Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  “Like I said, I don’t mind. But, because you’re a teacher, some parents—"

  “It’s not true,” Joel blurted. “I’m not involved with anyone.”

  After a pause, Jackie said, “I see. Well. I just wanted you to be aware of the rumor—you know what people can be like.”

  “Yes.” Joel stood, stiff-legged and tense. He felt dizzy but refused to sit back down. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread the…rumor any further.”

  Jackie looked up at him, one hand pressed to her chest. “Mr. Morgan, I’m the soul of discretion.”

  Joel gave a curt nod and left, trying to get his breathing under control.

  In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four...

  Eyes on his feet, he stalked to his classroom in silence. But as his panic receded, it revealed a darker emotion, like a dead thing left behind on the shore at low tide.

  Shame.

  He’d denied his relationship with Ollie, lied about it. Acted like a coward. What the hell would Ollie think?

  But Ollie, for all that he was out, couldn’t understand the humiliation of being subject to this kind of gossip and speculation. It was excruciating—and it would be painful for Ollie, too, because it would involve Rory. Joel unlocked his classroom, soothing himself with that thought. By hiding the truth, he was protecting not only himself but Rory and Ollie. Thinking about Rory being teased or bullied because of their relationship was unbearable. He wouldn’t allow it.

  His breathing slowed, muscles unclenching. Yes, he’d been right to nip the story in the bud. They needed to keep everything quiet for now. It was safer for them all that way.

  For the rest of the day he tried to put the conversation with Jackie out of his mind, instead talking to the kids about their Thanksgiving and getting them settled enough to do some learning. As always, the busy school day grounded him. The demands of the children left no room for his mind to dwell on things it shouldn’t, it kept him from restlessly turning over the whats and whys of the situation. It was only later, when the school was quiet again and he sat in his empty classroom, that he allowed himself to wonder how the rumor had started.

  Had Jackie guessed after surprising them together in the shed? Or had they given themselves away at dinner on Friday night? Maybe someone had seen them together at the weekend? He remembered that kiss by the lighthouse. Or could it be Alyssa? No, even if she suspected, Alyssa wouldn’t gossip. Would she?

  And then he recalled seeing Ollie laughing with a couple of the other moms last week. Surely Ollie wouldn’t have said anything; he’d promised not to. But people made promises all the time that they later broke…

  The question circled his mind for the rest of the day. Overnight, it turned dragon-dark and winged before morning brought the return of sunlight and reason. Of course Ollie hadn’t told anyone about them. Why would he? He understood Joel’s reason for wanting to keep things quiet. He shared it, for Rory’s and Luis’s sake if nothing else.

  Joel looked for him Tuesday morning, as the kids came into school, but if Ollie was there Joel didn’t spot him. Ollie did text, though, a quick: Still on for tonight?

  The lurch in Joel’s stomach at the sight of Ollie’s name on his screen was half excitement and half anxiety. People knew, they’d guessed. Yet the prospect of not seeing Ollie felt worse than the risk of being seen at his place. Hell, why did he always feel so much? Why couldn’t he just take things casual, like normal guys?

  A question for Amy, perhaps. Next time.

  Whatever the reason, adrenaline had him skittish as he got ready Tuesday evening. He chose jeans and a sweater, because winter was biting hard and it was a twenty-minute cycle to Ollie’s apartment. A clear night though, and the roads were dry and well gritted so there was no danger of ice. Even so, his cheeks felt stiff with cold by the time he reached Ollie’s apartment and locked his bike into the rack. From his pannier he pulled a bottle of wine and stuffed his cycle helmet inside instead.

  He ran a hand through his hair and pressed the buzzer on Ollie’s door, fingers tingling, adrenaline flowing. Was he nervous about seeing Ollie again, or excited? It was difficult to tell. He was—

  Excited.

  He knew because when Ollie opened the door, looking comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt, Joel’s lips curved into a smile at least as broad as Ollie’s grin.

  “Hey, come in.” Ollie stepped back and Joel glanced over his shoulder to check— To check what? That nobody was watching? He was being ridiculous. “You brought wine,” Ollie said, taking it from him. “Thank you.”

  “Especially good with pizza.”

