by Janey Chapel
Damn, Jay looked good. His hair was wet, like he’d just had a shower, and with it pushed back from his face, the clean lines of his cheekbones and jaw showed more clearly than they had the night before. Patrick looked at him avidly, taking in the dark copper cast that the light picked up in his brown hair, and the contrast it made against his pale skin. He was wearing a black jacket with “Stem’s Top Wrestling” stenciled in white. Underneath that, he wore a matching black T-shirt and jeans. Somehow, even in the casual clothes, he looked… dangerous. Patrick had run with the big dogs for years, and he should have been able to mask his feelings, but one quick glance at Bryan told him he hadn’t hidden anything. A little smile played over Bryan’s mouth, and he nodded, as if he was confirming something he’d wondered about. Patrick wondered briefly how he’d given himself away, and then didn’t worry about it anymore.
As Jay made his way toward the bar, he nodded to the guy wailing away on the guitar and raised a hand to Bryan, but he didn’t stop until he was standing in front of Patrick, with his hand already outstretched. “Patrick.”
That was all. Just, “Patrick.” But that was plenty. Patrick had already started to leak, his dick leaping to attention like a recruit on the first day of boot camp. His armpits were damp and his mouth itched, and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak coherently. Hey, better here and now than there and then. So he just grinned at Jay, shook his hand, and thought to himself, Fuck, yes.
Jay brushed against him on his way to the bar, squeezing in between him and the guy next to him, his arm heavy against Patrick’s, and Patrick could smell the soap he used, and whatever resin they used at the gym. His mouth started watering, and he still hadn’t actually said anything to him.
“You’ve met Patrick?” Jay asked Bryan, taking the beer Bryan handed him. He took a big swallow of it, then licked his lips and turned to Patrick, and his face was right there, hazel eyes meeting Patrick’s, warm and aware. Patrick could have reached right out and licked him, and Jay seemed to know he was thinking about it. The relief he felt now that Jay was there unsettled him. Not that he wanted it to be awkward, but it was so damn easy with him. He’d gotten used to things being hard.
Jay and Bryan started talking about the gym, and except for the weight of Jay against Patrick’s side, he wasn’t part of the conversation. He finally figured out that Jay was giving him time to pull himself together, and his estimation of him went up yet another notch. When he thought he could speak without his first words being, “How about a blowjob?” he joined in, too, and for half an hour or so, they just stayed that way, talking. He had to move around a little so his poor dick wouldn’t lose circulation completely, and his shoulder brushed against Jay’s chest. He was leaning on the bar, standing beside Patrick, facing him, and he made a show of leaning over Patrick to get a coaster. His hips nudged against Patrick’s side, and Patrick could feel that Jay was just as hard as he was. Whatever this was, they were both feeling it.
Bryan got called away eventually, and as enjoyable as it had been talking to him, Patrick had been waiting for him to leave. All he wanted to do was grab Jay, pull up that black shirt and sink his teeth into him, pull down his zipper and eat him, get him alone somewhere away from the noise and the people and just have at him. He was enjoying this, the dragging things out part, just as much as he had last night. But it was worse now, because they both knew how it could be. And Jay was touching him already, priming him, stoking and stroking—foreplay, not teasing.
They knew where they were headed. It was just a matter of getting there.
“You look better,” Jay said. His eyes on Patrick’s face felt like warm fingers, trailing from forehead to chin. “You got him?”
“I got him,” Patrick said, and Jay grinned at the satisfaction in his voice. Hell yes, he was proud of it.
“Good,” Jay said, splaying his fingers on Patrick’s back for an instant. Patrick could feel each finger, firm and strong against him, and Jay rubbed there, then patted him twice, hard. “Good for you.” He turned his body so he was leaning on the bar, too, and said, “So you’re headed back to Charlotte?”
Patrick nodded. “In the morning,” he said, and he turned to look at Jay.
Jay had that look on his face. The same one he had the night before when Patrick closed the office door with his foot and said, “Do you want to do this?” The one that made Patrick trap him against the door and keep him there, watching as Jay’s hips started lunging toward his. He looked at Patrick like the only thing keeping him from just dropping to the floor and going for it was those pesky people sitting around them.
