Essence of Time (Stewart Realty)

by Crowe, Liz

  “But I want this,” she nodded to his cock, “in my mouth while he fucks me.” He groaned and watched as she slid her lips over it, sucked hard, then swallowed him all the way down. He grabbed her hair, slid his fingers though its dark spun silk while Blake grabbed her hips, positioned his now condom clad cock then thrust into her, keeping his eyes on Rob’s. The orgasm gripped him hard, made Rob cry out, his hips bucking and pumping against her. Blake reached over her shoulder, held out a hand and Rob grabbed it, threaded their fingers together a moment.

  Rob gasped, realizing he’d yelled Blake’s name when he came. Juliet propped her hands on the chair arm, arched her back and let Blake pound into her. Rob smiled at her, kissed her lips and slid his fingers down to her hard clit, rubbed and teased dropping down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. “Ah, oui, oui, oui!” she yelped, and coated his hand just as Blake grunted and gave a last thrust. Rob smiled, licked his way up her neck, to her lips, capturing them as Blake finished. Blake leaned down over her slim back, and met Rob’s lips over the girl’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Blake whispered, between kisses, then slipped out of her and made his wobbly way to the bathroom. Juliet stood, stretched, and fell back onto the bed, propping a foot on the bed and giving Rob a lovely show of her amazing pink sex. He tugged her to her feet, offered her a drink of champagne, and then took a drink from the neck of the bottle. Blake wandered back in, that adorable, goofy, post-orgasm look on his perfect face. Rob grabbed his hair and shoved his tongue into the other man’s mouth, needing to transmit how he felt with his lips and tongue, needing Blake to understand how deeply he needed him.

  “My love,” Blake whispered, as Rob released his lips and put the champagne bottle to them, letting the expensive French bubbly leak down the sides of his mouth. Juliet wrapped her arms around them both.

  “You guys are so fucking hot.” She giggled, nuzzling into first Blake’s then Rob’s torsos. “Come on, let’s get in the bed.”

  Blake raised an eyebrow at Rob. “You game?”

  “I was born game,” he lifted Juliet up and dropped her on the bed, then dove between her legs.

  The next morning, Blake groaned, rolled and found himself caught up in multiple arms, legs, breasts and asses. He disentangled himself, stumbled to the bathroom, emptied his bladder and stared at himself in the mirror. The ménage had been accomplished, no less than three times, and in pretty much every configuration he could imagine. But it was over and what he wanted more than anything was for the girl to go and leave him and Rob alone.

  He splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, pulled on some jeans and slipped out onto the tiny balcony, watching the last morning of his Paris vacation emerge below him. After a while, he sighed, and closed his eyes, letting the cool morning breeze ease his now crazed and heated thoughts. Rob. Damn. The man was fucking amazing. It terrified him. Complete nauseating terror enveloped him. His heart pounded, breath caught in his throat, his vision dimmed from the outer edges. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years, but he still remembered it for what it was.

  A hand on his shoulder made him jump. “Hey, relax.” Rob kissed the top of his head, slid into the small chair next to him. “Coffee?”

  “Where’s…” Blake kept his eyes trained on the street, unwilling to look at the man who had rescued him once, then again, then plucked him up and spirited him here, and turned his life inside out again.

  “She’s gone. Had to get to work.” Rob smiled, as Blake made the mistake of looking at him. His heart nearly stopped; he knew then what he had to do.

  But, Rob surprised him, and Blake would later look back on the moment on the cramped balcony as a turning point. “So, I have a proposal for you.”

  Blake sipped the strong espresso. “Well, gee honey, this is sort of sudden.” He gulped to cover the anxiety coursing through him over how much he wanted to hear the words “Live with me. Never leave me,” come from Rob’s mouth.

  “No, no, not that.” Rob sat back, crossed his ankles out in front of him. “I mean, well, not yet.” He put a hand on Blake’s arm. “Please just relax Blake. I’m not gonna bite you.”

  Blake forced himself to be calm, to listen to Rob’s soothing voice and not run back into the room and away from the intensity of his feelings. He nodded.

