eat it up, singing along to every word of Shania’s iconic anthem. Every chance he gets, he glances left and preens under his crush’s stare.

Crush? Is that what the man is to Bodhi? He feels such a deep, soul-wrenching connection to the man but they’ve never actually spoken. The word crush is simultaneously too big and too small.

Whoa-oh-oh, go totally crazy

Jazz square.

Forget I’m a lady

Kick ball change.

Men’s shirts, short skirts, whoa-oh-oh

Pivot. Pirouette.

Really go wild and doin’ it in style!

Leap.

Bodhi loses himself in the music. Each song has its own rhythm and feel, and he melds seamlessly into his performance. His set lasts an hour. By the time Quinn comes on to announce his final ballad, he’s tired and sweaty, but alive. He never feels more alive than he does at the end of a performance. On the stage in his heels; it’s where he belongs. 

Tears sting his eyes as he starts to get emotional. At least once a week he cries on stage. It was embarrassing at first, but then the crowd loved it. It connects them in their shared queer, human experience. It’s why they love him. Why his shows are so often standing-room only. He turns to that table on the left. 

To Bodhi’s surprise, the man with the rich eyes is alone again. His friends’ abandoned drinks are scattered across the table. The man smiles at Bodhi and runs a hand through his floppy hair as a wall of emotion hits Bodhi. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then just lets himself feel what he feels. It’s okay to feel.

Bodhi approaches the mic.

“Thank you all for coming here tonight.” A single tear runs down his cheek. “A year ago today, I came to LA for the first time. I was a lonely, scared, confused queer boy from a small town that would never accept this part of me, and now look at me.” He gestures broadly to himself. “Now I’m fabulous.” Three enthusiastic whoops shout out from different parts of the audience, and everyone laughs, then a huge cheer goes up for him. Someone screams, “We love you, Miss Coco Bodhacious!”

Bodhi smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

When they quiet down again he continues, “I want to thank everyone here at the Pink Pony Club for loving me for who I am.” A twang slips out with his words. He can’t help it. It’s so hard to hide when he gets like this. “I know who I am now.” He smiles through the tears, his chest feels like it might explode as the audience cheers. “I’m a Pink Pony Girl and this is where I belong.” 

He puts the microphone back in his stand and then blows a kiss to the man with the bright eyes and the floppy hair. He’s never been so bold with him before, but tonight, it just feels right. Maybe tonight, he’ll be brave enough to go out and find him. Talk to him. Learn his name. Maybe.

He reaches center stage, and the club goes dark. No one can see Bodhi as he strikes his starting pose.

Electric piano tinkles into the club and a single spotlight shines on Bodhi. His heart hammers so loud in his chest that he wonders if the audience can hear. He’s practiced this number for months but hasn’t performed it before. Ever. Not even Quinn’s seen it.

He isn’t sure why he finally put it on the setlist tonight. It was a last-minute substitution. A whim. A nudge he can’t explain. A feeling that it had to be tonight.

He feels a familiar tingle in his limbs as he begins his final number. A feeling of rightness settles over him. He’s calm and safe and warm and everything is perfect. He dances, spinning and twirling across the stage almost as if tonight was a normal night. But it’s not. 

‘Til now, I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

Energy crackles in the air, lighting a fire between him and this man who he’s never met but somehow feels like he knows. He never breaks eye contact with him, not once during the whole routine. Tonight, this dance is only for him. Bodhi leaves his heart and soul out on that dance floor. 

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

***

Back in his dressing room, Bodhi takes off his wig and places it back on its stand. He runs a hand through his short, dark natural curls and smiles to himself. He’s practically glowing. Tonight’s show was one of his best performances to date. Especially that last song when he completely lost himself in that enchanting pair of eyes.

His phone buzzes but he ignores it, wanting to undress and clean up before facing the outside world again. 

He takes off the necklace next and then shimmies out of his dress, letting it hit the floor. He steps out, leaving it on the carpet, and sighs dreamily as he sinks into his chair in front of the mirror. His phone buzzes again. And again. 

He groans and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. It’s nearly two in the morning in Aretia. Everyone he loves should be fast asleep. What could they possibly want from him now?

Ignoring his phone, he pulls the strings on his waist cincher and takes his first deep breath in nearly two hours. The breastplate comes off next. He’s removing his eyelashes when the call comes in. He doesn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He just hits the side button to silence Diana Ross’s voice on his speaker. 

Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to deal with this tonight. After the insane amount of eye-fucking over the last six months, and the undeniable chemistry between them tonight, Bodhi is finally ready. He wants to meet the man from the leftmost table. His stomach flips and a chill runs down his spine. 

He’s not sure how to approach him. At first, he wanted to meet him as Bodhi, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind—one that sounds suspiciously like Liam—asks, What if he’s not interested in Bodhi? What if he only wants Miss Coco Bodhacious? 

It sounds like fear and doubt and it brings him back to that moment when Liam told him that they couldn’t be together anymore now that everyone knew about Bodhi’s sexuality. It’s dangerous. It’s scary. It’s not normal. 

Bodhi reaches for his wig like it's a security blanket. Are you even worth it without all the glitter and glam? What if he doesn’t recognize you without all of that? What if he thinks you’re ugly? 

And then, there’s another voice, softer, more confident, with a distinct southern twang. What if he doesn’t?

He lets his hand drop to the counter and tightens his fingers into a fist. He won’t let fear win. Not tonight. If he’s doing this, he’s doing it right.

Bodhi gets to his feet and heads to the bathroom where he washes off his face. His skin isn’t as even anymore, and his features are softer with his skin bare, but he still looks good. He runs a hand through his natural hair in an attempt to style the curls.

He pulls on his briefs and steps into a dark pair of tight jean short shorts. He wears a black t-shirt that clings to his muscled chest. In a matter of minutes, he’s transformed from colorful and feminine to dark and masculine. He feels equally comfortable in both.

He grabs his phone and heads to the door. He’s in the hallway when it buzzes again. Instinctually, he looks down. The words on the screen make his heart stop.

Five missed calls and forty unread text messages, all from Liam Mairi.

No, no, no. Not tonight. Not when he’s about to finally talk to him after six months of sultry looks and longing from afar.

Bodhi swallows and ducks back into his room, feeling despondent. He has to check the messages; he has to know.

Settling onto his couch, Bodhi opens the first message. Then the second and the third. The crease between his brow deepens with each line he reads.

Liam Mairi: bodhhiiiiiii

Liam Mairi: guess where i am

Liam Mairi: its our spot

Liam Mairi: i’m playing pool with gare and remember all the fun we used to hae here

Liam Mairi: i miss that

Liam Mairi: gare just doesnt know how to handle a stick and balls like yuo

Liam Mairi: pool of course

Liam Mairi: u no mine are only for you still

Liam Mairi: r u there

Liam Mairi: i miss u

Liam Mairi: can i call uyo

Liam Mairi: what the fuck durrran oyu didnt answer

Liam Mairi: im going to my car

Liam Mairi: dont worry im not driving

Liam Mairi: its just the last time we u no was in my car outside the bar

Liam Mairi: it helps to come here 

Liam Mairi: i can almost pretend that its ur hand

Liam Mairi: fuck bodhi

Liam Mairi: i miss this

Liam Mairi: fuck

Liam Mairi: fuck

Liam Mairi: fuck bodhi im gonna cum

Liam Mairi: i wish u were here

Liam Mairi: Soleils gonna check my phone later

Liam Mairi: how i am gonna explain this

Liam Mairi: i donut even care right now

Liam Mairi: i miss us

Liam Mairi: pls come home

Liam Mairi: im calling uoy again

Liam Mairi: pls answer the phone

Liam Mairi: bodhi answer the phone

Liam Mairi: gare is waiting for me

Liam Mairi: u have to answer this time or we cant talk

Liam Mairi: shit he came out here looking for me 

Liam Mairi: i have to go

Liam Mairi: fuck my hand is all sticky

Liam Mairi: hes going to know

Liam Mairi: found a napkin

Liam Mairi: call me later pls

Liam Mairi: i luv u bodhi

He reaches the end and anger boils in his gut. It isn’t fair. All Bodhi wants is to move on, but he can’t, when every couple of weeks Liam gets drunk and sends a string of embarrassing messages. 

What right does Liam have to miss Bodhi? Liam fucking bailed when Bodhi needed him most, too much of a coward to risk being outed himself.

He sags into the couch, phone clutched in his hand. Emotions whirl within Bodhi like a tornado. He’s sad and angry and tired. A part of him will always love Liam, but he needs to lock that part away. Liam doesn’t get to have power over Bodhi any longer.

Enough is enough. Bodhi fires back one message, deletes the voicemails without listening to them, and then blocks the number. 

Bodhi Durran: Go home Mairi. Your fiancée is waiting for you. Good luck, Babe.🖕🏾

Bodhi shoves his phone into his pocket and then heads for the bar.

After he performs, Bodhi usually enjoys a glass of wine in his dressing room as he changes, before heading home to his apartment. He’s never been in the main part of the club after a show before. Being out in the throng of bodies, surrounded by artificial fog and flashing lights, is new and different.

It’s hot and crowded and sticky. The thump of the bass is so loud that his whole body vibrates. Men are making out on the dance floor that replaced the stage immediately following Miss Coco Bodhacious’s set. Someone passes Bodhi a lit, hand-rolled cigarette. The smoke is sweet and herby. Bodhi quickly passes it on to someone else.

As he pushes his way through the crowd, men try to pull him into a dance but he shakes them off. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Freckles dancing with a woman in a bridesmaid sash but by the time he reaches the spot, they’re nowhere to be found.

Bodhi deflates. He has no idea how he’s going to find the man he’s looking for. He might not even be here still.

This is so dumb. One of Bodhi’s worst ideas really. It’s a Friday night, the club is packed, and he thinks he's going to…what? Magically stumble into his dream man and fall madly in love? So stupid.

Giving up on this ridiculous plan, Bodhi sulks off to the bar area on the other side of the club. This area is at least familiar. Before he had a solo set, he used to run drinks and wait tables for the VIP lounge section. He’s still friends with some of the bartenders, even though they don’t work together directly anymore.

He pushes through the crowd surrounding the bar and bullies his way onto one of the bar stools. The purple-haired bartender nods to Bodhi and finishes up the drink they’re working on. Others had waited longer, but the bartender makes a beeline for Bodhi.

“Bodhi!” Their smile stretches wide across their face and they hold out their hand to Bodhi. “I thought you were too good for us now that you’re a big shot.”

“Hey, Heaton.” Bodhi takes the bartender’s hand. “Nah, I’m never too big for you.”

Heaton laughs. “Sure. What brings you out here tonight, then?”

“I’m meeting someone.” Bodhi feels himself blush.

“Ah, the guy who comes to watch you every night.”

Bodhi’s stomach flips. “How did you—”

“Quinn.”

“Her and her big mouth,” Bodhi mumbles. He doesn’t like that Quinn’s been talking about his love life to the rest of the staff. Still, the look on Heaton’s face is warm and encouraging. It puts Bodhi at ease.

“What can I get you to drink while you wait for him?” Heaton asks. 

“Malibu Coke, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Heaton scoops ice into a glass and pours the Malibu, more than they’re supposed to for a single drink, and then tops it off with coke. They’re adding a lime to the rim when Bodhi feels an alluring presence behind him. 

The back of his neck prickles and every impulse in his body screams at him to turn around and look. Muscles throughout his body go taut. His heart slams against his rib cage. He practices his breathing exercises in an attempt to calm down, but it’s no use. He feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin.

Heaton sets the drink down in front of him. “You paying cash or are you opening a tab tonight?”

“Oh, cash.” Bodhi reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet, but he’s stopped by a warm hand pressing into the small of his back. Bodhi stops breathing. He doesn’t dare look at the man standing beside him.

