Shift’s End

by A. R. Barley

  “Shit.” Jack yanked away too fast. His body banged awkwardly as he fell off the bed. For a moment everything was completely quiet. Then he groaned. He levered himself back up into a standing position. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I liked it.” Diesel was seeing stars and it wasn’t a result of Jack’s kisses. He sat up straight, forcing air into his lungs until the effect dissipated. “It’s my back—”

  “You should have gone to a hospital.” Jack disappeared out the bedroom door. Thirty seconds later he was back with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of paper towels. “Turn around.”

  “I didn’t come here so you could play nurse.”

  “You came here so we could play doctor, and we’re going to. Afterward.” Jack’s gaze narrowed. The playful lover was gone. The hard-assed fire captain was back, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  That didn’t mean Diesel had to make it easy for him. “I should probably take my shirt off first.” He kicked off his shoes and stood up slowly, his body swaying in time to a song that neither of them could hear. Something with a strong sensual beat: “Pony” by Ginuwine had always been Chase’s favorite when Diesel gave him an impromptu strip tease.

  There had to be a better choice.

  Katy Perry’s “Roar.” The empowering lyrics inspired him to wiggle his hips as he stripped his T-shirt off over his head and reached down to palm his erection.

  Thud. The hydrogen peroxide landed on the ground, liquid sloshing around inside the plastic bottle. Jack was perfectly still, his mouth was half open. His eyes were hooded and dark with want. His eyes were vacant and then he seemed to come back to himself, bending down to pick up the antiseptic.

  Diesel grinned. “Nice to know I made an impression.”

  Jack snorted before gesturing him around, and this time Diesel obeyed immediately, holding his breath as he felt the same strong fingers that had been so harsh a few minutes earlier skim over his wound.

  A breath of hot air ghosted across the back of his neck. “You know you’re beautiful.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  “My ex used to say I was beautiful.”

  “But he didn’t mean it?” Jack’s clever fingers were working quickly now, cleaning out his wound with dabs and flicks that should have hurt but didn’t.

  “That wasn’t the problem.” Diesel settled back into Jack’s gentle touches. It really shouldn’t have been possible for a man to be so soft and so hard at the same time. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the gentle sensation. “The first time he said it? Fuck, I think that’s the first time a man ever showed any interest in me. There aren’t a lot of gay firefighters in New Jersey.”

  “Probably more than you think.”

  “Probably.” New York had certainly surprised the hell out of him. “After a while though it was just something he said any time I asked a question that was too difficult or whenever we had a fight. ‘Don’t worry about it, beautiful.’ I thought it meant he loved me, but—”

  “That’s not love.”

  Diesel rolled his eyes, glad that Jack wouldn’t be able to see his expression. “Where were you last year? It took me six months of therapy to figure that out.”

  “Therapy can be good.”

  “You’ve been to therapy?” Of course he had. Jack was smart and capable, strong in a way Diesel couldn’t help but envy. At least one of his ex-wives must have wanted to fight for their relationship. “Chase always had to have the nicest things, the fanciest champagne, the best watch. When he called me beautiful, it was like he was describing his truck. ‘Powerful engine, tricky ignition.’”

  “I don’t seem to have any trouble getting your engine going.” Jack snorted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” The hydrogen peroxide hit the ground again, but this time it was on purpose. The paper towels followed them a moment later, rolling across the floor and coming to a stop somewhere underneath the bed.

  “Anyone who thinks you’re something pretty to be kept on a shelf needs his head examined.” Each word was a new breath on his back. “You’re smart and funny.” Long fingers tugged experimentally at Diesel’s jeans before slipping under his waistband to cup his ass. “These muscles aren’t just for show. You’re strong.”

  Jack’s free hand came around from behind to undo Diesel’s waistband and shove his jeans down over hard thighs. With his pants off, Diesel was being directed back down onto the bed. He held his breath, waiting for his frayed nerves to snap.

  It didn’t happen.

  There was something about Jack’s firm touch, like he believed every single word he’d just said. Forget treating Diesel like a porcelain doll. He was treating him like a man who could take everything he dished out.

  Diesel rolled over onto his back, ignoring a fresh flare of pain, and then he was staring up into bright blue eyes. Salt and pepper hair was sticking up in every direction. Heat stained his cheeks a deep red and turned his lips a bright berry color. He smelled like the cheap shampoo they used at the fire station, but under that his scent was all sex and man.

  Two pairs of lips came together fast, Jack’s overpowering technique sending Diesel’s mind spiraling but he wasn’t about to let himself be overtaken so easily a third time. He was strong and capable of meeting Jack inch for inch. Then their bodies slid against each other and he felt every single inch.

  Damn. He was afraid to look down. Jack was long where it counted. Jack’s hips bucked up to meet him. No more begging. Forget about saying please. He clutched at Jack with everything he had.

  Jack’s arm stretched out. From where he’d positioned them on the middle of the bed he could just barely reach the bookshelf. A dozen paperbacks fell off and hit the ground. What the hell? He retrieved a bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms. They both had dust on them.

  “Been a while?” Diesel asked.

