Jesse let go of Chuck’s ass and extracted Chuck’s hand from his balls. “I’ll come too fast if you do that. Just let me fuck you like this.”
Chuck’s head fell back to the wall and he settled his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse’s grip was tight, on the edge of uncomfortable. Chuck had gone from freezing to sweating in minutes, and his body was screaming for rest and release, every nerve ending taxed out, aching for a respite.
Jesse licked from Chuck’s shoulder, up his neck, and around his ear, then threw his head back, his mouth wide and eyes clamped shut. His muscles rippled under Chuck’s fingers and sweat and beads of water ran down his forehead and chest. Chuck lifted his hand and put his thumb into Jesse’s mouth, running it across his teeth and over his bottom lip. Jesse opened his eyes as he sucked Chuck’s thumb into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the tip.
Jesse’s eyes were fevered, more intense than Chuck had ever seen them. As if Jesse was truly desperate.
For as dirty, unplanned, and logistically awkward as this was, there was a depth of emotion in Jesse’s stare and in his hands as they protected Chuck and pulled him closer to the edge.
“Kiss me, Chuck.”
The sincerity and need in Jesse’s tone sent a shiver up Chuck’s spine.
Chuck sucked in one ragged breath, then Jesse’s lips were on his. Jesse’s tongue slid past his lips, the kiss deepening, spiraling, forcing him to move with Jesse. Forcing him to hand over control, to empty his desires and needs into the intimate twist of their mouths as they breathed together, feeding off the unhinged intensity of the other. Chuck lost himself in the kiss, in the press of their bodies, and Jesse’s unrelenting hands and tongue.
Only this. All he ever wanted was this.
The thought struck like the spray of the hose and Chuck snapped back, separated, and gasped for breath.
Jesse’s forehead had already fallen to Chuck’s shoulder, unaware of the emotional shock coursing through Chuck. “I’m close, are you?” he rasped.
Chuck nodded against Jesse’s head. He could’ve shot off minutes ago, but he’d been holding back, getting too much satisfaction from the way Jesse was stripped raw and completely vulnerable—more real in this second, truer to himself, than he might ever be with anyone else.
Chuck didn’t want there to be anyone else besides him.
He let the realization settle in, then drive him forward. He jerked into Jesse’s fist, let Jesse’s tight grip and body drag him crying out over the edge, and he let go, cum spurting over Jesse’s hands, coating their lengths as he came with a shout then pumped them both until the waves had passed. Chuck collapsed onto Jesse’s chest, sucking desperate breaths in through his mouth, the saltiness of Jesse’s sweat against his lips as he licked them clean.
Too soon Jesse was lifting off of him, pulling apart, and climbing into the shower. He held open the shower curtain with his hand extended to Chuck who sagged against the bathroom wall with most of his brain still shorted out.
Jesse’s lips ticked up as he surveyed Chuck. “You okay?”
Chuck felt a blush creeping up his chest and into his neck. He scratched at the hair at the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. “I’m wiped.”
“Shower, then food, then football. We’ll spend the rest of the day in bed.”
“Sounds good.”
Jesse gave him a blinding smile. “No, it sounds fucking perfect.”
Chuck signed contentedly.
He and Jesse lay in bed with a comforter over them, two boxes of pizza between them, Precious sacked out at the foot of the bed, and tumblers of whiskey on the nightstands as they watched the game.
Chuck tried to focus on the drone of the announcer’s commentary filling air space, but Jesse hadn’t stopped touching him since he’d joined Chuck back in bed. Jesse’s long and thick fingers, the ones that had been wrapped around his cock an hour ago, now trailed over Chuck’s sleeve of black and gray-scale tattoos.
Jesse’s fingertips ghosted over his skin, following the whorls that filled in the gaps between the tats associated with particularly painful moments in his life. The job he’d been fired from for speaking out about abusive management. The first man who’d used him solely for sex. The death of the only grandparent who had stood by him when his parents disowned him.
