Heat Stroke

by Bailey, Tessa

  Jamie leaned down and scanned the page, reading off the names Marcus had come up with. “Hangover Cure, Fight the Flu, Berry Boost, Post Workout Replenishment…Sex Machine?”

  “That one has pineapple in it.” Jamie gave him a blank look and Marcus’s jaw dropped. “It makes your spunk taste better. You didn’t know this? Do you have any idea how much pineapple I’ve been drinking for you, babe? Nice of you to notice my efforts.”

  “Where did you come across this science?”

  “The internet told me.”

  “Of course it did.” Jamie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have tastebuds in the back of my throat, Diesel.”

  Marcus’s grin was so huge, it hurt his face. “Aww. You calling my cock huge? All’s forgiven.” He reached down to adjust his ever-present erection, giving it a little extra squeeze for being such a champ. “Hey, Jamie. Do they make dick cages? Is that a thing?”

  Jamie slowly looked up from the menu. “A couple weeks ago, you were watching straight porn. What rabbit hole have you fallen down?”

  “So it is a thing?”

  “Everything is a thing.”

  Marcus turned toward Jamie, leaning a hip against the counter. “Because I was thinking, someday when we start going out in public together, I’m going to need to get my wood problem under control.” He reached down and fisted his cock through his pants. “Any time we’re in the same room, it turns into the fucking Washington Monument. How am I supposed to take you anywhere respectable?”

  Jamie’s gaze tracked upward from his hand, over his stomach, ending on Marcus’s face. “So your solution is a cock cage?”

  “Well I could beat off before we go out…” He waggled his eyebrows. “But we both know I’ll just be hard again in fifteen minutes.”

  “More like five.”

  “You’ve now complimented my size and stamina. Is it my birthday?”

  “Oh my God. You’re actually insane.”

  Marcus reached over and traced his thumb along Jamie’s lower lip. “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about sex. Not like this. Not without making stuff up or feeling awkward or even lying to myself. You do this for me.” He leaned in and kissed Jamie softly. “And Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ve got a nice big dick, too.”

  A laugh puffed out of Jamie’s mouth. “Happy birthday to me. Apparently I need to start drinking pineapple juice, though.”

  Marcus touched their tongues together. “Nah, you taste so fucking good, I assumed you were already drinking it by the gallon.”

  Jamie moaned low in his throat. “If we don’t start making juice…”

  “Say it.”

  “Not a chance, Diesel.”

  “Fine, I’ll take one for the team. If we don’t start making juice…”—he closed his hand around Jamie’s bulge, massaging it—“…you’re going to start making juice.” Marcus laughed when Jamie cringed. “Come on, you were thinking it. You’re gross just like me.”

  “Jesus Christ, I was thinking it. You’re clearly rubbing off on me.”

  “Literally.”

  A laugh escaped Jamie before he could lock it up. He banged a fist on the counter, seemingly to make up for displaying his amusement. “Juice. Now.”

  Marcus couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He’d made Jamie laugh and they were spending the night together at his place. Cock cages were a thing. All was right with the world. “Fine.” He reached down and took some more containers out of the refrigerator. “Since I already know how to make these recipes, I thought I’d teach you. Just in case…”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. “In case what?”

  Self-consciousness dried out his mouth. “In case you ever wanted to be here, helping me. I know you’re busy and you’ve got seventeen jobs, but, uh…this place doesn’t just feel like mine. It feels like ours—”

  Jamie stopped his ramble with a hard kiss, before giving him a second softer one with just enough tongue to make Marcus’s balls tighten up. “Show me how to make the juice,” Jamie rasped. “I want to learn so I can help.”

  “Thanks,” Marcus whispered, moving to stand behind Jamie, both of them facing the counter where one of the industrial-sized juicers sat in the midst of all the fruit and vegetable containers. “All right, let’s start with the Hangover Cure. Beets, lemon, apple, ginger. Or BLAG. That’s how I remember it.”

  “That’s probably how it tastes, too.”

