by A M Snead
“By the way,” Garrett said, drawing Jack’s eyes back to him. He handed Jack the paper heart. “I retrieved your heart, all safe and sound.”
Jack smiled. “Thanks.” He stared at the heart then folded it in half and slid it back into his pocket. “That was quite a stunt, scaling the wall like that.”
“Aw shucks, twern’t nothin’.”
Jack laughed, his brow pinching with a “what the fuck?” expression.
“Sorry.” Garrett chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip and Jack’s eyes followed, recalling too vividly how good that tongue tasted. Garrett glanced at him and caught him staring and smiled.
Jack looked away quickly, growing frustrated and disturbed by the incessant tickling in his gut whenever Garrett flashed a smile or touched him. Or calls you “baby.”
“So.” Garrett nodded at him. “What did it mean?”
“Huh?” Jack frowned.
“On the heart. It said make a new friend.” An apologetic smile stretched his lips. “I peeked.”
“It’s okay.” Jack smiled, then shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
“Code for none of my damn business.” Garrett clucked his tongue and grinned. “Got it.”
“No.” Jack shook his head and laughed. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…personal, is all.”
“That’s cool.” Garrett stepped away from the rail. “I’m not one to pry.” He looked at Jack and rubbed the pad of his thumb across his own lower lip. “So, I take it you impressed the boss.”
“I, uh…” He laughed quietly. “I guess so, I’m still here.”
“Well, you sure as hell impressed me.”
A low sigh pushed up Jack’s throat and he smiled. “You were pretty impressive too.”
Garrett chuckled. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So, you want a private tour of the premises?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
The tour led them through the main “lobby” of the structure which branched off into a large kitchen, an expansive living area set up with a big screen TV, stereo system and surround sound, and then a recreation room and a home gym. Upstairs, Garrett took him through the private quarters, showing him the rooms that Gideon had reserved for the boys who chose to take up residence.
“Did Gideon invite you to stay here?” Garrett asked. He opened another door and this time entered the room. Jack followed.
“Yeah.”
“Are you?” Garrett looked at him. “Going to stay, I mean?”
Jack glanced around the room. It had a navy-blue theme; matching bedspread, curtains, and carpet with light oak wall paneling that offset the darker colors nicely. “I think I would like to,” Jack murmured. He faced Garrett. “Whose room is this?”
“Mine.” Garrett smiled. “Do you like it? Obviously dark blue is my favorite color. It doesn’t look tacky, does it?”
“No,” Jack assured.
“No, it isn’t tacky? Or no you don’t like it?” A teasing smile tightened Garrett’s lips.
“It isn’t tacky,” Jack clarified. “And I do like it.” He did his best to keep his gaze from lingering on the large bed with the thick navy comforter and matching plush pillows. The thing looked damn comfortable.
There seemed to be some form of telepathic link between them because the thought had barely worked its way through Jack’s mind when Garrett walked to the bed and casually lay across the center. He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at Jack as he smoothed his other hand across the surface of the thick comforter. “I was thinking, for our next scene…” His heavy gaze beckoned for Jack to join him on the bed, though he made no outright invitation or suggestion. “We could do a skit of our own. Maybe something more passionate than what you will be doing with Lucas.”
Something more passionate? Jack’s dick twitched unexpectedly as his heart raced. Why was he even in here? He needed to go. The effect Garrett had on him left him far too susceptible to the man’s charms. Jack still had no idea what the deal was with Garrett. When he had wrapped his arm around Jack and told Lucas he had “dibs,” Jack had taken it for mere play. But there was something about the way Garrett’s arm had tightened when he had “claimed” him…it hadn’t felt like pretend.
He tried to shake the thought from his head. It didn’t matter either way; he had no intention of going “there” with Garrett or anyone.
“Lucas gets off on playing the rich playboy who fucks the country club’s cabana boy.” He chuckled. “Or some shit like that.” He licked his lips then rubbed them together slowly, his gaze never leaving Jack. “Me…I guess I’m more old-fashioned. I like the sentimental stuff.”
