by Tal Bauer
He turned the page.
A printout of the news headline and a picture of Jack on the day he told the world that he and Ethan were more than friends, more than colleagues. That he loved Ethan.
“I’m so sorry,” Ethan murmured. “That you had to do that―”
“I didn’t have to. Pete told me to deny it. I chose to say what I said.”
“Why?” Ethan frowned, and he finally turned away from the photos. “Why, Jack? Why did you reveal it all? You could have avoided all of this―”
“Because I loved you, and I still do love you. You deserved more than to be forgotten or ignored. I thought you were gone, and I wanted to do the right thing for your memory.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry I did it without you.” Jack’s expression twisted, frustration and guilt at war with each other. “When you did come back… I’d changed your entire world. You didn’t even get a choice about it.” He plucked at the bear again. “I feel bad about that.”
His eyes opened and caught on their Christmas tree. On their matching stockings. Wandered back to their ornament and the picture within the small frame. Would they have had any of this if they hadn’t been outed? If they had to stay in hiding?
He reached for Jack’s hand. “I told you before. I wouldn’t change anything. This, all of this, is exactly what I want.”
Jack smiled, squeezing Ethan’s hand. “There’s more.” He pointed back to the book.
Ethan turned to the next page.
One photo, blown up to cover both pages. Him kissing Jack in the back of the ambulance on the White House North Lawn after everything had gone down. After Black Fox, and Jeff, and Ethan helping Jack out of the destroyed White House.
“‘The kiss that shook the world’.” Jack shook his head, but he smiled.
The rest of the pages were a mix of pictures from Jack’s phone and the media. The two of them together in the White House, walking with Ethan’s arm around Jack’s waist, Jack’s arm in a sling. Jack presenting Daniels, Welby, Inada, and Scott with medals, and Ethan hanging back, clapping for his friends. Jack taking a selfie of them both, their matching black eyes fading away. A selfie taken while they were kissing, and another one where Jack’s gaze had wandered to the camera mid-kiss, but the pure love in his blue eyes stopped any protest Ethan might have made.
Screenshots of Ethan over Skype, smiling, blushing, laughing.
Shots from the weekends. Drinking beers together. A selfie watching the Super Bowl. Another official photo, this time from behind, the two of them in silhouette with their hands clasped, standing on the Truman Balcony and gazing at the Washington Monument.
Jack’s selfies from the Christmas tour and the pictures Daniels had taken. Even the one Daniels had sneaked in, the group selfie of the agents grinning for Jack’s camera.
Finally, on the last page, pictures from the Christmas Ball only days before. Him and Jack dancing and gazing into each other’s eyes, smiling and sneaking kisses. Christmas trees and golden decorations floated in the background, but Jack’s smile and the love in Ethan’s eyes stole the soul of the picture.
“We did everything in-house. Turns out, you can get things pretty quickly around here if you’re the president.” Jack leaned into Ethan’s shoulder, smiling.
“This is…” He didn’t know what to say. Amazing? Unbelievable? Perfect? He shook his head. “It’s―” How did he quantify this gift, a seemingly simple book of pictures with the one man who made his soul feel like it was on fire? God, it was so much more than just a Christmas present. It was almost like a declaration. “Year One,” implying more years. Permanence. It was printed. It was bound. There was no shoving this away, no hiding what it was. Their love, their life. Here to stay. How did he react to everything swirling in his heart and his head, unlocked by the gift Jack had given him?
“Us.” Jack pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s us.” Another kiss, and Jack’s cheek rested on the curve of his shoulder. “I love you.”
He finally found some words but still fumbled, as if speaking was something brand-new to him, some trick of a more evolved creature. “This is,” he started slowly, “the single best gift I have ever received.” Ethan turned to Jack and cradled his face in both hands. “I love you,” he breathed, “more than I can ever say.”
Jack’s eyes closed as he smiled and leaned forward, nuzzling his forehead against Ethan’s. After a moment, Ethan pulled Jack closer, lying back and tugging Jack until he was lying on top of him, the teddy bear mashed between the couch and their sides. Jack rested his cheek on Ethan’s shoulder as Ethan stroked up and down Jack’s back, watching the Christmas tree lights twinkle as he held the love of his life in his arms.
