“A week’s a long time,” Gavin said, then shrugged. “I forgot. You don’t have any trouble finding someone to suck your cock. But…” Gavin smirked as he leaned in toward Jamie’s ear but kept their hips far apart, “…how many of them do you let fuck you?”
Jamie’s stomach tightened, balls hot, tingling and heavy. Yeah, he’d let Gavin fuck him again, and it had been good. That first morning when they woke up, Gavin’s mouth had wandered from blowing to rimming, and that always made Jamie want to get fucked.
He smiled. “I’ll let you know in a week. Don’t bring the dog.” He turned to get into the truck. Annabelle sat on the driver’s seat, her tail drifting back and forth and a look of hope on her face.
Gavin laughed. “Guess she has other ideas. Take her home. See if you enjoy having her there.”
Jamie ignored the pleading brown eyes and scooped her up to hand her to Gavin. “No thanks. Told you, long-term commitment’s not my thing.” Jamie climbed in. Gavin put a hand on the doorframe.
“How long have you had the truck?”
Jamie glared. “Eleven years.”
Gavin gave him a smug smile.
“Bite me, Montgomery.”
“Maybe next week.”
A week was a long time. More than a week now. Sure Jamie had been without it longer, but he’d gotten used to the regular, really good sex with Gavin, and now they weren’t having it. Jamie could have gone out, could have called an old fuck buddy who was perfectly fine with the boundaries of get off and get gone, but every time he reached for his truck keys or his phone, he seemed to think of something else to do instead.
Tuesday, though, that was it. It was Four-Dollar Absolut night at Hey Sailor, and there would be plenty of absolutely drunk guys to pick from. He was shaved, showered and ready to roll at nine thirty when his phone rang.
“Eli?” Jamie answered cautiously, wary of why the little brat might be calling instead of Quinn.
“Hey, sailor.”
“No, that would be the tamed dick you have at home. I was a Marine, and now it would be ‘Hi, Officer’ except I’m headed—”
“To Four-Dollar Absolut Night at Hey Sailor, duh. But you don’t want to get there too early. Anyone drunk already is going to be puking before you can get him home.”
How Eli knew when Jamie had only made up his mind to go three hours ago wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He just wanted to get laid by someone whose last name wasn’t Montgomery. But the little shit had a point about those quick drunks.
“What can I do for you, Eli?”
“Long time no see and now it’s all business, huh? Exactly what have you been doing with your time? I told Quinn you’d found a steady fuck, but he said you were probably working on your truck or helping your mom clean out the attic.”
They had come to his dad’s funeral, club-rat Eli looking almost surreally conservative in a dark blue suit. Quinn had offered to help pack up anything Mom wanted to get rid of. She had called the day after Billy went back to Nevada and insisted they take out dad’s old recliner.
It had almost been too much, but Quinn had been there. Had offered to store it in his garage in case she changed her mind or Jamie decided he wanted to keep it. Having friends like them didn’t suck. And he had blown them off in favor of fucking Gavin’s brains out as much as possible.
“Did you bet him?” Jamie asked. Eli was competitive to the tips of his thick dark eyelashes.
“Let this inside information be our little secret and you can spill the beans next Wednesday.”
“Why, what’s next Wednesday?”
“Birthday party. Come hungry. I’m making two pans of lasagna.”
“Quinn’s is in August.”
“Not for Quinn. For my friend with the white-blond hair. Silver.”
“Ah. Sloppy blowjob, too much teeth.”
“I don’t think that will be an issue at the party, but if there are some exotic birthday traditions you know about, please, I’m all ears.”
“I’m not spanking him. And he’ll slobber on the cake.”
“He doesn’t have a family, you know. They tossed him out the way mine did.”
“And I’ll agree that sucks, much like his oral technique, but what’s that got to do with me?”
“Oh, I get it.”
Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. He could see the edges of an Eli-style trap, but he walked in anyway. “Get what?”
“Why you don’t want to come over. Why you haven’t been over in weeks. Why you would turn down an invitation for food you don’t have to cook or pay for.”
