Must Like Spinach

by Con Riley

  Hell, if Danny had made different choices, Tyler might still be with him.

  That truth makes him gruff. “Listen, I’m sorry for the guy that he couldn’t see what a good thing he had, but not sorry enough to keep from being glad that I get to be here instead. So you go ahead and take care of Peggy. Don’t even think twice about it. You’ll be helping Lorna out, and it’ll make you happy, and that’s the most important thing to me.”

  Tyler pulls him into a kiss that ends with him admitting, “It still feels selfish to me.”

  Selfish had been Jon’s first impression. It’s so far from the real truth it’s not even funny. “It’s not selfish to think about yourself for once. When was the last time you did that?” Tyler’s hair is soft against the skin of Jon’s throat. It tickles when he shrugs. “I get it,” Jon quietly says, and he lets the table behind him take some of his weight. Tyler slides so easily between his legs, like he’s made to fit there. “I get what’s been driving you since Danny left, but none of that was on you. None of it. You didn’t make Peggy leave money laying around, did you? Or make Danny take advantage of that. Has Peggy even asked you to repay what he took?”

  That soft hair tickles again when Tyler shakes his head.

  “For all you know, you probably already paid back more than he took in the first place. So maybe it’s time you let it go so you can think about all the good stuff you have going for you. You have Peggy who loves you, and you have Lorna who must see what everyone else around here does if she’s ready to trust you with the last family she has left.” It’s only natural then to add, “And you have me.”

  “For a while.”

  Tyler pulls out of his arms before he can reply. He turns to brace against the counter and look out the window over the street. His reflection is clear now it’s darker out, painting him in soft shades along with blinking neon. It’s hard to focus on the sunset when Tyler’s right there and easily twice as gorgeous. Outside, dusk stalls somewhere between night and day when Jon admits, “I want to stay for longer.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Tell you I want to stick around?” It’s so easy to run the tip of his nose from Tyler’s nape to the neck of the T-shirt he wears when his head suddenly bows. Even easier to touch his lips to the knob of his spine right over a trio of freckles he’s never noticed before. They’re clearly visible under the bright light in the kitchen. Jon wants to see all of him in the same stark relief; take his time to explore his body instead of sneaking hurried make-out sessions between his many jobs or sleeping next to him when he’s dog tired. But right now, he settles for touching those freckles lightly with his lips and smiling as Tyler reaches blindly back with both hands to keep him as close as he can, even as he says, “Don’t,” again.

  “Don’t what, Ty?” He tilts his head so his lips skim the curve of Tyler’s ear, and a touch of hesitancy comes out when he asks, “Don’t say that I want to stay, because being here longer than three months wasn’t part of the deal?” Tyler lets out a sub-vocal negative—just enough confirmation that Jon relaxes into teasing. “Did you forget I’m a business hotshot? That means I’m more than smart enough to renegotiate terms.” He pulls Tyler back a couple inches so they’re flush against each other again, his hands spanning Tyler’s chest and then lowering to the waistband of his shorts. “Pretty sure I could get you to sign off on some changes to the small print if I give you the right incentive.” One hand slips even further, fingertips tracing his cock through soft cotton jersey.

  Tyler’s next “Stop!” sounds desperate.

  Jon loosens his grip, worried for one sickening moment he’s got it all wrong until Tyler says, “Please stop saying that I’ll get to keep you too.” There’s nothing soft about his expression when he turns in Jon’s arms. It’s as hard as his words, sharp-edged now and raw. “I told myself I didn’t get to have this. I told myself from the start, so don’t tell me there’s a real chance I get to keep both of the things I want most if you’re bullshitting me right now.” His voice cracks, like something inside him is glasslike and brittle. “Don’t say it if it’s not true.”

  Jon holds Tyler by the shoulders and waits until their eyes meet. “What if it is?” He wets lips that are suddenly dry and chances a small smile. “Am I really one of two things you want most?” His smile widens when Tyler rolls his eyes.

  “If you’re about to be smug about it, you might as well go.” His grip around Jon’s neck says the opposite, as does the way he pulls him closer. “You’d stay?” There’s still an element of disbelief in his voice. “Here?”

