Gabriel couldn’t hold back a small moan at that. He slipped his fingers into his shorts, adjusting his hips and leaning back into the cushions. “I’m going to make a mess,” he muttered.
Jack chuckled. “You have a washer in your apartment?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said. He laughed, “But no detergent yet.” He hesitated. “Jack, I…don’t know if I can talk through this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how…”
“I’ll do the talking this time,” Jack answered.
This time, Gabriel thought.
“When we do this for real, my tongue will be…otherwise occupied,” Jack added, and Gabriel felt himself twitch against his fingers. “Do you have any lube, Gabe?”
“Uh. No,” Gabriel answered, caught off guard by the question.
“A little spit’ll go a long way,” Jack said, and Gabriel could hear the amusement in his voice. “Get that hand nice and wet for me.”
“Jesus, I’m—” Gabriel stopped, swallowing as he drew his fingers from the front of his pants.
“Yes?”
Gabriel licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I won’t even need to touch myself if you keep talking like that,” he said, his voice gruff, and Jack laughed quietly.
“I’ve got all night,” Jack said. “If you finish early, we can start over. Make sure you get those fingers slippery, though, we don’t want any chafing.”
“Are you using…lube?” Gabriel asked. He was quite certain that Jack could hear him blushing, now.
“Just my mouth tonight,” Jack answered. “I feel what you feel.”
Gabriel couldn’t stop the shiver that passed through his body. Lifting his hips up, he shoved roughly at his jeans and underwear, pushing them down his thighs and over his knees before pulling his feet out and kicking the garments aside. He felt shockingly exposed, sitting in his living room, half-naked, fully-aroused, and he had to fight the impulse to check the door again.
“When you come to…dinner, maybe bring your…lubrication of choice,” Gabriel said. He couldn’t bring himself to say it any more explicitly.
“Hmm,” Jack answered in a low rumble. “We can cross that bridge when we get to it, honey,” he said, and Gabriel’s breath caught at the casual endearment. “Is that hand ready?”
Gabriel raised his palm to his mouth. He felt like an idiot, and more than a little embarrassed even though no one could see him—but he was also full of a hot, throbbing anticipation as he spat into his palm. “Yeah,” he said, again shifting his hips restlessly.
“I like this music, Gabe. Let’s start with a few slow strokes,” Jack said, and Gabriel took hold of himself with his slick palm. He closed his eyes again, letting out a breath. “They have to be slow,” Jack continued, and Gabriel could hear the strain in his voice. “Because I’m a lot closer than I thought I’d be…”
Gabriel felt a different kind of flush at that; the idea that Jack wanted him as badly as Gabriel wanted Jack was something that, if he was being honest with himself, Gabriel had given up hope of ever finding. He didn’t know if their relationship was headed anywhere. They might realize they had nothing in common other than a physical attraction, and it might end as soon as it had begun. But that wasn’t the point. Jack had shown Gabriel the possibility of a life for which he’d been too afraid to hope, and no matter what the future might bring, Gabriel would always be grateful to him for that.
In this moment, however, there was more than just possibility. There was the two of them, together in spite of the distance, and there was Jack’s low and breathy voice, and there was a hand that no longer felt like Gabriel’s own. In spite of his embarrassment, there was a freedom that Gabriel had never known. For the first time that he could remember, he was completely unhidden.
“Jack,” he said.
“I’m here,” came the response, deep and comforting. “Are you good with this?” he asked after a beat of silence.
“Yes,” Gabriel answered on a puff of air, closing his eyes.
“Good. You can feel how much I want you, right?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, and it was true. He could feel Jack’s desire around him like a hot embrace. A new song was beginning: Anouk’s “Lost,” and Gabriel could think of nothing more appropriate for the moment.
“Slide your fingers down underneath…” Jack’s voice faded off for a second; it might not be long before he was beyond words, but he rallied, and continued quietly: “You can feel how full I am…ready…”
Gabriel pressed his head and shoulders back into the sofa’s cushions, unable to keep a small moan from his lips as he fingered his own testicles. He followed Jack’s instructions without hesitation, giving himself over completely—every twitch of his wrist, every flick of his thumb, every squeeze of his fingers; his breaths were ragged in just a couple of minutes, his hips unsteady on the sofa as he worked himself exactly as Jack wanted.
