Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  Chuck slid his finger into his mouth, never removing the wet heat from Jesse’s dick, then pushed his warm finger in all the way. Jesse thrust back into the finger and up into Chuck’s mouth, chasing both sensations. But it was the feral glint in Chuck’s hazel eyes that sent Jesse careening over the edge.

  “Fuck,” he ground out and yanked Chuck’s head down as he thrust up, spilling down his throat, his release coming in harsh waves that racked his body off the bed and Chuck had to grip Jesse’s thighs to swallow his cum.

  Chuck pulled his mouth off when Jesse softened, then slapped Jesse’s thigh with a thud that rang in Jesse’s head, thick from a hangover and coming so hard. He slumped back onto the bed.

  The mattress dipped as Chuck got up. “I’m not going to give you time to get all weird on me. Get the fuck out of bed. We’re getting breakfast and Bloody Mary’s at McLoughlin’s.”

  Jesse groaned in protest and pulled the pillow over his head to hide his grin.

  Chuck didn’t know it, but Jesse wasn’t going to get weird about waking up in bed with him. He didn’t want to. He didn’t regret one thing that had happened last night.

  Okay, maybe he regretted that he’d drank enough to leave his head throbbing and his back aching like someone had kneed him in the kidneys, but definitely nothing that had happened with Chuck.

  “Come on, Beast,” Chuck prodded. “It’s time for hair of the dog. I’ve got a flight back to New York tonight and if I’m going to survive takeoff then my stomach needs to stop rolling.”

  Jesse removed the pillow, scrubbed at his eyes, and studied Chuck. “I thought you lived in Kensington.”

  “I do. In a way. I’m in the process of switching home offices.”

  Jesse wanted to ask if Chuck would be coming back anytime soon, but he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding like every other doe-eyed lollipop he’d brought home, banged, then practically pushed out his front door.

  He flopped his legs over the side of the bed and grunted when his vision swam out of focus. Chuck threw a pair of boxers at his head then doubled over in laughter when they landed half across Jesse’s face. Jesse peeked out at him and glared.

  “Up, lazy ass,” Chuck ordered. “Laying in bed only makes a hangover worse. Greasy food, coffee, and some vodka then you’ll be smiling again.”

  Jesse pulled the boxers off his head and slipped them on. He was awake enough that, this time, when Chuck whipped a pair of jeans at him, he caught them before they toppled him over. He yanked one of his worn-out college sweatshirts over his head and stood. “I’m up, asshole. Feed me. Now.”

  Chuck opened the blinds with one decisive swish. “It’s a beautiful fall day. The air will do me good.” He poked at Jesse’s stomach. “And a walk would do us both good.”

  Jesse frowned in a show of hurt. “I thought you liked my belly.”

  “I love it. Not going to lie. I can also imagine what that chest looks like when you’re ripped.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “But it would probably only take you a few months to knock off fifty pounds and turn this into solid muscle, wouldn’t it?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “How’d you know that?”

  Chuck shrugged. “You just look like one of those guys. Come on. I’m starving.”

  They walked the five blocks to McLoughlin’s in relative silence. Cars rushed by on the cut-through to the highway, and fallen leaves brushed past them, crunching under their feet. Chuck had his hands jammed into his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward against the cold. He wore his baseball hat again, still backward, and Jesse had an overwhelming urge to lean over and suck on Chuck’s neck. Damn, the man tasted good.

  McLoughlin’s was just as busy for breakfast as it was at midnight. They got the last open table and settled into the booth by the windows. The waitress didn’t have to ask for Jesse’s order, he spent way too much time and money here. Chuck held a sugar packet by the edge, slapping it against the table as he stared out the window. Jesse wanted to ask what he was thinking, because his own thoughts were spiraling way out of control. The easy banter of last night was gone, but he wasn’t uncomfortable either.

  Luckily their food came quickly, most of the table taken up with the multiple plates from Jesse’s order. “Sollie happy now,” he joked as he shoveled food into his mouth.

