String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  “This is a bill for four thousand dollars,” Hobbes said pointedly.

  Jax sighed. “Yeah, it is. I paid it.”

  “You paid four thousand dollars to not attend?”

  “Closer to twelve, total.” He shrugged, not bothering to hide the wince. “It was that or drop totally and then pay forty if I ever decided to go finish.”

  Understanding dawned on Hobbes’s face. “Jesus, that’s disgusting. This is why you’re working Sundays now?”

  “Every shift Murph’ll give me,” Jax confirmed. “Tuition’s due again in January.” No measly four grand this time either.

  Hobbes schooled his expression into careful neutrality, but Jax had known him at his lowest. Hobbes couldn’t fool him. “You know I don’t—”

  Jax raised his hand. “Don’t make that offer, please. I know you don’t, but I want to and I will. I’ll pay rent or I’ll find a new place.”

  Unhappy acceptance writ large on his face, Hobbes sighed and sank into the couch. “Jax. You were there for me when I couldn’t even get to the john by myself. Would it kill you to let me help?”

  It might. Jax’s sense of self-worth was fragile as it was. He didn’t need to grind it into dust. “You are helping,” he said instead. “You charge well below market rent. You pay all the utilities and won’t even ask me to do yard work in return.” Jax did it anyway, because he needed to have some pride, even if he hated pulling weeds. “Plus my rent includes access to a therapy animal.”

  Hobbes glanced at the Captain, who was snoring gently in front of the fireplace. “He’s a therapy animal now?”

  “I was talking about you.”

  “Of course you were.” Hobbes sighed. “Okay, fine. But if you’re going to be working seven nights a week, I’m hiring somebody to cut the grass.”

  Jax huffed, but he hated cutting the grass. He was pretty sure he was allergic to it. Every time he finished, he found himself wheezing. Besides, it was already fall; there’d only be a few more cuttings this season.

  He could make up for it raking leaves. “Fine,” he agreed.

  “Fine,” Hobbes echoed. “Great. Drink your tea.”

  Chapter Nine

  ARI WOKE up once again to unread text messages, this time with the addition of missed calls, all from his mother, wanting to know when he would be available for a dinner party. The last time he’d spoken to her, she’d suggested he take up internet dating—That’s how people your age find dates these days, isn’t it?—so he was inherently suspicious. He ignored the message and rolled out of bed to start brunch prep.

  By the time he had the fruit cut, the cream whipped, and the table set, he had just enough time to shower before Jax arrived.

  Should he have changed the sheets?

  Then again, they were just going to dirty them.

  In the end he didn’t have time to make a conscious decision. As he was buttoning his shirt, there was a knock on the door.

  Jax.

  Ari brushed his palms quickly over his jeans to smooth them out and strode toward the entryway.

  “Hi,” Jax said, smiling a charmingly sheepish smile, his head bent.

  It took Ari a moment to realize he was doing it to call attention to the shirt Ari had bought him, which he now wore. He’d guessed the sizing right exactly. It fit snugly across the chest and shoulders, and the mustache—

  Ari reached out to touch it before he could stop himself, somehow hypnotized by the ludicrous fake fur between Jax’s pectorals. Only when he had his palm flat on Jax’s chest did he realize what he was doing.

  He jerked his head up and met Jax’s gaze, an apology on his lips, but before it could gain any traction, Jax stepped into his space and kissed him.

  Brunch could wait.

  When Jax walked him backward into his bedroom, they were already half naked, tearing at each other’s clothing. Jax tripped out of his jeans, but he landed on his back on the bed, and Ari followed him down, preventing as much as helping Jax disrobe. Jax bit at his lip again, groaned when Ari tightened his hands on his hips.

  “Ari,” Jax gasped as Ari mouthed down the line of his neck, determined to gauge the color of the bruises he’d left two nights before. “You gotta do something for me.”

  Ari would write him a symphony. “Name it.”

  Jax fisted a hand in his hair—Ari’s dick jerked—and yanked until they were eye to eye.

  Then he said, “Take off your pants and fuck me.”

  Well. Ari did owe him for accidentally ghosting him, after all.

