by GA Hauser
“You gorgeous fucker,” Tyler hissed quietly.
“I’m sorry. Let me go.”
“I don’t want to ever let you go.”
At the pain in Tyler’s voice, Jordon met his gaze again. Jordon had somehow found deeper agony than what he had managed on the grueling hill climb program.
“Tyler,” Jordon whispered in a very soft voice. He was released.
They sat up and stared at each other. Jordon was so attracted to the entire package Tyler offered, he had no idea what to do. Not just Tyler’s great looks, but Tyler’s edge, his playfulness, his humor, his laughter… his scent. Christ, why was his scent so fucking intoxicating? “Let’s go shower.” Jordon rose, reaching his hand down.
Tyler took it, allowing Jordon to haul him up.
Jordon draped Tyler’s towel around his neck and did the same to his own.
“See ya, Alejandro.” Jordon waved.
“Have fun, you two.”
In silence, they made their way back to Jordon’s door. Once Jordon let them in, he escorted Tyler to a spare bathroom. “Here ya go, buddy. It should have everything you need.” Jordon opened a cabinet. “Shampoo, towels, razors… it’s stocked. Help yourself.”
Tyler held Jordon back from leaving. “How inappropriate would it be for me to just tell you how amazing I think you are?”
Jordon tried to lighten up the mood. “Very?”
“Can I say it anyway?”
“Didn’t you already?” Jordon knew they should kiss. It was what would come next if this were a movie. All the silly banter, the shared triumph of the workout, the attraction… yes, the next move was a kiss. But this was not Hollywood. This was reality; his wedding planner, and the reason he was in Jordon’s life was because he was planning a wedding. A wedding! A fucking marriage! Jordon! Leave the room now! Run. Don’t do this.
The grip on his arm softened. They both looked away from each other. “I’ll… uh…”
“Yes. Okay.” Tyler nodded, backing up.
“So, when you’re done, just hang out and wait for me, or get a drink. Seriously, raid the fridge, okay?”
Tyler didn’t reply. Instead, Tyler bit his lip and nodded, not looking at him.
***
The minute Jordon left the bathroom, Tyler reached out for the sink to steady himself, gazing down at his sweat-soaked spandex shorts. His erection stood out from his body like a beacon of his attraction. And there was no way Jordon could have missed it. Tyler yanked them down and raised his tank top off his head, then reached into the marble shower stall and turned on the water. He was dazed.
Finally under the cleansing spray, Tyler couldn’t resist grabbing his cock and jacking off, moaning at the longing he had for this unavailable, spoken for, about to be married, incredible man.
***
Jordon gasped as he recovered. Still milking his cock, he closed his eyes and relived pressing his chest against Tyler’s and the look of desire in those baby blues. He wanted Tyler -- and it was beginning to become obsessive. On one hand, he could make the argument that he had to make sure he was ready for marrying Fawn. On the other, he knew this attraction was impossible and wrong. So wrong it was making him crazy with illicit yearning.
No! I promised myself no more jacking off over this guy! Jordon moaned in self-reproach. Why couldn’t he stop himself? It was getting to the point where he needed the release every time he thought of Tyler or had contact with him. Jordon was not the kind of guy to masturbate constantly. This was so unlike him that he was struggling with himself over it and losing the battle to restrain his urges. He couldn’t keep justifying it, telling himself just this one, no, one more time. No.
It seemed suddenly it was all he was capable of doing, getting off thinking about Tyler.
“I’m nuts. What am I doing with my life?” Jordon stared down at his limp dick in anger. “Stop. No more. That’s the last time.”
He shut off the water, drying himself. Jordon tossed the towel over the rack and slipped on a pair of soft, faded jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. After finishing his routine of brushing his hair, rolling on deodorant, and moisturizing his skin, he took a last glance at his reflection and tried to alter the expression of doubt and worry that was so obvious on his face. Inhale. Exhale. Calm yourself down. He’s just a man who’s planning your wedding. No big deal, Jordon. Relax. You’re friends. That’s it.
Finally willing himself to get the hell out of his bedroom and confront the man who he'd been having a climax over a few minutes ago, he found Tyler looking tantalizing at his kitchen table in black slacks and a black short-sleeved, V-neck shirt. His briefcase was splayed open in front of him to the plethora of wedding information and business cards.
“Can I get you a drink, Tyler?” Jordon convinced himself he just needed to move on, act casually.
“Water would be great.”
“Coming up.” He removed two bottles of spring water from the fridge. “How about food?”
“Don’t go to any trouble.”
“No trouble.” He set the water bottles on the table. “I can whip up something quick.”
Tyler unscrewed the cap on his water. “Whip up? You cook?”