  That seemed to break whatever reverie Chuck had been in. He snickered, and, just like that, they were back to the ease of last night. “So tell me about your family. You have any brothers or sisters?”

  “A half-brother and half-sister,” he answered around a bite of hash browns drenched in ketchup. “Both older.”

  Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re the baby?”

  “Yet the biggest one. My dad’s side of the family is East Polynesian, mainly from New Zealand. We have the same mom, but you’d never know we share any DNA. They’re just as tiny, blonde-haired, and white as our mom and their dad.”

  “Is he still in the picture? Their dad?”

  “Dead. Long time ago. He was a piece of shit.”

  “To them, not you, I’m guessing.”

  “Yeah, my mom left him not long after having my sister. He kept the kids. She got remarried, had me.”

  “You close to them?”

  “Not to my brother. He left Kensington and never looked back. My sister and I…. We’ve had our ups and downs. She’s had a hard life.”

  Chuck froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “There’s a story there.”

  Jesse chuffed. “A very long one. She’s been in and out of rehab for years, but she’s clean now. Got married really young to escape her dad. Her husband’s even more abusive than her dad was, and Emily…. We may not look alike, but we’re both stubborn. I’ve come to accept there’s only so much I can do for her besides tell her that I love her and she always has a place with me.”

  “But you keep trying.”

  Jesse grunted. This topic was a touchy one. And with his hangover still pounding away on his brain cells, the anger he carried for his sister didn’t take long to surface.

  “She have any kids?”

  “No. Wasn’t able—” Jesse cringed. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let that slip out—he was getting way too comfortable with Chuck and forgetting there were boundaries. The sexual abuse Emily had endured at the hands of her father was something that only a few of the Kensington boys even knew about.

  But Chuck didn’t press for more information, nodding instead as if he understood.

  “She’s had a hard life,” Jesse repeated.

  Chuck pushed his emptied plate to the end of the table. “People can be really evil to one another.”

  From the resigned look in Chuck’s eyes, he knew that cruelty wasn’t foreign. The realization made his stomach twist. “There’s a story there.”

  “For another time,” Chuck answered. He finished off the rest of his Bloody Mary and picked up his phone, glancing at the time. “I have to get back to my place so I can pack. You want a ride back to your house?”

  “Nah. I’m good.” Jesse downed the dregs of his coffee and draped an arm over the back of the booth. “How long you gone for?”

  “What? You want to see me again?”

  “Maybe.” Definitely.

  “About three weeks, depending on how fast I can work. Give me your phone.”

  Jesse lifted an eyebrow but entered the passcode and slid it over to Chuck.

  “The factory stock background? Really, Jesse?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Can’t offend anyone with that.”

  Chuck shook his head and tapped on Jesse’s screen. A split-second later Chuck’s cell pinged. Chuck moved over to his own phone and typed something out, pushing Jesse’s cell back toward him at the same time.

  Just as Jesse picked it up, a text popped up in a new thread with a number that wasn’t in his contacts—Kiss my ass, Beast

  Jesse smirked.

  Chuck sat back, waving a hand across the
table. “There. You have my digits and I have yours. Call me, maybe?”

  “You didn’t.”

  That one dimple was in full effect when Chuck smiled this time. “I did. Gay, remember? Now walk me to my truck.”

  Chuck swiped the bill before Jesse could and went up to pay instead of waiting for the server.

  Jesse hesitated at the side of Chuck’s truck, wondering whether Chuck would try to kiss him, but Chuck just threw a lop-sided grin at him and said, “I’ll see you.” Then he opened his door, settled in, and drove off with one last wave as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  Jesse stood there, stunned.

  Chuck had just given him the same brush-off that he’d given to more girls than he wanted to count.

  Shit. This was what that felt like?

  Call me, maybe?

