Wrapping Up

by Cade, Ashton

“It’s okay; this isn’t the end of the world. We can get past this. You’ll have to be more focused than ever, conservative. You need to get serious about the image you’re projecting if you want to win.”

  “You’re talking about Eli again, aren’t you?” I growl, hands clenched in fists already. We’ve been through this. I’m not pushing Eli away, I’m not denying that we’re together, and I’m not keeping him a dirty little secret. For any amount of time.

  “I’m only saying to be discreet,” Clary says gently, sensing my temper ready to boil over.

  “What’s the point? I already admitted in public that I’m gay. What does it matter?”

  Clary sighs, shakes his head. “I guess you’ve got a point there. The damage is already done. As long as Eli doesn’t have any skeletons in his closet we have to worry about.”

  I snort at the thought. “Don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about there,” I say.

  Eli’s a good guy. He’s got a respectable career, no criminal history—Ryan made sure to tell me that right away—and he’s eager to help out the same way I am. The way he stepped up to help Craig when no one else would—that’s a good guy, right there. No doubt about it.

  Clary lets out a heavy sigh and nods.

  “Okay, let’s get this thing over with,” he says, shocking the hell out of me.

  “Wait, what? We’re still doing it? Did Maroney even respond?”

  “He emailed me last night to let me know he’ll be here. Seems he’s gotten caught up in this frenzy. I was sure he was going to let you run unopposed up till now.”

  “Shit,” I grumble, running my fingers through my hair. “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”

  Clary makes a face, but doesn’t disagree with me.

  The librarian comes out from the back with a worried look, wringing her wrinkled hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t let those people in here, and I’m afraid if I try to keep them out…”

  “We’ll have to cancel, then,” Clary says with another groan. He wasn’t happy about me doing the thing, but I think he’s even less happy about having to cancel.

  “If we try to put a stop to it now, it’s just gonna look like we’re chickening out because of the protesters,” I counter.

  Clary doesn’t seem to find that a compelling argument. “So?”

  “So we can’t let them think they won. We can’t let them strong-arm us. Let Tommy get here and see what they’re like. Maybe he’ll have the decency to calm them down and we can debate like reasonable folk.”

  The librarian doesn’t seem thrilled with the idea, but she looks at Clary, who gives her a plaintive look, and she nods before fluttering away.

  “Got her wrapped around your finger,” I grumble.

  He shrugs. “I’m good at my job.”

  It’s no secret when Maroney appears, because the crowd goes nuts cheering for him, lauding him as the protector of virtue in this town—it’s ridiculous. Tommy pushes right through them, and holds the door open for them to follow.

  “Not so fast,” I say, pushing the door closed again, just him, me, and Clary on this side of it.

  “What’s going on here?” Tommy Maroney asks, bushy silver brows knitted together.

  “Look, those people of yours out there have been causing all kinds of ruckus this morning, and the librarian doesn’t want them coming in here and causing a scene while we’re trying to debate like civilized people.”

  Tommy’s got a jowly face, fat and deflated all at once, and he smiles this toothy grin up at me, all innocence and charm I don’t buy for a minute.

  “Sounds to me like you’re having trouble taking criticism, boy.”

  I bristle, but Clary’s reaching out for me in an instant, anticipating the jump from me.

  “That’s not it and you know it,” I growl, hands balled into fists.

  Tommy sees it. His eyes stay pointedly on my fists before he flicks them back up to mine and smiles.

  “You sure? The way I see it, those folks out there have a right to their voices being heard, and you’re trying to keep them out of the electoral process.”

  So much for being reasonable.

  “Well, the other option is we call Ryan up here to have him disperse the whole crowd. I’m sure no one’s got a permit for that protest, do they Tommy?”

  His eyes go hard, and I expect Clary to back me up here, but he’s not jumping to my defense.

  “Just another case of the Rainiers thinking they own this town. Calling your kin for backup when you can’t take care of your problems yourself,” Tommy spits.