“Actually,” a bright, playful voice says. “This one’s on my tab tonight.”

“Sure. What’s the name, dear.” Heaton winks knowingly at Bodhi and mouths the words He’s hot. The back of Bodhi’s neck warms. The man’s hand presses firmly into his back. He still hasn’t turned to him, but he can feel those beautiful brown eyes watching him. 

“Ridoc Gamlyn. I’m at lounge table seven.”

Bodhi makes an embarrassing squeaking sound as Heaton’s eyebrows shoot up to their purple hairline. “You’re a guest of Mr. Varen.”

Mr. Varen is the club’s owner and lounge table seven is his personal table. It’s exclusive. Private. Invite only. If he’s sitting at that particular table it means…

Bodhi turns to face the man at last.

He’s struck first by those eyes. Warm and dark, a rich coffee color. He’s been staring at these eyes for six months, but only from afar; now he’s close enough to feel their full impact, the thick lashes devastating, the flecks of honey dazzling. He could get lost in these eyes so easily. 

Bodhi’s gaze flickers over the rest of the man’s face, drinking in the details, memorizing the lines as if he’ll never get another chance. The rich brown of his skin. The quirky smile on those delectable lips. Perfectly sculpted brows. A dragon scale tattoo peeks out from his collar. His nose—Bodhi doesn’t know how to describe this even in his head, but he has a perfect nose. What a ridiculous thing to notice. 

Fuck. He’s been staring for too long. Ridoc’s mouth moves and Bodhi has no idea what he’s saying.

“Tyvon’s an old buddy of mine from college,” Ridoc explains with a shrug. Right. Talking about the private table. “Can we get a couple of tequila shots too? Best you got, please.”

Bodhi has to say something or he’s going to have to pretend to be mute for the rest of his life. This is the first thing he’s ever going to say to this man— Ridoc, his name is Ridoc; the name sounds delicious in Bodhi’s mind—and he had better not fuck this up.

“Hi,” he says, and wants to kick himself. He’s sitting here with the most attractive man he’s ever met and the best he can come up with is hi? No wonder he’s chronically single. He’s so stupid. So boring. So—

“Hi,” the man says back with a smile. Immediately Bodhi forgets every thought he’s ever had and a pleasant warmth pools below his navel. The man’s eyes twinkle and it’s all Bodhi can do not to swoon. “I’m Ridoc.”

Bodhi swallows, trying to clear his throat and calm the butterflies attempting to escape his stomach. “I know.” 

Ridoc smugly cocks a brow. “You know?”

“Well, you just told Heaton so they could put it on your tab.”

“So you were paying attention,” Ridoc teases. “And here I thought you were pretending not to notice me.”

Heaton returns with their shots and Bodhi bites back the words he wants to say. Ridoc hands the first glass to Bodhi and keeps the second for himself. He lifts it up and says, “Cheers.”

“Wait!” Bodhi says. Ridoc stops. A question lingers in his eyes. Bodhi feels his face turn scarlet as he says, “I need a lime.”  

Ridoc grins and winks. “Not with this you don’t,” he says. “Trust me. Bottoms up.”

Ridoc pours back the shot and Bodhi scrambles to do the same. To his surprise, it’s warm and sweet. It reminds him of Ridoc’s eyes and he wonders if this might be what Ridoc tastes like. His pants warm and tighten at the thought.

The stool next to Bodhi’s opens up and Ridoc slides into it. Bodhi misses the warm, steadying touch of Ridoc’s hand, but then Ridoc scoots his stool close until their knees brush. A spark of heat skitters across Bodhi’s skin. His heart beats so loudly that he’s sure Ridoc can hear it.

Ridoc orders himself a drink and Heaton brings him back something colorful in a fancy glass. It’s the kind of fruity drink of someone secure in their masculinity—or someone who just doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him. Bodhi could never have ordered a drink like that in Aretia. 

“How did you know it was me?” he asks once Ridoc is settled.

Ridoc’s eyes flick down, and settle on Bodhi’s left forearm. The tattoo. Bodhi hastily moves his arm behind his back and Ridoc frowns slightly. “You don’t like it.”

It isn’t a question. Somehow, Ridoc just looks at Bodhi and knows.

Bodhi shakes his head anyway. “It reminds me of a time and place and people I don’t want to remember.”

Ridoc nods along as if this makes any sense at all. He waits for Bodhi to go on, but when he doesn't, Ridoc breaks the silence. “I would have known it was you even without it. I can—” Ridoc cuts himself off with a laugh. “This sounds so stupid, but it’s like I could feel you here tonight. I swear I followed you all over the club and then…I ended up here. And here you are.”

“Here I am.” Bodhi smiles because, to him, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. He swears he feels Ridoc too. Like they’re connected by some invisible thread of fate. 

Ridoc’s grin widens, but there’s not a trace of meanness in his voice as he teases, “Though the jorts are a nice surprise.” He looks Bodhi up and down with so much intent that Bodhi’s toes curl in his sneakers.

Bodhi laughs. The sound is unrestrained for once, having been startled out of him. Ridoc’s eyes sparkle with sudden delight, almost like joy. Bodhi’s missed feeling joy; his own bubbles up in response.

Bodhi doesn’t feel the thumping bass vibrate the floor. He doesn’t hear the rowdy voices all around them. He doesn’t smell cheap cologne or cheap beer. He’s unaware of the people trying to push their way to the bar. It’s like Ridoc cast a spell on him, vanishing everyone and everything that isn’t the two of them. 

Ridoc sets his glass down on the bar and swirls it around, making condensation circles on the wood. “Your set was fucking awesome tonight.” He shakes his head at himself and grins. “I can’t believe I actually get to tell you how much a fangirl I am for you.”

Ridoc flashes a charming smile and butterflies take flight in Bodhi’s stomach at the compliment. 

Bodhi blushes furiously. “Well, you don’t need to say it.” He winds up his bravery and swallows, then meets Ridoc’s eyes. “You haven’t missed a show in months.” Except, mercifully, for the complete shit show when Bodhi’s parents had unexpectedly shown up at the club. But Bodhi isn’t going to call attention to that night. 

“That new number is a real showstopper.” Ridoc lets out a low whistle. 

“Thanks,” Bodhi grins shyly. “I was feeling…” he searches for the right word, “…inspired.”

“I know,” Ridoc snorts. “I am a very inspiring gentleman.”

“Who said it was you that inspired me?” Bodhi quips.

“My mistake.” Ridoc pretends to be serious. “It must have been the other dude you spent all night eye-fucking.”

Bodhi can’t even deny it so he takes another drink instead of answering. 

“It might be my new favorite,” Ridoc continues. There’s a wild glint in his eye and Bodhi wonders if he’s ready for whatever he’s getting himself into with this man.

“What was your old favorite?” Bodhi asks, not at all because he wants to make sure to include it in his set every night.

Ridoc’s entire face transforms with that same wild, frenetic energy. “I’ll show you.”

He hops off his barstool and shakes his body in what Bodhi supposes is an imitation of a shimmy. Then, he starts to sing, and Bodhi can barely believe his eyes and ears. A grown-ass man, one he’s sharing a drink with, is dancing like an idiot in the middle of a crowded bar and he doesn’t even fucking care that people are watching.

“I close my eyes and see you before me,” Ridoc croons off-key as he does a body roll and reaches for his toes, completely butchering the choreography. “Think I would die if you were to ignore me.”

“Stop it,” Bodhi laughs. “What are you doing?”

Ridoc keeps singing. “A fool could see just how much I adore you.”

“Oh my Lord! Seriously, you are ridiculous.” Bodhi’s laughing too hard for Ridoc to take his protests seriously.

“I’m doing your dance!” Ridoc calls out before making a jerky move that is definitely not part of Bodhi’s routine. “I’d get down on my knees.” Ridoc drops to the ground before Bodhi and takes one of Bodhi’s hands and brushes his lips against the back. Tingles erupt up to Bohdi’s elbow from the touch and he feels his whole body flush. Ridoc looks up at him, a new earnestness reflected in his gaze. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You know there’s a reason most drag queens only lip sync, right?” Because Ridoc is hilariously pitchy. Those high notes are brutal. But God, it’s so good to see someone just having fun like this. It’s more intoxicating than the tequila. Bodhi could easily get drunk on Ridoc Gamlyn.

And then Ridoc leaps to his feet and does a very crude, very sexy, dance step. He sings at the top of his lungs, “I don’t want anybody else.” Ridoc’s hand slides down his body and Bodhi can’t help but stare. The man looks good, no matter how ridiculous he’s being right now. “When I think about you I touch myself.”

A wave of need pulses through Bodhi as Ridoc sings the “Ooh oohs” and “Ahh Ahhs.”

He’s relieved when Ridoc finally collapses back onto his stool in a fit of giggles because maybe now he can get his own body to calm the fuck down. No one has a right to be that sexy while dancing that badly. Ridoc signals to Heaton and they bring them both fresh drinks. Bodhi hadn’t even realized his glass was empty.

After a comfortable pause for both of them to take a drink, Ridoc grins. “Y’know, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to want to meet me,” he says, sounding the tiniest bit self-conscious for the first time. Ironic that this would make him self-conscious, but not that performance. Ironic and kind of amazing. Ridoc is fun as hell and Bodhi needs someone fun in his life.

Bodhi flushes. “Neither was I.”

“Six months is a long time to wait for someone to decide they want to talk to you.” Ridoc crosses his arms over his chest, the defensive posture negated by the softness of his eyes and his easy smile. “Long enough for me to learn the routines to your entire setlist, by the way.”

Bodhi thinks of a thousand ways to explain why it took him so long to meet Ridoc, but none of them feel right. He’s not sure why tonight was the night, other than…when he was up on that stage, he felt complete in a way he hasn’t before. Rather than answering in words that are too small, he asks, “Why did you wait?”

“I—” Ridoc swallows and his hand tightens on the stem of his glass. “Tyvon’s been trying to get me to the club since he bought it, but you know how it is. My partner—” Bodhi’s eyes fly wide in alarm until Ridoc clarifies, “My business partner. Hang on, he’s around here somewhere.”

Ridoc looks around and suddenly, it’s like the world switches back on. Sound comes roaring back. His nose tickles from too much Axe body spray. Someone bumps into him, spilling something sticky and cold down his back.

“There!” Ridoc points. “The tall dude with the freckles. That’s Sawyer. And that’s our friend Rhi with him, and her new girlfriend, Tara.”

They’re clearly watching Ridoc and Bodhi. Tara turns her face away, hiding her grin. Sawyer attempts to give Ridoc a covert thumbs up but Bodhi sees it anyway. Rhi doesn’t even pretend. She waves and Bodhi finds himself waving back as a bubbly feeling rises in his stomach. “They seem nice.”

“You only say that because you didn’t start a tech company with him.”

“You’re in tech?” Bodhi asks, surprised. He would have guessed Ridoc was an actor or luxury realtor or something. 

Ridoc shrugs. “You ever heard of RSC LandNav?”

No fucking way.

“Shut up,” Bodhi says, his mouth falling open. “You’re telling me that you and him—” he motions to Freckles over his shoulder “—created the world’s leading pocket-sized all-terrain GPS navigation system? I’ve got one.” He pulls out his wallet and flashes a disc the size of a quarter at Ridoc. 

“Damn right I did, and don’t let him tell you he did all the work,” Ridoc says, preening under Bodhi’s attention. “That’s why it took me so long to get down to the club for the first time. Always working. But when I finally saw your show, I realized that I don’t want to spend my life on investor calls. You make me want to live, Miss Coco.”