  Fuck it. No better time than the present. Jesse dug in his pocket for his phone. He saved the number from his text thread and hit the button to call. Chuck picked up on the first ring. “Miss me already?”

  Jesse could picture Chuck driving, his phone cradled to his ear, that sideways grin plastered to his face. “Three weeks, huh?”

  “Yeah. Give or take.”

  He wanted to say, text me when your flight lands. But how fucking needy was that? Instead, he said, “Just making sure you didn’t give me a fake number.”

  “I’m not into games, Jesse. I’ll text you when I get into New York. Call me when you have time.”

  “Okay,” he replied, surprised at the relief that was evident in his voice.

  Three weeks.

  His cock ached at the thought, but his chest hurt even worse.

  It had only taken one night for Chuck to burrow under his skin.

  Fuck.

  This was not how he’d expected the night to end at all.

  3

  November

  Two weeks.

  Chuck only had two more weeks to go and he’d be back in Kensington. He was sure time hadn’t just slowed to a crawl but had stopped just to spite him.

  “Tell me more about the Kensington boys,” he mumbled into his cell phone to Jesse. It had been one week since leaving Jesse in the parking lot of McLoughlin’s and they’d talked every day since.

  “What about them?”

  Chuck tried to place the room service tray on his bed without tipping over his beer. He could hear Jesse chewing on the other end of the line, another meal shared together even though they were hundreds of miles away.

  “I don’t know. Everything.” I’m just not ready to hang up, he left unsaid.

  Jesse hummed in the receiver. “Well, you know Kam….”

  Chuck listened with half an ear, paying more attention to the delicious rumble of Jesse’s voice than his words. The man could talk about software sales for hours and Chuck would be mesmerized.

  “Wait. Stop. What did you just say?” Chuck interrupted, breaking out of his thoughts.

  “About Brittany?”

  “No, something about the wives?”

  Jesse snickered. “Yeah, the Kensington wives.”

  “That’s what you call them?”

  “That’s what they call themselves. Most of them aren’t from Kensington, but they all married Kensington boys and moved to the area. They’re a tight group. To be fair we all tend to be.”

  “Tight?” he drawled, putting emphasis on the sexual innuendo.

  Jesse huffed. “Not like that. But yes. We’re a tight group. Protective of each other. But that’s just a nice way of saying we can be asshole-level exclusionary at times.”

  “For example…?”

  “If we’re at a party with people outside of the Kensington circle we’ll all congregate in one area and blatantly ignore people who try to break into our conversation. The wives can be vicious in their ability to look completely unapproachable.”

  “And this is okay to you?”

  “Hey, didn’t I say it was assholish? We all get it. But what other friends do we really need? There’s history there and loyalty that’s been earned. The wives have to put up with our shit, and the boys are lucky to have found any women who are willing to keep them around. You realize it’s been almost ten years since the first of us got married and no one is divorced yet? None of them. They all have their issues, but the wives talk and commiserate, the boys go drinking, the kids get together and play, and that’s it. Life continues. Good times, bad times, the one constant in my life outside my family is these people.”

  Chuck took that all in. He didn’t have any friends left from high school, let alone when he was a kid. He figured there weren’t many of them he’d want to be friends with anymore. “Are you out to any of them?”

  “Out with what?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. You know what I’m asking.”

  Jesse hesitated. “I don’t know if I am gay.”

  “Fine. Bisexual?”

  Jesse snorted. “That shit isn’t real.”

  Chuck resisted the sudden urge to slam his phone into the hotel wall. Watching it shatter to pieces would be so satisfying. “Then what the fuck is this, Jesse?”

  Chuck’s question was met with an awkward silence.

  “I thought we were having fun,” Jesse finally answered.

  Chuck was quiet for a long time before he replied. Seven days they’d been talking. Learning things about each other. Realizing that they had more in common than not. Jesus Christ, he’d fucked the guy already and Jesse was still questioning if he even liked guys?