  “So, my friend Jack, Jack Gordon, I think you know him from, um, you know, he’s a friend of Suzanne’s too.” Blake nodded again, remembering how close he’d come to punching that know-it-all asshole in the face in a hospital hallway. “He’s found a prime location for a brew pub. He’s gonna buy the building, give me a token rent in exchange for a silent partnership.”

  “Hold on,” Blake shook his head as if to clear it. “Since when do you want to open a brew pub?” A strange sense of rightness settled over him, but he resisted it. He’d wanted something this badly once before in his life, a few years ago. Her name was Suzanne, and that had nearly killed him.

  “Since always. I’ve always wanted my own place. It’s a perfect moment.” He grabbed Blake’s hand, startling him. “I want you to do it with me, Blake. Be the brewer. I’ll do the kitchen. We can do this.” The look in his eyes was pure, raw need. Blake stood, walked back into the room. His throat tightened at images of them together, at work, at home. Together. He propped his hands on the wall.

  “I’m going for a run.” He slipped into shorts, a t-shirt and pulled his shoes on. “Need to think.”

  Their flight back was overnight so they could sleep. Blake stared out the window into the inky black sky, his hand clasped in Rob’s under the blanket as the man slept like the dead next to him. He wanted it, this, so god damned badly he could taste it. Rob’s hand squeezed his. Blake looked over and met Rob’s eyes. “It’s okay.” Rob whispered. “Think about it. Just promise me that.” Blake nodded, as he pulled Rob’s hand to his lips and kissed it before releasing him and settling back, pretending to sleep.

  They grabbed luggage, made their way out into the bright sunlight of a new day in Chicago. Blake’s throat had closed up. He knew he wouldn’t be doing it. He couldn’t. He had to cut this whole thing off now, before he fell any deeper. Swallowing hard, he put a hand on Rob’s arm as they started down the sidewalk toward the parking lot shuttle. “Hey.” He said, smiling, shoving his hands in his pockets. His ears rang with exhaustion and the onset of the heartbreak he was about to bestow. “I, um, am flattered and all but I really don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Ann Arbor.”

  Rob frowned, and Blake wanted to hold him close, to kiss away the pain starting to edge into his eyes. “Please, don’t get me wrong Rob. I had a great time. I needed this break. It was…amazing.” He sighed. “But we, I mean, you and me, it’s not gonna work.” Rob lifted his chin, clenched his jaw, set his face in hard lines.

  “So, thanks for the vacation Rob, so long? That’s what you’re saying to me?”

  Blake shrugged, held up a hand for the shuttle bus, his heart cracking into a million pieces. It had to be this way. Rob grabbed his bicep, then let go of him. Blake closed his eyes. When he opened them, Rob was gone.

  ****

  One Month Later

  Blake stared blearily at the man beside him at the bar. He’d managed to down three strong whiskeys in the last hour and a half after a long exhausting day at the brewery. He was about to get promoted; he knew it. He had not spoken a word to Rob since they’d parted ways at the airport. It was killing him. It was somehow even harder than the Suzanne thing. Deep down he’d known Suzanne was an infatuation; an obsession, which the caretaker in him had been drawn to. But the deeper feelings he had for Rob told a different story. He didn’t have a single compulsion to fix, or take care of him. He only knew that every day that went by that he couldn’t be with him, he was miserable. He yearned for him, which is why he had stayed away. He would not open himself to hurt again.

  “So,” The guy put a hand on his leg, slid it up until Blake shifted away as he sipped the brown liquor, furio
us with himself for agreeing to this date. He wanted no part of anyone but the tall, blond man with the chocolate brown eyes who haunted his dreams.

  “Yeah,” Blake stood, threw some cash down on the bar and pulled the not-bad-looking guy to his feet, planting a kiss on him that he used to drown out the images of Rob that kept invading his head. The guy groaned into his mouth, grabbed his ass and pressed an unmistakably rigid cock against Blake’s, which was struggling to rise to the occasion. They groped around a little, then Blake broke away, disgusted with himself.

  “Where can we go?” The man propped his hands on either side of Blake’s head, nipped at his lower lip. Blake felt himself responding, as he imagined the man he loved, tall, imposing, clever, and always calming.

  “My place. Let’s go.”

