Always

by R. J. Moray

  “Seven? Does that work for you?” and he glanced at Dean.

  “Plenty. I’ll make sure Channon gets back with time to spare.”

  Jack smiled. “Okay. Have fun, sweetheart,” and he bent down to kiss Channon on the mouth.

  It was just a peck, then he slid a hand over Channon’s cheek and walked away, but Channon knew exactly how it looked, and it took him an effort to meet Dean’s eye.

  Fuck, Dean looked like he’d been slapped in the face. That was genuine horror. Channon must have misread him badly and now…now what?

  For a moment, no one said anything, and then Dean seemed to have an epiphany. “He’s not your dad,” he said.

  “What? No!” Channon stared at him. “He’s my boyfriend. I mean, he’s my fiancé.”

  Dean put a hand over his face. “You smug prick,” he sputtered. “I nearly swallowed my fucking tongue!”

  “What?”

  “I thought your dad was kissing you on the mouth!” Dean hissed through his fingers. “It was weird.”

  “Oh my God, no!”

  “Fuck,” Dean gasped, sinking down in his chair until he was practically lying in it. “Fuck me. You got me good.”

  “I didn’t prank you,” Channon protested. “I didn’t know you’d think that.”

  “Nah, but it was a good one, anyway.” Dean sighed and shoved himself up on one elbow. “So I guess I got my answer. Yeah, you like blokes, but no, you’re not up for it.”

  Channon was too embarrassed about the other thing to have any embarrassment left for this. “That was a question?”

  “Yeah.” Dean grinned, clearly over his horror. “I was gunna ask if you wanted to grab a drink later. See if you wanted…anything.”

  Channon bit his lip. He felt bad for Dean, who clearly didn’t feel all that bad for himself. “I’m engaged,” he said.

  “Fair enough. Hey, if we still wanna hit the slopes, we should get outta here.”

  He grinned. Channon felt forgiven, so he smiled tentatively back. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Four

  Dean was as good as his word. He got Channon back to the cabin with an hour to spare. He also kept it professional, right up until he was leaving.

  “You know, if you and your ‘dad’ want company later,” he said, grinning like a sonofabitch, “my extension’s ‘sixty-nine, dude’.”

  Channon spluttered with laughter. “You asshole.”

  Dean shrugged, clearly nonplussed. “Hey, it’s slim bloody pickin’s up here. Everyone who can afford this place is stuffed so far up their own arseholes there’s no room for anyone else, and all the other instructors are straight.”

  “That sucks,” Channon said, but he had nothing else. Dean and Jack…he didn’t know how he felt about that. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that. So he just felt awkward.

  “Seriously, but,” Dean was saying, “I had fun. Lemme know if you’re not too sore tomorrow, and I’ll teach you how to do a one-eighty.”

  “Okay. Thanks for today. It was awesome. And, um, you’re pretty awesome too,” Channon said, wishing he wasn’t a total loser.

  Dean grinned. “Yeah, you betcha.” He backed up a step, swaggering cockily. “You change your mind, my extension really is sixty-nine.”

  Channon found Jack on the bed, dressed in an undershirt and boxers and doing something on his phone. “Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah, I did. Um, Dean said I’m a natural.”

  Jack smiled. “Did he, now? What else did Dean say?” When Channon must have paused too long, Jack chuckled. “Aw, sweetheart. He was good looking. Did it get awkward?”

  “Yes, but not…I mean.” Channon sat down on the edge of the bed, not sure how to say this. “He thought you were my dad.”

  “Oh?”

  “And then you kissed me.”

  Jack’s smile widened. “I see.”

  “And he thought I was kissing my dad on the mouth.”

  It made Jack chuckle. He rubbed Channon’s leg. “That must have been awkward.”

  “It was so awkward! Anyway, after I set him straight, he, uh…said he’d been going to ask me to have a drink with him.”

  “And did you tell him you were under twenty-one?”

  Channon blinked. “No? I told him I was engaged.”

  “So you don’t want to go have a drink with him?”

  Channon frowned. “No? Because…I’m engaged?”

