Fool's Gold

by Sarah Madison

  Jake fluttered his tongue over the end of Rich’s cock in a way that made him arch his back and curl his toes into the carpet. Holy shit, he was good. Without warning, Jake sucked him down deep, working his mouth until Rich’s thighs clenched and his balls drew up. Another groan was wrenched out of him as he sat perfectly still and let Jake take over, not wanting to do anything to derail his rhythm. The resulting hum of pleased satisfaction when he relinquished all action to Jake caused Rich to shudder and release into Jake’s mouth without warning.

  It didn’t seem to matter. Jake took it in stride, gagging only a second before holding on to Rich’s cock firmly with one hand and sucking him down. Rich emptied himself with a series of violent twitches, little aftershocks surprising him long after he assumed the ride was over. He let himself fall back to the bed, conscious of a delicious lassitude and cooling sweat, even as Jake let him slip from his mouth and stood up.

  He stripped with ruthless efficiency. Boots, socks, breeches were peeled away, and Rich watched the show with unabashed enjoyment through half-closed eyes. In under a minute, Jake was standing there in maroon briefs, the dark hair of his body forming a perfect arrowhead pointing straight down to his undeniable erection.

  “You’re like my own damn porn film,” Rich practically purred. “Seriously.”

  “Shove over,” Jake said unceremoniously, nudging Rich’s legs onto the bed. He pushed his briefs down and stepped out of them, stumbling a little in his haste.

  “Hey, spoiling the glow here.” Rich pressed his lips together to avoid openly smiling at Jake’s clumsiness. Laughter threatened to boil up out of some deep, hidden tap of joy, but he knew if he burst out laughing now, Jake would take it wrong. The sight of Jake’s cock, stiff and red with arousal, pleased him on a level that he hardly knew how to define. What should he do in return? There was a time when they hadn’t needed any words between them, when they’d known each other so well in bed that they could just move seamlessly from one act to another.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Jake snarled. He crawled onto the bed, walking forward on his knees until he positioned himself above Rich. He paused only to lick his hand before he began to jack himself furiously.

  Even though sleep was beckoning seductively, there was something mesmerizing about watching the rapid-fire movement of Jake’s hand on his dick. He slowed his efforts only to give his cock a little shake, slapping it against Rich’s thigh, before his hand pumped up and down again. Rich knew this mood well from old. It meant Jake was already so close to coming that he couldn’t wait to do something that took more control, like fucking.

  “Oh yeah,” Rich murmured. He rubbed the outside of Jake’s thighs with both hands where they straddled him. He’d always loved watching Jake jack off in front of him, though it had rarely happened in the past. Lassitude made the words pour out of him like melted chocolate. “Go for it. You’re close. You’re so goddamn close I can taste it. God, how I want to taste it.”

  He felt the muscles in Jake’s thighs quiver. The slight tipping back of his head and the closing of his eyes were familiar, subtle tells that Jake was nearly there. His mouth dropped open slightly, and warm come began to dribble in spurts out of his cock and onto Rich, causing his skin to twitch at the spatter. Flecks landed on his hipbone and in the hair over his softening dick, and he felt as though he was being marked in some way, which was oddly okay with him. He watched in deep satisfaction as Jake, silently as always, rode out his climax. Jake sat on his knees for a moment, eyes still closed as he held his dick. He opened them at Rich’s touch.

  Rich had reached out to wipe a smear of come off Jake’s thigh, and Jake watched him with huge, dark pupils as Rich brought his hand to his mouth and licked his finger slowly.

  “Mmm. My favorite.”

  “You’ve been watching way too much porn,” Jake said, quirking his eyebrow. He let go of his dick and leaned forward on his hands, bracing himself above Rich to taste himself in a kiss.

  “And whose fault is that?” Rich asked tartly when they parted lips.

  Jake laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Gone was the enigmatic bad-boy smile that Rich felt sure he must have practiced in the mirror since he was seventeen. No, this smile was utterly dorky. Even more humiliating, Jake followed it up with a wheezing, snorting sound.