Fuck. Bodhi blushes deeply as he tries to process all of this. RSC LandNav. Ridoc had to be loaded then. And Bodhi, of all people, makes him want to live. Bodhi’s suddenly self-conscious of his off-brand sneakers. He tucks his feet under his stool where they’ll be hard to see.

His twang slips out as he says, “I make you want to live?” He truly can’t believe it. “But I’m just a boy from Aretia.”

Ridoc’s whole face lights up with the warmth of his smile. “Let you in on a little secret?” He leans in closer. “You and I, we’re not so different. I grew up on a dairy farm.” His lips brush the shell of Bodhi’s ear, and Bodhi’s whole left side shivers with goosebumps. He can hear the grin in Ridoc’s voice as he asks, “So what can a former farm boy do to get a boy from Aretia’s attention?”

Bodhi’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He swallows. “You already have it.”

“Good.” The next thing Bodhi knows, Ridoc’s hands are on his face, cupping his flaming cheeks. The look in his eyes is intense, full of six months' worth of pent-up longing. “Because I don’t care where you’re from.”

And then Ridoc’s lips are on Bodhi’s.

At first, the kiss is slow and gentle. Ridoc’s skin is warm against Bodhi’s mouth. His thumb sweeps along Bodhi’s cheekbone, leaving a trail of tingling skin in its wake. It’s everything Bodhi wants and more. 

Ridoc’s tongue flicks experimentally against Bodhi’s lips and Bodhi parts for him. Ridoc licks in, eagerly deepening the kiss in a way that makes Bodhi’s stomach flip. It’s like someone is tap dancing on his chest.

Emboldened by Bodhi’s acceptance, Ridoc’s kiss turns hungry. Their tongues slide against each other. Ridoc’s hand trails down Bodhi’s face and fists in his curls. Ridoc draws Bodhi closer. His movements are no longer soft and gentle but passionate and confident. It’s— fuck.

It's such a good kiss that Bodhi’s head goes blissfully blank as he loses himself to Ridoc’s touch and all the excess blood diverts to the head between his legs. 

He’s needy now. It’s not enough just to kiss. Bodhi wants to touch and be touched. He wants Ridoc so badly that it fucking feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get inside him in the next couple of seconds.

Without breaking the kiss, Bodhi gets to his feet, abandoning his stool. He steps forward until his body is flush against Ridoc’s and settles himself between the other man’s legs.

The hand not in his hair wraps around Bodhi’s waist and squeezes. Everything is tight and hot and all Bodhi can think is that he wants—no, needs —more.

Bodhi feels Ridoc’s erection against his hip. Each time he brushes against it, it sends a hot, sensual bolt of need directly to his own cock. He slowly works his hand along Ridoc’s thigh, getting closer and closer to the hardness driving him wild.

Ridoc’s hand drops from Bodhi’s curls and his fingers circle his wrist. He pulls Bodhi’s hands away before disengaging their lips. “Wait.”

Immediately, the room feels colder, and louder. Bodhi misses the feel of the other man’s lips on his. He wants to pull him back and kiss him until he’s sick of it—which is to say forever because there’s no way he could ever get sick of that.

Ridoc looks how Bodhi feels. Completely wrecked. His chest heaves with heavy breaths and his lips are swollen. Eyes shining with emotion. Bodhi feels his heart rise in his chest, banging against his throat. Ridoc releases Bodhi’s wrist and slots their fingers together.

“Wait for what?” Bodhi asks tentatively. He’s afraid the kiss wasn’t good for Ridoc, that the other man doesn’t want to do this again. Lord, that would probably fucking break Bodhi now that he’s had a taste.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Ridoc asks. His serious face shifts into a shit-eating grin. “Or am I going to have to call you Miss Coco forever?”

***

The night flies by in a drunken, delightful blur. Ridoc drags Bodhi back to his table in the VIP lounge and introduces him to his friends. They welcome Bodhi with open arms. He learns so much about them that it starts to feel overwhelming.

“There will be a quiz,” Rhiannon jokes.

Ridoc owns a home outside San Francisco, but for the past six months, he’s spent most of his time at his condo in West Hollywood. Freckles and Ridoc met in their freshman year at the University of Minnesota. They were roommates, and Rhi lived down the hall. After graduation, the three of them had moved to Silicon Valley and started RSC LandNav. Ridoc handles the business and marketing while Freckles develops the tech. Rhi got a job as a financial analyst at a nearby firm to pay the bills while the boys focused on the startup. The three of them had lived together in a small flat until the company took off and Rhi met Tara.

Mr. Varen is there, too. Bodhi is intimidated at first, but the club owner treats him like an equal, insisting Bodhi call him Tyvon, and it helps him relax. He asks Bodhi about his show and how he likes working at the club. He offers to take Bodhi golfing sometime, which sounds more like torture than fun, but Bodhi reluctantly agrees, not wanting to pass up such a great opportunity.

It’s a little bit awkward when Tyvon implies that he and Ridoc had been seeing each other casually.  Bodhi has to keep reminding himself that even though he’s been crushing on Ridoc for six months, they’ve only truly known each other for a few hours. It’s not serious. It’s not anything yet. 

Bodhi tries not to let Tyvon’s past with Ridoc bother him, especially after Ridoc leans in and whispers against his ear. “Wanna dance?”

The dance floor is sticky and crowded but Ridoc manages to clear a space for them with his wild moves. He’s no expert dancer but he’s having so much fun that Bodhi finds it infectious. He slides his body up against Ridoc and tries not to show how much he likes that Ridoc is still hard for him.

He can’t help himself any longer. Bodhi cups the front of Ridoc’s jeans and is rewarded with a sinful sound slipping through Ridoc’s kissable lips. He doesn’t think, he just swallows it.

This time it’s Bodhi’s tongue demanding entrance as their mouths slant against each other. It’s sloppy and messy but Bodhi’s past caring about appearances and all that. He just wants to feel close to Ridoc.

It’s alarming how fast he’s falling. If Imogen were here she’d tell him to slow down, but for once Bodhi just wants to let himself go. He knows deep down that this time is different.

Ridoc isn’t like the other men Bodhi’s been with. He’s out and proud. He knows what he wants and he’s made it clear that it’s Bodhi. Bodhi is done questioning it. Done worrying if he’s enough. Done trying to be who everyone else wants to be. From now on, Bodhi just wants to live.

They dance and dance, rubbing up against each other, and only occasionally coming up for air. Ridoc is quick with a joke whenever they do. 

A familiar tune comes on, mixed with a club beat, and they scream Whitney Houston lyrics at the top of their lungs, not even caring that they sound awful. Everyone else does too. It’s hard for Bodhi to catch his breath when he’s laughing so hard, but he doesn’t mind. This is the most fun he’s ever had with someone. With anyone.

His entire body is buzzing with butterflies. Ridoc’s touch is thrilling and addictive. Bodhi’s skin crackles with electricity following Ridoc’s touch and it only leaves Bodhi craving more.

Eventually, the DJ signals the last call. Bodhi and Ridoc don’t stop dancing until the floor empties and the music ends. 

Bodhi doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want this incredible night to end. Ridoc’s body just feels so right next to his. It hurts him to know that the night is almost over. 

For the first time since their first kiss, they aren’t touching. He’s painfully aware of the space between them. It takes all his willpower not to reach for Ridoc.

Ridoc bites down on his lower lip and looks up at Bodhi through his lashes. It’s so sensual that Bodhi nearly loses it right there. He’s impossibly hard. He’s never wanted anyone so badly in his life, not even Liam.

The other man breaks the tension first. Electricity shoots down Bodhi’s arm starting from where Ridoc grabs him. His eyes flick down to Bodhi’s lips and then back up to his eyes. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his expression. 

Ridoc’s hand tightens on Bodhi’s elbow as if he’s afraid Bodhi might disappear if he lets go. “My place is only a few blocks from here.”

“Are you asking me back to your place?” Bodhi swallows. 

“I’ll call a car.” Ridoc nods and pulls out his phone, tapping the screen so quickly Bodhi can barely follow. “Shit!” he swears. “I just got this snap from Tara.”

Ridoc holds out his phone to Bodhi. It’s a video of Freckles, passed out in a large bed with beige sheets. A female voice cackles in the video’s background. His face is smashed into a pillow with his ass pushed up into the air. The man snores loudly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. It looks really uncomfortable and Bodhi rubs his neck sympathetically. 

“What am I looking at?”

“That’s Sawyer,” Ridoc says miserably, “in my bed.”

Bodhi’s breath catches. He’s looking at Ridoc’s bed. His eyes flick across the screen, trying to take in as many details as he can. The bedding is silk and luxurious. It’s nearly as wide as Freckles is tall and the slats on the headboard are perfectly spaced so that Bodhi could—

He shakes his head, clearing the suddenly filthy picture from his mind. 

“For some reason, I thought you’d have Ninja Turtles sheets or something,” he says, just to fill the space between them with words. 

“First off,” Ridoc chuckles, practically glowing at Bodhi’s teasing, “they’re Pokemon. Second, they’re at the house in the Bay Area. I keep my adult sheets on the bed in West Hollywood, in case you ever decide to come over for sex.” He winks. ”You seem like the kind who deserves something fancy. But unfortunately, that plan backfired when I gave my friends a key.”

Bodhi flushes. “My place is a bit further, but we could be alone there.”

Ridoc nods enthusiastically. “Sweet. Text me the address and I’ll get us a ride.”

Bodhi tells him the address for his building, then pauses, thinking of something. “I just have to run back to my dressing room to grab a few things.”

***

Not fifteen minutes later, Ridoc shoves Bodhi into the back of a brown Toyota Prius.

“You Aotrom?” Ridoc asks the driver, who grunts in affirmation. “Cool.” 

He slides into the back alongside Bodhi, and the Prius pulls away from the curb. As Bodhi reaches for the seatbelt, he’s painfully aware of the heat radiating off Ridoc. His fingers twitch instinctively toward the other man. It’s going to be impossible to keep his hands to himself for the whole ride. 

Ridoc watches him. Sultry eyes travel from Bodhi’s lips and over his chest before settling on Bodhi’s exposed thighs. He suddenly remembers that he’s wearing fucking jorts. 

“Leave it.” Ridoc swallows audibly and he reaches forward, pushing the seatbelt away from the buckle.

Bodhi’s brow crinkles but he lets the seatbelt retract. “What are you—?”

“Come here.” Ridoc’s voice is husky and low. 

“What?” What exactly does he want here?  

“I said,” Ridoc draws out the words, “Come here. Sit in my lap.”

Bodhi’s heart races and his eyes dart to Aotrom in the front seat. A muscle ticks in the man’s jaw. “Your Uber rating—”

Ridoc laughs, low and sensual. “I couldn’t care less about that right now.”

Tired of waiting, Ridoc leans over and brushes his lips against Bodhi’s cheek. The soft touch is like a bolt of energy straight to his dick. His shorts are way too fucking tight for this. “Ridoc,” he whimpers.

“Just relax.”

Kisses trail down Bodhi’s jaw and Ridoc pauses when he reaches the pulse point of Bodhi’s neck. His tongue flicks out and Bodhi can’t stop his breath from hitching. “Do that again.”

He feels Ridoc’s lips curve against his skin and then his tongue darts out again. Bodhi’s hips buck outside of his control. “I really think I should put my seat belt on.”

“But if you do, then I can’t do this.”

The next thing Bodhi knows, Ridoc has both hands around Bodhi’s waist. He squeezes with enough pressure to be just shy of painful, and Ridoc lets out a strangled sound. “Your body is unreal.”

Then he pulls Bodhi forward, catching him off guard. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bodhi laughs the question and scoots until he’s fully on top of the other man. He can feel Ridoc’s erection against his ass. He can’t help it; his body wiggles of its own accord, grinding against that intoxicatingly hard bulge.