16
They stayed in bed almost all day on Saturday.
Ethan woke first, teasing Jack awake with a sloppy blowjob, until Jack’s fingers gripped his hair and tugged as he came. He reciprocated, Ethan ripping Jack’s bedsheets free from the corners of the mattress.
Later, Ethan grabbed his new coffee cup for them to share, bringing it back to bed along with the teddy bear and the photobook. They went through each page, every photo, reminiscing about their building friendship and their secretive relationship, and when they had to hide that they were dating while still working in the West Wing.
Clearly, in hindsight, they had done a piss-poor job hiding everything. It was all there in the way they looked at each other. How they stood a little too close. Ethan’s hands lingering on Jack’s back or his shoulder, or their smiles and gazes hanging for just a bit too long. Captured forever in official White House photos.
Jack’s playful selfies of them both made Ethan’s heart want to burst. Moments he remembered. Moments when Jack had taken a picture without him knowing.
Even though they wanted to ignore the world, and have the world ignore them for just one day, Jack was still the president and there was still an invasion only days away. Jack took phone calls, totally naked in bed, while Ethan slipped into the bathroom. He came back and nuzzled Jack’s hip, kissed his belly, and laid his head on Jack’s thigh. Jack’s eyes blazed, burning as his fingers ran through Ethan’s hair as he talked through the day’s updates from his Joint Chiefs over the phone.
Ethan was too lazy to cook and Jack didn’t want to disrupt the White House staff, so Ethan texted Daniels for the number of the pizza place they always ordered from down in Horsepower. Forty-five minutes later, Daniels texted back that their pizza was coming up the elevator.
They moved to the Study to eat and watch a movie, curled up together by the light of the tree. The sun set, but they kept the lights off, aside from the decorations.
After the movie ended, Jack started a fire and spread a blanket on the floor before the flames, pulling throw pillows down with him. He tried to hide setting their bottle of lube and a condom near the tree, within reach but tucked away. Burnished light played over his skin, over his bare chest, and teased at the waistband of his boxers.
“C’mere,” Jack breathed, holding his hand out to Ethan when he was done. His eyes lingered on Ethan’s body, trailed over his chest and his legs.
Ethen went, smiling as he landed beside Jack. Heat from the fire tickled his arms, the backs of his knees.
They kissed slowly as the fire warmed their bodies, prickled sweat against their skin. One of Jack’s hands cupped Ethan’s cheek and Ethan’s heart fluttered. “I want to suck you,” Jack murmured against his lips. “Is that okay?”
He moaned. “Yeah. ’Course.”
Ethan lay back, propped on his elbows with his legs spread as Jack crawled between them. Jack reached for the lube, set it beside Ethan’s thigh, and wiggled a throw pillow beneath Ethan’s hips. And then―
Ethan tipped his head back, groaning and cursing. Jack’s mouth was hot, his moves slow and just sloppy enough to be almost scandalous. Salacious, even. His was the only cock Jack had ever sucked, and that made his soul shiver.
He’d thought Jack blow
ing him would be a rare occurrence. Would be something that maybe he’d miss, but he would do without for his love of Jack.
He’d long lost count of how many times Jack had sucked him, swallowed him whole.
God, Jack sucked him with that perfect combination of hot and sweet, sloppy and tender. Like it was his first time, every single time. Or like he really, truly enjoyed it, enjoyed making Ethan’s thighs clench and quiver.
His legs trembled, lines of fire racing through him. How was he this lucky? How was this his life?
And then, Jack’s finger, already slick, slid past his balls.
God, yes. Ethan lifted his leg, resting his foot gently on Jack’s shoulder. His toes curled, and then his foot, and he barely held back the quiver that jolted through him when Jack’s finger rubbed over his hole. He was warm, dizzy from too many sensations: the heat of the fire and the suction of Jack’s mouth, the press of Jack’s fingers against his entrance. The stretch. The thought of Jack, opening his body up―
Jack had learned enough to know how to stretch and loosen, when to wait, and when to stroke. Ethan whimpered and fell back when Jack pressed his fingers deep, just behind his cock.
