Wish List

by K.A. Mitchell

  And the floppy-haired twink in front of Evan in the McDonald’s line, the one with the gauges in his ears and the piercings in his lip and eyebrow. Jonah’s fingers twitched as if they were already twisted in that long hair, using it to drag those pouty lips down his cock. Yeah, Jonah bet the guy had a tongue piercing too. He had to reach into the front pocket of his jeans to do a quick public adjustment.

  Evan glanced over at him then, mouthing “You sure?”

  Jonah wasn’t sure about anything, the twink or the bear, and definitely not about sliding that kinda tacky ring on his finger to bind him to Evan for life. The realization that Evan was jerking his chin at the menu board, asking if Jonah was sure he didn’t want any food, made Jonah’s cheeks flash hot.

  He sidled up next to Evan on the outside of the queue corrals. “Fries. And a coke. And the chicken wrap. Ranch.”

  Evan smiled. His golden-brown eyes did that crinkly thing at the corners and Jonah wanted to kiss him—except for the part where he felt like a complete shit for snooping and eye-fucking every non-soccer dad-looking man in the building. Come to think of it, that nicely maintained guy with the three little blond kids had one hell of a nice ass. As if he was aware of Jonah’s slutty, wandering gaze, the twink in front of Evan turned around and flicked an—oh, yeah—pierced tongue over his lips before winking at them both.

  Three-way. That would be first on his list. He’d never done a three-way, not even in college at that party that was three tequila shots short of an orgy.

  “Anything else?”

  The leather daddy walked by on Jonah’s right. Hell yeah, there was other stuff on his list. Bondage. Real submissive stuff. Someone plowing his ass and telling him he couldn’t come, even as his balls were aching and on fire. Jonah swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on Evan’s innocent question.

  Jonah licked his dry lips. “Uh, sundae. Caramel.” Maybe Jonah could eat himself into a food coma and not have to think about anything. The twink sighed and turned away, moving up with the line.

  “You got it, babe.” The way Evan’s eyes searched Jonah’s, then held his gaze made him feel even more like an asshole.

  “I’m gonna—” Jonah swallowed again, “—find a table."

  Evan's brow furrowed. "Thought we'd eat in the car."

  Right. Despite all the stuff Evan had said about not caring how late they were, he was still pushing them along faster. Jonah was surprised they'd stopped for food at all. Well, the cold outside ought to help with the way his zipper was leaving an imprint on his dick. "Meet you at the car."

  * * *

  They hit the sheets late, after catching up with Evan’s mom and dad and the cousin who was staying at the house, but Evan was still up first. When Jonah woke, he rolled over and hugged Evan’s pillow, breathing in his smell. That turned out to be a mistake since he’d woken up with a semi and they’d only ever done it once at Evan’s parents’ house, this past Thanksgiving when Evan had been sure his parents were too far out of it from two bottles of Malbec to hear anything. Jonah wasn’t that loud, but when Evan got something stuck in his head, the idea might as well be in a freaking tar pit of stuckness.

  Jonah threw on jeans and a T-shirt and padded across the hall to the bathroom. Being all irritated with the fact that a solo in the shower was all the relief he was going to get for the next few days was more than enough to make it easy to get his dick to switch functions.

  Easier for his mind to go wandering back to those rings, too. What they meant—and what they meant giving up. Jonah didn’t exactly have the best track record. He’d cheated on more than one boyfriend—though never on Evan, never when he’d made a serious promise. Not that he’d given anyone a serious promise before. It didn’t get any more serious than what was in that box. Of course, rings and a marriage certificate hadn’t stopped either of Jonah’s parents from screwing around on each other.

  It wasn’t only all the hot guys he’d be giving up. It was all the things he’d never get to do or try. How was he supposed to know he didn’t like the whole whips and chains scene? He liked it enough in porn. Always meant to try it out, but somehow, like going down to New York for New Year’s Eve, something had always gotten in the way. Mostly his own inability to figure out what the fuck it was he wanted before the train left the station.

