The Swap

by Devon Rhodes

  None too soon, they pulled up in front of Keith’s house.

  Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Jim preempted him. “Go see your wife. I’m fine. Just need this day to be over. ’Kay?”

  Apparently Keith did too, since a weary nod and halfhearted wave were his only good-bye.

  After pulling in to his apartment complex, Jim hopped out at the office to grab his mail—junk and bills. Great. He passed Tommy’s truck on the way to his building. Normally, he would’ve given Tommy a ride home too, but he’d told Jim he had errands to run and had taken his own truck to work that day. Just as well. Jim wasn’t sure he could have dealt with still-employed Tommy in the truck too.

  The implications of being unemployed were starting to hit him, and the bills he’d just gotten kicked his mind into gear. Unemployment would help some, but his cash reserves weren’t as deep as usual after the huge loan to his mom last fall. The one she hadn’t even begun to pay back yet… and probably didn’t expect to.

  Shit. Mentally recoiling from the conversation he knew he’d be having with her soon, he shoved it away. Maybe next month. He had a couple months of cushion… only because he had flat-out refused the first amount she’d asked for. His retirement savings were there, but only if things got drastic, what with penalties and all that.

  Drastic might just happen. Not like there’s a lot of jobs open out there for a skilled laborer, Jimbo.

  As soon as he walked in the door, the blinking voice mail light drew his eye—but most everyone he knew just called his cell phone, and he wasn’t in the mood for a telemarketer. He tossed his severance package envelope down next to the phone and let the light blink as he headed straight for the shower, shedding clothes as he went.

  The warm water sluicing over him eventually had the desired effect of washing some of the day’s cares away, and his mind turned to more welcome thoughts—like the memory of Tommy’s lips opening over his. Alone, he could let the groan he’d pent up at the time fly as he licked the moisture from his lips, almost able to taste the flavor of the one man he’d been unable to put from his mind. The one man he’d never had, but wanted with everything in him.

  To say he had been shocked by the kiss was an understatement. Tommy was as straight as any good ol’ boy he knew. He’d even been married, and to hear Marcy, Tommy’s ex-wife, talk when she had been drinking, Tommy was a tiger in the sack—and a tomcat out of it. He’d never discussed it with Tommy, but he’d heard through the barroom grapevine the reason for their divorce. Marcy had discovered he’d cheated on her—online for sure, and probably in the flesh.

  But Tommy had always been strung pretty tight. And stress did funny things to people, so maybe needing some good old-fashioned human contact right then was understandable. As soon as the thought formed, Jim was already shaking his head. No other guy he knew, no matter how upset or relieved or whatever, would have kissed another guy. There was something more at work here.

  Jim mentally kicked himself for not taking full advantage at the time—what had he been thinking? He was just so used to playing his sexuality close to the vest at work, sheer survival instinct kept him stone-cold sane. Home and work? Not the places to advertise being gay. Not in this town. Only on trips to the city did he let himself loose, and even then, he kept things short and sweet. No second helpings, and he’d kept that boundary very clear in his head. Even if Tommy was interested, it wasn’t as though they could have a relationship or anything… but he couldn’t think of Tommy in the context of a one-and-done either. Better to just steer clear.

  But, oh, he had tasted so fucking good.

  Jim slid his hand down his soapy abdomen and tried a do-over in his head. One where the moment their lips touched, Jim took charge—snaking one hand around Tommy’s lower back and threaded the other into that silky-looking hair, cupping the back of his head, holding him in place as Jim deepened the kiss. This time, he welcomed the parting lips, slanting his own across them as he stroked his tongue inside, getting a fuller taste of Tommy, feeling the sleek slide of the man’s tongue against his own.

  Giving up on teasing himself, Jim took his hardening shaft in a firm grip, the soap easing his strokes as his image of Tommy shifted from a kiss to Tommy on his knees in front of him. The vision of Tommy looked up teasingly at Jim from under his lashes as he pulled Jim’s cock from his pants, but there was nothing teasing about the way he took him into the warm depths of his mouth. He applied just the right amount of pressure and suction to ensure Jim wouldn’t last. And he didn’t, stripping the cum from his cock, in his mind painting the back of Tommy’s throat as he took everything Jim had to give.