  “In this house? Never. I bought it after my last divorce.” The bottle snicked open. The scent of strawberries filled the air, replacing the smell of hydrogen peroxide and male sweat. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here.”

  “Uh-huh, and how long do condoms last?”

  “I—” Jack stilled. He coughed. “I don’t know. Maybe I should raid Eric’s room, see what he’s got hidden under his mattress.” He made a face. “Never mind. Too weird. We don’t have to use them. I mean, at this point I’d be happy with just about anything.”

  “Fuck that.” Diesel grabbed the box, turning it around until he found an expiration date on the side of the lid. They still had a couple of months to go. He let out a sigh of relief. “We’re golden.”

  “Good.” Jack’s hands never stopped moving until Diesel was sure he’d skimmed every inch of bare flesh. Almost every inch. His cock was hard and throbbing, leaking. It twitched desperately for attention, but Jack refused to touch him there. “I’ve been thinking about being inside you for a week.”

  Had it only been a week? It felt like an eternity, but Diesel must have been counting the hours—no, the minutes—since they met. A broad hand palmed his ass, left, right, and then a march toward the middle that had him gasping desperately for air.

  A firm tap on either knee directed Diesel to spread his legs and then slick fingers were pressing deep into him, prepping him with a single-minded determination that matched his kisses. Damn.

  Diesel’s heart was racing so damn fast it felt like it might run straight out of his chest. Long capable fingers touched something deep inside him, and electricity crackled across his skin. Damn. He gasped wantonly, struggling to keep himself from coming. “More.” Forget please and thank you. Forget polite requests. He needed more than just a finger to fill him. “Now.” He tried to make the word an order, but the whimper at the end softened it to a request. “I need you now.”

  Jack slid a second finger deep inside him, ma
intaining a steady rhythm. “You need to learn patience.”

  “You need to hurry the fuck up before I come and ruin the fun.”

  “You’re young. You’ll recover.” Some of what he said must have gotten through though because Jack pulled his hands away. “Time to move, sweetheart.” Muscles strained as Jack rolled them over. Now, the bossy captain was flat on his back and Diesel was straddling him.

  That was unexpected.

  Diesel frowned. He wanted to feel Jack’s weight on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. He swung his weight to the side, trying to send them sprawling back down. Nothing. Rock, meet hard place. Jack didn’t budge an inch.

  “Your back’s going to be fine, but why risk it?” And then Jack was bending at the waist, sitting up just enough to suck at Diesel’s biceps in a way that would most definitely leave a mark. His hands were busy moving between them but not doing much of anything to add to the lightning balls of sensation careening through Diesel’s body. Holy hell. Was he going to draw this out forever?

  Thankfully not.

  Foil tore and Diesel pushed up on his hips, giving Jack just enough space between them to reach down and roll the condom into place. Then Jack’s sticky hands made their way across Diesel’s thighs to grip his hips, directing him downward. Hell. His breath caught in his throat as the blunt end of Jack’s cock breached him. Maybe that hand job would have been better after all. How long had it been? But then he let out a low breath, focused on relaxing, and let gravity do the rest of the work.

  “Oh, damn.” He couldn’t tell who was crying out now. He was too busy following the steady, silent directions of Jack’s hands.

  Up and down.

  The muscles in his thighs tensed as he lifted himself.

  Up and—

  Jack thrust up into him and then the rhythm was gone, along with whatever self-control either of them had left. Now, it was a wild fight to the finish as their bodies moved in a raucous pattern of fits and starts.

  There. Jack’s hips tilted just right and it was all so close. “I’ve got you.” The stuttered words were repeated over again with the rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” And then, finally, those long fingers wrapped tight around Diesel’s erection. The sensation was coming from both sides now, and Diesel couldn’t stop himself from coming if he wanted to.

  One twist.

  Two.

  Sandpaper calluses scraped against the tender skin coating his hard erection and explosions. Fireworks or warning shots? He couldn’t tell. All he could do was luxuriate in the heat and flame raining down across his broad shoulders.

  “I’ve got you.” Jack’s nails pierced his hips and held him tight as he thrust wildly upward. And then he was coming too, calling Diesel’s name.

  When it was all over, Diesel rolled over to sprawl across the bed. Jack stood up just long enough to get rid of the used condom. The last few inches of daylight were still streaming through the bedroom window when he pulled the comforter over the two of them and then sweet, merciful sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  How long had it been since Jack took a nap in the middle of the afternoon? It was disorienting. He woke up fully rested, but instead of greeting the morning sun the only lights outside his window came from the street lamps in front of his house. It could be eight o’clock at night or three in the morning. His stomach growled hungrily. Whatever time it was, he needed to get up and find some food.

  “Come on.” He reached out to grab Diesel and—

  Nothing. He couldn’t even feel a warm space where the other man had slept beside him. The only sign that he wasn’t alone in the bed was the blue canvas tennis shoe in the corner of the room.

  Okay, so Diesel hadn’t gone home.

  That was a good thing.

  Maybe Jack could still convince him to stick around for another round of the mattress mambo. Then he’d see about making sure their encounter wasn’t a one-time occurrence.

