Jack

by A M Snead

  Lovemaking.

  Not just “fucking.”

  A potent cocktail of fear and excitement stirred in Garrett’s heart. He was teetering on the edge of falling in love. Past history urged him to run. His mother’s voice insisted that he let go, leave, before he was the one left behind, hurt and broken. But his heart resisted the compulsion to flee from Jack. His relationship with Scotty had been a mistake. It hadn’t been Scotty’s fault, or his own. Scotty believed that sex was the same as love. Garrett had turned to sex because he’d grown too afraid to trust love, yet craved intimacy with other human beings. He and Scotty had each been broken in their own way, and neither knew how to fix the other. Their relationship had made them worse…not better.

  But it was different with Jack. That sense that something was “wrong” had been there from the start with Scotty. Garrett didn’t feel it now. In fact, nothing had ever felt more “right.” He was scared to admit how powerfully Jack affected him yet couldn’t deny it. He’d never been in a healthy relationship, never been brave enough to put his faith in love or care enough for someone to see them as worth the risk. Until now.

  Garrett caressed Jack’s warm skin and laid soft kisses up and down his back, across his warm rump. He could lie here all night just staring at Jack, drinking in his beauty, memorizing every little detail of his body. And he would—after he went and got something cold to drink. His throat was parched, and he was sure when Jack woke up, he would be thirsty as well.

  Rubbing his hand up Jack’s ribs very lightly, he kissed the nape of his neck, breathed in the wonderful scent of his hair, and whispered, “I’ll be right back, baby.” He smiled as Jack’s confession—"I want to be your baby”—danced through his head and down into his heart. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He left the bed, but his eyes lingered on Jack’s nude form as he pulled on his pants and t-shirt. Before leaving, he covered Jack with the blankets to prevent his damp body from growing chilled.

  I’ll be back soon enough to warm you up again, Garrett thought with a pleasant tickle to his groin. It took a sheer force of will to walk out of the bedroom when what he really wanted was to be back in that bed, cuddled up to Jack’s naked body.

  He closed the bedroom door behind him when he stepped out into the hall. At the head of the staircase, he glanced down the hallway. Scotty’s door at the end was closed. He hadn’t gone to the club tonight. He rarely showed his face outside his bedroom except at dinner. The guilt of his breakup with Scotty ate away at him, but he had done the right thing. For them both. He hadn’t known how to help Scotty then…and he didn’t know how to now.

  Sighing, Garrett descended the stairs. Tonight, was a good night. The best night of his life so far. He wouldn’t sour it by stressing over things that were out of his control. There was someone out there who could help Scotty, Garrett was certain of it. But it wasn’t Garrett.

  Shoving away thoughts of Scotty, Garrett let his mind return to Jack. A smile played on his lips as he envisioned him asleep in bed, so beautiful and serene. He thought of the things Jack had told him…why he was so afraid to fall in love and instinctively wanted to run from it. Garrett understood. Jack had watched his sister’s will to live fade away before his eyes because of a broken heart. In essence, Jack believed it was the loss of her true love that took her life so quickly. Of course, he would shy away from such a powerful force.

  But he had let Garrett in. They had both taken the risk, made the jump—and they hadn’t crashed and burned. They were flying high and it felt fan-fucking-tastic.

  Garrett entered the kitchen and stopped short when he spotted Pratt leaning against the counter, finishing off a breast of fried chicken from last night’s dinner. Gideon had reserved the rooms on the far side of the house for the film crew for whenever they didn’t feel like driving back to their homes, especially after late shoots. It seemed Pratt stayed here a lot, rarely going home.

  “Hey.” Pratt wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I snagged a bite to eat.” He studied Garrett with appraising eyes. “Great show at the club tonight.” Pratt gave a single shake of his head and whistled low. “You and Jack were on fire.”

  Nodding slowly, Garrett looked at him. “You were at the club?”

  “For a while. I left after the show.” He chuckled. “I didn’t figure I could take much more heat without combusting.”