  “You know what, old man—”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Clary says, stepping between us, a hand on my chest. “I think Mabel’s right about calling this thing off. Clearly emotions are running high, and—”

  “Ha! Knew you were too chicken to face me,” Maroney crows, making me scowl.

  “We can’t let him win,” I grumble as Clary pulls me away, still struggling to get back to my opponent.

  “Let him have this one,” Clary hisses. “He might win the battle, but the war’s not over. Don’t lose your head and end up in jail, or worse, disqualified.”

  I hate that he’s got a point, but I know as much as my hand’s itching to punch Tommy Maroney in his smug-ass face right now that I shouldn’t be facing him and talking about issues I’m passionate about. He seems determined to play dirty, to use personal attacks and try to get me all riled up rather than run this race on the issues and facts.

  That’s not something I’m prepared for. I didn’t expect him to come into this in bad faith. I need time to regroup and address the flaws with my strategy.

  “Get out of town for the day while I figure out how to clean this mess up,” Clary says, pushing me out another entrance. I’m still going to have to go past the crowd to get to my truck, but at least I can avoid Tommy again.

  I hate feeling like I’m running away like this. I hate feeling like I’m letting those bigots win. But like Clary said, this is about long-term strategy, not short-term goals.

  Doesn’t make it easier to shove down the rage, though. Despite the temperature, I head back home to grab a pack and head off into the mountains. That’s where I need to be right now. Alone, away from everything.

  Well, I don’t wanna be away from Eli, but he’s gotta work, and I don’t need to burden him with my problems when he’s still trying to feel better. I hope that’s all that’s going on with him. Last night was strange. I thought he was excited to spend time with me, thought we might have a movie night on the couch. But then he ran off to bed so quickly.

  There’s that niggle of doubt. That worry. Is he seeing someone else? Am I an idiot for not seeing it?

  I don’t think there’s any way he could be, though. We spend almost every minute he’s not at work together.

  Then I think of the way that doctor looked at me when I was there to pick him up. That look that was almost… jealous.

  But I’ve got to be imagining things. Eli’s been nothing but wonderful to me, and I have no reason to think he’s two-timing me. I’m just in my own head and freaking out about things I don’t need to freak out about.

  The hike helps. Being in nature helps. Trudging through ice and snow at the higher elevations… Well, it doesn’t exactly help, but it’s part of the recipe. The recipe that clears my head and has me feeling more refreshed and ready to take on the issues of the world headfirst.

  I’ve got plans for Eli to come over for dinner tonight, and Clary’s out of the house for our benefit, so I don’t want to be late getting back even if I feel like I could stay up on this mountain forever.

  Is politicking really for me? Stuffy suits, shaking hands, keeping a smile when people are insulting everything you care about...

  I dunno.

  I just wanted to make a difference, help this place I love so much. Why is it so hard?

  I’m just putting the pizza into the oven when Eli walks in without knocking. We got to that point a whil
e ago, I guess. Maybe while he was sick? I don’t know. I like how comfortable and familiar we are with each other. How natural our relationship feels.

  “How was your day?” I ask him. He makes a face and shrugs.

  “I called out again. I needed another sick day still. I think I rushed it yesterday.”

  I nod, steering him to a chair. “I could’ve told you that, silly.”

  He smiles, accepts my kiss. “How was yours?”

  I shrug. “Uneventful,” I lie. “Some campaign stuff got canceled at the last minute, so I went for a hike.”

  “In this weather?”

  “I have thermal gear,” I tease. “I’m not a popsicle.”

  “You better not be,” he fake-pouts. “Who would keep me warm then?”

  I look at the oven, the pizza only just starting to brown and bake, and then growl at him.

  “Careful, mister,” I warn.

  “What? Are you that worked up that a little tease about keeping me warm makes you hard?” he jokes, eyes flashing with flirty fire. Despite his claims of still needing a sick day, he seems pretty ready to go, eager to jump my bones.

  I step closer to him, taking his hand, settling it over my crotch. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  He groans, squeezing the hard length of my cock, stroking me through the sweatpants I changed into when I got home.

