Always

by R. J. Moray

  “I don’t really care.” Channon frowned, flexing his fingers. “I guess I don’t want them saying bad stuff about you.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Like you’re a dirty old man, or taking advantage of me,” Channon said, feeling uncomfortable even thinking it.

  Jack smiled. “Well, I don’t want them saying nasty things about you either. Mostly, I don’t want them to find out about our sex life and draw conclusions from it.”

  “Conclusions?”

  “That I seduced you into being my pet.”

  Channon grinned. “You kinda did,” he said. “Thanks, by the way.”

  “You’re not angry about that?” Jack asked, in his neutral ‘don’t give anything away’ voice.

  “Nope.” Channon squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m good.”

  “Good to know.” Jack paused, watching Channon with an unreadable expression. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “About what?”

  Jack ran his thumb over Channon’s ring, that blank expression tightening. “This. The attention it draws.”

  “No!” Channon clenched his hand around Jack’s fingers. “I want this.”

  “Even if it means people prying into our lives?” Jack sounded so reasonable, and it was unfair, because Channon felt completely unreasonable about it.

  “Because they’d stop doing that if I took it off?” He took a deep breath, willing himself not to become bratty. And to loosen the knot in his throat. “If you’ve changed your mind, Sir—”

  “No!” Jack shook his head. “Not for a moment.”

  Good. Channon breathed out. “Me neither.”

  Jack tugged; Channon leaned in to be kissed. When Jack lifted his head he smiled, something like relief in his face. “In that case, I’ll have a chat with Damiano, see what he thinks. He has the best personal branding of anyone I know, I’m sure he’ll have some ideas.”

  ❧

  After breakfast, Jack went into his office to make some calls. Channon did a workout and tried not to think about whatever was happening online. Jack had given him back his phone, but Channon had remembered what he’d said about worrying, so he was studiously ignoring Twitter. When the phone rang, however, he got off the elliptical and found an incoming call from a number he didn’t know.

  The last time that had happened, he’d ignored the call only to find out it was Jack’s mom with the news that Jack was in the hospital. This time it probably wasn’t anything so dire, but he answered it anyway, braced for something unwelcome.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that Channon?”

  He recognized the accent rather than the voice. “Dean?”

  Dean laughed. “Yeah, mate. Uh, how are you going?”

  “I’m okay,” Channon said with some caution. He didn’t know what Dean might want, after all. “You?”

  “Can’t complain.” There was a pause. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

  Weird. “For what?”

  “Reckon I freaked you out the other day. With the whole Twitter thing.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. No big.”

  “Yeah? You ran outta there like your arse was on fire.”

  Channon winced, realizing he really had. “Sorry. The whole thing just took me by surprise.”

  “Yeah, right. That shit happen to you a lot?”

  “No.” He sighed, sitting down on a bench to wipe his neck with a towel. “It’s probably going to happen more, so I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it.”

  “That’s rough, mate. You holding up all right?”

  “I’m good.” Channon hesitated, unsure whether it was okay to talk to Dean about things that were personal. But. “I’m not really enjoying the attention.”

  “Yeah?”

  Was he going to say it? He was. “I got hit up by a reporter last night. At a party.”

  Dean blew out his breath through his teeth. “Brutal.”

  “It sucks, because…I don’t care that people know about the engagement. I like that, I guess. I just don’t want them asking about it. It’s not news. Why do they have to make a big deal out of it?”

  “For the record,” Dean said, in a reassuringly serious tone, “I’m not talking to any journos about you. Not that they’ve asked, but anyway.”

  Channon’s chest eased, letting go of something he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “Thanks.”

  “Um.” Another pause, this time punctuated by the sound of a bottle top being popped. “I wanted to apologize for hitting on you like that, too.”

  Channon grinned. “That’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

  “Bet your fiancé would have minded, but.”

  “Nah, he thought it was hot,” Channon said, wondering if that was the kind of thing Jack didn’t want him telling people. But probably it was fine.