“I wanted you in my lap.” Ridoc squeezes him again and Bodhi melts into the touch. At this point, there’s nothing Ridoc could ask for that he’d refuse. 

Ridoc trails kisses down Bodhi’s neck until his face is buried in the crook. He breathes in deeply. “How do you smell so fucking good?”

“The body glitter is scented,” Bodhi moans as his eyes flutter shut and his cock throbs.

Ridoc’s hands caress Bodhi’s arms, his chest, working their way lower and lower. His skin burns where Ridoc touches. Heat rises in Bodhi and his body moves of its own accord, grinding against Ridoc until he’s rewarded by hips thrusting up to meet him.

Ridoc groans. “I want to fucking bathe in your body glitter.”

“You want to do what?” Fuck. Why is Ridoc talking when there are so many better things he can do with his mouth?

“So I can smell you on me all the time.” He breathes in again and fuck, that’s hot. “Like falling into the cotton candy machine at the county fair.”

Bodhi surges upward, swallowing Ridoc’s words. Their mouths clash together and then open. Tongues meet and tangle desperately with each other. Bodhi’s hips rock forward trying to find Ridoc. Searching for something to relieve the aching pressure building between his legs.

“Ridoc, please.” Bodhi’s barely aware of what he’s begging for, only that Ridoc is the only one who can give it to him.

Ridoc leans down and whispers in Bodhi’s ear, “Please what?”

“Touch me.”

There’s a cough from the front seat but neither man pays the driver any attention even as he says, “There’s a $200 cleaning fee if you fuck in my car.”

“Touch me,” Bodhi pleads again.

“But what about my Uber rating?” Bodhi cracks open an eyelid to see Ridoc grinning, a wicked look in his eyes. 

Bodhi’s lids close. “Fuck your Uber rating.”

Ridoc cackles and runs his hands down Bodhi’s sides. His long fingers trickle down Bodhi’s legs until they reach the bare skin at his mid-thigh. He massages them with expert skill. Squeezing and stretching Bodhi in all the right places.

If it was possible to die from being horny, Bodhi would already be dead.

“I’ve been thinking about these legs all night,” Ridoc whispers like he’s admitting one of his deepest, darkest secrets. “Your jorts are driving me fucking wild.”

Bodhi laughs and Ridoc hums in contentment as he runs circles over the sensitive skin on Bodhi’s inner thigh. Goosebumps break out across his skin and a shock races down his spine. Bodhi whimpers as his hips jut forward.

“Shhh,” Ridoc coos. “Relax babe, it’s just your body’s natural reaction to being touched by a sex god.”

Bodhi can’t even deny it as Ridoc slides his hands up under Bodhi’s shorts, inching higher and tickling the delicate flesh. No one, not even Liam, has ever made Bodhi feel so desperate.

He doesn’t care that they’re in an Uber on their way to his crappy apartment that’s probably smaller than Ridoc’s linen closet. He just wants this man. Right fucking now.

Ridoc’s hands are so close to where Bodhi wants them now. He strokes and teases. It tickles. It burns. It’s both too much on his over-sensitive skin and yet not nearly enough.

Ridoc hits a spot that makes Bodhi buck. He jerks forward causing Ridoc’s hand to brush up against his dick. Even through his briefs, the feeling is electric and Bodhi breathes in sharply. He’s going to fucking finish before Ridoc even gets him out of his pants if they keep this up.

“I wish you weren’t wearing these.” Ridoc’s fingers dip beneath the leg band on the left side of Bodhi’s underwear. He pulls them away from Bodhi’s legs and then lets the band snap back into place. “It would be so much easier to get a hold of you.”

Fucking hell. Bodhi curses himself for putting the underpants on. He wants Ridoc to take him in his hand, to rub down his shaft. He wants him to tug and squeeze and he doesn’t want to wait.

Ridoc’s palm brushes across him over his underwear, once, twice, then settles over his crotch. Ridoc presses down and Bodhi can’t help but squirm against him. Ridoc squeezes and his thumb finds his head by the spot wet with precome.

His legs are on fucking fire where Ridoc touches them. The crux where his hips meet his pelvis is throbbing. His dick feels like it’s about to burst through his zipper. Everything is so tight. The pressure behind his spine crescendos and he’s racing toward his release. The world around him starts to fray, lost to blinding, white pleasure.

And then the Prius stops and the driver says, “This is it, boys.”

Bodhi blinks in disbelief at the pleasure so rudely snatched away. They’re parked in front of his apartment. They can't be here already. The trip from here to the club has never been so short.

“Alright,” Ridoc says, breathing a little hard as he scoots Bodhi off his lap. “Thanks, man.”

They exit the vehicle and Bodhi heads towards the front steps of the building. Ridoc is right behind him until he doubles back to tell the driver, “There’s a $500 tip in it for you if you give me five stars.”

The man presses a few buttons on his phone then holds it up for Ridoc to see. Satisfied, Ridoc pulls out his wallet and fishes out a handful of bills. The driver beams as if Christmas has come early.

As Ridoc jogs back to Bodhi’s side, all cocky smile and self-assurance, Bodhi’s own smile falters. He can’t help but worry that his shabby apartment will turn Ridoc off. 

“It’s not much,” Bodhi says, hesitating outside the front door. He feels his face darken.

“It’s perfect.” Ridoc takes Bodhi’s hand and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the palm.

“How would you know?” Bodhi asks. “You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”

Ridoc shrugs. “It’s yours.”

And just like that Bodhi melts into him again. 

Ridoc catches him by pressing their lips together. Bodhi reaches frantically for the button on Ridoc’s jeans. He’s got it undone and the zipper down before Ridoc reminds him that they’re still outside.

Not bothering to fix Ridoc’s pants, Bodhi drags him into the building, barely able to key in the code to the front door in his frantic state. They walk awkwardly, still kissing, up to the elevator and Bodhi jabs the button.

“Come on,” he groans. He hears the elevator moving but it’s too fucking slow. “I live on the third floor. We can take the stairs,” Bodhi breathes between kisses.

Just then the elevator dings. Ridoc pulls back and smiles. “Saved by the bell.”

“The stairs wouldn’t have been that bad,” Bodhi protests as they get on the elevator. He presses the button for the third floor.

“No,” Ridoc says in that way that Bodhi’s learning always precedes a raunchy joke. “But then I couldn’t do this.”

It’s the second time tonight that Ridoc catches him by surprise. Ridoc pushes Bodhi up against the elevator wall and shoves his knee between Bodhi’s legs. The friction nearly makes Bodhi’s legs fall out from under him.

“Fuck,” Bodhi breathes.

“Oh, I plan to.”

They’re a jumble of limbs when the doors open and they stumble into Bodhi’s hallway. 

“Third door. Right.” He’s no longer capable of speaking in complete sentences, having been driven nearly out of his mind by the need pulsing through his veins. He’s barely functioning at all, if he’s being honest. He just needs to come too badly for anything but his dick to cooperate with him.

Ridoc half drags Bodhi to the door he indicates and reaches into Bodhi’s pocket to pull out the keys. He unlocks it with ease then yanks Bodhi inside, letting the door swing shut behind them.

As soon as it does, Ridoc slams Bodhi up against the wall, hands clenched in his T-shirt. His mouth mashes against Bodhi’s again and Bodhi is struck with the certainty that each of Ridoc’s kisses gets better and better.

One of Ridoc’s hands finds the button on Bodhi’s shorts. He pulls the shorts and his briefs down in one swift motion and Bodhi nearly comes as Ridoc’s warm fingers wrap around his length. 

It’s all perfect. Ridoc uses just the right amount of pressure. He moves at just the right speed. His thumb slides along the vein just as Bodhi likes, then circles the tip, spreading the precome leaking out around the head. Bodhi’s knees start to tremble.

After a moment, Bodhi remembers to reach for Ridoc. His pants are already undone so all Bodhi has to do is pull him out.

At first, he only stares, admiring the way Ridoc looks in his hand. He’s thick, and uncut, and the most beautiful fucking thing Bodhi has ever seen in his life. There's so much he wants to do with this dick, but for now, he’ll settle for getting Ridoc off.

Bodhi’s hand starts to move in time with Ridoc’s. He replicates the motions, striving to do everything to Ridoc that Ridoc’s doing to him.

He’s making high-pitched mewling sounds now. The tightness, the frayed edges of the world hit him like a ton of bricks. Fuck. They just started. He’s not ready for it all to end yet.

Then Ridoc grunts and swats Bodhi’s hand away from him. It stings, at first, that Ridoc doesn’t want Bodhi to touch him, but he’s too blissed out to think about what it means, especially a moment later when Ridoc’s cock joins his own in Ridoc’s hand. He thrusts and Bodhi’s knees buckle. It’s only Ridoc’s hand pinning him to the wall that keeps him upright.

Ridoc’s tongue slides into Bodhi’s mouth, the perfect supplement to the divine friction of their cocks rubbing together, only to withdraw again. Bodhi starts to protest, but he’s cut off by Ridoc sucking his lip into his mouth. His teeth scrape along Bodhi’s lip and Bodhi cries out, “Oh my fucking God,” as his cock pulsates.

He shatters. No, it’s more like an explosion of sound and sensation and ecstasy. 

The euphoria that overtakes him as he comes is indescribable. All he sees are Ridoc’s big brown eyes staring at him. The same eyes he’s sought out every night at the club for six long, torturous months. Only now they’re hazy with lust. A wave of pleasure crests over him, drowning him in sparkling lights and laughter and tequila shots. 

His limbs buzz and it takes him forever to come down. He’s dimly aware of Ridoc shuddering against him and a second wave of sticky warmth sliding over his cock. He can’t for the life of him figure out why they’ve never done this before. They're certainly going to do it again if he has anything to say about it.

The pressure on his hip from Ridoc’s hand fades and, with nothing there to hold him up, Bodhi slowly slides down the wall.

“Oh my fucking God,” Bodhi repeats, looking up at Ridoc. “Oh my fucking God.”

He has to stop saying that. Mama would simply die if she knew he’d used the Lord’s name for this. Fuck, God might smite her down for knowing, but honestly, was this any worse than the gay shit or the drag? If that didn’t kill her maybe nothing would. Bodhi laughs at the absurdity of thinking about his mother right now, of all times. “Oh my fucking God.”

“I know, right?” Ridoc slides down the wall next to Bodhi. His eyes roll back and his head lolls to the side. “Give me fifteen minutes and I can go again.”

“You want to?”

“Well, yeah,” Ridoc teases. “I’ve only been waiting for this for forever.” He leans over and kisses Bodhi, soft and slow. “Besides, up against the wall, barely inside your apartment, with our pants around our ankles? We can do better than that.”

“Nothing could be better than that.” And that is the fucking truth. 

“Not true.” Ridoc nudges him playfully in the side. “Yeah, sure, that was the hottest sex of my life. But I want to romance you, now.”

“You do?”

“If anyone deserves all that mushy stuff, it’s you.”

Bodhi reels from this. He doesn’t know what to say. “How…but…you don’t know me.”

Ridoc considers Bodhi for a moment, and then presses his hand to Bodhi’s chest. He’s suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat. “I know you in here. ” Ridoc’s hand fists the fabric over Bodhi’s heart. “I watch you on that stage and my fucking soul recognizes yours.” Ridoc swallows. “If you need time to get to where I am, that’s cool. I know we just officially met, and this will all probably freak you out, but I swear to God I know you, Bodhi.”

Bodhi doesn’t respond. He’s aware of how heavily he’s breathing. Of the sweat on his brow. That they’re sitting on his hallway floor. He turns to look at Ridoc. It’s so strange to see him outside the club and in Bodhi’s apartment. For so long, he was nothing but the fantasy of the man in the audience—but now he’s real, and cool and funny and everything Bodhi had ever dreamed of in a partner. Maybe it is too soon, but Bodhi swears that he knows Ridoc, too. 

