Flame

by J. P. Scott

  “I’ll make some room in the bedroom closet. Just let me know what you’ll need. I did consolidate stuff in the dresser and there are two drawers you can use there.

  He came over and kissed me on the cheek. “I guess we’re boyfriends now, huh?”

  I liked the sound of that. And the fact that I liked it really surprised me. Boyfriends and relationship were complicated. I had enough complications in my life right now. Still, I could not imagine Jonathan still living in his camper up the hill.

  “I need to head into town to get some supplies. Cabin five is empty for a few days, right?”

  “New guests check in on Monday.”

  “I should be able to get a few things done in there. Do you need me to pick up anything?”

  I pointed towards the outer office. “I was putting together a grocery list. It’s on the registration desk. If it’s not too much of a problem?”

  “I’ll happily pick up the groceries if you’re going to make it.” I had discovered that Jonathan hated cooking and would be content with cereal and microwaveable dinners for every meal. Neither were hard to make and both were easy to clean up. Having another person to cook for had me excited to be in the kitchen again. Without George here, it had been hard to get inspired to make much of anything. Now, I kept thinking about my favorite recipes wanting to see if I could expand Jonathan’s tastes.

  “I won’t be too long.” He kissed me again and then headed out. A few minutes later, I heard my car’s engine fire up and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires as he drove down the drive to the highway. It made more sense that he drives my car instead of the pickup for the long drive.

  Behind me, I heard the boxes he had just stacked tumble over. I spun around but was too late to reach out and keep them from falling. The flaps on the top box popped open and the contents spilled out on the floor. The box that had been at the bottom of the stack now had a crushed corner. I grabbed it and moved it out of the way. It was light did not feel like It had much inside. It probably should have been a box at the top.

  I scooped up the contents of the box that had spilled and tucked in the flaps. I tested each box for weight and set about stacking them with the heavier boxes on the bottom. For the crushed box, I did a mental scan of the office, trying to remember if I had any unused boxes sitting around. Some office supplies had come in the mail. Had I thrown the box in the recycle? I stepped out to the outer office and smiled—the box was tucked under the registration desk in the corner.

  “That should work nicely,” I said to myself as I retrieved it and set in on top of the desk next to the damaged box. The new box was smaller, but should be able to hold the contents. I began transferring from one box to another some files and batches of paper bound by metal clips. It looks like important papers for previous tax filings and other documents that Jonathan needed to keep with him but did not need on a regular basis. Perhaps that is why he put the box on the bottom of the stack, knowing he did not need to retrieve any items soon.

  I reached in for the last bundle and pulled out of envelopes and folded pieces of paper. They were bound with string tied into a bow. They all appeared to be from the same person and from the same stationary set. I thumbed the side of the stack to get a peek at each envelope and page, seeing a consistent handwriting as well. I flipped the stack over, exposing part of a letter that had not been tucked into an envelope. I read the final like, “I will love you always. G.”

  Were these love letters from the man that broke Jonathan’s heart? The memory of this man and the love the two had shared was something Jonathan still carried with him. It made sense that he would still keep the love letters the man had written him. What had it been, fifteen years since their relationship ended? That was a long time to keep anything like this, especially with the amount of moving around he did in his camper.

  I was curious to know more but also feeling guilty that I was going through his personal belongings. I placed the letters into the new box, closed it up, and took it into the stack.

  I sat down at the registration desk and looked over the list of cabins and the upcoming changes to the guests. I had not been able to rent out Alex’s cabin, yet. However, the empty cabin might be able to allow me to move some guests around so that Jonathan could work in some of the other cabins sooner. He might even be able to tackle bigger tasks.

  I tried to focus on putting together a plan and figuring out all the pieces, but I could not stop thinking about the letters. Most of all, I was thinking about the signature. “G.” An interesting choice for signing a name. A nickname? A pet name from Jonathan—who sometimes went by J.C.?

  What had Jonathan looked like fifteen years ago? He was a handsome man now, but how much more of a stud had he been then? The sun had not had its chance to weather the skin. Were there even hints of wrinkles around the eyes back then?

  It was a different time to be in love fifteen years ago. Society was not as accepting. Not only would Jonathan and G have to navigate the pitfalls of a relationship, but would have to deal with the pressures of society’s views. Why had G broken things off? Had he fallen out of love? Had he met someone else? Or did an unaccepting world drive them apart?

  Was “G “still alive and in the area? Would Jonathan possibly cross paths with this man? What would happen if he did? How strongly did Jonathan hang on to the idea of being in love with this man? Was he still thinking about Jonathan?

  Something was bothering me about the timeframe. Fifteen years ago—was that when George’s friend killed himself? Alex had just spent way too much time digging into the past. Would it be possible that “G” was Gray Whitlock? What were the odds that Jonathan would show up now after Alex uncovered the truth behind Gray’s death? Or had he? Was the real reason Gray killed himself was that he was torn up over his love for Jonathan?

  The answer to that question could be as simple as looking at the letters in the box. However, I refused to do what Alex did and poke my nose into places it did not belong. Love letters—hell, even regular letters—were no one’s business but the person who wrote them or received them.