  The hallway was lit only by the light from upstairs, lending it a dusky intimate feel when Ollie closed the front door. His dark eyes caught the light, though, gleaming as he smiled. “Everything tastes good with pizza.” Then he leaned in, hesitated, and Joel bridged the gap, brushing their lips together.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  Ollie kissed him back. “Hi, yourself.”

  All was quiet upstairs, so Joel risked cupping the back of Ollie’s head and turning the kiss into something more serious. God, but he’d missed him. Ollie joined in with enthusiasm, despite clutching the bottle of wine between them. The awkwardness made them both laugh. “Come on,” Ollie said. “Let’s go upstairs. The boys are asleep, but we should keep it down for a while. You hungry? It’s just store-bought pizza—hope that’s okay? Two for four bucks, though. Pretty good, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Truth was, Joel hadn’t had to look at prices in a long time, and that realization was somehow sobering. Surprising, the things you took for granted, that you didn’t even think about.

  But whatever they’d cost, the pizzas smelled great and right then Joel would have been happy eating cardboard if it was with Ollie. He felt that sense of connection return, the feeling of being drawn to him, reeled in like a fish on a line. He’d felt it from day one. And each time they were together it grew stronger.

  Ollie’s tiny living room was welcoming and cozy, and he’d set plates out on the coffee table instead of the dining table. Maybe he wanted to watch TV? The thought of curling up on Ollie’s sofa with him, eating pizza and watching TV together, was almost better than the promise of ‘Scrabble’ later. In fact, there was no almost about it. Not that he didn’t enjoy sex, but comfort and affection outside the bedroom had always been equally important to Joel. Did that make him weird?

  “You like salad?” Ollie said, appearing with a couple of bowls. “It’s just leaves really, but—”

  “Salad is good. Thanks.” He watched, stupidly touched as Ollie set the bowls down. When was the last time anyone—excluding his mom—had made him a meal? Four years, give or take. His throat tightened unexpectedly, and when Ollie straightened Joel caught him around the waist with one arm and kissed him lightly. It took a moment to find his voice, but when he did, he said, “This is great. Thank you.”

  “Hey, you fed me for a whole weekend, it’s the least I can do.” Ollie smiled, but it was quizzical, like he was trying to read something in Joel’s eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “Me too,” Joel said. “A lot.”

  Another look passed between them, lingering and enquiring, each trying to get a read on the other. It was only broken by the soft beeping of an oven timer. Ollie smiled, “Take a seat, I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Joel sat. He’d left his shoes downstairs by the door and tucked one socked-foot under him on the sofa. It was, he realized now he looked more closely, a sofa bed, and jammed between it and the wall were pillows and a duvet. Because, of course, this was a one bed apartment. The reality of what that meant hit like a splash of cold water: Ollie didn’t even have his own bedroom.

  “It’s a bit further from the kids’ room,” Ollie was saying as he padded back in, carrying a plate piled with pizza. “They’re pretty good, though, once they’re asleep. TV doesn’t bother them. I can even go in there and put their laundry away without waking them
up.” He smiled and set down the plate. “Want to catch a little CSI while we eat?”

  Joel did, and it was perfect. Got even better once they’d finished eating and Ollie rearranged himself close enough that Joel could rest his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers toy with the hair next to Ollie’s ear. The contact made Ollie look over, eyes smiling, and then lean in to rest his head against Joel’s shoulder. And that? That got Joel’s stomach fluttering. Wrapping an arm around him, Joel drew him closer and smiled when Ollie’s hand settled on his leg.

  “This is nice,” Ollie said, snuggling in.

  Joel kissed his hair. It smelled like apple-scented shampoo. “Yeah.”

  For a while, they sat like that, Joel’s fingers drawing slow patterns on Ollie’s arm, Ollie’s thumb stroking backward and forward over Joel’s thigh—affectionate, lightly arousing. A promise of more. Joel felt content and…yes, there it was, that soaring treacherous emotion: happiness. He felt happy, sitting there with Ollie snug against him, watching TV together. A simple pleasure, but those were the most easily lost.

  Talking of which…

  “Jackie had a word with me yesterday.”

  Ollie lifted his head, looked at him. His eyes were dark in the lamplight, a delicious deep toffee brown. “About what?”

