He pulled back, looking down into Jackson’s bright blue eyes. “Very smooth.” David speared his fingers into Jackson’s dark hair.
“Thanks. But you’re talking when I can think of much better things for you to do with that mouth.”
David pressed down with his hips. “Me too, but I can’t imagine there’s time.”
Jackson shifted slightly, spreading his muscular thighs, and David slipped perfectly between them as if it was his place. “Tease,” Jackson growled.
“Not teasing.” David dove back in for another openmouthed kiss.
Their cocks pressed together, and even the layers of cloth couldn’t diminish the thrill of arousal. Jackson slid a hand down to cup David’s asscheek and he pulled him in, lifting one thigh over David’s hip, arching his pelvis up to meet his groin. David groaned at the rush of heat, even as Jackson curled his other hand around David’s neck.
Jackson’s grip tightened on his ass, strong fingers digging in. David spread his hands on Jackson’s ribcage and rotated his hips, providing needed friction, and Jackson made a delicious sound in the back of his throat.
Jackson lifted enough to suck on the skin below David’s chin, and the feeling was so exquisite, the ache in his groin so pronounced, that David was afraid he was about to do something he hadn’t done since he was fifteen. He fumbled and pressed his hand between them, his palm at the base of Jackson’s throat. He could feel Jackson’s Adam’s apple moving beneath his fingers. “Wait,” he gasped. “Jackson, wait.”
Jackson drew back, releasing David’s neck with a soft pop. “Why?”
“Because I’m about to come in my pants and it will humiliate me so completely I’ll never be able to look you in the face again.”
Jackson huffed out a ragged chuckle and let his head fall back against the sofa cushion. “Damn. I really want to watch you come undone.”
Another wave of desire rolled over David, and he took a deep breath before running his hand down Jackson’s chest, gratified to find Jackson’s heart pounding as hard as his. “You have to get home.”
Jackson closed his eyes on a groan. “Yeah. This whole making-out thing was a very bad idea.” He pressed his forehead against David’s throat. “It’s been a long damned time since I had to cut off something this good to get home to my mother’s house.”
David laughed weakly. “Yeah, and this time you have to face my mother when you get there too.”
Jackson settled his hands on David’s waist, not stroking, just holding. “I like your mom.”
“I like her too. But I wouldn’t want to have to talk to her right now.” He glanced down meaningfully and Jackson chuckled.
David pushed up onto his hands and knees and Jackson reluctantly let him go. He settled in the corner of the sofa, and Jackson lifted his hips to reach into the front of his jeans to adjust himself. When he was done, he sighed, and David eyed the long bulge that filled the front of Jackson’s pants with a longing he tried very hard not to show. His palm itched to reach over and cup him, and restraining himself was difficult.
“Well, hopefully it’s cold enough outside that it will take care of this hard-on before I get home.” He gave David a slight smile. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that, right?”
David found it hard to believe and thrilling, all at once. “That goes both ways, Jackson.”
“Good.” Jackson leaned in and kissed him quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
David followed him to the door, giving Jackson one last brief kiss before he stepped out onto the porch. David glanced around the darkened street, but he didn’t feel the crawling sensation of someone watching him he did some nights. Still, he watched Jackson go to his truck, giving one last wave as he pulled from the curb. Then he closed the door and leaned against it. He was still so hard it hurt, and he pressed his palm against his aching cock.
“I’m driving you crazy?” he muttered. “This is going to kill me.” He pushed away from the door and bent very cautiously to pick his coat up off the floor, then decided it wasn’t worth doing himself permanent injury and left it where it was.
DAVID WAS still floating on a wave of euphoria the next morning. His phone sounded off with a text message at seven thirty as he stood in his kitchen, finishing up a hasty cup of coffee. Jackson’s number flashed on the screen.
How did your meeting with Gil go?
David smiled, setting his cup aside to answer.
Excellent. I picked out colors for the outside of the house and the living room, dining room, and bathrooms.
What, not the kitchen?
David laughed. He glanced at the discolored paint above the stove and around the handles on the cabinet doors.
And the kitchen. I may be eating ramen noodles for a while, but at least the kitchen will be presentable.
I have a big picture of you eating ramen.
David could almost imagine his slow smile.
I’ll have you know I make a mean ramen. And peanut butter and jelly. And Kraft’s mac and cheese.
Yeah, but Kraft’s mac and cheese is gourmet fare compared to ketchup and saltine sandwiches.
David laughed again.
Clearly, we need to exchange recipes.
Yeah, if I never eat another saltine with ketchup it’ll be too soon. There was a pause. The delayed gratification may kill me, but I still want to kiss you senseless the next time I see you. Will it be this afternoon?
David smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.
At the risk of seeming desperate, he texted back, I’ll be here by five thirty.
Desperate would be four thirty.
No, desperate would be calling out sick and waiting for you in nothing more than a blanket and a smile.
Let me picture that. There was another short pause. Okay, I have to stop picturing that, you damned tease, or I’ll never get your new back door installed.
David laughed again.
