Misfits

by Garrett Leigh

  Frustration warred with the hornet’s nest of pleasure in Jake’s belly. He wanted to shake Cass until every part of him was laid bare, but the sensation of his dick buried inside him proved distracting, and the resolution of the tension that had brewed between them since Cass had caught him in Tom’s bed too enticing to ignore.

  Jake rolled his hips a fraction. His head fell forwards, and he moaned. “You feel so good.”

  “Says you.” Cass panted out a stuttered breath. “Tom told me you felt amazing like this. I believe him now.”

  “Maybe you can show me one day.”

  “Yeah? Want me to ride you?” Cass’s eyes fluttered closed. “I could do that. I could do anything with you.”

  Anything. Jake stared down at fierce, beautiful Cass at his mercy, and yeah, anything suddenly felt possible.

  He rode Cass slow, like a painstaking meeting of minds. Cass felt different than Tom, smelled different, but the crazy pleasure was no less intense, Jake took his time exploring him, twisting and rolling, paying heed to what made him buck and moan. He knew from Tom that Cass was an eclectic lover—that he got off on pushing boundaries—but Jake sensed Cass didn’t crave adventure from him now. Didn’t want it. No. Cass wanted, needed, the same as him, needed to know that the spark between them was real, tangible, and that it would be there long after their blood cooled.

  Jake took his control to the limit, pushing himself to the brink over and over, only to pull back at the last moment, unwilling to end this so soon. Beneath him, Cass moved in sync. His face was a study in restraint, but the sweat-sheened flush darkening his chest, and the teeth bruising his bottom lip gave him away.

  Cass pulled Jake down, crushing him to his chest, and together they rolled over, moving like they’d done this every day of their lives. He pushed Jake onto his stomach and drove inside him again. Jake gasped and grabbed a pillow, burying his face even as he shoved a hand between himself and the mattress and gripped his cock. He’d pictured them like this—him facedown with Cass all around him, fucking him the way only someone who’d done it all could fuck.

  Cass groaned and fell to the side, taking Jake with him. Tom was a quiet lover, but not Cass, and as the morning sun began to filter through the half-closed curtains, he growled into Jake’s neck and came, the beat of his heart against Jake’s back matching the pulsing warmth where their bodies were joined.

  It tipped Jake over the edge. He came with a low cry and spilled into his hand.

  White noise followed, and for an unmeasured moment, they lay silent and still. Jake chased his breath. He’d always known Cass would blow his mind, but this? Damn. He was wrecked, and wanted to do nothing but enjoy Cass’s clumsy embrace and breathe.

  A tic shattered the quiet. Jake jerked and threw Cass back into the pillows. He froze, horrified, but Cass’s laughter reeled him in. Jake rolled over and found Cass’s eyes, got lost in the depths of his dark-blue gaze. “Fly him to the moon.”

  Cass laughed again, and the sun shone a little brighter. “Whatever you say, Jake. You’re stuck with me now.”

  Jake: Cass came home last night.

  Tom: Good. I’ll be home around six. Take care of each other.

  Despite Jake’s frenzy of tics, Cass drifted back to sleep, and he stayed that way for most of the morning. Jake watched him for a while, heeding Tom’s advice and making the most of their quiet time together, but around nine, he got up, fed the cat, and fetched his laptop. When he got back, Cass had rolled over and his expression didn’t look entirely peaceful. He muttered something and reached out. When he found nothing, he groaned and rolled again, still reaching.

  Jake quickly clambered back into bed. Cass talked in his sleep most nights he came home, but this felt different, like Cass was searching for someone, anyone, to pull him back from wherever his dreams had taken him.

  Cass must have sensed Jake’s presence because he pressed himself tight against Jake’s side. Jake hugged him with one arm, felt Cass’s trembling like it was his own, and tried to channel some of Tom’s warmth and strength.

  A tear rolled down Cass’s cheek. Jake kissed his bare shoulder. “You’re not alone, Cass. I promise.”

  Whether Cass heard him or not, Jake didn’t know, but his shaking calmed and eventually passed, and it wasn’t long before he was sound asleep beside Jake once again.