  Dean chuckled and took a pull of his drink. “So I did miss out on a threesome? That’s a bloody shame.”

  Thinking about what Jack had said—If you told me you wanted me to call him right now to come over here and be fucked by you while I watched, I’d do it—Channon wondered if it really was.

  But. They were engaged. Didn’t that mean something?

  The only thing that’s changed for us is that you should know I’m yours. If being married to you means we never fuck anyone but each other? That’s fine. And if it doesn’t, that’s fine too.

  Whatever Jack had said, Channon knew things had changed. Jack asking him to marry him meant Jack thought Channon was mature enough to make that kind of decision, something life-changing and permanent in it. And Channon liked that a lot, because it made them equals in a way they hadn’t always been, if he was honest.

  Which meant that Channon got to want things, and ask for things, and maybe he’d get them, if Jack wanted them too.

  “I’m not saying there could have been a threesome,” Channon said carefully, his heart racing with the thrill of this, “but I’m not saying there can’t be. Ever.”

  Dean’s laughter was nice. Channon liked him, in a vague, no-strings-attached way that didn’t mean anything but felt good, all the same. “Well, you should hang onto my number, in case you’re up my way again.”

  “Sure. If you make it to Santa Rita some time, you should give me a call. I mean, I might want to cash in on that drink.”

  After he’d hung up, Channon took his thoughts to Jack, because of course he did. He found Jack reclined in his office chair, examining his phone like it held all the secrets of the universe, but he looked up when Channon came in.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Channon went over to kneel at Jack’s feet and rest his head on Jack’s knee. “Are you okay?”

  “Pretty good.” He smoothed Channon’s hair off his brow, smiling down at him. “Did you want something more than just being down there for a while?”

  “I like it down here,” Channon said, closing his eyes. But. “Dean called. The snowboarding guy?”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah. He apologized for hitting on me.”

  “Oh?”

  Channon scrubbed his cheek against Jack’s leg. “I told him it was fine. And I said if he was ever in town, he should call.”

  “Did you want to bring him home, sweetheart?”

  “Maybe.” Channon opened his eyes, tilting his head to look up at Jack. “I thought it might be okay. To do what we talked about. If you were okay with that.”

  “I am so okay with that,” Jack said, curling over him to kiss the top of his head. “If you are. It’s a bit different than me finding someone I trust to play with us. How do you feel about it?”

  “A solid ‘maybe’,” Channon said, and Jack chuckled, playing with Channon’s hair.

  “No rush. I guess this means you’ve thought about how things could be for us, now.”

  Because he knew Channon so well. “Yeah,” Channon said, sitting up. He met Jack’s eye easily now, knowing that everything he’d f
ind there would make him feel wanted, kept, and safe. Jack didn’t disappoint. “I figure if you’re okay with it, then it can’t be bad. I like playing with other people, and it might not be play, exactly, but…we can have sex with other people too, right? So long as we’re both there.”

  “Or we’re both okay with it,” Jack agreed, his mouth curving into a soft smile. “Tell me if you want to change that, okay? This should be a conversation, not just me telling you what to do and you going along with it to make me happy.”

  “But I like when you tell me what to do,” Channon said, and Jack’s smile ratcheted up a notch.

  “I like that too. We’ll make it work; I promise.”

  Channon took a deep breath, needing to say this out loud. “Don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

  “Never,” Jack promised, tracing Channon’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Only you.”

  And that was just the way it should be.

  ❧

  Blissful as it was to bask in Jack’s care, Jack had work to do, so Channon stripped down for his first swim of the year.

  He thought about it all as he slipped into the water, how earlier Jack had said ‘I seduced you’ and seemed so concerned about how things looked. He knew Jack liked the image of things to be right—optics, he called it—except when he decided that he didn’t give a single fuck about it. But Jack wanted Channon to feel comfortable with it all, wanted to know what Channon wanted their ‘story’ to be, how to present themselves to the world.