Jesse traversed that map of sorrows with his hand and his eyes, gliding over the curve of Chuck’s shoulder and down his chest to the star inked below his left nipple. Chuck couldn’t restrain his flinch.
“Ticklish?”
Chuck shook his head. “They’re all just really personal.”
Jesse immediately drew back.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s okay for you to touch them.” Jesse was one of the few allowed to. He met Jesse’s gaze. “You can ask me about them too.”
“Okay. Which one was your first?”
Chuck took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about any of his marks, but this one was one of the least painful. He pointed to the bold black “no” in block letters on his forearm. “I got this one first.”
“So what’s the story?”
“I was sixteen, drunk, and out with friends. It seemed like a good idea.”
“But what does it mean?”
“It was a reminder that I didn’t have to say yes if I didn’t want to.”
“To?”
“Mostly to what other people expected of me. It took me too long to realize that I needed to be living my life instead of other peoples’.”
Chuck stared at the bold letters, his hand gripped tightly in a fist. It hadn’t been solely his parents he was saying “no” to. The teammates on his high school soccer team who found out he was gay and ripped into him every time the coach turned his head. The supposed friends who’d abandoned him when he’d started spending more time with Ben. His parents’ elitist social circle who spoke of him being a black mark on the Dunnbradley name.
So he’d made that black mark his own.
He’d cried when that needle first dug into his skin, accepting the pain and reveling in the thought that he’d never seen his dad shed one tear. Then his dad had threatened to skin that tattoo off Chuck’s wrist himself. That had made Chuck only want to get more.
The physical pain had faded long ago, if not the emotional echoes.
Jesse circled his fingers around Chuck’s wrist and ran his thumb over the tattoo in an almost reverent touch, as if he was counting out Chuck’s heartbeat. Chuck flexed his fingers and sank into the gentle caress.
He waited for Jesse to say or ask something else about the mark, but Jesse merely dragged his fingers up Chuck’s arm and pointed to Chuck’s bicep.
“Tell me about that one. The one you were telling Emily about.”
“That’s the one I got in the Netherlands. My first trip outside the US on my own….” What the hell? He might as well spill this secret now.
He leaned over, kissed Jesse’s shoulder, and left his cheek against the plane of Jesse’s collarbone when he answered—needing the solidness of Jesse against him. “And where I met Adalric.”
He knew the name was distinctive enough that Jesse, being the voracious sports reader he was, would pick up immediately on who he was talking about. Adalric had just been starting his semi-pro basketball career when Chuck had met him. One year later, he’d signed his first professional contract with a team in New York and Chuck had followed him there.
“Adalric Vogel?” Jesse’s voice flew up a notch. Chuck nodded. Jesse sat up in bed, throwing Chuck off his shoulder. “How long were you two…?”
“Together?” Chuck asked. Jesse nodded, and Chuck picked up his whiskey from the table, taking a sip to steel his nerves. “Officially seven years, not counting multiple breaks. I finally ended things definitively last year.”
Chuck waited for Jesse to ask how or why they’d ended. He studied Jesse’s face and posture for a hint of what he was thinking. At the same time, he was working out how best to answer that questi
on without dragging the two of them into an uncomfortable conversation, or at worst, a fight.
Jesse’s eyes met his. “Any other pro athletes in your past I should know about?”
Chuck was stunned that was the direction Jesse’s mind had taken. So much so that he gaped, struggling to come up with a response, even though it was a drama-free, one-word answer.
Jesse must have taken that as a non-verbal yes because he picked up his whiskey and slugged some of it back. “Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Too much pressure.”
Chuck laughed softly. Adalric had been the first and last athlete he’d hooked up with. Even that relationship had blurred the lines of his job too much.
“None,” he reassured Jesse.
“Do you still talk to him?”
“I got an email from him a week or so ago, but I think that’s only because I ran into his dad in New York. He wanted to see how I was doing.”
“You, uh…. Is there anything still there?”
