Scottie brought over pizza and his girlfriend, Tabatha. They ate, drank beer, and continued going through his aunt’s belongings.
“When’s your mom going to come out and help with this?” A stack of things for Aunt Bernie to go through collected in a corner and threatened to spill out into the rest of the living room. “I have no clue about most of this shit.”
“I know, right? What about the TV?” Scottie asked, shoving another slice in his mouth.
“Pig.” Tabatha nudged him. “You don’t need that TV.”
Jeremy looked at the big flat screen on the wall. “I don’t want it.”
“Why? That your Buddhist beliefs talking?” Scottie laughed. The comment was good-natured, if misguided.
“No, that’s my tiny apartment and uh...no car, talking.”
Tabatha’s eyes lit up. “That’s right. Any word on your car? I hope they find it.”
Scottie huffed. “Right. You know they’re not going to find it.”
“I know.” Jeremy took a long swig of beer, wishing the conversation could be over already.
Scottie burped, finishing his beer off. “If they do, it’ll be so trashed, you won’t be able to drive it. You should get a new car anyway. Did you make a claim to your insurance?”
“I did, but I didn’t have full coverage. So, I’m not getting anything. At least, not unless they recover the vehicle. Maybe not then, either.”
“Shit.” Tabatha stood up and shook her head. “That’s total BS. They should give you something.” She headed into the kitchen. “Anyone need anything while I’m up?”
Scottie and Jeremy both said no.
“I don’t care. It was a shit car. I’m more interested right now in what we’re doing with all of this.” Jeremy got up, dropping his empty paper plate on the coffee table. He made his way down the hall to use the bathroom.
When he returned to the living room, he opened another box and sorted through the junk. Old books, cheap trinket jewelry, a small framed photo. “Look at this.” He held up the picture. It was him and Scottie when they were about three years old. “I don’t even remember that.”
“Huh? Me neither, but that’s definitely us. Look, Kitty.” He handed Tabatha the frame.
Jeremy continued sorting through the box. He found an old pocket watch, tarnished and not working. “Look at this.” He held it up.
“I think that’s grandpa’s watch. You should keep it, J.”
“I don’t know.” He wanted it but didn’t want to take anything away from Scottie, either.
“You keep the watch, I’ll unburden you of the TV. Deal?”
Jeremy laughed. “That sounds like a deal.”
Tabatha rolled her eyes and dropped the picture frame on the coffee table. “You’re both nuts. But, hey! I know a place where you can get that watch cleaned up and see if they can get it running again for you.”
“Great. Maybe I can get it done before I head home.”
“About that.” Scottie’s face turned to a scowl. “Do you have to go? Seriously? Why don’t you stay here?”
“That’s not fair. The place was left to both of us. We should sell it. Like we said, Scottie.”
Scottie busied himself searching through another box. “I know. But, I don’t need the place. Don’t need the money. At least not right away. You could stay awhile, and we could sell it later.”
“What? Why? What are you saying?” Jeremy wasn’t sure how to feel about Scottie’s suggestion.
Jeremy pulled out a handful of old makeup brushes in various sizes and offered them to Tabatha, who curled up her nose. “Ew...toss those.” Jeremy dumped them in the trash along with some other makeup cases and opened another box.
Scottie pulled one open with a quilt that looked handmade. “We might want to keep this. I bet Mom will want it.”
“Yeah. Give it to her.” Jeremy unwrapped a piece of china from some old newspaper. “She’ll want this box, too.” Both joined the corner full of Bernie’s stuff. “So, what about selling the place?”
“Maybe we don’t. I mean. It’d be cool to have a place to crash. We could rent it out. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind you being closer, dude. So, if you wanted to stay here, that’d totally be cool. You know?”
Jeremy nodded. He did know. He had thought about it, briefly. It would be nice to be closer to family, but his home was Clearwater. “I don’t know. We don’t have to decide now.”
“Yeah. Think about it, y’all,” Tabatha chimed in while grabbing another box.
“I’m not sure it matters—” Jeremy’s phone buzzed. He couldn’t think of anyone who would call him. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text.
From Oliver Mendosa.
Jeremy’s mouth fell open.
