Change of Address

by Jordan S. Brock

  Michael shot him another look. “I don’t want you to think . . . you know, that I’m lazy or that you have to do all the work.”

  Josh laughed, leaning further against the center console to get closer, running his hand up to Michael’s shoulder and back down. “You call that work? Work is getting up at shit o’clock in the morning to deal with dough that rose too much and exploded all over the proofing cabinet.”

  Grinning, Michael asked, “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Not for a few years, but bagel-making can be hazardous,” Josh teased—and then realized how stupidly insensitive it was to joke about the dangers of making bagels to someone who’d been shot in combat.

  He opened his mouth to apologize, but Michael laughed and let go of the steering wheel to catch Josh’s hand. With his attention on the road, it took a couple of tries for him to lace their fingers together. “Do I have to worry about you sneaking into my kitchen in the middle of the night? The bedroom is a loft over the kitchen, and smoke rises.”

  “Hey,” Josh protested. “I am a god of awesome breakfasts and brunches. Tomorrow morning, you and I are sleeping in, and then I’m going to make you the best brunch ever.”

  Michael’s hand tightened around Josh’s. “Sleeping in? I thought you were opening tomorrow.”

  Oops. Sheepishly, Josh said, “Uh, yeah. Dee agreed to close tonight and open tomorrow. That was supposed to be a surprise, so . . . surprise?”

  “Excellent surprise,” Michael approved. “And hey, what were you going to say before? Something about email?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Josh said, regretting mentioning it earlier. If Michael wasn’t hesitant about sex with Josh, there was no reason for Josh to be self-conscious and try to change the subject. Right?

  Michael squeezed Josh’s hand again. “Well?”

  And now Josh was self-conscious about bringing up work at all. “It’s nothing. It’s just, Lizzie emailed me the numbers. For the business plan.”

  “Good!” Michael smiled at Josh. “We can finish that up tomorrow, over brunch.”

  “We don’t have to,” Josh insisted, no matter how relieved he was that the business plan part of the expansion nightmare was over. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the next step: getting his dad onboard. “This is practically a weekend vacation for us both.”

  Michael’s smile turned indulgent. “Are you working tomorrow?”

  Josh winced. “Yeah. Noon to closing, then prep for the next day. But it’s just because Dad’s still out of town.”

  “Still, like you said . . . practically a weekend vacation.” Michael nodded. “I’ll take it.”

  “This is great,” Josh said, walking into the barn ahead of Michael. He looked to the kitchen in the back, the loft upstairs, then turned, swiping the pizza box temptingly close to Kaylee’s muzzle. “This was really a barn?”

  “Original to the property, yeah. Hell if I know how they got the permits to remodel.” Michael closed the door and locked it for his own peace of mind, though he wasn’t expecting anyone. The maintenance staff wouldn’t be around for another four days. He and Josh were safe. Alone.

  Josh made it as far as the coffee table in front of the couch, where he put down the pizza and his backpack. “So, uh . . . Do you want dinner now?” he asked quietly.

  Something about Josh’s tone made Michael glance up from taking off Kaylee’s vest. Despite the hesitance in his question, there was no uncertainty in his eyes. He stared at Michael with such want . . . such desire. God, he was gorgeous. Michael knew that Josh thought himself unattractive, plain and overweight and boring, but Michael had never seen him that way.

  “I wish I’d said something.” The words came out soft, softer than Michael’s footsteps as he dropped Kaylee’s vest and walked right toward Josh, drawn to him.

  Josh tipped his head questioningly, a tiny frown drawing his brows together. “What?”

  “That first day, at your shop.” Michael stopped inches away and brushed his fingertips up Josh’s forearm, over blond hair so light, it was nearly impossible to see. “After I ate breakfast—after I settled down and could relax—I kept wishing I’d said something to you, more than just talking about food. Asked your name, asked you out . . .”

  The corner of Josh’s mouth quirked up. “No. You did not.”

  With a quiet laugh, Michael wrapped his fingers around Josh’s arm and gave a tug, pulling him close. “You had the kitchen door propped open. From where I was sitting, I could see you at the table. I waited as long as I could for you to come back up front, but you were busy.”