Fuck this, Jamie wasn’t going to stand in his own doorway all night. He put Eli on speaker and went out to his truck. “You’re not a bad cook, Eli, but getting laid—”
“You still need to eat—something other than him. So, I’m betting you are so smitten—”
“Smitten?”
“Yeah, like you’re walking around all—”
“I know what the fuck smitten means, Eli,” Jamie growled.
“Oooo. Sexy daddy voice.”
“Save that for your daddy before I tell him you’re trying to get in my pants.”
“Mmmmm.” Eli laughed. “That’ll be fun. So I’ll see you at seven?”
“Wait, what?”
“And bring the guy you’re not smitten with.”
“We’re just fucking.”
“So, bring your fuck. I want to meet him. I mean if it’s true—”
“If what’s true? I told you. It’s just sex.” Jamie didn’t want anyone getting ideas.
“Uh-huh,” Eli said in a way that seemed unconvinced. “What I meant was if what you’ve been boasting about between your legs is true, I want to see if he’s all bowlegged.”
“I never said I was coming to the birthday party.” Jamie started the truck, drowning out whatever Eli had to say to that.
“Even your truck sounds all toppy badass on the phone,” was what he heard when the rumble subsided. “So you’re not coming because you’re scared to show your frequent fuck, or you’re too good to hang with us after schmoozing the mayor?”
It was a miracle Quinn ever took his cock out of that boy’s mouth. Jamie would have made him wear a ball gag. “Fine.”
“And you won’t tell Quinn.”
“No, full speed ahead on whatever sexual coercion you have in mind.”
“See, you’re kind of a sailor.”
“Eli, tell me this isn’t going to be some suburban-housewife, dinner-party thing.”
“Please. As if I have no better taste than to mimic the breeders who tossed me and Silver out on our so-very-attractive asses. And that’s seven G.S.T.”
“Huh?”
“Gay Standard Time. Which means if you’re there before seven thirty, I’ll put your nuts in a vise. See you then. Oh, fuck someone hot at Hey Sailor for me.”
Before Jamie could get in a dig about Eli being bored with stay-at-home Quinn, Eli hung up.
Jamie cursed out the empty air and drove to the multiplex in Halethorpe to catch the latest spy movie.
By the time he left work on Wednesday, all Jamie could think about was how good it was going to be to get his cock into Gavin. It felt like the longest dry spell in his life instead of eight days. He told himself that meant it would only be better tonight when they got back to Jamie’s house. Jamie couldn’t decide what he wanted first. Gavin was all his favorite flavors on one menu.
Maybe they wouldn’t make it to Benjy’s. They could go Saturday. There’d be live music then.
Seeing his phone light up with a text from Gavin made Jamie smile. Then his back and shoulders tightened. If Gavin was blowing him off, in the sense of not blowing Jamie tonight, he was going to go out and nail the first guy who made eye contact with him at Grand Central.
I’m outside. I could play designated driver tonight.
Jamie had been drunk enough to be stupid about three times in his life, and all of those happened before his twenty-fifth birthda
y. He liked a beer, even a few beers, and he could hold it. But he didn’t like drinking. The fact that he turned down whiskey was the only thing that made his dad call him a pansy.
Jamie tapped out, I don’t drink. Park it by my truck in the alley.
His phone lit up with Gavin’s Ok before Jamie could slide it into his jacket. He could almost see Gavin’s eye roll.
Gavin’s broad shoulders and lean hips climbing into the truck reminded Jamie that if Gavin hadn’t texted, they could already be having sex on the couch. Usually Jamie liked that Gavin didn’t fill the air with chitchat, but right now the quiet seemed to be another way for Gavin to smirk at him.
Jamie snapped out, “Yeah, I don’t drink because I’m a control freak. Whatever. You like it enough when we fuck.”
Gavin sounded bored, as usual. “Well, if you’re big enough to admit your faults, I suppose I can admit that yes, I do in fact like it when we fuck.”
Jamie almost laughed then caught himself. “You can if you want, drink, I mean. I don’t give a shit.”