Based on the strain in Jack’s voice, and the fading in and out of his words, Gabriel knew that the other man was as close as Gabriel was. Just the thought nearly pushed him over the edge, but he held on with a sheer force of willpower, stroking himself as instructed, waiting, waiting for permission.
“Gabe,” Jack gasped, and there it was.
Gabriel’s fist tightened, and his thighs flexed, pushing his hips up, and he couldn’t hold back his moan—closer to a whimper, maybe—as he came. He felt the hot splatter across his thigh, but he didn’t care about the mess. All he cared about was the sound of Jack—ragged breaths peppered with grunts—finishing himself off, and the uneven sigh that followed.
Gabriel sat, his body heavy on the sofa, his mind a jumble of semi-coherent fragments as his cooling semen trickled over his fist, his breaths gradually slowing.
“Christ,” Jack muttered.
“Yeah,” Gabriel answered. He could hear the tremor in his own voice. He was still holding himself in a loose fist, now trying to figure out the best way to avoid making the mess worse. He didn’t want to drip on the sofa. “I, uh…think a shower’s in order,” he said, grinning at the sound of Jack’s shaky laughter.
“I might need to change my sheets,” Jack said. “Hey, Gabe?”
“Hmm.”
“I guess we sorta broke in your new apartment.”
Gabriel laughed as he carefully shifted forward. “Yeah.”
“Am I still invited to dinner on Saturday?”
“Umm, yes,” Gabriel answered, and then they were both laughing.
***
Hey
Hi, Gabriel answered.
You feeling ok this morning?
Ok? Yeah. You?
No morning after regrets?
None here. Looking forward to dinner tomorrow night if you’re still coming?
I’m resisting the temptation of that double entendre
Who knew someone typing the word “entendre” in a text could be so hot?
Hahaha well just because I can spell it doesn’t mean I can say it. I know how to do a few other things in French, though ;)
I happen to speak fluent French, Gabriel answered. Maybe we can exchange a few lessons.
Oh God. Is it tomorrow night yet?
I’d invite you tonight but I have to work until after five and that wouldn’t give me enough time to cook, Gabriel said.
I can wait until tomorrow (barely) but also don’t feel like you have to go all out.
I like cooking and it’s been awhile.
Do you want me to bring anything?
Yes but I don’t want to type the words, Gabriel answered. And now I’m blushing again. Good lord. As for food or drink, no, I’ll have dinner covered. I have to go, can I call you later?
Sure. Have a good day.
Chapter Six
Jack froze, staring at the sheet of paper in his hand. His scalp was suddenly tingling, and a cold feeling—not quite dread, but some species of nervousness—was spreading outward from his stomach. Alex glanced back at him, noticing his hesitation, and did a double-take.
<
br /> “What?” the kid asked with a frown. “You okay?”
“Your teacher’s name is Santiago?” Jack asked.
His frown deepening in confusion, Alex said, “Yeah? Always has been?”
G. Santiago is what it said at the top of the form, but Jack suddenly knew without a doubt what the first name was. “You call him Mr. S—Even your dad called him Mr. S,” Jack said, and he hated the defensiveness in his own voice. It was not insignificant, the rush of guilt he was feeling—guilt sprung from the realization that he hadn’t recognized, in face or name, his son’s favorite teacher.
“What’s wrong with you?” Alex asked.
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head as he made an effort to compose himself. “Nothing, I’m sorry.” He put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and met his son’s eyes. Jack couldn’t tell Alex about his relationship with Gabriel, not without knowing if the teacher had come out to his students and coworkers. “I just…I’m sorry I’ve never come to these things before, Alex. There’s no excuse.”
“Jeez, Dad, calm down,” Alex said, patting him on the arm. “I know you were afraid kids would bug me about having two dads. Besides, you took me to, like, the zoo and stuff,” he added, grinning when Jack laughed.
