by Jaime Samms
Eugene was not about to ask Cullen to spend yet more money on him. “I’m good,” he assured him. “Just have to grab my phone and wallet.” He dashed inside without giving Cullen a chance to respond.
When he returned, Cullen had started his truck and pulled it up closer to the trailer. Eugene hopped inside and settled back for the ride. He was a little surprised to see how many people had lights festooning handrails and eaves already. Christmas was sneaking up on him all too quickly, and he had so much to do before it arrived.
PAUL WAS all smiles to their faces and curious looks every time Cullen turned his back. Eugene could feel him not asking, but there was no way he was volunteering anything when he didn’t quite know himself what to call any of it.
“The insulation looks good,” Eugene noted, chucking Tim, the kid who’d done the bulk of the dusty, sweaty work, on the shoulder. He peered into the back of the cube van Paul had purchased years ago to deliver wool down south. He’d estimated he needed about three-quarters of the van filled with the fluffy mixture of cellulose dust, borax, and aluminium sulphate to complete his job. Tim was working on the last fourth now. He’d decided to grind up all the paper and cardboard they had collected, and once Eugene had done his house, he’d donate the rest to Habitat.
“We’ve tested it,” Paul assured him. “It’s as fireproof as the internet said it would be.”
“I’ll still have to get it inspected before I can use it.” Eugene wasn’t looking forwards to that bill, but there were just some costs all the ingenuity, scavenging, patience, and hard work in the world couldn’t cut. And there was no guarantee that he’d get a sympathetic inspector either. If he got some old-school asshole who didn’t believe in carbon footprints or DIY innovation, he’d be screwed.
Something of his worry must have shown on his face, because Cullen laid a hand on his back and ran it in a soothing circle. “Don’t worry,” he said in a low tone. “I’ve seen this stuff in action. You’ll get the go-ahead.”
Eugene wished he could be so confident. But until he had the signed slip of paper approving his decision, he was going to hold his breath. He had to. He couldn’t afford—literally—to get ahead of himself.
“Hey.” Paul punched his shoulder. “Deana’s got a stew on. You hungry?”
“I—” Eugene glanced at Cullen.
“I got this covered,” Cullen said, draping his arm over Eugene’s shoulders. “We have a plan.”
Paul grinned. “Oh?” He flashed a look at Eugene that Eugene ignored.
“How much longer, do you figure?” Eugene turned his back on Paul’s twinkling amusement to address Tim.
“End of the week?” Tim lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Sooner if you need it.”
Eugene contemplated, glanced around them at the empty barn and the truck. He wasn’t at all sure a week would be enough for him to get the house dried in, but if Paul could leave the truck in the barn, everything would remain dry enough he could afford to take the time he needed.
“Definitely not sooner,” Eugene said at last. He turned to Paul. “That okay?”
Paul’s shrug wasn’t as easy as he probably wanted it to appear.
“If the truck’s weatherproof—”
“Euggy.” Paul punched his shoulder. “Stop. We’ll make it work.” He smiled. “I got your back, bro. Swear.”
Eugene’s face heated at the nickname only Paul ever used. He shot a glance at Cullen, who grinned back, the expression nothing but assurance to Eugene that he would remember the endearment.
“I owe you,” Eugene said to Paul, half glaring, half grateful.
“That is the idea.” He winked. “But listen. If y’all are done with me, D’s gonna have my ass if I don’t get in there.”
“You like it when she has—”
“Shut it, twerp.”
Eugene stuck out his tongue. It had always bugged him when Steve had called him that, but for some reason, when Paul did, he felt the affection rather than any judgement. He might be older than Paul, but by comparison, he was the twerp, barely reaching his younger brother’s shoulder.
“It was nice to meet you.” Paul held out a hand to Cullen.
Cullen took it and shook. “Likewise.” He smiled, and the expression reached his eyes. “We’ll take you up on that stew another time.”
“Invitation is always open,” Paul agreed. “Take it easy, bro. Don’t kill yourself.”
Eugene waved him off. “You know me.”
“That’s the point, asshole.” And then he was out the door and off towards the brightly, colourfully lit house at a jog.
