by Rachel Kane
Jace showed him how to start the stove, and they cooked soup in a companionable silence. Aside from the humiliation of getting caught playing with himself, Trent felt more peaceful as they ate than any time in the past day. There wasn’t any talking, but none of Jace’s hard stares either.
The problem was, once the embarrassment stopped being a distraction, the worry crept back in.
“You’ve done this before, right?” said Trent.
Jace looked down at his soup in confusion. “Done…what?”
“You were a bodyguard. You’ve done the witness protection thing before.”
“Oh. Yeah. Not my biggest number of clients by any means. But sure.”
“So…how did it go?”
“You’re asking if everyone survived and lived happily ever after.”
Trent nodded.
Jace looked off into the distance for a moment. “What you need to understand is that most of the witnesses I helped were guilty of something. They’d been caught embezzling, something like that, and wanted to bargain. They’d give evidence that someone else had committed a worse crime, to cut down their own sentence. Honestly, a lot of the guarding I did for them was to keep their own stupidity from getting them into worse trouble.
“I remember one guy, back in Tennessee, about five years ago. We’re holed up in a cheap motel for three days. That place got three channels on TV. I sat in a chair and watched this guy flip those channels over and over, smoking cigarette after cigarette until you could hardly see through the air, the smoke was so dense. All he wanted to talk about was how he could cheat the motel out of some money. How easy it would be to get behind the counter and run chargebacks on my credit card. How we ought to stiff the pizza guy using bad checks. Just that same thing, over and over. At first I found it annoying, but after a while I realized this guy had a problem. It was like an obsession with him. All he cared about was cheating people out of money. I realized then that I wasn’t so much keeping his bosses from coming after him, I was keeping him from getting arrested before time for him to testify.”
“You know I didn’t do anything criminal, right?”
Jace shrugged. “Even if you had, Harlan’s got me stuck with you. Moral of the story, never trust your sibs.”
“But I didn’t. I mean, I’m not perfect, but in this case, I was totally on the straight and narrow.”
“It’s okay. I believe you.”
That felt a little better, at least. But then, Jace hadn’t really answered the original question, had he?
Did he want the answer? Because what would he do if Jace sat back, sighed, and said half his clients were shot?
But the worry wasn't going to go away on its own.
“So everybody you watched over survived?”
Something about the silence that fell over them was more terrifying than anything else in this process had been. Jace's expression changed. He seemed to be looking somewhere far away, not in the cabin. Two small worry lines formed between his eyes.
“Oh my,” said Trent, his stomach sinking.
“No,” said Jace, waving away the concern. Suddenly he seemed more in command of himself. “You'll be fine.”
There was a tone of dismissal in his voice that let Trent know he needed to drop the subject, although now curiosity was overcoming the worry. Clearly something had happened, something bad, and it had left its mark on jace. Even though he had no right to ask about it, Trent found himself wanting to know. Wanting to ask.
He restrained himself. But it ate at him. It couldn't possibly be relevant to his own case. But what had happened? What failure had struck Jace so deeply, and what implications did it have for Trent?
He had to know. He had to figure out how to ask. He didn’t want to infuriate Jace. That wouldn’t accomplish anything. He couldn't needle and prod the bodyguard. They’d be back on the same bad terms as earlier, and Trent couldn’t stand that idea.
Evening came. The dishes were washed and put away. The sun was drifting down below the mountains; twilight came so much earlier here than at home. From the cot, Trent watched Jace light a couple of lanterns.
Jace glanced at him. “Fine.”
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at me for half an hour. You clearly have something to say. Say it.”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Then look at something else. Look at your phone. Look out the window.”
“On a scale of one to ten, where ten involves murderers pouring into the door coming for me right this second, how much danger am I in?”
“That’s what you were going to ask?”
Trent blinked. “Yeah. Why, what did you think I was going to say?”
“Nah, nevermind. Guess I can’t read you as well as I thought. You’re still worried?”
“You didn’t exactly answer when I asked about your success rate protecting people.”