  Within minutes, Blake knew there was no way he was going to go through with this bullshit charade. For the last month he’d tossed, turned, stewed, steamed, self-justified himself into a frenzy. His head ached, he pounded gallons of caffeine, didn’t eat enough and was generally despondent. He sighed as the guy sucked his cock, tried to summon the necessary energy to enjoy it. Finally, he tugged him up to his feet, kissed him gently and pulled his pants back up.

  Something slipped into place then as he cupped the man’s chin and smiled. “Sorry. I, um, I need to go.”

  “Go? This is your place.” The guy frowned.

  “No. It’s not. My place is in Ann Arbor.”

  He threw some stuff into the still half-unpacked suitcase from the French vacation, his heart singing with relief. Rob. A small flurry of panic tickled the edge of his brain. What if Rob didn’t want him anymore? He had maintained strict silence for a month. Blake shook his head. He’d convince him. He had to. He was ready to start his life again.

  ****

  The three-hour late night drive invigorated him, with all the windows rolled down, music blaring in his ears. He sipped a couple of Red Bulls, tossed the cans down into the floorboards, sang at the top of his lungs for a while. Then settled into a calm mini hypnosis, picturing Rob’s face. Hoping against hope that the man wouldn’t reject him.

  It was nearly four a.m. by the time he pulled into the driveway of Rob’s small Cape Cod style house on Ann Arbor’s west side, on a street not far from where he had grown up. He got out, stretched, smiled at the sight of soccer balls rolling around on the front porch. He took a deep breath, raised his fist to knock, then stepped back when the door flew open to reveal the man he loved, clad only in a pair of shorts. They stood, staring at each other a solid minute, the creaking of crickets and the far sound of a train whistle the only noise between them. Rob put his hands on his hips.

  Blake stepped into the room, clutched the man close, poised lips over his. His eyes burned, his chest ached. He was so fucking exhausted, but he was already relaxing, taking in huge breaths of Rob’s familiar scent. Letting his presence ease him as it always did. He put a finger up, traced the man’s lips. Rob’s brown eyes glistened.

  “Yes. I will.” Blake whispered. “I love you.”

  Rob kissed him, and Blake remembered nothing else.

  Chapter Five

  Three Months Later

  Rob sat on the floor of the gigantic empty space, dangling a beer bottle between two fingers, feet propped up on an empty crate beside his friend Jack. “So. About this rent thing.” Jack chuckled, grabbed another bottle and popped the cap, took the dollar bill Rob handed him. “Already not a deadbeat tenant. I like it.”

  Rob smiled at his friend. He jumped and grabbed his phone when it buzzed. Blake had been in Colorado for over a week already, scoping out used brewery equipment. Rob was nearly mad with loneliness and lust. “Hey,” he couldn’t help the huge goofy smile he felt spread over his face. He glanced over at Jack, still clad in his expensive suit, collar and tie loosened, feet sprawled out in front of him. Blake’s deep, rough voice curled around in his head like fog.

  “Hey, I found what we need, but the deal comes with a bunch of extraneous shit we don’t need like a pilot system.”

  “I told you. You make the call, within the budget we set.”

  “Okay. I think I’ve found it then. A sweet ten-barrel brew house, five fermenters, five storage tanks. Maybe overkill, but…” the excitement in his voice made Rob’s smile even wider.

  “God, I miss you.” Rob leaned his head back against the expanse of glass suddenly overwhelmed by the entire concept of this project, but wanting nothing more than Blake, there, with him.

  “Really.” Blake’s voice sounded a little thin, stressed.

  “Yes, really. You okay?”

  “Yeah, just got off the phone with my sister. My parents are being assholes to her. She’s freaking out over some new guy she just started dating. You know how she gets.”

  One of the most endearing things about this man he’d come to love was his devotion to his family—to his sister, most especially. Their tall, fair-haired, green-eyed good looks were striking, as were their similar, high-strung personalities. Rob loved how much of a rock Blake was for Sara. Somehow, though, Rob sensed he would ultimately be the foundation for them all.

  He winced as a familiar small voice spoke in his head, one he’d relegated to the trash bin in his attempt to convince himself that he truly loved Blake. That he wanted a relationship. It snuck in, and Rob put a shaking hand over his eyes as it hatefully reminded him he might not be around for the long haul.

