David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  David cried out, arching his back at a more pronounced angle. He loved when Jackson did this, loved the feel of his tongue against the hypersensitive flesh, loved when he pushed against his hole, trying to slip inside. David bore down slightly and pushed back, and Jackson’s tongue was right there, pressing against him, searching for admittance. Then his tongue was replaced with long, lubed fingers, pressing inside, stretching him, finding the spot that made his cock flex and his balls feel tight.

  “You ready, babe?” Jackson murmured against his ear.

  Feeling shaky and weak, David still managed to shake his head. “Not like this. I want to see your face.”

  “This skin is raw back here, David. It’ll hurt.”

  “Not if you lie on your back and I ride you.”

  Jackson didn’t speak for a moment. “We can do that,” he said finally, and slid under David to his back. David lifted one knee and straddled him, then positioned himself over Jackson’s groin. He reached down and curled his fingers around the base of Jackson’s thick cock, positioned the head at his opening and, bearing down, slowly began to lower himself. They’d waited until two sets of tests had cleared them both before having sex unprotected, and that bare skin beneath his fingers was something more that felt like a promise, an unspoken vow. It took a moment for him to be able to ease enough to accept the rounded head, but once it was past the tight sphincter muscles, David was able to lower himself slowly, feeling the stretch, the slow burn that caught his breath and made his eyes roll up. He lifted slightly and allowed himself to sink down again, and Jackson slid his hands up his thighs.

  “Babe, you feel so amazing. So hot, so tight….”

  David heard him as if from a distance; what was going on inside of his body had all his attention. The thick, beautiful arc of Jackson’s flesh was filling him, so full it felt like he was touching the back of David’s throat. Especially when he managed to lower himself all the way down until his ass was on Jackson’s groin. David let out a ragged sigh and Jackson reached between them, curling his slick hand around David’s cock, stroking the sensitive flesh with a delicate touch, base to tip, then down again. David fought to catch his breath and opened his eyes and looked into Jackson’s, only to find him watching him carefully.

  “You ready for more, baby?” Jackson asked, the fingers around David’s cock tightening, his next stroke firm. “You ready for me?”

  David gasped at the dual sensation of Jackson’s cock pressing against his prostate and his hand stroking David’s rigid length. He nodded raggedly. “Whatever you want,” he managed.

  “Go up onto your knees,” Jackson urged. David did it, allowing the hot thickness of Jackson’s prick to slide nearly out of him. Jackson’s hands on his hips stopped him before he was completely off and held him in place. “Stroke yourself.” David fumbled for his cock. He was so overstimulated, he could scarcely function, but he finally managed to wrap his fingers around his prick and began to pull gracelessly. “Perfect,” Jackson said, his voice a low rumble. “Perfect.”

  Jackson planted his feet on the bed and began to thrust up, driving his cock into the tight heat of David’s body. Pleasure washed over Jackson’s face; his eyes went half-lidded and his mouth relaxed into a soft O. David leaned forward slightly, the one hand still stroking his prick, the other leaning against Jackson’s chest, and the change of angle brought Jackson’s cock into direct contact with David’s prostate. He shuddered, needy sounds he was too far gone to be embarrassed about spilling from his mouth. Jackson began to move faster, driving up harder, and their skin was slapping together, the sound of the creaking bed and the ragged breathing the only accompaniment. Then Jackson grabbed David’s hand from around his cock, linking their slippery fingers, taking David’s swollen prick in his own hand and gripping him hard around the base. David made a frustrated noise and rocked into each upward thrust, searching for the perfect angle. When he found it, he cried out, his body shuddering.

  “There?” Jackson asked, pushing up harder, stroking David faster. “There, babe?”

  David nodded raggedly, rocking back into each thrust and forward into Jackson’s hand. The skin of his prick was so tight it ached, and each time Jackson’s cock nudged the bundle of nerves inside of him, David came closer and closer to falling completely apart. Then it was all too much, the pounding on his prostate, the feeling of Jackson moving thick and hard inside of him, and David cried out, every muscle in his body clamping down and going rigid as he spilled thick ropes of opalescent white over Jackson’s fingers and onto the tanned skin and black hair of Jackson’s belly. He hung there, shuddering, everything tight; then everything relaxed and he collapsed onto Jackson’s chest, smearing the mess between them, his face pressed to Jackson’s throat.

  Jackson wrapped his arms around David, holding tight and pumping up into him until he finished with a choked groan. Then his arms eased and he held him tenderly to his chest.

  They lay catching their breath for several minutes before Jackson rolled them to their sides, careful not to lay David on the new ink on his hip, as he withdrew from his body. He left the bed, and David remained where he’d been put, so limp and loose-jointed he doubted he could move if he wanted to. Jackson was back moments later with a warm washcloth, and David lay there with his eyes closed as Jackson tenderly cleaned him up.

  “Feels good,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. He didn’t remember yelling, but it felt as if he had.

