Love Has No Direction

by Kim Fielding

  Wes looked innocently up at him. “Yes?”

  “We won’t have anything left for the gingerbread.”

  “You taste better anyway.” Then Wes lowered his head and began to suck.

  There was something wonderfully naughty about being sprawled on the floor of a school bus, shirt rucked up and pants and underwear shoved down, his dick halfway down someone’s throat. Yet it was nothing like any of the quick hookups he’d had, or even like sex with his short-term boyfriends. Wes didn’t just turn him on; he also turned him inside out and made Parker want to reach for more. More within himself and more without. Made him want to grow roots and become the kind of tree Wes would fashion into something useful and amazing. God, if only Parker knew how to do that!

  He planned to push Wes away and move the party to the bed. He was totally going to do that. In a second. In—

  “Gonna come!” he screeched and went off like a rocket.

  Wes didn’t make any effort to stop, not until Parker lay half-senseless and gaping up at the curved ceiling. Then Wes chuckled, low and dirty. “Much better than building a gingerbread house.”

  “That was… fast. Sorry.”

  Another low laugh. “But you’re young. We don’t have to be finished yet.”

  As if agreeing, Parker’s cock, which hadn’t softened in the least, gave an enthusiastic twitch. Wes, still face level with it, laughed. “Told you.”

  Parker shed clothing as he made his way to the bed, nearly falling twice more as he worked his feet out of his jeans. But he made it there naked and unscathed and threw himself onto the mattress, slowly jacking himself while watching Wes undress. He was gratified to see Wes’s nimble fingers turn clumsy.

  Although Parker had seen Wes unclothed many times over the past days, Wes still seemed self-conscious about his scars. In contrast, all Parker saw was a beautiful, strong man whose healing wounds simply emphasized his strength. Parker tried hard to let his full appreciation show in his eyes and on his face. And when Wes reached to douse the lights, Parker spoke up. “Don’t. Please.”

  Wes let his hand hover near the switch for a moment before turning away and crawling onto the bed. He didn’t touch Parker, opting instead to prop himself on his side and watch, as if Parker were putting on a show for him. Which, to a large extent, Parker was. He even slowed down the movements of his fist and spread his legs a trifle wider. He suspected he looked wanton. Maybe even debauched. Good.

  When Wes reached for him, Parker caught his hand. “No. Lie on your back. Touch yourself for me.”

  Wes’s eyes widened, but he obeyed. Initially his movements appeared hesitant, but then he seemed to get off on the avid way Parker watched him, and Wes became more extravagant. He tilted his head back on the pillow and caught his lower lip between his teeth, and the deep-red head of his cock appeared and disappeared in his curled fist.

  Watching was good. But touching would be better. Keeping his gaze locked with Wes’s, Parker lightly brushed the pad of his thumb over one pale pink nipple, feeling it tighten. Wes shivered, so Parker did it again. He switched to the other one, and this time Wes gasped and arched his back.

  That encouraged Parker to explore further. He lightly traced each of Wes’s ribs and the indentation of his sternum, carefully avoiding bruises and cuts. He played for a bit with the shallow cup of Wes’s navel and the points of his hips. There was a particularly nasty-looking gash on one upper thigh, but it didn’t seem to bother Wes just now. He spread his legs wide, allowing Parker access to the inner thigh, to the tender crease where legs met torso, and then to Wes’s balls.

  Wes made a sound then, deep and guttural, that went right to Parker’s core. Never mind that he’d gotten off maybe ten minutes ago; his cock was now so hard it ached. Parker was fairly certain that if he touched himself, he’d shoot really fast, and that wasn’t what he was going for. Instead he wrapped his hand around Wes’s so they moved together, and after several strokes, he moved Wes’s hand away and claimed the prize for himself.

  He scooted a little closer so he could whisper in Wes’s ear. “I love the feel of you. Soft skin but a hard center. Hot. Slick. I bet you taste salty.” He didn’t move his mouth to Wes’s groin, though, but nibbled delicately at the shell of his ear, the point of his chin, the cushion of his lip. He blew very softly and kissed the corner of Wes’s mouth, right at the spot that curled up when he smiled. Kissed the lines radiating from the outer corners of his eyes and the little groove centered above his upper lip. Enjoyed the sound of Wes’s breaths and the sensation of Wes’s heart beating only inches from his own.

