Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  “Have fun.” Kelsey waved cheerfully and left with her two friends.

  “You,” Logan said to Caleb, “are quite the chick magnet today. I’m almost jealous.”

  “Well, I’m jealous that you got called the Incredible Hulk and Shrek, whereas all I scored was ‘Blondie’.” Caleb could hear the slight tremor in his own voice.

  “You’re forgetting the gum,” said Logan.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Not gonna switch teams, are ya?”

  “Not if this team has butter.”

  Logan leaned back and grinned at the ceiling. “Can’t wait to get you home.”

  CALEB ENTERED the bathroom and pulled off his clothes. Reaching around the shower curtain, he adjusted the spray to hot. After six weeks, it was such a relief to wash without having to worry about getting his cast wet. Removing the cast yesterday had been stressful for everyone. When the doctor insisted he take a sedative rather than risk a panic attack while the cast was being sawed off, Logan looked on the verge of swooning, likely infected by Caleb’s amputation fears. It was sort of nice to be the one patting Logan’s hand and reminding him to breathe.

  Tonight, they were going out. Logan had insisted on being responsible for purchasing tickets for the Cubs versus the Marlins, refusing to let Caleb help pay for them. Caleb stepped into the shower, letting the heat relax the tense muscles in his back and neck. He hadn’t slept well last night, his brain refusing to quiet. He had longed for the feel of Logan pressed against him, the heat of his body warm and welcome. A game was three hours long and until now, they had only managed two hours, and that was to a matinee movie, where less than a dozen people attended. Not like Wrigley Field, where there would likely be over forty thousand fans packed into the old ballpark. God, what if I have an attack during the game? How will we get out?

  “Stop!” Even after over a month of successfully working with his therapist, it still felt weird to talk to himself aloud, but he couldn’t argue with the results. He had managed two brief trips out on his own. Dr. Ryan apparently knew what she was talking about. “Logan got us aisle seats. He’ll be able to haul me out of there if I freak out.” He squirted a dab of shampoo on to his hand and started lathering his hair. “No one will notice if I end up racing out of the stadium. They’ll just think it’s the nachos making me sprint to the nearest bathroom.”

  Leaning back his head, he rinsed off the soap. Regaining control was harder since he had reduced the dosage of the anti-anxiety medication, but it needed to be done. He didn’t want to depend on the highly addictive pills as a long-term solution. He finished washing and got out of the shower.

  Wiping off the mirror, he looked at his reflection. His most recent trip out had been to a hair salon to get his mop of hair cut short. Logan had goaded him into getting the cut by buying him a hairnet, claiming it was to keep hair out of the food. Caleb had refused to cook for him for a week, but he still booked an appointment. In revenge, he found the glitziest, most posh place he could find, where the stylists were fab-u-lous and charged more than a month’s worth of groceries for a wash and cut. Seeing Logan sit on the trendy leather couch surrounded by the Chicago chic, looking wide-eyed and frantic, had been worth the price.

  Caleb made his way into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. He had expanded his wardrobe, but he was still more comfortable in his old clothes. He pulled his meditation mat from the closet and placed it on the floor facing the bed. Using a lighter, he lit a large candle in the center of a brass plate. He settled on the mat, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, and closed his eyes. Breathing slowly and deeply, he let the warm, woodsy scent of sandalwood soothe him. He used the words of his therapist as a focus. You’re not trying to stop being afraid. You’re trying to stop fear from controlling you. Embrace the fear and then let it go. It sounded easier than it was, but he had made progress. He couldn’t escape his fears, but he could make peace with them and try to make them useful instead of crippling. He emptied his mind of random thoughts, worries, emotions, and hopes for the future until only the fear remained. He tried to pin down each fear. The embarrassment he felt when others witnessed his panic. The helplessness when he lost control. The feelings of unworthiness. The dread of rejection. He focused on each fear and then tossed it away like a wad of paper.

  Taking another deep, cleansing breath, he opened his eyes and rose. He blew out the candle, stashed the mat in the closet, and headed for the main room. He settled behind his desk and booted up his laptop. He needed a distraction and work was usually good for one. As he opened his e-mail, there was a knock on the door. Frowning, he looked at the time. Logan wouldn’t be here for several hours. He hesitated. Who could it be?

