Love in La Terraza (7 page)

The sweet-looking little old lady passed by, winking at Henry instead of Tony and Vito.

“The new guy’s stealing our thunder!” Tony protested.

“Good morning, Cain,” she said, throwing him a wink as well.

Cain gave her a quick wave. “Good morning, Mrs. Robinson.”

Henry did a double take, ready to ask the obvious question, but the brothers started yelling and catcalling at her.

“Take my heart; it’s yours, Ruth!” Vito yelled.

“You don’t want it!” Tony declared. “He’s had multiple bypass surgeries! Take mine! It’s strong like an ox!”

Vito smirked. “Dumb as an ox is more like it.”

“At least, I don’t have to take those little blue pills, if you catch my drift.” Tony nodded curtly.

“Ha! Like that’s something to brag about.” Vito threw his hands into the air. “You stay hard for what? The time it takes for me test my blood sugar?”

“Nah!” Tony yelled, backhanding his brother in the shoulder. “You’re jealous ‘cause I got the real deal.”

Ruth was long gone, yet they hadn’t seemed to notice, which led Henry to believe it was more about one upping each other than actually docking the boat.

“I’m not sure you should know how long your brother can keep an erection,” Cain said, looking mildly disturbed.

“What?” Vito looked as if he’d been struck. “Why, ‘cause we aren’t gay?”

They didn’t wait for an answer before Tony piped in. “You homos these days…think you invented the penis.”

“We ain’t fairies so we can’t talk about sex now?” Vito asked to no one in particular, looking up into the sky for answers.

Tony placed his hands together as if he were ready to pray. “I’ll have you know, we’ve been comparing notes for decades.”

“You’d think someone who sticks their pecker up another man’s ass would be a little less judgmental,” Vito said as Tony nodded in agreement.

Cain was speechless, standing there with his mouth hanging open.

The brothers shook their heads at them and went back inside their apartment, arguing about who Mrs. Robinson would pick.

“That was…mortifying,” Cain said, shaking his head.

“You think so?” Henry asked, walking over to grab the coffee Nic had left there for Cain then handing it to him. He pointed toward the bedroom window, and Cain glanced up while taking a drink. “They all heard us having sex this morning.”

Cain spewed his mouthful of coffee into a fine mist that Henry managed to jump clear from.

Cain’s eyes went wide as saucers staring at the open window. “Oh…
god
!”

“That’s pretty much what it sounded like,” Stu said, passing by with a snarky grin. He was decked out in his gym gear and sunglasses, his hair slicked back. “I’m off to work, boys. Peace out.”

Cain began hyperventilating so Henry assumed he might be a teensy bit upset by this news. He bit back his laughter and grabbed Cain up into a hug.

“I think I might want to die,” Cain whispered. “The things I said…
during
.”

Henry couldn’t help it; he started laughing.

“This is so not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Henry said.

“It’s like the all new and improved humiliation hour, starring me.”

“God damn it, your cute,” Henry said.

“I’m a fucking nightmare, one you should’ve run from, fleeing as fast as your legs would carry you. Yet you’re still here? What’s up with that? Aren’t you supposed to just be a trick?”

“You said I was a trick. I never said that.”

“I know, but you fuck like a trick?” Cain asked, visibly confused.

“Certainly sounded that way to us,” Matt said as he and Eddie snickered, locking the door to their apartment and heading for the gate.

“Oh shut up!” Cain’s face was flushed as he shoved it into Henry’s chest, attempting to hide from the world.

Henry grinned, getting a bit embarrassed, as well. “I’ll go out on a limb and assume that fucking like a trick is a good thing?”

“It was good, like…
really
good,” Cain’s voice was muffled, “like the kind of good that only comes along once in a blue moon and usually by someone you’ll never see again.”

“Really?” Henry shrugged. “I was a little nervous, actually.”

“Seriously?” Cain now stared up at him in disbelief. “No, you’re just fucking with me, right? What you just did to me in there… I won’t be forgetting that for a very long time. If ever. Fuck, I really hope I don’t ever get Alzheimer’s. It would really suck forgetting that fuck.”

“You say fuck a lot,” Henry pointed out.

“So…that was…not your best?” Cain asked, ignoring Henry’s commentary over his use of language.

“Jesus, I hope not.”

“Oh god…me too,” Cain mumbled then realized he’d said it aloud.

Henry’s eyebrows arched upward. “I’ll take that to mean I’ll get another shot at proving myself correct.”

“If you just can’t seem to stop yourself, who am I to object.”

Henry kissed Cain, softly…slowly, only pulling away when he heard the music coming from Tony and Vito’s. “Every time I kiss you, I hear music.”

Cain sighed as the brothers both serenaded them and each other from inside their apartment.

“Living here can be…interesting,” Cain said.

Henry made an odd noise, signaling he approved either way, and kissed Cain again as the music swelled all around them. He wasn’t sure where any of this was heading, but damned if he gave a shit in that moment.

Chapter Four

Cain came down the stairs rubbing at his wrists, which were still a bit pink from where Henry had gripped them too hard. There was a rather large smile on his face as a result. As horrified as he’d been, knowing his tenants had listened to him having sex earlier that morning, it wasn’t enough to make him regret having had it. Henry had worked him over in the very best way possible. He was half hard now remembering it.

In Cain’s world, there were three classifications of fornication, the first being the regular, run-of-the-mill sex—the most common variety of suck and fuck. It was good. It was great. It was the foundation for happy gay men the world over. Then there was making love, which included all sorts of inside feelings, definitely a rare occurrence in his experience—a fact Cain hoped would change someday.