He knows he should offer a tour of his place or something, but he can’t get up yet. His legs still aren’t working. He snorts, finding the whole situation suddenly hilarious. 

“What?” Ridoc asks, grinning. 

“Nothing,” Bodhi replies. “I just can’t believe you’re real. For so long you were just the hot guy from the club, and now you’re…you. Ridoc Gamlyn, tech bro extraordinaire, sex god, amateur comedian…”

Bodhi trails off and Ridoc leans in to kiss him. Bodhi’s cock stirs hopefully from the contact. When Ridoc pulls back he asks, “Can I get you anything? Water? A snack?”

“What?” Bodhi’s brow crinkles in confusion. “We’re in my apartment.”

“I know, but you look like you could use something.” 

“Thanks,” Bodhi says as a warm emotion pools in his gut. He gives Ridoc a crooked little smile. “Yeah, some water would be good. Cups are in the cabinet to the left of the stove.”

Ridoc gets to his feet and tucks his dick back into his pants. It’s still soft and Bodhi feels a flicker of irritation that Ridoc isn’t ready yet, followed by worry. Maybe it’s him. Bodhi doesn’t know Ridoc’s orientation. He was into Miss Coco Bodhacious before even meeting Bodhi. Maybe…he’s too masculine for Ridoc.

He hears the sink turn on in the kitchen and then Ridoc reappears. He crouches down and hands Bodhi the cup. He reaches out and brushes a curl out of Bodhi’s face. The touch is so tender, so intimate, that it leaves Bodhi longing for more. His eyes dart down to Ridoc’s untented crotch and the longing turns to despair.

“Should I wear a wig?” Bodhi blurts.

“If you want to.” Ridoc is smiling at him like he has no idea of the turmoil roiling inside Bodhi.

“But what do you want?” Bodhi asks. “Am I…femme enough for you like this?”

“Oh,” Ridoc smirks and takes a seat next to Bodhi as Bodhi sips on the water. “So you think that because I first saw you as Miss Coco I want you to be her all the time.”

Bodhi nods. He takes another sip and then sets the water to the side. 

“I’m pansexual,” Ridoc shrugs. “I’m attracted to people, and the packaging doesn’t really matter to me. I’m attracted to Miss Coco Bodhacious because she’s confident and drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m attracted to Bodhi Durran because he’s sweet and has the best fucking thighs on the planet.” Ridoc pats Bodhi’s thigh affectionately and then slings his arm around him. He pulls him close. “It’s having my cake and eating it too. And I want to lick the icing off because it's fucking delicious.”

Bodhi’s stomach flips at the word “lick,” and the way Ridoc is looking at him, like he’d like to lick him head to toe, makes Bodhi’s toes curl. His shorts are still down around his ankles and there’s no hiding the fact that he’s once again at full attention. His tip is a dark, needy red against his caramel skin, aching for Ridoc to touch him. 

“That looks painful.” Ridoc’s eyes darken as he not so subtly glances at Bodhi’s dick. His tongue darts out, licking his upper lip.

“It is,” Bodhi sighs, resigned to waiting this out.

“Are you going to do something about it?” Ridoc laughs, a deep heady sound that does nothing to help with his situation. 

“I’m waiting for yours to be ready.” He brandishes a hand towards Ridoc.

He smiles and brings his mouth to Bodhi’s. They kiss lazily until Bodhi makes the most embarrassing sound and Ridoc pulls away. 

“And I’m waiting for you to be able to walk,” he says. “Unless you wanted to do it right here on your hallway floor.” Ridoc raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Again.”

Bodhi’s head tips back against the wall and he stares at the ceiling. “That’s not very romantic,” he says, finally.

“It’s not,” Ridoc agrees before he pushes away from the wall. “Here, let me help you.”

Bodhi feels oddly cherished as Ridoc caresses his leg, pressing a kiss to the backside of his knee as he lifts it. Ridoc takes off Bodhi’s shoe and sock, before repeating the motions on the other side. He removes Bodhi’s pants and underpants next, tossing them to the side so that he’s naked from the waist down. 

Bodhi’s back arches and he groans as Ridoc kisses his way up Bodhi’s leg, from his ankle to his hip. When he reaches the joint, he places Bodhi’s foot on the floor, knee bent. The world seems like it’s spinning around Bodhi as Ridoc jumps to his feet. 

“Come on.” He holds out a hand to Bodhi. 

Bodhi takes it and Ridoc pulls him up. He’s a bit unsteady at first, but quickly regains his footing as the feeling finally returns to his legs. “Thank you.”

“Ah, don’t thank me,” Ridoc says. He rakes a hand through his floppy hair. “It’s really more for me than you. I was tired of sitting on the floor. I’m very selfish like that.”

Bodhi laughs. “Do you want a tour?”

The apartment is barely more than three rooms, but Ridoc excitedly accepts the offer.

“You’ve already seen the kitchen and the hallway.” Bodhi laces their fingers together and tugs Ridoc after him. It feels natural, even if giving a tour with no pants on is one of the strangest things he’s ever done. “This is the living room. I don’t have a dining room so I just eat at that coffee table.”

The couch and coffee table are both second hand but the bookcase and TV stand are new from IKEA. The TV is on the small side but still bigger than what he’d had back in Aretia.

“I love that lamp,” Ridoc says as he points to an antique lamp with a pink shade Bodhi had bought from a thrift store shortly after moving to California. “Mood lighting. Nice.” 

“It’s old.”

“So?” Ridoc squeezes Bodhi’s hand encouragingly. He turns and points to the two closed doors down the hall. “Shall we continue?”

“Yeah.” Bodhi leads Ridoc down the hall. “The door on the right is the bathroom, and this,” Bodhi swings the door open and flips on the light switch, “is my bedroom.”

He watches Ridoc for a reaction, holding his breath. A smile breaks out over Ridoc’s face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Bodhi relaxes. “It’s just like I pictured it.”

“You picture my bedroom?” Bodhi raises a brow as his lips twitch. 

“Every night as I jerk off.” Bodhi chokes at Ridoc’s filthy words, feeling his cheeks go red. His cock throbs and Ridoc grins, knowing exactly what that statement did to Bodhi. He gestures over his shoulder. “Hey, mind if I use your bathroom first?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Bodhi still feels flustered but he tries his best not to show it.

“I’ll meet you in there.” Ridoc winks. “You’d better be naked.”

Bodhi laughs and goes into his room as the bathroom door shuts behind Ridoc. Bodhi pulls his T-shirt off over his head and tosses it onto a pile of dirty laundry on the floor. He flops back on his bed only to immediately sit straight up in horror.

Fuck.

He has an entire pile of dirty laundry on the floor. A pile of laundry that Ridoc will see as soon as he gets out of the bathroom. He’ll see it and be disgusted and leave and then Bodhi will be single and alone forever and Bodhi didn’t move all the way across the country for things to be like they were in Aretia when he was lonely and single because Liam couldn’t fucking man up and admit they were together. 

Bodhi’s mind spirals. 

Oh fuck. What else might Ridoc see? When was the last time he cleaned the toilet? Was the toilet paper roll empty? Had he left his dildo on the bathroom sink? Shit. Would Ridoc judge him for the lavender sparkles? It’s technically a woman’s toy but Bodhi likes the color and vibration patterns.

He scrambles to his feet and tries to kick the dirty laundry behind his desk so Ridoc won't see it. Fuck. He stubs his toe and has to bite down on his lip to keep from yelling in pain. It fucking throbs.

Bodhi pushes the pain out of his mind and bends down to pick up the laundry pile. He’ll shove it into his closet or something.

“What are you doing?” Ridoc’s amused voice floats through the room and Bodhi’s back stiffens.

“Nothing.” He straightens, still holding the pile of laundry. He’s been caught like a deer stuck in the headlights on the interstate. 

"It doesn’t look like nothing," Ridoc teases. “It looks like you’re trying to shove all your laundry in your closet before I see it.”

He drops the dirty clothes in a heap on the floor and puts his hands on his hips. “Well if you hadn’t taken so long–” Bodhi’s voice cuts out and he narrows his eyes on Ridoc’s hands. “What have you got there?”

He smiles and holds out his hand. Three battery-operated tea lights sit in his palm. “Mood lighting. I had a whole thing planned but Sawyer crashing in my bed kind of ruined it.” He flicks on one of the lights. “This is the best I could find in your bathroom.”

“You went through my stuff?”

“Well, yeah.” Ridoc saunters into the bedroom and glances around, slowly taking things in, lingering here and there, touching this and that. Bodhi's heart quickens as he waits for judgment. When Ridoc's gaze flits back to him, Bodhi swallows at the heat in them—and at the softness he sees there. Suddenly it's hard to swallow around the lump he finds in his throat. “How else was I going to surprise you?”

Ridoc turns on the other tea lights and sets them on Bodhi’s nightstand, then reaches over and flicks off the light switch, plunging them into darkness. Electricity crackles between them even in the dark. Bodhi can only see the outline of Ridoc’s face glowing in the tea lights. It’s so stunning, his breath catches.

"Come here," Ridoc says, and Bodhi finds himself walking forward like there's a string tugging on something behind his ribs. 

He stops in front of the other man. He opens his mouth to say something—trying to think of something clever to say, something that will make Ridoc laugh, because he so desperately wants to make Ridoc laugh—but looking into those warm brown eyes smiling softly at him, instead of coming up with words, Bodhi decides to do what he actually wants to do. 

He kisses him. It's slow, sweet, and feels very different from the frenzied, passionate make out from earlier in the evening. Ridoc's hands drift up to Bodhi's shoulders and Bodhi inhales at the touch of his skin.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that enormous purple vibrator in your drawer,” Ridoc whispers against Bodhi’s mouth. He nips at Bodhi’s lower lip. “I’ll let you fuck me with it later.”

They laugh and fall onto the bed. Ridoc rakes his fingers through Bodhi’s curls as Bodhi’s tongue pushes into his mouth. He expects Ridoc to respond by deepening the kiss as he had earlier but instead, Ridoc holds firm.

It’s tantalizingly slow. Almost painful. Each slide of Ridoc’s tongue against his, each scrape of teeth, each meeting of their lips, deepens his desire. But Ridoc seems content to torture him at this glacial pace. Bodhi’s only solace is that he can feel Ridoc hardening against him at last.

Bodhi rolls, dragging Ridoc with him and pinning the other man with his body. Bodhi rolls his hips, dragging his pelvis against Ridoc’s. He shudders as his cock meets Ridoc’s bulge. Fucking perfection.

“Geez, Bodhi,” Ridoc laughs as he moves his hands to Bodhi’s hips, stilling them. He kisses Bodhi lightly, more of a peck than anything. Bodhi makes a pathetic, whining sound. Ridoc is like a drug and he needs so much more. “At least let a man take his pants off first.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m on PrEP,” Ridoc says. “I wanted to say that before we go further.”

“Oh.” Bodhi sits up, straddling Ridoc, and his cheeks flush. He can’t believe he forgot. He’s always so careful with his sexual health. “Me too, but there’s condoms and lube in the top nightstand drawer if you…”

“I’m clean,” Ridoc interrupts and his fingertips dig into Bodhi’s hips. “I got tested six months ago and I haven’t been with anyone since.”

Six months.

Butterflies erupt in Bodhi’s stomach. It’s been six months since Ridoc had sex. Bodhi first noticed Ridoc at the club six months ago. His heart rate ticks up. That can’t be a coincidence. 

But still, six months.

Bodhi opens his mouth to say something, but Ridoc hushes him, pressing his index finger against Bodhi’s lips. His other hand stays relaxed on Bodhi’s bare hip.