Hey Jeremy—it’s Specialist Mendosa. Call me Ollie. Want to go get a drink? I can pick you up.
“Who’re you texting?” Tabatha asked. “Somebody’s cracking your cool facade there, Jeremy!”
“Everything okay, man?” Scottie asked.
Jeremy finally shut his mouth, but the corners turned up. He didn’t want to dwell on Tabatha’s insinuation. “Yeah...uh, yeah. It’s uh...the specialist on the case. He needs, uh...more information. I guess.” Though Jeremy couldn’t guess what else he could tell the detective, and that wasn’t what the text said. He fumbled with his phone a bit before answering. He wasn’t sure what to do. “Can I get a ride up to that bar? You know, the Rocking Bird?”
“Sure.”
Jeremy might be imagining Oliver’s interest. Call him Ollie? That did sound personal. He wasn’t going to take that chance. He didn’t want to get too wrapped up emotionally when he would be leaving for home soon. He returned the text. No. I’ll meet you at that bar. Rocking Bird. The one we went to before. When?
Ollie texted back only a few minutes later, K. Thirty minutes?
Jeremy texted his agreement and jumped in the shower to wash off the dust from going through the boxes. Cleaned up, he made his way back to the living room wearing jeans and a sleeveless hoody that had stripes across the front. Scottie and Tabatha wolf-whistled and cat-called at him.
Jeremy blushed. “Stop it.”
“Uh, I assumed this was about the case.”
“Yeah? So? Doesn’t mean I can’t wear decent clothes.”
“Uh-huh,” Scottie teased some more.
Tabatha smiled and patted his arm, quickly changing the subject for him. “Hey. We have time to drop your watch off, too. It’s on the way. Let’s go.”
Jeremy liked her a bit more. “You should keep this one, Scottie-dog.”
“Yeah-yeah. And don’t start with that Scottie-dog bullshit.”
Jeremy laughed. He’d teased his cousin with that as kids, always calling him Scottie-dog, meaning the actual little black dog, and his cousin had hated it. If he was going to tease, though, Jeremy sure as hell was teasing back.
Ten – Ollie
Ollie walked up to the bar and ordered a draft, looking around. He didn’t see Jeremy yet but couldn’t wait. He rubbed his hands along his jeans. They were sweaty, giving away how nervous he was. He didn’t do this—dating.
He tried to dress casually, so he didn’t look like he was a jerk or anything. He wore skinny jeans, but they had a few holes—one in the left knee and one under his right, back pocket—and faded in good places. He’d pulled on his favorite Ramones band t-shirt and his beat-up chucks. He looked laid-back, unconcerned. I’m cool.
Sip of beer. Relax.
I’ve got this.
Until Jeremy walked in.
The butterflies in his stomach multiplied and must have brought all their friends over to join in the fun of destroying his stomach. His hands sweated like waterfalls. Fuck! He didn’t do this—this dating thing.
Jeremy was all dressed up, well a little dressed up, those blond streaks through his hair, that cocky smile, his eyes practically drilling into Ollie’s soul. How could he not try this dating thing? It couldn’t be that bad if Jeremy was here, lookin
g like that.
Jeremy stuck out his hand. “Specialist Mendosa.”
“Seriously, call me Ollie.” He didn’t shake Jeremy’s hand. He couldn’t. Instead, he pulled out a bar stool beside him. “Here. Sit. Want a drink? Beer?” He held up his bottle to get the bartender’s attention and then two fingers, indicating one for Jeremy.
“What can I help you with?” Jeremy asked, sliding onto the barstool next to him. Their knees bumped. Ollie felt like he was twelve years old again.
“You can relax. I wanted to see you. It’s, uh, it’s not about the case.”
“Oh. I assumed...”
Ollie sucked down the last swig of his beer and set the mug back on the bar. “No...I mean, uh...Yes, I'm hitting on you. I like you. I hope—”
“I don’t know when I’m going back to Clearwater. How long I’m going to be here.”
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
“What is it you want, exactly?” Jeremy bit at his bottom lip, looking unsure. Something about that lit a fire inside of Ollie—a fire that burned away all those butterflies, or maybe they’d been moths.