  OUTSIDE IN the hall, Logan waited for Caleb to open up. He listened, but he didn’t hear any sounds of movement. “It’s me,” he called through the door. “I’m early.”

  Quick footsteps sounded and then Caleb was gazing up at him with an expression of such shy happiness on his face that it made Logan feel warm all over.

  Logan grinned at him. “Surprise.” He stepped into the apartment and secured the door before dragging Caleb close for a brief kiss. When he pulled back, he asked, “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  Caleb looked down at himself. “Have you gotten over your sweatpants obsession?”

  “Hell, no.” They shared another brief kiss. “But that don’t mean I want anybody else seeing you in them.” His hand wandered to Caleb’s ass, giving it a possessive squeeze. “You need to buy some that don’t threaten to cut off your circulation.”

  Caleb wrapped his arms around Logan, hugging him close. “They’ll be too busy staring at you to notice my wardrobe deficiencies.”

  “You go right ahead and keep being clueless about how hot you are.” He ran his hand through Caleb’s damp hair. “Much less likely to replace me with Randy the Beautician that way.” Caleb’s hands were caressing his muscles in a very distracting way.

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who had half the staff begging to rub oil on your bald head.”

  “Hey!” Logan said, lifting a hand to his head. “Shaved, not bald.”

  Caleb looked at his forehead dubiously. “If you say so.”

  Logan grabbed Caleb around the waist and threw him over his shoulder. “Be nice to me, you little shit,” he said, smacking Caleb’s tempting ass. “I got off of work early just to see you before the game.”

  Caleb made a strangled sound. “Let’s sit on the couch.”

  Logan complied, sitting on the dark leather couch and hauling Caleb onto his lap. Caleb’s face was a bit flushed, likely from the head rush, as he leaned in for a kiss. He tasted like the chamomile tea he favored, buttery and floral with a hint of honey. Logan liked that he had time to savor the taste of him. Far too often, their encounters were rushed since he had begun working full-time and he still needed to get home for his 8:00 p.m. curfew. He hated crawling out of bed and leaving, but he refused to have Caleb at his rathole. Caleb was reintroducing himself to the world he’d hidden from for years. He didn’t need reminders for why it was safer to stay at home than venture into Logan’s neighborhood.

  Logan noticed Caleb’s normally neat desk was covered in papers and brightly colored Post-it notes. “You working?”

  “Oh, that. I’m presenting to Daniel’s class next week, so I need to figure out what I’m going to say.”

  “You going in person or using that web thingy?”

  “I haven’t decided. It would be easier to interact with the class and answer questions if I’m there in person.”

  Caleb didn’t need to voice the downside to that scenario. Going back to the school where the panic attacks had started was bad enough. But standing in front of a lecture hall full of over-caffeinated and bored college students would give anyone pause. Yeah, until they got a look at their guest speaker. Then every girl and gay guy would be paying attention like an eager puppy. “Do you want me to go with you?” And smack the p
uppies with a newspaper when they jump all over you? he added silently.

  “I can’t keep relying on you, and Daniel will be there.”

  Sometimes the whole business of being supportive really sucked. Logan was glad Caleb had found a new friend, but why couldn’t it be the “I’m a dyke and proud of it” chick from the first floor? Instead of a hot professor with wide, blue eyes and tousled curls. Who’s everything I’m not. Smart and educated and not an ex-con. The kind of person Caleb should be with.

  Logan kneaded Caleb’s shoulders. As his fingers worked to ease the tight muscles, Logan could see the tension growing in Caleb’s shoulders. Leaning forward, he buried his face against Caleb’s neck. Caleb’s skin had that freshly scrubbed scent with a whiff of candle smoke. Kissing the side of his neck, he asked, “What’s your number?”

  Caleb huffed. “My ass is pressed against your dick and you want to know that?”

  He nuzzled Caleb’s neck, silently urging him to continue. He knew Caleb hated admitting his level of anxiety, but the therapist insisted it was important, especially if Caleb was going to get further than two blocks from home on his own. Logan tried very hard to keep his own fears hidden. He didn’t want to stilt Caleb’s confidence by admitting he didn’t want Caleb going anywhere alone.

