Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  “God,” Joel said, fingertip exerting gentle pressure in intimate places. “You like this, huh?”

  “Yeah.” A breathy sound, half frustration half desire. He was so close. He thrust harder against Joel’s belly and the slick edge of his hipbone. So damn close. “More. Joel, I need more. I—”

  “I’ve got you,” Joel said, lips brushing his ear. “Come here…” He shifted, and Ollie grunted in dismay at the loss of contact until he felt Joel’s strong fingers wrap around his cock, warm and slick and perfect. Ollie thrust into his grip while Joel’s other hand explored his ass with tender, intimate expertise and it took all of thirty seconds before Ollie’s orgasm ignited. It felt like an explosion, all over and all at once. No graceful arc of pleasure this, but a startling detonation. He arched back, crying out as his mind blanked, turning white and soundless, and then he fell back into the world, into Joel’s waiting arms, and a warm ocean of joyful release and relief.

  They drowsed together for some time afterward.

  At one point, Joel moved, disentangled himself from Ollie’s arms, and got up. Sometime later, Ollie felt the wet warmth of a washcloth swiping across his belly and groin and muttered a smiling, sex-drunk protest. Then came more quiet. Then the light went out, the bed dipped, and a heavy arm settled around his waist.

  Sated and happy, Ollie slept.

  ∞∞∞

  As usual, Joel woke with the dawn.

  Not as usual, he woke with Ollie Snow asleep in his bed.

  Joel kept the slats of his blinds angled so that the morning sun flooded into the bedroom, acting as a natural alarm clock. But this morning, he didn’t head out for his usual run. Instead, he lay there, caught somewhere between wonder and alarm, and watched the steady rise and fall of Ollie’s shoulders. He lay half on his stomach, only one closed eye visible where his face smooshed into the pillow—one of Joel’s pillows—curls tumbling over his forehead and the soft white pillowcase.

  Even now, hours later, Joel still felt the thrum of last night’s pleasure. Perhaps his long abstinence explained it, but the electric thrill he’d felt when Ollie touched him, at the mere sight of Ollie’s beautiful body—beautiful male body, beautiful aroused male body—had been nothing he’d felt in years. Or ever.

  Had he ever felt so sexually alive as he had last night? If so, he couldn’t remember when. And that made him wonder, because he didn’t think he’d forget last night for as long as he lived. Christ, but he’d felt crazed with desire, as if every nerve had been firing—the feel of Ollie’s hands, his hard, taut body. His mouth. And the sight of him, looking up from beneath those absurdly lovely lashes, lips stretched around Joel’s cock, curly hair spilling into his eyes…

  He’d never seen anything so arousing. Never felt so aroused.

  What did it mean, that he’d felt like that? Did it mean anything at all? Maybe he was over thinking? Maybe he was—

  “Morning.”

  Ollie’s one eye had opened, half a smile emerging from the pillow. His voice was deep and scratchy, matching the dark stubble on his jaw. Joel’s insides gave a peculiar leap. “Morning,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a log.”

  Joel smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Gotta love those sweet, sweet endorphins.”

  Maybe that was it: maybe chemistry explained last night’s sexual high. And the distinctly gooey sensation in his heart this morning. Endorphins.

  Ollie rolled onto his back, blinking up at the sun-striped ceiling. “This is a luxury,” he said, smiling. “Luis is always up before six.”

  “You want to sleep more?”

  “No.” He turned his head, invitation in his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I want to get up, though…”

  And, boom, there went the hormones again. They reached for each other, all sleepy warmth and tender touches as they kissed and rocked together in a breathless race to another bone-tingling finish, Joel coming with his face tucked into Ollie’s shoulder and the sound of Ollie’s gasping release loud in his ear. Afterward, they lingered a little longer, until Joel’s stomach growled, and Ollie giggled, tickling Joel’s belly and teasing until they were both breathless with laughter.

  Then they showered together, kissing languidly beneath the water—and, God, Ollie was beautiful in the morning light, wet hair pushed back from his face, dark lashes clumped together and brown eyes twinkling.