  Jake waited awhile to be sure, then retrieved his laptop from the bedside table and booted it up. The launch of Pink’s website had been a tentative success, but he still had much to do on the Camden project and growing the social media profile for the company as a whole.

  He got lost in his work. Setting up the Camden restaurant was fun, but his passion lay in coding and design, and creating new websites for each individual Urban Soul business was a task that seemed to get bigger as he worked, even with the distraction of Cass naked beside him. He’d been engrossed for a few hours when a low chuckle startled him.

  “You’re so cute when you concentrate.”

  Jake tore his gaze from the screen and scowled at Cass. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Long enough to form an objective opinion.” Cass shifted and stretched. “What time is it?”

  “Eleven. You okay?”

  Cass rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep. I needed it.”

  “I could tell.” Jake recalled Cass the night before, almost loopy with exhaustion. “Do you feel better?”

  Cass shrugged. “I feel a lot of things. What about you? The fact that you’re tapping away on that thing in your birthday suit seems like a good sign to me, but I’ve been wrong about these things before.”

  The uncertainty colouring Cass’s features caught Jake’s attention. He set his laptop aside and slid down the bed. “I don’t regret anything. Do you?”

  “Not at all.” Cass touched Jake’s cheek. “I feel like . . . I don’t know, like we’ve resolved something we were both worried about.”

  Jake grinned. “Works for me, but what were you so worried about? That fucking me would be crap?”

  “No.” Cass cleared his throat. “I knew we’d be hot together the moment I saw you. I guess I was worried we’d wait too long, and sex would change everything between us.”

  “Wankers. Sorry. Ruin our beautiful friendship, you mean?”

  Cass rolled his eyes. “Piss off. Did you talk to Tom yet?”

  “Yeah, he’ll be home around six. What are you doing today?”

  “I might tile the bathroom, if I can be arsed, and you don’t give me a better offer.”

  Cass coughed again. Despite his epic sleep, he sounded a little rough. Jake put his hand on his chest. Did he feel warm? Cuddled up in bed, Jake couldn’t tell. “It’s Monday, so you should chill out. What do you usually do with Tom?”

  “I’ve told you before . . . walk, eat, and fuck, though I guess we started early. That was this morning, right?”

  Jake smiled. “You don’t remember the sun?”

  “Fuck the sun, Jake. I only saw you.”

  It took Cass a while to get going, but after a hot shower—with company—Jake persuaded him to leave the tiling for another day and take a walk along the canal instead. On the way home, they stopped by the farm shop and picked up chicken and vegetables to continue their tradition of Cass teaching Jake how to cook Tom’s favourite meals.

  Jake let them into the house and took their wares through to the kitchen. Cass followed, turning the oven on as he passed, and retrieved the equipment they needed to make a roast dinner.

  “Why are you and Tom so sneaky about the nice things you do for each other?” Jake asked.

  “Sneaky?” Cass unwrapped the chicken and dumped it in a roasting tray. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Jake shrugged. He knew what he meant, but articulating it was difficult. “You’re cooking Tom dinner under the guise of teaching me life skills. Why can’t you just admit you want to make him smile?”

  Cass snorted. “Trust me, mate, it’ll take more than a ch
icken dinner to make him smile at me. I’ve been a twat to him all weekend. Think he’s fed up with me.”

  “I doubt that.” Jake hadn’t seen Tom and Cass together, or at least, awake and together, for a few days, but he knew it would take more than a couple of grumbles to make Tom truly angry with Cass. “Tom loves you.”

  “I know that.” Cass finished rubbing butter on the chicken and jammed a lemon inside it. “Doesn’t stop me doing my best to fuck things up, though. Wouldn’t blame him if he kicked me to the kerb. I’ve given him enough reason over the years. Here, bung some wine in this tray. I’ll show you how to make gravy later.”

  Jake poured white wine into the bottom of the chicken tray, and for a while they fell into their by-now-familiar roles of student and teacher. Jake liked watching Cass cook, and hearing him explain the various processes, but the distraction didn’t stop him pondering Cass’s words. He’d never known two people to love each other as much as Tom and Cass did, and he couldn’t imagine Tom ever turning his back on Cass. “He’d never leave you.”