  “The pig snort! I got the pig snort!” Rich crowed, rolling up into Jake to punch at him.

  “I do not pig-snort!” Jake said firmly through his laughter, regrettably snorting again. “Okay, maybe just a little, but how can I help it with the porn-star dialog?” He wrestled with Rich, curling up briefly to protect his ribs from pokes and tickles before giving up and turning to flop on the mattress beside him.

  “You don’t snore either,” Rich said loftily. Rolling up on one elbow, he looked down at Jake sprawled out beside him.

  “I’m not the only one who snores in this bed.” Jake poked his side.

  “I’ve never snored in my life!” He swatted indignantly at Jake. “Take that back!”

  “Careful,” Jake teased. “I’ll end up on some PSA for battered boyfriends.”

  Rich froze for just an instant. As if you’d ever really know what that was like. The bitter thought flashed through his mind and was gone. Don’t spoil it, don’t spoil it. “No one would believe you. You work with horses, remember? Most of us are a walking bruise all the time.” A second later, the rest of Jake’s sentence caught up with his brain, and he was still marveling at the word boyfriend when Jake’s hand found his.

  “True.” The yawn was evident in Jake’s voice. He flexed his fingers in Rich’s palm, a not-quite squeeze. “The hard part is finding any skin that’s not bruised.”

  The silence that fell between them was comfortably content.

  “Rushed that last fence there, didn’t you?” Rich said after a bit. Goose bumps beaded on his skin as he felt the chill of the room for the first time. “I was up for more, you know.”

  Jake groaned. “No horse metaphors, please. And I got exactly what I wanted. Believe me.” This time, there was no mistaking the hand squeeze. “Next time, if you want Olympics, they’re all yours.”

  Jake said nothing more, and after a moment longer, Rich realized he was asleep. Well, it had been a long day for them both. He released Jake’s hand to reach down for the extra blanket at the end of the bed. It unfolded as he pulled it over them. When he settled back down, Jake turned and draped himself over Rich, the way he’d always done in the past. Like the night in the Colonial, Rich knew he couldn’t lie that way for very long.

  But he was going to hold this position as long as he possibly could, damn it.

  As sex went, okay, so maybe it wasn’t the athletic romps of their youth, but anything that made him feel this good couldn’t be all that bad. Besides, Jake had ridden a grueling course earlier in the day, and Rich suspected Jake had been a little cautious in bed, afraid of hurting him. He’d just have to show Jake he wasn’t all that fragile. He strained with his free hand to reach the lamp, something in his back complaining at the effort, but he was just able to punch the switch. A warm, satisfied darkness blanketed the room. He lazily pictured the various ways in which he’d demonstrate his non-fragility to Jake, smiling to himself. Sleep overtook him between one thought and the next.

  Sometime in the night, Rich became conscious of how uncomfortable he was in Jake’s embrace. He rolled to one side, easing out from under Jake’s weight. The change in position didn’t help at first, and he shifted carefully, trying to find some spot that didn’t hurt his spine or numb his arms. Concerned he’d wake Jake, he instantly froze when Jake shifted and moved as well.

  He expected Jake to roll away from him on his opposite side. That’s what usually happened in the past whenever Rich had altered position. Instead, Jake turned toward him and molded himself to Rich’s spine. It was his favorite early morning position, and Rich wondered how close it was to dawn. His muscles were more relaxed than they’d been in a long time, and he could f
eel sleep coming over him again. He eased out a leg, accidentally kicking Jake in the process.

  Jake’s arm tightened around him.

  “Sorry,” Rich murmured, hoping Jake hadn’t actually woken, certain if he had, he’d quickly fall back asleep.

  The soft words spoken near his ear startled him.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  They were little more than a whisper, but the slow opening and closing of Jake’s fingers against his skin made him realize the conversation was real and not just part of a dream-fuddled state.

  “What are you sorry for?” Rich asked quietly. “I was the one who kicked you.”

  An amused murmur of sound preceded words of regret. “I wasn’t there for you. When you needed me, I wasn’t there.”