  There was a pause, and then Jack took Channon’s hands. “Sweetheart, what does it mean to you that we’re engaged now? Are there new rules? Because you’re allowed to hang out with other people, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but he meant…you know. A date. I mean, not even a date. He just meant sex.”

  “Did you want to?”

  Channon squirmed. “I’m engaged. Am I supposed to want to?”

  “You’re supposed to tell me when you’re attracted to someone. And then I get to tease you about it.” Jack pulled him down alongside, curving an arm around Channon’s waist. “Do you find him attractive?”

  There was so much heat in his cheeks. “Yes,” Channon admitted.

  “And if I said you could, would you go meet him tonight? Let him suck your dick for you?”

  Channon shuddered. “Yes,” he said, because he could see it now, Dean on his knees with his mouth on Channon’s cock, that wicked grin stretched around him, and his glacier blue eyes dark with hunger.

  “Yeah?” Jack’s hand moved down, cupped Channon’s ass and squeezed. “You could come on his face. Maybe he’d like that. Maybe after that you’d let him fuck you.”

  Channon shuddered. “God, Jack, I—” but then he realized what he’d said. “Sir,” he corrected himself, but Jack kissed his lip, hushing him softly.

  “It’s okay. You’re not wearing your collar. You can call me whatever you want. Jack. Sir.” Daddy, he didn’t say, but Channon felt the absence of it keenly. “Tell me what you’d want him to do to you.”

  Channon drew a shuddering breath, trying to think. He knew how Jack loved this game, and he thought he knew the boundaries of it, but also… “He said if we wanted him tonight, his extension was sixty-nine. He said it twice, so I think it’s true.”

  There was a pause, and then— “I see. So. We’d call him up. Would you do it, or would I?”

  “You,” Channon said.

  Jack nodded. “Okay. I’d call him, invite him over for a drink. And you’d be naked or dressed? When he got here.”

  “Dressed,” Channon said. “I’d want…I’d make out with him.”

  “You want to kiss him.”

  “I like his mouth.”

  “You don’t want me to kiss him, though.”

  “No. Is that okay?”

  Jack kissed his jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart, that’s fine. You make out with him. Standing up. I watch the two of you undress. Then what?”

  “I’d lay him on the bed.”

  “On his chest?”

  “On his back. I’d get up on him and put my cock in his mouth.”

  “Yeah, do that.” Jack’s hand found Channon’s cock and rubbed him through his pants. “Fuck his face for me. Don’t come yet.”

  “I won’t.” Channon humped Jack’s palm, his cock swelling up against it. “I don’t want to come in his mouth.”

  “Where are you going to come, baby?”

  “In his ass,” Channon gasped, as Jack yanked down his pants and closed his fingers around Channon’s cock. “Ah! I’m gonna…gonna fuck him with my fingers and then, then stick my cock in him. With him on his back, so I can kiss him some more.”

  “Are you going to jerk him off?” Jack asked, as he started to slowly stroke Channon’s dick.

  Channon shook his head. “Not yet. I want to come first.”

  “Greedy,” Jack chuckled.

  “I want you in me when I come,” Channon said, carried away by the fantasy. “I want you fucking me into him, like, like with Ewan. And I want
to come first, and then I want you to fuck me hard, and when you’re done, that’s when I’m going to let him come.”

  Jack squeezed him hard enough it made Channon gasp, and then Jack had shoved him onto his back, yanking Channon’s pants all the way down to his knees. “Yes,” Jack growled, peeling off his boxers. “That’s what I fucking want.”

  Jack straddled him, driving his cock against Channon’s in a rough slide, and then his mouth was on Channon’s, his tongue driving inside, and Channon arched into him, his hands clutching at Jack’s shoulders. God, Jack was hot and hungry, and Channon wanted him too, even if the friction of it was a little too much. Jack pulled away long enough to spit in his hand, and then he had it wrapped around their cocks, working them together as he savaged Channon’s throat with his teeth.

  It came over Channon so quickly, barely any warning before he was on the brink. He couldn’t even ask for permission, and then he was coming, hard and messy, and Jack swore, slicking his hand with semen. He jerked himself roughly, and then his head went back, his muscles cording with the strain of it as he emptied his balls onto Channon’s wet belly, mixing them together there in a sticky mess.

