by Devon Rhodes
The back moved under his cheek and a chuckle reverberated through him. Jim turned and took Tommy in his arms.
“That’s one thing I love about you. When you get going, you either verbally paint yourself into a corner or cover all the bases. But you’re never boring.” With one last squeeze, Jim shrugged. “I just wanted you to be able to enjoy your summer a little bit, and have somewhere to escape the remodeling mess while it’s going on.”
“You know me so well. This was definitely the best area of the house to do that with, and not one I would have chosen to do anytime soon,” Tommy praised.
“Exactly. Well, that,” Jim added with a lopsided grin and a wink, “and it was the only part I could get to without a key.”
Chapter 7
NOW THAT Tommy had taken possession, the remodel could begin in earnest, but first he had to vacate his apartment and get moved into the house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me until we get some of the major things done over there?” It wasn’t the first time Jim had asked, and he was starting to feel a little desperate. He wanted Tommy sharing his space, and this was the perfect excuse—one that would hold water with their more conservative friends.
See, I’m just helping him out. That’s why he’s living with me. Completely innocent and understandable—one buddy helping out another.
Tommy looked up from the bedframe he’d just finished taking apart, looking exasperated. “We’ve already been over this. I don’t need to stay with you. The house is big enough to keep out of the way of the work. The two west bedrooms upstairs aren’t in bad shape, and it’ll be easy to whip through those once I get the rest of the house done. In the meantime, I can live in one and store furniture in the other. It’ll be fine. Why do you keep bringing it up?” A frown creased his brow as he stared Jim down, until Jim was forced to look away.
Jim opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to put to voice the real reason he kept pushing. I don’t want to lose this opportunity to have you with me round the clock, to have you in my bed, away from prying eyes.
In lieu of an answer, he wordlessly picked up an end table and carried it out to the pickups. Tommy had little enough big furniture that they’d decided to just make multiple trips in their trucks, even though Keith had offered the use of one of the company trucks as a moving van.
Tommy was right behind him with the bedframe. “So what do you think? How about we put everything that’s going into storage in your truck and what I’ll want in the room I’m living out of in mine? That way we know ahead of time which room to carry it to.”
Trying to get back some enthusiasm, even though he’d rather it all went into storage and Tommy would just walk his clothes over to Jim’s apartment—he’d even cleared out space in his closet and dresser, although he’d rather die than admit that—Jim summoned a smile. “Great idea. That way I can just keep unloading without bugging you constantly. So, this stay with your bed?” he asked, indicating the bedside table with a tilt of his head.
With an odd look, Tommy nodded, then laid the pieces of bedframe into his truck. He seemed about to say something but apparently decided against it and instead turned and strode back toward the stairs.
As he left, Jim couldn’t help but think he’d missed a golden opportunity to come clean with Tommy about why he was resistant to Tommy moving to the house right now. But all the layers of subtext between them were already so tangled, between the layoff, their friendship, their burgeoning sexual affair, and his job working for Tommy. Did he really want to add yet another complication—a huge one like living together—even if it would be beyond amazing to be able to hold Tommy every night, away from the outside world?
Part of him insisted he go for it, take a chance and tell Tommy what he wanted and why. But the conservative side of him, coupled with his pride—after all, he’d already been shot down more than once—won out, and he poured forth full effort into getting Tommy moved like he wanted, without another word of protest.
IT WAS like a film of this morning running in reverse as Tommy worked to put the bedframe back together in the small room he’d be occupying until they finished the master suite remodel. Jim set down the end table, then adjusted its placement until he got a nod from Tommy.
“Ready for the box springs?”
“Will be in about a minute.”
Jim grabbed the second of the two twin box springs that made up the support for the king-size bed and slowly maneuvered it up the stairs, trying not to cause any more damage to the drywall. He set it next to the first one, leaning against the wall in the hall, just as Tommy walked out.
“Oh great. Here, slide me that one.”
They carried the box springs in and set them into place before walking back down to the truck.