Okay, I’ll stop. And I’m leaving you a check on the coffee table. See you at five thirty.
He’d written out a check for another thousand dollars, reminding himself to adjust his savings balance, and left for work.
He hadn’t noticed the purple mark on his neck until he shaved that morning, and even the sight of it sent a shiver of remembered pleasure through him. Because he really did need to present a professional image, he’d pulled a high-necked russet sweater on before donning a black sports coat, and that pretty much covered the spot. Unless of course you were Michael Crane, who apparently had hickey radar. He spotted the mark instantly and spent most of the day giving David a good-natured ration of crap, but he was too happy to care. Even another tense phone call with Conderson’s Manufacturing couldn’t put a dent in his mood. When his assistant’s distinctive, rhythmic rap sounded at about four while David was going over a spreadsheet for the disputed job, David fought a grin.
“Aren’t you getting tired of ragging on me yet?”
His door opened and Michael stuck his head through the gap, but the cheeky smile David expected was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was frowning.
“There’s a man here to see you,” he said, his voice low. “He won’t tell me what he wants, but insists he has to see you, personally.”
David mulled that for a moment. “Well, show him in, I guess.”
Michael didn’t look like he thought it was a great idea, but he opened the door wider, admitting a middle-aged man wearing a suit with a long, dark wool coat over it and holding a briefcase in one hand.
David stood. “I’m David Snyder.” He offered his hand. “How can I help you?”
Instead of shaking his hand, the man slapped an envelope into his palm. “You’ve been served,” he said tautly, then pushed past Michael, who had lingered, and out through the office door.
David’s throat was dry. He knew what “you’ve been served” indicated. He opened the envelope, pulling out the thick sheaf of papers and unfolding them. A large, hard lump settled in the middle of his chest.
Ac
ross the top it read “The Superior Court of Washington, In re the domestic partnership of petitioner Trevor Connor Blankenship and respondent David Wayne Snyder. Motion and Declaration for Temporary order of support.”
Hands trembling, he read further.
“…Requires the respondent, Mr. Snyder, to pay existing mortgage, monthly support, temporary attorney fees, other professional fees, and costs in the amount of $12,000 per month to Mr. Blankenship, until such time as indicated by the court.”
David felt like he might throw up. Twelve grand? Twelve grand a month? Trevor knew he didn’t have that kind of money. The payment on the condo was twelve hundred. If he had to pay this, it would wipe him out in a couple of months.
“My God, David, you’re white as a ghost. What is it?”
David lowered himself to sit on the edge of his desk and handed the documents to Michael.
Michael took them, scanning down the page. “Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” he exploded.
David stirred from his shock enough to see his office door was still open. He pushed up and closed it, leaning heavily against the wood.
“He can’t do this.” Michael asked David, “Can he?”
“I have no idea,” David said, still stunned. “I mean, clearly he can….” He gestured weakly toward the documents Michael still held.
“But twelve thousand dollars a month?” Michael lowered his voice, but it still sounded as loud as a shout in David’s head. “He can’t be serious.”
“I think he’s completely serious.”
“You have a lawyer, right?” Michael tossed the papers on David’s desk. “Call him.”
“Her,” David corrected absently, staring at the documents. “My lawyer’s a her.”
“Fine, call her. You have to fight this, David. You can’t let him get away with it.”
David nodded, crossing to sit in his chair.
WHEN HE walked in the front door of his house at nearly six, he still felt shell-shocked and sick to his stomach. He’d called his attorney’s office only to be told she was in court, so he made an appointment for the next morning. He then called his broker, and he confirmed what David already knew: if he had to liquidate enough of his assets to meet Trevor’s financial demands, ten years of hard work would be wiped out in three months. He didn’t think Trevor could touch the 401(k), but he wasn’t sure about that either. By the time David got off the phone with him, his most pressing desire was to vomit, then curl up in a fetal position around a bottle of scotch.
“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”
David looked up. It was dim in his living room, the only light coming from the kitchen doorway on the other side of the dining room. It took him a moment to find the outline of Jackson sitting in the rocking chair near the fireplace.
“I was getting ready to leave.”
“I’m sorry, I… something came up and… I….” He paused, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.” His voice sounded raw even to his own ears.
“David?” The light on the end table nearest Jackson flared to life, and David winced. Jackson stared at him for a long moment before pushing slowly to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
It probably should have occurred to David not to tell him, but it never did. He reached into the deep inside breast pocket of his coat, fished out the papers, and held them out, hating that his hand was still trembling. Jackson took the documents, turning so that the light from the lamp fell across the top page.
Jackson didn’t say anything as he read through the pages. He was so still and silent that David’s shakes began to worsen. Finally, Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He looked down and thumbed in a number, and waited.
“Beverley?” he said finally. “Hi. Do you mind staying with my mom for a few more minutes? I’ll be there by seven…. Thank you.” He hung up, putting the phone back into his jacket pocket. He searched David’s face. Instead of speaking, he took the two steps that separated them and pulled David into his arms.
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured next to David’s ear. “Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay.”