  If things progressed with Jonathan and it seemed like he was still hung up on the past, then it would be time for a conversation about dealing with those old feelings. Other than that, the only thing I would say to Jonathan about the letters is that I moved them to a new box.

  Taking the high road was easier said than done. For the rest of the day, whenever I walked into the back office, I looked right at the stack of boxes and wondered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I spent most of the afternoon on the phone with George. As much as I wanted to drive down to Payson and see him, there needed to be someone to man the desk. It was moments like these that I wished Alex was still around to cover for me. There was never any urgent matter that arose, but I did not want to leave the place unattended in case someone stopped in.

  “I’m having trouble with ten across.” We had started doing the crossword together. Or at least, my part. George usually had it finished before he was done with breakfast.

  “Haven’t you ever watched TV?” George got frustrated with me when I claimed to not know a pop culture answer from before 1990. I had indeed seen that particular show and knew the name of the character that was being referenced. It was a common word used in crosswords. I would select some responses and pretended not to know them. George would begin to educate me on the show, actor, author, movie, or whatever the clue and answer were about. If I chose the right one, I would get a ten-minute history lesson. It made me smile for him to go off on a tangent and I hoped it got his brain turning.

  Eventually, the conversation turned to the business. George kept a list of the chores next to his puzzle books. “You’re making good progress.”

  “Jonathan is doing a good job. He works hard.”

  “You must be keeping your hands off of him.”

  It was only earlier this summer that I knew George knew that I was gay. Any talk about men always surp
rised me. “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t slept with him yet, have you?”

  “Why would even ask me that, George?”

  George laughed, “Isn’t it obvious? Ethan left you. Alex is gone. New man pops onto the scene. It stands to reason you might try to get into his pants. He’s gay, too, in case you haven’t picked up on that.”

  “How have you picked up on that?”

  “It was pretty well-known. I’m surprised I haven’t heard people talking about you. That’s the way it goes up here. Everyone loves to gossip. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to hear the gossip, they’ll tell you.”

  It was interesting which gossip people loved to spread. People talked about Jonathan—if I believed George. However, when Alex was looking into Gray Whitlock’s death, no one wanted to say anything. Was it because he was dead that the gossip became less fun to talk about? Did the person have to be someone you could point to in the store?

  “Is that why you didn’t want me to hire him? Because he’s gay?”

  “I never said you shouldn’t hire him.”

  That was true, but when I reflected back on the day that I told him about Jonathan, he had acted like I might be getting myself up for trouble by hiring him. He had told me to go ahead, but it never felt like he really wanted me to hire him.

  “You just didn’t want me to sleep with him.”

  “Of course not. Keep your dick in your pants. You don’t think I was lonely after Anna died? Did I go sleep with any woman who wanted to have me in her bed? I did not.”

  This call was taking a turn I had not expected. I had never thought about my uncle being with anyone else besides Aunt Anna. But after she died, why would he not seek out some companionship? Maybe he would never marry again, but what was wrong with a date and a romp in the sack?

  “I’m not going to get your permission to sleep with someone. And I don’t think it’s anything I want to be talking with you about over the phone.”

  “Shit, Josh. I’m just bored to death down here. I want to come home.”

  My heart ached. Even surrounded by nurses and other patients, he had to feel like he was all by himself. No real friends. No familiar belongings. Nothing to remind him of Anna and their years together.

  “I’ll talk to your doctor and see what we can do.” George seemed to be doing well, but being lively on the phone did not equate with good health.

  I tried to change the subject and we chatted for a few more minutes, but I could tell George’s mood had changed. I doubted I would be able to cheer him up. I said goodbye and hung up.

  I headed back to the bedroom. The office was still technically open, but I wanted a retreat.

  In fact, I needed more than a retreat. I needed Jonathan here to kiss and hold me. His embrace had a good way of centering me and making me feel safe. I could let someone else be in control.

  I threw myself on the bed, rolling on my back to stare at the ceiling. Since he had moved in, we had made good use of the toys that Alex had left behind. The cuffs were pretty much ours and may have to be written off as a loss if Alex went looking for them. Every time Jonathan put them around my wrists, I got hard with excitement to see what new device he might use to tease my body. The riding crop was a favorite, but there was also a feather that had made me come with just a tickle. This morning Jonathan had blindfolded me and sucked me off.

  Never had I gone this long having sex with someone without there being penetration. If I was always tied up, it gave few opportunities to try to top Jonathan. But why was Jonathan showing such restraint? He knew I wanted him, even if his size and length were too much. I wanted him inside of me.

  “I want it,” I would beg.

  Jonathan would whisper, “Soon.” Then he would jerk off and shoot his load on me.

  Did it have to do with “G”? Was he holding out on making love to someone else? How long could he continue to do that before we ran out of alternatives?

  I heard the office door open and loud sounds of someone moving around and setting bags and boxes on the registration desk. I started to get up to check on it when I saw Jonathan enter the back office and then come into the bedroom. I returned to my original position as he came in.