  “Good.” Jackson rubbed the cloth over David’s stomach and chest, then tenderly cleaned his ass. When he was done, he took the cloth back to the bathroom and came back to the bed, pulling the blankets up before sliding in beside David. He slipped his arms around him and pulled David’s limp body in close, and David ducked his head under Jackson’s chin, resting his cheek against his chest. Jackson’s heart thumped calmly, even as his own was still trying to slow into a normal rhythm.

  “That was amazing,” Jackson said finally. His voice was a deep rumbling under David’s ear. He curled his fingers as far as they would go around Jackson’s bicep and squeezed.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Still coming down.”

  “Okay.”

  Jackson stroked David’s sides and his back until he was breathing slowly and steadily and right on the edge of sleep.

  “Babe?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

  Heart overflowing, David placed a kiss right over Jackson’s heart. “I love you too.”

  They went peacefully to sleep as the snow continued to fall.

  JACKSON WAS already up and in the shower when David’s cell phone buzzed the next morning. He pulled it from its charging cable and squinted to read the text, then gave up and grabbed his glasses. Once he’d read it, he was out of bed and putting on clean underwear when Jackson wandered back in.

  “Morning, sleeping beauty,” he said with a smile, kissing David quickly. “I thought you might want to sleep in while I shoveled the driveway.”

  “I just got a text from Mom.” David stepped into a pair of Levi’s. “They want us to come to your mom’s as soon as we can get there.”

  Jackson stilled, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

  “They didn’t say anything was wrong. They just want us there.”

  That was all it took to get Jackson hurrying into his clothes too. David did manage to get himself dressed and his teeth brushed, but the rest of the grooming would have to wait until he got back. They bundled up in several layers, let Scooter out to do her business, then put her back in the house before climbing into Jackson’s truck. Sitting wasn’t particularly comfortable, and David grimaced as he tried to find a comfortable position. Jackson reached across the cab once he had the engine running and the heater on, and gripped David’s hand.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  David gave him a smile and a small shake of his head. “You didn’t
hurt me.”

  “But when you sat down, the look on your face….”

  “Oh, I’m sore. But I participated enthusiastically.” He settled on one hip with a soft sigh. That would work. “And to be honest with you, I don’t mind it. It reminds me you’ve been there. I can feel you for hours after, and I kind of like that.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Jackson navigated the heavy truck through the snowy streets with expert skill.

  “Have you ever bottomed?” David had wondered, but he liked it so much and Jackson seemed satisfied with their current arrangement, so it had never come up.

  “Once, a long time ago,” Jackson admitted softly. “The other guy didn’t know what he was doing and I tore.” David wanted to find whoever had hurt him and wring his neck. “And I was a kid, determined to try everything. I’m damned lucky I didn’t catch something.”

  “Aren’t we all?” David looked out through the windshield at the snow.

  “So, in answer to your question,” Jackson said after clearing his throat, “I haven’t got much experience bottoming, but if you wanted me to….” He hesitated. “I’d try it for you.”

  David looked over at him. “Maybe, at some point. I like what we’re doing right now.”

  Jackson shot him a smile. “Me too.” He squeezed David’s hand and drove the rest of the way to his mother’s with their fingers linked.

  When they turned the corner onto the street where Shirley lived, even from the corner David saw his mother’s car parked in the driveway. There was also a Coldwell Banker for sale sign in the middle of the snowy front yard. When Jackson saw it, his brow furrowed.

  “What’s that all about?”

  “I don’t know.” David shrugged. “There’s your mom. Why don’t we ask her?”

  Jackson parked and they climbed down out of the truck as Shirley and Beverley came out onto the front porch. David had seen Shirley just a couple of days before when they’d all had lunch, and she was so much stronger than she’d been. She didn’t even have the walker with her today. Her hair was styled and her face was bright and alert. Jackson strode through the snow on the front yard and paused near the steps.

  “Mom, what’s up with the for sale sign?”

  She pulled on her gloves, a smile on her face. “Oh, I’ve decided to sell the house, honey.”

  “Did you plan to tell me?” he asked, sounding faintly confused. “And if you sell the house, where are you going?”

  David noticed with satisfaction that he didn’t ask where he would be going.

  “Well.” Shirley crossed her arms. “Initially I’d thought to move in to an assisted living facility. One where if my MS progressed, there would be people to take care of me. But my dear friend here”—she gestured to Beverley—“has convinced me I could get the same and perhaps even a better level of care by moving in with her, and I wouldn’t have doctors and nurses hovering around unless I needed them.”

  “You’re going to move in with Beverley and sell Grandma and Grandpa’s house?” Jackson still appeared faintly mystified.

  “Honey,” Shirley said softly, “this is no more my home than that monstrosity your father insisted on. This is my mother’s house, and I don’t want to live here anymore. By moving in with Bev, I can have my own room and my own bathroom, and the two of us get on well together. The only thing I’ll regret leaving are the roses. But we can plant roses in Bev’s backyard. You would help us, wouldn’t you, Jackson?”

  “I… sure, Mom. If that’s what you wanted.”

  “It is.” She held out one hand and he stepped up on the porch and took it. “Honey, you know how much I love you. But this isn’t the right time in your life to be living with your mother. You need to be living your life, just as I need to be living mine.”