“I do.”
“Impress me, Buck.” Tyler grinned, gulping the water.
“It’s a deal.” Jordon dug through his food supplies, trying to come up with something special. “Feel free to talk to me. I’m an expert at multi-tasking.”
“What can’t you do?”
At the irony, Jordon mumbled, “What I want to do most.”
“Oh?”
“Never mind. Talk to me about weddings.” Jordon removed fresh boar sausages from the refrigerator and sliced up yellow and red peppers, sweet Vidalia onions, and garlic.
“You said Fawn’s up for anything we suggest except the food menu and her wedding gown.”
“Correct.” Jordon set out a pan, drizzled it with olive oil, and lit the burner.
“Does that mean anything I recommend is good with you?”
“Yes.” Jordon diced up the vegetables and tossed them into the sizzling heat.
“You realize that already smells divine.”
Jordon chuckled to himself, adding the slices of sausage in with fresh basil and seasoning.
“Right.” Tyler seemed to be trying to focus. “Do you want a video?”
“No.” Thinking of Tyler’s -- Suck it Deep, Play Toys, Bottom Up, Young and Listless -- Jordon diced up stewed tomatoes, adding them to the pan and covering it.
“Just a wedding album?”
“Yes.”
“Any size?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Wall photos?”
“You decide.” Jordon poured two glasses of merlot, setting them on the table near the water, then began cutting up a salad.
When it became silent, Jordon spun back to Tyler. “You got quiet.”
“Do you two just not give a shit, or are you simply very open about my input?”
“Why?” Jordon rinsed the romaine and tore big chunks of it into a bowl.
“Usually… and now I’m just talking typical wedding stuff here, Jordon…”
“Yes?” He laughed, slicing up a cucumber and some red onion.
“Most couples are very particular about their wants and needs. They haggle, change their minds, insist on odd things that are not usually included. So, what’s the deal? Is it apathy?”
“Ouch!” Jordon narrowed his gaze at him. “Apathy?”
“I thought you cut yourself. Did you?”
“No. I’m cringing at your comment.” Jordon mixed up an oil and vinegar dressing and set the salad and the carafe on the table.
“I’m sensing a lot of ‘don’t give a shit’ from both of you.”
“You sure it’s not just ‘too busy and don’t know’?” A big billow of steam rose when Jordon lifted the lid to stir the sausage and peppers. He checked a slice of meat for doneness.
“Am I sure?” Tyler sipped the wine.
“I’m asking you that question.”
Jordon filled two plates, bringing them over to the table.
“Holy shit.” Tyler gazed down at the food. “I’m in love.”
Jordon smiled modestly. “Would you like bread?”
“No. This is fine. More than fine. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom.” Jordon grated the reggiano on all the food, including the salad.
“You realize how much I hate Fawn?” Tyler took a taste. “Mm… Jesus, Jordon.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“You made it in like two seconds.”
“Maybe three. I didn’t count.” He moved the salad bowl toward him. “Take some.”
“Look, if this thing doesn’t work out with her, will you marry me?”
Jordon caught his impish grin. “A gay man marry? Be loyal? Ha.”
“Hey. We can be.” Tyler shook the salad dressing bottle and poured it on his lettuce.
“Sure you can, Mr. Holliday. And yesterday was the day that I was born.” He dished out his own salad.
“What makes you think gay men can’t be monogamous?” Tyler moaned as he ate.
“Because. Sex is too available. There’s a hot-looking stud on every corner offering blowjobs.”
“So? Just because it’s on offer doesn’t mean you take it. You think I took every offer I had? Give me a break.”
“And now?” Jordon chewed his food, staring at Tyler.
Shyly looking at his plate, Tyler replied, “I’m holding out for something really special.”
“Holding out?” Jordon laughed. The angry look Jordon received startled him. “How can you hold out? Come on, Tyler.”
“I have no interest in convincing you of my social ethics. It’s irrelevant between us.”
Jordon wished it weren’t and pushed the issue. “If it were relevant -- how would you convince me you’d be loyal and not open your zipper to every muscle-bound hunk who knelt before you?”
“I couldn’t convince you.”
“Figures.” Jordon snorted in contempt.
“It takes trust, Mr. Buck. Trust, love, respect. All the things that make two people an exclusive couple. Perhaps it’s what you have with Fawn. Deep, adoring devotion. Undying love and honesty.”
About to choke at the fallacy, Jordon finished chewing first before he met Tyler’s eyes. “No one has that. It’s the stuff of dreams and fairy tales.”
Tyler appeared genuinely surprised. “Are you telling me you and Fawn don’t feel that way for each other? And you’re getting married?”
