by Andy Gallo
“Marcus.” His voice was louder than normal, not quite a shout. That got a small movement from his brother. “Marcus!”
“Huh?” Marcus opened his bleary eyes and looked at Jack. He groaned as Jack grabbed his ankles, poking out the end of the blanket, and dragged him half off the bed.
“Happy birthday, man. Wanna run?”
“Winner gets a gift?” Marcus scrambled up, scouring the room for where Jack might have stashed said gift.
Jack laughed and grabbed his toiletry gear. “Be ready in five, Reynolds.”
Marcus was ready in three, and his birthday spirit had him sprinting well before the turnaround point.
“You only won because I felt sorry for you,” Jack puffed out as they traipsed back inside the house. “Be a shame to lose out on your gift….”
“Yeah, right. Now gimme.”
Jack opened his desk drawer and drew out the messily wrapped gift. Marcus snatched it out of his hands, gleefully ripping into it. Hollering when he pulled out the collection of Plague Uprooted books.
Looking at it now had Jack reliving that first moment in the bookstore, glimpsing Tall Hot Guy for the first time….
He searched for his phone under the papers littering his desk—
Huh. No message. Jack frowned. Did that mean Ed didn’t want to go dancing or that he hadn’t had a chance to answer back yet? It was still early….
“Jack!”
He spun back to Marcus. “Huh, what?”
“Thanks.” Their chests slammed together with a hug, and Marcus thumped his back twice. “You’re the best roommate, the best friend, the best brother. I wanna keep all three.”
So did he.
Brittany was right; he needed to tell Marcus about Ed. About Harper and the bet.
Later, though. Before Friday night for sure. He just didn’t want to put a damper on Marcus’s birthday.
Studio 63 was pumping with sweaty bodies and music only Marcus liked. Inside, the place looked like a tropical island met a Goth storm.
Jack scored them a couple of beach chairs in the sandy area of the club, under a fake palm. No small feat on their popular Thursday night event. Lights blinked and music blared.
Brittany went the whole hog and—fake ID’ing it—bought a cocktail with a glow-in-the-dark umbrella. Marcus sat at the end of Jack’s beach chair, shouting along to the music.
Just as well Ed couldn’t make it. He might think twice about Jack, seeing this place. Besides they’d barely be able to talk, and…. Why was he fooling himself? It sucked Ed had an early morning job.
Sucked more that Jack was sure it was mostly an excuse. Studio 63 was off campus, but students sometimes swelled toward it.
He knocked his head against the back of the chair, hitting the metal frame a little too hard. Brittany raised a brow and him and leaned over. “What’s up?”
“Nothing—”
Marcus grabbed Jack’s ankle suddenly, and Jack jerked, tipping their cheap chair until they landed elbow deep in sand. “What the hell?”
Marcus scrambled to his knees, jerking a thumb toward the crowd. “What the hell, exactly. Why is Loch Ness here?”
Jack glimpsed the girl dancing a few feet from them in the crowd, hair swinging as she rocked. He shouted above a particularly loud screech of music, “Looks like she swims in the same lakes as you.”
Marcus stood, brushing the sand off his pants. He muttered something, then swiveled to Nessa in the crowd and tapped her shoulder.
Brittany lunged off her chair to eavesdrop. Jack laughed and then joined her, lying at the foot end of his chair to watch the charade.
Marcus pointed to her and then said something about it being his birthday. Whatever he’d been attempting backfired, because Nessa—slightly inebriated by the looks of it—wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let’s dance.”
Jack snickered, and Marcus must have heard it because he glared back at him, then ducked out of Nessa’s grip.
“Go on, dance.”
That got Jack the bird. Marcus made up an excuse of going to the men’s room and hurried off the dance floor.
Brittany crouched next to him in the sand. “I’m telling you, Jackson, there’s something up with those two. Their ‘I hate her/him’ routine is just cover.” Brittany slurped the last of her cocktail for emphasis.
“Ya think?” His sarcasm earned him a smack to the back of the head.
“Don’t be a jackass.”