Finally, there was the down-and-dirty fucking, which was also accompanied by inner feelings but of an altogether different nature. This third classification was flesh searing and borderline depraved—not the kind of thing he could handle on a daily basis, but one that never failed to make him feel sexy for days after.

Cain had experienced this latter type earlier that morning.

Henry had ridden his ass hard, and he’d loved every last second of it.

Pausing for a moment, Cain sighed, thinking about Henry’s firm grip, fingers digging into his hip, the palm of his hand making repeated contact with his ass, teeth sinking into his neck and the twisting and pulling on his nipples and nuts.

“May not be able to sit down on hard surfaces for another day or two, but damn…”

He was a little embarrassed by the fact he liked it so much.

Cain hopped down the last few steps into the living room. His head cocked to the side as he noticed Henry loitering outside in the courtyard. It was just past dusk, and the little light left in the sky was rapidly fading into night. His back was turned to Cain, who stood there for several moments enjoying the view through the large picture window before stepping outside.

Henry turned, facing him after hearing the door open. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Cain laughed under his breath as he came down the steps and gave Henry a quick peck on the lips, while trying not to freak out over the fact he wasn’t freaking out. “What are doing out here, sir?”

Henry slipped his arms around Cain’s waist and returned the peck.

“Just taking it all in. This place has such an awesome feel, you know?” Rolling his eyes, Henry grinned. “Of course, you know that. You live here.”

They kissed again, taking a little more time to slowly explore one another with some tongue action.

“Oye! Get a room, mates!” A man called out in a thick accent, sounding like a butch Eliza Doolittle.

Much to Cain’s disappointment, Henry pulled away, now preoccupied with the last of his tenants, Pixie and Thrash. The couple walking by consisted of a younger, very cocky man in full strut mode, chomping away on his gum. Technically, he wasn’t a resident, though one would never know it considering he was here all the time. Dressed in a black leather vest and too-tight white-leather pants, he carried a guitar case in one hand. His hair had been sculpted up into a severe black faux-hawk with dark purple tips.

“Shut up, asshole. I think it’s fucking hawt!” the young lady walking with him said, carrying a smaller case that held her drum sticks.

“Have a good night, Pixie,” Cain said, hoping she caught the disapproval written all over his face.

She giggled, making him believe it hadn’t bothered her if she had.

They were both too thin, pierced and tattooed up one side and down the other, and Pixie was dressed in a plaid, Catholic schoolgirl mini and a painted-on halter tee, likely of her own design.

“You think everything’s hot, you dirty little nymph,” Thrash said, shoving his hand up her skirt as she squealed in delight.

As if on cue, the timer switched over and all the lights in the courtyard came to life.

“Showtime!” Thrash yelled, chasing Pixie toward the gate while scream-singing.

“They’re in a band,” Cain said.

Henry’s eyebrows arched upward. “You have a very eclectic mix living here.”

“They’re harmless,” Cain informed him. “Her real name is Stacey, and she’s from Carbondale, Illinois, and Tim isn’t even British. I made him give me a copy of his driver’s license when it became clear he was becoming an unofficial renter. He’s from friggin’ Nebraska, for crying out loud.”

“Does Pixie know this about Thrash?” Henry asked, not seeming fond of perpetuating the lie.

“I have no idea, but from the sound of her orgasms at three and four in the morning, I’m guessing she wouldn’t give a shit either way.”

Henry stood there, staring into Cain’s eyes for a moment, as if he were trying to come to some sort of conclusion about the man in his arms.

Ella Fitzgerald began playing softly from the Scalia brother’s apartment, and they heard one yelling at the other, “Turn it up, you moron. They can probably barely hear it!”

They both laughed, but Henry adapted quickly, beginning to slow dance with Cain in his arms. It wasn’t lost on Cain that the song happened to be
Making Whoopie
.

“What’s the story with those two?” Henry asked.

“Vito’s the oldest, lived here for like fifteen years, moved in sometime after his wife died in a plane crash of all things. I think initially he did so in an attempt to woo my grandma, Gladys, not that it did him any good. Tony came about four years ago, after his wife passed away from breast cancer.”

“Sad stuff,” Henry said.

“I don’t think Ella’s doing the trick. They’re still just talking.” Vito said, sounding frustrated.

“You think homos prefer a male
singer
, too?” Tony asked.

“Are they for real?” Henry asked.

“You’ll have to forgive them.” Cain sighed, resting his chin in the divot of Henry’s chest as he looked up at the man. “My grandmother made them promise to look after me before she passed away, which to them means finding me a husband, so you’ve been warned.”

“When did she pass?” Henry asked, apparently skipping right over the whole husband landmine.

“Almost two years now.” Cain found it difficult to believe as he still felt her presence all around him. “She left La Terraza in my very ill-equipped hands.”

Henry appeared to have noted the tone of disappointment in Cain’s voice but apparently decided to let it go for the time being, giving him a soft kiss instead—a way better salve for his wounds than any words might have been.

“What about your parents?” Henry asked

“My parents live across town in the same tiny ranch I grew up in, next door to my mother’s sister.” Cain smiled. “They would just love you.”

Henry grinned, moving Cain around in a circle and keeping time with the music. “I usually do well with parents.”

“Certainly not a hard sell, buddy.” Cain laughed, stumbling over Henry’s feet. “Sorry, kinda clumsy.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my mother would chew you up,” Henry commented, humming off key under his breath.

“That a good thing or a bad one?” Cain asked.

“Definitely good. She’d find you absolutely adorable.” Henry let go with one hand, spinning Cain in a circle before reeling him back into his arms. “Cute as a box of puppies, she’d probably say.”

“And your dad?” Cain asked, grinning over the implied compliment.