  Marcus laughed into Jamie’s shoulder. “Maybe so, but it works.” He put his mouth to his boyfriend’s ear. “Just follow the recipe on the paper. Two beets, two apples, half a lemon…”

  Jamie growled and moved back that crucial inch to settle his ass into the curve of Marcus’s lap. “I assume you’re going to have a laminated recipe list?” Jamie asked in a rough voice.

  Marcus slid his hand along Jamie’s hip, around to the flat of his stomach. “Discussing office supplies makes you hot, doesn’t it?”

  “God, yeah.” Jamie stuffing the ingredients to the juicer. “Talk file storage to me.”

  They both laughed. “Add a little bit of ginger now. Like half an inch.”

  Jamie did as he was instructed, then Marcus’s free hand guided Jamie’s to the black plastic food pusher, both of them applying pressure and forcing juice out through the spout, a gentle whirring sound filling the space. “This is exactly like that scene from Ghost,” Marcus said. “When Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore are making that ceramic pot.”

  Jamie’s body vibrated against him and Marcus savored the proof of his laughter. “If I die prematurely, please leave Whoopi Goldberg alone. I don’t need to be haunted by you in death as well as life.”

  “I’m Swayze in this scenario. And you never minded me haunting you, babe.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Jamie sighed. “There’s a good mix of sweet and savory options on the menu, Marcus. The names are clever. You did a really great job planning it out.”

  “Thanks, Jamie,” Marcus said, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. “For taking juice seriously, even though it’s just juice. For everything.”

  His boyfriend didn’t respond, simply turning off the blender and pouring it into one of the disposable Dixie cups they were using while waiting for the branded supplies to arrive. Jamie turned, holding the cup to his mouth, and Marcus waited anxiously for the verdict.

  “That’s annoyingly good,” Jamie muttered, licking a stray drop from the corner of his lips. “I thought the ginger would be overpowering, but it’s invigorating.”

  “You talk pretty.”

  Amusement twinkled in Jamie’s eyes. “You want a sip or are you sick of it?”

  Marcus took the cup, plans forming in his head and making his muscles tighten. Making the fly of his jeans stretch to accommodate the growth of his erection. “Yeah, I’m a little sick of this recipe. I was thinking I could taste it a different way.”

  Jamie’s chest started to rise and fall faster. “What way is that?”

  Without taking his eyes off Jamie, Marcus lifted the other man’s shirt and exposed his abdomen. He set down the juice and dipped his finger in, tracing a wet path from Jamie’s belly button to the waistband of his jeans. Then he got down on his knees and licked it off slowly, so slowly, savoring the mixture of juice and man. His man.

  Jamie’s jeans were still unfastened from earlier, leaving only his zipper to tug down and Marcus did that now, before adding more juice to his fingertips. He used his teeth to pull Jamie’s boxers down low and smeared the fruity-smelling liquid in the center of the low, muscular V of Jamie’s hips. “Let me suck you down before you go out.” Marcus closed his mouth around the trunk of Jamie’s cock through the material of his underwear, creating a wet spot with the condensation from his hot breath. “I want you satisfied if you’re going to be away from me.”

  “Marcus,” Jamie breathed, fingers threading into Marcus’s hair. “That’s not how this works. Not how I work. You’ve had me on the fucking edge
all summer and I couldn’t even think of letting someone else touch me.”

  “You’re mine, Jamie,” he growled.

  “I know.”

  Marcus was on the verge of yanking Jamie’s jeans down to his ankles when there was a knock on the door of the shop. He stood so fast, dizziness rocked him. And when he saw Joey on the other side of the glass, the disorientation only intensified. “Jesus. It’s my brother.”

  A split second before Joey cupped his hands around his eyes and peered into the shop, Jamie dropped down behind the counter. Out of sight.

  “J-Jamie, no,” Marcus said, but when he should have pulled Jamie back to his feet and faced the music, telling his brother everything, he only stood frozen in place. “I didn’t know he was coming. I’ll just get rid of him, okay? Hold on. Just wait. Just hold on.”