“There was beer in your refrigerator.” Gavin’s voice was neutral, no question in it, but Jamie heard it anyway.
“Yeah. I like beer. I’m not strictly sober or anything. But I don’t like being drunk.”
“Isn’t there a saying about not trusting a man who doesn’t drink or smoke? Is there something behind it, similar to you quitting cigarettes?”
He remembered Gavin at the hospice saying, “Is this where your father died?” like Jamie owed Gavin the lowdown on Jamie’s life story.
“Not everything has some big drama behind it. It’s not like I got drunk enough to fall off the Key Bridge or anything.”
In the awkward second after he spit that out, Jamie didn’t hear anything but the echo of his own words. He wasn’t touching Gavin, the cab was plenty big enough, but Jamie felt the body next to his tighten, contract, everything so still it was like Gavin wasn’t there anymore. The seconds of silence got more painful, squeezing tight around Jamie’s back and throat as he realized Jamie needed Gavin to be here, with him, wanted him to be more than a convenient and responsive fuck. Right now Jamie wanted Gavin to mock him, come back at him, anything but pull this disappearing-behind-Teflon act.
“Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” Jamie cleared his throat and said more forcefully, “Sorry.”
“It’s hard to take offense when I was apparently drunk enough to fall off the Key Bridge. You don’t have to tender an apology to get laid. I thought it was well-established that you didn’t have to like me to—”
Jamie’d had it with this quiet martyr act. “For fuck’s sake, how the hell can anyone figure out how to feel—you always act like you don’t give a shit, like it’s all such a bore. Christ, the only time it seems I’m not wasting your time is when my dick’s in you.”
“You’re not wasting my time.”
“Yeah, that sounds really convincing.” Jamie tried to mimic Gavin’s bored-sounding voice. What the hell did it take to get something real out of the guy? How could Jamie know if he was the only one interested in more than sex? So what if Jamie had only realized it himself a few seconds ago. Gavin was the smart one, the one who had all those expensive-sounding words to throw around.
“Is there something else I’m expected to say?” Gavin asked.
“Fuck if I know.” Jamie jammed the truck into a spot a block and a half from the bar. “Say anything you want.”
Jamie was staring straight ahead, but he felt Gavin look over at him.
“I have never been bored around you.” Gavin’s voice was quiet, but there was an emphasis there.
Maybe that was supposed to mean something, but Jamie was too pissed off at not getting a decent response to want to figure it out. After he swung down, he checked the safety on his sidearm and the holster. He hated carrying in a bar, only slightly less than he hated not carrying in a bar. If it ever came to drawing, things were probably an unfixable Charlie Foxtrot anyway.
He tugged his jacket back in place and checked his wallet, which wasn’t in his pocket. Any of his pockets. He popped the door release and checked under the seat, crawled in and checked everywhere, though he knew where the fuck his wallet was.
It was the first thing he put in his locker and the last thing he took out. Except tonight, he’d been thinking about the way Gavin’s eyes got dark and green when Jamie fucked him, and he’d slammed the locker to distract himself from getting hard right there in the locker room.
Gavin peered in through the passenger door. “What did you lose?”
“Not lost. Left my fucking wallet at work.”
“Well, I have m—”
“I’m sure you have plenty to share, Uncle Moneybags, but I need my wallet.”
“Think you’re going to get carded for being underage?”
“Yeah, that’s really funny.” Jamie climbed back in.
Gavin swung up on his side of the truck. “Uncle Moneybags?”
“The little guy in the tuxedo in the Monopoly game. I’m guessing that wouldn’t be an exciting game for rich kids.” Jamie pulled out of the spot and started driving around the block.
“It’s not a tuxedo, it’s a morning suit.”
Jamie made a sound of disgust in his throat.
“Of course we played Monopoly. But with real money,” Gavin continued.
Jamie had been looking right before swinging onto the side street and stared at Gavin’s face for a second, trying to decide if he was serious. Gavin raised his eyebrows, and Jamie couldn’t help laughing. The guy was quick. Jamie had to give him that.