  Jim braced himself with one hand against the tile as the water cooled, rinsing away the fantasy. The faint sounds of his cell ringtone abruptly brought him back to grim reality—he was unemployed, and he’d missed a golden opportunity with Tommy. One he might never get another chance of repeating.

  Jim haphazardly dried off and dug into his jeans pocket for his phone. The missed call was from Tommy, as if Jim’s shower fantasy had conjured him up. The voice mail hit his phone as he watched.

  Getting really good at playing ostrich, he tossed aside the phone without listening. Jim dressed himself in sweats and an old T-shirt, grabbed a bottle of beer, and collapsed on the couch. He had become mindlessly engrossed in a rerun he’d seen often enough to know the lines, when the knock came at the door.

  Shit.

  The second knock came more forcefully, enough to convey that the person on the other side knew he was home and wasn’t going away. Ten to one it was Tommy, which Jim confirmed with a glance through the peephole. Tommy looked determined and in for the long haul.

  With a deep sigh to bolster his nerve, Jim opened the door just as Tommy was set to knock a third time.

  “Hey.” Tommy fell silent and shifted uncomfortably.

  Jim stood back to let him in. “For someone who’s called at least once—twice maybe?—and about knocked my door down, ‘hey’ is the best you could come up with?”

  That earned him a piercing look. “You’re not drunk yet.”

  “Working on it.”

  Tommy led the way into the living room, taking in the scene before flipping on the lights and turning off the television.

  “I was watching that, you know,” Jim complained.

  Without a response, Tommy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two opened bottles of beer. “I ordered before I came. Pizza’s on its way,” he informed Jim as he settled on the couch. On Jim’s cushion.

  Damn it to hell.

  Grumbling as he made do with the middle of the couch, Jim glared at the man. “I don’t need your damn sympathy or your pizza. I just want to chill out. Alone.”

  “You’ve got to eat,” Tommy reasoned, maddeningly sure of his welcome. At least most of him was. The smallest of signs, a clenching jaw, gave him away. Jim could almost see the stranglehold Tommy had on his responses.

  Lips curving slyly as the possibilities ran through his head, Jim decided on silence as the first means of torture.

  The minutes ticked by as they both drank their beer, and Jim began to frown. Tommy should be talking up a storm by now. About to burst, wondering who was torturing whom, Jim decided on another tactic; he sighed loudly.

  Peering at Tommy when the expected question didn’t come, irritated as hell that the usual methods of getting him going weren’t working, Jim pulled out the big guns.

  “So what was that kiss today all about?”

  Bingo. Tommy tensed from his head to his toes, his mouth opening to speak. But before the payoff, there was another knock at the fucking door. God, between the phones and the door, Jim’s apartment had suddenly turned into Grand Central Station.

  Tommy popped up to hurry to the door, returning with two pizza boxes and a sack balanced on top.

  Jim’s stomach, not caring one whit for subtlety or angst, chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

  That superstar smile stretched Tommy’s face. “Sh
ould I just set it down and back away?”

  “Just get us another beer.”

  Tommy was still grinning when he returned with the drinks. Jim ignored him and rummaged in the bag. Breadsticks with dipping sauce—score.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” Jim accused around his mouthful of breadstick.

  “What am I trying to do?” Tommy humored him while checking the contents of the boxes.

  Jim purposely double-dipped. “You’re trying to cheer me up with food and company. It’s not going to work.”

  Tommy pulled a second container of sauce out of the bag. Tricky fucker, ordering two.

  “I’m not trying to cheer you up. Just being supportive. Actually, I’m pretty pissed at you.”

  Jim almost inhaled his breadstick in shock and had to clear his throat before answering. “What? What the hell did I do?” Oh shit, did he find out about the last-minute swap? Keith wouldn’t’ve told him, would he?

