Talking It Out

by R. J. Moray

  “Chris said there was a Jessica thing. That you didn’t used to be over it, and he’d thought you would be by now. Did you introduce me to her at Thanksgiving?”

  “I did.” Jack’s mouth was inexplicably dry. Channon seemed composed but this line of questioning was unlike him.

  Now he nodded, frowning down at his fingers working at a fold of Jack’s sweater. “You were going to marry her?”

  “No.” Well. “People assumed we would marry, one day. I didn’t think it was likely. I think Jessica might have.”

  “And she was like family.”

  Jack breathed out hard, the old insecurities spluttering to life, like turning on an old faucet. “I dated her for four years, Channon. My family got used to the idea of her sticking around for good.”

  Channon nodded. He seemed unhappy but not miserable. Jack rubbed his back, running his thumb the length of Channon’s spine.

  “What else do you want to ask me?” he prompted softly. “Ask me anything.”

  “Chris said it was a long time ago.” Channon’s mouth turned down. “How long ago?”

  “High school. Freshman year of college. It’s ancient history, really.”

  “But there is a thing,” Channon said looking up. “And you aren’t over it.”

  Oh, boy. “Not in the way I think you’re worried about. Jessica…took it personally when we broke up. She felt like I’d lied to her.”

  “About what?”

  “Being gay.”

  Oddly, Channon nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

  “She said either I was lying to her about being gay or I’d been lying to her the entire time we’d been together. And she blamed Nate. Then she outed him, which was…pretty bad for Nate.”

  This seemed to shock him. “She outed him?”

  “She told my cousin. Who told everyone.” Jack took a deep breath, pushing away the memories of that particular year of college. “The truth is, I hurt her. But she took it out on Nate, and for that I’ll probably never forgive her because she’s apologized to me but she’s never, to my knowledge, apologized to him.”

  Channon was quiet for half a minute. Then he said, very calmly, “But you’re over her.”

  “Yeah. For almost as long as you’ve been alive.”

  Channon wrinkled his nose. “Weird.” He shifted, leaning more heavily into Jack’s chest, and Jack pulled him into a hug, tucking him under his chin. “You liked her, though. Before that.”

  “I thought so.”

  “But it’s not like it is with me and Kim.”

  “Kim and me,”Jack corrected absently. “No, not like that. Jessica and I won’t ever be friends.”

  “She’s pretty,” Channon said, sounding wistful.

  Jack supposed it was true. But. “When I look at her, all I can see is how vindictive she was, and how angry I was.”

  And guilt. For the way it all happened, and for how Nate suffered for Jack’s indiscretions. Not that Nate was entirely blameless, of course. And Jessica had every right to be angry herself. None of them had behaved well, and the excuse that they had been very young held only so much water.

  The same age as Channon, just about. Channon probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.

  Channon was frowning. “I don’t understand why you didn’t want to talk to her today. You talked to her at Thanksgiving.”

  “I didn’t have much choice at Thanksgiving. She talked to me first.”

  “So if you can choose, you just don’t want to?”

  “That’s right.” Jack kissed Channon’s hair. “It brings up ugly memories.”

  “Like that burgundy suit you wore to senior prom?”

  It took Jack a couple of seconds to change gears. “Hey! You wore a green and purple tie to your prom,” he teased, relief bursting over him as Channon twisted around to grin. “At least I wasn’t getting style tips from the Joker.”

  “I only wore it cos it matched my date’s dress,” Channon said, looping his arms around Jack’s neck. “And you destroyed it.” His grin softened. “You can avoid your ex if you want, Sir. I don’t mind.”

  Jack grinned back at him, glad of his easy disposition and the depth of his trust. “Good to know.”

  ❧

  “Did you tell Channon there was a ‘Jessica thing’?” Jack asked his brother out on the curb in front of his parents house the next morning.

  Chris was about to drive them to the airport. Channon had ducked back inside for his scarf, and Jack had taken advantage of the opportunity to corner his older brother alone.

  “I think you told him, by acting like there was a Jessica thing.” Chris frowned, folding his arms and leaning against the door of his car. “But sure. I told him. I’m sorry if that caused problems for you.”