“Wow, great comeback, Brit. Haven’t heard that one before.” This time he avoided the swat. “Of course it’s just a cover. This is classic Marcus. Whenever he sees a girl he likes and isn’t sure she likes him, he does whatever he can to piss her off.”
Brittany shook her head, rolling her eyes dramatically. “What a brilliant mating ritual.” She raised her voice as another song started. “No wonder women don’t understand men.”
“Hey, I didn’t say all men do, just Marc. If she’s pissed off at him, he won’t ask her out. That way he can’t get shot down.” He shrugged. “I never said it was rational, just what he does.”
“This should be fun to watch, then. That girl is a female version of Marcus. They’re meant for each other.” Brittany leaned in even closer. “And the way they wind each other up—you can cut the sexual tension with a knife. So entertaining. Wanna bet she makes the first real move?”
The smile left Jack’s face. “Um, no. I don’t need to lose any more bets, thank you.”
Brittany laughed. “Yeah, good point.”
“What’s so funny?”
Jack looked up to find Vanessa standing before them. “Hey, Nessa. Nothing much.”
Brittany clambered back to her beach chair. “Private Marcus joke.”
“Oh.” Nessa sat with her, glancing between them. “In that case spill!”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “He’s my brother.”
“Is he really your brother? I mean, you’re so different.”
Brittany came to his rescue. “Marcus’s parents adopted Jack.”
“So how come you’re super nice and he’s a big lug?”
“Lug? Nah. Marcus is one of the good guys.” He forced himself to smile. “He got me through… it when my parents died. Without him I wouldn’t have made it.”
She bit her bottom lip, a small frown cutting her forehead. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. She swiveled a bit as if to leave, then looked back at him. Curiosity and confusion glazed her eyes. “It’s just he’s always so snide and sarcastic around me.”
“That might go both ways, girl,” Brittany said.
Jack shrugged and pointed to said birthday boy threading his way through the crowd toward them. “Give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
And maybe… maybe the same could be said for Ed.
“I’ll hold my breath.”
Me too.
Chapter Fourteen
Ed snuck Jack into his house. They tiptoed through the dark hallway toward the basement. Warm light glowed at the bottom of the staircase, growing as they descended. The stairs creaked in the still of night. Jack cringed and looked over his shoulder. “I’m surprised you invited me here,” he whispered at Ed’s neck. “Bit risky, isn’t it?”
Ed paused, a slight stiffness to his shoulders. He turned slowly, uncertainty and frustration warring for dominance. His gaze skipped behind Jack and back again.
He pushed Jack up against the staircase paneling and covered his mouth, swallowing Jack’s surprised gasp. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”
Ed pressed tight against him, tongue probing into Jack’s mouth, needy and demanding. Shivers shot down Jack’s back, and his already hard cock strained against his jeans.
Jack grabbed Ed firmly at the waist, sinking one hand into the back of his hair as he flicked his tongue against Ed’s.
The groan Ed gave thrummed through his hard body, intensifying the shivers.
Jack pushed Ed against the opposite wall, using his han
d to cushion Ed’s head. “Not fair.”
“Not… fair?”
Jack sucked the soft, tender spot under his ear, cock greedily accepting Ed’s responding buck. He should be slowing this down. When Ed had called close to midnight, suggesting he come over, Jack had almost said no. He was frustrated at Ed’s no-show at Studio 63. Had promised himself if he came over, they’d talk first.
Jack growled into Ed’s mouth and tightened his hold in his hair. “I waited for you last night. I hoped you’d come.”
He pulled back, a draft cooling his lips.
Ed shut his eyes, his sigh pushing their bodies close. “I didn’t have time.”
Jack pinched Ed’s chin and waited until he’d opened his eyes. “The club is not ten minutes from here. You could’ve come by for a half hour. Hell, five minutes, even.”
“I’m sorry. I….” Ed looked away.
“I thought you wished you hadn’t hesitated meeting Marcus? That you’d meet any of my friends?”
Ed untangled himself from Jack and moved down the stairs. Jack followed, heel of his palm grazing his hard-on. He followed Ed’s lead and kicked off his shoes.
Ed fell back on the couch and stared at the black-and-white film playing on the TV, sound muted.
