Curious

by R. G. Alexander

  Shit. “What about him?”

  “I heard he followed you to your truck and you seemed to be having a heated discussion,” Owen admitted. “Unfortunately the jackass skipped out early and I didn’t get the chance to interrogate him about it. Anything you want to tell me?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Nope.”

  “You know you’re going to have to sooner or later.”

  “Just the usual bullshit.” He wasn’t going to touch this topic. He didn’t want to risk mentioning Tasha’s secret fling. “You know him.”

  Owen sighed. “Unfortunately. You know, I think he wants me to fire him? I don’t get him, I really don’t. He has the perfect girl, nepotism on his side at work, and my father and I bailing him out of all his small brushes with the law so Jen doesn’t have to have her wedding in prison. Even you. He must have said something to get Mr. Still Waters to lose his temper. You’d think he’d be grateful we’re so patient.”

  Jeremy studied Owen thoughtfully. “Stephen thinks you should stop bailing him out. So do I. He isn’t grateful. He’s resentful. He can’t live up to any of you and he knows it. And if you ask me, I don’t think Jen’s entirely happy with the idea of spending the rest of her life stuck with him either, though she’ll never admit it.”

  “I know it.” Owen slapped the water with the palm of his hand. “Why the hell doesn’t she call it off?”

  “She’s got a soft spot for wounded animals and broken toys.” Jeremy watched the water glisten on his lover’s shoulders, distracted by the way the light hit his skin. He wanted to draw that too. He sighed at himself in disgust, speaking without thinking. “There’s also the Finn factor.”

  “The Finn factor?”

  “Your family of success stories.” Jeremy shrugged. “It’s hard to measure up to. Your father started with nothing to build the family bar that’s now a neighborhood institution. Your mother writes a successful series of children’s books because she refused to let her dyslexia be a handicap. Your oldest brother Stephen became a damn fine state senator despite his rebellious youth, and his twin Seamus is raising four brilliant and well-loved children as a single parent, half of whom aren’t biologically his. And then there is you. The All American quarterback who earned a full scholarship and started his own thriving business before his degree had time to get framed for the wall.”

  Owen splashed him. “Bah. We’re lucky. A little more Irish than other people.”

  Jeremy smiled and pushed the water around with his hand before continuing. “Jen’s Irish too. She’s also the only girl in the family and the baby at that. I imagine she thinks she should have it all figured out by now, the way everyone else did at her age. But she doesn’t. The only project she’s ever had is good old Scott, with his rough childhood and his broken wings, and she doesn’t want to admit it’s a failure. That girl might be the smartest of the lot of you, but she’s a stubborn Finn. She won’t admit to being wrong without a fight.”

  Owen shook his head, his expression rueful. “I’m going to need you to write all that down so I can give this speech to Mom. Better yet, you do it. She listens to you.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “Jen is who you should be talking to. Her stubborn ways might get her into trouble if you don’t.”

  Especially if Tasha turned her head by introducing her to the club. He really wished he hadn’t promised not to tell Owen about that.

  “What about you?” Owen asked, swimming around him with an enigmatic smile. “If you won’t tell me what you and Scott talked about, tell me about the rest of your day. How was your afternoon?”

  “Busy,” Jeremy said, looking away from that knowing gaze. “I only just stopped working.”

  “I figured.” He moved closer and reached up to touch Jeremy’s cheek. “You have ink on your face.”

  “I do?” He tried to wipe it off but Owen took his hand, pulling him back toward the shore beside the dock.

  “Just a smudge,” Owen assured him. “It’s cute. Nowhere near as bad as that time you came to Thanksgiving with a handprint on one side of your face. Stephen thought you were making a statement to draw attention to the plight of Native Americans, but I knew you’d just fallen asleep in the middle of doodling again.”

  He put his hand on the slope of grassy shoreline where he’d dumped his jeans and boots and dragged Jeremy closer. “Come back inside and I’ll wash you off and feed you before I have my way with you.”

  Jeremy halfheartedly tugged his hand away. “I’m not ready to go in yet.”

