Shift’s End

by A. R. Barley

  Nothing serious. Either one of them could call it off at any time. He was going to call it off...in the morning.

  Jack’s fingers tangled in his shirt. “Where are you hurt?”

  Diesel didn’t want to lie and say he was fine, not on their last night together. Instead, he tugged his shirt up a few inches to show the ragged edge of his wound. It could be worse. They’d given him some stitches at the hospital before the police scooped him up, and somewhere along the line he’d stopped bleeding.

  Callused fingers scraped against his side before Jack pulled his hand back. “Tomorrow we can both drag ass over to the hospital and turn ourselves in for examination.”

  Interborough travel was expensive. By the time the cab pulled to a stop in front of Jack’s front door the meter was astronomical. Jack tipped the driver over fifty percent without saying a word.

  Together, they stumbled up the cement walkway. It took Jack two different tries to get his keys out of his back pocket. When he finally opened the door, they both stumbled inside. Jack made it to the couch first. He plumped the cushions and settled Diesel down into place. “I don’t think either of us should be drinking, but—damn—I could use a beer right about now.”

  Diesel shrugged. He needed to rinse his mouth out a few times before he had anything stronger than water. “You got any food?”

  “You don’t want me to cook.” Jack chuckled. “Then we could add food poisoning to our troubles.” He sighed. “What about popcorn?”

  “Air-popped?”

  “Not unless that means it comes out of a bag. The kid down the street is in the scouts, he sells me a twenty pack every year. If there’s a worldwide shortage, I’ve got the secret stash in my pantry.”

  “Popcorn’s good.” Diesel kept himself rigid and upright, determined not to fall asleep.

  Jack walked into the kitchen. There was a thump of cabinets opening and then the rattle of pipes. Pop. Pop. Pop. Water was being poured into glasses. Pop-pop. Pop-pop. The buttery scent of seasoned kernels being exploded filled the small house. Poppity-pop-pop. Ding!

  When he came back in he was holding a greasy bag full of popcorn and a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. “Thanks.” Diesel swallowed hard. “It smells good.”

  “You can have the first bite.” Jack handed over the bag.

  It was hot and sticky. The buttery corn was freaking delicious. It had never been one of Diesel’s favorite foods, but now it tasted like pure sunlight and salty, fatty goodness. It’d keep him upright.

  Jack fumbled with the bottle of medication. “Shit.” He flinched like he’d been hit. Weird. Diesel sat up a little straighter. Had he missed something? His eyelids were pulling downward. Maybe he’d fallen asleep for a few seconds without noticing? But then Jack tried to open the bottle again and the lines deepened on his face.

  The fingertips on his right hand were white. The cuff of his shirt was unbuttoned. Black plastic was wrapped tight around his wrist. How come Diesel hadn’t noticed that before?

  “You broke your arm?”

  “Yeah, and—” Jack grunted. “Probably.”

  Perfect. Just freaking perfect. Diesel grabbed the bottle and opened it with a flourish. He spilled small orange pills out into his hand. “How many do you want?”

  “They were giving me eight hundreds at the hospital.”

  Diesel did the math and handed over four pills. He dumped the same number out into his hand. They downed them together.

  Jack leaned back against the pillows. “You know Troy swung off a ladder last year with a kid in his arm? He looked like freaking Tarzan. He was dragging his ass to work three days later.”

  “Nice to know there’s a superhero at the station. He can pick up the slack while we’re recovering.” Diesel stretched his legs out in front of him until they knocked into the coffee table. If he concentrated all he could smell was popcorn, not smoke or sweat or whatever chemicals had made the restaurant fire burn hot enough to take down a building. “How’d you know I was at the police station?”

  “Reese.” Jack said the name like that was supposed to mean something.

  “He’s the one who looks like Old Saint Nick?”

  “He’s the fire captain just north of us. The paper pushers sent him down to chew me out. He’s a hard-ass, but he does his homework. As soon as I said your name—” Jack swallowed. “I told him we were dating. He helped me find you.”