  Josh narrowed his eyes, thinking, then sighed. “Right. I was meeting with Lizzie.” He put his arms around Michael’s shoulders, fingers teasing at his nape. “And then I switched to opening shift, in case you came in early.”

  Smiling, Michael rested his hands on Josh’s hips, hooking his thumbs into Josh’s waistband. “How about we promise to sleep in from now on?”

  “Please, yes,” Josh said, his voice heavy with exaggerated desperation. “I can’t handle that much caffeine every single day.”

  “Yeah, it’s not good for your blood pressure,” Michael agreed. He looked down at the narrow vee of skin revealed by Josh’s Bagel End polo shirt and thought about tonight. This was about more than just sex. They’d be spending the night together. Sleeping together. “I have enough trouble getting to sleep at night without adding caffeine to the mix.”

  Josh touched Michael’s chin, lifting gently until their eyes met. “Do you have nightmares?”

  Michael shrugged, ducking to kiss Josh’s fingers. “Sometimes. I’m not . . . dangerous or anything when I do. And Kaylee’s good about waking me up.”

  “Okay.” Josh scratched blunt nails over Michael’s neck, sending shivers down his spine, and his eyes closed. “You never answered me.”

  Michael had to force his eyes to open again. “What?”

  With a quiet laugh, Josh asked, “Do you want dinner now, or can it wait?”

  “Wait.” Heart pounding, Michael took a deep breath and said, “It can wait.”

  Josh moved in for a kiss, needy and hot, fingers tight around the back of Michael’s neck. Desire rushed through Michael’s body, leaving him trembling, fingers clenched in Josh’s waistband. His groan was lost under Josh demanding, “Upstairs. Now.”

  “Yes.” Michael took a step back, pulling Josh with him so they didn’t have to stop kissing. He needed more. Josh’s mouth, his hands, his everything. “Josh.”

  “Hmm?” Josh scratched over Michael’s scalp, then dipped his fingers into the neck of Michael’s T-shirt.

  Michael forgot whatever he was going to say. His skin was on fire with every new touch of Josh’s fingers. They were both wearing too much clothing. He let go of Josh’s waistband and tugged at his polo shirt, only to have Josh laugh and back away.

  “Easy.” Josh untangled Michael’s fingers from the shirt and took his hands. “Upstairs first.”

  Michael nodded and let Josh lead the way to the stairs. Kaylee trotted along beside Michael, just as she’d been trained, but he waved her back. Even dizzy with need, Michael felt strong—stable—with Josh’s fingers intertwined with his.

  At the top of the stairs, he let go of Josh and flipped the switch to turn on the bedside lamps. “Kaylee, settle,” he said, gesturing her to the dog bed she rarely used, rather than the big, cozy bed where she’d been sleeping since they came to New Hampshire. She had to think about it for a few seconds before she curled up out of the way.

  “Don’t tell me . . . she usually sleeps up here?” Josh asked as he sat down on the side of the bed, smoothing his fingers down the light quilt, still rumpled from Michael’s nap.

  “Usually,” Michael confirmed, bending over to untie his shoelaces, one hand braced on the foot of the bed. “Not tonight.”

  Their shoes ended up kicked under the bed next to Michael’s half-empty suitcase. Hoping Josh would take a hint, Michael pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floo
r before crawling up the bed to where Josh sat, staring at him.

  “You don’t—” Josh began, then looked away with a long, slow exhale.

  Michael swallowed and sat down a few inches away from Josh. “I don’t . . .?” he prompted.

  Josh smiled. “You don’t have scars. I thought . . . After what you said happened, I figured . . .”

  Relieved, Michael closed those few inches and rested his hand behind Josh. With every breath, his chest pressed against Josh’s arm. “They’re all under my hairline. It was pretty bad for the first year or so, but my hair’s finally growing back.”

  Josh twisted sideways to face Michael, and looked down at his chest. “I wondered.” He touched one finger to Michael’s sternum. The touch was featherlight but pinned Michael in place, stealing his breath. “I was worried. What you went through . . .” Josh shook his head. “You’re carrying enough scars.”

  “I’m here,” Michael said simply, covering Josh’s hand with his own. Josh splayed his fingers over Michael’s chest. His palm was scorching hot, right over Michael’s heart. “Exactly where I want to be.”