  Tommy sobered and looked down at his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting laid off? I thought we were friends, but I end up finding out from Sandy. Not that she told me, told me. Shit, I would’ve stuck around, and at the very least I wouldn’t have joked around or been so happy about my own job being safe. There I was, all freaking out and you said I was okay, and all I could think about was myself. God, I feel like the most selfish prick for assuming you were okay too. But you didn’t even tell me, and then I had to go and….”

  Tommy went beet red, and Jim knew he was remembering the kiss. The uncertainty in his eyes almost killed Jim as he finally looked up.

  “Is it because of what I did? I don’t know why I did that, but it won’t happen again—”

  “Tommy.”

  “—you don’t have to worry about me. Shit, not that you’re worried, I mean, you’ve got at least thirty pounds on me. So you wouldn’t—”

  “Tommy.”

  “—be in danger of me, not that I’d force myself on you or anything, but, oh God, this just isn’t coming out right—”

  “Tommy!”

  That finally got Tommy’s attention. Those huge blue eyes focused squarely on Jim as he paused, lips parted as if just waiting for the opportunity to go off again.

  Restraint broken, Jim lunged, slamming down on those inviting lips.

  Chapter 5

  TOMMY’S GASP seemed to draw Jim’s tongue in with it, and he surrendered to the idea of never breathing again if it meant this kiss could go on and on. No oxygen? Don’t need it. All he could think about was that Jim was kissing him. Kissing. Him. Like he meant it, whatever that meant.

  Jim lifted his head. “God, do you ever stop? I swear I can hear you thinking. Just enjoy it. Fuck.” And he lowered his head again. Tommy took his advice and ate up the sensation of having all of his dreams come to fruition so suddenly and unexpectedly. He angled his head just a bit, trying to take the first step toward turning in Jim’s direction, and Jim actually growled—as if protesting any move he didn’t initiate.

  Jim pulled away and almost tossed him toward the other end of the couch. Never had Tommy been more aware of the size difference between himself and Jim as when Jim stretched out to cover him, pressing together from knees to groin to chest. Jim cradled Tommy’s head in his large hands with an unexpectedly gentle touch, and took his lips again in a clinging kiss that evolved quickly into a carnal, torrid mating.

  Tommy could barely wrap his head around it. Just this morning, he’d still felt so far away from reaching his fantasies about what could happen between two men that they seemed to be a movie on the big screen, looming large as life but completely untouchable. Now he was kissing the object of his desire for the second—third?—time today, and he hadn’t even had dinner yet. Imagine what else might happen by bedtime….

  Almost hyperventilating at the sudden stream of visuals that conjured up, his cock the hardest it had ever been, Tommy moaned repeatedly, instinctively spreading his legs, trying to get closer to Jim… and it worked. Jim groaned low into Tommy’s mouth as he settled in place, rocking against him, the fit natural and perfect.

  It hit Tommy suddenly that Jim seemed a little bit too okay with this, just too good at it to be doing it for the first time. Is he gay? He turned his head abruptly to try to get breath to speak, but now Jim had access to his neck and made full use of it, nibbling and licking and sucking his way down to the magic spot where shoulder and neck and throat all came together. Tommy found himself arching to give Jim more room to work before he realized what he was doing.

  “Jim.” His voice came out needy and wanting, not sounding like himself at all.

  “Mmm” came the answering murmur against his neck and—oh!—the vibration went straight to his cock, thrusting for counterpressure against the matching ridge not in the least disguised by Jim’s sweats.

  What was he trying to do? Stop?

  Why, you idiot?

  Why, indeed? Talking was overrated.

  Tommy ran his hands down Jim’s back, learning for the first time what it felt like to have a strong, muscular back under his touch. When he reached the elastic waistband, he paused, unsure of whether he should go any farther. Why not? Go for it, a hedonistic part of himself piped up.