  Garrett yawned and laughed quietly. His own exhaustion was coming on fast, but the smell of the fried chicken which Pratt had heated in the microwave suddenly had his stomach rolling and growling almost painfully. “Any of that left?” Garrett nodded at the chicken breast, now mostly bone.

  Dumping the remains in the garbage, Pratt wiped his mouth again and nodded. “Yeah, a few more pieces.”

  Garrett yawned again and shook his head. “Fuck. I’m wiped out.”

  “I can imagine.” Pratt smirked. “After that show onstage and then…” He nodded toward the second floor. “I’m surprised you’re conscious at all. You two have been busy tonight.”

  Garrett’s brow pinched as he opened the refrigerator; how did Pratt know just how “busy” he and Jack had been since they got home? He glanced at the man over the fridge door.

  The smile that curved Pratt’s lips as he pushed away from the counter didn’t sit so well with Garrett. “Have a good…rest of the night.” Pratt winked. “Don’t hurt yourselves, now.”

  Garrett watched him leave the kitchen then stared into the fridge, frowning. Surely the guy hadn’t been spying on him and Jack…had he? Watching them while they were shooting a scene was one thing. But off screen? That was just…fucking creepy.

  You’re overreacting, he berated himself, there’s no real reason to think he was watching you and Jack. Common sense would’ve told him you and Jack came home to fuck.

  Shrugging off the creepy vibe, Garrett grabbed a soda and a couple pieces of chicken. He put the chicken in the microwave and sat down at the table, opened the soda and downed half the can. His eyes felt thick, heavy, and he rubbed them hard then laid his head on his arms as the chicken heated up.

  It seemed like only minutes when he opened his eyes and straightened in the chair. The microwave was off, and the chicken was cold. How long had he been asleep?

  Hardly able to stay awake, he returned the chicken to the fridge, too tired to think about eating now. He just wanted to be back in bed, snuggling with Jack and maybe finding his way into the guy’s dreams.

  His body warmed with anticipation as he climbed the stairs. No one had ever affected him this way before. Never had he craved to just be “near” another person, not like this. His heart thumped harder, faster, as he neared Jack’s bedroom door.

  “I love it when you call me baby.”

  Garrett smiled, his throat squeezing with emotion.

  “I want to be your baby.”

  “I want you to be my baby,” Garrett whispered, repeating what he’d told Jack earlier, and grabbed the doorknob and twisted. Expecting it to open with ease, he started to enter and bumped hard against the door when the knob caught against the lock. What the hell? He turned the handle a couple more times then leaned close. “Jack?” he said quietly and knocked on the door. “Jack? Why is the door locked?”

  Silence on the other side. Garrett’s stomach began to twist, pinch. He swallowed thickly and knocked a little louder.

  “Jack? What’s going on? Come on, open the door.”

  Nothing. Garrett’s pulse quickened, and mild nausea invaded his gut. Why would Jack lock him out? It didn’t make any sense.

  “Jack?” Garrett struggled to keep his voice even as a quiet panic began to seep over him. “Baby, come on. Let me in. What’s wrong?”

  Jack didn’t answer. After repeated attempts to get Jack to let him in the room—to no avail—he backed away from the door, fear coursing through his veins. Maybe he was still asleep at the kitchen table and having a bad dream. It’s the only thing that made sense. Why would Jack just shut him out?

  Left with n
o choice but to return to his own room, Garrett lay down on his bed in the dark, moonlight pressing around the edges of his closed drapes. His breath shuddered, and throat knotted painfully, causing a burning in his eyes. He hugged his stomach as it began to hurt—an ache that crept up into his chest, his heart.

  Tears slipped out and drained down his temples. It was just a misunderstanding, it had to be. He would talk to Jack in the morning and everything would be okay. It would.

  He turned onto his side and stared at the slits of moonlight cutting into the dark room as more tears thickened and spilled over.

  Don’t do this to me, Jack. Please, baby…

  He closed his eyes, body trembling.

  I’m falling in love with you.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Garrett dropped back against the door and slid down to the floor, his head in his hands. He shoved his face against his knees and the tears came fast and hard, sobs shaking his body. The heat of Jack’s body still consumed him. He could still feel Jack’s arms around him, holding him so tight, so desperate. But it was a lie, all of it.