“You’re asking an impossible question. And why does it matter? What would you do differently, if I told you that your risk was only at a one or two? What would you do if it was a nine or ten?”
“I don’t know. I’m just so scared.”
“Put yourself in my shoes. If I tell you there’s no risk, you’ll do something stupid like wandering around outside, getting lost, or shooting your mouth off in town. If I tell you there’s a ton of risk, then I’ve got to sit here and watch you freak out for the next day. Logically what I should do is tell you that the risk is a five. That way you’re on your toes, but you’re not giving up hope.”
“So I’m at a five? Is that your honest security assessment?”
“Shit, Trent, what do you want from me? We’re out in the woods, isolated, in a cabin that’s hard for people to find without a good map. That’s a plus. But we’ve got no phone, no way to get emergency help. That’s a minus. I’ve got a shotgun and an axe. Grumman’s men have guns too. But all they have to do is scare you into not testifying. It’s not like they have to kill you.”
Trent swallowed. Jace had uttered that last sentence so nonchalantly. “Killing is just one of their many options, you’re saying.”
“Right.”
“But it is one of their options.”
Jace sat down on the cot next to Trent. “This isn’t news to you. You know it’s a possibility.”
A shiver ran through Trent’s spine. “It’s like going to the doctor for a weird rash or something. Is he going to say it just needs hydrocortisone, or is he going to say it’s cancer?”
For some reason Jace had chosen to sit pretty close to him. Close enough that he could feel the heat of Jace’s skin. He could smell Jace’s scent, like pine sap and firewood and something darker, earthier, just underneath. The flickering lantern-light played off Jace’s features as the sunlight died, the shadows catching the definition in Jace’s arms.
Trent felt his cock stirring again. This was embarrassing. He shouldn’t feel this way about his bodyguard. It just complicated things. He had to sleep in the same room as him. It was just one more night, and then he could get through tomorrow and never see Jace again. He wondered why that thought wasn’t the relief it should have been.
He had never felt so unsafe, so unprotected. What a strange way to feel. He could imagine Jace fighting off intruders. In a purely physical sense, he was probably safer right now than he had ever been. But he felt so exposed. His hands trembled with the fear inside him. He couldn’t stand the fact that Jace was seeing him so afraid right now. So many emotions were mixed up in Trent’s head. He didn’t know what to do.
He put his hand on Jace’s knee.
10
Sometimes Jace pictured his mind as a big, ancient house, one with many stories, flights of stairs appearing at awkward points, spiraling upwards. And there were some rooms in that house that stayed locked. If you kept a memory locked down long enough, you could pretend it didn’t exist.
You could pretend you had never lost anyone at all.
He hadn’t responded when he saw Trent beati
ng off next to the tree by the spring. He’d been aware of it happening; he had heard Trent’s approach earlier. Turned away, he could hide his smile at Trent’s loud footsteps through the leaves. He’d been expecting conversation from him, but when there was nothing but silence, he realized he was being watched.
It never took him long to get cleaned up in the spring. But for some reason, he’d kept washing himself, twice as long as usual.
Why was that?
He’d heard the zip behind him. Heard the rustling, heard the rhythmic sounds Trent’s hand was making.
His own cock had responded.
It was at that point that his iron self-discipline came into play. He had cleared his mind of any thoughts of Trent. Allowed himself to hear only the splashing of the water. Ignored his own sudden physical need for release.
There were rules. You never sleep with a client. Never get emotionally involved. Everyone knew what happened if you let your guard down. Pain. Complication. And worse, you put your client in danger.
It didn’t matter that Trent was attractive. It didn’t matter that life was lonely on this mountain, lonely in a way Jace hadn’t realized would be so difficult. He wasn’t a monk. The hermit lifestyle had been just what he needed for so long…but only for so long. The newness had begun to wear off. He’d taken to spending more time in town, just to be around people.
The only thing that mattered was that he had a job to do. Keeping Trent safe. Not happy. Not comfortable, or secure-feeling. Just safe.