  “Marcus,” Joey called outside the shop, knocking again. “What are you doing? Come let me in.”

  “Hold the fuck on,” Marcus shouted back, his pulse spiking, lungs full of cold air. When he looked down at Jamie, his pants had been refastened. Whereas mere minutes ago, Jamie had been smiling at him, laughing, telling him there was no one else, his expression was now shuttered. Distant. “Jamie…”

  “Listen, I’ll just go out the back door,” Jamie said, plowing a hand through his hair.

  “No. Christ, please don’t do that.”

  “What’s my other option?” Jamie asked without looking at him, before taking a visibly calming breath. “Look, I fucking knew what I was signing on for. It’s…fine.”

  “It’s not fine. It’s the furthest thing from fine.”

  Silence ticked past as they stared at each other. There was another, louder knock on the door. And Marcus watched in horror as Jamie moved in a crouch to the back door and slipped out into the alley running behind the building.

  That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen.

  With his blood pumping in his ears, Marcus walked in slow motion to the front door and used his key to let Joey in, though his hands were moving without his brain’s consent, because his mind was fully occupied. I should go after him. I should go after him. I just made the man I love sneak out of the shop we built together because I’m a fucking coward.

  “Hey man,” Joey said, socking him in the shoulder. “Took you long enough. Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  “No,” Marcus answered, his voice hollow. “It’s just me.”

  “Come on. I interrupted something dirty, didn’t I?” Joey poked him in the ribs. “I knew this shop would be a freaking chick magnet. You’re not even open yet and you’ve got women crawling all over the place. What is she, a blonde? Redhead?”

  “There’s no woman.”

  “Come on—”

  “I said, there’s no fucking woman, all right?” Marcus shouted, positive his heart was rupturing. All he could see was Jamie slipping out the backdoor into the sunlight. Over and over. “What are you doing? Why did you come here?”

  “Easy, man,” Joey said, rearing back, his expression wounded. “You haven’t even shown me the fucking place yet. I just wanted to come see if you needed any help.”

  Marcus’s head dropped forward, guilt needling him in the gut. It wasn’t like Joey had hurt Jamie directly. That was on Marcus. “Sorry. Look, I’m…just stressed out.”

  Joey’s hand landed on his shoulder in a rough squeeze. “All right. No big deal.” He let go of Marcus and clapped his hands. “The place is even better than I expected. You done good, kid. What can I do?”

  Numbness was rapidly spreading to all of Marcus’s limbs, a product of his damaged heart sending his system into shock. A blessing. A curse, because he knew he didn’t deserve to feel anything but pain. Where was Jamie? Was he okay? “I’m done here for the day, man,” Marcus managed. “But thanks anyway. I appreciate you wanting to help.”

  Silence passed. “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Marcus rasped.

  Joey nodded and backed toward the door. The next time Marcus looked up, his brother was gone and several minutes had passed. He took out his phone and called Jamie, a weight dropping in his stomach when there was no answer. Jamie didn’t pick up his next call, either. Or the one after that. Done. Was it over?

  On his fourth call, he left a voicemail, though he suspected it was useless.

  Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just wish so fucking much that never happened. Will you still wait at my place tonight, please? After your dinner? I know I don’t deserve you to walk through my door or even listen to this message, but I’m a selfish, horrible prick and I’m going to be a mess until you’re standing in front of me. I’m always going to be a mess until you’re with me. So there it is. Please be safe tonight. Like extra extra safe. Okay? Bye.

  Much later that night, Marcus sprinted up the stairs to his apartment and almost pulled the door off the hinges to get inside.

  But Jamie wasn’t there.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jamie glanced over at the white takeout container perched on the seat beside him and rolled his eyes. Might as well admit it. He was a glutton for punishment.

  He was also late. Really fucking late.