“I haven’t had sex with anyone in six months because, from the moment I saw you, there was no one else.” Ridoc’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious as he props himself up. “You had on a green dress and purple lipstick and I fucking saw you and I knew. Then you ripped off the skirt and paraded around the stage in your leotard like you owned the place.”

Bodhi’s heart swells at Ridoc’s words. He’s falling, down, down, down, and yet he hasn’t moved. Ridoc’s hand keeps him steady. It’s soft and warm and Bodhi’s skin burns under Ridoc’s strong fingers.

“Legs for days,” Ridoc groans and slides his hand off Bodhi’s hip and onto his thigh. “I’ve been pining after you ever since. And each night it got harder and harder to leave without talking to you. Now that I’ve got you, I don’t know how I’m ever going to let you go.”

It’s too much. Bodhi’s fucking heart fucking bursts in his fucking chest and his eyes fucking sting as he leans forward and presses his lips to Ridoc’s. He lets his body say the words he’s not yet brave enough to speak. Ridoc is never going to have to let Bodhi go.

“You should get the lube though,” Ridoc says when Bodhi finally comes up for air. “Or else this is going to be much much rougher than I’d planned.”

“Right.” Bodhi grins down at Ridoc before hoisting his leg over the side of the bed. 

He reaches for the drawer, leaving the condoms but grabbing the lube. The sheets rustle as Ridoc shimmies out of his clothes and tosses them to the floor. The lighting is low, but Bodhi still sees how muscular Ridoc is. The area around his cock is dark with shadows and his softly curling hair. Bodhi can’t help but stare.

“A picture will last longer,” Ridoc smirks.

“Fuck. I knew you were hot, but this…” Bodhi swallows as he scoots across the bed to Ridoc’s side. He has the lube bottle in one hand and palms Ridoc’s cock with the other. “You’re the hottest man I’ve ever hooked up with.”

“Obviously.” Ridoc laughs and then says casually, “You like to be fucked, huh?”

“What makes you say that?” Bodhi pointedly avoids eye contact with Ridoc.

“I don’t know.” Ridoc’s voice is laced with laughter. “The massive dildo in your bathroom was a big hint.”

Bodhi pulls back Ridoc’s foreskin and circles the tip with the pad of his thumb, still looking everywhere but Ridoc’s face. This part is always so embarrassing for him. He’s not sure what he should explain. What exactly Ridoc wants to know. 

“My ex exclusively bottomed,” Bodhi begins. He presses his nail into the slit on the head of Ridoc’s cock and Ridoc hisses, sending a thrill down Bodhi’s spine. “I came to LA curious about bottoming but completely inexperienced. After I started working at the club, Quinn and Heaton took me to a sex shop and helped me pick out a couple of toys to, you know, help me get used to it.”

“And did you?” Bodhi finally looks at Ridoc. His eyes are full of understanding. “Get used to it.”

Bodhi nods. “I’m still more comfortable topping.” He bites his bottom lip, suddenly worried. What if Ridoc prefers to be the one who fucks? Can Bodhi relax enough tonight for that? 

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Bodhi starts to protest but Ridoc cuts him off. “Seriously, I like it all. This is no hardship, trust me.”

Bodhi laughs as Ridoc continues, putting Bodhi at ease in a way that’s just so Ridoc. 

“Ridoc—” he starts.

Ridoc puts his hand against his head in dramatic fashion. “Oh no! I have to get fucked by the most attractive person in LA. How terrible.”

“Shut up.” But Bodhi doesn’t mean it and he’s laughing as Ridoc pulls him in for a kiss.

They’re finally skin-to-skin. Chest to chest. Ridoc lays on his back with Bodhi draped over him and it feels so fucking right to be touching Ridoc this way. Bodhi’s body buzzes with energy and he feels like he might weep with joy at the feeling spreading through him all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes.

His hips move against Ridoc, grinding their cocks together, and fuck if this feels like this then being inside Ridoc is going to be like nothing Bodhi’s ever experienced before. He can’t fucking wait for it.

Bodhi breaks the kiss only to squirt a dollop of lube in his hand. He rubs his fingers together to warm the slippery substance before going for Ridoc’s ass.

He doesn’t press in right away. Instead he circles Ridoc’s hole, making everything nice and wet and slippery. The sound Ridoc makes when Bodhi touches him makes his cock quiver with need. He bites down on his lip and wills himself to be patient. 

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Ridoc breathes. “Just like that.”

Ridoc wriggles against Bodhi’s fingers, demanding more. Bodhi obliges and gently slips a finger inside Ridoc. Ridoc moans and grabs his own cock in response.

Bodhi is struck with a sudden bout of jealousy. It’s stupid, but he wants to be the only one to touch Ridoc there, including Ridoc himself apparently. He forces himself to let it go for now.

“Fuck,” Ridoc groans. “Give me more. I can take it.”

Bodhi smiles and thrusts his finger in as deep as it will go. When he withdraws, he adds a second finger before thrusting back in. Ridoc’s back arches. 

“Fuck your fingers.” He pants. “I’ve been waiting six months for you. I want your fucking cock.”

“Soon,” Bodhi croons, pumping in and out of Ridoc. He winces as he slips into his distinct Tyrrish drawl. “You’re not ready yet.”

“I don’t care if it hurts,” Ridoc whines.

Bodhi stifles a laugh. With anyone else, this wouldn’t be funny, but with Ridoc…“And they say romance is dead.”

“It’s cute when you talk like that.” 

For some reason, it doesn’t bother Bodhi that Ridoc not only heard but commented on his Tyrrish accent.

Ridoc squirms, trying to take Bodhi’s fingers deeper. Bodhi curls his fingers inside Ridoc, caressing his inner walls.

“Ah, fuck,” Ridoc pants.

The tight ring of muscle contracts around Bodhi’s fingers and it’s so fucking hot that Bodhi strokes him again, desperate for the same reaction. 

“Ah, fuck,” Ridoc moans again. “Put in a third and do it again.”

Bodhi does so happily. He pumps in and out, curling his fingers whenever Ridoc asks until Ridoc loses all coherent speech. He’s stretchy and loose now. There’s a steady stream of sounds and muttered curses coming from him. Ridoc whimpers as Bodhi removes his fingers from his ass.

“It’s just for a second,” he purrs against the shell of Ridoc’s ear. Satisfaction glows in his chest knowing that Ridoc is completely wrecked for him. “I need to lube up.”

Bodhi doesn’t bother to warm it before spreading the lube along his length. He’s tired of waiting. He’s ready to lose himself in Ridoc’s body. He lines himself up, tip nudging at Ridoc’s entrance. He lets his weight settle over Ridoc as their gazes meet.

“Are you ready?” 

“Fuck yes,” Ridoc breathes.

In one fluid motion, Bodhi thrusts in. 

It’s as perfect as he imagined it. Bodhi fits inside Ridoc like they were made for each other. He’s exquisitely tight, and wet, and warm around Bodhi and Bodhi sinks into the sensation. His body takes over, hips pulling back as he withdraws nearly to the tip just to slide back in.

With a groan, Ridoc’s back arches off the bed and Bodhi slips out. He swears, “Fuck. I’m going to lift your hips, okay? Need a better angle.”

“I don’t care,” Ridoc says, as his hands grasp at the sheets. Bodhi moves into a kneeling position as Ridoc continues, “Just as long as you’re back inside me by the time I finish this—” Bodhi’s hands grab Ridoc’s thighs and pull him forward. Ridoc’s legs go over Bodhi’s shoulders, lifting his ass up enough for Bodhi to enter at the perfect angle. “Sentence. Ah fuck.”

Bodhi gives a few shallow pumps of his hips, making sure this position works. “Toss me that pillow.” 

Ridoc obliges and Bodhi catches it. He slides the pillow under Ridoc’s butt and—there, that’s so much better. “Does this feel okay?”

“I miss your weight on my dick,” Ridoc complains and Bodhi laughs before leaning forward. He braces his left hand next to Ridoc’s head and places the other on his chest.

Like their kisses before, their movements are slow and tender. Bodhi is glad they got the urgent, desperate fuck out of the way earlier in the hallway. As badly as he wants Ridoc’s body, he wants this more. The eye contact, the whispered words, the steady way their bodies move together. 

This isn’t fucking. It’s more like…lovemaking.

Bodhi shivers as he thinks the word and Ridoc frowns. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing,” Bodhi whispers. “Everything is perfect.”

And he means it. 

He’s so used to passion meaning hard and fast. But this is gentle and slow, and yet it’s the most intense sex he’s ever had. It’s titillating. It’s sizzling. It’s all-consuming, mind, body, and soul. Each part of him stripped bare for Ridoc.

Bodhi’s free hand trails down Ridoc’s muscular torso. His touch leaves goosebumps across Ridoc’s warm brown skin. He leaves his palm pressed against his trembling belly. The tight muscles contract under his touch as Ridoc’s hips chase after Bodhi’s and fuck, Bodhi could drown in this feeling.

Ridoc explores Bodhi too. It’s like he’s determined to touch and catalog every inch of Bodhi. When Ridoc reaches Bodhi’s ass, he lingers, squeezing and kneading the muscles until he lets out a groan so sexy that Bodhi almost loses it.

He has to stop to give his cock time to calm down. With a knowing smirk, Ridoc stops his hips from rolling against Bodhi. One of his hands slides up Bodhi’s back and threads through his curls. The other drops between them and Bodhi feels Ridoc’s knuckles against his abdomen as he strokes himself.

For an eternity, they stare at each other and Bodhi gets lost in Ridoc’s glowing depths. His chest heaves and he feels a bead of sweat clinging to the tip of his nose. Ridoc breathes in sharply and his hips spasm against Bodhi. The movement jostles Bodhi and the droplet falls onto Ridoc’s chest, breaking the spell.

The next thing Bodhi knows, Ridoc pulls him down and his face rises to meet him. This kiss burns hotter than any other kiss Bodhi's experienced before. Ridoc’s lips are soft, pliant, and open immediately for Bodhi.

His tongue sweeps in and slides against Ridoc’s teeth. Somehow, Ridoc finds the scar on the tip of Bodhi’s tongue, a relic from his failed attempt at kissing Imogen when they were fifteen, and rubs against it. It’s sensual and intimate and when Ridoc’s hand finds Bodhi’s waist, his heart blooms and heat rushes through his veins. 

His hips pull back and he slams into Ridoc. He pumps in and out of Ridoc, never breaking their kiss for more than a few seconds at a time to catch his breath. His spine starts to tingle and his vision starts to fray but he refuses to finish before Ridoc this time.

He lets his body drag along Ridoc’s. Ridoc’s cock twitches against his abs as Ridoc lets out a low, sinful sound. He grabs at Bodhi, squeezing with both hands like he’s holding on for dear life. Ridoc jerks back and his eyes snap shut as his lip curls. His movements are uncontrolled as he thrusts his ass up, taking Bodhi deeper than ever before. Adorable little pants are punctuated with helpless moans. He’s coming apart and damn if that doesn’t leave Bodhi teetering on the edge himself.

Bodhi’s head drops down. He licks a strip up the center of Ridoc’s chest then kisses his way to his nipple. He flicks his tongue over the nub and when Ridoc’s body bucks in response he does it again. He keeps his eyes up, determined not to miss the moment when Ridoc succumbs to ecstasy. 

Sucking the nipple into his mouth, Bodhi reaches for Ridoc’s cock, the weight of it perfect in his hand. He squeezes the head and then runs his nails lightly along the side of his shaft.

Eyes fly wide and Ridoc convulses. His mouth pops open in a perfect “Oh” before he shouts, “Fuck, Bodhi,” and his cock pulses in Bodhi’s hand, filling it with hot, sticky come.