  Maybe if he wrote it all down, he could make a better decision. Evan was always telling Jonah making to-do lists would keep him organized, but a Things I’ll Never Get To Do If I Marry Evan list probably wasn’t what Evan had in mind.

  He pulled out his phone, but as his finger hovered to open his notes he remembered that there was no such thing as complete digital privacy. Not that he thought Evan would actually go digging on his phone, but accidents happened. Like the accident he’d had with the rings.

  Paper was safer. Old-fashioned, but definitely safer. Paper could be destroyed.

  Evan’s old desk was even more organized than his one at home. It was easy enough to find pen and paper and soon his block print was covering the first line with Threesome or Moresome.

  Jonah gave into a brief fantasy of Evan leaning in to kiss Jonah, cock buried in some random guy’s ass while Jonah’s dick filled the guy’s throat, the gasps and smells of them together. Except Evan—serious, dependable, predictable Evan—would never go for something like that. Hell, as far as Jonah knew, Evan didn’t even watch porn.

  BDSM—that covered a lot. Most of the rest of his list.

  He started with the B: Hands in cuffs. Tied. Legs forced apart. He wanted to be the one in that position, unable to touch his dick, move his hips. Taking what was given to him. The idea scared him—but evidently his balls liked being scared, tingling, weighing heavy and full between his legs.

  D: Jonah couldn’t picture Evan standing there in leather putting Jonah on his knees, but God, with someone else, someone with the voice and power to put him there... He had to stop and put the heel of his hand on his groin. Jesus. Yeah. He wanted that. A firm hand on his jaw, the hand on his head guiding his mouth around a slick head and hard length, robbing his breath as his mouth filled with the taste and the smell. God, this should have been number one on his list. A blindfold, his hands cuffed behind him. Wanting someone to take over. Own him. Use him.

  M: That one he wasn’t too sure about. Avoiding pain usually seemed like a good plan. He pictured the looks of the guys he’d seen in videos. They’d been in pain, but there was something else going on there.

  Jonah started doodling, darkening in the open spaces in some of the letters. He didn’t doubt he was in love with Evan, though it had been something he kind of fell into. Hadn’t been planning on more than a few good hookups when it started. Evan was gorgeous, modeled-as-a-teen gorgeous. Clothes catalogues and stuff. His looks had caught Jonah’s attention, but it wasn’t what had kept Jonah coming back. Evan had this way of looking at Jonah, sometimes after sex, sometimes out of nowhere, that made Jonah feel as if he was the most amazing thing Evan had ever seen. Jonah had thought it would go away and when it didn’t, he found himself trying to put that look there more and more.

  The second Jonah heard the door creak, panic chomped down on his heart. Shit. Paper was bad, very, very bad. He stuffed the paper in his front pocket as Evan pushed open the door. “If you want anything besides a half a bagel no one else wanted, you’d better get down to breakfast.”

  Jonah’s heart was jumping around to avoid panic’s chomping metal teeth, but he swallowed hard and walked to meet Evan at the door. Evan cupped Jonah’s chin and rubbed a thumb across his jaw. “Did you pack a razor?”

  “Yeah.” Jonah pulled free. “Is breakfast black-tie or something?”

  “No.” Evan’s eyes had that smile in them. “You just look so sexy like that I feel like keeping you from breakfast. And I told you what these jeans do to me.” His fingers grazed the rip on Jonah’s thigh. “Hinting a
t all that skin I want to touch. And your sexy feet.”

  Jonah stepped back. “Or this is just your way of telling me I look a little too casual for—”

  Evan grabbed Jonah’s head, hands sliding up through his hair and held him for a kiss. Jonah sucked in a quick breath and Evan’s tongue came with it. Jonah’s trip to Fantasyland had already left him hard, and now Evan was going to make him have to miss breakfast in favor of a shower. As Evan’s grip moved from Jonah’s head to his hips, dragging him closer, Evan’s hard length pressed into Jonah’s hip, a sensation guaranteed to have Jonah’s mouth watering in a nanosecond. Evan cupped Jonah’s ass through his jeans and lifted his head to mutter, “I’ll take you out for breakfast.”