  The morning after his night with Jack, he had left his bedroom with the intention of going to Jack and asking him what had happened. But when he’d stepped out into the hall…Jack was coming out of the twins’ bedroom—fastening his pants. And the look in his eyes when he’d met Garrett’s stare…that was when Garrett had realized his mistake. His mom had given him that one rule to live by—When you feel yourself falling, run for your life—and he had broken it.

  She had been right all along.

  Garrett squeezed fistfuls of his hair, tearing at the roots, his sobs intensifying, racking his body.

  Love was just a lie.

  PART THREE

  “Jack of all Trades”

  52 The Pool Skit: Scene One—“The Cabana”

  The cabana door was open when Austin approached with the drink tray. He hesitated and glanced inside the room, finding it empty. The shower was running, and he took a step inside, looking toward the bathroom. He grew still when he noticed the bathroom door was ajar, affording him a clear view of the shower—and the naked man behind the frosted glass doors, his form visible enough to reveal his well-built body.

  Austin cleared his throat and shifted his feet as his cock jumped inside his white uniform shorts. He balanced the small tray on one palm while he rapped his knuckles on the cabana’s open door. “Sir?” he called. “I’ve brought your drink.”

  The shower shut off and one of the glass doors slid partially open. “I’ll be out in a moment,” the man said. “Just set it anywhere.”

  Austin cast another discreet glance at the bathroom before entering the room and placed the tray on a small table. He lingered uncertainly. The tips he received made up a good part of his income and he didn’t want to miss out on this one, but he never felt comfortable acting as if he “expected” a tip. And lingering behind when he had no other reason made him feel like he was begging.

  Missing out on one tip would hardly break him, and in this case might help him retain a bit of dignity if he simply left. He turned to go and was halted in his tracks as he caught sight of the man stepping out of the shower; body sculpted to perfection in every sense of the word. An instant throb invaded his cock and grew with force when the man grabbed a towel and bent over, ass to Austin, and dried his legs.

  He had yet to get a good look at the man’s face, but was it even possible for a body like that to have a face of any less perfection? Austin tried to pull his eyes away. He could get fired for ogling a member of the club—especially for spying on them this way. But he was helpless to look. The man straightened up, the muscles in his back flexing as he flipped the towel over his head and rubbed vigorously. His ass cheeks clenched and released repeatedly, Austin’s hand crept to his own crotch and he absently rubbed himself.

  The man turned his way and before Austin could halt his action, the towel was dragged off the man’s head, revealing his face. Austin gasped, his brow pinching. “Lance Cocker?” he whispered, trembling.

  Without taking notice of Austin, the man continued to dry his body then stepped forward and the sink faucet turned on. Austin heard the tick of a razor tapping against the edge of the porcelain and envisioned the man dragging the blade down his handsome face. Against his better judgment, Austin approached the bathroom door tentatively.

  The razor faltered against Lance’s jaw as Austin appeared in the mirror behind him. The man stood naked before the sink, the towel draped around his neck. Austin couldn’t refuse his eyes a full sweep of Lance’s gorgeous body, lingering on his perfect ass.

  “Can I help you?” Lance was staring at him through the mirror, one eyebrow cocked, enhancing his sexiness.

  Austin swallowed nervously, aware that he was dangerously overstepping his bounds. “Lance Cocker?”

  His eyes narrowing slightly, Lance continued to stare at Austin’s reflection. “Do I know you?”

  The man didn’t recognize him. But why should he? Even in high school, they had been on two very different social scales—Austin much lower than Lance. “We went to school together,” he said quietly.

  “You’re going to have to give me something more than that.” Lance smirked. “I went to school with a lot of guys. What’s your name?”

  “Austin Cummings.”

  Lance placed the razor on the back of the sink and turned around. Austin’s stare instantly jumped to the man’s crotch—and his growing erection. “Let me guess…” A smug smile painted across Lance’s lips as he leaned against the sink and folded his arms over his chest. “You had a thing for me in high school and were hoping that maybe I’d had some secret crush on you, too?”