“I meant it,” Ed said. “I even got as close as driving there, but….” He slumped back into the cushions. “I thought I recognized a guy from work and freaked out.”
Jack let out a frustrated sigh and straddled him. He shuffled up Ed’s lap, their cocks still aroused from their moment on the stairs. “You could have said something. Rang at least.”
“I was pissed at myself.”
Ed’s frustration was evident in his frown and the downward curve of his lips. Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to the frown. “I was pissed too. But I can let it go,” Jack said. “This time.”
Jack thumbed Ed’s shirt buttons open. He tugged on the ends and freed them from his pants. Ed wore a white T-shirt underneath. Jack bunched up the material, sliding his hands over the hard plains of his stomach. Ed’s stomach flexed at the touch, and Jack rocked against him.
Ed clasped Jack’s hips and pushed them both forward to the edge of the couch. Ed’s kiss was firm and passionate. “I’ve every intention of making it up to you.”
“How?” Jack smirked into another kiss.
Ed shifted, and suddenly Jack’s back hit the couch, Ed between his legs, arms propped up either side of Jack’s head. His opened shirt tickled over Jack’s stomach where his T-shirt had ridden up.
In frenzied moves, Jack pulled Ed’s shirt off his shoulders, down to his elbows. His upper arms were more muscular than he’d thought, straining as they held his weight, and his broad shoulders blocked out the light above them.
Jack lifted his head and licked the firm muscle as Ed helped him shrug off the shirt. He bunched it into a pillow for Jack’s head.
“Holy shit, you’re so hot.” Jack tracked his hands over the fine hairs on Ed’s chest and tweaked his nipple. Ed groaned and rutted their groins together. He was all deft fingers as he slid callused digits up Jack’s sides and pulled up his T-shirt.
The chain holding his ring caught in the collar and Ed slowed down, carefully untangling the chain. Once free, the T-shirt hit the floor, and Ed gently set the ring against Jack’s chest.
A strange rush of tenderness stole over Jack. He liked the way every time Ed had seen his ring, he’d touched it hesitantly. Like he knew how important it was. How delicate he needed to be.
Jack blinked back the heat building behind his eyes. A soft kiss met his closed lashes, and Ed’s warm breath tickled over his cheek.
Jack’s heart drummed. He hadn’t told anyone the significance of the ring, other than Marcus of course. The urge to tell Ed tugged with unfamiliar insistence at his chest.
He bit down the feeling. This thing between him and Ed was far too fragile. “I don’t talk about it. I never have.”
Ed dragged his lips over Jack’s cheek to the corner of his mouth, then pulled back to meet his gaze. “One day there’ll be someone worth telling.”
Jack reached up and squeezed the back of Ed’s neck, voice raw as he begged Ed to change topic. “Kiss me.”
Ed complied, stretching his long lean frame over him, weight hard and warm. Mouth parting, Jack accepted greedy thrusts of Ed’s tongue. Fingers teased and stroked his chest, rubbing his nipples, then moved in tiny circles down his hips. Wet kisses paved down Jack’s neck, and Ed playfully dipped his fingers under the waist of his jeans.
Jack thrust his hips, growling for more friction as he kissed Ed’s smug grin.
“Like that, eh?” Ed’s voice was like the edge of a feather against his skin.
“Fuck yeah.”
Jack hugged their bodies together. Their tongues darted back and forth, and Jack wiggled his pelvis, rubbing himself over Ed’s hard cock. He slid his hands under Ed’s waistband, cupped his ass, and squeezed. “You feel so good.”
Ed moaned and ground his hips.
Jack squeezed again, and Ed shoved a hand between their bodies and found Jack’s top button. The top of his jeans came undone.
With an eager curse, Jack pulled down Ed’s zipper. He slid his hand under the cotton fabric, palmed the shaft of Ed’s cock, and thumbed the leaking head. Ed hissed against his throat, and Jack’s toes curled. He grabbed Ed’s hips, sliding his fingers through belt loops, and shoved his denim jeans down his thighs.
Need pulsed through Jack as Ed yanked at his pants. He lifted his butt off the couch and let Ed slide the jeans down. A quick tug at the hem of Ed’s boxers and Ed’s cock sprang free. Jack hitched his fingers between his underwear and ass and guided them down to his bunched jeans.