  “Guess I’ve been neglecting you,” he says, his face so close to the bulge in my pants that I’m sure I can feel the heat from his breath when he speaks.

  “Or you’re just too damn much for me and I’ll never have enough.”

  Eli grins up at me, laughing softly. “You know those two things don’t go together.”

  I growl as I yank him up to his feet, pulling him into a fierce kiss. “But we do.”

  “We do,” he agrees, breathless.

  “The pizza’s got another five minutes,” I tell him, lips skimming down the column of his neck.

  “If you turn it off now, we can reheat it later without it being overcooked,” he whispers, breath catching as my teeth drag over his Adam’s apple, down to his collarbone.

  “You’re a fucking genius,” I tell him, sucking on the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

  “You should stop it now, though,” he breathes.

  “Stop what?” I ask, lips skimming to the other side of his throat, my hand traveling between us to cup his growing erection.

  “The oven,” he groans, jerking into my palm.

  “Right.” I hiss the word like it’s a curse, pulling away from him to turn the oven off. I yank the half-cooked pizza out, pale and sad-looking, but I don’t even care right now. I’d go hungry if I meant I could have Eli instead.

  “Now, where were we?” I grumble, pulling him back into my arms, biting on the side of his neck hard enough to make him gasp and whimper.

  “You were… Going to…” he pants, stroking me through my pants the same way I’m stroking him through his. It’s electric, doing this with him, doing this together, bringing each other so close. I love watching his eyes flutter, his mouth part. I love the hitch in his breath, the shuddering gasp he lets out when I stroke him just right.

  “That’s right,” I murmur against his skin. “I was going to take you to my room, bend you over my bed, and fuck you,” I growl in his ear, delighting in the way he shivers and melts into me.

  “Yes, please,” he moans, hands going under my shirt, flattening across my stomach, up my chest. Everywhere he touches there’s a fire igniting and nothing’s going to quench it until I’m inside of him.

  How we get there is a blur, but it happens. We’re in my room, both of us naked, kissing like we’ll never have another chance to do it again. Eli’s cock is leaking slick white precum all over my hand as I stroke him and he gasps, whining and whimpering, bucking his hips into my palm.

  “Now,” he whispers. “I want you in me now.”

  His words are fire, my knees practically giving from pure need, and I groan before I spin him around and bend him over the bed just like I promised. I roll the condom down my throbbing shaft as I dribble slippery lube on Eli’s puckered hole. I swirl my finger around his ass, pushing it in, stretching him with a single digit. Eli shivers, his arms trembling with the effort of supporting himself on the mattress. He looks over his shoulder at me, eyes heavy, hooded, dark with desire. His hair, slightly damp with sweat, hangs over his forehead. I crook my finger inside him ever so slightly, stroking him from within. Eli’s eyes roll back in his head, lids fluttering shut as his teeth drag over his bottom lip and his elbows start to give.

  I push my finger in and withdraw it nearly all the way until he’s whimpering at the thought that I might leave him wanting. A second finger joins the first, both of them plunging inside him, his answering grunt hotter than any sound in any porn I’ve ever watched. His spine is arched back, his body mine for the taking, and I take a moment to just admire him before I replace my fingers with the tip of my cock. Eli gasps, eyes fluttering open to look back at me. A silent plea is all I can see in them.

  “You ready for this, babe?” I ask, hands sliding up and down his sides, gripping his hips, my self-control frayed to the last thread.

  “Please,” he grunts, pushing back against me, trying to take my thick cock head on his own. But I hold him firm, fingers digging into his hips. Even as I do, he lets out the tiniest whine, wriggling his hips, not giving up.

  How could I resist that?

  I can’t.

  Slowly I ease into him. He’s so tight that I’ve got to take it millimeter by millimeter until the swollen, thick head of my cock pops through that ring of muscle and we both let out a sigh at how good it feels. There aren’t even words for it. Every time with Eli is like this. No matter who’s on what side, it’s fucking incredible. Like trying to explain the Beatles to someone who has no concept of music. Where do you even begin? It’s just magic. It’s something so good it shouldn’t be real. But it is. And it’s mine. All fucking mine.

