Fool's Gold

by Sarah Madison

  “I can guarantee you,” Jake said in a voice that would have chipped steel, “he won’t pull funding before the Olympics. Not if it will make him look bad.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, we have to look at the long-term picture here. This would pretty much be the equivalent of you coming to a bridge dedicated in your honor with a can of gasoline.”

  Jake smiled, a slow, wicked smile that had the power to make Rich do whatever Jake desired, if only he knew. “I thought you’d sworn off country music,” Jake said. Of course, he’d recognize the song reference. The damn radio in the barn was always set to a country music station twenty-four hours a day.

  No one should be that sexy, Rich thought. No one should have so much power over his cock that just a smile could make it fill and expand, happy to go along with whatever Jake suggested next. He felt like a teenager again, sitting in a car, waiting for it to get dark enough to fool around. And it wasn’t just sex, he realized. The past few weeks in the lead-up to Rolex had been good between them. He’d enjoyed his days spent in training and his evenings in companionship. He’d gotten used to having Jake in his life again. He’d come to depend on it. It wasn’t goddamned fair.

  “Who said anything about country music?” Rich asked testily. “We’re talking the rest of your life here.”

  “If I win in Rio, I can pretty much do as I want, write my own ticket.” Jake shrugged, somehow managing to sound matter-of-fact without the slightest trace of arrogance. “Either I’ll get endorsements from the industry, or else my father will be so proud of his Olympian that all will be forgiven and nothing I do will matter.” His voice became surprisingly bitter, and Rich had to suppress an urge to reach out and touch him.

  “My, aren’t we planning big.” Rich was torn between applauding Jake’s attitude, so different from eight years ago, when he was determined to keep their relationship a secret, and wanting to smack him for willfully throwing everything away when he was so close to meeting his goals. “That’s assuming you win. Big if. What if you don’t? There’s still the little matter of getting on the actual team, and not just the short list, you know. Not to mention, no one ever remembers who wins the silver or the bronze.”

  Jake’s eyes went dark, and Rich flinched at their burning intensity. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. What I care about right now is tonight. Are you coming in with me or not?”

  He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But Jake might as well be the bottle of whiskey Rich had been forbidden to touch. Just one little sip….

  “I’m coming in,” Rich surprised himself by saying. A fierce sort of exhalation leapt up at his words as he realized how much he really wanted this.

  Jake shot him a quick smile, there and gone in the gathering darkness, a flash of heat lightning on a summer’s eve, and something settled with satisfaction deep in Rich’s bones.

  “Okay, then.” Jake looked shy and vulnerable for the briefest of moments. He undid his seat belt and got out of the car. Rich followed his lead and fell in behind Jake as he fumbled for the key card to his room.

  The lights were almost blinding when Jake flicked the switch, and Rich winced, suddenly conscious of his lameness as he lurched inside the room behind Jake. He quickly went over to the blinds. By pulling on the strings, he adjusted the heavy Venetian slats shut. He was glad for the task, turning to see Jake toss his various keys onto the small table by the window. Switching on the bedside lamp, he started to ask Jake to turn off the overhead, but the harsh white light went out as though Jake had read his mind, and only the soothing glow of the lamp remained.

  Jake stood by the light switch for a moment, glancing about, looking uncertain. Rich was sure he had no idea how hot he looked there in his black leather jacket, red polo, and white show breeches. His gaze swept the room and then rested on Rich with a disconcerting focus. He smiled, and Rich got the insane impression that everything would be all right, even though he knew that couldn’t possibly be the case.

  The words bubbled out of him even as he knew how ridiculous he sounded.

  “I’m not as flexible as I used to be.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow at him as he shrugged out of his jacket. Pity, that. Rich liked the feel and smell of leather, and a little tactile input might have gone a long way toward relaxing him right now. No doubt Jake had continued to have a series of lovers after Rich had forced him out. With his looks and his money, he could have anyone he liked. Rich was uncomfortably conscious of how much he’d changed since the last time he and Jake had fucked, and how selective Jake could choose to be.

  “What are you saying? You don’t want this?”