  Wes was rubbing Parker’s lower back, sometimes venturing down to squeeze his ass, and that was very nice. Even better, though, was the way he gazed so steadily at Parker. Wes’s eyes were wide and the pupils so open that almost no blue iris showed. Wes seemed emotionally open too, offering himself freely to Parker without regard for his own vulnerability despite what he’d been through so recently. That trust was the most generous gift Parker had ever received.

  Continuing the steady strokes of his fist with an added little twist, Parker scraped his teeth on the cords of Wes’s neck, soothing the tiny irritations by sucking on them. Wes’s entire face and chest had flushed beautifully, and Parker’s grip had grown slick from precome. With a deep moan, Wes started lifting his hips in rhythm with Parker’s movements.

  “Need… more of you,” groaned Wes.

  Parker knew that Wes kept rubbers and lube in a little wooden box on a shelf above the bed, but that meant separating their bodies, if only for a moment. But then Wes said, “Please.” Parker knelt up, grabbed the box, and fumbled through it so quickly that the box went flying—scattering condoms in its wake—and landed with a crash on the floor.

  “It broke!” Parker cried. It had been a beautiful thing, obviously one of Wes’s handiworks. “I’m so sor—”

  Wes grabbed him in a sort of reverse tackle, bringing Parker back to the mattress with him. “Don’t care,” he growled. He thrust a wrapped condom into Parker’s hand. “More. Now.”

  Which was better: vulnerable Wes or pushy-bottom Wes? Luckily Parker didn’t have to choose; he had them both. He rolled on the condom as quickly as possible. It would have been even faster except Wes had positioned himself on all fours. He had a magnificent ass—not flat and bony like Parker’s, but meaty and solid. The kind of ass you couldn’t help touching and maybe licking and biting a little. Which was what Parker did once the rubber was in place. Eventually he found the lube in the covers, and he worked some into Wes’s tight, grasping heat. His grunts got Parker so worked up that he feared he wouldn’t make it to the next act.

  “Ready?”

  “Have been forever.”

  Wes’s body welcomed Parker eagerly, as if they were made to be joined. Like Legos, Parker thought. Like the dovetail joints Wes used when he made furniture. But this union wasn’t intended to be static, so Parker swung his hips long and slow to the beat of “Witchy Woman,” which was playing on the speakers. After a few moments Wes made another long, low sound and dropped his chest onto the mattress, raising his ass higher. His head was turned to the side, eyes open but unfocused, his hands clutching the sheet so tightly his knuckles were white. As Parker plunged in and not quite out, he smoothed a palm down the long line of Wes’s spine.

  “So good. So perfect. I need so much and you give it to me and it’s more than— Oh my God, so good.” Parker was babbling nonsense but couldn’t stop, and it didn’t matter anyway. Not with Wes under him, around him. And Wes was suddenly rubbing his own cock furiously and Don Henley’s voice was howling and everything in Parker’s world narrowed, narrowed, narrowed to a few square feet and him and Wes and—

  Parker threw back his head and bayed when he came.

  Wes collapsed completely, Parker still inside and their skin stuck together with sweat. Parker kissed his nape, so pale after having been covered by hair for so long.

  “Jesus Christ,” Wes said with a long sigh.
r />   “I told you before. I’m Jew—”

  “But wasn’t that your second coming?”

  A naked, sticky tickle fight was a good follow-up to amazing sex. And then maybe a nap. Cleaning up could wait for later.

  Chapter Twenty

  “OKAY,” WES began. “So a jigsaw is good for a lot of uses, and it’s the only decent way to cut curves. But it comes with some challenges.”

  Parker nodded solemnly. “That thing’s not over fifteen pounds, is it?”

  Wes tried to suppress a smile. It had been two weeks, and he was already impatient with the doctor’s restrictions. He’d tried a few times to sneak in a violation, like relocating a box full of metal scraps he might want to use someday, but Parker was always right there to stop him. Now Wes hefted the saw. “Five, maybe six pounds tops.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you going to babysit or learn?”