  “Apparently there’s a rumor about us going around school.”

  Ollie’s expression was difficult to read. “Okay.”

  “Did you…? Did you say anything? Tell anyone or—?”

  “Me? No.” He sat up, pulling out of Joel’s arms. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “It’s just that I can’t work out where it could have started.”

  “Well it wasn’t from me.” He sounded offended and moved to sit on the edge of the sofa, elbows on knees and shoulders hunching forward. “Is it a problem for you? At school, I mean.”

  “You know it could be, with certain parents.”

  Ollie ran his fingers through his hair. “So…what did you tell her?”

  “I, um…” A wave of prickling unease crept down his spine. Or maybe it was shame, again.

  “You denied it.” Ollie gave him a flat look out the corner of his eye and something knotted in Joel’s chest.

  “It’s nobody’s business but ours. And it’s still so new. You’re the first person I’ve… The first person I’ve wanted to…to…be with since Helen. I’m still trying to deal with that.” He fell silent, and when Ollie didn’t speak, Joel added, “I know that probably sounds lame. But I struggled for a long time after Helen left—this is frightening.”

  Ollie considered him, but he looked less stiff, warmth returning to his eyes. “Frightening?”

  “And exciting.” Joel tentatively reached out and Ollie took his hand, squeezing his fingers. “I just can’t deal with people gossiping about us yet.”

  “I’m not keen on secrets,” Ollie said, then paused for a moment and frowned. “But I guess I do understand needing to keep some…elements of your life private. At least until they’re, uh, resolved.”

  “That’s it exactly.” Joel threaded their fingers together. “I just need to take things slowly. If that’s okay with you?”

  Shifting closer, Ollie smiled. “Yeah, slow’s okay. But I promised I wouldn’t say anything, Joel, and I need you to trust me. It’s important.”

  “I know,” he said, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Good.” Ollie ran a knuckle over his cheekbone, eyebrows rising invitingly. “So, you still up for some ‘Scrabble’?”

  Joel laughed, a burst of relief after the tension. “Is it safe? With the kids next door, I mean.”

  “They’re heavy sleepers.” Ollie scooted closer and Joel gathered him in. Soft sweatshirt, firm body beneath: it was a heady combination and ran through him like a shot of whiskey. “Hmm,” Ollie breathed, bumping their noses together, then brushing his lips across Joel’s mouth. Firm fingers trailed over his groin, and his rapidly filling cock, as Ollie smiled against his lips. “Definitely ‘up’ for it.”

  Not whiskey, Joel decided, as his brain filled with fizz: champagne. Kissing Ollie was as heady as a good champagne. He leaned back, taking Ollie with him, until they were sprawled together on the small sofa, lips locked and hands sliding under sweaters and shirts in search of warm skin. Ollie’s lips began working along the line of Joel’s jaw, soft kisses and nibbles until he found the lobe of Joel’s ear and sucked gently. Joel bit down on his startled shout, hands fisting the back of Ollie’s sweater as he rode the intense sensation. “God,” he growled. “God, do that—ah, God, yes.”

  Ollie laughed, a soft sweet sound right next to his ear, and continued his assault. Why his earlobe should have a direct line to his cock, Joel didn’t know, but those soft, nibbling kisses had Joel close to coming and he hadn’t even unbuttoned his jeans. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was just Ollie.

  “Fuck, you’re responsive,” Ollie said, sitting up and unbuttoning his jeans with an urgency that matched Joel’s thundering heart.

  “Because you’re a damned magician.” Joel’s hands felt clumsy as he fumbled his own fly open and freed his straining cock with a grunt of relief.

  With a soft laugh, Ollie reached for him, a long, slow stroke with his magic fingers. “What do you want?”

  Everything. That was the simple answer. I want to touch you, to be touched. To be intimate in every sense of the word. His gaze flicked over Ollie’s shoulder toward the corner of wall that hid the kids’ bedroom door. “They really won’t wake up?”

  “Not likely.”

  Hell, but it added a strange kind of frightening frisson to proceedings. Speed, Joel decided, was of the essence. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t be good. He pushed himself up, dislodging Ollie who laughed as he tipped sideways against the back of the sofa. Joel slid down onto the floor, onto his knees. He looked up. “You like this?”