  He got to his feet and wandered into the cavernous space that he had to transform into something resembling a profitable business. Like, soon. “Want me to call her? Get her some food?” Sara was notorious for not eating, too lazy to fix herself much more than cereal most nights, and so deep into her new career as a real estate agent, she worked crazy hours. She was cool, if a tad self-centered, but Rob liked her and was happy to help her out.

  “Yeah, maybe. Do you mind?”

  “No of course not. I’m standing in your future brewery by the way.” He ran a hand over the rough walls, noting already how cramped it was going to be back here if Blake bought all those fermenters, not caring at all, as long as it meant Blake got back to Michigan, fast.

  “Sweet. What’s the electric load like? Drains? Water supply?”

  Rob laughed and put his forehead against the wall, his need to have Blake beside him so intense it hurt. “My love, that is all your issue when you get back. I have my own problems in the kitchen already.”

  “So, it is for real then. This whole thing?” Blake’s voice had a catch in it. Rob knew what he meant.

  “Yes Blake. It is very, very real. Now hurry and get your sweet ass home. I miss you. I’m hornier than a sailor on shore leave.” He started back out into the larger space that he had to fill with tables, chair, bar, lights, televisions, decent bathrooms, and…he closed his eyes. “I need you here.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon once I get the shipping arrangements made for the brewery equipment.” The silence stretched out some, but remained comfortable. Rob let himself relax inside it a minute before speaking.

  “We did it. The sign is ordered. I’m ordering all the tables and chairs and meeting the carpenter to start the bar tomorrow. And now I am terrified.”

  “You? Terrified?” Blake chuckled, making Rob’s skin pebble. “Now that’s a first.”

  “No,” he whispered, and then rallied. That was a conversation he was not ready to have with Blake. Not yet. “I’ll call your hapless sister, get her some food tonight. Who is the lucky dude she’s dating anyway?”

  “Some guy named Adam. I don’t know. She won’t say much more.”

  “I’ll feed her dinner anyway; see what I can pry out of her.” He stopped, watched as Jack laughed into his own phone, his elbows propped on expensive wool-clad knees. The guy was on a roll no doubt, but to where, Rob was starting to wonder. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Rob?” He stopped, finger hovering over the “end call” icon on his phone screen as Blake kept talking. “Um, I just was wondering
something.”

  “Yeah?” His heart pounded, nearly choking him. He had no idea why.

  “I thought I’d find a place, you know, uh, somewhere else so I’m not imposing on you.”

  Rob sighed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

  “Well, I mean….”

  Rob swallowed a sudden knot of fear-tinged nausea. He needed to see Blake so badly right now his whole body hummed with the residual urge to jump on a plane and meet him halfway between Michigan and Colorado. “Blake, when you showed up at my door at four in the morning I took your “yes” for more than an answer to “will you run a business with me,” okay? I don’t take this kind of shit lightly. I’ve given up on more relationships than I care to mention. Now I know why. I was saving myself for you. Now go on, get some sleep. Because I plan on keeping you awake for at least two days straight when you get back. We clear?”

  Rob clenched his fists for a minute; then relaxed, knowing Blake would feel his stress through the phone lines. A strange vision wafted through his brain at that moment , so clearly he had to suppress a gasp. A small, hand-made raft, covered in hop flowers, sailing into a Lake Michigan sunset filled his consciousness, along with a chest-crushing, mind-numbing agony. He shivered. “Good night. I love you.” He hit the end button.

  “Yo, dude, we gonna eat or what?” Jack’s voice drifted, brought him back to reality. He shook his head, looked up and saw his friend’s deep blue eyes full of concern watching him from the doorway. “You good? Still C-free?”

  Rob swallowed, realized he really did owe Blake a long conversation about that particular subject. “Yep. I only have to check with the witch doctors once a year now.”

  Half an hour later, Jack leaned back against the window and threw his napkin down on his empty plate. “Damn son, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me with this food. Holy shit. Cooking school money well spent, I’d say.” Rob tossed the remnants of the curried chicken salad, homemade croissants, cold Vietnamese spring rolls and fudge brownies back in the cooler.