  Joel left him to dress and headed downstairs to make breakfast, emotions skipping along that line between excitement and anxiety. Wonderful, it was all wonderful. And could end at any moment. He needed to remember that, to hold back those parts of himself so eager to rush forward.

  Don’t fall, he warned himself. Don’t let yourself fall.

  Ollie didn’t make it easy, not when he padded into the kitchen barefoot in his dark jeans and soft green sweater, damp hair curling around his ears. “Your house is beautiful,” he said, accepting the mug of coffee Joel handed him. “Can you see the ocean from upstairs?”

  “Just about. You can certainly hear it.” He nodded through the picture window to the neglected yard. “Next summer, I’m planning to sort that out. I’ve been focusing on the house so far, but I think it’s time I tackled the yard.”

  Ollie perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Did you do all the work yourself?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled out a saucepan, feeling self-conscious as he said, “Therapy, I guess. When— After Helen left, everything kinda fell apart. Putting this place back together has been quite the project, but it’s helped me put myself back together too.”

  “Nice metaphor.”

  Joel smiled. “Teacher.”

  “I’d have enjoyed school a whole lot better if I’d had teachers like you,” Ollie said, grinning over his mug. And for a moment they just smiled at each other and Joel felt something straining in his chest, a green shoot yearning toward the sun. He wondered if Ollie felt it too; the softness in his eyes gave him hope. Dangerous, terrifying hope.

  He looked away, clearing his throat. “Uh, I usually have oatmeal for breakfast. But I’ve got eggs and toast if you—”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  “I’m probably having oatmeal.” He always had oatmeal, part of his routine.

  “Okay. It’s healthy.”

  “It’s— I have a special recipe, actually. It’s good.”

  Ollie’s eyes smiled. “Yeah? Show me.”

  So he did. Oatmeal made with fat-free milk, half a banana, cinnamon and a spoonful of honey, simmered on the stove for five minutes, then topped with the rest of the banana, a dollop of Greek yogurt, blueberries, toasted almonds and another drizzle of honey. Delicious.

  Ollie looked impressed when Joel set two bowls on the dining table next to the window and topped up their coffees. “This actually looks amazing,” he said. “Like something you’d get in a restaurant. You eat this all the time?”

  “Every day.” He rubbed his neck self-consciously. “I’m, uh, quite the creature of habit I’m afraid.”

  Ollie took a tentative bite, seemed to like it and dug in. “Good,” he pronounced, nodding to himself. “I could definitely get used to this.”

  Joel’s heart did a little back flip. I could get used to this, too, it seemed to say as he watched Ollie eat. All too easily.

  When Ollie had scraped his bowl clean, he sat back in his chair and cupped his hands around his coffee. “Uh, listen,” he said, sounding awkward. A hot flash of heat overcame Joel, sharp with anxiety. This was it. Of course it was. This was the ‘it’s been nice but…’ moment. He braced himself. Ollie said, “I don’t want to hold you up if you have plans today, so, you know, just let me know…”

  “I… no. No plans.” He cleared his throat. “But if you do…?”

  Ollie shook his head, lips curling into a cautious smile. “You want to hang out?”

  God, yes. So much. He glanced back out the window to the crisp blue morning. “I often go for a bike ride at the weekend,” he said. �
��You mentioned before that you used to ride?”

  “I did.” A pause. “I don’t have a bike anymore.”

  “Want to borrow one of mine? I’ve got a hybrid and a mountain bike. We’re about the same height, right?”

  Ollie’s eyes lit up. “Sure. I’m five eleven in heels, and you’re, what? Six foot. I could easily ride one of your bikes.”

  “You want to? There’s a sweet trail out past the old lighthouse and down to Whitman Beach. It’s pretty packed in the summer, but this time of year we’d have it mostly to ourselves. Especially if we leave early.”

  Ollie downed the rest of his coffee. “I’m ready, but can we swing past my apartment so I can pick up a change of clothes?” He plucked at his wool sweater. “This was not made for exercising.”

  An hour later, they were heading out. Since the trail was pretty level, and only a few miles long, Joel didn’t bother with all his cycling gear—just wore jeans and a cycling jersey, and his gloves and helmet. Ollie was similarly dressed and borrowing Joel’s spare helmet as well as his mountain bike. He looked good as he cycled slow circles around the empty parking lot at the head of the trail, adjusting his sunglasses and testing out the gears and breaks. Frankly, Ollie looked good in anything.