  “Yes, you are,” Owen argued with a smile. “You’ve been ready since you left my office. You’ve thought about me all day, exactly like I told you to.”

  “You are so damn cocky, you know that?” Jeremy trapped him against the shore and his body, tangling their legs together. “I agreed not to be with other people while we’re doing this, but that’s it. You don’t run my life. I didn’t sign on to be your slave, Finn.”

  “Not yet.”

  Jeremy growled and kissed his lips with all the confusion, hunger and fire burning inside him.

  Owen had been taking the lead sexually from the start, topping from the bottom, making him shave, finding a way to get him on his knees. And Jeremy kept following, unable to deny the chemistry or the way he felt when Owen took charge. He didn’t know if it was a reaction to today or his nerves about what might happen tonight, but some part of him wanted to reassert his power over Owen. Wanted him to know he wasn’t always going to get to be in control. He needed him to know that. He needed to believe that himself.

  He lifted Owen up until his back was arched over the slope beside his clothes, his legs dangling in the water. Then he followed, pressing their wet bodies together and kissing him with carnal intent.

  Owen moaned, his arms around Jeremy’s shoulders and his erection rocking against him. Jeremy knew the dock and the darkness wouldn’t protect them completely from prying eyes, but he didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop when Owen was writhing under him and digging strong fingers into his back. For all his talk about control, the kinky bastard didn’t mind having it taken away.

  Owen turned his head, breaking the kiss to gasp, “Pocket. I have lube in my jeans pocket.”

  Jeremy’s cock jerked and he reached out to fumble for the crumpled jeans. “Damn Boy Scout now? Always prepared?”

  “I have to be with you around.”

  All the blood was rushing to his dick so fast he was dizzy. His hands trembled as he palmed the travel-sized bottle of lube and got to his knees. “Roll over, Owen.”

  The stubborn blond hesitated, taunting him. “Try and make me.”

  Jeremy felt another growl gathering in his chest. He wanted to play that game? He slid his hands under his lover’s strong back and flipped him over forcefully, sitting on his thighs and holding his head down on the grass. “Try like this? Is this what you wanted?”

  Owen inhaled sharply when Jeremy opened the lube with one hand and poured it out liberally, using his fingers to massage the tight hole he was desperate to slide into.

  Jeremy rose up enough to force Owen’s legs apart and kneel between them, pushing his thumb into the hot, perfect ass beneath him. “You had lunch,” he rasped. “Had your fill and left me hungry. It’s my turn.”

  “Yes,” Owen whispered harshly. “Fuck, yes, Jeremy. Do it.”

  He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Do what? Forget about Master Finn’s plans and fuck you right here in the dirt where anyone could see? Take you like an animal because I can’t wait long enough to drag you inside?”

  “Jesus,” Owen moaned. “Yes, damn it. Right here.”

  Jeremy didn’t need to be told twice. He tilted Owen’s hips and spread his ass cheeks, lined himself up to thrust home…and then froze and started to swear. “Condom,” he rasped. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

  “Good,” Owen responded breathlessly. “You don’t need it. You’re the only one I’ve let… I want to feel you inside me. Just you.”

  Je
remy was shuddering with the effort to hold himself back. He’d never been irresponsible. Never had sex without protection. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted it with Owen. He didn’t want anything between them either.

  I want to feel you inside me. Just you.

  “Fuck,” he growled, pushing through the tight barrier and feeling the heat burn the head of his cock. “Fuck, Owen. Oh God, that’s so good.”

  Owen’s hands were clawing at the grass and his voice was thick with arousal. “Give it to me, Jeremy. Take what you want.”

  “Still a bossy bastard, even like this.” Jeremy gripped his hair tighter with one hand and used the other to bend Owen’s arm back behind him as he pressed his hips forward slowly. “Remember? You like this, don’t you?”

  “Jeremy.”

  He dragged his hips back before thrusting deeper, still conscious of his size. He couldn’t let go completely. No matter how many times they were together, he always tried to be careful.

  “God,” Owen choked out as if sensing his hesitation. “Don’t go slow. I can take it. I need it. God, I love it.”