The masked vulnerability on Jesse’s face shot straight to Chuck’s heart. “Not at all.”
“Good. I don’t think I could compete with three championship rings.”
“He doesn’t play anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. Those rings are forever. Shit.”
Chuck swiped up the last piece of pizza from his box and held it up, offering it to Jesse to take a bite. “This doesn’t really bother you, does it?”
Jesse slumped against the headboard and crossed his arms behind his head, swallowing. “Whatever, dude. We all have exes.”
“Ah, playing it cool now.”
“Like a penguin drinking a Slurpee in Antarctica.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Jesse slid under the covers and laid his head on Chuck’s stomach. “Yep. Your idiot,” he mumbled.
Chuck set his hand on Jesse’s head and rubbed behind his ear and down the lines of his neck, pulling a moan of appreciation from Jesse. Jesse reached over to the nightstand and took a drink from his whiskey. He inhaled deeply and snuggled deeper into Chuck’s lap.
It was the moments like this that were killing Chuck a little more each day. That it could be this easy between the two of them, both of them so satisfied with everyday life, when minutes before they’d been emotionally vulnerable, and just before that so hot and out of control. Chuck’s chest ached with…want. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted more of this—wanted Jesse completely. And that was where the pain came in. The reality he couldn’t escape from.
Nothing had changed since Jesse had come out, sort of, to Tayshaun. As far as Chuck knew, Jesse still didn’t consider himself anything but straight, and maybe curious.
Until Jesse accepted himself, there wouldn’t be any coming out and there wasn’t any future in this relationship. Hell, there wasn’t a relationship at all. It was amazing sex, laughter, fun, intelligent conversation, sports, then sickly sweet cuddle time.
Even if his past with Adalric hadn’t been a factor, the situation he’d put himself into would’ve been difficult. But memories of Adalric combined with Jesse’s refusal to confront their situation tore at Chuck from the inside. Every day, he was voluntarily submitting himself to the possibility of adding another sorrow-laced mark to his skin.
And he kept coming back.
A month ago he’d decided he wanted to continue with Jesse because it was fun. But now, he was falling for the guy. There was no other way around it. All Chuck could see coming out of that was heartbreak. But he didn’t want to push the subject of what happened next with them because he didn’t want to let Jesse go.
He wanted to hope.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” Jesse said as he wrapped his hand around Chuck’s side and kissed his hipbone.
Jesus, he’s trying to kill me. Somehow he managed to keep his voice even. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Jesse squeezed Chuck’s hip and fit himself closer into Chuck’s body. “My family does Christmas the night before—on Christmas Eve. I was thinking that maybe, if you didn’t have any plans, we could spend Christmas day together. Here. Maybe. If you don’t have any plans.”
Chuck’s heart soared even as he felt it being crushed by the promise of togetherness while they remained hidden away. But how could he say no? Even if he did have somewhere to go, there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be. He ran his hands over Jesse’s head, eliciting an almost purr from the gentle beast. “I’d love to.”
Jesse hummed. “Good.”
Chuck cleared his throat, trying to stuff down the emotions that were too strong and too close to the surface. “Hey, Jesse?”
Jesse craned his neck to look up at Chuck, his brown eyes clear and curious. Patiently waiting.
Chuck’s breath caught in his lungs. Jesus, how long could he really wait?
“Yeah?” Jesse prompted when Chuck didn’t say anything.
You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.
I don’t want to be here just on the weekends anymore.
I may be falling in love with you.
Do you think someday you may love me enough that I’m no longer a shameful secret…?
Fuck.
“Nothing.” He leaned down and kissed Jesse’s head, slinging his arm around Jesse’s chest. “Who just got that penalty?”
Jesse commented on the game and Chuck acknowledged him with a nod, but he didn’t really hear one word of it. Fuckfuckfuck repeated in his head.
It was too late now. There was no way he’d be able to walk away from Jesse with his heart intact.