  Jack wanted to know that Channon was happy in their relationship, that their dynamic worked for him, and gave him what he wanted. He wanted to know that Channon was happy with the way everyone saw them, that he got what he wanted, both in private and in public.

  How did he want it? It wasn’t a question he’d ever really asked himself. They were Jack and Channon, Sir and boy. Jack was his and he was Jack’s, and Jack had given him a ring to show how much Channon would always belong to him.

  The thought made him pause in the water. That was part of it, wasn’t it? Jack had done that to show Channon and everyone around them that he meant it, that this relationship was real and permanent and not going anywhere.

  How nervous he’d sounded when he asked, like he’d thought Channon might say no. Had he worried about that? Had he thought…no, of course not. Jack wasn’t the kind of person second-guessed himself, he never—

  He’d never been engaged before. That had been the first time he’d ever proposed to anyone, and he might not have been totally sure Channon would say yes. But he’d done it anyway, because it was important. Because he’d wanted Channon to know for sure that he chose him, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  But Channon hadn’t liked it when people started to poke at it, and he’d seen Jack’s reaction to that. Jack had worried about Channon, had asked twice if Channon was sure, as if Channon might change his mind just because he hated the attention, when Jack probably loved people knowing about them.

  Because Jack was an exhibitionist. He liked an audience and wanted everyone to see him enjoying himself. With Channon.

  Jack wanted to be seen. Channon wanted Jack to be happy.

  Well. In that case, there was really only one thing Channon could do.

  Chapter Seven

  “A surprise.” Jack eyed Channon with some amusement. “What kind of surprise?”

  “The kind of surprise you need to dress up for, Sir,” Channon said, blushing beautifully. “Happy birthday.”

  Jack supposed that of all the days of the year, his birthday was probably the least surprising day to be surprised, but still he was. Channon normally didn’t care about dressing to the nines, but tonight, two weeks after New Year’s, he’d laid out Jack’s favorite charcoal suit in anticipation.

  “And what about you?” Jack asked, curious.

  “I have to dress up too.”

  Jack expected Channon would stick to jeans and a blazer, but once he’d finished playing valet for Jack, Channon went into the spare room and came back in a suit Jack did not recognize. It was a smoky navy, with thin, crisp lapels and a subtle herringbone pattern to the weave that was almost invisible. He must have bought it recently. It fit him beautifully, and Jack couldn’t help running a hand over the trim nip of his waist.

  “Did you go to Sergio?”

  “Yup,” Channon said, smiling shyly. “Do you like it? He said you would.”

  “I love it.” Jack leaned in to nuzzle Channon’s jaw. “Is that new cologne?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I thought I’d try something different.”

  Woody, citrus notes, with something reminiscent of Earl Grey tea—probably bergamot. Jack inhaled him, letting the scent fill his head. “Mmm, very pleasant. What brought this on?”

  “I wanted to smell good for you,” Channon told him, tilting his head up to look Jack square in the eye. “And look good for you. I wanted you to be proud to show me off.”

  “And we’re going…where exactly?”

  Channon wrinkled his nose. “If you order me to tell you the surprise, you’ll ruin it.”

  He had a point. Jack bussed his cheek with a kiss. “All right, then. Lead the way.”

  When Channon pulled up outside the Di Stasio building, Jack thought he must be dreaming. “Are we going to Eguaglia?” he asked. That was the kind of place Channon shied away from—tiny, exquisite dishes and extravagant decor. Everything and everyone here were on display, precisely cultivated to be the best it could be, and no expense spared. Not Channon’s style, but Jack’s, all the way.

  Channon handed his keys to the valet and reached for Jack’s arm, hooking his own through. “You’ll see.”

  Channon went up to the concierge and said, “Channon Beaumont and Jack Nash?” and after a moment, a woman in a smart service uniform came out to greet them.