  And nothing at all.

  Joel pushed that stray thought away and squinted toward the trail. It ran along the coastline and out to the old lighthouse building. The light itself hadn’t worked for years, decades probably, but people still enjoyed hiking or biking out there, to the small semi-private beach at the end of the trail. In the summer it could be busy, but a brisk November morning was a different story entirely. There was nobody around and the only sound was the blustery wind in his ears, the roar of the surf, and the occasional cry of a seagull swooping high in the sky.

  They’d driven up, bikes on the back of Joel’s car, but could easily have ridden if they hadn’t needed to stop at Ollie’s on the way. He often cycled here from home. “Ready?” he called.

  Ollie came over, his cheeks flushed from the chill. “I’ll follow you.”

  The trail was well maintained, and quiet this morning. The land sloped down into boulders on their right, a rocky shore with no beach, and beyond that lay the Sound and Connecticut. On a clear day—and this was a crystal-clear day—the view was spectacular. Joel kept his gaze flitting between the trail and the ocean, and after they’d been riding a few minutes he slowed and stopped, Ollie pulling up beside him. “Look,” Joel said, pointing. “Just beyond those rocks—a couple of seals in the water.”

  “No way, really?” Ollie looked and exclaimed when a little brown head popped up and disappeared beneath the water. “I see it! There’s two of them. Oh, look, he’s sunbathing. That’s adorable.”

  And that was it, that was the moment. Gazing at Ollie’s smiling expression as he watched the seal float on its back, flippers in the air, Joel’s heart started drumming in a new rhythm, keeping time with another’s beat.

  “There are a couple beaches around here where they come on shore,” Joel said, sounding surprisingly normal. “You should take the kids—they have free tours.”

  “Yeah? Rory would love that. He loves animals.” Ollie adjusted his sunglasses. “Maybe you could come with us or…or something.” Struck silent by the image of a family outing with Ollie and his boys, Joel just stared. The prospect was breathtakingly perfect. It was everything he wanted, and therefore terrifying. Ollie laughed nervously. “Although, I guess you have enough of kids at school so the last thing you’d want to do—”

  “I’d love to,” Joel blurted. “I’d love to go with you and the boys.”

  Ollie’s smile relaxed. “It would be great to have the company.”

  “That’s a date then.”

  “Another one.” Ollie nudged Joel’s arm. “Getting to be a habit.”

  Joel watched him, pink-cheeked and smiling. “Yeah,” he said, with more honesty than was wise, “I guess you are.”

  Ollie grinned, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, their cycle helmets clashing. Joel felt that kiss all over his body, like a static shock making every hair stand on end. Not just the warm lips on a cold day, or the frisson of sexual excitement, but the fact that Ollie had kissed him here—outside, where people could have seen. It excited and terrified him, leaving him mute.

  “Lead on,” Ollie said, settling back in his saddle. “It’s getting cold.”

  Joel led on, what else could he do? There was no going back now.

  As the trail broadened, they came to ride side-by-side and since it was flat and paved they had breath enough to talk as they rode. Joel heard a little more about Jules, Ollie’s sister, and their mom who’d made a career for herself with the USAF audit office. “Good pension,” Ollie said. “When she retires, she’ll really be able to enjoy it.”

  Joel smiled at that good sense coming from a face that, in this fresh morning light, looked even younger than its twenty-four years. “What about your dad?” He didn’t recall Ollie ever mentioning him.

  “Wasn’t around. He left before I was born. He, ah—” He cleared his throat. “Something of a rolling stone, I guess. Who knows how many wild oats he sowed?”

  “Really?”

  Ollie shrugged. “Apparently.”

  Joel’s own upbringing had been so staid and ordinary he couldn’t imagine living with that kind of uncertainty, not even knowing your own father. “Do you know his name?”

  “I, um— Oh, hey, is that the lighthouse up there already? Cool.”