“He’s nice,” Cullen said.
“He’s a great boss,” Tim put in. “And he’s right.” Tim fixed Eugene with a look. “Don’t get hurt. If you need help, call me.”
“Like I’m going to ask you to give up any more of your weekends than you already do working here.”
“You didn’t ask,” Tim said quietly. “I offered.”
A light went on. “It was you?”
Tim looked confused. “What was me?”
“The wall. And the nails. You did that? How?”
“What wall?” Tim’s confusion was obviously genuine. “Nails?”
“Someone’s been coming by the site when I’m not there. Leaving supplies and shit. They lifted the front wall while I was out yesterday. It wasn’t you?”
Tim shook his head.
“Paul?”
“He hasn’t been off the farm in two weeks, man. He’s been busy as shit.” His frown deepened and he turned to Cullen. “Take care of this one, yeah? He’s not right.” He twirled his finger at the side of his head and rolled his eyes, then looked back to Eugene. “I think you might be losing it, dude.”
“I am not! I swear—”
“Just make sure,” Tim said to Cullen. “He’s a workaholic and does things on his own that should take three people.”
“I’ve noticed,” Cullen growled.
“Don’t you have algebra homework or something, kid?” Eugene gave him a mock glare, which only got a grin in response.
“You know it, old man.” He waved to them and headed out of the barn.
“They’re looking out for you.” Cullen’s tone warmed Eugene down to his toes, but he wasn’t about to admit the admonishments from Paul and Tim meant anything.
“They’re old ladies.”
“Come on.” Cullen gripped him lightly by the elbow. “I’m starved. It’s eatin’ time.”
TURNED OUT Cullen was a very good cook. The homemade pizza they made from crust Cullen had previously frozen, with sauce he had canned from his own planter-garden tomatoes, was delicious. Creating the meal together was a ton of fun, and Eugene found himself relaxing as people’s Christmas lights flicked on along the street below.
Cullen’s apartment was a basic white box, decently decorated, but it only very mildly hinted at the man’s personality. He certainly didn’t strike Eugene as the high-rise sort of guy, so the place—on the tenth floor of one of the few buildings in town that even had that many floors—was a surprise.
“At least it’s festive,” Eugene noted, spinning one of the many glittered-up plastic snowflakes hanging in the main window. White lights circled the window and set the sparkles on the ornaments shimmering brightly.
“I have to admit, I’m not as enterprising as you,” Cullen confessed. “I’ve been saving up for a real place, but I’ve not found anything I like well enough to shell out. It seems pointless to put a lot into this place if I’m not staying. Which, five years ago, made sense. Now? I’m starting to rethink that.”
“You could build.”
“I’ve got the skills,” Cullen admitted, no hint of self-deprecation. “But I’m like that seamstress who can sew anything with a pattern but can’t manage to sew her way out of a paper bag without it. Give me a set of plans, and I’m your man. Ask me to make it up as I go along?” He shook his head. “You amaze me, what you’re building with basically no guide whatsoever.�
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“I just….” Eugene grimaced. “I need a place to live, right? I mean, other than the trailer. Paul needs his barn, and I need my space, and Steve took—” He gulped. Well. He’d already confessed everything about Steve, hadn’t he? How stupid he’d been to trust that blood was thicker than judgement.
“Hey.” Cullen moved from the end of the couch where they had retired after the meal. He scooted until he was right next to Eugene, one knee pushing into Eugene’s thigh. “It wasn’t wrong of you to think you could count on him. What happened is about him, not you.”
“Well, except that he ruined my life while he was being all about him.”
“Did he?” Cullen fixed him with a steady look.
“I lost everything.”
“Working with a man who has no respect for you?”
“Well.” Much as Cullen had no idea what he was talking about, he wasn’t wrong. Steve hadn’t respected Eugene’s opinions. Paul had always told Eugene to find something else, but Eugene believed Steve would come around once he saw Eugene could hold his own as a partner and not just a labourer.
Only Steve hadn’t ever really come around. He’d never put Eugene in charge of his own team, never trusted him to accept a job without corroboration, never really given him any kind of autonomy even after Eugene had injected his life savings into Steve’s failing business. Then he’d up and left and taken Eugene’s life and money with him.