  Josh’s eyes went wide and dark, and he surged forward, kissing Michael hard and deep, as if his life depended on it. He pushed, and Michael fell back, Josh following him down against the soft mattress. Their kiss turned messy and full of need until Josh ducked, pressing his lips against Michael’s jaw, his chin, his throat. Michael got his hands under Josh’s shirt and tugged, hinting again, and this time Josh went along with it, shifting and twisting and breaking the kiss for a heartbeat, just long enough for Michael to get the shirt over his head.

  When Josh sank against him, he groaned and wrapped a leg around Josh’s, pulling their bodies closer. They were still in their jeans, but Michael didn’t want to let him go yet. He couldn’t. He dragged his hands up Josh’s back to his shoulder blades, then down again, along the soft curve of his spine.

  “Josh,” Michael said, his voice a rough growl. “You feel . . .”

  “Mmm,” Josh hummed into Michael’s collarbone. He propped up on one elbow so he could run his other hand down Michael’s ribs. Michael flinched, painfully aware that he’d lost weight in the hospital and never put it back on, no matter how much he worked out. Compared to Josh, he looked unhealthily thin.

  Time for a distraction.

  “Josh. Pants,” he said, trying to stretch far enough to reach Josh’s ass, but Josh was still inching down.

  Josh lifted his head and met Michael’s eyes, a wicked grin spreading on his face. “Good idea.”

  Then his hands were at Michael’s waistband, and Michael gasped at the soft brush of fingers tickling against his abdomen. Josh took advantage of the moment’s distraction to unbutton his waistband.

  What about your pants? Michael wanted to ask, but he lost the ability to breathe as soon as Josh eased the zipper down. He’d been hard, but in a distant sort of way, too caught up in the feel of Josh’s body to think about his own pleasure. Now he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up as Josh pushed his jeans out of the way.

  Josh laughed, soft and smug and hot as hell, and teased his fingertips under the waistband of Michael’s boxers. When Michael’s breath hitched, Josh asked, “Too fast?”

  This was the perfect moment for a witty response, something silver-tongued and seductive, meant to put control back in Michael’s hands. Too bad Michael didn’t have one. All he could manage was, “No. It’s—it’s fine.”

  “I hope it’s better than fine,” Josh said—or Michael thought he did. His hearing went away, along with his speech, when Josh’s fingers dipped low enough to brush over the head of Michael’s cock.

  Yes. More. Michael bit his lip and clenched his hands into soft curls. When had he grabbed Josh’s hair? He kept it this side of polite as Josh tugged all the layers of clothes away from Michael’s cock, over his hips.

  “Up,” Josh prompted, sliding a hand under Michael’s ass. He let go of Josh’s hair and braced his feet against the bed so he could lift his hips enough. The clothes hit the floor, and Josh sat back, tugging at Michael’s socks, which was embarrassing but not nearly as awkward as leaving them on.

  “Don’t forget yours,” Michael said, propping up on one elbow to look down the length of the bed at Josh. Somehow they’d ended up backward, with Michael’s feet by the pillows, but he didn’t care.

  Josh’s grin turned bright and mischievous. He tossed Michael’s socks aside and followed them off the bed, standing so he could take off his own jeans. “We should probably talk about some things. Health. Preferences. All that.”

  Michael agreed. He really did. But not now. “Condoms and lube in the drawer,” he said, pointing at the nightstand—and thank God he hadn’t left them in the bathroom downstairs, with the rest of his toiletries. His wishful thinking about his future with Josh had paid off. “I’d really like you inside me, but if you want to ride me instead . . .”

  Josh licked his lips, staring into Michael’s eyes. “Tomorrow.”

  “Or later tonight?” Michael suggested.

  “That works,” Josh said, going right for the drawer.

  “God, look at you,” Josh whispered, lifting his mouth from Michael’s hip to stare up the length of his body. The bedside lamps gave Michael’s winter-pale skin a soft golden glow, softening the stark lines of his hip bones and ribs. Josh pressed a slow, openmouthed kiss to the hollow of Michael’s hip, and Michael’s neck arched, drawing a heated groan.

