by Amy Lane
“You have to want to stay,” Channing said, rubbing his cheek against Tino’s ribs. “I need you to want to stay. You don’t have to give up your dreams, Tino, but… but I need you to know what you want.”
Tino looked down at him, and most of him thought, You. I want you so badly I can’t think of a reason, a single reason, we shouldn’t already be in bed together.
But a tiny part of him remembered the degree under his belt and the original plan: pay off his student loans and walk into the world of business with his head held high and a letter of rec like a golden ticket.
Sure. That’s why he was here, talking about hiring and firing a man’s maid while he cared for his nephew.
For a letter of rec.
Channing smiled gently. “Tino, baby, I’ve got to go now.”
Tino nodded and went to take a step back. Channing caught his hand and stood. Then he stepped into Tino’s space and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb.
“But I thought I had to—”
“You do,” Channing whispered. “But you just look so sweet here in your pj’s, making me breakfast. Let me kiss you good-bye and pretend.”
His mouth on Tino’s was warm, his lips soft, the skin of his jaw as smooth as velveteen and satin. He teased the seam of Tino’s lips with his tongue, and when Tino gasped, he plundered, taking Tino’s mouth fully, cupping the back of his head with one hand and grabbing Tino’s backside and pulling them flush together with the other.
Tino moaned, raising his hands to Channing’s shoulders and squeezing tight, scary tight, needing more of that kiss, more of that pleasure, more of Channing’s tongue invading and more of that hard body searing into his.
Channing groaned and ripped his mouth away, leaning his forehead against Tino’s and emitting a semihysterical laugh.
“Think of me while I’m gone,” he panted and then mashed Tino’s mouth for a quick ravishing kiss before breaking away. “I’ll damned sure think of you.”
And then he was gone, the thermos of coffee Tino had prepared for him whisked off the table, the rumble of the car in the garage vibrating through the house.
Humping the Manny and Firing the Maid
TWO weeks later Tino was looking at the broken blinds in his room and the bent corner of the screen and wishing firing the maid was the biggest thing he had to worry about.
Channing’s hours had not gotten any less brutal, although he claimed there was an end in sight. Tino chose to believe him, partly because he couldn’t believe Channing meant to neglect Sammy for this length of time and partly because every morning, when Tino greeted Channing with coffee and breakfast, Channing kissed him.
Tino had been kissed before—had even made out at the occasional party. But no casual kisses, no drunken gropes in darkened corners, had prepared him for Channing’s open mouth on his, his hands taking increasing liberties, under his shirt, roaming his chest, and, that very morning, down the back of his sleep shorts. Tino remembered that moment and tightened his thighs together, clenching his bottom. Warm fingers kneading his backside, brushing his cleft, spreading his cheeks ever so slightly.
Tino had arched against Channing, hard and aroused, his erection pushing almost desperately against Channing’s thigh.
Channing had pulled away, panting into Tino’s shoulder. “Tino… man… this is not going away.”
“Nungh,” Tino muttered. “Does it have to be for always?” he begged. “Can’t we just… make it work for now?”
Channing had taken a step back, hurt showing like a bruise under his eyes. “So, what? I’m just the guy who relieves you of your pesky virginity and lets you walk out of his life?”
Tino recoiled, realizing how selfish that was. “No,” he said, putting his hand to his throat. “I’m sorry. It was a bad idea—”
Channing shook his head and traced fingers over Tino’s heated cheek. “Nothing is guaranteed,” he said softly. “But… but Sammy loves you, so he’s already involved.” He took another step back. “And I think maybe these good-morning kisses are hurting us—”
Tino had launched himself into Channing’s arms, begging. “No. No—don’t… don’t give up on me yet, please?”
He looked hopefully into Channing’s face, and Channing nodded. “Yeah. Okay. We can’t go backwards, can we.”
Not a question.
“No,” Tino said, tracing Channing’s temple with his own fingertips.
Channing had left then, and Tino was here, in the finally quiet afternoon, wondering what to do now.