  He leaned in and kissed him, hard. “It would be my pleasure.” He untangled Jax’s hands from his hair and briefly pressed his hands into the mattress. Jax let out a delicious moan that Ari filed away for later. He knelt and undid his pants and pushed them off as quickly as he could. Beneath him, Jax wiggled out of his own clothes, and they came together again, kissing frantically.

  “Like this?” Ari asked, meaning On your back? Jax panted openmouthed in approval. Ari had never been much for talking in bed, but Jax’s reaction inspired him… and perhaps the uncharacteristic dialogue would remind him he shouldn’t form a romantic attachment. “I could bend you in half. I bet you like that, knees around your ears?” Jax pushed up into him, desperate and hungry, like he couldn’t get Ari’s dick into him soon enough. “Or,” Ari said, “maybe on your stomach or your hands and knees.” Jax dragged his nails down Ari’s back. “Me on my knees behind you, plowing into you, gripping your hips until they bruise.”

  “God yes,” Jax said fervently. “Please, that. Do that.”

  Ari didn’t need to be asked twice, but he was pretty sure Jax would do it anyway. He knelt to give Jax room to move and reached for the nightstand drawer.

  But when he returned his attention to the bed, he could barely process the image in front of him: Jax with his knees spread, the firm, round bubble of his ass pushed up for Ari’s appreciation. His skin was tanned to the waist, as though he’d spent a great deal of time shirtless out of doors over the summer, but his cheeks were cream pale. And—

  Oh God. Ari traced his fingers over the dark ink on Jax’s right cheek, which he had somehow missed in their earlier encounter. “What’s this?”

  “A story for after,” Jax promised, undulating under the touch. “You’re killing me.”

  Ari flipped the top on the lube and generously coated his fingers, then wasted no time sliding two of them deep.

  Jax arched his back on a moan, and his body yielded immediately. Ari knew logically that Jax’s temperature wasn’t any warmer than anyone else’s, but the heat around his fingers still sent a shock of lust through him. He thrust gently, mostly to distribute the lube since Jax didn’t seem to require stretching. But then he nudged Jax’s prostate and Jax’s spine went positively liquid. He made a noise that began deep in his chest and ended curled tightly around Ari’s cock, and Ari had to add another finger and make him do it again.

  Finally Jax said, “Ari. Are you going to fuck me like you promised, or do I have to do it myself?”

  Ari pressed into his prostate again—hard. Jax’s elbows buckled and he fell to them with a grunt.

  “Fuck,” Ari breathed. Jax’s ass looked even more inviting with his shoulders pressed lower. He grabbed a condom and yanked his fingers out of Jax’s ass at the same time, eager to move things forward. As he slid the condom onto his dick, Jax scrambled back onto his hands. It somewhat ruined the view, but….

  Impulsively, Ari leaned down and followed the swooping curve of the tattoo on the meat of Jax’s ass with the tip of his tongue. The design was unfamiliar to Ari but was clearly a letter of some kind. A shocked noise—part moan, part whimper—flowed from Jax, and Ari licked the design bottom to top, then, after another look at the appealing curves, bit it.

  “Oh my God, Ari.” He sounded drunk with lust and impatience. “Later you can show me everything you can do with your tongue, I promise, but please, I need—ungh!” His begging turned into incoherent moans as Ari pushed his dick i
n deep with one unerring thrust. Jax pressed his knees wider and his belly down, apparently eager to get more of Ari, faster. Fuck.

  “Bossy,” Ari admonished. He resettled his hands on Jax’s hips and assessed his balance. If he was going to give it as hard as Jax wanted, he didn’t want to fall over.

  “Only when I need to be.” Jax squirmed delightfully, perhaps in an attempt to entice Ari into movement. Or maybe he just couldn’t stay still when full of cock—he certainly couldn’t manage it at any other time. Another avenue to explore later. “Jesus, are you going to just stay there? I thought you were going to fuck me.”

  “As you wish,” Ari said drolly. With a light squeeze of Jax’s hips, he pulled out and slammed forward. Jax yowled and arched his back, trying to press into Ari’s thrust, so Ari tightened his grip and began in earnest. Now that he knew Jax could take it—loved taking it—all bets were off.