Jack swallowed thickly as he watched Garrett’s hand moving around on the bed. Just politely excuse yourself and get the fuck out of here. His feet refused to obey and, in fact, betrayed him and moved him closer to the bed rather than further away. His slow approach encouraged Garrett and the man continued to describe his play fantasy.
“Maybe I’ve been away for a few days on business, or even out to sea.” His smile widened. “The sailor theme is always sexy, and I get to wear a uniform.”
Jack did his damnedest not to picture Garrett all decked out as a hot sailor, but fuck if his thoughts didn’t betray him as well. His knees bumped lightly against the edge of the bed, alerting him he had arrived at his destination.
Shoving up on his arm, Garrett reached out and rubbed his hand slowly up the back of Jack’s thigh. “Or…if you want, you can wear the uniform,” he murmured with a sexy smile. “I’m all for that. You come back from a long stint out at sea, and…” The slightest nudge of Garrett’s fingers on the back of his leg was all it took to urge Jack down onto his back on the bed, which was every bit as comfortable as he had imagined.
Garrett sank back down on his elbow and rubbed his other hand up Jack’s stomach. “And I’m waiting here with a…” His hand shifted, and his fingers pushed beneath the waistband of Jack’s jeans, just deep enough to stroke his hardening member. “With a Welcome Home surprise you’ll never forget.”
Jack couldn’t stop the pleasant shiver from running through him. He slid his fingertips up Garrett’s arm as the man left his own hand buried snug in Jack’s pants.
“Think that’s a scenario we could work with?” Garrett’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and his lips seemed to be getting closer and closer to Jack’s mouth as he spoke.
Swallowing thickly, Jack nodded. “I…I think so.”
“Good.” Garrett completed the kiss then let it slowly deepen as he pushed his hand further into Jack’s crotch and massaged his rapidly swelling cock with greater purpose.
“Mmm,” Jack moaned into his mouth and gripped his arm, lifting his hips. Garrett withdrew his hand and slowly opened the fly of Jack’s pants without breaking from the kiss. He shoved down the front of Jack’s jeans and briefs, freeing his throbbing erection. “Fuck,” Jack gasped, disrupting their kiss, when the man gripped him and stroked his cock with a strong fist. “Uuh!” His head pressed down into the bed and his eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling as Garrett’s mouth touched his neck, his teeth tugging on sensitive skin. He pushed his cock through Garrett’s hand and moaned. Please fuck me again. Please, now—
“Jack?” Garrett’s voice forced into his hazed mind with a tinge of amusement. “You okay?”
Jack came back to his senses with a start, heart pounding. Garrett stood beside him, away from the bed, just inside the doorway. Neither had lain down, nor had any “passionate” scenario been proposed. Nothing had taken place. Except in your mind.
He rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth and avoided Garrett’s stare. “Uh, yeah,” he rasped, his crotch aching. He turned toward the door on unsteady legs. “I think…I think I need some air.”
“You feel okay?” Garrett touched his shoulder. “You look kind of pale all of a sudden.”
“I just…I haven’t eaten anything today,” Jack mumbled. “I’m feeling a little lighth
eaded.” That wasn’t a complete lie. The only thing he’d had a taste of all day—was Garrett.
“Well, come on.” Garrett rested his hand on Jack’s back. “Let’s go down to the kitchen. I’ll fix you something.”
The man’s hand on his back intensified the dizziness and didn’t help at all with the hardness in his jeans as they left the bedroom and returned to the first floor.
6 “The Voices”
THE drive back to the city seemed to take hours, though when he pulled into the motel parking lot, the digital clock on his car stereo insisted it had barely taken forty-five minutes. He shut off the car and remained seated behind the wheel, listening to the tick of the cooling engine. His eyes rested on the motel building, but he wasn’t seeing the structure before him. Every second of the day, from the moment he had arrived at Gideon’s place, was replaying through his mind in painstaking detail.