  Rich suppressed a groan. Jake had no right to look so fucking hurt; as though Rich was somehow rejecting him before they’d even gotten started.

  “Of course, I want this!” Rich growled. “I’m just telling you, I’m not as flexible as I used to be. That means no legs over your shoulders. No marathon fuck sessions. No folding me in half while you pound me into the middle of next week.”

  “Sex isn’t an Olympic event, Rich.” That weird little half smile, the one that made it seem as though Jake had some sort of secret he’d chosen to share with a select few, made an appearance.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rich couldn’t help sounding sharp, even as he knew it wasn’t necessary. Jake’s look was one of soft understanding, not the irritated impatience he somehow expected. Which perversely pissed the hell out of him even more.

  “It means,” Jake said, moving in close enough that Rich could smell the heady combined scents of horse, Jake’s last cup of coffee, and that elusive hint of cedar, “that no one is judging us tonight. There’s no scorekeeper. No one gets marked down for technique.”

  It should have been enough to make him relax, but Rich was all too aware of Jake’s perfection in the wake of his own infirmities. This was a bad idea.

  Jake didn’t seem to notice his hesitation or reservations. In fact, when Rich would have protested further, Jake simply closed the distance between them and pulled Rich in by the lapels of his jacket until they were chest to chest. The heat coming off Jake’s body made it hard for Rich to think, hard for him to remember what his concerns were. He felt as though he’d had one too many glasses of wine, and all he wanted to do was tug Jake’s shirt out of the waistband of his breeches. He needed to feel bare skin so he could suck and lip at it, shedding the layers of clothing between them so his cock, knowing exactly what it wanted, could push up against Jake, seeking and thrusting, demanding to be touched and touching in return.

  Slowly, he explored Jake’s body with his hand, the hardness of muscles evident through his clothing. He remembered the places he’d loved to touch—the hollow across Jake’s abdomen, which was the perfect resting place for his arm when the two of them had lain together in bed. The sleek roundness of the muscles in his shoulders, and the way Rich had loved to run his fingers across the planes of Jake’s back. He remembered all that and more: the feel of Jake’s hands on his hips, the never-to-be-duplicated sensation of fullness and satisfaction when Jake was inside him.

  He traced the edge of Jake’s jaw, where his two-day-old stubble had reached just the right length of bristle. The feel of Jake’s incipient beard dragging across sensitive skin made his cock shift in his pants, and Rich half closed his eyes with a small purr when Jake turned his lips into his palm and kissed it. It occurred to him Jake had been planning this, had deliberately not shaved because he knew how much Rich loved the feel of stubble against his flesh. A wave of skin hunger swept over him. How had he gone without this for so long? Jake tucked Rich’s hand inside his own and folded all four of their hands to his chest while he sought Rich’s lips with his mouth.

  The merest brush of Jake’s lips on his own triggered a burst of sensory memory that nearly staggered Rich. A small whine of sound escaped his lips, embarrassing him. Angry for his obvious reaction, he kissed Jake savagely, but if he’d meant for it to be a battle between them, then he
was the one who was surrendering. If it had been possible, he’d have crawled inside Jake’s mouth. The need to be part of that particular heat that was Jake was overwhelming, and he moaned his frustration. Jake’s lips curved into a smile as the two of them pulled at each other’s clothing, still maintaining the connection between them. There was something anonymous and wrong about coming together in a hotel room like this, but it had been too long since Rich had felt another person’s touch, and by God, he wasn’t backing down now.

  For a long moment, there was only the sound of lips on skin and the intense breathing of two people who were anxious to touch as much flesh as possible. Suddenly Jake pulled back, and with a furious movement, tugged his polo shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  Rich smiled in appreciation, even as a small part of him knew he’d never be able to match that sort of easy grace. He didn’t have time to wallow in his thoughts for long though. No sooner had Jake shed his shirt than he was back, tugging Rich into his strong arms.

  “No Olympics,” Jake promised, even as he slowly sank to his knees and nuzzled Rich’s cock through his pants. When he worked his clever fingers at Rich’s fly, Rich felt like he ought to say something, only he couldn’t find any words at all.