With Jack, everything was like raw lightning. Or a forest fire, scorching heat moving in forceful waves through him. His body was blazing, making him shiver, and a part of him felt slick and messy and open, craving in a way that was almost primal. Needy. Jack was inside him, in a place where no other had been, and though he’d thought it would be invasive, would be something that spread him open too much, he almost couldn’t believe it when he wanted more. Each and every time, more and more of Jack.
Jack sat back and wiped his arm across his face, smearing his spit as one shaking hand reached for the condom. He tore it with his teeth, and Ethan watched it all. Watched Jack’s shoulders heave as he breathed hard and fast. Watched the flush of his chest, crimson in the firelight. Watched him spit out the wrapper and bite his lip as he worked the condom down his cock and fumbled for the lube. More lube slicked against his ass, and he saw Jack squirt some on himself, shivering as he stroked it over his condom-covered cock before wiping his slick fingers over Ethan’s thigh, up to the back of his knee. Lube smeared on his skin, but Ethan didn’t care.
Ethan’s mouth hung open, panting as he waited. Jack moved closer, lining them up, his tongue poking out as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against Ethan’s opening. He bit his lip and pushed.
Ethan grasped Jack’s arms, his breath leaving him, all his oxygen replaced by the feel of Jack entering him. The ache, the heat, the craving. He pulled his legs farther apart. The stretch, the feeling of being breached. Of Jack filling him, and his body opening for Jack’s cock.
Gasping, Jack sank all the way in. He paused, hovering over Ethan as their bodies locked together, joined as close as two men could possibly be. Ethan’s cock rose between them, swollen and dark. Jack stared down, smiling like he was looking at something breathtakingly beautiful.
“So gorgeous,” Jack whispered. “Ethan, you’re so gorgeous.”
Ethan swallowed. His hands fluttered down Jack’s arms, skipping over his skin. Rounded his elbows, his thumbs stroking over his biceps. Jack was sleek where Ethan was not, tanned skin soft and smooth unlike Ethan’s coarser skin, his scars, and his hair. “I’m not―” He grunted, his body still welcoming Jack within. “I’m not too…” How did he finish that thought? His words were fleeing him, his thoughts reduced to base desires and needs and fears. “Male?”
Confusion tangled in Jack’s gaze for a moment. He blinked, and then it vanished, replaced by a hint of shock and then warm love. He leaned down, one hand stroking through Ethan’s hair as he bent Ethan in half, keeping them joined. “You’re wonderfully male,” he said, his voice rough-edged, too deep. “I could never confuse you for anything else, Ethan. You’re the man I fell in love with.”
And then he started to move.
Ethan gritted his teeth and stared up at Jack. Jack moved slowly, rocking thrusts turning into long, deep slides in and out. Ethan shivered and writhed until Jack pulled his legs over his own arms, opening Ethan up completely. Jack had his whole body, his whole soul, in his grasp, and moved reverently, as if worshipping Ethan.
They’d done it all. Made love slow, sensual, and languid, kissing until their orgasms almost surprised them. Hard and fast―the furious reconnection of a week or more apart. But, in front of the fire, something new was building inside Ethan. Desire sizzled, coiling in his soul, so tight and clenched that he felt he would snap.
Jack kept a rolling pace, indolent in front of the fire, watching Ethan like he was trying to memorize him. Ethan’s gasps and moans, the breathless way Jack’s name fell from his lips… Jack’s eyes caught it all, and Ethan burned beneath the intensity of his stare. He was turned entirely inside out by it.
Shifting, Jack bent Ethan a little bit more, enough so that they could tangle their lips together. Jack smiled down at him, eyes holding Ethan’s gaze, as he snapped his hips into Ethan, deeper than before. Faster. Until he had a rhythm going, until Ethan was panting, openmouthed and staring up at Jack as he trembled, his hands clenching around Jack’s shoulders. He hung on, rocking on Jack’s thrusts, held entirely in Jack’s embrace.
He got one hand on his cock, and Jack cursed, almost faltering. His eyes blazed. “Love seeing you touch yourself,” Jack said, blushing as if it was an admission. “Love seeing you come. Seeing you fall apart.”