Jack pulled Alex forward and kissed the boy’s forehead. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Alex said, shifting his feet and fidgeting.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Jack told him, glancing toward the door.
“Don’t look so scared,” Alex laughed. “He’s nice, you’ll like him. Dad liked him.”
Jack swallowed. “I know,” he answered. He didn’t have time to sort through what he was feeling, let alone attempt to make sense of the thoughts jumbled up inside his skull. He wished he had some way to warn Gabriel—send him a quick text, something like hey I’m Alex’s dad and we’re about to walk into your classroom, but there was no time.
Alex stepped into the room and walked toward the teacher’s desk without hesitation. Jack followed his son, feeling ill.
Gabriel looked up and, spotting Alex, smiled. His gaze slid past the boy to Jack; their eyes met, and Gabriel’s smile slipped. His forehead creased, and then—it happened quickly—realization dawned. Jack saw it happen, and he saw Gabriel quickly compose himself—quicker than Jack had, but he knew that Gabriel had far more experience in hiding his feelings.
The thought made Jack sad, and he wanted to comfort the other man in spite of his own discomfort. He offered a small smile that he hoped was more reassuring than it felt.
“Mr. S, this is my dad, my other dad,” Alex said, already taking a seat in one of the front desks. “Jack Windsor.”
Gabriel pushed himself to his feet as Jack stopped in front of his desk. For a few seconds they stared at each other, both unsure of how to proceed. Neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge they knew each other, without the other’s consent; neither wanted to be the first to pretend not to know the other, after the intimacy they’d shared.
Jack extended a hand. “Mr. Santiago,” he said quietly, holding Gabriel’s gaze.
“Mr.…Windsor,” Gabriel answered, taking the offered hand tentatively.
“Oh, yeah,” Alex said. “I have my other dad’s last name.”
Jack squeezed Gabriel’s hand and saw the other man swallow.
“Jeff—You’re Jeff’s husband,” Gabriel managed. His voice was small, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry.” He drew his hand back, but slowly.
Jack nodded in acknowledgement. He didn’t want to think of Jeff, not here, not now, not until he’d had time to process his feelings. He didn’t want to imagine Jeff sitting at a desk beside Alex, looking at Gabriel in half a dozen of these meetings. He didn’t want to see the grief and guilt in Gabriel’s face.
Jack turned and sat in the desk next to Alex’s. He watched Gabriel sink into his own chair. The teacher shuffled a few papers into a pile, picked up a pencil, cleared his throat, and finally looked up.
“Everything okay, Mr. S?” Alex asked, surprising Jack. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised—Alex was observant, and kindhearted, and he cared about his teacher.
Gabriel smiled at the boy. “Yes. Thank you, Alex,” he said. “Sorry, I’m just…” He cleared his throat again. “Right. Mr. Windsor, since this is our first time together…” He stumbled over his words for a moment, and Jack thought he could see a hint of color creeping up from the other man’s collar.
Jack knew what Gabriel meant to ask. He opened his mouth to answer the unspoken question, but Alex beat him to it.
“We talk about my homework all the time,” the boy said. “Remember when you asked Dad if he’d read The Odyssey and he said reading was Daddy Jack’s area?” he asked, pointing at Jack, seemingly unaware of the childhood nickname that had fallen from his tongue. Alex laughed. “Then he said math and science were Jack’s, too. You asked him what his department was, and he said talking to you.”
Gabriel also laughed, but it was tinged with sadness—as was Alex’s laughter—and Jack cast a quick look between them as they shared a bittersweet memory of which he wasn’t a part. It hurt, because he could imagine Jeff saying that, could imagine the three of them laughing together—Gabriel and Alex and Jeff—and in that moment, Jack missed Jeff with an ache that stole his breath.
“Yes,” Gabriel said. He smiled at Alex, a smile filled with empathy.