He wanted Jeremy. Wanted more time with him. Whatever he could get. But he didn’t want any misunderstandings. “So, in case you’re wondering, yes. I'm gay. Everything about me screams it. I know. But don't ever, ever mistake me for anything less than masculine. Seriously. I'm not afraid of shit. I work out, and I may be a behind the scenes type of guy. I’m a programmer and an analyst. That’s what a specialist is, but I’m still a cop. So I can and will shoot a bitch. And seriously? If you want to get with me, you better be prepared to bottom.”
“Uh...”
Ollie smiled. “I want to get under your skin, make you lose your cool. Drive you bat-shit crazy. Yeah, I want to see you come un-fucking-glued and hear you scream my name.” Ollie took a hell of chance, but Jeremy was worth it.
Jeremy’s startled face morphed into something else. Confusion and certainty warred for a moment, but then he smiled. A big, happy-light-up-the-entire-fucking-bar smile. “Yeah. I’d like to hear that, too.”
“I’m renting a place. Want to come?”
Jeremy laughed at the unintended pun. “Yes.”
The bartender took that moment to slide two beers in front of them. “Drink your beer, then we’ll go.”
Jeremy agreed and drank his beer quickly, which pleased Ollie in an irrational way. He didn’t finish his second one, and he didn’t care. He tossed money on the bar and slid his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders.
Outside, Jeremy balked when he saw the motorcycle.
“It’s fine. I didn’t even finish my second beer.”
“I’ve, uh, never...a motorcycle?”
Ollie smiled at him, reassuringly. “I’m a good driver. You’ll love it.”
By the time they neared Ollie’s place, Jeremy practically bounced up and down. Apparently, he did love it, and Ollie decided that he loved making Jeremy happy.
Ollie had rented a condo in Five Points that overlooked the St. John's river and was a ten-minute drive to the Sheriff's office across town off of East Bay. The place was called the Beau Rivage, though it didn’t seem French at all. Regardless, Jeremy oh’d and ah’d over the views.
His living room and bedroom both had balconies that overlooked the river, and the sun was setting. Ollie had never been the romantic type, at least not since he’d been a kid. Not since Hayden Church. Not since he’d learned how cruel life could be. Here with Jeremy, though, watching Jeremy’s pure pleasure at seeing the colors streak across the sky like a pastel painting, had Ollie wanting his heart to soften a bit like those pinks and purples and oranges that reflected in Jeremy’s eyes. “Cool.” The allure of it made Ollie uncomfortable. He went back inside, leaving Jeremy to the view.
After a minute, Jeremy followed him in and sat next to him on the leather sofa. Ollie gestured around. “I rented this place furnished. On a short-term lease. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in Jax, either.”
“Oh?” He slid his hand over the hole in Ollie’s jeans, fingering it.
“I’m from New York. I’m here to test D-TAPPPSS then I go home.”
His fingers stilled, leaving Ollie wanting more touching. “D-what?”
“My app.” He put his hand over Jeremy’s and turned to face him.
“Oh.”
Ollie pulled Jeremy closer until he was almost in his lap. “I’m being straightforward. I don’t have time for games. Neither do you.”
“Right.”
“I want you. Like I said, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I don’t think you are either.”
Jeremy leaned his head in closer and slid his ass up the rest of the way. Ollie had his arms around Jeremy’s back and slid them into Jeremy’s hair as he took his mouth. He shoved his tongue in, licking across Jeremy’s. Hot. Wet. Velvet sliding against velvet. Ollie’s cock ached for more with Jeremy’s ass sliding around in his lap. He rubbed his hands over Jeremy’s bare arms, loving the definition of muscle and hot skin.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.”
Jeremy hummed and pulled his hoodie off as he stood up. His chest had been kissed to bronze by the sun, and his nipples were little coral discs. Ollie took Jeremy’s hand, pulled him down the short hall, and shoved him on the bed.
Ollie liked control in the bedroom, and Jeremy seemed almost shy but definitely willing to give Ollie what he wanted. He leaned over Jeremy’s lap and unbuttoned his jeans. “Take these off. Up.” He manhandled Jeremy into lifting his ass off the bed, so Ollie could yank the denim down. Jeremy wore black briefs under them, and they came down, too. Pesky moths fluttered around inside him as if a light inside his chest came on at the sight of a naked Jeremy sitting on his bed. “What’s your last name?”