  “Mr Nash, Mr Beaumont. Welcome. If you’d please come this way, we’re all ready for you.”

  Eguaglia was on the fifth floor, but the elevator zoomed right past it. Jack wanted to know what was going on with a powerful, almost dangerous desire. He didn’t ask. Any moment now it would make sense.

  And then they were let out on the top floor, into an atrium Jack had never seen before. It sprung up in a dome, warm and overflowing with tropical greenery. There were fairy lights threaded through the trees, music playing softly in the background. Channon led him in, his face flushed with excitement. Jack followed him, confusion giving way to delight. Channon had done this. Channon had planned this. For him.

  It took Jack a few moments to understand what he was seeing: cocktail tables dotted around a tiled space surrounded by greenery and orchids; catering staff with trays of drinks and finger food; people in formalwear, people he knew.

  Nate was grinning at him, clean-shaven and sharp as hell, Ewan by his side in a waistcoat that—shock horror—fit him, hardly scowling at all. There was Diana, stunning in a champagne evening dress; Jack nearly didn’t recognize Kyle on her arm, out of kink gear. Christopher and Gloria, beaming like anything next to Mr White, of all people—what a shock that was. Channon’s mom was there, looking nervous and alone. People he’d known in college. Victor Ruiz. His parents.

  What was happening? “Did you throw me a surprise party?”

  “Kind of.” Channon tugged him into the middle of the space and turned a nervous grin on him. Someone whooped. Channon laughed nervously. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, so, this is the surprise.”

  There was a smattering of laughter. Jack squeezed Channon’s hand. “Consider me well and truly surprised. I didn’t even know there was an atrium up here.”

  More laughter. It was, Jack thought, the laughter of people who were well disposed toward you and wished you only the best. He fixed his attention on Channon, though, who looked like he was struggling with the embarrassment of being the center of attention. Jack’s shy boy, who had clearly organized this despite his discomfort. Who had done this for Jack. Jack smiled, encouraging him with his eyes.

&nbs
p; Channon wrapped Jack’s hands in both of his and tilted his head to meet Jack’s gaze. The fairy lights set sparkles in his eyes. Jack caught a whiff of his cologne, mellowed into something soft and bewitching. When he smiled, Jack wondered if it was possible to keep on falling in love with him every day for the rest of his life.

  “Okay.” Channon wet his lip, his cheeks stained pink, but he didn’t look away. “I know you already did this, so it doesn’t count, technically. But I wanted you to feel the same way. I wanted,” he went on, gathering his resolve, “for you to be able to look at me and know that I chose you too. Because I do choose you.”

  Jack opened his mouth, conscious that they had an audience, but Channon squeezed his hands and he stopped himself from interrupting. Okay, he thought. Go on.

  “I thought about what it means that you gave me this ring,” Channon said, tipping their hands so his ring finger was on top. “I don’t have a, a family heirloom for you. But I did buy you something special, something I think you’ll like.” He pulled a hand free and dipped it into the pocket of his suit, and Jack felt the whole world crystalize around him.

  The ring was gold. There was a stone. Jack couldn’t take in the details of it because he felt like something tight in him had come loose. Channon had bought him a ring. Channon had invited the people Jack cared about, who cared about him, to see this. Channon, who hated making a fuss over things, who would happily fade into the background if Jack let him.

  “I know it’s, um, traditional to kneel, but I wanted to be standing up to give you this, so you’d know I meant it. So, will you take it? I said I’d marry you, but Jack, will you marry me?”

  His eyes were shining, and Jack felt sundered by the intensity of them. That Channon would want to ask. That he would do something like this, something Jack might have done for him and that Channon didn’t want for himself. And did this on his feet, equals in this moment. One man to another.

  It stripped away his lingering fears and rendered them ashes. “Yes,” Jack said, and then he had to stop because voice threatened to crack. He spread out his fingers, and Channon slid the ring home. Heavy, he thought, heavier than he’d known something so small could be.