  Fuck. Channon tried to catch his breath, and for once he didn’t even have the energy to feel guilty for coming without permission.

  “Fffuck,” Jack said, as if in agreement. He rested his brow on Channon’s chest for a moment, and then looked up at him, still breathing hard, a feral look in his dark-lashed eyes. “That was fucking hot.”

  “Uh-huh,” Channon agreed, all his limbs useless. He licked his lips. “S-sorry. I came.”

  “Yeah, you did.” Jack grinned, sliding his fingers through the mess. He lifted them to Channon’s mouth, and Channon sucked them dutifully. “Do you want to be punished for it? I’ll punish you, if you want me to. But I don’t think you need it.”

  Channon found he didn’t want it. “Will you forgive me, Sir?”

  “Forgiven, sweetheart.” Jack kissed his cheek and collapsed on the bed beside him. “Mmm. I love your dirty mind.”

  “And it’s okay?” Channon asked, no longer worried but needing to know. “If I think things like that about people, now we’re engaged.”

  “Sweetheart, if you told me you wanted me to call him right now to come over here and be fucked by you while I watched, I’d do it.” Jack breathed out, stretching his shoulders. “Well, not right now. After dinner, maybe. Right now, I’m spent.”

  “Then, it’s okay to look?”

  Jack propped himself up on one arm. “You know, the only thing that’s changed for us is that you should know I’m yours. Everything else is the same. If you want to change things, then you’re going to have to tell me, but everything other people think relationships have to be…none of that applies to us. We get to make our own rules, because this is our relationship. If being married to you means we never fuck anyone but each other? That’s fine. And if it doesn’t,” Jack added with a grin, “that’s fine too. Talk to me, baby. Tell me how you want this to work. I’m open to suggestions, because I intend to spend the rest of my life with you and for that? I’m going to have to be flexible. Okay?”

  Channon breathed out, relieved. “Okay. I love being engaged to you. I want you to be happy…and I want to be happy too. So. I guess let’s not change anything yet, not unless we talk about it first.”

  Jack kissed him on the nose. “That,” he said, “is probably how healthy relationships work. So let’s do that.”

  ❧

  Dinner was good. Channon liked it when Jack called him sweetheart in front of the server, and after dinner Jack introduced him to a couple he’d met skiing—two men, older than Jack, both wearing wedding rings. One of them teased Channon good-naturedly, and Channon basked in it, for once enjoying being the center of attention.

  Neither of them knew who Jack was. They were just two nice guys who liked it that two other guys were getting married. “Kicking against the straights,” one of them said, but the other one shushed him.

  “He thinks he’s so counterculture,” he said, smiling at his husband. “I keep telling him: when you’re management, you are the man, but he refuses to accept it.”

  “Says the guy who won’t do Pride anymore because it’s too commercial.” They exchanged fondly exasperated looks, and Jack chuckled.

  “I don’t think my getting married has anything to do with heterosexual marriage,” he said, stroking the back of Channon’s hand, “except in as much as it’s something society programmed me to think was important. Mostly, it’s about Channon. I want people to know how I feel about him. And this is the strongest possible message I can send.”

  Channon felt his face heat and buried it in Jack’s shoulder to hide his feelings.

  The other couple cooed at him. It wasn’t as bad as he’d have thought.

  They went back to their room, and Jack worked muscle rub into Channon’s aching legs. Channon accepted it, despite the smell. Jack’s hands on him were strong and possessive, and he liked it when Jack rubbed him with anything at all.

  “I love you,” he said, and Jack hummed in agreement, pressing his knuckles into Channon’s flesh. “I want everyone to know too.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Should I…tell people? Is that a thing I should do?”

  “You should probably tell your mom, and maybe your dad. Kim might want to know.”

  Channon sighed. “And Ben. I mean, I didn’t tell him about the gay thing for ages. I kinda owe him.”

  “You’re still calling it ‘the gay thing’?” Jack asked, in such a neutral tone that it set Channon’s hackles up.

