by J. M. Colail
Jack waited contentedly as Roz delivered the first round of presents, starting with Flo, since she was the oldest. It was a big box, but mostly empty, he knew, since he’d wrapped it himself. He’d weighted it inside with newspapers and odds and ends—toothbrushes, socks, an umbrella—and wrapped about fifteen different boxes inside each other, just to keep her busy.
By the time Flo got down to the envelope he’d taped inside a Kleenex box, she was cursing him viciously, but not without a smile on her face. Finally, she opened it, and Jack held his breath. “Jack? What’s this?” She seemed genuinely touched, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn there were tears in her eyes.
“It’s a trip,” he said. “Two tickets out to the Cape. I know you haven’t been back in years, and I thought you might like to go—together.” He squirmed a little. He hadn’t anticipated having to justify his gift, especially not with an audience. “We can visit Uncle Pete and David. I know you haven’t seen him in years, and you must miss him. I… I want to visit Dad’s grave again, you know? I thought maybe at Easter time….”
That was as far as he got, because he had an armful of hugging mom. “Thank you,” she said fiercely, doing what had to be her utmost to squeeze the breath out of him. She pulled back, green eyes bright, and coughed a little as if to cover some strong emotion. “It’s wonderful. I can’t wait.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Jack smiled, touched and relieved. “My turn!”
Roz tossed a present at him. “This one’s from me,” she said. He caught it, wondering at its lightness, and shook the package. It rattled. Jack raised his eyebrows. At least if it was making that sort of noise it was probably something he could open in front of his mother. Warily, he slid his thumb under the tape at the corner and tore the paper open.
Jack blinked. What on Earth? There were about ten little envelopes, all taped together at the ends like a paper chain. Colors of various intensities offended his eyes. Daisies. Lupins. Roses? Who the hell started roses from seed, anyway? He looked up at Roz, confused.
She smiled at him sweetly, one hand folded over her belly. “Payback’s a bitch.”
Jack looked down at the packets in his hands and recalled vividly exactly what Roz had done with the flowers he’d bought her. God, he’d been such an ass. He hoped the worst of that was over. Laughing, he balled up the wrapping paper and sent it flying at her head. “Thanks, Roz. I guess I deserved that.”
Julian and Flo were shooting them both inquisitive looks, but Jack and Roz just smiled secretively across the room at each other. This would be their little secret, he understood. That was nice, that he could trust her not to tell Julian—or his mother—what a fuck-up he was.
“Yeah, you did, but you got over it.” Roz smiled at her brother. “Your turn, Beanstalk. Let’s have it.”
Julian looked at the label. Jack looked at the shape of the package. The label clearly read “Love, Mom,” in Flo’s spindly handwriting. Jack watched as Julian traced over the letters on the card, a faint, far-away smile on his face. He felt a sudden rush of affection that he wasn’t prepared for, and really appreciated for the first time how Julian was able to accept that people could care for him as their own. He was instantly likable, and people were drawn to him, wanted to protect him. Funny, because Julian was probably stronger than all of them. He flashed Flo a brief grin in thanks, then tore the paper from the package.
Jack leaned forward unconsciously, wondering what his mother could possibly have found in the space of the less than a week’s notice he’d given her that he was bringing a significant other, and one she hadn’t met at that. His stomach did a funny flip when he recognized the angular construction of a small photo collection, and he groaned. “Uh-oh.”
Flo’s smile was positively beatific, which did nothing to alleviate Jack’s sudden sense of foreboding.
Finally, Julian cracked the cover on the album, one corner of his mouth turning up in an absolutely (Jack hated himself a little for admitting this) adorable smile. God, Jack wanted to lick that dimple there on his cheek. What sort of a degenerate was he turning into, anyway? “Mom, what exactly did you give him?”
Neither Flo nor Julian deigned to answer, and when Jack looked beseechingly at Roz, she just scooted up onto her knees to look over Julian’s shoulder and started snickering.
Uh-oh. “Oh, Mom, you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” she said innocently.