“Think of it this way. If he hadn’t screwed you over, would you ever have gone out on your own? Bought that sliver of land? Figured out how to build on it for practically nothing? Or was that to prove to him that you could?” He cupped Eugene’s face with a gentle palm. “Maybe to prove to yourself that you can?”
“Of course I can.” Of course, some mysterious someone was also helping him, but that wasn’t Cullen’s point, was it?
“I’ve seen what you can do.” Cullen’s gaze softened. “And I respect it. Most people wouldn’t have the first clue how to go about making a house out of basically scraps and scrappiness.”
“But you get it,” Eugene realized. Paul did, and so did Tim, but very few others had embraced the idea, let alone imagined it could be anything other than a shack on the side of a hill.
“I get it.” Cullen leaned in, and it was enough. Eugene narrowed the space and initiated the kiss this time. He tasted the pizza and beer they’d had for dinner, and Cullen’s sweet/spicy elixir he’d never encountered anyplace else. It made him moan, and he closed his eyes against the embarrassment that it took so little to rev him up.
“That’s fucking sexy,” Cullen muttered against his lips. “So hot, those little noises you make.” He gripped the back of Eugene’s neck and clung, kissing until breathing didn’t matter anymore.
When they finally came up for air, Eugene was already leaning back hard against the arm of the couch, one leg stretched along the length, one draped over Cullen’s lap.
“This isn’t the most comfortable place I can imagine fucking you,” Cullen grated. He palmed the side of Eugene’s face, running a thumb over his lips.
“That’s….” Eugene got distracted by tumbling into Cullen’s gaze, then licking at the tip of his thumb, which didn’t quite come close enough he could suck it into his mouth.
“It’s what?” Cullen moved his hand.
Eugene nipped, catching the pad between his teeth, unable to look away or speak. He pulled in a breath, flaring his nostrils and inhaling the heated scent of both of their want.
“You need to be naked,” Cullen decided, and Eugene didn’t see any point arguing. He transferred his nibbling to his own lower lip when Cullen undid Eugene’s belt and opened his jeans. The hands that dug under his clothing were the hands of a man who worked for a living. Rough palms scratched at tender skin, and Cullen’s fingers were so strong, taking what he wanted—what Eugene was more than willing to give. Wide, flat pads, thickly callused and deliciously abrasive, curled around Eugene’s hip to find the tiny space between his ass and the couch’s arm.
“God, yes,” he whispered, hoisting his hips to offer Cullen more room.
“Jeans off,” Cullen demanded, pushing down, forcing cotton and denim past Eugene’s hips. He didn’t get far with Eugene’s legs spread as they were, but it was enough to get at his cock.
“Oh.” Eugene’s breath bled out on a heavy groan. “Fu-uck.”
“We’ll get there,” Cullen promised. Why could the man still speak when Eugene was already reduced to sound and heat?
Cullen cupped his chin and lifted, bringing Eugene’s attention back to Cullen’s lips. He was saying… something. But those calluses on Eugene’s cock. Fucking hell. Perfect rough over silk. His brain had whited out.
“What?” He shivered, forcing himself to remember English.
Cullen grinned, his mouth a sassy, crooked line. “I asked if you were up for this.”
Was it too slutty to roll onto his knees and present his ass? Eugene forced himself still except for a nod. “I am up. I’m up.” He jolted his hips up, forcing his length through Cullen’s fist. “See?”
Cullen laughed. “It wasn’t my initial intention to jump you.”
“Well. Plans change, right?” Eugene panted a bit, then found a grin and some words tucked into a corner of his brain. “You saw my blueprints. I’m good at rolling with it.” He rolled his hips as proof, squirming to get Cullen back into motion.
“Yeah, I guess you are.” Cullen backed off just enough to move Eugene’s legs together.
“Shit.” Eugene winced before he could hide it. “Careful. Back.” He eased himself into a more comfortable position that didn’t pressure the old injury and let Cullen peel his jeans and briefs away.
“Sorry.”