  “I told you to get the fuck out.” Rich was matter-of-fact, his voice more emphatic than he meant it to be, as he stroked Jake’s arm. “You took me at my word. End of story.”

  Warm lips pressed against one shoulder, and Rich found that he would endure all kinds of discomfort to lie here like this for a thousand years.

  “It won’t happen again.” Jake’s promise sent a little shiver of worry through Rich, even as he felt the certainty of it.

  Jake couldn’t be allowed to sacrifice everything he loved just for him. Or could he? It was his choice, after all. Rich owed him the dignity of making a decision like any other adult. “Fuck it,” he grumbled. “Can we save our deep philosophical discussions for daylight when we’ve had breakfast and some coffee?”

  Jake’s amusement vibrated behind him, and he didn’t feel in the slightest like a teenage girl when, smiling in the darkness, he entwined his fingers with Jake’s own.

  In the morning, it was business as usual, though business felt the need to periodically stop for a kiss. The fact Jake seemed unable to keep his hands off him warmed Rich on a level designed to make him preen, even as he worried about the ramifications of their reuniting. It had the effect of making Rich forget his earlier fears that Jake had never really been that into him. Each little touch, regardless of whether or not there was anything sexual in it, seemed like an affirmation of love to Rich, and he hoped he wasn’t making an ass of himself, or riding for a terrible fall.

  There was plenty enough to do, however, what with getting the horses ready for the long trip back to Foxden. Rich was relieved to realize that sex with Jake had neither reduced him to the mental capacity of a lovesick heroine too stupid to live nor impaired their ability to work together sensibly. If at times Jake’s hand lingered a bit too long on his arm, they still managed to efficiently prep the horses for shipping and get on the road in due course.

  Once the horses had shipped out, the Angels piled into Becky’s car and drove off waving at them. Rich was both pleased and relieved to have Jake all to himself for the long drive home. Everything was remarkably normal between them as they discussed with barely suppressed excitement—masked as cool professionalism—what they needed to do before Jersey Fresh next month, as well as rehashed the events from the past competition. If Jake periodically reached over the gear shift to lay his hand on Rich’s knee, the action didn’t feel portentous. It felt just like it used to, back when they’d first gotten together. The realization that Donald Stanford would in all likelihood be waiting for them when they reached Foxden periodically sent a wave of nausea over Rich. It was the only thing that could dampen his happiness right now.

  The shit was going to hit the fan when they got home.

  “Probably,” Jake agreed when Rich said as much. “I expect I’m in for an earful.”

  “What do you mean you?” Rich asked. “I’m as much a part of the problem as you are.”

  The answering smile on Jake’s face, along with the squeeze to his thigh, was reassuring, despite a look of smoldering concern. “You leave handling Father to me. I’ve been doing this for years, you know. I’ve gotten kind of good at it.”

  Rich made a moue of disgust. “That’s all fine and well for you to say, but think about it. He could really do a number on both of us. Coach violates ethics by sleeping with his client? Or what about the fact he owns the training facilities and the horses?”

  “He doesn’t own The Moose,” Jake said, a fine layer of grit in his tone. “She’s mine free and clear. As for the rest, I’m pretty sure he won’t rock the boat until after the Olympics, mostly because the press would howl. Image is very important to him.” The acid in Jake’s voice could have etched metal. “Leave it to me. Okay?”

  Rich hesitated. All the reasons he’d chosen to take the senior Stanford’s offer eight years ago still held true. Stanford was bound to bring up the medical bills in the course of laying waste to Jake’s hopes and dreams. Or would he? Would he voluntarily admit to paying Rich off to stay out of Jake’s life?

  “Rich?” Jake’s voice was sharp, and he turned his head to look at Rich.

  “Eyes on the road,” Rich said crisply. “Right. We’ll deal with your old man as need be.”

  They were just outside of Winchester on Interstate 81 when Jake’s phone chirped, indicating a text had arrived.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rich intercepted the phone neatly from his hand. “No texting and driving.”