  He looked sorry, so Jack decided to forgive him. “There isn’t a Jessica thing. I just don’t have anything to say to her.”

  “That’s a thing,” Chris argued. “That’s completely a thing! Dammit, Jack, you know I liked Jess. And I liked Nate. And I…like Channon, I guess.”

  “Thankyou,” Jack said. “I guess.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “But you still think he’s too young for me.”

  “I think you should lock that shit down before it gets away,” Chris said, grinning now. “If you like it, then you should put a ring on it.”

  “Do you get all your advice from Beyoncé?”

  Chris’s grin widened. “Mostly, I get it from my wife,” he said, and then Channon came barreling out of the house so the conversation was over.

  It stuck with Jack, though, on the flight home. They’d been together for over a year now, had been living together for over a year. Channon had bloomed in that time, so much more confident in himself than he’d used to be. Still prone to anxiety, Jack thought, but that was normal for someone barely out of school. Wasn’t it? Or had that just been Jack, and everyone he’d known back then?

  Channon was a delight, and he was Jack’s, and his future was bright.

  Jack wanted to be a part of that future, wanted to see him blissfully happy, grow in maturity into the man he was destined to be. He wanted to be part of it, wanted Channon to be a part of his.

  He wanted Channon to be family.

  Maybe it was the visit to his parents, seeing Chris and Gloria and the kids. Maybe it was the way his dad had patted Channon on the shoulder and told him to take care. Maybe it was the ‘Jessica thing’ and the memories of how he’d thought his life was going to turn out. Whatever it was, Jack couldn’t help thinking about it. What it would be like if Channon was family. If they were a family together. If they started a family together. If—

  He shook the thought away. One day, maybe. They’d have to wait and see.

  Chapter Two

  “Do you want to come with me to the West Coast Business Innovators lunch?”

  Channon wrinkled his nose. “That sounds boring, Sir.”

  “Oh, it’s going to be so boring,” Jack agreed, lounging barefoot in the doorway of his study. “The guest of honor is full of himself, and doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

  “Who’s the guest of honor?” Channon asked, only half-way paying attention.

  “Me,” Jack said.

  Immediately, Channon sat up. He’d been stretched out on the living room floor, doing the yoga routine that had by now become, well, routine. Now he fixed Jack with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “For what?”

  “For implying you’d be boring.”

  Jack chuckled, scuffing his heel against the carpet. “You didn’t know. So, do you want to come? You get to sit at the VIP table.”

  “Who else is on the VIP table?” Channon asked, trying to sound interested.

  “There’s Al Decker, from Selton Inc; Georgie Kramer, who runs the R&D branch of Alloway; the Baileys, of Bailey-Morstan Industries. And you already know Victor Ruiz. Well, you’ve met Victor. On your birthday. He’s one of our clients.”

  “Oh. T
hat’s great.” Channon tried to sound interested but obviously failed dismally, because Jack let out a disparaging snort.

  “Don’t hurt yourself in your excitement,” he drawled, and Channon sat up very straight. “It’s going to be pretty boring, sure, but I’d like you to come with me anyway. I’m going to be pretty bored myself, after all.”

  “Okay,” Channon said. “I mean, yes, Sir. If you want me to go with you, of course I will.”

  “I suppose I was only giving you the illusion of choice,” Jack said. He pushed off from the doorway, crossing the room to loom over Channon on the floor. Then he sank to his knees, straddling Channon’s thighs and pushing him back until he was laid out on the mat.

  Channon went limp, letting Jack pin him down. He loved the feel of Jack over him, of his superior weight and strength. It made his pulse race and his blood run hot.

  “So-o,” Jack drawled, his mouth curving into a smile that weaken Channon’s. “I’m in the mood to do something. What are you in the mood for? Something fun? Something…hard?”

  Fuck. All of that. “Whatever you’re in the mood for, Sir.”

  Jack seemed pleased, but he shook his head, brushing Channon’s cheek with his knuckles. “I asked what you wanted. I know you like it when I tell you what to want, but sometimes I really do need a hint at what it might be.”