  “I haven’t minded, Mom.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But wouldn’t you really rather live with David?”

  Jackson looked back at David. He was still standing in the yard, snowflakes drifting softly down around him. Their eyes met and held. “Well, of course. If that would be okay with him.”

  Then they were all looking at David, and his heart was beyond full. “I can’t imagine anything that would make me happier.”

  One corner of Jackson’s lips quirked. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I have an idea,” Beverley said brightly. “Why don’t we all go to Perkins for breakfast and we can sort out the details.” She looked between the two men. “Have you boys eaten?”

  “No, actually,” Jackson answered. “We got your text and came right over.”

  “Well, good. I’d really like some pancakes. Shall we meet you there? We’ll order for you.”

  “Mom, we can order our own breakfast,” David protested.

  “You don’t want pancakes?” She smiled at Jackson. “You don’t want pancakes, Jackson?”

  He held up his hands. “Go ahead and order for me, Bev. I love pancakes.”

  “Kiss-ass,” David muttered. Jackson shrugged, but he didn’t look repentant.

  “Come along, boys,” Beverley all but sang as she headed for her sedan, a bemused Shirley in tow. “Pancakes are waiting.”

  “I want an omelet, Mom,” David said, exchanging an amused glance with Jackson. “A Denver omelette.”

  “I can’t hear you,” she replied, getting in her car.

  “A Denver omelette?” Jackson reached out and David took his hand as they walked to the truck.

  “Oh, I’ll be eating pancakes. That was just my attempt to assert my masculinity.” Jackson shot him an amused look, and David smacked his shoulder. “Shut up.”

  They walked past the sign in the yard and Jackson gestured toward it. “This is a surprise.”

  “It is,” David agreed, opening the truck door and climbing up into the cab. Jackson walked around the hood, taking his seat behind the wheel. He fastened his seat belt, his eyes on David. “Why do I get the feeling this is less a surprise to you than it is to me?”

  David wasn’t going to lie to him. “Shirley has been talking to Mom about it for a while, the thought of going into assisted living. It upset my mom quite a bit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Mom doesn’t feel Shirley is ready for one of those places, and the expense is astronomical. She’s afraid it would wipe out your mom’s savings.”

  “Which it probably would.” Jackson looked thoughtful. He fell into one of his trademark silences until the truck was running and David was belted in. “And it doesn’t bother you, my mom and her health issues moving in with your mom?”

  David shook his head. “No, not at all. My mom knows what she’s doing. She took care of Dad, and she was amazing. And honestly, I think she’s lonely without him. They’re young enough that maybe they can travel a little, and they both love working in the garden.” David shrugged. “Frankly I’m glad Mom won’t be in the house alone.”

  “And me moving in with you? Is that a step you’re ready to take?”

  David studied his strong profile. “Absolutely.”

  “You sound pretty sure.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” David paused. “Unless you aren’t.….”

  Before David could say another word, Jackson grabbed his hand and held it firmly. He let the truck idle at the curb even after Beverley pulled out of the drive and disappeared around the corner. Finally, Jackson turned to David, his gaze level.

  “I’m sure, David. I’ve been sure for a long time. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do about my mom. But between the two of them, they seem to have that problem solved.”

  David bit his lip to keep a smile from spreading over his lips. “You know they’ll be living just down the street now.” He tried to look dour. “That means barbeques with my sister and Sunday breakfasts at the house.”

  Jackson smirked. “If you’re trying to convince me this is a bad idea, your mother’s cooking isn’t the way to do it.”

  David grinned. “We’ll ha
ve to lock the doors and turn off our phones if we want to have sex uninterrupted.”

  “That’s not much of a hardship.” Jackson cocked his head to one side. “So, what do you say, Mr. Snyder? You interested in making me a kept man?”

  David couldn’t stop his smile now if he tried. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Excellent. And we’d better go before our mothers send the state patrol out looking for us.”

  David agreed; knowing his mother, he found the scenario uncomfortably likely.

  Jackson drove through the snowy streets, and David felt safe, cocooned in the warmth of the cab with the man who was about to share his house, his bed, his life.

  He hadn’t wanted Jackson to feel pressured to move in with him, and he didn’t appear to. They would discuss it more later, but for now it was enough that he seemed happy about it. After everything David had been through with Trevor, he hadn’t been sure he could ever make that sort of commitment again. Then Jackson walked into his life, and his heart hadn’t asked his permission. It opened up to let Jackson in, and David did the only thing he could do: he followed.

  David glanced across the cab and saw a smile tugging at the corner of Jackson’s lips.

  “What’s that smile about?”

  Jackson’s blue eyes were shining. “It’s just exciting, you know? A new beginning, for all of us.”

  “Yeah,” David agreed. “It is.”

  A new beginning, and pancakes waiting.

  It didn’t get much better than that.

  DIANA COPLAND began writing in the seventh grade, when she shamelessly combined elements of Jane Eyre and Dark Shadows to produce an overwrought Gothic tale that earned her an A- in creative writing, thanks entirely to the generosity of her teacher.