  Watching expressions flit across his face from this close is breathtaking. Doubt is superseded by delight right before his eyes. Tyler drops hesitation like a soldier shedding armor, leaving behind a man who stands straight like his load’s much lighter. He breathes out what might be a laugh, a word, an exclamation of some sort. Deciphering it doesn’t matter when he tugs Jon into a kiss.

  He goes all out from the get-go, tongue pressing for entry, hands on both sides of Jon’s face like he might try to escape instead of opening up and reciprocating. It’s so easy now that they know how best their mouths fit together; Jon sucks on his tongue, because he knows it’ll make Tyler weak at the knees, satisfied when he sags against him for a moment and lets out a groan he swallows.

  How many other things will he get to try for the first time that’ll elicit the same weak-kneed reaction?

  How many other ways will there be to get Tyler so hot for it—for him—that a conversation can turn to foreplay in less than a minute?

  Now that he has all the time in the world, he’ll get to find out for himself. Knowing that lends momentum; Jon gets both hands under Tyler’s ass as they stumble away from the counter. He hefts him up, hallway wall taking the brunt of him grinding against a man he once seriously doubted. Now he’s sure—so sure—that they’re on exactly the same page that the few steps to the bedroom bearing Tyler’s weight aren’t even an effort. They land on the bed, struggling to strip with his legs still tight around Jon.

  Finally they’re naked, and Jon sprawls over him, his cock already heavy and thick. It leaves a dab of wetness at the hollow of Tyler’s hip that he ruts through, his mouth sliding just as slickly across the flesh of Tyler’s throat. Low-pitched groans rumble there under Jon’s lips, and Tyler’s heels press to the back of Jon’s thighs to pull him even closer. It’s a shift in position that has Jon’s cock nudging under Tyler’s balls, slipping further, its head pressing hard against his hole, which gives some under the pressure.

  They both stop, stock-still and rigid.

  The urge to keep going is relentless.

  They could fuck for real like this, face to face, and it would be so easy.

  Jesus Christ, he wants that.

  “Yeah.” Tyler answers like Jon asked him aloud. “Only, hold up.” He rolls onto his belly when Jon lifts up, and he stays face down as he scrabbles through Jon’s nightstand, triumphant as he passes back lube and a strip of rubbers. There’s no way Jon should want someone so much who taps an imaginary watch and says, “Time is money, Mr. Fournier,” and desire really shouldn’t rev his motor when Tyler demands, “Quit wasting time and do me.”

  No, there’s no reason on earth to want someone so bad who wiggles his ass and mocks him. A firm cheek fills each palm as Jon’s squeezes, and the hole he almost breached dry is shiny now with precome that he smears with a finger. The noise Tyler lets out is guttural, encouraging him to maintain that contact, pressing harder so that he groans over and over. Each sound echoes the ache in Jon’s dick while he fumbles to open the lube, drips darkening the faded rosebuds that dot the sheets from pale pink to bright fuchsia.

  Tyler’s breathing quickens when Jon slides a finger in him, followed soon with another. He’s tight and hotly slick inside, begging instead of issuing orders for once, for more, for this, for longer. That’s all too easy to promise when Tyler almost loses it right there and then, ass clenched around the stretch of two
wide knuckles. Committing to more is no big deal at all. Not if it means getting to see him roll over, red-faced and grabby, when Jon takes too long to roll on a condom. Promising anything he wants comes as naturally as settling between his spread legs and pressing his cock right where Tyler wants him. It’s as easy as kissing his squeezed-closed eyelids when he thrusts in, and in, and Jesus.

  It doesn’t matter that his eyes water when Tyler clutches handfuls of his hair. He’s only using it to haul Jon even closer. He can always grow more, but there’s no way in hell he’ll tell Tyler to let go when this slow inch-by-inch slide feels so amazing. He’s held snug, drawn in, and helpless while both their hips stutter.