  Jeremy did too. Being inside Owen with nothing between them, holding him down and smelling the earth beneath them, he felt feral. Primal. He’d captured his prey and it was begging to be claimed. Begging to give him everything he wanted.

  “Don’t scream unless you want company,” he demanded roughly, his hips starting to pound against Owen with enough force that he could hear the sound of their slapping flesh echoing off the water.

  “No, I won’t. I swear, Jeremy. Oh fuck you’re—Fuck!”

  “So tight, baby,” he muttered, only partially aware he was talking out loud. “Your ass is gripping me so tight. Love fucking you. Gonna fuck you so hard.”

  Every sharp gasp and soft pained moan from Owen spurred him on. “Tell me you love it. Tell me you want more.”

  Don’t make me stop.

  “Yes.” Owen’s reply sounded strangled, as if he were struggling for breath. “Yes, Jeremy. God, yes.”

  He could feel his climax flying toward him but he couldn’t stop long enough to reposition them so he could grip Owen’s shaft. He wanted him to come, but he couldn’t stop. He shifted and started to fuck him with deep, long hard strokes that made them both moan out loud.

  “Owen, damn it, I’m close. You feel too good. I need to come inside you. Nothing between us. Jesus, coming so hard, I’m gonna to fill you up.”

  He bit off the shout that came with his orgasm, feeling the hot jets of release pumping out from his cock and into Owen’s tight ass. Heaven. It felt like heaven.

  Mine. You’re mine now, Owen Finn. Please be mine.

  “Jeremy!” Owen’s surprised cry sounded loud in the darkness and he felt the body beneath him shaking. He let go of Owen’s arm and bent down to kiss his back, his shoulders as both their bodies quake with their climaxes.

  Jeremy breathed out in relief. He’d never been so selfish with a lover before, always seeing to their pleasure before his own, but Owen had pushed him over the edge. Thank God he’d come. “You okay?”

  Jeremy moved off of him, caressing Owen’s hip as he looked down at the results of his climax dripping down his lover’s ass cheeks. It shouldn’t be this satisfying to see, but he couldn’t deny that it was. He felt like beating his damn chest, it felt so good. Or it would, if Owen would say something.

  He needed to stop staring long enough to take care of him. “Can you move? Do you want to go inside and shower now?”

  In answer, Owen pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his clothes and walking a little unsteadily toward the house without looking back to see if Jeremy would follow.

  Had he been too rough? Owen didn’t do quiet. Especially when it came to sex.

  Jeremy stood up, his stomach in knots as he strode after him, leaving his clothes on the dock in his impatience. “Owen?”

  He followed him through the house and reached the bathroom in time to see his lover step beneath the shower spray. His heart sank. He had been too rough. Owen was always trying to push him to let go but he should have resisted. He knew better.

  He’d let his passion get the better of him and he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry.”

  Owen opened his eyes and stared at him in silence for a minute before holding out his hand. Jeremy took it without stopping to think, hoping it meant he was forgiven. Or that he would be.

  He sighed when Owen traced the ink on his cheek again, cupping his face and reaching up to kiss him softly. This wasn’t the hungry attack he’d come to expect from his lover and friend. This was gentle. Achingly tender.

  The hot water pounded against them as they explored each other’s mouths with slow, sensual wonder. Jeremy let Owen take the lead, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he gave himself up to the kiss.

  A thought came to him then and hit him hard enough to make his knees buckle, forcing him to lean back against the tile wall. No matter how logical he tried to be, or how certain he was that this wouldn’t last, Jeremy was falling hard.

  It hadn’t been out of his way. He’d been half in love with his best friend for most of his life. He’d managed to keep it to himself for years, though not entirely. Tasha had known. Still no one else ever had to. Not even Owen. Especially not Owen.

  Falling in love was the quickest way to ruin a friendship.

  When you really fall in love, it will be for keeps…

  Jesus, what was he going to do?

  Jeremy lifted his head to see a smile that tore at his heart. In silence they washed each other’s bodies, neither willing to shatter the fragile moment with words. He watched his soapy fingers massage the lean muscles of Owen’s chest and stomach, felt them glide over tight butt cheeks and between as he tended to his lover.