  It was better than Diesel deserved. He drew in a ragged breath. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Told Reese we were dating? Or come get you?”

  “Either one. Both.” This was it. The moment of truth. Would Jack throw him out on his ass? He placed his hands flat on his knees, pressing down hard. “You know why the police were holding me?”

  “I don’t need to know.”

  That was a load of bull. Diesel sighed. The ibuprofen was beginning to kick in. At least now he could think straight. “My ex never got physical with me, never hit me, never yelled. Our relationship was screwed up, but I might not have figured it out if he hadn’t been arrested.” That was the worst part. “He was a criminal, and I was completely oblivious.”

  “And? I’m pretty sure Mona shoplifts lemon drops at the candy place in Grand Central.” Jack was the only one who laughed.

  The popcorn bag slipped out of Diesel’s hand. The fake butter wasn’t enough to cover up the stench of smoke and blood. He just wanted to sleep, but first he needed to get the rest of it out. He needed Jack to understand why they couldn’t be together...why he wouldn’t be here in the morning. “You ever hear of Chase Phillips?”

  “No,” Jack said.

  Good. Air filled Diesel’s lungs. He swallowed hard.

  “Wait.” There was a long pause. “Wasn’t he that builder who bribed half the Jersey Shore?”

  “The New Jersey Devil might be a myth, but pay-to-play government isn’t.”

  Jack’s hand moved across to cover Diesel’s. His touch was warm. “His picture was all over the newspaper back when it happened. He was a good-looking son of a bitch. I can see why you were attracted to him. There were pictures of the fire too.”

  The fire that had happened because Chase’s building wasn’t up to code. The one that had taken out an entire city block and would have killed people except it had happened during the middle of the day. “It was a bad one. People got hurt. Two firefighters had to be rushed to the hospital. Maybe that’s why—” He swallowed, hard. He’d told the story a few times, to the cops who refused to investigate, the city prosecutor who didn’t push for more, and the advocate who’d gotten him into therapy. Peter had listened to him with a stony face. His therapist had offered him a box of tissues. “They came after me with a baseball bat.”

  “Who came after you?”

  “Guys from the department. Maybe guys who worked somewhere else in the city. Might have been guys I shared a locker room with. I couldn’t make out their faces.” Jack’s grip tightened. He ran his thumb against Diesel’s palm, but he didn’t say a word. “After they cleared me to return to duty, Peter wanted me to come back to the department. He swore he could keep me safe, but I figured a fresh start would make things easier.”

  And now that fresh start was being ripped away from him a second time.

  Along with a man who’d treated him better than Chase ever could.

  Diesel pulled his hand away from Jack. He’d never be able to leave if they were touching. “Maybe it’d be easier if I left now.”

  “Because your ex was an asshole or because your old department was full of rat bastards?” Jack didn’t wait for an answer. “How badly were you hurt?”

  “What’s hurt?” Diesel shrugged. “I can handle a few bruises. They fractured a rib, but that’s what ribs are for...protecting the good stuff.” His shoulders hunched forward. “I was coming out of a club. Fuck. I haven
’t been back to a club since.”

  “You went to Smoke & Bullets.”

  “Not that type of club.” He sighed. “Anyway, you asked me.”

  “Right, you’re not going anywhere except bed. Come on. Now.” Jack stood up and grabbed Diesel’s arm and refused to let him pull away. He tugged him into the bedroom.

  No flirty smiles or stripping to silent music. They just turned off the lights and crawled onto the mattress. The comforter was on the foot of the bed. He could reach down to pull it up.

  Or, he could just snuggle back against Jack’s broad chest and try to get some sleep.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there—minutes or hours—when the bedroom light flicked on. Eric blinked twice when he saw the pair of them curled up together. Then he grinned. “You two are freaking adorable.”