“Fuck…” There was too much heat building everywhere, spreading through his body, and he was gasping against it, against the pressure. It all sharpened on one ragged inhale, and the world froze on Jack’s next thrust. Ethan’s body shattered, his orgasm tearing through him. He shouted, wordless cries and Jack’s name as he shivered and shook and white-hot pleasure spiraled through him.
Jack whimpered, thrusting against Ethan, kissing him as much as he could around Ethan’s pants and gasps, sucking on his lip, his chin. He faltered, moaning through clenched teeth, his shoulders heaving as his hips snapped against Ethan. He buried his cock as deep as it could go, all of him twitching and pulsing as he tried to breathe against the skin of Ethan’s neck.
Ethan didn’t want to let go. He held on, legs tangled in Jack’s arms, desperately trying to wrap around his waist, his shoulder, anything he could reach. His hands slid through Jack’s hair, fingers playing in the dirty-blond strands. They were still connected, still pressed so close, as if they could climb inside each other’s skin and share one soul.
Eventually, Jack pulled back, and they lay on their sides facing each other, kissing slowly as the fire died, fingers tracing patterns into the skin of their shoulders, cheeks, and chests.
“All right,” Jack hissed the next morning. He propped himself up on his elbows, peering down at Ethan on their bed. “I think I’m sexed out.”
“Oh, thank God.” Ethan exhaled, still shaking from their morning fumble and their latest orgasms. “That last one stung.”
“I think I’m completely dry.” Chuckling, Jack tucked his face into Ethan’s neck, pressing a warm kiss to his skin. “He’s retreating. White flag is up.”
Ethan laughed, and his hands stroked up and down Jack’s back, slow and gentle. “Was afraid I couldn’t keep up with you.”
Jack snorted. “I’ll need all week to recover.”
And then the light moment fled.
It was Sunday. And Ethan was leaving.
Ethan wrapped his arms around Jack, holding him close enough to feel Jack’s rough swallow through their pressed chests.
“Five days,” Jack breathed.
Ethan didn’t know if he was talking about the time they’d just had, or the days between now and their next visit. Either way, it was a terrible number. Not long enough and far too long, all at the same time. “We still have the morning.”
Except, not quite.
Jack was still the president and the phone rang even on Sundays. He fielded calls from Irwin and a longer one from the Join
t Chiefs as Ethan made a feast for breakfast. French toast, eggs and bacon, orange juice and sliced fruit. Jack ate bites in between his morning brief, held on speakerphone in the kitchen, as Ethan stayed silent. He watched the play of Jack’s hair in the winter sunlight, the curves of his shoulders beneath his T-shirt. The plump bow of his lips. Tried to burn it all into his memory and the backs of his eyelids.
By the time they were alone again, it was nearly time to pack. Ethan kept pushing it off, lingering by Jack’s side in the kitchen as they flirted over coffee and traded smiles and jokes.
Until there was no time left at all, and he hurried through his shower as Jack threw his clothes, coffee mug, and photobook into his duffel, and Scott kept texting him to hurry up or he’d miss his flight. Jack had on jeans and his long overcoat, and Ethan couldn’t remember what he threw on.
He had to leave earlier than usual. Jack had to get back to work. There was an invasion to manage and a war to win.
He kissed Jack in the elevator going down, holding him tight as his stomach fell further than the three floors they dropped. His tongue grew heavy and hard, thick with sorrow and frustration, and he didn’t know what to say.
But Jack climbed into the SUV with him, holding his hand, and Ethan leaned his head against Jack’s, grateful for the extra twenty-eight minutes they could share. The partition was up again, Scott and his driver giving them privacy for their last moments.
“It’s on the twenty-ninth,” Jack whispered. His fingers laced through Ethan’s. “The invasion. It starts Tuesday. Airborne troops will drop into Iraq and Syria from Turkey and Jordan late Tuesday night. Russian troops are coming in from Georgia and Azerbaijan.”
Ethan pressed a kiss to Jack’s hair and held him close, inhaling his scent. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Silence as they rumbled through the streets of DC and turned onto the highway toward the airport.