He sighed heavily and gripped the steering wheel. Why had he imagined Garrett proposing a “passionate” scenario? Was that what he was hoping for—a romantic scene with the guy?
“Just stop right there,” he muttered and shook his head. “There’s no way in hell you’re getting all cuddly with that guy. Just forget it. The only time you fuck him is on camera. Otherwise, keep your fucking distance.”
But if today was any indication, then that might prove to be a difficult task. Garrett repeatedly found him. What was his deal anyway? Jack remained puzzled over the man’s rush to vacate the shower after their shoot, yet when he showed up again in the studio, and later by the pool—he was back to being the same cocky, flirty guy as he had been on set.
Jack groaned and shoved open the door, dragging the keys from the ignition. He crossed the parking lot and climbed the metal stairs to the second-floor balcony and stopped outside his door. He chewed his lower lip and glanced at the metal rail as he twisted his keys in his fingers. His mind flashed on Garrett vaulting over the rail above the pool and scaling down the trellis to retrieve the paper heart. Your heart is safe. Jack was beginning to have his doubts about that. Both his body and his mind were betraying him—why not his heart as well?
The late afternoon was plenty warm, but a chill met Jack inside the motel room. His skin prickled with gooseflesh and he went to the window, sliding it open to let in the warm breeze. Since Garrett had made him a multi-layered sandwich with a variety of meats and cheeses and added fixings, then insisted he eat every bite, Jack didn’t foresee needing any dinner. He just wanted to think about being at Gideon’s.
While standing in Gideon’s large kitchen and watching Garrett prepare his meal, Jack had found it unsettling how “comfortable” it all felt. Though he had known ahead of time that Gideon Dodd treated his boys like family, Jack hadn’t been prepared for just how home-like it would feel.
Some part of him had thought living in the company of porn stars would be just one big fuck-fest. And he didn’t doubt there was plenty of “off-screen” sex taking place. But Garrett, and Lucas…they just seemed like average guys a person would meet anywhere. Although it hadn’t been intentional, he realized he had thought of these porn guys as set apart from typical human beings, their entire life focus being on sex. But that wasn’t the vibe he had gotten.
Jack wasn’t sure if that made him feel better, or worse. Maybe he had been hoping for the sexual tunnel vision of the guys to prevent him from getting involved with more than his body. After just one day, though, Garrett was already testing his resistance to a deeper involvement.
He could just walk away. That was an option. He hadn’t signed any contracts or anything. Tomorrow morning, he could call Gideon, tell him he had changed his mind and the whole porn thing wasn’t for him after all. He could do that. Sure.
But you’re not going to.
Jack exhaled hard and flopped on his bed facedown then rolled onto his back. A soft breeze floated through the window and warmed his face, bringing to mind Garrett’s touch. A recollection that spiraled downward and settled in his crotch. His earlier daydream rushed back through him and the slight throb in his cock began to pulsate, inspiring a full-on erection. He groaned and draped his arm over his face. “Fuck.”
Before today, he’d had a long dry spell. But whatever part of him that had gone dormant from lack of sex was shaken up now and wide awake. Garrett had done a bang-up job bringing him back to full sexual awareness. And now he was craving more of it. There were gay strip clubs in the city, he was sure he could find someone to satisfy his needs if he so chose, but to his dismay, he didn’t want just “any” cock.
Before Jack had left the property, Garrett had given him his phone number, told him if he needed anything to just call or text. Anything? Jack mused despairingly, even a good hard off-the-record fucking?
An annoyed growl wrenched out of him. “You’re not calling him, are you crazy?” he snapped. “Do not fuck with this guy—literally! Don’t play this fucking game.”
He sat up and dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. One hand went to his crotch and squeezed. His scene with Garrett exploded through his head. “God,” he growled and jumped up, pacing the floor. “Fuck.” He drove one hand through his hair and gripped the strands, his other hand still clutching his junk, flexing and rubbing his pulsing cock.