  “You’re my only son, and I love you,” Jack told Eric. Then he wrapped his arm tight around Diesel’s middle, like a kid with his favorite teddy bear. “Go away.”

  Maybe Diesel wouldn’t leave first thing in the morning.

  Maybe he could put it off a couple of days.

  At least until they went back to work.

  Maybe a little longer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Breakfast is ready in twenty minutes.” Eric barged into the bedroom without knocking. It was the second time he’d done that in twenty minutes. Jack didn’t remember dropping him on his head as an infant, but there’d been more than a few sleep-deprived nights when things had gotten hazy. Clearly, he’d suffered brain damage along the way. He grinned. “Mom dropped off the ingredients before she went to work, and she gave me permission to skip school.”

  “Because they don’t have anything left to teach you?”

  “Because she took one look at the pair of you and started muttering about hamburger meat. She left me her keys too. I’m your driver for the day.”

  “You can drive?” Diesel’s voice was muffled underneath the comforter. “I thought all New Yorkers took the subway.”

  “Not everyone.” Eric left the room as quickly as he’d come.

  “Think I can still return him for a quieter model?” Jack asked. “Maybe one who knows how to knock?”

  Diesel snorted. “You know you love your kid.”

  “I guess we can keep him.” That bit of business decided, Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed. If he concentrated on moving forward, he could almost ignore the pain radiating out from his arm. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off over his arm, banging his wrist awkwardly against the bedframe at the last instant.

  Shit.

  Light radiated out in front of his eyes. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the smartest move he could have made, especially not when he still had an undershirt to get off over his head. “Think I can get Eric to bring me some scissors. I’ll cut the damn T-shirt off.”

  “I’ve got you.” The comforter slipped to the floor and Diesel pushed himself into a sitting position. He snagged the hem of Jack’s shirt and tugged it up. White cotton covered Jack’s face for a long moment. When it finally disappeared they were less than three inches apart. Diesel had freckles. How had he never noticed that before? There were only two of them, one on the lobe of his ear and the other right underneath his right eye. Like his oversize ears, they served to undercut his symmetrical features, square jaw, and firm looks. In twenty years, when Diesel was Jack’s age, he’d still be boyishly handsome.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  Jack could fix that. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together just long enough to feel Diesel’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Take a shower with me?”

  Diesel shook his head. “I really should get going.”

  Not a damn chance. “You leave now and ferry security won’t let you through the gate.” They were both very dirty, covered in blood and sweat and smoke. Diesel still smelled like some horrible chemical reaction, and Jack wasn’t about to forget that any time soon. He was filing a report with the fire marshal and code enforcement. “I’ll wash your back.”

  Diesel sucked in a fresh burst of air. He flushed just dark enough for the freckle under his eye to disappear completely. Blushing as camouflage. “You need me to wash your back?”

  “I wouldn’t say no.” Jack stood up and opened the closet, pulling out two fresh sets of clothes. His pants were going to look like waders on Diesel’s long frame but that couldn’t be helped.

  Loud music was playing through the body of the house. Eric was playing internet radio off his laptop in the kitchen. Every few words his voice was audible, singing along with the music.

  Jack darted down the hall and into the bathroom. Diesel was only a step behind him. The two of them were a tight squeeze in the single-sink bathroom. When Diesel slammed the door shut, he burst out laughing.

  They stripped off their clothes and hopped in the shower. The house might be small and run-down, a post–World War II bungalow paid for in installments on the GI Bill, but one thing Jack had managed to fix since moving in was the hot water heater—no waiting around or shivering while the water gradually changed from cold to hot. As soon as he turned the dial to the left, warm water sprayed across their bodies. A few seconds later and dark liquid pooled at their feet before sluicing down the drain.

  “Bar soap or liquid?” Jack asked.

  “Bar first?” Diesel suggested. “We can do liquid afterward to clean up.”

  It was a solid order of operations.