  That was exactly what Austin was hoping, but when Lance spoke it aloud—it sounded rather ridiculous and childish. Despite the man’s hardened cock, Austin got no sense that Lance was interested. Other than to perhaps mock him.

  “My apologies,” Austin mumbled and stepped back, lowering his eyes to the floor in a gesture of humble respect to someone of greater importance than himself. “Forgive my intrusion.”

  Austin turned away from the man, his face strained with humiliation and hurt, and was startled when a strong hand caught hold of his arm, pulling him back around with a bit of force. His chest bumped Lance and Austin gasped. Lance gripped both his arms, holding him up close, his face just inches from Austin’s.

  “Of course, I remember you.” A rasp thickened the man’s voice. “You kept my cock hard all day, every day.” He brushed his lips across Austin’s mouth then moved to his neck. Austin’s eyes grew heavy and his hands flattened on Lance’s damp, heated chest. “I used to fantasize about you joining me in the locker room shower and the two of us fucking each other senseless.”

  Shivering with pleasure, Austin whispered, “So did I.” He shivered again when Lance slowly tugged Austin’s uniform shirt from the waistband of his shorts and peeled it up over his head.

  “Have you been thinking about me for all these years?” Lance asked as he found the button of Austin’s shorts and popped it loose. Before unzipping him, Lance rubbed his hand down into Austin’s crotch and squeezed his hard cock.

  “Yes.” Lance trembled, breath quickening.

  The man smiled, pleased by Austin’s answer. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” He dragged down the zipper of Austin’s shorts and slipped his hand under the elastic band of Austin’s briefs and touched raw flesh.

  A short, sharp breath sucked down Austin’s throat. He moaned and pressed his lips to Lance’s throat, his arousal filling the guy’s palm.

  “I’m impressed,” Lance murmured, his breath hot on Austin’s throat as he slowly squeezed and stroked Austin’s erection. He withdrew his hand and shoved Austin’s shorts off his hips and lower, exposing his ass and releasing his stiff cock. Lance sank down before Austin, sliding his shorts down his legs and off his feet. His hands caressed up Austin’s bare thighs then curled around his hard shaft and stroked hand over hand while
he gazed up at him, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t just want to fuck you, Austin,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to be my boyfriend.”

  Austin buried his fingers in Lance’s wet, black hair and gasped sharply as his cock was engulfed by the man’s hot mouth. “I wanted that, too.” He shuddered, eyes closing. He gripped Lance’s wet strands, squeezing hard as he panted unevenly, his cock head bumping the back of the man’s throat over and over. “Fuck…” he whimpered.

  A deep, pronounced clearing of the throat jerked Austin’s eyes open—and back to reality.

  ♥

  “Cut!” Rich called, and Lucas moaned, pulling off Jack’s cock. He stood up and licked his lips.

  Jack’s pulse raced, his cock hard as granite and throbbing, slick with Lucas’ saliva. A shuddering breath escaped him, and he wiped his face.

  Lucas chuckled. “Liked that, did ya?”

  “Fuck,” Jack panted quietly and grinned.

  Rich approached them and instructed Jack to get back into his cabana boy uniform and had him return to the bedroom area. “Austin snaps out of his thoughts and realizes it was all a fantasy, and that he is caught red-handed, so to speak, by the object of his desire.” He indicated Lucas, who smiled and winked.

  Jack nodded. He and Lucas had rehearsed this scene just last night.

  “We’ll finish up this short piece then take a break while the next scene is set up.” Moving off the set, Rich waited for them to take their places then—“Action!”

  ♥

  Austin remained outside the bathroom, near the drink tray, his hand clutching and rubbing his crotch through his shorts—and Lance Cocker lounging in the bathroom doorway, eyeing him with an arched brow and amused smirk.

  Mortified at being caught in the throes of the fantasy, Austin rushed for the cabana door as Lance broke from his casual stance and ran after him. “Austin! Wait—”