Emotions don’t matter.
Now Trent’s hand was on his knee. Inside Jace’s mind, iron doors were swinging shut. His entire body tensed like it was on alert, like an enemy was just outside the door, ready to leap in.
The hand was warm. He felt its warmth through the flannel of his pajama bottoms. He saw the way the fingers quivered.
Trent’s face was frozen by an act of will. Jace watched him try not to betray any facial expression at all. But Trent’s dark eyes were searching his. For what? Solace? Comfort? Knowledge that this would soon be over?
There were many types of fear. When men fear for their lives, some go crazy, a full fight reflex to destroy their enemies. Some seek oblivion, drowning themselves in booze and drugs and society, thinking the only way to get through their fear is to remove all thought entirely.
Some very few sought connection. Not like a drowning man clinging to a rope. Something more gentle and benign than that, but equally primal.
Jace touched Trent’s hand with his fingertips. There were things he could not do as a bodyguard. Things he must not do. Even though a battle raged inside him. This hand was so soft. He could trace the tendons on the back of Trent’s hand, all the way to the fingers. Like little mountain roads.
He could rationalize this. It’s because Trent is scared. I’m helping him. I’m giving him a distraction. Giving myself one too. This isn’t about feelings. It isn’t about need. It’s about just getting through this moment.
“I…I saw you,” confessed Trent. “Bathing in the pond by the spring.” He blushed over his throat and chest.
“I know. I saw you too.”
“You saw what I was doing? You’re not mad?”
Jace said, “The rules are different right now. You’re scared. Rightfully so. I’m not going to hold it against you.”
“When I saw you in the water, all I could think—”
It would be better without conversation. If there were no words, then Jace could keep reminding himself this had nothing to do with his emotions. It’d be just another service to offer a client.
Before Trent could say another word, Jace reached up and took Trent’s face in his hands. Their lips brushed together.
Trent was startled. “I don’t—”
“Don’t talk,” whispered Jace. Words would break it. Words would bring him back to earth where he knew this was a bad idea. His lips touched Trent’s again. Trent’s mouth was soft, and beside it, his cheek was dotted with stubble that played under Jace’s roving lips. He inhaled sharply as Jace moved to kiss his throat.
Trent’s pulse raced under Jace’s lips. His hands were searching Jace now, sliding around his torso, up under his shirt. Trent had polite, careful hands. They seemed to hesitate before each move.
If there was too much hesitation, Jace wasn’t going to be able to do this. His own hands moved to Trent’s new flannel shirt, and ripped it open. The buttons flew, one pinging against the window. He shoved Trent back, looking at his trim chest in the lamplight. He couldn’t look Trent in the eyes. Not right now. He leaned over him for another kiss, with his eyes closed. This time, he tasted Trent’s tongue, warm and sweet. His hand was between Trent’s legs, finding the hardness there, encouraging it with squeezes and small tugs. He’d already seen Trent’s cock in action once today. He needed to see it again.
“Can we…can we slow down?” asked Trent. His hand was against Jace’s chest, not pushing against him, not trying to stop him, but definitely applying some small amount of pressure at the same time his fingertips played across Jace’s nipple.
“God, I don’t want to,” said Jace. He removed Trent’s hand from his chest and began sucking on the fingertips. “Don’t make me slow down.”
Trent gasped, and writhed beneath him. “It’s just…”
No thinking. But that pang of guilt. Did he want to be the kind of guy who pushed Trent into this too quickly? Or worse, did he want to get all distant and petulant about it?
People were so complicated. He’d gotten so used to being alone.
Being alone was so bad for him.
His brow furrowed in confusion, and he sat back on the cot. But instead of talking, Trent pulled himself up, straddling Jace’s lap. Now it was Trent’s lips against Jace’s throat, and then his mouth moved down, tongue painting a cool stripe against Jace’s collarbone. It was slow. It was purposeful. It gave Jace’s mind something to focus on. The touch of tongue-tip against Jace’s nipple. He felt himself growing so hard, as Trent ground his pelvis into Jace’s lap.