“You’d tell him how I was doing and then he’d tell Jack and…” Alex chewed his lip, looking over at his dad. Jack could see the tears shining in Alex’s eyes, and he reached out a hand, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “And you’d tell him if it was good or not,” Alex finished with a small, tremulous smile.
Jack’s own eyelashes were moist, but he smiled in return. “There was never any question that you were doing well,” he said quietly. “Anyway, you and I both know he was smarter than me, he just wanted me to feel useful,” he added, earning a laugh from Alex. Releasing the boy’s shoulder after another brief squeeze, Jack turned his attention to Gabriel. “But, yes, we talked about his schoolwork, and I think I’m fairly up to speed on what Alex has been studying so far this year. I’ve been working a lot of late nights and overtime, so I’m not always home when he does his homework…” He hesitated, trying to tamp down his guilt.
“So I leave my papers out when I go to bed and he checks them when he gets home,” Alex supplied. “Which means I usually have to do half of my math over again at breakfast,” he added, grinning and rolling his eyes.
Gabriel laughed. “Mrs. Fredericks swears you’re one of her best students,” he said.
Alex raised his eyebrows and pointed at Jack, and Gabriel laughed again, his gaze sliding to the other man.
“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his hands. “I don’t give him the answers, I just tell him when they’re wrong.”
“I wish all my students had such involved parents,” Gabriel said. He looked at his desk, tapping his pencil for a moment. Then his gaze rose to Jack’s. “As I’m sure Mr. McGinty—Jeff. As I’m sure Jeff told you, Alex has always been an exemplary student. We had some understandable difficulties to overcome at the end of last year, but so far this year he’s been doing very well in Spanish and English and, from what I hear, his other classes, and he’s on track to make a four-point. I’m also thrilled to have him participating in the Drama Club this year.”
Jack looked at Alex, who was clearly embarrassed—and pleased—by the praise.
“We don’t really have any areas that need improvement, to be honest. Whatever system you two have for homework seems to be working…Do you correct his writing assignments, as well?”
Jack smiled at Gabriel. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said. “I may have read The Odyssey, but if you asked me to write a paper on it, I’d ask for his help.” He hooked a thumb toward his son, and Alex and Gabriel both laughed.
“Yes, Alex is a gifted writer. I’m still working on convincing him of t
hat, though,” Gabriel added, shooting Alex a pointed look, and the boy laughed again. Gabriel hesitated before asking Jack, “Do you have any questions or…concerns to address with me?”
Their gazes locked and held. I have a lot of concerns, Jack thought. A lot more than I did before walking in here, but I can’t even begin to sort through them. He tore his eyes from Gabriel’s and looked at Alex.
“I’d like to talk to—uh—Mr. Santiago alone for a few minutes,” he said, and from the corner of his eye he saw Gabriel fidgeting with his pencil. “Can you wait outside for me?”
Alex narrowed one eye at him, and for a moment he looked just like his late father. “If you’re arranging to send me to some boarding school or something, I think I have a right to know,” he said.
Jack laughed. “Get out of here,” he said, making a shooing gesture with his hand.
“Fine,” Alex answered, pushing himself to his feet. “Don’t forget we have to go to the assembly.”
“I didn’t forget.”
Alex looked at Gabriel. “If he tries giving you his ‘I’m a big tough cop’ look, don’t let him scare you. He’s a total pushover.”
“Hey!” Jack exclaimed, swiping toward him as Alex, laughing, stepped out of reach.
Gabriel was grinning, but when Alex left the room and closed the door, the teacher’s smile faltered. He looked at Jack and swallowed, hard. He fidgeted with his pencil and shifted in his seat, chewing the inside of his lip. “Are you alright?” he asked.
In spite of himself, Jack laughed. “Am I alright…?” He sighed softly. “I honestly have no idea. I realized who you were about two seconds before I walked in here, and…” He shook his head. “Are you alright? I didn’t know if you’d want Alex to know we…knew each other.”
“Jack, I’m…sorry about Jeff. I’m really so, so sorry.”
Jack’s eyes were suddenly burning, but he nodded again. After several seconds of silence, he asked, “What do we do now?”
Rising From the Dust Page 11