“Let me tell Bryan I’m leaving,” was all he said, and Patrick was grateful he didn’t have to ask.
A couple minutes later, they were outside the bar. It wasn’t really cold enough for a jacket, but Jay looked damn good in it. They stood about three feet apart. Politely apart. Appropriately apart. Anyone could look at them, and they’d just see two guys on a sidewalk, talking. But underneath, they were hot. Christ, they were hot. Patrick had to stand with his feet apart because he had a pole there in his pants and the pleats alone weren’t keeping it hidden. Jay had color high in his cheeks, and Patrick was actually sweating. This went way beyond some superficial attraction. Jay’s eyes were on fire already, and they’d be lucky if they managed to get behind a closed door before they did something about this overwhelming, overpowering need.
“Where are you staying?” Jay asked.
“The Holiday Inn over by Centennial Park,” Patrick told him, and they turned together toward it.
He tried to use the few blocks’ walk to calm himself down. When they were about halfway there, Jay gave him that look again, that dark, sweet, seductive look, and Patrick had to take his arm, duck him between two buildings, push him against a wall, and taste him. He set his mouth on Jay’s, and Jay opened wide, thrusting his tongue in Patrick’s mouth, aggressive and burning hot. Thank God it was dark. Thank God it was late. Thank God Jay hadn’t made him wait one more minute.
Patrick hadn’t done this since he was a kid, but he was dry-humping Jay, shoving his erection against Jay’s, grinding them together. At each thrust, Jay’s breath caught, a sharp sound Patrick could hear in his mouth, and he couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t let Jay go and walk sedately to his hotel and do this like a gentleman. No, whatever they did next, he had to have this, and he had to have it now. Jay wasn’t protesting, nothing like. The alley was damp, and it didn’t smell too great, but it was pitch dark, and Jay’s hands were on his ass now, and he was moving Patrick’s hips in circles, counter-thrusting. Jay’s tongue was halfway down his throat, and Patrick had handfuls of Jay’s soft, damp hair wrapped up in his fists. Patrick leaned on him, pushed him hard back against the wall, and he groaned at that, sinking back, taking Patrick’s weight, tearing his mouth away and gasping, “Harder, Patrick. Do it harder.”
Fuck yeah. He could do that. No problem. He let go of Jay’s hair and braced his hands against the wall beside Jay’s head, thrust one leg between both of his and rocked into him as hard as he could. He could hear the scrape of Jay’s jacket against the bricks, hear the little moans he was trying to stifle, hear people passing by the end of the alley while they were there trying not to break into pieces, trying not to make any noise, trying to wait and trying to come, both at once. Jay went before Patrick did, stiffening, his thrusts uncoordinated and jerky, turning his head so his mouth hit Patrick’s hand, biting down as he came. The feel of Jay’s teeth pushed him too far, and he brought his knee up snug under Jay’s balls and ground himself into his hip, his dick lurching out wet spurts in his pants. He went dizzy with it, shivering, feeling each spasm as it started halfway down his back and tore through him.
Jay panted into his shoulder, and Patrick tried to get his heart to stop jumping around in his chest. Jay still had his hands on Patrick’s ass, rubbing little circles, dipping his fingers down the cleft, stroking there. Even through two l
ayers of fabric it felt arousing as hell, and if he could have, Patrick would’ve started up again. He was wet and sticky, but his dick was just swimming around in the last batch, ready to get to work on the next one.
The first thing on the agenda when they got to his room would have to be a shower.
THE hotel room was purely functional. The man standing in it, however, was purely decorative. Not in a traditional sense maybe, not at the moment, not after what Patrick had just done to him. Poor Jay. His hair was all rumpled, he had a big wet stain on the front of his jeans, and when Patrick circled around him, he could see the back of Jay’s jacket was covered in brick dust. When he stepped in close behind Jay, he smelled less like soap and more like spunk, and the alley, and Patrick wanted to strip him down where he stood and fuck him until he couldn’t walk straight.