  Jon wars a fierce urge to bury himself as deep as he can that Tyler has no time for. “Come on,” he urges, his eyes damp too at their corners. “Don’t you dare hold back now.”

  There’ll be time for longer fucks in their future, Jon guesses as he bites his lip and gives in. They’ll get around to taking it romantic and slow next time perhaps, but right now Tyler acts like he’s on a meter, wanting it fast and hard and God, yes! when Jon plows in with a loud slap, joining them together.

  He’s bottomed out and breathless while Tyler curls tight around him, legs hooked over his hips, and both hands sliding across skin that’s slippery with fresh sweat. His lips are slick too against the meat of Jon’s shoulder, and the groan he lets out when Jon pulls back comes with a spurt of precome. There’s no way Jon can resist touching where it puddles so wetly in his navel. He dips in the tip of his thumb that Tyler grabs hold of and sucks. It’s the hottest thing Jon’s ever witnessed first hand—he goes ahead and says so.

  “You like that?” Tyler’s breathless and sex flushed. “There’s a whole lot of things I’d suck for you—” He shuts up when Jon really fucks him, and then he gets even louder. There’s no reason to hold back when Tyler yells, almost hoarse with pleasure, and there’s zero need to go slow when each yelp lets him know just how much he loves it, until the bed thumps against the wall so hard that Jon stills for a moment.

  “Don’t stop.” Tyler’s hand is on his cock, its head visible through the tight curl of his fingers, when Jon pauses again to take in the sight. It’s a delay that earns him a tight-lipped demand. “Do me like you’re staying.”

  He lets go, giving him everything that he’s got, and Tyler comes all over his belly.

  Jon’s heart stutters at that sight, too, and at a flood of pure sensation that’s so much more than physical. It tips him over the edge as well, until they’re silent together, both of their chests heaving, the bed a complete wreck around them. “You’re definitely staying?” Tyler eventually asks, real quiet, like that fact might be in dispute.

  There’s no need to dress up his answer, not with Tyler’s head on his chest, and their fingers tangled.

  “Yeah.”

  “For how long?”

  Jon tells the truth, and it’s simple.

  “For as long as you want me.”

  Chapter 27

  SATURDAY MORNING blooms softly like the roses that smother the archway in the garden. The pink streaks in the sky that are visible through a gap in Jon’s curtains are a sailor’s warning suggesting that rain might sweep in later, but for now it’s sunny out there. The early light stripes their rumpled bed sheets, and when Tyler stretches in his sleep, one of his fingers is banded with gold.

  Noticing it must do something strange to Jon’s face.

  Tyler notices the moment he wakes, of course.

  “Been trying to figure out who you remind me of for months.” He rubs at his eyes. “When you first got here, I kept asking myself, ‘Why does that asshole look so familiar?’” He reaches out and touches the underside of Jon’s chin. “Hope no one at work sees you with your mouth hanging open like that. Not sure Forrest Gump is a look businesses will pay big bucks for.”

  “Very funny, wise guy.”

  “Thanks. I’m here all week.” Tyler yawns and then squints. “Unless you’re lying there with your mouth open because you’re waiting for me to fill it….”

  It’s impossible to take his eyes off the hand that Tyler slides under the sheets. Even masked by fabric, it’s clear what he’s touching, stroking himself like he has all the time in the world, for once, and nowhere but Jon’s bed to be. He swallows hard, but Tyler’s still paying close attention to his face. “You’re doing it again, Jon.”

  Jon closes his mouth with a click.

  “There you go.” Tyler sounds proud. “Back to your regular kind of stupid.”

  “Do I look too stupid to do this?” Jon covers Tyler’s hand under the sheets with his own.

  “Uh… I-I dunno.” Tyler’s voice comes out breathless. “How’s your hand-eye coordination?” He lifts the sheet so they both have a perfect view of how his cock looks once Jon’s hand wraps around it, and he arches his back when Jon strokes him. “Okay. Yeah. I-I think you got it.” Then, when Jon’s grip loosens, he whines, “Wait. Why’re you stopping? You need me to give you instructions again? I could draw you a diagram, if that’s easier.”