“Ready for this?”
“Do you think it’ll go around the bend in the stairs okay?” Tommy worried.
Jim watched as Tommy chewed on his lower lip and had to smile. “It’ll have to. Best get it up there now before we do any finish work.”
“True. Okay. Let’s do it.”
They shoved and maneuvered the unwieldy mattress halfway up the stairs. “Shit, stuck. Okay. I think we’re going to have to lift it over the railing and tip it back that way,” Jim said.
Tommy’s voice was muffled coming from the other side of the mattress. “Which way?”
“That way, like a teeter-totter. Over the top and just let it flop.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Jesus, Tommy. You’d think you’d have a better spatial sense with what you do for a living.”
“It’s best for me when I can see it and hold it in my hands.”
His innocent remark lit a fire in Jim as he immediately visualized his cock in Tommy’s warm grip. “Let’s fucking do this.” His words were frustrated, but his tone was husky and low and had to give away his growing need. “Follow my lead.”
They finally coordinated their efforts enough to get the mattress past the obstacle and quickly had it centered on the awaiting frame and box springs. Tommy pulled some linens from a plastic trash bag serving as a suitcase and took the far side as they made the bed in tandem. The proximity of Tommy and a mattress had Jim barely keeping a rein on his lust, especially when Tommy leaned over to tuck and smooth the bottom sheet, his own bottom elevated on display.
When Tommy flipped the top sheet into the air to settle in place, Jim gave a tug from his side, yanking it askew and almost pulling Tommy onto the bed. His full lips were parted in surprise when he looked up. The annoyed, questioning look smoothed quickly into a knowing expression as he tugged back. The interplay quickly escalated into an all-out war, which Jim finally cut short by pulling Tommy in using the sheet, hand over hand, until Tommy was knee-walking across the bed to meet Jim.
Tommy’s slight strut on the way across the bed was a sight to see, and his heavy-lidded azure gaze locked on Jim’s. Sexy fucker.
“Welcome home,” Jim murmured against Tommy’s lips as they met in the middle of the bed.
“Mmm-hmm.”
It hadn’t escaped Jim’s notice that this was the first time they’d been on a bed together, and he turned thought into action as he sank sideways, pulling Tommy down with him onto the partially made bed without separating from their kiss. The scent of clean linen made him remember their shoes, and he toed his trainers off the edge of the bed without breaking the leisurely kiss, feeling movement that told him Tommy had noticed and was doing the same thing.
Niceties taken care of, he deepened the kiss, cupping the back of Tommy’s head with one hand while running his free hand down Tommy’s side and grabbing a handful of his jeans-clad ass. Tommy met his kiss eagerly, sharing his approval through little hums in the back of his throat as he lightly circled his hips against Jim.
This sense that they were the only two people on earth was exactly what Jim had envisioned when he imagined Tommy moving in with him. The privacy to lavish his attention on Tommy and have
it returned—without any prying eyes or disapproving stares. Or worse.
Jim restrained a shudder at the thought of his family’s reaction if they were to see him like this. The vitriolic hatred for anyone different than themselves had passed undiluted from his bigoted grandfather down to Jim’s dad and brothers, somehow bypassing Jim. Or rather, Jim had known from early on he needed to play the game of going along to get along—or fall victim himself.
“Hey. Where’d you go?”
A calloused thumb stroked roughly against his temple, bringing his full attention back to the man lying beside him. Jim wasn’t about to admit his less-than-sexy thoughts to Tommy and instead chose to go on the offensive. He rolled Tommy under him, loving the way Tommy willingly gave himself over to him.
The muscular body beneath his was at once accommodating and demanding, and suddenly Jim couldn’t stand to have anything between them. He had to feel Tommy’s skin against his own, learn the temperature and texture.
“Up,” he coached, pulling Tommy to a sitting position before whipping his shirt over his head and casting it to the floor. Tommy’s followed, and Jim tugged the button-fly of Tommy’s jeans open before easing him back down to the bed.