“You’re a fucking dick, Montgomery. Morning suit? What the hell is that?”
“The striped trousers and the tails.”
“That’s freaking weird. How many different tuxedo things are there?”
“White tie, black tie, dinner jacket, morning suits—”
“Wait. Why did I ask?”
“You have dress uniforms.”
“And what a pain in the ass those are.” Jamie swung into the lot.
“Can I come in with you?”
“Sure.” Most people were interested in seeing inside a precinct—assuming they weren’t there to be processed.
The harbor cops, rescue divers and SWAT all shared the large precinct in Dundalk with the county police. Most of the time Jamie was out on the water, but during the winter, he pulled a regular shift often enough to hate it. He’d tried to get into SWAT when he joined up, but the height shit held him back the way it did when he tried to make SEAL.
The water unit had its own entrance and command room, joined to the main building by a narrow hall. There was a low hum from the main building. Gavin’s head moved around as Jamie led them through to the locker room. “Is that an interrogation room?” He pointed at a door.
“Actually, that’s a closet, but this one is.” Jamie jerked his thumb at the door.
This time of night, the locker room was deserted. The guys working tonight wouldn’t be back in until seven the next morning.
He popped the door, grabbed his wallet, which was right the fuck where he’d left it and turned back to Gavin, who had disappeared.
Even Gavin couldn’t be crazy enough to think they could squeeze a quickie off in the showers. Jamie checked through the bathroom, back out into the hall and through the comm. He was about to go out to the truck when an idea hit him. He went out in time to see Gavin step over the gunwales of the Sea Ark command boat.
Jamie went out onto the dock and shook his head. “Get off. Right now.”
Gavin held on to the rail. “Is this what you brought me to shore on?”
“No. Gunwales are too high. Rescues use the Hurricanes.” Jamie pointed with his chin.
“Show me around.”
Gavin thought he had Jamie all figured out now. Just pull his string and make him jump. He never should have brought up so much as the suggestion he cared what Gavin was feeling.
“What for?” Jamie folded his arms.
“Because it’s cool. I mean, I’ve been out plenty and seen the harbor patrol boats, but never thought about them before. Not until one fished me out of the Patapsco.” Hand on the rail, Gavin stepped around the cabin.
Jamie could physically haul the arrogant fuck off the deck. He was reasonably sure Gavin wasn’t trying to incite a police brutality charge.
But that struggle would get noticed on the security monitor, whereas someone apparently checking or getting gear wouldn’t. The area was gated, had to get to the boat by water or through the station, so unless there was something to see, no one would notice.
Jamie vaulted over the gunwale and intercepted Gavin on the port side of the cabin, where they were shielded from view. “Whatever game you’re playing, stop it right now.”
Gavin leaned against the superstructure. “Nice night for a boat ride. Let’s take it out.”
“Are you high? I can’t— I’m not taking her out.”
Gavin’s gaze narrowed. Was that actually irritation? Frustration? Who the fuck could tell?
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I don’t have one.” Jamie stepped closer. “Now get off this boat.”
Gavin grabbed Jamie’s head and kissed him. For a second, Jamie got lost in the smell and the taste that meant all kinds of good things. He’d slanted his head and was meeting Gavin’s tongue with his own before a moan that echoed hollowly on water brought him back as effectively as a jump over the side would have.
He brought his arms up between them and knocked Gavin’s clutching hands away.
“Christ, Gavin. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
That flash of irritation was gone, buried again under an expression as bland as dry toast. “Nothing that I’m aware of. You seem to be somewhat combustible at the moment.”
Combustible was right. Jamie turned away and leaned over the rail, entertaining a serious idea of sticking his head in the water to cool down before he hoisted the idiot over one shoulder and dropped him on the dock.
Jamie felt Gavin behind him. “Don’t touch me.” Jamie took a deep breath, the smell of diesel and stale harbor water familiar in a way that didn’t get him dangerously close to losing his mind. Jamie turned around and put a hand on Gavin’s chest, not hard, just enough to move him back a step.
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