  “I just don’t want you to throw this one in a bucket of water.” Jake’s voice was dry.

  “Bitch, bitch. A night in a Ziploc baggie filled with rice and it was good as new.”

  Now that they were nearing the end of the trip, Jake was no longer slouching comfortably but sitting upright in the driver’s seat. He’d stopped reaching out to touch Rich as well—both hands were on the wheel now, gripping the steering mechanism with tautness evident in every muscle along his forearms. “Who’s it from?”

  “Tom,” Rich said, reading the text. “He says he’s gotten an ETA from both the shipper and the Angels, and everyone’s on schedule. He presumes you’ll beat them home because you have no earthly idea of how to obey the speed limit.”

  “He didn’t say that.” Jake snorted. He flicked a glance at the phone in Rich’s hand. “Tom’s texts tend to be pithy and to the point. If he’d said anything about my driving, it would have been ‘slow down’ in all caps.”

  “I’m reading between the lines.”

  A second text came through.

  “Uh-oh,” Rich said. “As expected, your dad has arrived.”

  Jake stared out of the windshield expressionlessly, but his hands tightened even harder on the wheel.

  Rich had no choice. He couldn’t let Jake find out about the insurance from his father. He owed Jake that much.

  “Jake. About that day at the hospital.”

  “Forget about it. I already have.”

  “Liar. No, seriously, we need to talk.”

  Jake side-eyed him briefly. “In my experience, nothing good ever comes from that sentence.”

  Rich winced. “I know. I know. But this is important.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “Didn’t you ever wonder how I paid for my medical bills?”

  “No.” Jake dragged the word out slowly, as though he already didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “I knew you didn’t have insurance, but there was Medicaid, right?”

  Rich shook his head. “I didn’t qualify, I guess.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t qualify? You were exactly the kind of person Medicaid was set up for.” The anger in Jake’s voice made Rich wince.

  Rich tried to think back to the days immediately post-surgery. “Someone from social services came to see me, but it’s all a bit fuzzy. It doesn’t matter, though, because I couldn’t get it.”

  “But what about the money from the driver of the other car?”

  “What money?” Rich frowned, twisting a little to look at Jake. “Your father said he didn’t have insurance.”

  Jake’s knuckles turned white with his grip. He pressed his lips in a flat line briefly and his nostrils flared before he spoke. “My father spoke to you in the hospital? He never mentioned
that. He sued the driver’s estate. The guy didn’t have much, but my father made sure he took it all, regardless of whether the widow needed it or not. You never got any of that money? I always assumed….”

  That bastard. It figured Stanford would find a way to recoup some of his losses.

  “Well, I hope at least Mick’s family saw some of it,” Rich snapped without thinking.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Rich?” The car sped up, as though responding to Jake’s increasing anger.

  Rich placed a bracing hand on the dashboard. “Do you mind slowing down a bit?”

  Jake eased up on the gas pedal but maintained a death grip on the steering wheel.

  “Your dad paid for my medical expenses. All of them.” There. He’d said it.

  “Huh. That was pretty cool of him.”

  For a moment, Rich thought he’d gotten off lucky, that Jake had seen his father’s act as a gesture of profound generosity, only he should have known better. Jake might be sheltered in the ways of the real world, but he wasn’t stupid. “So how big a payoff did it take for you to cut me out of your life?”

  “It’s not that cut and dried.” Backed into a corner, Rich got defensive. “What would you have had me do? I was twenty-one, without a job, without a future, and facing months of rehab without knowing if I’d end up permanently disabled. I wasn’t even fully awake from anesthesia before someone from the hospital was in my room, wanting to know how I was going to pay. I was looking at thousands of dollars in medical bills. Hundreds of thousands,” he amended.

  “You had me.”

  “No, no I didn’t.” Rich knew he was yelling now, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You left. You left.”

  “Because you told me to! Did you have so little faith in me you thought I’d choose my father’s money over you? Oh wait, that’s what you did, so yeah, I can see why you’d think I would too.”