  Channon swallowed, thinking fast. It was true, he preferred Jack to just tell him what to do. But if he was given an option?

  “Something dirty, Sir,” he said, glancing up shyly.

  Jack’s smile turned wicked. “Oh, I can definitely give you that.” He leaned down to bite Channon’s lip, tugging on it a little. “Dirty. But sweet? Or sharp?”

  If he was being asked…“Sweet? Please, Sir.”

  “Sweet it is,” Jack said, and he claimed Channon’s mouth with a kiss that was firm but tender. His tongue snuck into Channon’s mouth and Channon let it, opened up for him immediately, letting Jack take him how he wanted.

  He loved it when Jack did this, when Jack held him down and used him—and sure, maybe other people wouldn’t think that was exactly ‘sweet’ but for them? It was what they both wanted, what Channon wanted more than anything. Jack taking him over and just taking him—this time Jack took him with sweet, easy kisses, plundering him like he found Channon delicious. He released Channon’s mouth, kissing his throat, and Channon tipped his head up to allow Jack to get at him. His pulse throbbed, heart thudding hard in his chest, and Jack chuckled, nipping at his skin.

  “You smell so fucking good.”

  “I’m sweaty, Sir,” Channon said, but Jack just hummed, licking over his collarbone.

  “Yeah. Salty but clean. I love how your skin smells when you’ve been working out. Or just stretching out. I love that I know why you do yoga.”

  Channon stayed quiet, enjoying the attention of Jack’s mouth, and the hands slipping possessively over his skin.

  “Because you want to be bendy for me, right?”

  Channon felt his face stretch in a smile he couldn’t hide. “Yeah. That’s exactly why, Sir.”

  “So I can fold you up how I like, right?”

  Jack hooked a hand under Channon’s knee and pushed him up, spreading his legs to make room for Jack to rub up against him. Jack’s jeans were tough, thick between them, but Channon could feel the outline of his cock, already hardening. He felt his body shiver in response, his dick twitching in his sweats, and he wanted his pants off, Jack’s off too, wanted to feel him naked against him on the floor of the living room, under the wide-open curtains and the view of the Santa Rita skyline in the evening light. He wasn’t afraid of anyone seeing them anymore, he didn’t care. What could they see that was so bad? Jack Nash and his boyfriend, fucking on the floor? Jack taking him there, Jack pleasing himself while Channon begged for more, pleaded with him for something to take the edge off the tension building in his hips.

  He wanted Jack. He always wanted Jack, but now Jack was soft with him, his hands kind and gentle, and Channon loved the feel of them against him as they stripped away his t-shirt, his sweats, as Jack undressed, kneeling between Channon’s ankles finally, wonderfully naked. Jack bent his head to lick a hot line from Channon’s hole up his taint, mouthing Channon’s balls until he moaned.

  “Please, Sir,” Channon said.

  “Please what?”

  Jack hadn’t used to like it when Channon would beg, unless Jack had demanded he do it, or so Channon had thought. But lately Jack had been tolerant of it in a way Channon thought he understood. Jack liked it when he begged knowing he wouldn’t get what he was begging for, and sometimes Jack would give it to him anyway because it was what Jack wanted too.

  Now? “Please, can I suck on you?” Channon asked, clutching his hands into fists on the floor.

  Jack made a pleased sound, and climbed over him to straddle his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, I was going to fuck you.”

  “You can fuck me, Sir,” Channon said, but he knew he was staring at Jack’s cock, and his lip was dry so he licked it, spreading around the saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought of Jack on his tongue.

  “I know,” Jack said softly. “But my sweet boy wants cock in his mouth, so I think I’ll give him that, instead.”

  He cradled Channon’s skull in his hand, lifting him up, and Channon opened his mouth greedily, a hot thrill shuddering down his nerves as Jack pushed into his mouth. Jack’s cock was a lot to suck on, and Channon loved how it filled his mouth, how his throat opened for Jack now when he’d struggled so much in the beginning. Jack thrust into his throat, and Channon groaned, his cock so hard he felt like he might come just from the joy of sucking Jack’s dick. The weight of cock in his mouth made his eyes water, and Jack cooed at him, stroking his hair off his brow and touching his cheek where it hollowed in wanting to suck Jack down. “Yeah. Yeah, you can suck. Go on, sweetheart, suck me off.”