  The soap was a cheap white bar from the grocery store down the street. Jack wet it down and soaped up as well as he could without getting the temporary cast on his arm too wet. It was easier to work on Diesel’s back. It wasn’t the first time he’d run his fingers over all those strong muscles. He’d pulled that small bit of debris from his skin after the car fire, they’d had sex more than once, but somehow showering together felt more intimate.

  Diesel’s body rippled under his fingers, but it wasn’t pain this time. It was anticipation. He felt it too.

  Good. Jack bent to kiss Diesel on the base of his neck. Then he handed over the soap and turned around. Diesel soaped his own chest and legs then something soft and slippery stroked across Jack’s back. Long fingers traced patterns in his skin. It wasn’t the water getting him all hot now. Blood rushed downward to fill Jack’s cock. His breath was coming faster.

  It would have been faster if they’d taken turns showering on their own, but it would have been a hell of a lot less fun.

  Diesel had to reach past Jack to put the soap down on the shower ledge. The move pressed their bodies together. They were so damn close he could feel Diesel’s heartbeat. It would have been impossible to miss the long erection digging into his back.

  Oh, God. He moaned and turned around. Maybe sex wasn’t completely off the table after all. As long as he didn’t jostle his arm and Diesel didn’t put any pressure on his back or his side, what could go wrong? “Don’t even think about it,” Diesel murmured. His teeth caught the bottom of Jack’s earlobe giving it a gentle tug that had Jack’s erection bobbing excitedly.

  He sucked in a breath. “Tease.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to shower together.” Diesel patted him on the ass. “Hand me the liquid soap?”

  “Bossy,” Jack huffed.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Nope.”

  “And if I wanted to do it the other way sometime? With you giving the orders?”

  “You don’t get enough of that at work?”

  “I dreamed about you, right?” Emotion made his voice fray. “Your voice all gravelly and rough like you get sometimes at the scene, barking out orders, only in my dreams you weren’t telling me where to point my hose.”

  Un-freaking-believable. Jack reached down and wrapped his hand around the base of his erection, squeezing tight in order to keep from coming at the im
age Diesel’s words was creating. He was so busy trying to stop himself from coming, he almost didn’t catch the last part of what he was saying. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some good ideas about what to do with your hose.”

  The liquid soap wasn’t his normal choice. He kept it stocked for Eric, and it smelled like the kind of aftershave that teen boys tended to gravitate toward no matter what. Pine needles and musk. He splashed some into his good hand and turned, but this time he wasn’t reaching for Diesel’s back.

  Blue eyes met his gaze. Electricity crackled between them. “We’re going to do that sometime.” His fingers slip-slid down Diesel’s chest to tangle in his pubic hair before wrapping around his cock. He started a sharp rhythm, his fingers catching on velvety skin. He hadn’t spent much time concentrating on Diesel’s cock before. Mistake. It deserved to be worshipped. If Jack got the chance, he’d make it his life’s ambition.

  “I’m going to spread you out on my bed and watch while I tell you exactly what to do. Maybe I’ll tell you to masturbate. Maybe I’ll have you use a toy. Either way, you’re not going to come until I’m buried inside you.”

  A strangled yelp escaped Diesel’s lips.

  “No,” Jack ordered. “No noise, remember?” And then he silenced him with a kiss.

  It was awkward working with one hand, but angling just right meant he could capture both of their cocks at the same time. Using shower gel as lube meant they were both groaning in a matter of moments.

  It wasn’t enough.

  It couldn’t be enough, not with one of his hands hanging limply at his side.

  “You like orders?” he asked. “Get us off.”

  Diesel freaking whimpered. His hands fumbled fast and furious to replace Jack’s and then it was all sensation in sharp waves that had Jack panting in desperation.

  Oh, God. Heat rolled through him in waves. It was just so damn much.

  Jack kissed Diesel again, but this time it wasn’t someone else he was trying to silence. He wanted to groan. He needed to scream. Instead, he licked his way deep into Diesel’s mouth, tasting every single inch of him.