Ed’s eyes blazed, lips raw and swollen from their kisses. Jack lifted up and breathed heavily in Ed’s ear. “Make it up to me, Ed. Please.”
Ed pushed Jack down, pressing their cocks together. Their hard shafts rubbed and crossed. Primal lust jolted through him and he clutched Ed’s ass, arching against him.
“Fuck me,” Ed said, letting out a groan over Jack’s shoulder.
Hell yeah, he would.
Jack stretched his legs, toes pushing against the tops of Ed’s feet.
Ed grabbed something from under the couch. Jack heard a small click but was too busy tonguing Ed’s ear to pay attention. Then Ed wrapped warm, wet fingers around both their cocks and Jack jerked into the lubed shell of Ed’s hand. His eyes rolled back as sensation slammed through him, driving him to undulate his hips faster. Ed met his pace, thrusting a half second after Jack so their tips met on an up to his down stroke.
The ache in his balls was the most intense Jack had ever experienced, and he grunted as he massaged Ed’s ass. The friction tore at his control, and he writhed under Ed. “So close,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna come really soon.”
“Me too.” Ed jerked their cocks faster.
Jack’s orgasm built and his fingers slid to the crease of Ed’s ass, and the image of flipping Ed onto his back and surging inside him had Jack’s cock throbbing. He pistoned hard as he came, shooting over his chin, chest, and cheek.
A new volley of warm liquid hit his face. Ed threw his head back as he worked their cocks. One final shudder racked his body and he slumped onto him.
Jack tangled his fingers with Ed’s and they locked eyes. “You’re a mess,” Ed said, smiling with such satisfaction, Jack had to laugh.
“Got a towel?” He used his index finger to touch the spot where Ed’s come had hit his face. He rolled his finger through the liquid and sucked it clean.
“I do, but….” Ed winked, leaned closer, and kissed a wet spot under Jack’s chin. He swiped his tongue over his jaw and pressed their lips together. The taste of come on Ed’s tongue had Jack’s cock twitching again. Only then did he produce a small hand towel.
“You were prepared for this little tryst?” Jack cleaned up as best he could in the dim light.
“I told you I can
’t think straight around you. I never thought I’d bring a guy home, much less have the hottest sex of my life on my basement couch. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. You. Us.”
Jack pushed up on his elbows. “You weren’t at all afraid someone would come down here?”
“My parents sleep at the other end of the house. Nothing wakes them. My sister is out at a friend’s tonight. Then there’s the creaking stair. Despite all that, yes, I was nervous. Until I became incapable of thinking.”
“I like you incapable of thinking.”
Ed laughed and stirred against him. Jack could most definitely go for another round. He flipped them, taking the time to kick their pants off all the way. He pushed Ed into the couch and took stock of what supplies Ed had stuffed under the couch. Just lube.
Ed didn’t plan on fucking tonight, then. Fine by him. “I want you calling out my name this time—”
Ed’s phone vibrated against the coffee table, making a loud shuddering sound. Ed frowned, and Jack shifted off him when he reached for it.
Ed scanned the message and his face paled. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.”
He leaped off the couch and began shoving himself into his underwear. Jack found Ed’s jeans and handed them to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Becky’s got herself in trouble. I gotta pick her up.”
Jack stuffed himself back into his clothes.
Ed shoved his phone into his pocket, scanning madly around and patting himself. “Where the fuck are my keys?”
Jack located them under the coffee table. They must have fallen out of his pocket. He took Ed’s hand, opened his palm, and set down the keys. “Where is she?”
“A friend’s party. She wasn’t supposed to go there. She sounded drunk.”
Panic filled Ed’s expression, and Jack could guess the horrible scenarios going through his mind. “I’ll drive us to pick her up. Let’s go.”
He hooked Ed by the elbow and steered him through the house and out to his Jeep. Ed kept his head bent over his glowing phone the entire drive to pick up Becky. He’d rung her for the address of the guy’s place where she’d ended up—he’d only managed to get a name, and the rest of the time Ed had called her friends to get directions.