“Look how shocked you look. Come on, Tyler. Marriage isn’t for the prince and princess anymore. It’s just a decision you make when you’re ready to stop the endless search.”
“Please don’t tell me you believe that.”
“Why? Has planning weddings turned you into a romantic, Tyler?”
“Yes. It’s better than being the cynic you’ve become. How can you even consider marrying someone you aren’t madly, head over heels in love with?”
“Head over heels? Who the hell gets head over heels? Are you talking reality or Hollywood?” Could Tyler be that naïve?
“If that special person comes into my life, I’ll know it.”
“Will you? How? Will bells ring? Angels sing?”
“Maybe you just know.”
“You sound like my mother.” Jordon stopped eating to stare at him. Tyler had a strange smile on his lips. “Fine. When you figure it out, will you tell me?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Jordon felt completely disoriented by Tyler’s impish grin. “Good. I think.”
“I never would have believed a man as powerful as you had lost your conviction. Everything to you is ‘maybe,’ ‘possibly,’ ‘I think.'”
“What the hell do you want from me?” Jordon grew annoyed. “I work hard. I try my damn best to be happy, to be a good person. I don’t do anything illegal. I’m tolerant. What the hell more can anyone ask of me?”
“Nothing.”
“Good. Now shut up and eat.”
“I have one last question.”
“Shoot.”
“When it’s quiet and you’re all alone, what do you ask of yourself, Jordon?”
Again Jordon met Tyler’s gaze. The secret knowledge there petrified him. “Unfair. You’re cheating again.”
A low, rumbling laugh came from Tyler. “All’s fair in love and war.”
“Oh? Which are we in?”
“That’s another good question to ask yourself. Do it while you’re staring at my nude photo.”
“Tyler!” Jordon was terrified by the comment. His heart raced.
“Sorry. Pushed one line too far.” Tyler raised his hand in surrender. “I’ll wash up.”
“No. Just get this wedding crap done. I’m exhausted.”
“Now it’s wedding crap. Man, this ceremony just drips of love.”
Jordon rose up in anger. “Don’t do this. Don’t make this some kind of battle between us.”
“One question answered,” Tyler replied smugly. “War.”
Jordon was spent emotionally. He set the dish in the sink and propped himself up on the counter. “Look. Just make all the decisions yourself. Don’t worry about budget, just keep it under a hundred grand.”
Tyler choked. “A hundred grand? What the fuck do you want, gold confetti?”
Jordon spun around to him. “I trust you to make it a nice party.”
“Good. Trust is a good thing.”
“Stop playing that game.”
Tyler rose up and approached Jordon menacingly. “What game, Buck?”
“Like there’s something between us,” Jordon growled. “Stop it!”
“What’s between us?” Tyler asked. “I’m your wedding planner, Jordon. What do you think is going on here?”
“Nothing! All right?” Jordon dug his hands through his own hair in frustration.
“Fine. If nothing is going on, why are you so angry?”
Falling apart, Jordon covered his face in shame.
“Baby…” Tyler touched his shoulder in comfort.
Jordon jerked away from him. “Go.”
“Jordon?”
“I said go!”
Without another word or glance, Tyler folded his briefcase, stuffed it into his gym bag, and stormed to the door.
After it slammed shut, Jordon slid down against the cabinets to the marble floor and hid his face. He wished he could cry. He never was any good at it.
***
“Taxi!” Tyler flagged down a yellow cab. After he told the driver his address, Tyler mumbled, “Stupid son of a bitch. You don’t know what the fuck you want. You think you want this wedding? Fine. I’ll make you a fucking wedding. I’ll spend your money, I’ll fill a hall with flowers and guests. Fine. You stupid moron. How fucking blind can you be?”
***
Still slumped over, trying not to think, Jordon groaned and made it to his feet when the phone rang.
“Hello.” He looked at the mess he’d left in the kitchen in dismay.
“Guess what I got in the mail?”
“I don’t give a shit, Bryan.”
“Two triple-X videos; Bottom Up and Young and Listless. Yum, yum, starring… hmm, oh, that’s right! Tyler M. Holliday.”
“Get lost.”
“Want me to come over? Want to watch him in it?”
“No. Go away.”
“Jordon? What the hell’s wrong? You know, the last time we spoke you sounded horrible, too. I’m beginning to worry about you.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Jordon! I’m coming over. What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t come over. I can’t face you or anyone else.”
“Fuck you. I’m on my way.”
When the line disconnected, Jordon shouted, “Bryan! Bryan?” Jordon redialed and heard him pick up. “I said, don’t come here.”
“Shut up. I’m already flaggin
g down a cab.”
“I don’t want you here. Are you that stupid?”