He’d seen Tommy without a shirt before, but never when he could look his fill. Nicely developed shoulders and smooth pecs narrowed to a trim abdomen with just the lightest line of hair trailing down to the silky dark nest now peeking out of his open fly.
Enough visual. Jim leaned forward almost reverently and eased down over Tommy, who raised his powerful arms to take Jim into an embrace that just felt right. He couldn’t stifle a groan as he made blessed skin contact.
Expectant eyes met his, and Jim swallowed against sudden nerves. He knew everything they were doing was new to Tommy, and he felt the awesome responsibility of making it good for him, but wasn’t sure he had the self-control to pull it off. He’d been wanting him for so fucking long….
Bypassing the waiting lips, he instead grazed along the stubble tracing Tommy’s jawline, tongue sneaking out to pick up a hint of salt and enough of Tommy’s own taste that it made his mouth water in anticipation of sampling him elsewhere. Giving a literal lick and a promise to Tommy’s small, responsive nipples—making Tommy squirm promisingly beneath him—Jim nipped and laved his way down to the open jeans and paused for a moment to inhale. Working hard, moving all day had waves of warm, musky scent rising from Tommy’s skin—pure, undiluted man.
Slowly sliding Tommy’s jeans and briefs down his legs, Jim followed in their wake with kisses and nudges until a dampening thought occurred to him. He’d be surprised if Tommy had any necessary supplies, period, much less handy. So making the decision of whether to let Tommy penetrate him—an exclusive top for at least a decade—would have to be put on the back burner for now, as would any overture to taking Tommy’s cherry. A quick glance up at those expressive eyes, now showing a combination of lust and apprehension, decided matters for Jim, and he shucked his own jeans in a flurry of quick movements.
Jim spat in his hand, deliberately holding Tommy’s gaze as he knelt over him and stroked their erections in turn. One more spit, and he brought their cocks together in both of his hands. Tommy’s low moan coupled with the feel of Tommy’s dick jumping between his hand and his own straining length nearly finished Jim right there. Gritting his teeth for strength, he gave a few hard, breathtaking strokes, hands gliding easily in the mixture of spit, sweat, and precum.
Needing more, he dropped onto Tommy’s strong chest, bringing their naked bodies together in full alignment. After only a few deliriously fantastic minutes of rubbing together, Tommy stiffened under him.
“Ah! Fuck!” Tommy’s cry was followed by a pooling warmth between their abdomens, and Jim could feel the erection pressed against his flexing as Tommy poured forth. The last of Jim’s control vanished, and he pumped against the newly slick skin, vision blurring as he tipped over the edge and shot repeatedly, helpless to stop the jerking of his hips.
Jim braced himself over Tommy, panting, not wanting to lose the contact. In a move Jim knew he’d be recalling in his solitary time, one that made his chest ache with emotion, Tommy wrapped his arms around Jim, heedless of the sweat and mess, and held him as if he’d never let go.
“Jim.”
The barely audible whisper stirred up an unfamiliar and uncomfortable churning in Jim’s gut, making him want to jump and run. But he didn’t pull away… not for a long time.
Chapter 8
“WHAT THE fuck is this?”
The enjoyment of working side by side with Tommy—when he was off his day job, that was—over the past couple weeks had taken a bitter turn this morning when Tommy had handed him an envelope with Jim—GC paycheck written across the front. The hit to his pride was like a fist to the solar plexus, but Jim had mentally toughened his way through the indignity by at least consoling himself that he didn’t have to haunt the unemployment office. And it was rewarding working on Tommy’s house, putting his effort into perfecting his home.
But the bitterness had turned to bile when he’d finally gotten the nerve to open it.
With a surprised look at him, Tommy squinted at the paper Jim was brandishing in front of him. “I can’t tell you if I can’t see it. Stop waving it around.”
“Fine.” Jim held it completely still between his hands, seething. “Here you go. Now. What is this?”
Tommy met his gaze calmly. “It’s your pay summary.”