  Time blurred as Ari thrust hard and fast, doing his best to meet Jax’s many demands for harder, deeper. His elbows buckled and he fell to them a second time. The curve of his back, his trim waist, round ass, like the most beautiful violin, was a sight to behold, and Ari didn’t want to take his eyes off the flexing muscles under smooth skin, or his own cock moving in and out.

  But those shoulders made a tempting offer Ari couldn’t ignore. Shifting forward, he planted his hands on the mattress next to Jax and, once curled around him, applied his mouth to Jax’s trapezius. The soft moan-filled ahs that pushed out of Jax were music to Ari’s ears.

  He sucked hard below Jax’s jaw. Jax fell forward, and his face hit the mattress. The new angle pushed a series of turned-on moans out of him, but it didn’t allow Ari to indulge his new obsession with that delicious neck. He snaked an arm around Jax’s chest and hauled Jax with him until they were both on their knees.

  “Fuck,” Jax moaned as gravity pushed him farther onto Ari’s cock. The increased sensation deserved a reward, and Ari sucked a mark into the unbitten side of Jax’s neck as Jax squeezed down hard.

  “Jax,” Ari groaned. Retaking his hips, he began to push at a brutal pace. Jax got even louder in this position. Ari slid his hand across Jax’s chest and up under his chin, the better to get a strong hold, and Jax moaned at every touch.

  “How—how do you want to—” Ari pushed out between gasps, his thrusts erratic now. He wanted Jax there with him.

  “I’m close,” Jax gasped, which wasn’t an answer. Then Jax craned his neck and tilted his head back, his mouth open and seeking, a clear invitation for a kiss.

  Ari might be surprised by the request for something so intimate, but he wasn’t a fool. He took Jax’s lips in a filthy, panting kiss and Jax’s dick in a sloppy hand job, and Jax came, moaning into his mouth. Ari followed after, his mouth pressed against Jax’s, their moans mingling with their breaths.

  “Fuck,” Jax whimpered, a boneless sprawl across Ari’s lap. “I don’t think I can actually move.”

  Ari didn’t want to break the moment, but he figured Jax might feel drastically different about still being connected. He gently tipped Jax forward onto the bed, helping control the fall, and carefully slid his dick out. Jax sighed and burrowed his face into a pillow.

  Ari was more than happy to linger over the view, one of superb ass and defined shoulders littered with bruises. Only… would Jax want to cuddle? He hadn’t minded staying the other night, but Ari didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Besides, the condom needed tossing, and Jax would probably appreciate a washcloth.

  Ari got up to accomplish both tasks and returned to find Jax flipped over onto his back. He smiled at Ari when he returned and held up the warm cloth like a peace offering. He took the cloth and cleaned his belly and cock of the remaining evidence.

  “You know,” Jax said, shifting his hips and wrinkling his nose, “me and these sheets might need more intense washing intervention.”

  Ari snorted. “I’m happy to share my shower with you. Jointly or individually.” The sheets were a lost cause, but if they were going for round two—or three—there didn’t seem much point in stripping the bed now.

  Jax held out a hand to be pulled upright. “Well, with an offer like that.”

  ARI TURNED out to have a very nice shower and a knack for brunch. Jax could get used to both.

  “So this is where you do your composing?” He wandered over to the piano, which sat on a colorful woven rug. Ari’s living room overlooked a park, with the Thames just visible in the distance. Of course, the piano faced away from the window, so maybe he didn’t even look at it. Maybe he looked at the coordinating wall hanging, or the framed picture of the couple who must be his parents standing in front of a beautifully tiled building with the perfect high arches he associated with Persian architecture.

  “When the mood strikes me and I’m home, yes.” An electric violin and bow hung on the wall, and a conventional case sat underneath the piano, probably for a wood instrument. Jax would bet that one had some kind of humidity control. You wouldn’t just leave an expensive instrument outside of a carefully controlled climate.

  Something in Ari’s answer made Jax look up. “Trouble?” he asked.

  “Of a sort.” Ari joined him at the piano bench, and they sat down shoulder to shoulder. Jax had never played a piano this nice. The ebony wood gleamed in the light from the window. “I have an album due soon.”