  “Both,” Parker replied with an impish grin.

  “Right. The secrets to using a jigsaw are to clamp the wood really firmly so it doesn’t shift around while you’re cutting, and to keep the saw base level and in contact with the wood.”

  “Remain in contact with the wood. Got it.”

  Wes feigned exasperation. “How often are you going to spout lame innuendos about wood and tools?”

  “As often as possible. And don’t forget nuts and screws! And maybe some nailing.” Parker patted Wes’s butt—which was, in truth, a little achy from last night’s hammering, but in a good way. Parker’s ass was probably sore too, since they’d switched off. That had been a lot of fun, very much the best of both worlds. But that wasn’t what Wes was supposed to be thinking about right now.

  “You also need to choose the right blade. Jigsaws will cut just about any material: stone, metal, tile, wood, plastic. So use the right blade for your job, and make sure it’s nice and sharp.” He picked up a blade from his work surface. “This is a taper ground blade made of high-carbon steel. It’s best for precise cutting of wood.” Under Parker’s close scrutiny, Wes inserted the blade into the saw.

  “It’s backwards,” Parker said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The, um, pointy things—”

  “The teeth?”

  “Yeah, the teeth are facing the wrong way.”

  Wes chuckled. “They’re fine. A jigsaw cuts on the upstroke.” He waited, eyebrows raised, for Parker to snigger over the word stroke. “Do you want to see it in—um, at work?” He’d almost said in action, which would have produced at least a leer.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Draw a shape on this piece of wood. Nothing too intricate, but don’t be afraid to include curves. That what a jigsaw’s for.”

  Parker took a thick pencil, walked several steps away, and laid the wood scrap on a chair seat. He clearly didn’t want Wes to see what he was sketching, and that made Wes highly suspicious. But it also gave him a very nice view of Parker’s upraised ass, so he wasn’t about to complain.

  When Parker, smirking, returned the wood a few moments later, Wes wasn’t at all surprised by what he saw. “A dick?”

  “And balls. Those are nice and curvy.”

  “You want me to make you a wooden cock and balls?”

  “I absolutely do. You can either use it as centerpiece for a really interesting piece of furniture—ooh, it would be cool on a headboard!—or add it to your holiday decorations.” He waved at the Christmas lights he’d strung from the tarp supports. Wes was considering keeping them up year-round for their cheery nighttime glow.

  Shaking his head in mock dismay, Wes clamped the piece to his workbench and switched on the saw. Parker stood close by and watched Wes trace the blade along the penciled line. He had to reclamp the piece twice in order to get all around it, but when he was finished, Parker’s masterpiece was free. Wes tossed it to him. “There you go. You can hand sand the edges, or I can show you how to work the power sander next.”

  Parker grinned delightedly. “I think maybe I’ll figure out how to hang bells from this and make it into a wind chime. The ancient Romans hung dick wind chimes to keep away evil and bring good luck. Which is just about the only thing I learned during my short journey through higher education.”

  “You could screw some hooks into the bottom. Those would hold bells as long as they’re not too heavy.”

  “Good! Dick chime it is!”

  “But are you ready to stop playing with your dick and take a shot at the saw?”

  Parker set down his prized bit of wood.

  Wes drew something much easier for Parker—a simple straight line. He could manage genitalia when he was more skilled. “Okay. Clamp it.”

  Parker did, but Wes shook his head right away. “The clamp’s going to block the blade. You want to avoid moving the piece if at all possible. Also, make it tighter. You shouldn’t be able to shift the wood.”

  “All right.” Parker had a habit of sticking out the tip of his tongue when he concentrated. It was adorable and made Wes want to kiss him.

  When after several tries Parker had the wood arranged to Wes’s satisfaction, Wes handed him the saw. “The trickiest part is the beginning, when only a little bit of the base plate is in contact with the wood. Once you’ve moved forward a few inches, it gets easier. Just remember to keep it nice and even and to gently guide it along the line.”