  Channon did. He sucked and swallowed and stroked Jack with his tongue, and Jack rocked into his mouth over and over and over, and Channon listened to the hitch and stutter of Jack’s breath, glancing up to see Jack watching him, his eyes pale in the evening light, irises dark-rimmed and beautiful.

  God, Channon loved him so much. And he loved this, loved Jack moving in him, slow and gentle and insistent. He could sense the tension in Jack’s limbs, his eagerness to come, and he knew Jack would flood him in a moment, and he’d have to be ready or he’d choke.

  But Jack didn’t. He withdrew, bending down to kiss Channon’s raw mouth. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at that now.”

  “Like a whore,” Channon croaked, and Jack made a soft sound, kissing him again.

  “Mine. Nobody’s but mine.”

  It felt possessive. Channon liked it, but he also liked it when Jack teased him: I could whore out your mouth, Jack would say, and Channon felt dirty and cheap, but also…also he loved it. If Jack wanted to, Jack could do whatever he wanted.

  “Yours to use however you want, Sir,” Channon sighed, and Jack hummed in agreement.

  “Mine,” he said, and then he stopped, pulling away to look Channon starkly in the eye. “Because you want to be mine. Channon, the only reason—”

  Channon didn’t want to hear it. He wanted Jack to just do whatever he was going to do, and his mouth was open before he could think better of it. “Yours because I’m yours, Sir. Any way you want me.”

  Jack didn’t bat an eyelid. He just smirked, holding Channon’s thighs open to settle between them, cock to cock. “Mine,” he agreed, rocking his hips, and he didn’t stop. “Mine. I’m going to make you come, sweetheart. I want to feel your come on my skin.”

  That was fucking permission and Channon was too wound up to protest, if he’d really even wanted to. “Yours,” he agreed, letting the roll of Jack’s hips, of their cocks sliding one unto the other, build tight warmth in his gut, let his muscles go taut, let Jack ride him up over the crest of it into wonderful, satisfying release. He rocked up, crying out, his balls drawing up tigh
t, and then he broke, come spilling over his belly. Jack made a sound of approval and thrust down against him, fucking himself into the wet slick mess, and then he shuddered, baring his teeth as he came. It was beautiful. The shape of Jack’s face in this moment was something private and wonderful. Watching him come apart for a moment, watching the tension drain out of him until he was a replete, sticky mess, then seeing his eyes come open, snapping to Channon’s with a smile already curving his lips.

  “God, you’re beautiful when you come,” Jack breathed, and then he kissed him again.

  You are, Sir, Channon thought, but he didn’t have the strength nor breath to speak. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

  ❧

  “Legacies can be tricky things,” Jack said, up on stage behind his podium. “They don’t always work out the way you want. Maybe your kids don’t carry on the family business. Maybe they don’t go into politics. Maybe,” he added with a flash of white teeth, “they don’t settle down in a red brick bungalow with a white picket fence, two-point-four kids of their own, and a spouse who bakes pies for the Apple Festival.”

  He glanced in Channon’s direction and winked. Channon felt his heart skip.

  “So you have to make your own legacy. I hoped I’d leave something that lasts, something to be proud of. And sure, JNNS Technologies is a lot to be proud of. The share price speaks for itself. We produce robust, future-thinking software, and we do it better than anyone else on the market. Just ask our clients.

  “But more importantly, it’s a company built on values that have been at the core of what we do from the very beginning. Hard work. Independence. Integrity. Conservation of resources. And people. Our people are our most valuable asset, and we invest in them accordingly. Happy workers are better workers. Engaged workers are innovators. Given freedom, training, and incentive, workers are a golden ticket to change—for the better.

  “And it doesn’t stop at the office door. Our workers need to be healthy, need to be happy, need to be free from the crushing worries of debt, lack of security, and fear for the future. So we invest in them and in their communities. In their families, their futures. Their children. Their legacies. And that,” he added, sweeping a glance across the tables below the stage, “is a legacy to be proud of.”