Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)

He should work on costumes, but it had been a long time since he and Riley had spent a night together. “Not if you want company.”

“I do. You know how I am.”

“Lonely without your man.”

Riley wrinkled his nose. “That sounds so sad.”

Marc patted his shoulder. “It is, baby, but I’ll take care of you.”

Riley punched his arm. “Shut the fuck up. What should we do?”

Marc considered the options. Like Riley had said earlier, neither of them was much in a mood to go out. “Why don’t we watch a sad movie? I could do with a good cry, and I think you could too.”

Riley frowned. “You want to talk about it?”

Look innocent. “About what?”

Riley raised a brow.

“I’m fine. Sometimes I’m just in the mood for sad.” And right then he needed to purge his angst about Riley having what he wanted and Darius being skittish about even going on a date.

How do I know he’ll say no if I don’t ask him?

Riley gave Marc a critical once-over, making him feel quite small. “You suck at lying to me.”

Outright lying maybe, but he was doing damn good with omission. “Can we just watch without you analyzing me?”

Riley sighed. “Fine. What movie?”

Marc considered for a moment. What the hell. He might as well go all out. “Beaches?”

“Wow. You do need a cry.”

Once Marc loaded up the movie, Riley settled on the couch with him and offered him a glass of one of Thorne’s top-shelf bourbons. His glass kept getting magically refilled as he and Riley cried and laughed their way through the sentimental journey.

Riley had to get them a box of tissues partway through, and as the credits rolled, Marc grabbed the last one in the box. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he squeezed his eyes, trying to make them stop. Reacting to the wrenching heartbreak of the movie wasn’t a big deal. That was what they were going for, after all. But he was on the edge of a total breakdown. Get yourself under control.

Riley swiped at the last of his tears and turned the TV off. “I needed that too.”

At least Marc hadn’t made Riley feel worse by forcing him into a cryfest. He tried to stand and—holy fuck, he was really drunk. How much bourbon did I have? He wasn’t sure if he’d said that out loud as he thunked back down on the couch.

Riley frowned at him. “Stay there. I’ll bring you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Okay. Thanks, and thanks for…” He didn’t know how to say what he meant. Come on brain.

“For what?”

“For…um…just being you.” He’d missed Riley. He’d been a shitty friend, caught up in his own quiet fucking drama.

Riley squeezed his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“Darius and I fucked the day I started working for him.” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh, shit.” Riley joined him on the couch.

More words poured out. “It was everything I’d imagined…and more. Darius knows just how to…” No. Don’t say more. “No point thinking about that. He made it very clear that it was a mistake. He doesn’t fuck people who work for him.”

Riley snorted. “Obviously not.”

Right. Darius was a fucking master at following his rules. “He said he couldn’t help himself.”

Riley laid a hand on Marc’s leg. “I’m sure he couldn’t, and now you want more.”

“Anyone would want more. He’s so fucking good.” Marc closed his eyes and groaned as he imagined Darius in his naked glory. “It might’ve been the best sex of my life.”

“But…”

“I want more than sex.” Shit, he didn’t mean to say that. “Sex with my boss when I like him a lot…not good. Disaster. Not each other’s type at all, and he’s an ass, a fucking ass!” Marc yelled the last part.

Riley shook his head. “So’s Thorne. You’ll need something better than that to convince me.”

“Maybe you’re better equipped to handle that. I don’t know if…”

“You’re scared.”

He was. Why was he so reluctant to admit it? Riley had seen him scared, humiliated, defeated. He didn’t have to hold back. That’s what a best friend was for. “Yeah. Scared of fucking my life up. Right now I have a job. I’m learning a lot. I’ve got…direction.” Did he? Really? Maybe so, more than he’d had in a long time anyway. “If I press him, I could lose it.”

“Or you could—”

He shook his head, and the room spun. He gripped the side of the couch to steady himself. “Darius rarely fucks anybody more than once. What was it he said…? Oh yeah. ‘Don’t think you’re special or something; I don’t give many men seconds. Too fucking messy.’”

“Did he really say that to you?”

Marc nodded. He’d been so fucking pissed, and yet Darius had come back for more and more and more.

“I’m gonna learn what I can about taa-talio-tailoring. I’ll work there a few more months, and then…and then not.” He didn’t want to leave Darius, but how the fuck could he sustain this shit? Why the hell couldn’t he follow his dream and have a fucking hot amazing boyfriend like Riley did?