8
Another week, and another league game, but this time it was indoor soccer. Jesse wiped his brow and struggled to keep up. He might have had more stamina than Chuck when it came to distance running, but Chuck was outmaneuvering him every step of the game. They were on opposite teams again—the usual of Matt versus Kam, the high school quarterbacks who couldn’t let go of their rivalry—and although Jesse hadn’t played soccer in high school, Kam had him playing defense against Chuck.
And Chuck, like usual, was kicking his ass.
Jesse couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. In this position, he got to tussle with Chuck, put his hands all over him, and eyefuck him every single chance he got. Every chance he got.
The man looked like a professional athlete as he moved around the field. He wore blue soccer shorts, white and blue striped socks pulled high over his shinguards, and beat to hell cleats. His chest was bare, that barbell glistening in the indoor stadium lights, and sweat dripped off his forehead. He slicked back the loose strands of hair hanging in his eyes and winked at Jesse before stealing the ball from him and scoring. Again.
That cut body was Chuck’s best offensive weapon.
Jesse couldn’t wait to get him home and in his bed. Naked except for maybe those socks. But as Kensington tradition dictated, not long after the game was over the boys were hanging around in the parking lot bargaining over designated drivers.
Jesse glanced at Chuck. “You want to ride with me over to McLoughlin’s?”
“No McLoughlin’s tonight,” Kam interrupted. “We’re going old school.”
Jesse eyed his best friend. “Jesus, not Bosch.”
“Bosch, baby!” Matt called out as he headed for his car.
“Bosch?” Chuck asked.
“Shit bar,” Jesse said.
“Dive bar,” Matt corrected him, yelling over his shoulder.
“The seedy bar where we started drinking at sixteen,” Kam clarified for Chuck.
Chuck hitched his gym bag further up his shoulder. “In Kensington?”
“West-siders,” Kam teased Chuck. “Nope. We’re crossing borders tonight into Lincoln.”
Jesse gave an overly dramatic eye roll. “It’s three minutes away from my house. And about half a mile down the road from McLoughlin’s.” He turned on Kam. “Why can’t we just go to McLoughlin’s?”
Kam laughed. “Don’t fight it, Sollie. You know you
want to sing.”
“If Bosch is a karaoke bar then I’m out,” Chuck said as he turned on his heel.
Jesse yanked the strap of Chuck’s bag and pulled a scowling Chuck back toward the car. “It’s not a karaoke bar, just a jukebox. But if I have to suffer, you have to suffer.”
“Hey, my team won,” Chuck said.
“Which means you get to pick which song the losers have to sing—Sweet Caroline or American Pie,” Kam said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse could see Chuck studying him. “I changed my mind. I’m in.”
Jesse narrowed his eyes at Chuck. “Why?”
Chuck clapped Kam on the back. “I want to see Sollie do Neil Diamond.”
Jesse’s childhood nickname coming out of Chuck’s mouth surprised him. He sounded like one of the boys who’d called him that nearly his entire life. He ducked his head to hide the blush crawling up his cheeks.
“Excellent choice,” Kam said. “You’re driving me there, Sollie. You owe me a ride.”
Jesse glared at Kam. That meant he’d be in charge of getting Kam home too, either all the way back out to Laughton, or more likely, crashing on Jesse’s couch. It’d been weeks since Kam had asked him, though—weeks since Kam had been to his place at all—and there was no way Jesse could push this off. He shrugged apologetically to Chuck as he unlocked the doors to his car. Any sock-based fantasies would have to wait.
Chuck took the passenger seat and Kam got into the back, grumbling in protest. “Hey, why does the newbie get shotgun?”
“Winner’s choice,” Chuck said as he buckled himself in, then winked at Jesse.
Jesse shook his head, buckled himself in, and grabbed his water bottle.
Kam scoffed. “I’ll have you know that before you came along my team was almost unbeaten because of Sollie.”
“Maybe I just have a magic touch,” Chuck said with a straight face.
Out of the Shade Page 10