  Logan hadn’t seen much of Foster since yelling at her on the floor of the warehouse, but that didn’t make him any less wary of his supervisor. Michael said there wasn’t much else he could do without bringing Klass on board. Logan wasn’t sure if he should approach Klass or not. Something was going on with his boss. Last week, he observed a guy in a slick suit and with carefully coifed hair walking on the floor with a flustered-looking Klass trailing behind him. Toward the end of his shift, Logan spotted the same man exiting the break room, face flushed and styled locks in disarray. When Logan entered the break room, he found Foster applying lipstick in the dingy mirror above the utility sink. From the smirk she directed at him, Logan had no doubt she’d offered herself up to Mr. Slick Suit like a vagina vending machine.

  Sighing, Caleb leaned forward, resting his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “I talked myself down from a six in the shower.”

  Logan wrapped his arms around Caleb. A six was high, but not the crippling panic of a ten. “How about now?”

  “I was really low after meditation, maybe a two….” He trailed off and Logan told himself to be patient. Running his hands over Caleb’s back, he could feel the muscles twitch and tense.

  “Seeing you makes what we’re planning to do more real… so I’m at a three.” The strain in his voice meant it was likely closer to a four, but Logan didn’t contradict him. He knew Caleb felt guilty when something Logan said or did triggered anxiety. He wanted the day to go well. They had been slowly increasing the time away from the apartment, but this wasn’t a test and he refused to let Caleb tear himself apart if it didn’t work out.

  “Would you dump me if I relapsed and got drunk?”

  “Of course, not!” Caleb said, leaning backward.

  Feeling his chest ease from a fear he hadn’t had the courage to acknowledge, Logan leaned forward in the seat, swallowing against a suddenly dry throat.

  Caleb brought their foreheads together for a moment before kissing him gently. “But I’d want you to get back on the wagon and try again. I wouldn’t accept you just giving up.”

  “So stop being so damn hard on yourself,” Logan said, his voice hoarse. “If it doesn’t work out today, there’ll be another nine innings to try again.”

  Logan had been saving for first and last month’s rent for somewhere nice enough for Caleb to visit when the thought of buying tickets came to him. Hope had power, and he’d give anything to give it to Caleb. It had come as a big surprise that the tickets were so expensive this time of year. It wasn’t like the Cubs were going to make it into post season, but he’d had to go to a ticket broker to ensure he got aisle seats in an area close to an exit. Money was tighter than he liked since he’d stopped letting Caleb pay him. “You mostly have your uncle to thank for today.” He gritted his teeth. He’d barely managed to cover half of the cost, and Klass had been the one to find the tickets online.

  “No,” Caleb said, brushing a hand across Logan’s cheek. “He might’ve helped, but the tickets were all you.” He kissed Logan sweetly. “Thank you.” He kissed him again, a little whisper of a kiss. “What should I do to thank you?” Rotating his hips, he ground his ass onto Logan’s lap.

  Logan knew what he wanted, but hesitated to ask. He didn’t want to make Caleb self-conscious or think he was obligated to comply. Caleb could be painfully shy at times and incredibly clueless about his own appeal. But ever since that first phone call when he’d listened to Caleb come, he’d yearned to see the show in person. Even knowing the call had led to Caleb’s panic attack hadn’t burned the desire from him.

  Caleb grinned as if he could see the dirty thoughts in Logan’s head. “Tell me.” Leaning forward, he nibbled on Logan’s earlobe. “Is it kinky?” He pulled back and stared at him appraisingly as if he could pry the fantasy from Logan’s head. “I have a very unsanitary one involving pancake batter and a frilly apron.”

  Even though it was likely his ass in that girly apron, Logan couldn’t keep from groaning. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  Wagging a finger at him, Caleb said, “I want to know what’s in your pervy head.”

  Logan gnawed on his lower lip. “We don’t have to do it just ’cause I suggest it.”

  Caleb grinned and they shared another kiss. “I know.”

  Feeling his cheeks flush, Logan said, “I want to… uh… watch you touch yourself.”