  Jon would draw a picture all of his own if his hand wasn’t so busy. He’d sketch Tyler’s torso across the glass wall at work if he could, instead of dollar signs and houses. It’s leaner than his own, bisected by a line of fair hair he’d take his time depicting before trying to capture everything else he plans on exploring. There’s a dip he wants to kiss at the base of his throat, close to where a pulse beats, and a couple of hollows from his hips to the shadowed vee of his groin that he’d like to run his tongue down. But there’s his favorite place of all, dimpling the side of a smile Jon could draw forever. He stretches up and kisses it before gruffly saying, “I don’t need a diagram to get you off.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.” Jon yanks the bedding right out of the way and shifts to kneel over Tyler’s legs. “I have an MBA in being a real quick study.” He makes eye contact he can hardly bear to break off while dragging his tongue from the base of Tyler’s cock to the tip of his crown. He’d do this every morning if that means getting to see him start to lose it like this. There’s something about causing Tyler’s fists to twist around the sheets that unlocks a place in Jon’s chest, and Tyler letting go of that fabric to tangle his hands in Jon’s hair all over again only opens that closed-off space even further. He closes his eyes and pictures a key sliding home into its lock then takes his cock even deeper. It’s so easy to slide down before rising like this, despite the stutter and surge of Tyler’s hips. Between the stinging pull on his hair and the bruising push of Tyler’s dick, his eyes blur until he can’t see his face clearly at all.

  That doesn’t matter one bit.

  His mental image is still right there—Tyler’s lips forming a perfect O at the first touch of Jon’s mouth; those same lips pressed tight together when Jon sucks on his balls; his indrawn breath and flaming cheeks when Jon presses the pad of his thumb to his hole.

  He strokes himself as he sucks, only pulling away when the tugs to his hair turn as desperate as last night. Tyler pants out fragments of sentences while jerking himself off real fast. “I… fuck. Fuck!” He comes, the tight lines of his belly and thighs only finally relaxing as Jon’s own come spatters across them.

  He gets out a complete sentence when Jon rests his forehead against his chest. Tyler strokes the hair he just tugged, and he sounds the kind of happy that Jon’s been struggling to find a name for—easy, joyful, and certain. “I could get used to waking up like this.” He’s content, plain and simple, mirroring what Jon’s thinking so completely that it’s easy to be honest.

  “Me too.”

  When the sun stripes his own fingers, that contentment bubbles over. “Let’s do it tomorrow, too.”

  It’s a perfect start to a day that only goes on to get even better.

  CARL ARRIVES to repair the roof shortly after breakfast, and Tyler shows him to the kitchen before offering him coffee that he turns down. Now that Jon knows more about his recent health sc
are, that makes a whole lot more sense. “How about some juice?” he offers instead, pouring out a tall glass when Carl nods. “Where’s your shadow today?”

  “My shadow?” There’s an edge of confusion in his tone that lightens when he gets it. “You mean Eric? It’s the damnedest thing. He was sad as hell that he missed all the fun here. I could hear it when he called me last night. But then he was excited when I asked if he wanted to come over today to help me get finished up here. You know how he gets.”

  Jon could picture all that enthusiasm. He smiles until Carl adds, “Then he texts me outta the blue this morning to cancel. No call, no reason, just ‘Sorry.’”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” Tyler wonders aloud. “Maybe she put her foot down about him working on the weekend.”

  “Nope.” Carl shakes his head. “He says he doesn’t have time for relationships right now. Not while he’s so”—he makes air quotes with both hands—“‘career-focused.’ I keep telling him a career’s no good unless it has some balance. Just look at….” He shakes his head instead of voicing Stan’s name. “All that focus, and what’s he got to go home to, apart from corporate headaches?” He cuts off when his phone buzzes, and then he frowns at the screen. “What the fu—” This time the kitchen door opening cuts short his curse.

  Lorna slowly walks Peggy into the kitchen. The fact the headscarf she wears today matches her eye shadow so well is a sign she must feel better, and the way she claps her hands, delighted to find her kitchen fuller than usual, is another.