Bodhi’s hand flies from Ridoc’s cock. He quickly wipes it on the sheet, getting most of Ridoc’s mess off before slapping his palm against his mouth. The apartment walls are thin and the last thing Bodhi needs is another noise complaint. 

He leaves his hand there, vibrating against Ridoc’s stream of profanities, until he at last quiets down. Before Bodhi can pull his hand away he feels something warm and wet slide across his palm. He stares at Ridoc in disbelief. The man is licking his hand. His eyes sparkle devilishly as his tongue flicks against Bodhi a second time.

Bodhi blinks. "Did you just lick cum off my hand?"

Shaking Bodhi’s hand away, Ridoc says. "Well, yeah, I'm not going to waste perfectly good jizz.”

Bodhi snorts as a grin breaks out over Ridoc’s face. He’s so fucking cute that Bodhi can barely stand it, and when Ridoc pulls him close he goes willingly. His body shakes as he laughs. The movement sparks delicious friction and Bodhi’s cock throbs, painfully reminding him that this isn’t finished yet. 

Every nerve ending in Bodhi fires with sensation. His body hums. He’s never had an orgasm build this deeply within him. This already feels like too much and he hasn’t even come yet. There will be no coming back from this.

His hips jut forward, his body demanding he resume. Wanting, craving release and fuck, he needs more. The rhythm of his thrusts starts out steady but Bodhi quickly loses pace. His movements and sounds become erratic. His stomach twists. His dick heats and it pulses a little more. He’s so fucking close that he feels his balls tighten.

And then Ridoc hisses, a pained expression flashing across his features. Bodhi comes to a halt, looking down at him with concern. It feels like a balloon deflating in his chest.

“Did I hurt you?” Bodhi’s voice shakes as he tries to control himself. It takes all his willpower to hold still when all he wants is to pound into Ridoc with wild, reckless abandon. But he can’t—he won’t —hurt Ridoc. This man, this experience, is too special.

“I’m very sensitive,” Ridoc explains, clearing his throat. “After.”

“Do you need me to stop?” Bodhi asks, praying the answer is no because he feels like he might die if he doesn’t finish inside Ridoc.

Ridoc shakes his head. “Just try not to touch it too much.”

Oh, thank fuck.

Bodhi looks between them, down their bodies to Ridoc’s spent cock, and shudders at the thought of overstimulation. 

He pushes up onto his knees to keep his body from sliding against Ridoc as he starts to thrust once again. Ridoc’s eyes roll up and he drops back onto the pillow, looking flushed and exhausted. 

Holding Ridoc’s hips flush against him, Bodhi pushes in to the hilt. An electric shock runs down his spine as he pulls out and Ridoc’s gaze finds his again. Energy pulses through him as he fucks Ridoc’s hole. He moves in and out, the pleasure growing behind his navel. He keeps his eyes locked on Ridoc’s the entire time. He has the absurd desire to laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s just happy.

Ridoc is too—Bodhi can tell by the gentle curve of his lips and the way he encourages Bodhi to keep going. It’s that encouragement and the way the smile crinkles the skin around Ridoc’s soft, adoring eyes that finally does Bodhi in. 

Orgasm rips through him, starting in his chest and barreling through his cock. It pulses, erupting into Ridoc, and a rush like Bodhi has never felt before seizes his body, spreading from head to toe like wildfire.

He falls forward and buries his face in the crook of Ridoc’s neck, biting down on skin and muscle to suppress his shout. Distantly he hears Ridoc giggle and say, “Oooh, kinky,” but he’s too lost in the pleasure to react to Ridoc’s words. His limbs turn to jelly and his deadweight covers Ridoc like a blanket. 

Bodhi can’t believe he gets to have this. Whether it’s just for tonight or something that will grow into something more, which he desperately hopes it will, this moment right now is all he’s ever wanted. 

They lay there until Bodhi catches his breath. He’s still sheathed inside Ridoc, a fact he’s reminded of when Ridoc squirms beneath him. Bodhi hisses and sits up on his knees. 

Slowly he pulls his dick out of Ridoc and he watches in fascination as his cum dribbles out. Male satisfaction roars in his chest as he thinks to himself, mine.

“What are you smiling about?” Ridoc asks as he props himself up on his elbows.

“That was life-changing,” Bodhi rasps.

Ridoc gets to his knees and brings his body flush to Bodhi. His soft lips caress Bodhi’s. “Wanna do it again?”

***

Bodhi trails a fingernail along the hard expanse of Ridoc’s chest and Ridoc hums in contentment when Bodhi traces his nipple. His eyes are closed and his feet are tangled with Bodhi’s. One of his arms is draped over Bodhi’s body. 

Bodhi loves how intimate it is. Sleeping Ridoc is beautiful. He looks younger, almost boyish, like this. His hair is flopped over his forehead and Bodhi reaches out and brushes it out of his face. Ridoc leans into Bodhi’s touch and his expression is so vulnerable that Bodhi feels emotion welling deep inside him. 

A feeling. A four-letter word he’s only said once before. A word you shouldn’t feel after one night with someone. But it hasn’t been one night. 

Tonight was Ridoc’s thirty-seventh time at Bodhi’s show. Bodhi marked all the times he’s seen Ridoc with a star on his calendar.

That's nearly six months of shows. Six months of longing for Ridoc. Of not knowing him but wanting to. Of seeing the other half of his soul in the crowd. Of loving him from afar.

Love.

That's the only thing that can explain the swelling in his heart. He’s in love with a man he’s only just met.

Bodhi’s stomach tightens at the admission even as his chest soars. Bodhi wants to kiss Ridoc very badly but doesn’t want to wake him.

Ridoc needs his sleep. He’d nearly dozed off that last time while Bodhi was fucking him with the sparkly purple dildo. Ridoc tried to apologize for cutting their night short but Bodhi was secretly glad. He was so exhausted from going again and again that he didn’t think he’d be able to get it up one more time if he tried.

Ridoc had passed out almost instantly, only occasionally responding to something Bodhi does or says, so it surprises him when Ridoc asks sleepily, “Where’s Aretia?”

“Tyrrendor County,” Bodhi answers, wondering why Ridoc is thinking about this now.

“That helps me not at all, as I have no idea where that is,” Ridoc mumbles with a faint smile. His eyes are still closed and his breathing is even. “I want to get to know you.”

Bodhi snorts softly, then says something that makes his chest clench with vulnerability. “You have all the time in the world to get to know me.”

Ridoc’s breath pauses for a second. Bodhi feels his nose nuzzle into his arm. “I’d like that,” Ridoc whispers. “I want to know you for a long time, Bodhi.”

Bodhi’s chest can’t contain the emotions inside him. His fucking heart is expanding. The words “me too” bubble up in his chest. Forever doesn’t feel like long enough.

It’s not lost on Bodhi that Ridoc’s talking like they’re together even though they’ve only technically known each other a couple hours. He’s never had someone jump in head first with him before and it makes him feel special. Wanted. Like he’d follow this man to the end of the world if he asked.

He hopes Ridoc would.

Fuck. Arousal pools deep in his core and Bodhi tries to tamp it down. They can’t do it again now, they’re both too exhausted. He’s too raw and sensitive anyway. He shifts subtly, tucking himself between his legs. If Ridoc notices he’s hard again, one thing will lead to another and then—

“I still wanna know where Aretia is.” Bodhi feels Ridoc’s lips curve, warm against his skin. “And don’t think I didn’t feel that.”

“Tennessee,” Bodhi whispers back, ignoring the second part of Ridoc’s comment. He isn't sure whether Ridoc heard him or if he’s already fallen back to sleep because, for a long time, Ridoc is quiet.

Then, he stirs. “What’s it like?” Ridoc snuggles closer, his warmth radiating out to be absorbed by Bodhi.

Bodhi swallows and feels the glow in his chest dim. He wants to say, don’t ask that. Tonight is too special to tell Ridoc about a place that’s brought him nothing but pain. 

Instead, he says, “It doesn’t make for a very good bedtime story.”

What would he even say about his hometown? That he’d gotten outed and the town had turned on him? Too real. That it was a two-hour drive to the club he danced at? Too unimportant. That he’d had to hide the person he truly was, even from the man he’d loved? Too sad.

“It’s the rural south,” he settles on. “A bunch of redneck Bible thumpers.” He clears his throat. “It’s…not a nice place for men like us.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Ridoc says. His voice is quiet.

Bodhi holds him tighter to his chest. “Why should you be? It’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you left?”

It’s a few long seconds before Bodhi decides how to answer. “I was alone in Aretia.” His voice starts to shake. “I had no one. And if I was going to be alone, then I might as well be alone somewhere like Los Angeles, where no one is going to sneer at me or call me names.”

Ridoc huffs out a breath. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone anywhere.” His words are slow and interrupted by a yawn. “You mentioned an ex you left behind.”

Though Ridoc can’t see with his eyes closed, Bodhi nods. “Liam.”

“Liam,” Ridoc says as if hearing the name for the first time. “How is he dealing with it?” When Bodhi is quiet—God, he has no fucking idea how to even start to explain—Ridoc clarifies, “The homophobia and bigotry.”

Oh. Bodhi snorts bitterly. “By marrying his beard.”

“Ouch.” Ridoc winces. He reaches for Bodhi’s hand and brings it to his lips before lacing their fingers together and holding their joined hands to his chest.

The lump in Bodhi’s throat tightens. He’s reliving the worst night of his life. All he can do is hope that Ridoc can’t tell how much it affects him. 

“He proposed to her in a panic the night everyone found out about me.”

“Okay, so definitely not going to come steal you away from me.” Ridoc presses his lips to Bodhi’s bicep. “Is it bad that I’m a little relieved?” 

Bodhi’s lips quirk at Ridoc’s little show of jealousy, over him. It makes him feel good. Feel wanted. He presses a kiss to Ridoc’s dark hair. “There’s nothing there to worry about,” he assures him. “We were just the only guys we knew who liked dick. It’s all we had in common.”

Ridoc relaxes into Bodhi. He seems much more awake now and Bodhi feels guilty for keeping him up, even though Ridoc technically started the conversation. Ridoc nuzzles Bodhi’s neck and asks, “What about your family?”

Fuck. His body stiffens. Bodhi really doesn’t want to talk about that. Not on night one.

“Mama and Pa came to visit me back in March,” he hesitates, cutting himself off from saying more. He doesn’t want to bring them into this space, this moment. 

Ridoc nods, his eyes still closed. “So, that’s good…?” He makes it a question.

Bodhi can feel his voice go flat and hard despite himself. “They got an early flight home and told me I needed to find Jesus.”

“Ah, fuck.” Ridoc turns toward Bodhi and cracks an eyelid. “You okay, man?”

“Some days I am.” Bodhi squeezes Ridoc’s hand. “Other days, it fucking hurts.” Bodhi swallows. This is too painful. Too raw. He needs to change the subject. “How did your family take it when you came out?”

“My mom died in a farming accident when I was young so it was always just me and Dad.” Ridoc takes a deep breath. “He always thought I’d take over the farm, and I was so fucking scared to tell him that I was more interested in computers. I stopped eating for a week before I finally told him, I was so nervous. And you know what he said when I finally got the balls to say it?”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

Bodhi flinches. His own father had certainly never said those four words to him, even when he was still passing for straight.

“Then, when that went better than expected,” Ridoc continues, “I told him I was pansexual and he was very confused. He had no idea what that meant, and at first, he was a little afraid for me. But then he did a ton of research and now he gives an annual PowerPoint presentation at the town hall about resources for LGBTQ teens.”

“That’s…really sweet,” Bodhi says. He keeps his voice light, but it’s hard to ignore the jealousy clawing at his stomach. “You’re lucky to have a parent like that.”

Ridoc smiles softly. “I know. I can’t believe I almost didn’t tell him, but it turned out I was worried for nothing.”