  Still smiling, Caleb leaned back so far that Logan had to scramble to grab his waist and prevent him from falling on to the coffee table. Arm stretched, Caleb opened the drawer on the coffee table and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. After placing the items on the couch, he stripped off his T-shirt. Logan noticed an angry red line surrounding Caleb’s neck like a collar, making him wonder how the man could stand his T-shirts being so suffocatingly tight. Wordlessly, Caleb unzipped Logan’s jeans.

  Bewildered, Logan took off his pullover and helped Caleb slide off the jeans. Maybe the request had freaked him out and he was pretending it hadn’t been made? Logan reached for the lube, but Caleb snatched it from his hand. “Hands at your sides and keep them there.” When Logan opened his mouth to protest, he said, “You said you wanted to watch not touch.”

  Logan groaned, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch. Laughing, Caleb stood long enough to get his sweatpants off before returning to Logan’s lap. They both groaned at the first touch of skin against skin. Caleb tore open the condom with his teeth. After only a few strokes, he’d hardened enough for Caleb to slide the condom onto his dick. Logan’s mouth watered as Caleb’s equally hard cock drew tantalizingly close as he rose up, his knees on either side of Logan’s thighs. Another squirt of lube and Caleb reached his long fingers to his entrance. Logan watched with fascination as Caleb began to stretch himself. Caleb held his cock to his stomach, giving a perfect view of him shoving and twisting his way inside his tight hole. Soon Caleb’s pale hips were thrusting down upon his own fingers, a few quiet moans escaping as he curled his touch and brushed deep inside. It took every bit of Logan’s will to keep from bucking his hips in the air as needy little sounds escaped Caleb’s lips.

  Caleb sighed heavily and pulled his fingers free, a hungry look in his eyes when he positioned himself over Logan’s throbbing cock. Logan concentrated on not coming like a teenager as Caleb slicked him up with lube. Without hesitation, Caleb shoved his way down in one hard motion.

  “Oh, fuck!” The sudden heat and tightness was almost more than he could take. When Logan could think again, he said, “You’re going to be sore.”

  Caleb smiled, bright and eager. Logan hadn’t thought his dick could get any harder, but he’d been seriously wrong. He sat transfixed as Caleb rubbed his hands across his pale skin, green
eyes closed and a deep blush upon his cheeks. He let his eyes follow that blush down to his long neck and over the smooth contours of his chest. A sprinkling of baby-fine blond hair trailed down over his flat stomach to his well-groomed, honey-colored pubes.

  “Do you think you can keep still?” Caleb asked, teasing innocence in his voice. He twitched the internal muscles of his passage, sending a bolt of pleasure down Logan’s length. Struggling to breathe, Logan could only mutely nod.

  Caleb’s eyes closed as he stroked himself, slow and lazy at first. Logan groaned and Caleb’s eyes fluttered open to lock with his. The flush on Caleb’s cheeks darkened. Logan felt his hands curl into fists at his sides as Caleb increased the pace, stroking his cock but somehow keeping his hips still. Caleb’s other hand slid up his chest and squeezed a rock-hard nipple, causing them both to hiss. Another twitch from that tight ass, and Logan nearly dislocated his hips to keep from thrusting.

  Logan knew the hitch in Caleb’s breath meant he was close, which was good because any longer and he’d never be able to walk again. A few more urgent pulls and Caleb came, crying Logan’s name as his eyes clenched closed and splattering his seed against his chest. God, he’s beautiful.

  After a deep breath that made Logan grit his teeth to keep from coming, Caleb said, “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll be squirming on the hard plastic seats at Wrigley, still able to feel you inside me.”

  Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He surged forward, ignoring Caleb’s yelp of surprise and the squish of sweaty flesh peeling off the leather couch. He pulled out long enough for Caleb to kneel on the couch cushions before shoving back inside. The next few minutes were a blur in Logan’s mind. He pounded into Caleb, the other man meeting him thrust for thrust, both filling the room with loud cries and deep moans as the couch squeaked in surrender.

  Logan plunged in again, two, three more thrusts, before he felt the tension reach its peak. He bucked into Caleb mindlessly, too focused on feeling his orgasm to control his movements. A distant part of his brain worried he might actually pass out from the pleasure. He wrapped both his hands around Caleb’s waist to keep himself upright until the last of the waves had abated; then all the strength ran out of him and he collapsed to his knees on the floor, panting and completely spent.