“It’s cool.” Eugene smiled. “If I don’t twist hard or fast, it’s fine.” He grinned. “Now where were we?” He took the opening the pause afforded to open Cullen’s fly, and in another moment, they were both naked from the waist down with Eugene sprawled on top of Cullen, cocks and mouths aligned.
“Thank God for big hands,” Eugene whispered as Cullen wrapped them both in one huge fist. He rocked his hips to augment Cullen’s slow strokes as well as encourage the enticing feel of calluses on his ass as Cullen caressed him. “Oh. That’s—”
He didn’t get further than that because Cullen closed his mouth over Eugene’s and pushed his tongue into him. After a moment Cullen let go of their cocks to rake fingers into Eugene’s hair, and the pinpricks across his scalp sent sparks flying down Eugene’s spine. He sped the rock of his hips, gliding their cocks together, then grinding his into the hollow of Cullen’s hip when Cullen released them. He couldn’t hold back the greedy moans as he humped.
His skin was on fire everywhere Cullen touched. He writhed, trying for more friction, needing more. Cullen released his ass and Eugene whimpered into their kiss, but in the next breath, Cullen was pulling away, turning his head, and telling him to suck.
Eugene did, drawing Cullen’s first two fingers into his mouth and slathering them up. He was about to move to do the same to Cullen’s cock, but then the fingers pulled away and that hand found his ass again, slipping over the soft globe to slide into his crack.
“Jesus,” Eugene whispered, searching for Cullen’s lips once more. “Oh my… fuck.” As Cullen found his hole, he moaned and hitched his hips back, eagerly pushing into the touch.
“Greedy,” Cullen observed, sliding his forefinger over the pucker, pressing and teasing without actually entering.
“Do it,” Eugene begged. “Just—”
Once more, Cullen cut him off with a kiss that seared his brain and left him mindlessly seeking more of every little sensation. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, what to ask for. Then Cullen was pushing into him, tongue and finger, and Eugene let out a shout of satisfaction right into Cullen’s mouth.
The kiss got sloppy after that. Eugene couldn’t concentrate enough to do it right. He barely noticed when their mouths slid apart unti
l Cullen hiked him up, applied lips and teeth to his nipples, and encouraged him when he reached down to stroke himself.
“That’s it. Perfect. Fuck. So perfect.” Cullen speared him with another finger and pushed deep, crooking just right to hit his gland. Eugene collapsed against him, losing his rhythm, unable to do anything but mindlessly rub his cock along Cullen’s body. The friction, alternating between the smooth, hard surface of Cullen’s erection and the rasping hair of his belly, was maddening and perfect.
One peg to his sweet spot, and Eugene didn’t even have words to warn Cullen. He came, hard and satisfying, moaning like a fool into the crook of Cullen’s neck as he lost control over his body and his vocal cords.
Cullen’s free hand slipped around the back of his neck, he pulled his fingers out, dragged Eugene tight against him, and a groan ground up his throat. Holding tight to Eugene’s ass and nape, he shuddered and tensed. Heat spurted between them, and Cullen’s cock throbbed next to Eugene’s. Their slick releases mingled, matting hair to skin and making the slow, irregular slide of bodies messy and delicious.
“Jesus,” Cullen whispered, voice a hot wind over Eugene’s nape and a hotter brand in his mind.
“Mm.” Eugene propped himself up enough to find Cullen’s mouth and peck kisses over his lips. “Wrong carpenter.” He grinned, wide and lazy. “But that was something else for a frot.” He nipped at Cullen’s plump lower lip. “Nice work.”
“Stay here tonight.” It was half command, half question, and Cullen didn’t manage to hide the wince that crossed his face the instant it was out of his mouth. Almost like he hadn’t meant to say it. Before he could take it back or reword it, Eugene placed a finger over his lips.
“Are you asking? Or telling?” He was curious, but more intrigued by the butterflies backflipping in his gut.
Cullen’s gaze held steady. His dark eyes, a deep brown like the earth Eugene loved to sink his hands into, held his complete focus, as though Cullen could see into him if he were patient and remained still enough. Eugene held his breath.