  In the middle of the sudden fuck-yeah elation of Evan breaking his rule about not fucking at his parents’ house came a nasty wave of guilt. Evan could get Jonah’s engines revved pretty damned fast, but his head was still playing over scenes from that list, a list of things he’d been doing with other faceless guys, not Evan. It didn’t matter that Jonah hadn’t actually done anything wrong, he still felt like shit—with aching balls—because he stepped back.

  “I’m starving.” Jonah licked his lips and tried to think of that craggy-faced bastard from the math department to get his dick to go down. “Uh—catch you later?”

  A deep furrow cut into Evan’s brow. “Yeah.” Then he smiled. “Hurry back. Before the house fills up.”

  “Sure.”

  Chapter Four

  Jonah turning down sex once could have been a momentary aberration. A product of holiday stress. But twice? And with the memory of Jonah’s interest still a tingling pressure against Evan’s belly, it obviously wasn’t an equipment problem.

  Evan had seen Jonah freaked out before, usually when he was looking for something he needed and was already late, which made it a fairly frequent occurrence. This was more akin to panic. Jonah wasn’t exactly the type to keep things to himself either. Evan’s own erection wilted at the idea he might be dealing with something big. There were always threats of cuts at Jonah’s job, but the budget crisis usually hit around June.

  Evan started to go back downstairs when his foot skidded on a folded sheet of paper. He scooped it up and unfolded it.

  His brain processed the content in confused fragments. Doodles. Scribbles. A list in Jonah’s handwriting:

  Three-some. Moresome. W/E?

  Leather

  Cuffs

  Tied up

  Blindfold

  Anonymous

  Paddle Flogger?

  Heat flashed under Evan’s skin, tingling, prickling, then pooling in his balls as his dick went from hard to impossible to manage. He kicked the door shut and unzipped his jeans, leaning back as he fought for control, picturing vulnerable skin stretched on a cross. His to mark, to take, to own. Before he could touch it, his cock jerked, precome pearling at the tip. He’d thought he had that part of him locked down, put away. Safe from ever hitting that line again where he wasn’t sure he was playing by the rules and not by his emotions.

  He smoothed the slick drops from the tip down his shaft, and his body shuddered and convulsed like he’d just buried himself in a darkly bruised ass. Heat and sweat was what he remembered most. The heat pouring off a sub’s skin, both of them dripping with sweat.

  He gave into it, started a steady pace, grip tight and burning with friction barely eased by a little precome. He clenched his teeth as his head fell back against the door, eyes squeezed tightly shut. In the middle of the blood pounding through him, the lust that roared in and made his legs shake, he remembered that the list was Jonah’s, a shopping list to be ticked off. Jonah had never given the slightest sign of being bent toward kink. With that wannabe-rebel look and determinedly independent focus, Jonah was the last person Evan could imagine wanting to be on his knees, wrists bound, dragged mouth-first onto a cock with a riding crop held at his neck to keep him there.

  But now that Evan had that image in his head, he couldn’t let it go. He heard the whimpers in Jonah’s throat, felt them vibrated onto wet skin. The power of knowing Jonah was there because Evan put him there set off a bomb in Evan’s spine, and the orgasm rushed through him, electric sparks chasing each other around his nerves until the tension burst out of him in shuddering arcs.

  Jonah’s mouth wasn’t really there to catch it, so as soon as Evan’s legs stopped shaking, he cleaned up with the extra pair of socks he’d brought.

  Evan knelt to blot at the carpet. He couldn’t think of any scenario that started with Jonah as jumpy as a death row inmate waiting on the call from the governor and ended with a secret list of kinks. But one thing Evan did know. Sex stripped what little brain-to-mouth filter Jonah possessed and left him mellow and malleable. After fishing a condom out of his toiletry bag, Evan went looking for his boyfriend.