  “I can’t see your face right now,” Chuck gritted out. “I don’t know whether you’re bullshitting me, or just trying to start an argument. But if after what we’ve done together you’re not sure if you really like guys, then….”

  “Then what?” Jesse said quietly.

  “I don’t know!” he yelled and slammed the lid from his dinner to the flower-patterned carpet. “I don’t go out proclaiming I’m gay, but I don’t hide it either.”

  “Jesus. Calm down, Chuck,” Jesse said coolly.

  Way too coolly.

  “Fuck you,” Chuck said and hung up.

  “So, how’s business outside the mag?” Linda asked.

  The question was innocent enough, but with Jesse’s words still ricocheting in his brain and shredding his gray matter, Chuck couldn’t seem to find an articulate response.

  “Good,” he replied, then took another drink from his champagne flute.

  Champagne. Seriously? It was a charity event hosted by a fucking football player and they couldn’t find one keg of beer to tap in all of New York City?

  Linda grabbed him by the arm and, with a clipped apology, dragged him away from the group of former colleagues they were standing with. She got in his face as soon as they were out of earshot. “What the fuck, Charles? You’ve been a prick all night.”

  Chuck glared at her. She knew him better than any of his other former co-workers but he wouldn’t have called her a friend either. He’d been meticulous about not collecting friends when he’d lived in New York—it was inadvisable in his past line of work.

  “Business is stellar, Linda,” he replied, matching her scowl.

  “So, I repeat. Why are you being such an emotionless…feck?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Feck?”

  Pinpoints of red spread across her cheeks. “Feck you. We worked together for four years and it was my ass that went out on the line for you when you refused to deliver those photos.”

  “What photos?” he said. His stomach twisted at the thought of his last assignment, but there was no way he would allow Linda to get to him using that.

  “We’re going to play this game, huh? I have a lot of connections in this town. Connections that could help you in your ‘solo’ projects.” She punctuated the word with air quotes, and Chuck had the mad urge to snap her fingers off. “Or connections that could keep you from ever working in this town again. I thought you were one of the good ones.”

  Chuck narrowed his eyes. “Likewise.”

/>   He didn’t need Linda, her connections, or any of the self-serving over-bloated assholes that filled the room. They were the exact reason he’d left his job and moved home. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea?

  Linda flicked her bleached blonde extensions over her shoulder as she clomped off in shoes that could’ve bought this party a tower of kegs. What a fucking waste.

  He downed the rest of his champagne, grimacing at the sickly-sweet taste, and headed for the coat check. If he was going to be an emotionless feck, at least he could do it in the comfort of his hotel bar. With beer.

  “The devil finding ways to occupy those idle hands?” an eastern European voice called out from behind him.

  “Only on beautiful cocks, Stefan.”

  He turned toward the squat, balding older man behind him, who also happened to be his ex-boyfriend’s father. Unfortunately for that relationship, he’d always gotten along better with Stefan than his ex. “Linda was just giving me a soliloquy on the virtues of interconnectedness. It was enlightening.”

  Stefan pumped Chuck’s hand with an iron grip. “What made you decide to show up here tonight?”

  “Insanity.”

  “Clearly.” Stefan’s yellowing eyes glistened with humor. “So how is business?”

  “Fantastic.”

  “I would have expected no less. Have you found your passion again?”

  “I’m getting there. I’ve been working with a boxing club for at-risk teenagers. I have a couple meetings in town to push a documentary about them and seek out more funding. They’re great kids. Fighting has always been a part of their lives, but now they’re learning how to channel it. It’s inspiring.”

  “You would understand them better than most.”

  “I can’t empathize with where they’ve come from, but I understand their anger.” Chuck slid his hands into his pockets and leaned forward. “You know they have a one hundred percent college attendance record of graduates from the program?”

  Stefan lifted an eyebrow. “Are you trying to sell me?”

  “There are worse investments you could make.” Chuck scanned Stefan’s tux. “The cost of that could put ten of them through the program for a year.”