He knew what Channing wanted—and why. Not forever, maybe, but commitment. Some sort of promise that Tino wasn’t just taking the sex as an offered convenience.
And Tino wanted….
He wanted to not waste his degree.
He wanted to not break Sammy’s heart.
He wanted to not feel tied down.
He wanted to not give up on this person—this wonderful, warm, hot, and sexy person—for the false promise of maybe something better down the road.
Oh God—he wanted to talk to someone about everything going on in his heart!
When his phone buzzed in his pocket, it felt like a message from the gods.
Tino pulled it out and saw Jacob’s name across the screen. He answered the call on a note of pure relief.
“Jakey! Man, long time no see. You want to come out and use the pool?”
“Uh… actually, yeah,” Jacob said, sounding like he was grasping at straws. “That actually sounds perfect. Actually. I think… yeah, I definitely think—can I come out there tonight?”
Tino felt dense. “You sound… weird,” he decided. “Man, Jacob, I could sure use a talk—you’re not drunk already, are you?”
“I. Wish,” Jacob muttered. “No, Tino. Not drunk. But I’ll bring the pizza and beer. You bring Sammy. We’ll eat out by the pool—it’ll be epic.”
“Yeah,” Tino said, thinking that since Mirella hadn’t cooked in four days, the pizza would be a welcome change from Tino’s narrow repertoire. “Sounds perfect.”
He hung up and looked out through his broken blinds, sighing. It was obvious that Jacob had his own problems, but that was okay. Listening to Jacob’s problems would be a sure way to get perspective on his own.
He turned away from his damaged window just as the screen—which had looked damaged as it was—fell out of the window and down the two stories to the base of the tree next to the house.
Tino glared at it way down on the ground, and then realized, oh hell, what if Sammy’s window was broken too? Hurriedly he made his way across the hall to Sammy’s room, startling Sammy by throwing open his door.
“Hey, Tino. What—”
“Nothing, buddy,” Tino said absentmindedly. “I’m just checking to see….” He strode to Sammy’s window and saw that it was still locked shut, which explained why the room was so stuffy. This week hadn’t been as hot as the two weeks previous, and as the evening shadows grew longer, Tino had turned off the air-conditioning in their rooms and tried to let some nice fresh air in.
Carefully he unlocked the window and gave a sigh of relief when he found the screen was still screwed in good and tight.
What in the… why would his screen be unscrewed?
Tino had his millionth uncharitable thought about the maid.
Should he go check Channing’s room? Should he text Channing immediately? What was the etiquette when you thought the maid had hired a cat burglar—or an assassin—and was planning to have someone climb up a tree, swing into your room, and kill you? Or steal your laptop? Or your boss’s cuff links?
Tino couldn’t decide which scenario was least likely, but he knew the one person who could answer the question.
The same bitch who’d been absent most of the day, who hadn’t made dinner, hadn’t done laundry, and whose only interest seemed to be in dusting the damned windows until they fell apart.
Okay, that was it. He was texting Chan—
His phone buzzed.
It was Chan
ning.
Hey—two questions. A. Do you have a suit and B. What are you doing tonight?
Tino stared at the phone in surprise and then tapped a reply.
A. No. I was going to buy one at the end of the summer and B. Jacob is already bringing pizza tonight for Sammy and me.
He stared at the phone for a moment, feeling absurdly disappointed, like maybe he’d failed a test he hadn’t known was coming.
Man, that’s too bad. In that case, Jen is going to be there in an hour. Be nice when she arrives, okay?
Tino tried to remember who Jen was, and then it hit him—the plus one Channing had talked about. The girl he’d dated when he’d been chasing after her brother first.
I wouldn’t dream of being mean. Were you going to ask me out to a function?
Damn suit—but all he had was the polyester thing he’d worn to church on those rare occasions his parents had gone, like Christenings and weddings and such. He’d worn it to graduation and his wrists had stuck out an absurd length.
Yeah—I can’t believe you don’t have a suit!