  Ollie’s eyes were round and dark, a delicious flush of pink rising along his cheekbones—desire, not embarrassment. “Fuck, yes,” he said in a low voice, and settled enthusiastically on the sofa with Joel between his thighs.

  What a view he had of that nicely formed cock standing to attention, and the anticipatory flutter of Ollie’s abs as Joel kneeled up to taste the moisture beading at the tip. “Good,” he murmured. It had been a long time since he’d done this, but it had always been a pleasure—something rare and special. More intimate than anything else, because of the level of trust involved on both sides. He licked the head of Ollie’s cock, relishing the sound of his sharp indrawn breath, then kissed him there, generous and open mouthed.

  Ollie flexed beneath him, probably struggling to keep his hips still. “Joel…” God, that voice, sweet and soft and pleading.

  He kissed him again, taking him deeper, caressing with tongue and lips. Just the head, teasing him. Ollie’s fingers gripped his hair, the slight tug sparking sensation down his spine to his own eager cock. Reaching down, he gave himself a couple of careful strokes to ease the tension, and then returned his focused to Ollie. He glanced up under his lashes and found Ollie’s gaze locked on him, lips slightly parted and glossed by the tip of his tongue, eyes lust-blown to black, dark curls falling across his forehead, and his chest rising and falling quickly. Delicious, debauched, devastating.

  Closing his eyes, Joel took him as deep as he could go, humming his pleasure as Ollie gasped and writhed, fingers knotting harder in Joel’s hair. “GodohGodohfuck…”

  And then Joel went for it, fast and deep. And, God, the sounds Ollie made—high, urgent gasps of surprised pleasure. They drove Joel wild. Everything about Ollie drove him wild.

  He could feel his own orgasm building; it had been there from the first touch of Ollie’s fingers through the rough fabric of his jeans, the first brush of their lips. And it was rising fast, even with his cock largely untouched. Everything was tensing and burning.

  “Joel.” Ollie tugged at his hair urgently. “Gonna come…” Joel resisted the pull at his hair, went dow
n deep again, cupped his hand beneath Ollie’s tightening balls. “Jesus!” Ollie gasped, and Joel pulled off just in time to see him arch back, hips lifting off the sofa as the first pulse of his release erupted. Breathless, Joel slid his hand around Ollie’s cock, worked him through his orgasm, transfixed by Ollie’s screwed shut eyes and the intense mewls of pleasure leaving his gasping mouth.

  When Ollie finally collapsed, catching his breath, Joel leaned in and kissed the tender juncture of groin and thigh. He could feel Ollie trembling and a great wash of affection rushed over him. He wrapped his arms around Ollie’s waist and kissed the sharp arch of his hipbone, eyes closed, breathing in his warmth and scent.

  “Hey,” Ollie said after a while, fondling Joel’s hair. When he looked up, Ollie opened his arms in invitation, face soft and smiling. “Come here.”

  He did, settling on the sofa as Ollie crawled into his lap, nuzzling at his neck and jaw, biting at his earlobe with tender teeth as he took Joel’s cock in his hand. It took no time at all to bring him off, not with that joint assault of ear and cock, and Ollie’s languid body in his arms. Joel came with a hot gasp, bucking up into Ollie’s firm grip, holding him tight in his arms and burying his face into Ollie’s neck. It was so painfully sweet, Joel could have cried; he felt the emotion rise like the tide, overwhelming him. And the effort of holding it in check tore open his heart, releasing something raw and frightening that he’d kept locked away for a long time.

  He dared not give it a name.

  For long dreamy minutes afterward they drowsed in each other’s arms until, eventually, Ollie snuffled a laugh into Joel’s shoulder and sat up, yawning. “We should clean up.”

  They were a sight, the pair of them, rumpled and half out of their pants, but Joel felt too suffused with bliss—with happiness, God help him—to really care. Nevertheless, he let Ollie take his hand and tug him up off the sofa, leading him into the bathroom. He borrowed a wash cloth and cleaned up, washed his hands and caught sight of himself in the mirror: hair tousled from Ollie’s frantic grip, his face and lips still flushed, mouth fixed into the helpless smile Ollie provoked.