  “Yeah, he said that once. He hasn’t said it for a while, though.” Cass flashed Jake a cheeky wink, but his droll grin didn’t reach his eyes.

  Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. “Tom told me you hate cooking at home. What’s up with that?”

  “Hmm?” Cass chopped a board of carrots so fast Jake almost missed it. “I don’t hate cooking at home, I just break stuff. Everything’s too small. I’m used to caravan-sized saucepans and nuclear gas burners. I get a bit lairy at home.”

  “You seem pretty Zen to me.” It was true. Though talking about Tom had dampened the mood, Cass always seemed calmer when he cooked, like it took him away from the world for a while.

  Cass swept the carrots into a small baking dish. “That’s you, mate. You’re a good influence on me. Even Tom says so.”

  Jake didn’t know how to respond to that. Cass hadn’t seemed to notice his tics all but disappeared every time they cooked together. Maybe they were good for each other. “I’ve done the potatoes. What’s next?”

  “What else did we buy?”

  “Parsnips, carrots, and peas. I reckon I can manage that if you tell me what to do. Sit down. Watch someone else cook for a change.”

  Cass looked as though he might protest, but then he dropped into one of the kitchen stools and put his head on his arms. “You’re dangerous with those puppy-dog eyes.”

  Jake stuck his tongue out and held up the parsnips. “Shut it. Do I need to cut these up?”

  “Yeah, same as the carrots. We’re going to bake them, then add some cinnamon and honey.”

  Jake followed Cass’s instructions and prepared the rest of the vegetables. When he was done, he made Cass a cup of tea and set it in front of him. “You’re a good teacher.”

  “Thanks,” Cass said dryly. “That your idea of a chat-up line?”

  “Probably. I’ve never chatted anyone up before.” Jake brushed some hair away from Cass’s eyes. It was easier to do that kind of thing with Cass than with Tom, like their shared love for him equalled them somehow.

  Cass smiled. “You know, you’re more like Tom than you think.”

  “I’m nothing like Tom.” Strong, wise, and warm. Nope. That wasn’t Jake.

  Cass shook his head. “You don’t see yourself at all, do you?”

  “You’re talking in riddles.” Jake gave Cass a shove.

  Cass sighed and slid off his stool. He looked like he wanted to say something . . . do something else, but then the phone rang, and he sloped off to answer it without another word.

  After an hour, he still hadn’t come back. Jake cleaned up the kitchen with his mind half on his abandoned laptop upstairs. Alongside the ongoing Camden project, Pippa’s website was his next task, and he’d meant to pick Cass’s brain while they’d been cooking, but being with him had proved as distracting as ever.

  The oven timer went off as Jake was loading the dishwasher. He opened the oven and eyed the chicken, trying to remember what it was supposed look like when it was cooked. He took it out and set it on the side. Cass had said something about loose legs, but he may have been taking the piss.

  Jake was poking at the chicken with a fork when he heard the front door open a minute later. He greeted Tom with an absent smile. “You’re early.”

  Tom dumped his laptop bag on the table. “Didn’t feel like hanging around. Something smells good. Where’s Cass?”

  “On the house phone.”

  “To who? My mum? She’s the only one who ever calls that number.”

  “No idea,” Jake said. “He’s been gone awhile.”

  Tom’s expression softened. “Fair enough. I’m going to get changed, then I’ll come and give you a hand.”

  He disappeared. Jake called the chicken’s bluff, judged it cooked, and set the potatoes on the hob to parboil. He could bodge the rest of the vegetables, but he’d have to wait for Cass for the gravy.

  “You look lost.”

  Jake jumped and spun to face Tom. “I’m all right. Don’t know what to do next though.”

  “Don’t worry, I do. Cass has likely dozed off on the couch by the phone. My mum has that effect on the best of us, and he’s probably knackered after a killer weekend. Let’s finish dinner, then see if we can bully him into an early night.”

  “I can finish dinner.” Jake considered the pans still requiring his attention.

  Tom laughed. “Sounds like you want to look after him too. Is this how it’s going to be now? Us fighting over who gets to love him the most?”

  “How do you know I love him?”