Roz let out a peal of laughter as Julian turned the page and Jack’s curiosity got the better of him. He reached over and plucked the album from Julian’s too-slow hands, scowling. She had. The album was filled cover-to-cover with photographs of Jack in very compromising positions at various ages, ranging from the stereotypical naked-on-the-bear-skin-rug shot (he was four months old in that one) to the one she’d taken at his high school graduation. The gowns had been open at the back and as a grad prank, he and his closest friends had worn nothing beneath them.
Jack shot a betrayed look at his mother, who just smiled at Roz indulgently. “Give him the other one,” she instructed.
Roz did. Julian tore into this package gleefully, then promptly flushed the color of an overripe tomato as he unwrapped a small digital camera. Laughing helplessly, he held it up for Roz to see.
“An entire album full of blackmail,” Jack complained, though he was pretty sure everyone could tell he was just as amused as anyone.
“And the potential for so much more,” Julian grinned, holding up the camera. “Thanks, Flo. It’s perfect.”
Jack was aware of a few seconds of misty silence before his mother made a flip you’re-welcome comment, and then Roz was busting in. “My turn!” she said gleefully, and reached for the biggest present in the pile.
Flo looked at Jack pointedly. Jack shrugged and looked at Julian. Julian’s lips twitched in that knowing way he had and he spread his hands in a what-can-I-do gesture. Jack got it. Roz might be having a kid, but right now, it wasn’t going to stop her from being one.
The cycle of gift-opening more or less decayed after that, with Roz tossing out presents seemingly at random as soon as she noticed someone with their hands empty. Jack couldn’t help but notice she’d set two gifts aside. One of them, he knew, was his gift to Julian. He assumed the other was Julian’s gift to him. He didn’t know if Roz was keeping them separate because she thought they were naughty, because she wanted to make a spectacle of it, or because she wanted to give them some privacy, and he didn’t get the chance to ask her. By the time the rest of the presents were open and the wrapping paper had been more or less consolidated into a recycling bin, Roz was yawning and claiming it was bedtime, and Flo was backing her wholeheartedly. “We ladies need our beauty rest,” she said with a completely manipulative smile. She kissed Jack’s forehead—he felt about three years old—then did the same to Julian, ruffling his hair almost the way Jack liked to. They both reveled in his flushed cheeks. “Goodnight.”
That left the two of them sitting together, across from each other on the thickly carpeted floor by the tree, the two gifts left sitting between them. Some serious butterflies were dancing an energetic tango in Jack’s stomach, but he did his best to ignore them. This was important to him, an actual honest-to-God relationship. The mere fact that he wasn’t running screaming right now was testament to the crazy things Julian did to his mind without even exerting any obvious effort. Biting the bullet, Jack reached out and picked up the squarish package, pressing it into Julian’s hands. “You first.”
There wasn’t a card. Jack hadn’t found one with the right sentiment. Apparently there wasn’t much demand for a greeting card that said I’m crazy about you; don’t push me. Julian definitely noticed—Jack noticed him noticing—but he didn’t comment.
Julian unwrapped the iPod with a strange expression on his face, not necessarily ungrateful or surprised, just perplexed. He’d been wanting one and Jack knew it; they’d planned to go MP3 player shopping together. But he was still…. Well, Jack had to a
dmit it wasn’t the most romantic of gifts.
Not on the outside.
“Open it and turn it on,” he said before Julian could comment, curling his fingers toward his palms to keep from fidgeting. “That’s the important part.”
It had taken a lot of doing on Roz’s part. Jack hadn’t had a clue how to use the software he needed, and most of it wouldn’t run on his computer anyway. Roz had generously lent him the use of her Mac and, after a quick tutorial, he’d been off to the races.
Speaking of racing, his heart was pounding like he had just run a marathon. There were things Jack couldn’t just come out and say, couldn’t even think, not even to himself. The depth of emotion he felt for Julian was frankly terrifying, and he avoided classifying it like the plague because it made him feel utterly helpless. But there were things he wouldn’t say and couldn’t think that could come out of him in other ways, so he’d spent a good week in front of a borrowed laptop with some rented sound equipment and a guitar, all of which had led to the most agonizing two minutes of his life.
