Relaxed to the point of inertia, I rolled over beside Jack, listening to his breathing settling back to normal.
«That was great,» he said drowsily. He kissed my ear – I think he was aiming for my temple.
«Mmm,» I murmured. And it had been great, but I still felt a little let down. Probably nothing more than physical exhaustion; it had been a long damn day, and it was liable to be a long damn night – which was the last thing I needed, and more than likely to tempt fate.
But Jack turned his head on the black pillow and studied me with peaceful gray eyes. «Okay?» «Yep. Great.» «Okay if I sleep?» So it had just been a mutual jerk off. I nodded wearily, sat up.
His hand smoothed over my back. «Hey.» He drew me back down. «Where're you going? There's room in this birdbath for two.» I hesitated, remembering the last time – wondering if he'd forgotten. «Turn the light out, Tim,» he said.
I turned the light out and gave in to the tug of his hand, settling down beside him once more.
«Night,» Jack said, his breath light and warm against my face. Judging by the sound of his breathing a few moments later he must have plunged instantly into sleep. «Night,» I murmured, and dived in after him. * * * * *
I opened my eyes to a long row of pristine and beautifully pressed shirts hanging in an open closet. It was clearly not my closet. There was a shoe rack on the floor beneath a second row of trousers and pants, and one of those belt caddy things. Jack actually hung up his Levi's.
Lifting my head, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Early still. Five-thirty. Jack's alarm wasn't going to ring for another hour and forty-five minutes. I laid there in the rosy morning light and studied his sleeping face: the curve of black lashes against his purpling cheekbone, the relaxed line of his mouth, the stubborn jut of his bristly jaw.
I thought about kissing those softly parted lips, but things were liable to be different in the daylight.
Jack's lashes quivered, lifted. His eyes – almost blue in the tentative sunlight –scrutinized me for a moment, then he smiled, a sleepy, sort of sweet smile. I felt my belly tighten with desire. «Morning,» I said.
«Morning.» He reached up and brushed the tiny gold stud in my ear with a fingertip. «Sleep okay?»
«I did.» I was a little surprised at that; I'd enjoyed the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time. «Sore?»
I grimaced, glancing down at the bruises mottling my arms and shoulders. «He landed a few good punches, yeah. I'll feel better after a swim.»
«I'll swim with you.» He grinned, the dimple showing briefly. «But not just yet.»
Round two was lazy and loose, both of us taking time and trouble, trying this, that, and the other – we both seemed to like the other a lot. Jack had an instinct for what felt terrific, an astonishing delicacy and playfulness given his strength and vocation.
Before long I was in a state of screaming – and only Jack's mouth on mine kept that from being literal truth – tension. He fingered my balls, weighing, teasing, fondling – then just when I thought I couldn't take another second of it – he moved to my cock, tracing one finger along the cleft, running the circle of finger and thumb up and down my swollen length. I needed to feel his hand around me. Needed to feel that firm grip working me, needed to feel the blaze of friction grazing up, gliding down. I fumbled my hand on top of his, trying to guide him, moaning in abject relief when his fingers wrapped around me. «Yes. Yes. Yes…»
The pull and pump sped up, and I thrust fiercely against Jack's fist. I'm not sure why it was so much better than jerking myself off, but it was. Something about handing over that control, letting someone else drive. And Jack had a real sense for what felt great, that mix of imagination and empathy – or maybe it was just a hell of a lot of experience.
I wanted it to last forever, but a few more knowing tugs and I was coming in creamy surges, reduced in moments to boneless satisfaction.
«Oh…wow,» I breathed as Jack finally rolled over onto his back. He turned his head and grinned at me. «On a scale of one to ten?»
«Is that Richter scale? Cities toppled.» I eyed him, lying there, legs splayed, thick cock still stiff and erect.
I listened to the soothing rustle of water beneath us, and all I wanted was to close my eyes and go back to sleep, but I made an effort and pushed up, positioning myself between Jack's long brown legs. «What are you up to?» He smiled a languorous smile.
I touched the sticky pearl at the head of his cock. «Speaking for yourself, yeah?» And I took him into my mouth. Salty taste, familiar scent…oh, Jack… He groaned, «Oh, yeah!» And his back bowed.
His shaft was very straight, thick, strong – beautiful as it jutted out of the dark nest of curls. It deserved my full attention, and I gave it to him, sucking hard, then soft, taking him deep inside and then barely grazing the slick head with my tongue. Jack encouraged me with throaty noises and soft shivers.
His eyes were shining and warm, his hands gentle as they locked on my shoulders, drawing me closer, urging me on. I kissed his cock, his balls – nuzzled lower and he bucked. I smiled, rose, and fastened my lips around his shaft again, probing beneath the crown with my tongue. «Oh. My. God,» he groaned.
I began to suck him hard, pursuing, insisting, and I felt surrender well up and flow through him – the white flag spilling into my mouth.
At last he showed signs of returning life, shifting, urging me up beside him, folding me into his arms. We drifted there for a time, snoozing lightly while the waterbed lulled us.
We woke the next time when the air conditioner kicked on. It was going to be another scorcher of a day. I pulled away from Jack, my skin sticky and damp where I had rested against him. «A swim sounds good,» he mumbled.
I nodded, sitting up and looking around for my jeans. «I'll meet you downstairs?» «Or we could just shower and have breakfast.» I glanced over my shoulder. He looked supremely relaxed – and content. «I need to work the kinks out,» I said. He smiled – a very sexy smile. «I like your kinks.»
Well, one thing was for sure: he wasn't one of these guys who couldn't wait to kick you out after getting his rocks off – not normally, anyway. Our first time he hadn't showed much interest in lingering.
I said, dragging my Levi's on and standing up, «So…what other problems do you think I have?» «What?» «Last night you said my not talking about my epilepsy indicated other problems.» His brows drew together. «Come on, Tim. I didn't know you.»
«You don't know me now, but you're willing to sleep with me again. What changed?»
All the easy contentment was gone from his face; his gaze was unwavering, and his mouth unsmiling. His game face. At least I wasn't going to hear a bunch of platitudes to coax me back into bed.
«All I knew about you was that you used to be a reporter and that you were on disability.» His eyes met mine directly. «You didn't seem disabled, and in my line of work I've known a lot of people who try and take advantage of the system. You said you were estranged from your family and you didn't seem to have any friends or outside social life.» He shrugged.
I listened to this with mounting anger. He was so exactly what my wounded self-confidence didn't need. I said, «My parents – my mother – didn't take the news that I was gay very well. In fact, she pretty much gave me an ultimatum. I could have my family or my 'lifestyle.' And my dad, though he didn't agree, just went along with her. Then when I got
hit, suddenly she – they – decided all was forgiven, and I should move home – after essentially not speaking to me for five years, they want me to move home.» «Sometimes it takes a close call like that to wake people up.»