Another strangled groan wrenched up his throat and he released himself, ripped off his shirt, and winged it across the room in his frustration and dropped on his back on the bed. He grabbed himself through his pants again and closed his eyes tight, the scene with Garrett playing out again; Garrett’s hot mouth sucking him in so deep, pumping him until he nearly burst down the guy’s throat. Garrett’s long, thick cock squeezing inside him, fucking him like he had never been fucked before.
“Uh…fuck…” He massaged himself with a firm hand. He knew that beating off to thoughts of Garrett would only enhance the developing problem, but he couldn’t shake the man from his head as he unfastened his pants and took a firm grip of his throbbing cock. His mind ran wild with thoughts of Garrett sucking him and handling him.
“This is not good,” he whispered stiffly. He tightened his grip on his shaft and began to pump himself, pausing only long enough to spit into his hand. He made a valiant attempt to replace thoughts of Garrett with Lucas, but though the guy was plenty fuckable and fantasy worthy—Garrett refused to budge.
Jack took no thought of the open window or who might stroll by on the walk outside. He was lost in his recent, fresh memories of Garrett as he stroked himself into heavenly bliss, his pants and cries and moans bursting out of him unhindered until he shouted loud and shot his wad.
Hard pants puffed off his lips as he stared at the ceiling, his vision hazy, his ears ringing. His hand rested limply on his heaving stomach, his sated cock rested close to his navel, as limp as his hand and leaking a trickle of cum onto his sweat-dampened skin as thicker deposits smeared his upper abdomen and chest. Jack shook his head slowly. “You are so fucked.”
♥
After struggling into the night to mentally explain away his one-handed fiesta, Jack decided that his senses had merely been ultra-heightened after an extremely sexually charged session earlier that day. For the most part he was successful in soothing his worries about what the days ahead might develop into, and all thoughts of possibly abandoning his career choice were laid to rest. Right or wrong, this was what he wanted to do. And oddly enough, it wasn’t just about the sex.
Jack made a light snack of canned cheese on Ritz crackers and chased it down with a soda. Typically, he tried to eat a bit healthier than that, but tonight he was too exhausted to worry about his choice of edibles. He sat on the bed, his back against the wall with a plate of crackers on his lap. He topped each cracker from the cheese can and took them in one bite, his eyes heavy and unfocused on the television screen.
The motel room felt even more empty after his experiences at Gideon’s. It was strange to Jack that he already missed the place. Out there, he would encounter sounds of nature rather t
han the noise of traffic that poured through his open window. The temperature outside may have dropped a few degrees, but the city retained the day’s heat and now his room felt too warm. He needed the cool, country breeze.
With the consumption of a half pack of crackers, Jack set the plate aside, finished off his soda, and scooted down on the bed. It was too warm to crawl under the blankets and he lay on top in just his boxer shorts. He needed sleep, and a lot of it. Shooting a solo didn’t sound too exhausting, but he’d watched some of those videos on Gideon’s site as well, and Jack was pretty sure he wanted all of his senses fresh and alert.
He tucked his hands under his head and closed his eyes. Just go to sleep and don’t think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Come on, Jacko, think about him, he’s hot”’
Jack smiled and mumbled, “Get out of my head, Jill. I’m trying to sleep.”
“You know I have to live vicariously through you, little brother. You owe me—I was supposed to be your gay twin brother. I got cheated.”
A soft chuckle vibrated in Jack’s chest. He was pretty sure it wasn’t healthy having conversations with his dead sister, but her voice had been in his brain from the moment they had learned to talk. She didn’t have to be here in the living flesh for him to know exactly what she would say to him in any given circumstance—especially one such as this. And healthy or not, that fact helped him cope, made him feel as if she were still here with him, to a degree anyway, enough to keep him from becoming exactly what she didn’t want him to become: a sad, sorry little man. He laughed softly. Even in her adult years, her favorite movie had been Toy Story.
He sighed; little brother. She had delighted in calling him little brother. Apparently her one-and-a-half-minute head start into the world awarded her the authority of the older sibling. “We’re twins, Jilly bean,” he murmured as sleep began to slur his speech. “We’re the same age. Now shut up and let me sleep.”