  “Keep it even. Gently guide. Got it.” Parker tilted his head at Wes. “Did you take shop classes in high school?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not me. I did drama, choir, and business classes as electives and earned perfectly mediocre grades in all of them.”

  Wes smiled. “One good thing about being a grown-up is nobody cares anymore about your old permanent record from school. Which is good for me since I got in a few fights.”

  That made Parker blink. “You? Got in fights?”

  “I had a pretty big chip on my shoulder.”

  “Huh.”

  “Are you forgetting my tendency toward being a headstrong asshole?”

  Parker reached over and brushed at Wes’s shoulder as if knocking away an imaginary chip. “Headstrong, maybe sometimes. Asshole, never.” Then he waved the saw. “Okay, now how do I turn this thing on?”

  “Put the saw in place first.” Wes watched Parker comply. “Even it out a little—you have it tilted. Okay. Now put your left palm across the front, thumb on top. Good. That’ll help keep it down and steady. Now just squeeze the trigger with your right hand when you’re ready.”

  Parker took a deep breath and started it up. For a second or two the blade followed the line faithfully. Then Parker must have pulled sideways a little, rocking the saw off its base and sending the blade zigging off at a wild angle.

  “Let go, let go!” Wes shouted.

  And Parker let go, all right. He dropped the saw. It would have hit his foot if he hadn’t hopped back. Instead the saw landed on the cement pad with a distressing clunk-crash.

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! Did I break it?”

  Wes gingerly picked it up. The blade had slightly bent, but the tool itself looked unharmed. When he pulled the trigger, it buzzed like it was supposed to. “It’s fine.”

  “The blade is wack.”

  “No big deal. They only cost a couple of bucks apiece.” Wes removed the damaged blade and dropped it into his metal recycling bin. “Do you want to try again?”

  “I’ll pass.” Parker took a few steps back. “I don’t want to amputate a limb.”

  “It’d be hard to cut off a limb with a jigsaw. A finger or two, sure.”

  “I’d prefer to keep all my appendages, thanks. I think I’ll stick to things I can manage without bloodshed. How about if I make us some coffee?”

  “You barely tried. If you give it some practice—”

  “I could find a way to kill us both. Coffee?”

  Wes sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Good. That’s one thing I know how to do right.”

  PARKER WAS in a strange mo
od the rest of that day. His smiles appeared more rarely and looked weaker, not reaching his eyes. He didn’t chatter as much, and that evening after dinner, when Wes played Queen’s News of the World, Parker didn’t sing along. Although he sat on the couch beside Wes, each of them with a book—it had become their routine—Parker didn’t turn any pages. His faraway expression looked thoughtful.

  They didn’t have sex that night, although Parker snuggled close, his hair tickling Wes’s face. Wes liked the snuggling as much as the sex, really. With Parker in his arms, the world seemed to spin more smoothly and his dreams were sweeter.

  Although still somewhat distant in the morning, Parker made them pancakes and sausage and then did some tidying inside the bus while Wes reviewed finances. Things would be tight for a couple of months, but he’d manage. He’d already texted Mira to explain why he had nothing new to give her. He didn’t go into the details, of course; she didn’t need to know about the kidnapping. He just said he’d been injured and required surgery. She was entirely sympathetic, assuring him she’d look forward to new pieces whenever he was ready. So once he could work again, which was only a few more weeks away, he’d have income pretty quickly.

  Now Wes stood under the tarp, looking down at the notebook on his table. He’d been sketching rough plans for a workshop, and now he was getting to the point where he was almost excited at the concept. He’d be able to keep his things more organized. And more secure, an issue that had worried him a bit in the past, even though it seemed unlikely that thieves would find their way to his hidden little corner of the world. But warmth would be nice, not just when working but also when cooking and showering. He’d still use the bus as his primary living quarters, but a shop would make other parts of his life more comfortable.

  Wes gnawed on a pencil as he considered various sizes and placements of the shop. If he worked things right, he could use most of his existing concrete pad, which would save him money in supplies and labor.

  Parker, who’d been wandering around near the periphery of Wes’s vision, came close and draped himself over Wes’s back. His pointy chin dug into Wes’s shoulder.