  The faculty meeting had gone on long, as they tended to do, conversation turning from school news to summer vacation plans to the challenges of raising small children of their own—and all the while, the drinking continued until Fran, their resident geometry teacher, had burst into tears and told everyone she’d left her husband and filed for divorce because of his World of Warcraft addiction. Of course, Jamie had been blessed with the extraordinary luck to be sitting beside Fran and was subsequently dragged to a neighboring bar to hear every sordid detail.

  Before Jamie knew it, two hours had passed and he’d still had an hour-long train ride back to Long Beach ahead of him. There was no way he’d make it to Marcus’s apartment before him—it was already one thirty in the morning—but he’d brought a peace offering. Not just for being late, but also for ignoring the man’s phone calls.

  Not answering had been an immature reaction, but sue him if sneaking out of his boyfriend’s juice shop with a pair of blue balls hadn’t stung his pride. Even now, the walls of his throat constricted thinking about how much he’d wanted the ground to open up and swallow him in that moment. There Jamie had been, after years of dating men openly and refusing to be ashamed of who he was…literally hiding behind a counter so he wouldn’t get caught. His face still stung as if he’d been slapped.

  Yet, he would go to Marcus tonight. For three reasons.

  One, he’d meant what he said. He’d known damn well what he was getting into by dating Marcus in secret. He’d fucking known. Walked into it with eyes wide open.

  Two, he’d promised to give Marcus time. As in, more than a week.

  And three, goddammit, he loved the man.

  Yeah, there was no denying love was the biggest motivator here. Every second of his night had been spent missing that giant son of a bitch. Okay, maybe a few minutes in the bathroom had been spent Googling cock cages, but most of the night had been about missing Marcus. Getting out of Long Beach for the night had been a good idea, however. While Fran detailed her husband’s descent into the virtual lifestyle, he’d been putting the situation with his boyfriend into perspective.

  Look how far Marcus had come already. It wasn’t fair for Jamie to put any further expectations on Marcus when—in the space of a few weeks—he’d come out to Jamie, confessed his feelings and frankly, been an incredible boyfriend.

  When they were alone.

  So it smarted a little when Marcus fist bumped him in the Castle Gate, as a form of greeting. Or crept out of his house before the sun came up. He was not going to be sensitive about these things. Marcus needed to get comfortable in his own skin, and learning to embrace one’s sexuality didn’t happen overnight. Whenever Marcus showed up at his door with his heart in his eyes and kissed Jamie like it had been an eternity, Jamie remembered why he was putting himself through the
hiding again. Living as if their needs and preferences were wrong.

  Because Jamie cared like hell about Marcus and if he could just push past the hurt a while longer, it would be worth every second. Not like the first time around with Chris. Jesus, Marcus couldn’t be less similar to Chris. Even if the creeping around put Jamie right back in that shame mindset, he had to believe it was temporary.

  Please let it be temporary.

  The train speaker crackled and a tired voice announced their arrival in Long Beach. Jamie picked up the takeout container and got off the train, pausing for only a beat on the platform before heading in the direction of Marcus’s apartment. He hadn’t listened to Marcus’s voicemail yet and he did so now, cursing and picking up his pace when he heard the agonized message. Why hadn’t Jamie just swallowed his pride and answered the calls?

  When Jamie entered Marcus’s building, he started to ring the bell, then remembered he had the keys. It didn’t feel right walking into his apartment without at least knocking, but he used the building key to let himself up the stairs. The smell of something cooking—was that pork?—was strong for almost two o’clock in the morning, but Jamie was too concerned about Marcus to question it. He knocked on the door as soon as he reached it—and it flew open to reveal Marcus in an apron.

  Well. An apron, boxers, and nothing else.

  “Jamie. You’re here?”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow at the steam wafting behind Marcus in the apartment. “Marcus. You’re…cooking?”

  He nodded as if in a trance. “Potstickers.”

  “What?”

  Marcus bent forward at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees. “You weren’t here when I got home and you wouldn’t answer my calls, so I was making you potstickers.” He glanced up at Jamie through one squinted eye. “This is my fourth batch. When I got it right, I was going to climb that drainage pipe that goes past your window and use them as a bribe to get in…”