David leaned into the strength of Jackson’s body, wrapped his arms around his waist, and pressed his face against Jackson’s throat. He didn’t know if it would be okay or not, but it felt a lot less scary while held in Jackson’s embrace.
They talked quietly, Jackson holding David, reassuring him again and again that everything would be okay until he had to leave. After Jackson was gone, David made himself a light dinner of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, unsure before he ate if he’d even be able to keep it down, but the food helped to settle his stomach. He opened a bottle of red wine and drank a glass far more quickly than the fine vintage deserved, then poured a second and took it into the bedroom. He’d been going to browse the Internet for some accessories for the house, but the idea of spending enough for even some throw pillows and a bedspread caused so much anxiety, he dismissed the idea. Instead he turned on the television and changed into sweats, then stretched out against the headboard, sipping his wine. He tried, really hard, not to worry. But he’d never been very good at that. And Michael knew him as well as anyone. David got a text at just after nine.
Stop worrying and have another glass of wine. It will all work out okay.
David smiled faintly. Do you have a hidden camera in my bedroom or something?
No, but if you plan to start fucking the lovely Jackson anytime soon, I might invest in one.
Fuck off very much, thank you.
He could almost hear Michael laughing.
Love you, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.
David put the phone next to him on the comforter and tried to concentrate on some show he didn’t know the title of.
When his phone buzzed near his hip at nearly ten o’clock, and he had no more idea what he’d been watching than he had the hour before, he frowned and scooped it up. His frown faded when he saw the displayed number. A wave of relief slipped through him as he muted the television.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” Jackson’s deep voice slid into his ear, and David closed his eyes. The sound of his voice moved over David like a caress.
“How’s your mom?” David’s voice dropped into the same, intimate timbre.
“Sleeping. She’s doing a lot better.”
“I’m glad. I keep meaning to call my mom and ask.”
“I didn’t say anything to her, by the way.” He could hear Jackson shifting, and he wondered if he was in bed too. “To your mom, I mean.”
“Oh, thank you. I’ll tell her, but I want to wait until I talk to my lawyer first.”
“Yeah.” There was a pause. “Are you okay?”
Was he? “Yeah. More pissed off than anything now.”
“Good. I’d rather you were pissed off than blaming yourself.”
David frowned. “I wasn’t….”
“Weren’t you?”
David thought about it. How many times since the server left his office had he thought “if only I hadn’t walked out the way I did,” or “if only I hadn’t trusted Trevor to begin with.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
Jackson grunted softly. “You do get that your ex is an asshole, right?”
“Oh, yeah. But….” David stopped, moving his thumb around the top edge of his wine glass.
“But what?”
David hesitated, knowing even before he said it that it was probably going to sound stupid.
“Come on, David. Talk to me.”
The quiet acceptance in Jackson’s tone made it possible for him to say what he’d only allowed himself to think before. “I chose him, didn’t I? I mean, he didn’t suddenly become an asshole. He’s always been one. And I think I knew it. And still, I stayed. What does that say about me?”
There was another of Jackson’s patented silences. When he spoke his voice was even softer.
“All it says about you is that you wanted someone to love you. And that isn’t a c
rime, David. Don’t we all want that, ultimately?”
“You wouldn’t have done it. You wouldn’t have let someone treat you like that.”
Jackson exhaled heavily. “Do you remember the night in the car, when we were talking about why I moved home?”
Of course he remembered. David had thought more than once that Jackson’s ex must be some sort of idiot to let him go. “Yeah.”
“His name is Stephen. Stephen Addison Hall the third.”
“Wow, that’s pretentious.”
Jackson chuckled. “That should have been my first clue actually. That he lived up to the name. He comes from money—a lot of it. His dad is a lawyer. It was something we had in common, although his dad is in the DA’s office and mine was always in corporate law. I met him at a friend’s housewarming. I thought he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
David didn’t want to be jealous of an ex, but he was.
“I should have looked closer. Listened more carefully when he was dismissive of people. He has a wicked sense of humor, but what I thought was him being funny was actually him being a jerk. It wasn’t so bad, until he turned it on me.”
“Was he stupid?”
Jackson chuckled darkly. “No, but I was. The first time I let him make me the butt of a joke, I should have walked away. But I didn’t. I stayed, and every time he made a little joke and was ‘just kidding,’ I let him take a little bit more of my self-worth.” He paused, then cleared his throat roughly. “The point is, you aren’t the only one who’s put his faith in the wrong person, okay?”
It was David’s turn to pause. He couldn’t imagine anyone being dumb enough to let Jackson go. He supposed he should be grateful, though. For both Trevor and Stephen. Without them, he and Jackson wouldn’t be where they were. “Yeah, okay.”
“And I want you to listen to me.” David could imagine the look on Jackson’s face that went with the resolute tone: eyes level, his chin dropped down so that he was looking at David from beneath the arched brows. “No judge is going to order you to pay more than you make every month. So try to relax, try to let it go for tonight, and try to get a good night’s sleep. Have a glass of wine or four, all right? Not so much you end up with a headache, but enough you can relax.”
David, Renewed Page 15