  Sure enough, the lighthouse was looming in the distance, it’s white paint peeling but the gray blocky building with its squat octagonal tower still appealing in the sunlight. “That’s it,” Joel said, aware that Ollie had changed the subject but happy to let it go. However casual he might sound, it was clear the matter of his father was sensitive. Obviously, it would be sensitive. And Joel had no intention of prying. “You can’t go inside, but it makes a nice photo.”

  “Bet the views would be great from the top.”

  “You’d probably be taking your life in your hands.”

  They cycled on, the day warming enough that Joel undid the zipper on his jersey. Up ahead, there seemed to be activity at the lighthouse, which was unusual. And a little disappointing; he’d hoped for some splendid isolation. But no, there was a truck there and a couple of guys walking around the building: one in a suit, the other more appropriately dressed in jeans and boots.

  “Looks like someone’s going inside,” Ollie said as they freewheeled along the track.

  Joel lifted his hand to wave as they passed and got an answering wave from the guy in boots and a brief glimpse of a handsome face and dark glasses. The truck had the National Park Service logo on the side. “Maybe the park service is taking it over? Would be great if they could restore it, huh?”

  “Very cool,” Ollie agreed with a smile. “It’s a beautiful building.” They’d reached the end of the spit of land and Ollie climbed off his bike and stretched his legs. “Man, I’m out of shape.”

  “Look pretty good from where I’m standing.”

  Ollie laughed and pulled off his cycle helmet, running a hand through his damp, tangled hair. Joel glanced back toward the lighthouse, but the two guys had disappeared around the other side of the building, so he took the opportunity to push a few stray curls out of Ollie’s eyes. He wanted to tell him how much he loved his hair, the wild tumble of it, but that would be silly and sappy and premature. So he just smiled. “This is fun,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “It’s beautiful out here.” Ollie pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, squinting in the bright light. “Thanks for bringing me, it feels like a vacation.”

  “For me too.” And since when had he needed a vacation from his new low-stress life?

  At the seaward side of the lighthouse, the trail ended with a decrepit old wooden bench facing out to sea. In the summer, Joel had sat there and lost himself in the view. But today, despite the sun,
it was too cold to stop for long. Even so, they leaned their bikes up against the bench and walked across the scrubby grass to where the low cliff turned into boulders that tumbled down to a stony beach. The tide was in, waves frothing and hissing through the rocks. “You can climb down onto the shore when the tide’s out,” he said.

  “Nice place for a picnic in the summer.”

  “It would be.” They shared a smile and Ollie laughed, pink and self-conscious as he turned to look back out to sea. Those curls Joel was so obsessed with fluttered back from his face in the sharp breeze, and Joel felt an almost irresistible urge to stand behind him, wrap him in his arms and pull him back against his chest. But resist it he did. This thing—relationship; whatever you wanted to call it—was barely a week old and Joel was not intending to come out to the whole town on the strength of one week.

  Ollie rubbed his arms. “Getting cool,” he said.

  “Yup. Want to head back and grab some lunch?” He considered that Ollie might not have the budget to eat out, so added, “I have fixings for sandwiches at home if you like?”

  Ollie made a play of faux concern. “But what will we find to do at your place all afternoon?”

  “I have Scrabble…”

  The momentary flash of dismay on Ollie’s face made Joel laugh out loud.

  ∞∞∞

  Low afternoon sunlight slid through the blinds from the opposite direction in the afternoon, painting golden stripes across the rumpled bed sheets. Joel shoved a couple of pillows behind his back and sat up against the headboard. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ollie, all bare skin and unconquered curls, cock bobbing hard and hefty from a thatch of dark hair. Hell, he was gorgeous.

  “Come here,” Joel said in a throaty growl that didn’t sound like his voice.

  Ollie smiled slowly as he crawled across Joel’s huge bed. It had felt like an unwarranted luxury, buying a bed this size just for one person. Now he wondered whether he’d somehow bought it for this very purpose, to see Ollie prowl across it like a panther, looking up at him through those amazing lashes with a predatory grin that made Joel’s insides swoop. As soon as Ollie was close enough to touch, Joel reached for him, tangling his fingers into his hair and hauling him into his arms so he could kiss that gorgeous mouth.