Jay was shaking. Whether it was aftershocks from the last time, or anticipation of the next, Patrick didn’t know, but it was sexy as hell. He was shaky too. His knees felt like jelly. This was such a dangerous game. He couldn’t understand why Jay didn’t worry him at all. The only vibes he got off Jay were strength and purpose and excitement. As dangerous as he looked, he didn’t feel that way, and maybe there were times when you just had to go with your gut.
Patrick’s gut trusted him. Wanted him, too, but he liked Jay. He liked how straightforward he was. In the alley, Jay had been with him all the way. Maybe it seemed a strange kind of common ground, but given how little they really knew about each other, he’d take it.
He stripped off his T-shirt on the way to the bathroom and said, “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable.” He’d let Jay decide if he wanted to join him. He supposed it would have been more polite to offer him first go at the shower, but it was too late now. The manners he had he’d learned on the fly, and the etiquette of who got to shower first after you’d both come in your pants was one he’d never had to think about before. Besides, Jay was a guy; Patrick didn’t think the niceties of such things were going to bug him much. Mostly Patrick just wanted them both clean and bare, and preferably horizontal, in as little time and with as little effort as possible.
It didn’t look like Jay planned on joining him, so he just rinsed off real quick, dried off, swished some Scope around his mouth and went back out. Jay had taken his jacket off, and his shirt, and his boots and socks. He’d unbuttoned his pants and was sitting on the side of the bed with his elbows on his knees.
Patrick’s heart thudded once. Second thoughts? No. He wouldn’t have been sitting there in bare feet if he didn’t want to be there. Just thinking, maybe. Jay looked up at him and tilted his head. He looked pretty serious.
“I don’t do this very often,” he said quietly.
Patrick tucked the towel more firmly around his waist and stepped back a little, bracing his ass against the dresser.
“I don’t, either,” he said, and Jay nodded. “Actually, it’s the first time I’ve ever… you know… with someone I just met.”
He hesitated to call Jay a stranger. He felt like he knew Jay, ridiculous as that sounded.
“I’m usually pretty careful,” he continued, wanting Jay to understand. “It’s not something I can be real open about, when I’m home.”
God, that had come out all wrong. It sounded like he’d come on to Jay just because he wasn’t on his home turf. Shit.
But Jay was smiling a little. He said, “Everybody needs a place where they can just be themselves for awhile.”
So Jay understood. He heard more than Patrick had said, and he understood.
Patrick wanted him to know it was more than just that, even if he felt like he was putting himself out on a limb Jay had never asked him to walk. “I’m not sure when you met me last night I was entirely myself,” he told Jay. “I’m not usually that… rough.”
“I know,” Jay said calmly. “You’re in a war, of sorts. I know what that’s like. Sometimes in situations like that, you find things inside you didn’t know you had. It doesn’t mean that’s who you are.”
He didn’t elaborate more than that, but given the little he’d told Patrick about his history, he didn’t really need to. Patrick might not know exactly what kind of action Jay had seen, but looking at his eyes, there was no question that he knew what he was talking about. Life was a war, and Patrick fought it every day. He fought it hard because going soft was a good way to get yourself killed, but sometimes he thought maybe he was losing whatever softness he had left inside.
“Remember how you held my arms up, so I couldn’t move?” Jay asked. His voice was husky, and Patrick could picture the moment with perfect clarity. He remembered how the pulse in Jay’s wrist jumped under his thumb, remembered how Jay leaned forward and bit his jaw, sending him spinning.
He nodded.
Jay held out his arms. “No bruises.”
His wrists were strong, the tendons visible, light hair feathering the back, the underside smooth and pale. There wasn’t a mark on him. Maybe he hadn’t been as rough as he thought.
“You weren’t too rough. I don’t think you’d let yourself be too rough,” he said. Then he pointed to Patrick’s hand. “I’m the one who lost it,” he said.
Patrick looked down. There, below his thumb, in the meat of his palm, was a set of teeth marks, and another perfect picture jumped into his head. He could see Jay stiffen, see his head whip to the side, and felt again the sting of his teeth on his hand.
“We all get a little primitive sometimes,” Jay said. “I don’t mind, and you shouldn’t, either.”
With that, he pushed himself up and headed in to the bathroom, unzipping his pants as he went.