Well, we don’t have childcare either, so you’d be out of luck.
Another pause.
Crap. I’ll fire Mirella this weekend. Occasional childcare is in her contract—
She hasn’t even cooked for him, and so is that. I wouldn’t leave Sammy in her care anyway.
The phone rang.
“She’s not cooking anymore?” Channing sounded stressed.
“No—and barely shopping. And something else—the screen to my window fell out tonight.”
“Sammy!” There was no mistaking the panic in Channing’s voice.
“No, not Sammy’s window. He’s fine, but I don’t know about your window, or any of the other rooms in the house. I do know that for the most part, you can only get to a few windows from the tree in the yard, and mine is one of them. But I don’t know what she’d want from my room, so… you know. Maybe fire her now and then bring out the security company or something.” Although Tino had seen the guy from the security company talking to Mirella, and they’d looked pretty damned chummy. “Or maybe another security company. One where the officer in our neighborhood isn’t trying to get in the maid’s pants.”
“Are you kidding me?” Channing asked, sounding overwhelmed for the first time since Tino had met him.
“It’s a guess,” Tino admitted. “And you can’t fix it now, so don’t worry about it.”
“Tomorrow,” Channing muttered. “First thing. I won’t leave until she’s off premises and has been reported and we have someone new from your mother’s company working there. And a new security company, because you just gave me the willies. God, next week I’m supposed to move into the Sacramento offices. Long hours still, but—”
“No more two-hour commute—that’s great!” Tino understood business and that it didn’t just disappear when a person went home at night, but not having a commute was an awesome thing.
“Yeah.” Channing’s voice sank, became intimate. “Tino, I haven’t been fair to you, you know? Asking for… some sort of commitment when you haven’t even seen if I can be there for longer than an hour at a time. This morning….” He sighed. “Let’s not give up so soon, okay?”
Tino smiled, relief swamping him from the toes up. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m not ready to call it the end yet.” An end? To not ever hold Channing’s hard body against his own again? To not ever feel his mouth, the heat, the intimacy of that moment when the two of them were lost in each other?
Oh hell no.
“Thank God,” Channing said, his own relief untainted by worry or inhibition. “Good. So we have a plan—all I have to do is get through this shindig tonight and—”
A sudden thought heated Tino’s cheeks. “Were you really going to bring me?” he asked, unsure of why this made him so very happy.
“Yeah.” Channing’s soft reply was almost lost in the background noise of the Bluetooth. “I… you know. You bring a plus one so people can see the other people in your life.”
“I’m the manny,” Tino said humbly.
“You’re someone who might be in my life,” Channing said, sounding humble too. “I… you know. I’d like you to see it’s not all watching Sammy and dealing with the housekeeper who may or may not be planning the heist of the century.”
“I wouldn’t trust her to clean a cat box,” Tino said darkly. “Or a guinea pig cage.”
Channing let out a low whistle, and the sudden intimacy was blissfully gone. “That’s some serious mistrust there. We’ll have to fire her immediately.”
“Ha-ha—and by the way, we need to take Sammy shopping for more clothes. Your washing machine got rabid and ate some of this new stuff.”
“Wait, she’s not doing laundry either?”
“No.” Tino refrained from telling him that this was actually a relief. For the first time since he’d hit puberty, he was glad to be doing his own sheets.
“Augh! Okay, that’s it. I’m taking Monday off and seeing you and Sammy and taking care of my house!”
“I can clear Sammy’s schedule,” Tino volunteered. His mother used to do that—make everybody drop their rehearsal, their class, their extra overtime—and simply take care of business. Watching Channing run himself ragged made Tino a fan.
“Yeah.” Channing’s voice fell. “It’s a… a date. A family thing. I’ll see you in an hour, Tino. Save some pizza for me.”
Channing rang off, and Tino went to tell Sammy to get ready for the pool—and that they were going to have Channing for an extra day on the weekend. He thought Sammy would be happy to hear both things.
