“Artists can chew up whatever they want for their art. It’s fine. Con wants to be a big star. He wants to get people talking about the mystery woman in his past who hurt him.” He hugged himself. “Man, what a conflict he must have right now! I’m, like, halfway famous because of the podcast, but he can’t tell anyone about me, because he’s in the closet. That must be torture. I bet that’s really why he’s mad.” He brooded, his eyes drinking in Oberon’s naked body as he did so. Oberon had delicious little dimples at the top of his ass on either side of his spine, and deep curved creases where his buttocks met his thighs.

“And why are you really mad? Because he’s in the closet?”

“No, I—I never wanted to make him come out. Everyone does that when they can, if they can. Country music is not very gay friendly. I got that.” Ángel rubbed a hand over his face, ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I thought we were still friends. Oh, kind of. Friendly. I didn’t think he’d take to the airwaves to call me a slut.”

Oberon rolled over onto his side in a graceful sprawl, dropping the tablet onto the floor and taking up most of the king-size bed. His cock lay against his thigh. Ángel scooted away from him, maintaining his small separation.

They sat together in the dim, quiet room for a while. Then, “A slut is a person who is indiscriminate with sexual partners?” clarified Oberon.

“Or who just has to have it. Like you said. Quick to come, quick to come back for more.”

“That was not an insult, Ángel.”

“You didn’t mean it as one.” Ángel quirked a smile at him. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t either. It feels like he did.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the room dark and warm, the bed a mess of crumpled sheets. The rosettes bloomed like flowers on Oberon’s skin, and his cock began to grow.

“You are . . . very far away, Ángel.”

Ángel launched himself across the bed and tackled him. He tried to pin him down but Oberon was far stronger, heaving him up and tossing him onto the mattress. They wrestled across the bed, ending up with Ángel on his stomach with his hair in his eyes, laughing, Oberon on top of him. Oberon purred and combed Ángel’s hair out of his face, nestling his cock against Ángel’s ass; Ángel’s was hard as a tire iron against the sheets. True to his nature, ready for more.