  Fly open, and his cock straining against his briefs, he widened his stance farther for balance when Jake pressed in to rub his face against his dick. As he mouthed Rich through the thick cotton, his appreciative murmurs made Rich realize Jake wanted this as badly as he did. He rolled and tucked his pelvis in little thrusts to meet Jake’s touch, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.

  Wordlessly, Jake reached up to tug at Rich’s pants, but even that small action threatened to knock him off balance. He grabbed at Jake’s shoulders, embarrassment sweeping over his face in a hot flame. Jake looked up at him through that fringe of hair, his expression speculative and assessing with something like amusement shimmering behind it.

  “What?” Rich snapped, prepared to take offense.

  “Nothing.” Jake’s smile was enigmatic just the same.

  “No, you can’t just look at me like that and have it not mean something.” Rich frowned down at him, but Jake had reached up to take hold of his hips and was using him as a sort of ladder to climb back to his feet.

  “I just think we should take this to the bed, that’s all.” Jake’s lips ghosted over his cheek as he leaned in to speak, and the warmth of his breath sent a little shudder through Rich. Firm pressure on his hips forced Rich to sidestep to the edge of the bed, where he sat down. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Jake’s eyes.

  The supreme look of satisfaction on Jake’s face was both gratifying and confusing. What could he possibly see in Rich that made him look so smug, so predatory?

  Jake dropped lightly to his knees again in a smooth movement Rich envied even as he admired.

  “Still taking those joint supplements, I see.” He couldn’t help it; the snarky comment was out even as Jake was nudging his knees farther apart.

  “I’m hoping they’ll be one of my sponsors.” Jake’s voice was sly but his touch was almost tender as he lifted Rich’s foot and began untying his bootlace. “Just think of the photo op.”

  “You shirtless and in riding breeches? Down on your knees? People everywhere will fall all over themselves to buy the stuff. Especially if you add a riding crop between your teeth.” He reached down to stop Jake as he started to pull off the short paddock boot. “I can do that. You don’t need—”

  “I want to.” The look in those hazel eyes was on fire with some undefined emotion. They seemed to plead with Rich to let him do this, and he gave in with a small noise of capitulation. He lifted his foot a little higher, waggling his ankle as he leaned back on his hands.

  The tip of Jake’s tongue made a brief appearance between his lips as he recaptured Rich’s foot and eased the boot off. He made short work of removing the second boot, and tossed it over his shoulder theatrically before he rose up on his knees to tug at the waistband of Rich’s pants again. This time, Rich was able to lift himself up enough that Jake could pull them down over his hips. With a minimum of accommodation in position, they were off. He worked on unbuttoning his shirt while Jake removed the socks from his feet, and a soft growl made him look up to meet Jake’s steady gaze.

  “Goddamn, you look good.”

  The profanity surprised him; Jake didn’t curse often, certainly not as freely as he did. The look Jake was giving him was one of frank appreciation, which flustered him. Jake was between his spread legs, one hand resting on his knee, not looking at his scars at all. Instead, he seemed to be taking his fill of Rich’s torso, his gaze moving as light as a brush of fingers over Rich’s skin. He trailed his hand down the muscles of Rich’s abdomen, following the thin line of body hair to where it disappeared into the waistband of his briefs.

  Rich’s skin rippled at the touch, like a cat rolling into the stroke of its fur. “This old thing?” Rich raised his voice in a falsetto. “Why I just threw this on at the last minute.” He suspected the changes in his body were a bit of a surprise to Jake—the weight lifting had redefined and developed muscles that had only been wiry before. It hadn’t really occurred to him that Jake might prefer him this way, though. In his mind, the body he had pre-accident was the only one that anyone could have possibly found attractive.

  Jake laughed, stretching up still farther until he could cup the back of Rich’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. It was a little uncomfortable, but the feel of Jake’s lips on his own and the way their mouths opened hungrily to meet each other made him forget all about his disability. His groan had less to do with discomfort and more to do with Jake being too fucking far away. He shifted closer to the edge of the bed, even as Jake was meeting him. The kiss deepened and became impatient, almost angry, as they pushed against each other.

  When they separated, Jake reached immediately for the waistband of Rich’s briefs.