JACOB arrived right on time with two pizzas and a twelve-pack, and Tino wondered what horrible thing he’d done.
They swam for a while, and then Tino gave Sammy the “pool Legos” he’d had the boy round up so he could sit quietly and play in the water, because sometimes just being cool was the point.
While Sammy was occupied, Tino and Jacob sat at the picnic table, facing the pool, and clinked their beers together. “Sammy, you have fifteen minutes to play. Then it’s time for pizza, okay?”
Sammy looked up and nodded, then went back to his quiet imaginative play. Tino had learned that if you gave Sammy some warning, some idea of what would be expected of him, he responded much more smoothly to a game change in his day.
“So,” Tino said, “we’ve got about half an hour before Channing shows up, and his plus one—”
“The friend’s sister,” Jacob said knowledgeably. “Yeah, you told me.”
“Yeah, so anyway—”
“You go first,” Jacob prompted.
Tino grimaced. A half an hour wasn’t long. “I’m falling in love with my boss,” he said quietly, making sure Sammy’s ears didn’t grow three sizes and start twirling like little receivers.
“I’m not surprised,” Jacob said, sounding wise. “If I was gay, I’d totally want to hit that.”
Tino grunted. “I haven’t yet.”
“Yeah? Well, you should. It’s about time someone got—”
“Because it would be serious,” Tino acknowledged. Hell, it was no more than he’d said to Channing. “I… it’s not a hit-and-run, you know? Not one-and-done. We like each other and—”
“And you’ve been saving it,” Jacob told him, all the lightness dropping from his voice. “And you talk about being socially stupid, but you’re not. It’s… I mean, your sister, she’s no different. It shouldn’t be. It should be special. It should be someone important. It should be—”
Tino’s brain suddenly exploded into a thousand zaps of Oh hell no! “What about my sister?” he asked, eyes growing wide as he turned away from Sammy and looked at his friend’s face, which was growing redder in the long shadows of the evening.
Jacob showed all his teeth in what should have been a smile. “Dude, I totally love her.”
Tino dropped his face into his hands. “Jacob—”
“I mean… like, I’ll follow her to the s
tars, man. I’ll chase her to college, I’ll make a living and support her while she gets her degree. I’ll….”
“Marry her?” Tino demanded, because dude, one did not just announce his intentions to… to… deflower your sister and then not bring up the word.
“Yeah,” Jacob said, like it was a foregone conclusion. “But she’s only eighteen, Tino. We should wait a bit before marriage, you think?”
“Just as well,” Tino muttered. “Knowing her, the wedding alone is set down in God’s planner.”
Jacob scowled and rolled his eyes. “Well, God needs to find his own girlfriend, ’cause me and Nica, we’ve got plans for ourselves!”
“I just….” Jacob sighed, and for a moment they both watched the uncomplicated joy Sammy had in his imaginary people and fantastical lands. “Dude,” he said after Sammy stopped singing and started staging dialogue, “I know you’re my best friend, and I don’t ever want that to change. But she’s… me and Nica—even before Taylor broke her heart—” He changed subjects abruptly. “And you totally called that, by the way. You’ve been telling me that kid was gay for two years!”
“He was grabbing my ass for two years,” Tino complained. “It wasn’t that hard a guess!”
“Yeah, well, Nica was completely caught off-guard.” He ignored Tino’s indelicate snort and continued on. “Anyway, you know, I’ve always been sort of soft on your little sister.”
Tino pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He sighed and rested his chin on his hands. “You’re growing up,” he said.
“I know you’re afraid I’m not good enough for her, but mechanics make really good money.”
Tino could hear his mother’s voice in his head, telling him that the business his family loved was usually the hands-on kind. “My family likes that,” he said, not able to be mad. Not at Jacob. Because the truth was, if Tino was going to find someone who would worship his sister, work his ass off for her, and treat her like she was way too good for him, it would be Jacob.
“You’re… you’re okay?” Jacob’s voice crumbled, and Tino realized his friend was very near tears.