  He found him in the breakfast nook, the table covered with newspapers, which Evan’s mother leafed through while Jonah scanned his phone, only a hint of a smile on his face and a half eaten bagel on the plate in front of him. So much for Jonah being starving.

  Jonah glanced up as Evan entered, and what little smile there was faded. Jonah’s eyes were unusually wide and dark, and in the winter light from the bay window, his skin was washed out to pallor above the V-neck of his gray T-shirt.

  A dizzy rush of fear made Evan have to grab the counter for support. There was something that could explain his behavior. Waiting for some kind of bad news, pale and sick-looking, making a bucket list. Christ. Jonah would have told him if he was sick, if—

  Evan tried to remember when Jonah’s last trip to the doctor had been and could only remember hauling him there with the bout of strep throat. But if Jonah were going to keep something secret, it would be like him to hide some kind of...mortal...diagnosis. He would try to keep Evan from worrying.

  “Jonah” was all he could get out.

  “Morning again, dear.” His mother glanced up from the paper, then went back to the Arts section. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take you up on that offer. There’s a few things I’d like you to pick up for me at the store.”

  Evan’s mouth was dry. Swallowing wasn’t much help but he managed to sound fairly normal as he said, “Sure, Mom. Jonah and I will head out in a little while.” But the grocery store wasn’t any place for the conversation he wanted to have. Nor was the breakfast table with his cousin’s kids twenty feet away, an overly cheerful cartoon blaring while they hunched over their handheld games.

  “Jonah, want to take a walk first?”

  Jonah turned to look at the frost covering the edges of the windows, grass barely dusted with snow. “Outside?”

  Evan nodded.

  “Let me grab a sweater.”

  That was more ominous. Jonah was never cold. Evan followed Jonah’s bare footsteps up the stairs. As Jonah bent over his bag, Evan blocked the door, hands gripping the frame, elbows locked.

  “Are you all right?”

  Jonah jumped as he turned around, clutching a sweater to his chest like a petrified virgin circa 1830.

  “Are you? I mean, what’s with the walk in twenty-degree weather with a windchill of my balls are gonna permanently shrivel up?”

  Evan let out a deep breath. “Are. You. Sick?”

  “Of what?” Jonah looked confused now.

  “Medically. When’s the last time you went to the doctor?”

  “October. Have to get a physical and one of those TB things every year for work.” Jonah’s confusion faded, replaced by that anxious, waiting-for-a-death-knell expression he’d been wearing since yesterday.

  “And everything was fine?”

  “Yeah, everything was fine.” Jonah stuffed his hands in his back pockets and his chin came up, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “Are you asking like STD-wise? Because I got t
he HIV test and they ran a full screen the year before, and I’m telling you if you’ve got something you didn’t get it from me.”

  Evan felt his mouth hang open and closed it. An STD had been the furthest thing from his mind. He’d been imagining cells mutating out of control in Jonah’s body, poisoning him from the inside out. Cancer, the fucking plague that had taken his father’s sister and Evan’s grandparents far too soon.

  “No. That’s not what I was asking.”

  “Then what?” Jonah folded his arms.

  In the face of that righteous indignation, admitting to having read something Jonah had intended to keep private was impossible. Evan let go of the door frame. “I guess my ego’s a little wounded. You turned me down twice.”

  Jonah’s rigid posture relaxed and half of his smile appeared, with a hint of one of those deep dimples. The heat in his gaze made a liar out of the casual shrug of his shoulders. “Oh. Well, you’re the one who’s always said not here.”

  “Changed my mind.” Evan stepped forward.

  “In here?” Jonah jerked his thumb at the bed.

  Feet thundered up the stairs, and his cousin’s oldest son Matt stuck his head in the open door. “Mom says we’re leaving to pick up Uncle Kelly and Uncle Paul at the airport as soon as she finishes her coffee. You want to come?”

  “I think the van will be full enough with the five of you. But thanks,” Evan said.

  Matt had barely turned away from the door before he screeched. “They’re not coming.”

  Evan shut the door. “That’s three hours minimum.”