“Pay summary,” Jim repeated flatly. The sting of accepting the envelope from his almost-lover and friend had been bad enough, but then, when he’d opened it….
“You mind explaining to me why I’m getting paid to have sex with you? Because according to this, you’re paying me for a stretch of time where the only work I remember doing was on your cock.”
Jim knew he was being crude, but he didn’t care. He was a fucking man, damn it; not a whore, not a mistress, not a fucking charity case. A man.
“That’s a time frame we agreed you’d be working for me. So I paid you for it. It’s like at work. Sometimes we goof around and get to talking, but we’re still on the clock and still get paid by the company.” Tommy made it sound so cut-and-dried.
“Do not bring up the fucking company to me. I no longer work there, remember? Don’t you dare throw it in my face.” Unreasonable? Yes. But Jim was beyond reason at this point.
Tommy frowned, looking uncertain and angry all at once. “I’m not throwing it in your face, I’m just trying to explain—”
“Don’t bother. I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s bullshit. I don’t need this from you. I don’t need this from anybody,” Jim ranted, all his frustration and pride surging to a head. “I knew this was a bad idea from the start.”
“Jesus, Jim. Will you listen to yourself? I don’t know what you’ve gotten up your ass, but you need to chill out.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my boss. Got that?”
Tommy was glaring back at him, his back finally up as he cut loose. “Oh, I’ve got it. It’s getting clearer by the second. So what’re you gonna do? Quit? Fine by me. I don’t need you. You’re not doing anything I couldn’t do myself.”
EVEN AS the words came out of his mouth, his brain began to panic.
Shut up! What are you doing? You don’t want Jim to quit.
But it was too late, as the stiff, prideful expression on Jim’s stony face made clear. The damage had been done. Jim spun without a word and walked away, letting the paper drift to the floor in his wake as he headed to the door.
“Jim….”
Jim didn’t bother to stop or look back as he cut him off. “Don’t say a word. You’ve already said enough. I’m done here.”
For a sickening moment, Tommy thought he might throw up. Childishly wishing for a do-over, he almost-ran after Jim and grabbed his arm by the elbow just as he reached the door.
Jim whirled around, and Tommy braced himself but didn’t retreat. I’d deserve i
t if he did punch me. That was a low blow.
Lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying any more, Jim looked away from Tommy and shook his head, rejecting him—rejecting the whole situation as he walked out without another word.
Tommy’s breath left him in a whoosh, and the back of his throat tightened when he heard the slam of Jim’s pickup door followed by the engine firing. He couldn’t look at Jim pulling away, just listening until the sounds of his truck heading down the street faded into the ambient noise. Once it was obvious he was completely gone, Tommy looked outside at his lone truck, looking deserted and symbolic of the way he felt just then.
All the strength left his legs and he slid down the wall to the floor.
I fucked up.
He knew, knew Jim had been uncomfortable about taking the job in the first place and had to wrestle with his pride to take what he saw as a handout. That was one reason Tommy had the idea to meticulously document Jim’s hours worked, to show he wasn’t overpaying Jim, or paying him for nothing, but that Jim was earning every bit of what he got.
Guess I should’ve just cut a check and kept it simple. Me and my bright ideas.
It wasn’t Jim’s fault Tommy couldn’t resist blending work and pleasure when they were alone working in the house. It was the only time, really, Jim unwound enough to let his sexy side come out to play, and they’d made full use of the privacy on multiple occasions.
Never would he have dreamed Jim would misconstrue in such a horrible fashion Tommy paying him straight through his time here, rather than taking out… fucking-around time?
I wonder if the Wage and Labor people would consider that a break?
He gave a mirthless laugh that sounded strange to his ears in the echo of the empty house. Jim hadn’t yet spent the night, but they’d worked hard together well into the evening on weeknights, sharing dinners on the fly, only parting company to shower at their respective homes and fall into bed. They’d spent the weekends together from midmorning to well after dark.