  “Nap time?”

  “Oh, needed to lay down after a chat with George.”

  “Do you need me to watch the office one day?”

  “I need you to continue doing what you’re doing. I can close up for a morning or afternoon sometime and go down and see him. He’s sad about not being here and at a loss for what to do with his time.”

  Jonathan crawled onto the bed and stretched out beside me. He lifted his arm up and invited me into be close to him. I moved in quickly and his hand fell onto my back.

  Normally by this time of day he smelled like sweat and grime from a day working. Instead, since he had been running errands, he still smelled like the body wash and the spice scent.

  “Anything I can do?”

  I started to shake my head, but stopped myself. There was something he could do. He could finally take me.

  Or maybe I needed to take him.

  I rolled out of his hold and opened the nightstand drawer that was the new home to our favorite toys. I pulled out the cuffs and turned back to him. “Do you trust me?”

  “That’s my line,” he said.

  I took his left arm and pulled it up to the headboard and cuffed him. I crawled on top of him, straddling his waist and repeated with the right hand. I had watched him do it several times and was able to copy Jonathan’s quick process.

  “Blindfold or no blindfold?”

  He grinned, pulling the smile to one side, “None. I want to watch you.”

  I climbed off of him and unbuttoned his jeans, then slid down the zipper. With the jeans loosened, I grabbed the waist and began to tug the jeans down his body, the denim turning inside out.

  “I’m not complaining, but I will never understand how you get away with free-balling when you have that huge cock.” There had to be times when he got erect in public. With nothing to keep him restrained, how did he not become very obvious?

  Jonathan laughed but did not answer.

  I tossed his shoes, socks, and jeans to the side. I climbed up on the bed and began to kiss his right leg near the ankle. I moved further up, kissing as I went, sometimes moving over to the left leg. When I got to his crotch, I pressed my nose close and inhaled, enjoying the musky scent. I teased the sack with my tongue, flitting the tip of from side to side and working my way up, closer to the shaft. Jonathan moaned and I heard the cuffs clink against the headboard.

  I looked up at him and he was trying to look down at me. We were barely able to see each other’s eyes from the angle and with his large cock growing in between us.

  Now was the time to finally do what I had been wanting to do all this time. Still, the sight of him made me question if it was possible.

  I stood up and walked around to the nightstand and grabbed the lube. I squeezed some out onto my hand and grabbed his cock and stroked it. It was solid and the shaft twitched as I hit sensitive spots in my movement. I applied more to be sure and then added lube to my ass and then climbed back on the bed and positioned myself in a straddle.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  I was not sure, but I was determined for it to be today. Like I had practiced with the dildo, I angled the tip of Jonathan’s cock towards my hole and began to lean back to put pressure. My hand reached back to grab his cock near the base of the shaft to steady it. I breathed in and out deeply, then added more pressure. My muscles started to relax and he began to slide in.

  “Fuck, Josh. Fuck, that feels so good.”

  His words encouraged me to keep moving backwards. I was grateful I had practiced. Still, he filled me and stretched me. I began to rock so that he slid out a bit and then back in. As I moved, I felt myself relax more and dared to lean back further.

  I looked down at Jonathan. He was smiling, enjoying the sensation. I a
lso hoped the enjoyed that he was not in control for a change. For me, I felt empowered to decide how this would play out. I could let him in deeper or stay the way it was. I could go faster, or keep the slow pace. He was mine to do with as I pleased.

  The only part I was missing was the feeling of Jonathan’s hands on me while I rode him. When I was the top, I loved the hold onto the bottom’s hips, play with his nipples, or jerk him. Jonathan could do none of that, but I knew there would be other times when we could ditch the cuffs and explore each other better. Today, it was about turning the tables on who was in control and my overcoming the fear of taking him.

  I stopped rocking for a moment and leaned down. I kissed him. His lips would be the only thing that I allowed to touch me.

  “I’m close,” he said. I returned to rocking, this time at a faster pace. Soon, Jonathan grunted as his body shook. I felt him soften and leaned forward and let him fall out. I reached up to undo the cuffs from his wrists, leaving them attached to the bedposts. Maybe that would come in handy later tonight.

  I leaned down and kissed him again. Then, I rolled to his side and reclined next to him.

  “Wow. I’m impressed,” Jonathan looked into my eyes and played with my hair. “I’m used to people being intimidated.”

  “I’m definitely intimidated. You’re one of the biggest I’ve seen, and I’m usually the top.”

  “You could have fooled me.” As strange as it was, that was a compliment. Not all bottoms were created equal.

  “You’ll have to show me what you’ve got next.”

  Jonathan made a sound that was both a laugh and a cough. “Oh, really?”

  “I’m not bottoming every time. We will need to share that responsibility.”

  “Well, until we figure it out, we clearly have lots of other options to help us get off in case no one is in the mood.” He pulled me close and kissed my forehead, “And I promise you I will take some turns.” We stayed like that for a few minutes before Jonathan said, “You know the easiest solution would be to find a bottom we could share.”