  It takes me longer to come to grips with it than Eli, though. He’s ready for more, not content with me just holding him, barely nestled inside him. I slide one hand up his spine, fingers dipping into each ridge and bump, each curve and divot. His skin is soft, smooth, freckled and pale, the varying shades of a quail’s egg, marred occasionally by scars I don’t know the origin of.

  I slide my hand up his spine, thrusting my fingers into his hair, grabbing onto him, pulling enough that he can’t let his head drop forward.

  Then inch after inch I’m pushing into him, sliding deeper and deeper, feeling his warmth stretch to accommodate me while a low, guttural moan rips from his lips.

  “Oh God, Garrett,” he cries, his voice breaking. His fingers are twisted in the sheets, head held up only by my fingers in his hair, his whole body trembling as I push deeper and deeper. I’m so focused on him, on the display of his unbridled pleasure, that I’m afraid it’ll be too much if I focus on how good it feels for me. If I think too much about how tight he is, how his warmth is surrounding me, molding to me, his ass taking me like his body was made for me, then I’m sure I’d come right away.

  But fuck, it’s hard not to think about.

  “That’s it, baby. Take this cock for me,” I whisper, leaning forward as I push deeper. I release his hair, sliding my hand down his shoulder, his arm, kissing the back of his neck, then slipping my arm around his waist to hold him up closer to me, both of us upright, cheek to cheek. When my cock’s buried all the way inside of him, Eli shivers and turns in my arms to kiss me. The same kind of wild, passionate, unrestrained kiss it always is with Eli, tongues dancing, tangling, swirling in a mad dance neither of us rehearsed but both of us knows every move to. Being with Eli is like being on white-water rapids—it’s crazy, wild, thrilling, and a hell of a journey, but I’m not scared. I know the ropes; I’m confident I’m not going to get hurt here. For some, the excitement comes from the danger. For me, it’s the symbiosis. The connection. Not fighting t
he rapids, but joining them.

  He pulls back from the kiss, eyes blazing, hair mussed, face flushed—sexy as hell, in other words—and pants, his muscles clenching around me, making my head spin.

  “Fuck me,” Eli whispers, and it’s all it takes from me.

  I pull back in one long stroke, every inch drawing the thread of my restraint thinner and thinner, then I thrust forward, filling him again with a wild roar. He cries out, eyes shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip deeper with every thrust. I don’t even think as I’m fucking him. I let my body do the work, following what feels good, what makes him cry and shiver and tremble in my arms. I love the way he quivers, how he gasps, how his eyes flutter even when they’re shut in pure ecstasy.

  I could watch him riding this wave of pleasure for the rest of my life.

  Maybe I will, I think suddenly, that idea coming out of nowhere.

  It comes with another realization: I think I’m in love with this man.

  “God, Eli… You feel so fucking good, baby,” I groan, the overwhelming feeling of all these realizations piling on me, building, pushing me closer to the brink as I realize just how valuable what I’ve got in my arms is.

  “Oh fuck, Eli…” Knowing I’m about to lose it, I reach for his cock, stroking him, pumping up and down his length frantically to bring him to that edge with me. “Come with me, babe. Come for me,” I growl, biting into his neck, a primal need to claim him, to have him, to make him mine taking me over.

  Eli cries out, his body clenching around me as the orgasm overtakes us both. It’s so intense, so real and powerful and raw, a lightning storm setting off chain reactions all over my body. He clenches around me, and my hips jerk on their own, our bodies still moving with the aftershocks, echoes of our fucking still rippling through us. I’m not sure how I’ll ever come down from that, every nerve in my body singing, buzzing, so electrified I think they might be able to spot me from space if I went outside.

  I collapse on the bed trying desperately to catch my breath, my whole body covered with a fine layer of sweat after that crazy intense test of endurance and will.

  “God, I love doing that with you,” Eli says, chuckling as he curls up on my chest. I wrap my arm around him, stroking his back lovingly, happier than I’ve ever been.