  “Wait.” Rich couldn’t believe he stopped Jake, but there he was, his hand on Jake’s, halting his movement. The word had spilled out of his mouth without his knowledge or permission, and he felt oddly betrayed.

  “Wait?” Jake’s fingers had stilled, but his eyebrows had risen so far they were completely hidden by his hairline.

  “It’s just… well, you down on your knees like that. It used to be me. I mean, I can still give blowjobs, you know.”

  “I know.” The look on Jake’s face was one of mild puzzlement. “Are you saying you don’t want me to suck you?”

  “No! I mean, crap.” Rich fumbled for the right words. “It’s just I don’t want you to assume I can’t do things, you know? I mean, I’ll tell you if there’s something that doesn’t work for me anymore.” Angry embarrassment threatened to overtake Rich. The temptation to shoulder his way out of Jake’s touch was overwhelming, even as he acknowledged it was stupid. Being stupid didn’t invalidate the feeling, however, and his confidence sagged.

  The slow, devilish smile that spread across Jake’s face did terrible things to Rich’s resolution to hold a reasonable pre-sex discussion “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted to give you a blowjob?”

  Rich blinked.

  “Not to say you aren’t incredibly good at it.” Jake dropped his head to lightly nip along the inside of Rich’s leg. He worked his way slowly to where Rich’s cock shifted in a bid for his attention. “But goddamn it, can’t you let a guy have some of the fun?” He pressed his nose into the crevice between Rich’s thigh and his brief-covered balls, inhaling as though he couldn’t get enough of Rich’s scent. Rich’s thighs involuntarily spread farther apart.

  “Oh,” Rich said, suddenly confused.

  Biting his lower lip in amusement, Jake tugged at the waistband of Rich’s briefs. This time, he lifted his hips and allowed Jake to pull the briefs down, past his knees and off over his feet. Jake flung them aside with a little growl. Rich’s cock sprang up alertly, happy for the undivided attention. When Jake closed
his mouth over the end of it, Rich leaned back on both hands, closing his eyes at the utterly perfect sensation. Warm, moist heat engulfed his cockhead, but Jake didn’t stop there. He paused long enough to lick his hand and began stroking Rich in a firm grip as he took him in again, bobbing his head up and down as he tried to suck more of Rich in with every pass. He pushed in as though he couldn’t get enough, small, animal sounds of pleasure emanating from him as he licked and sucked.

  Fuck.

  Rich had to open his eyes, had to watch as Jake mouthed his dick because the sight of Jake obviously getting off on sucking him down was the hottest thing in his recent memory. His hips moved of their own accord, rocking into Jake’s rhythmic action. Even as he watched, Jake pulled off with a soft plop of sound to lick his shaft and tease his slit with the tip of his tongue before moving away altogether. The sense of loss was immediate, and Rich had opened his mouth to say, “Um, you’re not stopping, are you?” when Jake began lipping him again.

  He inhaled sharply when Jake applied his lips to his balls, mouthing the thin skin there and sucking on each ball before returning to lick long stripes up Rich’s shaft once more. Just when Rich thought he couldn’t bear another moment of the exquisite torture, Jake would shift focus to another part of his body. Jake’s touch was confident, yet almost desperate, as though he was just as aroused, just as close as Rich was to coming. The strong muscles in Jake’s neck worked as he moved his mouth over Rich’s cock, at times bobbing hard, only to pull back and rub his lips across the tip. He seemed to be in a world of his own, and yet he flicked his gaze up at Rich once to make sure he was watching. Cheeks hollowed out with most of Rich’s dick in his mouth, he still managed to make the corners of his lips curve. He pulled off slowly and gave Rich a final lick before he smiled.

  Rich reached down and cupped his head, remembering anew the silky feel of Jake’s jet-black hair and how much he’d loved to touch it.

  He breathed hard through his nose when Jake took him in his mouth again, his cockhead suddenly flush with the back of Jake’s throat. When Jake moaned his appreciation, Rich felt the beginnings of that ratcheting tension, that glorious climb to climax that tore a heartfelt groan of satisfaction out of him.