  All of Josh’s self-consciousness about his weight melted away under his fascination with the strength of Michael’s reaction. Josh was doing this to him. Plain, ordinary, townie Josh had broken through Michael’s wariness and defensiveness to bring him such pleasure—and they’d barely begun.

  Not that Josh was under any illusion that he was a great or expert lover. His past with Nate had been full of enthusiastic fumbling and attempts to emulate porn—never a good idea without a skilled chiropractor on speed dial. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in his genuine desire to make Michael forget all about his DC one-night stands and anyone else he’d ever been with.

  Josh nudged Michael’s legs apart a bit more. He kissed his way down another couple of inches, until he felt coarse, springy hair under his lips. All he had to do was turn his head to nuzzle the base of Michael’s cock. Michael gasped, rolling his hips up, and Josh slipped his fingers below Michael’s balls. The lube was body-warm, slicking his way, and Michael’s gasp turned into a groan.

  “Can I . . .?” Josh teased.

  “Yeah.” Michael bent his knees, feet flat against the soft mattress, giving Josh better access.

  With a gentle push, Josh eased one finger inside. As he started to move, Michael lifted his hips even more and rubbed one foot against Josh’s body. Encouraged, Josh slid a second finger inside him, eyes closed to better take in the heat and the tightness and the hitched, needy sounds Michael was making. With every gasp and twitch and moan, Josh moved faster, more confidently, until his world narrowed to his hand and Michael’s body.

  He didn’t realize he was moving his own hips, rutting against the quilt, until Michael interrupted with a nudge of his foot. “Josh. Josh, it’s enough,” he said, reaching down to Josh’s shoulder.

  “You sure?” Josh asked, trying to be polite, though he wanted nothing more than to sink deep inside Michael.

  “Yeah. Come on,” Michael insisted, tugging on Josh’s arm as soon as he was in reach.

  Josh’s laugh was breathy and strained. “Okay, okay.” He crawled awkwardly up Michael’s body for a kiss, then slid off him, bracing one foot on the floor. He used his shirt to clean his fingers, picked up a condom that had fallen off the bed, and got back on top of Michael as quickly as he could.

  Michael pulled him down for a kiss before he could open the packet. Josh laughed and nipped Michael’s lip, trying to tear only the packet and not the condom itself.

  “Josh . . .” Michael’s voice held more than a little complaint, and Josh kissed
him into silence.

  “Give me a minute.” Josh sat back, grinning, and got the condom open. When he rolled it on, the touch of his own hands was enough to make him gasp. Thank God they hadn’t drawn out the foreplay even more, or he wouldn’t be able to last. His hands were shaky when he spilled more lube into his palm. Shivering at the chilly liquid, he slicked the condom and asked, “Do you want to turn over?”

  “It’s fine. Come here,” Michael demanded, using one leg to tug Josh closer.

  Josh huffed and settled between Michael’s legs, reaching down between their bodies. “Demanding, aren’t you?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around Michael’s cock.

  Michael’s response was lost under his sudden moan. His head fell back, and Josh ducked to nip and kiss at his jaw. A couple of slow, slick strokes had Michael bucking his hips.

  “Josh.”

  Josh’s laugh was sharp with the strain of holding back his own desire. “Okay, okay.”

  Michael’s body was tight, almost too tight. Josh would’ve stopped, pulled back to try again with his fingers, but Michael locked one leg around his waist. “Don’t stop. Come on, Josh.”

  “I don’t”—Josh dragged in a breath—“don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” Michael met Josh’s eyes and cupped his face in both hands. “Please.”

  They both wanted this. Both needed this. Josh nodded and leaned in for a kiss, pushing slowly, deliberately, without backing away, until the head of his cock slipped inside. “Oh God,” he whispered, resting his forehead against Michael’s.

  They went still, breathing deeply, together, until Josh rallied enough to ask, “More?”

  Michael nodded, hair rasping against the quilt. “More.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” Josh whispered as he started to push again, then pulled back. With each thrust, he went a little deeper, and Michael rolled his hips up, raising his knees, until their bodies were pressed flush together.

  “Josh. Josh.” Michael ran his hands down Josh’s back, pushing insistently, as if trying to coax Josh even deeper. “It’s okay. Move.”