  “What?” He twisted around to look Jack in the eye. “Is it bad?”

  Jack shrugged, rubbing his hands together. “It’s dismissive. It suggests you don’t really feel like you are gay. Which is fine, of course. I just wondered if you’d ever come to a conclusion on that. Sexuality is fluid,” he added, settling into what Channon thought of as ‘hot professor’ mode, “and what other people might think qualifies you to have one label or another is irrelevant. But if you’re marrying a man, people are going to think you’re gay.”

  It wasn’t something Channon really thought about. “I am gay,” he said. “I’m not ashamed of that. I just don’t like making a big deal out of it because…”

  Because it had been such a big deal at the time. And it would probably be a big deal every single time he told someone who didn’t already know, and he wished it wouldn’t. He wished he could just say it one time and have it over with.

  “Because it’s not,” Jack finished for him.

  Channon nodded. “It’s not as big a deal as the rest of it. You. Kinky stuff. Everything.”

  “Well, that’s fair enough. Go on calling it ‘the gay thing’ if that makes you happy.”

  “Does it make you unhappy, Sir?”

  Jack smiled. “Sweetheart, you make me happy. That’s all I could ask for.” And he made Channon lie down again to rub along his spine.

  ❧

  Channon woke to a dead phone and sore legs, but he was up with the dawn and raring to go. “I’ve only got one more day of snow,” he told Jack. “I wanna make the most of it.”

  Jack laughed and encouraged him, opting instead for a leisurely breakfast in bed. Channon swallowed a coffee and a toasted bagel, kissed his fiancé goodbye, and was out the door with the sun still peeking over the horizon. It looked like a beautiful day, and he was going to wring every last bit of it dry.

  He spent the morning skiing, tracked Jack down for lunch and flirting, and met up with Dean in the afternoon for another snowboarding session.

  “Reckon I saw you on Twitter this morning,” Dean said, offering Channon a fist bump.

  “What? I’m not really on Twitter.”

  Dean shrugged. “Whatever. You up for a challenge?”

  His grin was infectious. “You got something for me?”

  Dean’s challenge involved jumps. Channon was intimidated for all of ten minute
s before he got caught up in it. Fuck, he’d missed this, reckless physical activity that made him feel alive. It was kind of the same way he loved being tied down and railed—both of them took his body to a physical limit and tested that limit until he was wiped out. Snowboarding, though, was a lot more dangerous.

  It was weird to think it. Most people probably thought letting a guy tie you up and flog you was dangerous, but given the necessary safety precautions, Channon was far more likely to break a leg snowboarding than he was to choke out during rough sex.

  When Dean had worked him over, he gave Channon a hug. “Unprofessional,” Channon teased, hugging him back.

  “Yeah, well. Maybe I’m regretting not getting that call last night.”

  Channon blinked, and for a moment he thought about it. What Jack and he had played with yesterday. The whole idea of it. Was that what being married to Jack would be like? Channon meeting a guy he was attracted to and bringing him home so Jack could watch them fuck?

  Some of that must have been written on his face because Dean’s grin ratcheted up a notch. “Yeah? You thinkin’ about it?”

  “I don’t know if we’re ready for that,” Channon said, knowing it wasn’t true.

  Dean sighed. “Too kinky for your old man?”

  It was too funny. “Uh-huh,” Channon said, trying to keep a straight face. “He’s kinda traditional.”

  “Pity. ‘Spose there’s no point giving you my number.”

  “My phone’s dead. But I’ll give you mine.”

  Dean put it in his contacts, and then he said, “Hey, you sure this isn’t you?” And he pulled up Twitter, showing Channon a thread.

  It started with a dim silhouette of two people in the woods, one of them crouched at the other one’s feet. The caption read, Pretty sure my uncle’s proposing to his boyfriend rn <3 :O

  There was another one, of the standing figure leaning down to kiss the other. Pretty sure he said yes <3

  And finally, an unmistakable photo of Jack and Channon the morning after Christmas. Channon had his left hand on his chest, the ring on his finger visible. He was looking up at Jack like Jack was the best thing in the world, and Jack looked so happy it was almost painful.