An awkward silence settles between them. It feels almost…preachy. Their families aren’t the same. Bodhi’s family doesn’t love him the way Ridoc’s does. They love a version of him that no longer exists. One that never really existed at all. 

Ridoc doesn’t know, can’t know what Bodhi’s gone through with them. His stomach clenches. It’s the first time he’s felt uncomfortable since he deleted Liam’s messages hours and hours ago.

Bodhi moves to push him away but stops when Ridoc shakes his head. “I just don’t understand how an entire town turns their back on someone as amazing as you, just because he sleeps with men and wears women’s clothes.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Maybe they just don't know how to show it, but I have to believe there are still people that care about you. You’re so special, Bodhi. I knew that from the first moment I saw you.” He snuggles back down against Bodhi.

Bodhi’s heart skips and he tightens his grip on Ridoc. Maybe, if he changes his perspective, he can try to see what Ridoc’s saying. He wants it to be true.

He thinks of Imogen’s almost daily calls. Of the letter from Xaden. Of the meme Ciaran had texted him this morning, and the link to Masen’s virtual book club. Maybe Ridoc’s right. But if he’s wrong...fear churns in Bodhi’s stomach. So much of him wants to just never think about Aretia again. Everything would be simpler. 

Thinking of Aretia is never good. All it ever does is fuck him up. Throw him off balance. Make him miss people he can never have. People who don’t understand him. 

Snoring fills the room. Bodhi holds Ridoc, waiting until he’s sure the other man is fully asleep. His mind keeps replaying their conversation. It feels important—like he’s missing something vital. 

Finally, he can’t stand staring at the ceiling anymore. He creeps carefully out of bed to find his pants. He pauses when the bed creaks; the last thing he wants to do is wake Ridoc up again. The man has to be up in just a handful of hours to head back to San Francisco to wine and dine his investors. 

It’s difficult to navigate his apartment in the dark so he turns on his phone flashlight. The pants are where he left them in the hallway, thrown aside unceremoniously. In the back pocket is Xaden’s crumpled-up letter. He’d tossed it in the trash in his dressing room before the show, but had gone back to grab it at the end of the night before getting in the taxi, for some inexplicable reason. 

Bodhi fists the paper and drops his pants back on the hallway floor before heading back to his bedroom. This letter. This night. It feels almost like fate—and if there is something he’s supposed to figure out, he’ll be damned if he misses it out of pure stubbornness.

Ridoc’s voice echoes in his head. “Maybe they just don’t know how to show it.”

Bodhi unfolds the letter and stares at the words on the page, written in his cousin’s tidy handwriting. The familiarity of it makes his chest ache for the time when everything was normal between them, before Xaden found out. He misses him more than he can put into words. He’s torn between being relieved that he doesn’t have to hide and longing for the days when their relationship was easy.

Growing up, they’d always had each other. After Xaden’s mother left, Bodhi’s mother had stepped up for him. They’d been raised more like brothers than cousins, with only a duplex wall separating their bedrooms at night. At nights, when Xaden couldn’t sleep, he’d knock on their shared wall and Bodhi would knock back, to let him know he was there so Xaden would never feel alone.

Now, they’re separated by a thousand miles and diametric worldviews. He wonders if Xaden is as lonely as he is.

He scans the letter, desperate to find whatever it is in it that’ll help Bodhi fix everything. There has to be something. He’s sure of it. He’ll read it as many times as he has to for it to click.

Bodhi,

I know your dad is an ass, but your mother isn’t doing well. The chemo isn’t working anymore and it’s killing my dad to watch his sister waste away to nothing. Call her. You’ll regret it if you don’t. 

And Lord knows, it might actually help. You’re her only child and she misses you like crazy. I think she just needs something to live for. When she came back from visiting you, it was like all the fight got knocked out of her. She cried for fucking days. No one will tell me what exactly happened but I know you didn’t mean to hurt her, no matter what Dad and Uncle Dev say.

Believe it or not, but I’m on your side here. I want you to be happy, loved, and safe. I’m just not sure how to help. Tell me how to help. Please Bodhi, I’ll do anything you want.

When my dad told me that you were a sex worker, I freaked out. I know I did and I should have handled it better. (No need to lecture me, my wife already did. I swear, I’ve never seen her so pissed.)

It’s just that I was fucking scared. Do you know how often prostitutes get murdered? I don’t want us to live a real-life episode of Criminal Minds. I already lost you to the big city. I can’t lose you forever.

Plus, I never ever want to make you feel like that ever again. You’re my cousin and I love you, even if I don’t always get it. I want to get it. I want to be a part of your life.

If money is an issue, we can wire you some of our savings. We’ve been saving to start a family, but what’s the point if we can’t take care of the one we have now? Violet already said it’s okay. It was actually her idea.

Or you could come home. The guest room is all yours. I won’t let you back under their roof. Not after the things your dad said when they got back from California. (He’s telling everyone you’re dead, by the way. Liam just about lost it before I set him straight.)

You’re not a disappointment. You’re not a burden. I want you here. So do Violet, Garrick, Imogen, Liam, Ciaran, Soleil…all of us really. We love you and miss you so much. Nothing is the same around here anymore. Garrick is always drunk. Imogen is mean as hell. Liam is clearly completely unenthusiastic about his wedding. It feels like it’s all falling apart since you left.

It’s fucking hard without you and I’m not talking about the business. I miss my brother. I miss talking to you and playing video games and staying up late shooting the shit. It feels like you’ve left us and moved on to live your glamorous LA life. Even before you blocked my number, it felt like I was losing you.

I know I fucked up Bodhi, but please, don’t cut me out. 

Give me a chance to make it right. Please. I can change.

I miss you.

Xaden

He sets the letter down on the desk before him and attempts to smooth it out. His eyes sting and he rubs them. If he thought reading about Mama would be any easier after a night of sex and booze, he was wrong. It’s as deeply upsetting as the first time he read it. 

He knows he’s running out of time…and yet he’s not ready to forgive her for everything that happened when she and Pa visited LA. To forgive her for making him feel like he was wrong for liking boys. Or for bringing him up in a horrible town that called him ugly names. Or for any of it, really. 

“God, what have you done?” The words Mama spoke to him that night at the club ring in his ears. “ You’re a Pink Pony Girl and you dance at this club?” 

“Oh, Mama. I’m just having fun.” He closes his eyes and sees the devastation in her eyes as she comes face to face with Miss Coco Bodhacious. Sees the Pink Pony Girl flyer with his face on it clutched in her hands. The landlord had given it to them, not knowing that they didn’t know and would be disgusted. “On the stage, in my heels…it’s where I belong.”

“You’re no son of mine.” He touches his left cheek. Sometimes he can still feel the sting from his father’s signet ring and the slap across his face. Mama did nothing to stop him. She’d just wailed in the background. 

He feels so guilty. He knows he’ll regret it, but he doesn’t want to see her. He doesn’t even want to talk to her. Not now. Maybe not ever. It’s not fucking fair that he feels forced to make a choice he isn’t yet ready to make. 

Bodhi’s chest squeezes and he reads Xaden’s letter again. This time focusing on the bitterness and pleading in Xaden’s words, rather than his mother. It’s not good, but it’s also not as bad as it sounded when he first read it this afternoon. Sure, Xaden thinks Bodhi’s a whore, but he knows he made a mistake in yelling at Bodhi. He’s angry, but it’s because he’s worried. He doesn’t understand Bodhi’s sexuality, but he wants to try. It’s not much, but it’s more than Mama, Pa, or Uncle Fen ever offered.

Maybe he should try again to explain it. Maybe Ridoc is right. Maybe one day Xaden could be able to see Bodhi for who he is and accept him. Maybe one day, Bodhi could have his family back. Delirious hope rises in his chest. 

He’s not sure what makes him do it—whether it’s because of the letter itself, because of Ridoc’s words, or because of the eerie feeling of fate that’s been dogging him all day today—but he opens a drawer and searches for a pen. He finds one and grabs it and his stationery. He uncaps the pen and starts to write. 

Xaden, 

Thanks for writing to me. Don't think I've left you all behind. I still love you, and Aretia. You're always on my mind.

But if you want to help, first, I don’t need your money or your pity. Between my job and the club, I have enough. Things are tight, but I’m far from desperate.

Second, no matter what they told you, I’m not a whore. I’m a club performer. What I do isn’t sex work, it’s entertainment. It’s like the gay version of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. No one touches me unless I want them to.

Third, stop guilting me about Mama. You have no idea what happened when they visited. Don’t let her trick you into thinking she cares about me. She only loves the idea of me. She came to the club and screamed at me, “God, what have you done?” All I did to upset her was be my true authentic self. I hear those words echoing in my mind all the time. They cut me open and bleed me dry. 

I’m sorry that she’s sick but I’m done trying to pretend to be someone she can accept. Mama and Pa are never going to accept this part of me. I love them, but I love myself too and I can’t change for them, even if I wanted to. This is who I am. 

Fourth, I was not the only gay man in Aretia, though I think you already suspect that. I won’t name names because he deserves to come out on his own terms. All I ask is that you be there for him when the time comes in the way that I needed you to be there for me. You can’t change the past, but you can change and do better in the future.

I almost didn’t write back to you. I’m honestly not sure if this is the right move, but if you’re going to try, then…I will too.

I miss you so much, Xaden. It hurts. I want to come home, but Aretia isn’t home to me anymore. If I’m being honest I don’t think it ever was. It’s a hateful place where people judge you for being different, for wanting to live life on your own terms. Where people hide who they are and have to live in the shadows instead of out in the daylight. 

Home for me is the Pink Pony Club. There’s a guy here and when I dance, he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I swear, he sees straight into my very soul. And for the first time in my life, I’m not ashamed of who I am. I will never, never give that up. I can’t be someone I’m not just because it’s easier for everyone else anymore. I’m too happy just being me.

I want to sparkle. I want to shine. It won’t make my mama proud, but I want to keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club. For now, forever, what difference does it make? 

In order to move forward, Xaden, I need you to know that you can’t change me. You need to accept me for me. I hope someday you can.

Love you always,

Bodhi

Xoxo

Bodhi reads over the letter and, satisfied, sprinkles it with some of his cotton candy glitter. He folds the paper and shoves it in the envelope. He starts to lick the glue, hating its sour taste, when his eyes fall on a stack of photographs from the shoot he did when he started at the club. 

They’re signed. Miss Coco sometimes gives them out when she performs at brunch and bingo. Bodhi puts the envelope down unsealed and reaches for the photos. He flips through them until he finds one appropriate enough to send his cousin.

Miss Coco sits in front of the light-up “Pink Pony Club” sign. One leg is stretched out in front of her and the other is pulled up to her chest. She’s wearing her first-ever blonde wig and a pink leotard, accessorized with a hot pink feather boa and stiletto boots. Her head is thrown back and she’s laughing. Quinn had just made a joke about being a dyke with a mic and the whole cast lost it.

This photoshoot is the first time Bodhi remembers being truly happy. It’s the day he realized that he’d found a home. It’s clear from the confident way Miss Coco holds herself. In the curve of her lip. In the sparkle in her eye.

He smiles to himself and slips the picture into the envelope. It’ll either scare the crap out of Xaden or finally help him see the real Bodhi Durran. Either way, Bodhi’s done hiding who he is. If Xaden wants to be part of his life, that means all of it, not just the parts of him that are easy for a boy from a backward town to understand.

He seals the envelope and sets it on his desk before crawling back into bed beside Ridoc. His arms wrap around the other man, and even in his sleep, Ridoc smiles at Bodhi. Pressing a kiss against the nape of Ridoc’s neck, Bodhi closes his eyes and prays to God that in the morning, this all won’t be just a dream.

He’s ready for the dream to be real.