  Ah. Good to know he might be disappearing into a hole for the next little while. “How soon?”

  Ari looked over, lips quirking. “I’m supposed to start recording next month.”

  Wow. October was more than half over. “So, really soon. Why do I sense a ‘but’?”

  “I expect because you’re entirely too perceptive.” Ari moved his fingers over the keys, gently coaxing out a tune that felt warm but melancholy, like a rainy summer day without your lover. “Technically I should have the songs written and greenlit by now and just be rehearsing and booking session musicians to record with. Normally I get a lot of writing done on tour. But this last tour didn’t feel like any other tour, and I didn’t get any writing done.”

  “I can see how that would happen.” Jax fumbled out a few notes, trying to follow along with what Ari was doing. “Are you having any better luck now that you’re home?”

  Ari stopped playing and watched Jax’s fingers for a moment. “Some,” he admitted. “More than I hoped for. Less than my producer would like.”

  Jax wondered what had changed. Maybe he needed different scenery, or to be around his family. Maybe he needed to decompress.

  But either way it was probably pretty personal, so Jax didn’t ask. “Will you play one for me?” he asked instead, placing his hands in his lap.

  Strangely—sweetly—this made Ari flush, though he must get asked all the time. “Ah, not yet.” He smoothed a hand over his hair—totally unnecessarily, as he’d tied it back with an elastic. “I’m… superstitious about them, I guess you could say. They’re not done yet. I let Noella put bits of one on my Instagram, but only because she insisted. To have someone hear it live….”

  “I understand. When they’re finished, though?”

  Ari flushed again—a sweet dark pink washing over brown. “We’ll see.”

  Jax nudged him in the side. “Tease.” Then he caught sight of the time. “Damn. I have to go.” He stood, relishing the slight ache in his muscles. “I have to run a couple errands before my shift tonight.”

  Gracefully, Ari stood as well. “I thought you worked Thursday through Saturday nights?”

  He’d memorized Jax’s schedule? Jax forced down a wave of warmth. It was far too soon for that. He knew better than to put the cart before the horse. “We’ve been busy lately, what with the publicity from your show and the university and college being back in session. Murph needed extra help. I was available.” And I need the money.

  “A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Ari said. Jax wondered if he was imagining the innuendo there—but what would he be implying? It didn’t make sense.

 
; “It does make having a social life a little challenging.” Jax offered a small smile as he toed into his shoes. “But there’s plenty of room at the bar if you get bored.”

  “I may take you up on that.”

  He had just enough time to hit the pet store to take advantage of the sale on Whiskas and then go home to feed the Captain before his shift.

  WHEN JAX strolled into the break room, Kayla was already there, doing her makeup. In retrospect, he might as well just have worn a sign.

  “Oh, honey,” Kayla said, turning away from the mirror. “Come here and let me look at you.”

  Jax submitted to inspection with a rueful smile. “Hi, Kayla.”

  She whistled low as she took him in from head to toe. “Great shirt, by the way.”

  “Gift from Ari.”

  “Oh?” She leaned in close to him, touched her fingers to his chin, and tilted it to the left. “And what about these?” She walked her fingers down the side of his neck, eyes sparkling. “Are these gifts from Ari too?”

  Jax grinned. “He’s very generous.”

  “Well, he’d better be.” She patted his cheek. “You deserve it, sweetie. Make sure he’s good to you or I’ll break off all his fingers one by one and feed them to him, okay?”

  “Jesus, Kayla.” Talk about a graphic threat. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t pass on that particular message.”

  “You’re no fun. Now come here.” She yanked him closer and shoved him in front of the mirror. “You can’t go out there looking like someone’s been using you as a chew toy. Someone else will think they can have a bite.” She picked up her makeup palette and dabbed foundation on Jax’s neck. “So tell me. What’s our opening number tonight, hmm? ‘I Just Had Sex’?”

  Jax snorted and tried not to squirm at the tickle of the brush. “‘Side to Side’?” he suggested. “‘Dirrty’? ‘She Wolf’?”

  “You and Christina.” Kayla tilted his head to the other side. “I can’t believe you’re neglecting Beyoncé like this. ‘Rocket’?”