  “Because I know you’ve slept with him, Jake, it’s written all over your face. And I know what happened to me the first time I had sex with Cass. You might not know it, but you’re as in love with him as I am.”

  Jake scowled, though he didn’t mean it at all. He’d been searching for the words to tell Tom what had transpired between him and Cass, and knowing he didn’t have to was such a relief he felt like he could pass out. “He thinks you’re in love with me.”

  Tom shrugged. “Cass is a clever bloke.”

  Warmth filled Jake’s chest. “Guess it’s all falling into place, eh?”

  “I hope so.” Tom stared at Jake for a long moment, like he was trying to convey something he wasn’t ready to say out loud, then he broke the deadlock and peered at the dishes on the counter. “What are you making?”

  “We were making roast chicken, but the gravy is a bloody mystery to me.”

  Tom smiled. “Well, lucky for all of us, Cass usurped my mother and taught me to cook too. Why don’t we see if we can finish this off between us before he gets back?”

  So that’s what they did. Tom’s approach to cooking was a little slapdash, but between them, they managed to cobble together a pretty good-looking dinner, and Jake felt his mood teetering around the edge of the happiest he’d been in years. He hadn’t realised how worried he’d been about Tom’s reaction to him and Cass fucking until Tom had come home and put his mind at ease. Which made no sense at all, because Jake had known from the start, long before he reckoned Tom knew it himself, that the three of them together was Tom’s dream, a dream Jake now claimed as his own.

  Tom rested his chin on Jake’s shoulder. “Smells good.”

  Jake leaned against Tom, enjoying his comforting bulk. “Think it’s up to Cass’s standards?”

  “Don’t let his big talk fool you. Cass likes cold baked beans. He has no . . .”

  Jake turned his head, searching out the source of Tom’s distraction. His gaze fell on Cass, who stood in the kitchen doorway, the cordless phone clutched in his hand and his face like a ghost’s. “Cass? What’s the matter?”

  Cass stared right through him, his eyes only for Tom. “They found my mum’s body.”

  “They found my mum’s body.”

  It took Tom ten seconds to lose Cass. Five words, and then he was gone, leaving nothing but pale skin and empty eyes.

  Tom dropped the ve
getable pan on the counter. He started across the kitchen, but Cass was already backing away, shrinking into himself in a way he hadn’t seen in years.

  “Cass—”

  “Don’t.” Cass blocked Tom with his arm. “I need to go.”

  “What? Where?”

  Cass didn’t answer. He turned his back on Tom and moved through the unpainted hallway like a shadow. Tom caught up with him at the front door. “Where are you going?”

  “Leave me alone.” Cass shrugged him off and stamped into his shoes.

  “No bloody chance.” Tom put himself between Cass and the door. “Cass, talk to me. You can’t just leave. How do you know they found a body? Did the police call you?”

  “Does it matter?” Cass’s voice sounded distant, like he’d already checked out. “Move.”

  “No.”

  “Move.”

  “No.”

  Something changed, like a haze descended over Cass and turned him inside out. He lunged at Tom and yanked him away from the door. “You can’t fix this by being a bloody hero, now get out of my fucking way.”

  Tom stumbled. Cass was halfway to his car before he righted himself. He dashed out into the wet evening drizzle and blocked Cass’s path again. “Cass, stop. For fuck’s sake. Talk to me.”

  “Why? So you can tell me it’s all in my head again? No, thanks.”

  Guilt burned a hole in Tom’s gut. Over the years, Cass had distanced himself from his mother’s absence, but in recent months he’d begun to dream about her again, thrashing around in the night, calling her name and Dolly’s, like he’d lost them both just yesterday. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know.”

  “I need to go. I can’t be here. I need to be . . .”

  Cass stopped. Tom caught his arm. “Don’t go. Please. Whatever’s happened, we can figure it out together.”

  “Get the fuck off me.” Cass wrenched his arm free, unlocked his car, and opened the door. “You don’t get it, do you? This shit doesn’t come right with a pot of Earl Grey and a fucking biscuit. Some workmen found a sack of human remains on a building site. The coppers think it’s my mum. How the fuck are we going to figure that out?”