  His hands apparently agreed and slid that extra distance, leaving the waistband behind and tracing over Jim’s taut ass. Full and—he squeezed—tight, it felt like pure muscle under his untutored fingers. Their heights were just different enough that Jim was having to bend to get at Tommy’s neck, and as he squeezed, Jim gasped, throwing his head back with the force of his reaction. This left Jim’s neck open to exploration, and Tommy wasted no time in running his tongue from the dip between his collarbones up his Adam’s apple and under his chin. Jim tasted clean with just a hint of salt, but somehow very male. Mouthwatering.

  Jim’s questioning gaze met his from just inches away. This was Tommy’s chance to talk, to ask Jim the millions of questions running through his head. But all Tommy wanted at that moment was another kiss—and he took it, lifting his head, showing Jim without words that he was as into this as Jim was, if not nearly as experienced.

  That’s right. That’s what he wanted to ask Jim.

  He pulled back again. “Are you gay?”

  In retrospect, it wasn’t the brightest question he’d ever asked, considering their erections were still nestled together and they’d just pulled their tongues out of each other’s mouths.

  WHAT THE hell am I doing?

  If Jim could’ve smacked his forehead just then, he would’ve, but his fingers were woven through Tommy’s hair, hands cupping the back of his head, and extricating himself was beyond his capabilities at the moment. What the hell had happened to his shower-time “steer clear” affirmation? Tommy most decidedly did not fit into the out-of-town-stranger category, and one-night-stand category would be tough considering he lived about one hundred yards away. That and Jim had a sinking feeling touching Tommy would quickly become addictive.

  He tried out the thought of him and Tommy walking into the company Christmas party, hand in hand, and winced. Not going to happen. Not in this town.

  With grim resolve, he separated himself from Tommy before coming back to his question. As he pushed himself off Tommy to stand, it was no contest between his rock-hard prick and his baggy sweats, and his cock continued to point straight at Tommy, as if seeking to make contact again. Giving up any pretense at hiding his obvious arousal, he gave his erection a smack that brought an empathetic wince from Tommy, then began to pace.

  Tommy wasn’t helping any, lying where Jim left him, sprawled open and inviting, the ridge unabated against his zipper. Those glacier-blue eyes were heavy lidded, his lips puffed and looking for all the world as though he’d just been kissed stupid.

  Or had just given a hell of a blowjob.

  Not helping!

  “At this point, you probably wouldn’t believe any answer except, ‘Yes, I’m gay.’ Right?”

  Tommy gave a nod, eyes serious on his.


  Wishing he could just walk away, or somehow play this all off as some bi-curious or drunken or stress-induced mistake, Jim was instead drawn back to the couch. He sat again, wisely keeping some distance, and Tommy finally sat up, shifting a bit to adjust his own erection.

  “I am gay,” Jim admitted finally. “But you can’t tell anyone. Anyone. It’s not public, and I damn well want to keep it that way.” The moment the words left Jim’s mouth, he wished he could recall them. It sounded like he didn’t trust Tommy, and sure enough, Tommy shot him a hurt look.

  “Jesus. It’s not like I’m going to run out and kiss and tell, Jim.”

  Jim thrust a hand impatiently through his hair. “Shit, I know that. I’m sorry. I just never imagined having to have this conversation with anyone, much less a friend or coworker.” Grimacing as he remembered they were no longer coworkers, Jim watched Tommy as he jumped to his feet and walked over to the window.

  He whirled back around to confront Jim. “You didn’t tell me you got laid off. You didn’t tell me you were gay. How good of friends can we be? You obviously don’t trust me.” Jim began to protest, but Tommy waved him off. “Actions speak louder than words. Someone who’s a friend is the first person you’d go to with things like this. Does Keith know you’re gay?” Jim’s face flamed, and he couldn’t deny it. “See what I mean? You can confide in him, but not in me.”

  Tommy gave a bitter laugh. “I’ll bet the whole time we were kissing, your mind was on me outing you somehow. Don’t worry. We’ll go back to being buddies. And your secret is safe with me.” Jim watched, heavyhearted, as Tommy sat down—in the chair this time—and defiantly grabbed a piece of now-cold pizza. “Now that that’s all out of the way, we can get to what I came over to talk about. I want to hire you.”