Jeremy laughed. “Now you’re asking? Don’t you know? I gave all that info.”
“You’re listed under a number in the app, and I didn’t pay attention. Not until I actually saw you.”
“Huh. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like dinner.”
“You could be...What’s your last name?”
“Ringer.”
Ollie knelt in front of him. “Okay, Jeremy Ringer.” He licked up the outside of Jeremy’s cock. It was a blushed coral, almost matching his nipples, except for the top. The crown of his circumcised dick was darker, almost but not quite red, and thick. He ran his tongue around the edge and over the slit.
Jeremy made a noise. A gurgle of sorts. Ollie wanted to hear it again. He sucked the head into his mouth and was not disappointed. Jeremy gasped and gurgled. Ollie had to stop because he was smiling too hard. Jeremy’s dick popped out of his mouth, and Ollie laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m an idiot.” Ollie stood and yanked his shirt off. He started to pull off his jeans but had to stop and sit on the bed beside Jeremy to get his shoes off first. Quickly the shoes and jeans followed his shirt, ending up in a pile on the floor.
“You’re not an idiot. You’re...sexy. Very sexy.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said with a chuckle, as Ollie pushed his shoulders back on the bed and straddled him. He reached between them and lined their cocks up, grasping them both in his sure hands.
Jeremy gifted him with more incredible sounds, his voice deeper. So sexy. Ollie couldn’t stand it. He focused on Jeremy’s eyes, his pupils blown. Jeremy watched him with a serious expression as Ollie chased his orgasm. His goal had been to take Jeremy apart, but he missed his mark. Every bit of Jeremy, his eyes, his expression, his sounds, and that damned cocoa butter scent, had Ollie falling to pieces instead. “Oh, God! I'm—” Cum splashed across his abs. “Fuck!”
“Shit,” Jeremy echoed.
“I'm still hard. I've got more.”
“You do, huh?” Jeremy grabbed Ollie’s balls and wiggled his fingers. His rough touch didn’t feel all that good, but the fact that it was Jeremy touching him? That mad
e his dick throb back to life. Ollie needed it—needed more of Jeremy.
Coming had released some of the tension and felt good, but it wasn't a hard orgasm. Ollie’s cock was quickly ready for another round. “I want to fuck you, Jeremy. Please?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Do it.” He bit his lip, gazing up with eyes that went from piercing blue to stormy, mimicking the ocean. He was gorgeous and carefree. So much of what Ollie wasn't. Why had he hesitated to ask Jeremy out? How could Ollie possibly ignore him? Jeremy was a contradiction. He was strong, practically a force of nature, yet so calm and laid back, like the eye of the storm.
Ollie leaned up and grabbed a condom out of his wallet on the bedside table. He might not know why he had initially hesitated to call Jeremy, but he wasn't waiting any longer. The lube bottle clicked as he popped the lid open, then made a farting sound as he squeezed the last of it out on the tips of his fingers. Jeremy laughed, and Ollie chuckled with him. “What? Are you twelve?”
Jeremy's eyes kept laughing, even after the sounds ended and his stomach stopped trembling. “Hurry up, Ollie,” he teased.
With condom on and Jeremy’s ass lubed, Ollie leaned forward and pushed the head of his cock in Jeremy’s hole. The first few seconds were a struggle. “Fuck!” Ollie breathed the word out as he forced his way in.
Jeremy pushed against him and pulled his knees closer to his chest. With a grunt, Ollie breached him. He had to hold still, but only for a second. The need to fuck overwhelmed him. His hips rolled almost as if they had a goddamned mind of their own. His hands found the backs of Jeremy's thighs and used them for leverage. Jeremy didn’t seem to mind.
“God! Ollie. I can come like this. Just like this.” Ollie canted his hips to the side and Jeremy made a high-pitched moan. “Right there! Oh, God. Right there! Ollie!”
He fucked into Jeremy harder, hips popping, chasing that orgasm. Jeremy moaned his name again, his hole tightening around him, hot and gripping. Ollie exploded into the condom, his body seizing up as if paralyzed. Jeremy’s cum splashed out, joining his earlier contribution. “What a mess.”
Time for Love Page 5