Primitive. That was how he felt when he interrogated someone. Primitive and on edge and holding very tightly to what was left in him that was still human. Sometimes he even had to let that go. The hell of it was that he enjoyed it so much. And that he was so good at it. Some men were born to be diplomats. Some were born to be teachers. Patrick’s gift? He intimidated people into confessing crimes. That was his specialty.
Most of the time, he even thought they did it.
He had a knack, his captain told him. A nose for it. Almost like he could smell it when they were lying. So he’d become their number one guy, the one they sent on little assignments like this. He was the one who got to wrangle with department heads who had more testosterone than sense, or who got so tangled up in bureaucracy and procedure they couldn’t close a case if it came with instructions and a padlock.
And to do it, he’d had to leave behind some pieces of Patrick T. Graves. Like the piece that remembered his niece’s favorite candy bar. Like the part that had once wanted to learn to play the piano.
Like the part of him that would just as soon be on the bottom.
He dropped the towel and went to sit on the bed. He could still feel the warmth from Jay’s body on the spread. He didn’t have to be that Patrick all the time. He didn’t have to be primitive and rough. Not with Jay. He thought Jay would let him show any part he wanted, any part he could.
He had ten more hours to just be himself.
Whoever that might be.
He stretched out on the bed. King-size. He slid over until he lay diagonal on it, and his whole body fit, stretched and all. He put his arms above his head and arched his back, feeling one pop after another up his spine. He flexed his heels and felt his calf muscles bunch. God, that felt good. Letting go felt good. It was a luxury he didn’t often have. Keeping it tight and tense was part of the game, getting the kinks out wasn’t.
Jay came back in the room while Patrick still lay contorted, trying to get that last pop out of the base of his spine. “Lean on me, will you?” he asked, and Jay obliged, putting his weight on Patrick’s elbow and pushing him further toward the bed until he heard that last crack. “Ahhh, that’s better,” he said, and Jay smacked him lightly on the hip before standing up again. Patrick moved over to the side of the bed and grabbed hold of the ends of the towel Jay had draped across his neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Patrick growled at him, grinning.
Jay pointed to the light switch on the wall, but Patrick shook his head. “Leave them on. I want to see you.”
When he said that, Jay’s eyes got bright again, and Patrick could see his dick start to fill. He didn’t see many uncircumcised penises these days, and Jay’s was a beauty. Thick, heavy, long, and getting longer by the second. When he could pull his eyes away from it, and back up to Jay’s face, he looked flushed. “Do you mind?” Patrick asked.
Jay shook his head and stepped a little bit closer. “Whatever you want, Patrick. Anything.”
Whatever he wanted. Anything. He wanted another night. And another day. And another night after that. He wanted to know if they could talk with their clothes on. He wanted to know what drove Jay to work in a gym all day and a bar all night. He wanted to know what had happened to give Jay such a solid sense of himself; Patrick knew he hadn’t had that at Jay’s age. But mostly he wanted to stay there for awhile and count Jay’s ribs with his fingers while he slept.
He didn’t think he’d get to have any of that. He thought he’d get his ten hours, and be glad of them. And right then, what he wanted was to take Jay in his mouth. He’d tasted him soft. Now he wanted to taste him hard. Patrick was hard, too, just from watching him, even though he’d come not long before—a testament to Jay’s appeal. They could probably stand on opposite sides of the room and just watch each other get erect without saying a word. They could probably come just from the watching, too, but what a waste that would be.
He put a hand out, tracing a line of reddish brown hair down Jay’s belly. His skin was smooth and soft, with a scattering of freckles across his torso. He was perfect. His dick bounced against Patrick’s chin when he reached closer, and Jay laughed a little, his hands going to Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing lightly. Patrick let his chin scrape against the head of Jay’s dick, just now poking through the foreskin, and Jay stopped laughing. He moved one hand to his penis and rubbed it against Patrick again, against the beard stubble there, and breathed in hard. Patrick liked seeing his fingers on his own dick, liked how comfortable he was with himself. Patrick licked Jay’s fingers as they held his erection, and he liked that too. Jay leaned his knees against the bed, still standing, but having a little trouble concentrating, it looked like.