Julian found the tiny earbuds and inserted them, thankfully foregoing the lecture about how bad this type of headphone was for your hearing. He switched the iPod on and checked out the playlist Jack had loaded.
He’d loaded up the thing with as many of Julian’s Saturday-night-at-Brenda’s favorites, everything from “A Really Stupid Kind of Love” to Gordon Lightfoot and back again. Julian would claim he was too young to appreciate Gordon Lightfoot, but he was full of shit and they both knew it. There were also a couple of songs he’d never quite dared to perform, at least not for the past several months, afraid that baring his soul in public like that would make this whatever-it-was between them not only patently obvious but explicit and more real than he was prepared to own to just yet.
He was owning to it now, even if it was in private. One step at a time.
Julian’s eyes stayed fixed to the song list for a long time before he scrolled down and selected one, as far from randomly as was humanly possible. Then he looked up at Jack, pulling the iPod in close to his body. “Jack.” His voice was so quiet, Jack thought for a moment he was hearing things. “It’s perfect,” Julian said, deadly serious. “I love it.”
Jack heard what he wasn’t saying and smiled. “Good.” Okay. That was enough heavy-handed emotional stuff for one night. “Now, gimme my present.”
Shyly, Julian handed it over, their fingers brushing. Jack traced the seams of the wrapping paper for a moment before slipping his thumb under the tape and tearing it off.
The small, black box was heavy, about eight inches long and three deep. Jack lifted the lid carefully and turned back the soft blue cloth inside.
“I was talking to Roy,” Julian said carefully as Jack lifted the delicate silver harmonica, “last Saturday when you were playing. I noticed you played that one song in a key that was awkward for you, and I asked him why.” Jack raised the instrument to his lips and blew a few notes. “He said you used to have a harmonica in this key but you lost it and wouldn’t buy another one. He didn’t know why.”
Roy. Of course. “The one I lost belonged to my dad before he died,” Jack said softly, playing for a few minutes more before he could speak again. “It was a family heirloom, I guess you could say. He used to sit and play that thing for hours. Once it was gone, I couldn’t bring myself to get another one.” Reluctantly, Jack set the harmonica down and looked up at Julian. “This is the same brand, the same model even. It’s identical. How did you find it?”
He was sure Julian was blushing, but it was impossible to verify in the darkness. “I, um, I e-mailed your mom and she sent me a picture.” He fidgeted with the wrapping paper at his feet. “I spent a few hours on eBay,” he admitted. “And then I spent a few more scouring pawn shops and music stores.”
Touched, Jack ran his fingers over the surface of the harmonica one more time before sliding the lid back on and setting the box aside. “C’mere,” he commanded, uncrossing his legs and beckoning with both arms.
Julian scooted forward and planted his knees between Jack’s. Impatient, Jack grabbed a handful of his sweater and pulled him off-balance, leaving him with a happy lapful of squirmy Julian. Instead of leaning forward to meet his eager lips, Jack allowed himself to fall the rest of the way back, Julian landing squarely on his chest.
“Hi,” he said with a slight smile.
Julian bit his lower lip. “Hi yourself,” he said back, and then the time for words was definitely over. Jack wiggled a little to get comfortable and opened his mouth, welcoming Julian’s tongue as it slipped inside, brushing over his teeth for a second before tangling enthusiastically with Jack’s.
Sighing happily, Jack planted his hands firmly on Julian’s fantastic ass, then slipped them up and under the hem of his shirt, stroking slowly over the smooth skin. Julian practically purred, rubbing his hardening cock firmly over Jack’s own growing bulge, the pressure and friction spiking the desire low in his belly. “I fucking love your ass,” Jack murmured happily as Julian sank his teeth into the flesh at his collarbone, following up with a particularly vicious thrust. “The rest of you ain’t bad either.”
Snorting, Julian managed to work a hand in between their bodies to hike Jack’s shirt up. “Yeah, I know. Why aren’t we naked yet?”
“Because we’re in my mom’s living room?” Jack suggested, working his fingers around to undo the clasp of Julian’s jeans anyway. “I feel like a naughty teenager.”