Did Trent feel safe now? Were his fears fading away, as he became more aggressive? He pulled at Jace’s tank top, and together they got it off, exposing Jace’s chest, which Trent pressed hard against his own. It was like they were exchanging life-giving warmth. Something passing between them, skin to skin, now transmitted through Trent’s arms crossing over Jace’s shoulders, meeting behind Jace’s head, pulling him in closer. Another kiss. Another. The pressure of Trent’s thrusts against his clothed cock was becoming unbearable.
Trent’s pants opened easily, revealing a hearty bulge in his sky-blue boxer briefs. Jace rubbed his bulge, feeling his cock through the soft fabric.
He liked Trent’s energy, the way he fought to stay in control in Jace’s lap. But Jace was bigger, and wanted to be on top, so he pressed again, pushing Trent back onto the cot. This time the struggle was all in play, a sly grin from Trent letting him know there’d be no more requests to go slowly.
He yanked off Trent’s jeans, and tugged down the briefs, revealing Trent’s cock. It was hard and bouncing, a thin drop of precum at the tip, ready to fuck someone. Jace went to work with his mouth, licking and kissing the length of Trent’s shaft. He nibbled the skin where Trent’s cock ended and his balls began.
This is so wrong.
The thought stopped him. He tried to block it out. He sucked Trent’s cock-head into his mouth.
This is your client. This is going to end so badly. You can’t protect him if you get involved.
He sucked harder. Trent moaned beneath him. His hands got around Trent’s ass, pulling his groin up so Jace could get a better angle. Down his lips went, down until he reached the base of Trent’s cock.
What are you going to do if you fall for him, then he dies?
“Oh my god, shut up,” he whispered to himself around a mouthful of cock. It sounded like wordless grunting. The thickness of Trent’s cock in his mouth silenced him. It was so hot and salty. He could focus on that. Focus o
n the pleasure he got from sucking Trent off.
But Trent apparently had no intention of being the passive recipient of Jace’s attentions. He pushed Jace off, just long enough to reach down and shove Jace’s pajama bottoms down, working them over his hips, using hands and feet to slide them down Jace’s legs until they could be thrown on the floor. Then they were simply naked on the cot, their hot skin together. Jace returned to Trent’s cock, but now Trent was turned the other way, Jace’s cock dangling above his waiting mouth.
Trent lifted his head and tongued Jace’s cock.
Jace immediately felt like he was going to explode. He thrust his hips forward, downward, shoving his cock into Trent’s mouth. Trent greedily sucked hard on Jace, his fingers kneading Jace’s muscular ass, pulling him down further.
But Trent’s cock needed attention too. It was hard to suck on Trent at the same time Jace was fucking his mouth, but it was impossible to think while doing both, so Jace leapt upon the combination eagerly. He lapped at Trent, licked his little cock slit. Sucked him down. At this angle, Trent’s cock curved just right to go all the way into Jace’s mouth. With a few swallows, he was still further in. Jace continued to thrust his hips gently down, feeling Trent’s tongue and lips explore his cock.
Thinking about the way Trent had watched him bathe in the pond got him more excited. That sense of being watched, of being desired. It had been so long since he had felt that. He felt his balls tighten at the idea of what might have happened out there at the pond, if he’d just had the courage. Then suddenly he couldn’t hold back anymore. He groaned, his mouth still full of Trent’s cock, as his own cock shot a load of hot seed directly into Trent. Trent eagerly swallowed it, tugging down harder on Jace’s ass as spurt after spurt filled his mouth.
And it must have turned Trent on to be swallowing Jace’s come, because his own cock began shooting into Jace’s mouth. It was a surprise to Jace, he had been so wrapped up in his own orgasm, and he pulled off for a split second, just long enough for a jet of come to splash against his face, dripping down his cheek and chin, before he got his lips back around Trent and began sucking him dry.