  It was the most intimate experience he’d ever had.

  They rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, taking more time to carefully dry each other’s bodies before Owen took his hand and guided him to the bed. He lay down in the middle and opened his arms and Jeremy didn’t resist. He joined him, pressing his ear against Owen’s chest and listening to his heart. It was a strong heart. A loyal heart.

  It was a hopeless wish, but Jeremy wanted it to be his.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by before Owen finally spoke. “I left our dinner sitting out on the kitchen counter. What do you say we warm it up and watch some television while we eat?”

  Jeremy didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to talk about dinner. He wanted Owen to tell him how he was feeling, but that obviously wasn’t an option. “Pizza again?”

  “Yes,” Owen laughed softly. “But I promise, I’ll get Indian tomorrow. Unless you feel like breakfast for dinner, because you know that’s all I can cook.”

  Jeremy pushed himself up and studied the light blue eyes he knew so well. “Tomorrow, huh? Is that your way of asking for an invitation?”

  Owen rolled off the bed and walked over to Jeremy’s dresser, opening a drawer and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. Jeremy kept his disappointment to himself when Owen slipped them on.

  “Actually it is,” Owen said as he tossed an extra pair at Jeremy. “But not for dinner. That rainstorm last night? It came in through the roof of my living room. That’s why it took me so long to get here—I was arguing with my landlord.”

  “Shit, Owen, how long have I been telling you that whole complex should be condemned? I don’t have to be in construction to know that.”

  “I know. But it’s just a place to sleep. If I need more than that I have the family house, Seamus, here…” Owen shrugged. “The point is, it won’t be livable for a week or so. I was thinking if I bribed you with your favorite food and promised not to steal the covers, you’d let me stay here until it’s fixed.”

  “Like it’s even a question.” It never had been before. “Lord knows I have enough room.”

  No one in the family would think it was strange. Owen stayed here all the time.

  He stopped at the counter and looked
at Jeremy over his shoulder with a smirk. “We just need the one bedroom, unless you’re feeling adventurous. I won’t be slumming on your couch.”

  The idea of having him here every night made Jeremy happier than he had a right to be. Hadn’t he been thinking about how empty this house was? “Let’s eat. Beer?”

  “Of course.”

  They warmed up the pizza in the oven and carried it into the living room with a few bottles of beer. Jeremy picked one of their favorite movies to watch as they ate in companionable silence.

  Owen snorted and reached for his beer. “That man is a badass.”

  He shook his head. “The raccoon is a badass. That man is his comic relief.”

  “They should make one of your comics into a movie.”

  Jeremy smiled. They’d had this conversation more than once. “Maybe they would if I drew more explosions.”

  Owen slapped his hand on Jeremy’s thigh. “Which is what I’ve been saying you needed all along. Explosions are cool.”

  “If you’re thirteen,” Jeremy countered, setting down his beer.

  Owen followed his lead. “All men are thirteen, Jeremy. Inside where it counts. That’s why you make the big bucks.”

  “I can’t argue with that logic. Now stop talking and watch the movie.”

  Jeremy stiffened in momentary surprise when Owen wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him back against the couch beside him. It felt good. Strange but familiar at the same time.

  It didn’t take long for him to lay his head on Owen’s shoulder. For Owen’s fingers to trace teasing designs against his shoulder. For Jeremy’s hand to naturally land on Owen’s thigh, squeezing the hard muscles he could feel through the loose-fitting sweatpants and moving higher.

  He wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He closed his eyes and breathed Owen in. His skin smelled like Jeremy’s soap, but his soap had never smelled so good on him. Like sex and sin and home.

  He couldn’t help but think about the way he’d lost control outside. He’d been too turned on to stop, and it surprised him in more ways than one. He’d never been in a relationship with a man like this. He had sex, he moved on. If it was really good, he might save the phone number, but he always made sure everyone knew the score going in. It was the same with women, other than Natasha. She was his exception. Being with her was easy. No strings.