“I have that effect on people,” Julian said smugly, wiggling as Jack worked his pants down.
“If you’re being naughty with anyone else I think it’s only fair I get to watch,” Jack grumbled around a mouthful of tongue. “And beat him up after,” he added after a moment of consideration.
“Yes to the first, no to the second,” Julian chirped. He managed somehow to support himself on one arm and work the button fly on Jack’s jeans open, freeing his aching cock. “Although I seriously doubt you’d be willing to just stand by and watch.”
Yeah, that would be a bit of a sticking point. In fact, just the thought of Julian with another man made him twitch—which didn’t mean he couldn’t watch Julian by himself. A little shiver went through him at the idea. “Speaking of watching.” Jack pushed up and rolled a little, sending Julian sprawling onto the floor, hooking his fingers into the younger man’s belt loops and jerking down sharply. “You feel up to a show?”
Julian’s eyes went liquid dark, hands resting on his belly. “Depends. You going to reciprocate?”
Hell, yeah, he was! Jack rolled up onto his knees and shoved his pants down past his thighs, taking his cock into his hand. “That answer your question?”
Julian groaned, hiking up his shirt and sliding his open palm down his belly, fingers curling loosely around his erection, stroking up and down slowly, his eyes never leaving Jack’s.
“You’re so hot,” Jack complained, mirroring Julian’s actions. “I want you all the time.”
“I’m not seeing a problem here,” Julian smirked, spreading his knees.
Jack’s view improved immeasurably. He rubbed his thumb through the bead of moisture at the tip of his cock, drawing it down the length.
Julian swallowed audibly, and Jack reached out with his left hand to tweak a nipple. “Not a problem in sight,” Jack agreed. Watching Julian stroke his dick was unbelievably arousing.
“Can you—God, come closer.”
Jack did so, collapsing next to him in a heap. He slid his lips over Julian’s, moaning a little as their hands and cocks connected. “Like this?” he murmured, writhing furiously against Julian’s body.
“Shit,” Julian groaned. Jack could smell the pre-come scenting the air, taste the thin sheen of sweat on Julian’s upper lip. “Jack. I want you.”
Jack could get on board with that. He wrapped Julian’s dick in his fingers, keeping up the rhythm Julian had so relentlessly set for himself. “Here?” he asked, licking at Julian’s mouth distractedly. Not that th
e idea of screwing Julian into the New Year right here on the floor of his mother’s living room didn’t appeal. He just wanted to make sure it was okay with all parties involved.
Julian wriggled enthusiastically beside him, eventually pulling a couple of single-serving lube packets from the pocket of his discarded jeans. “Here,” he confirmed a little breathlessly as Jack circled his thumb over the head of Julian’s prick. “It’s not polite to keep a guy waiting.”
“Not all that polite to fuck you on the floor, either,” Jack pointed out, reaching as far as he could to snag a throw pillow from the couch.
“That’s never stopped you before!”
It wasn’t going to stop him now, either. “Lift,” Jack instructed firmly. He was pretty sure the last time they’d done this on the floor he’d almost done permanent damage. Julian obliged and he slid the pillow under his hips.
“You’re too far away,” Julian protested. Agreeing, Jack leaned forward for another bruising kiss, leaning on his left hand while he worked the little plastic twist off of a garishly green packet.
“Sorry,” he said, not particularly apologetically, as Julian nipped at his lower lip. He was pretty sure this working one-handed thing was going to make a mess but they were both too impatient to care at the moment.
Julian’s hands smoothed over his back and shoulders as he managed to slick his fingers. Jack felt his breath hitch when he circled Julian’s hole lazily. He might be impatient, but he wasn’t careless. He pressed his index finger forward, gut clenching at the silky heat.
The muscles under the skin of Julian’s stomach flexed as he exhaled slowly, lifting his pelvis encouragingly. Jack curled upward, rubbing in slow circles until Julian was panting and squirming. A second later Jack sank his teeth into Julian’s hip bone and slid a second digit in alongside the first, scissoring his fingers gently.