  The way Diesel came apart in his arms?

  He could get used to that fast.

  He tugged on plaid flannel pajama bottoms and checked his phone. No messages and no missed phone calls, but it was approaching ten thirty at night. He headed out into the main body of the house to track down his wayward lover. Diesel couldn’t have gotten that far. Not without his shoes.

  The first sign that something had gone horribly wrong was the pile of pizza boxes on the coffee table. They hadn’t been there when they came in. The cans of seltzer water were also a new and annoying addition. Jack had a countertop seltzer maker. It was more environmentally friendly, and he didn’t have to worry about taking bags full of cans to the curb every day.

  The only person he knew who still bought carbonated water by the case was seated on his couch, squeezed between Eric and Diesel.

  Mona’s arms were crossed. She was wearing khaki slacks and a peach cardigan that had fit her better five years earlier. Her bottom lip was stuck so far out it could be used as a runway.

  “You keep making that face and it’s going to stick that way,” Jack said.

  Mona humphed.

  Eric snickered.

  Diesel’s smile was soft and shy. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, a pair of stiff dark jeans and a combed cotton T-shirt that didn’t quite stretch to fit his mammoth biceps. The shirt’s vibrant blue color made his eyes flash sapphire instead of their usual ocean blue. His hands never stopped moving on the video game controller. “You want winner?”

  “Don’t let him play,” Eric warned Diesel. “He’s so old, he thinks Zorg is cutting edge.”

  “Funny.” Jack rolled his eyes, even though it was just one more reminder of Diesel’s age. He might play the occasional game, but he couldn’t get his fingers to move with the same kind of ease and determination. The divide between them wasn’t just a few years. It was generational.

  With Diesel it wasn’t just the age difference either. Jack was his boss. The balance of power between them was completely uneven. Jack gave orders and Diesel was supposed to obey. That was the way it worked. Darkness gnawed at him. Was that why Diesel had come back to Staten Island with him? Because he didn’t think he had a choice? Except, he’d been the one to make the first move back in the office and he hadn’t left while Jack was asleep.

  Instead, he’d made himself at home, battling animated cartoon characters. Jack couldn’t think of anything more domestic. He forced his unease down.

  “If I knew he could play, I would have stopped to talk with you guys the other day,” Eric said. “Gotten some pointers.”

  “Let you in on my super-secret strategy?” Diesel shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  Jack hadn’t known he was tense, but that didn’t stop his shoulders from relaxing ever so slightly. He went back to his bedroom to put on a T-shirt, made a small detour to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He really wasn’t awake for a four-way conversation that included his teenager, his ex-wife, and his...lover? Underling?

  The hall floorboards creaked under his feet when he walked back out, but no one paid him much attention. The same game was playing across the television screen and the two competitors were looking intense. Eric’s brow was furrowed. When he made a mistake, he swore under his breath. When he got too excited, he jostled his mother and practically leaped off of the battered couch.

  Diesel’s fingers were flying like a pro, but in contrast to Eric, his body was completely relaxed. His smile was genuine and when his avatar ended up flat on his ass he didn’t curse, he laughed. “I ordered us some pizza. I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got a veggie lovers and a sausage and pepper.”

  “Uh-huh.” Two different pizza boxes crowded the coffee table, one from Marco’s at the end of the street and the other from Antonio’s two blocks away. Marco’s made a decent pizza. The sauce was slightly s
weet to Jack’s way of thinking, but it was where he ordered from at least seventy percent of the time. Antonio’s blew it out of the water, but the wait was twice as long and they charged a delivery fee on anything less than six pizzas. “Where did you order from?”

  “He got the good stuff,” Eric said. “Mom got pepperoni.”

  Mona shook her head. “Your new boyfriend got scammed.”

  Diesel’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “I don’t know the pizza places around here. I went on Yelp. Antonio’s had five stars and like a billion reviews.”

  “You paid a delivery fee. That means you got scammed.” Mona patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re still young enough to learn. Unlike some people—”

  “Did someone invite you over? I can’t remember.” The age difference was obvious enough, even when Diesel wasn’t sitting two seats down from Jack’s son. The last thing he needed was for Mona to bring it up again and again and again.

  “Eric saw the light on and wanted to come over.”

  “I was trying to get away from you,” Eric said just a little too loudly. All the adults turned to stare at him, even Diesel. The only sound in the entire house came from the television, where a giant pink balloon was slaughtering a cartoon elf.

  Eric swore. “Damn it.” He handed the video game controller to his mother, stole one of the Antonio’s boxes, and wandered away. A few seconds later the door to his room closed with an audible thunk.

  Mona sighed. “I was trying to get somewhere with him on the school stuff. Your lights were on. There was a delivery car in front of the house. I figured we could all talk it out.” She shoved over a little, putting a few inches more space between her and Diesel. Then she leaned forward to pick out her own avatar. “If I’d known you had company, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  That was as close to an apology as Jack was likely to get. He walked over to the couch and sat down at the end. Now Diesel was in the middle, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he edged ever so slightly closer until they were knee to knee and hip to hip. Heat rocketed back and forth between them.