Operation Green Card

by G. B. Gordon

  With a soft chuckle, Arkady stayed his hands. “Yeah, me too. But I have to make sure you’re ready.”

  There was nothing Jason could have replied. Nor did he need to: his body was screaming it out for him.

  Arkady straightened and reached both hands behind him; Jason couldn’t see it, but felt one hand wrap around his dick, holding him steady as Arkady slowly lowered his ass and just as slowly impaled himself on Jason’s dick.

  Tight! So very tight. The pressure rose unbelievably with every inch Arkady lowered himself. Jason started breathing in long gulps of air, desperately trying to relax, to keep himself from coming, to revel in the keen pleasure that was flooding his body. Then Arkady rocked up again. And back down.

  Jason knew he was making sounds, could feel them in his throat, but he couldn’t hear anything. Eyes closed, head back, lips slightly parted, Arkady was moving in a dreamlike rhythm that suspended Jason’s senses. Stars shot through his body and exploded in front of his eyes.

  Arkady sat up, grabbed the lube, and squeezed some into his hand. He closed it around his dick and started fisting himself, lazily at first, then faster, speeding up the rhythm with which he was fucking himself on Jason’s dick as well. His breath came in short gasps.

  As did Jason’s. Every muscle in his body tightened with need, until his balls pulled up, and all that agonizing tension erupted in a series of blissful releases. Arkady’s ass cheeks clenched around him, his body arched backward with a tortured moan, and his come covered Jason’s chest and neck, echoing his own orgasm.

  With a groan, Arkady pushed off him and collapsed next to him on the bed. Jason had just enough energy left to pull Arkady close against his body, then all he could do was lie there and listen to both of their heartbeats calming. Arkady buried his face against Jason’s shoulder. In a perfect world, Jason would be able to whisper I love you against his husband’s damp hair.

  Once Jason had left for work every morning, there was nothing for Arkady to do, except to sit and watch TV or old movies, or stroll around town with way too much time to think.

  The wedding—his mind steadfastly refused to label it their wedding—but even more so the day after, had left him unmoored. Of course, being a stranger in a strange land and having no routines to fall back on didn’t help, but it went further than that.

  He’d known, when he agreed to a green card marriage, that it was a potentially dangerous decision. Overstaying his visa, being at the mercy of someone he’d never met . . .

  But the real danger had come from a completely different direction, and he’d been blindsided and overrun by a handsome, gentle giant of a man, who kissed like nobody’s business, had a savior streak a mile wide, and yet couldn’t save himself.

  There were glimpses—dances, soul-baring talks, Lily’s impromptu visit—of the relationship that might hold the key to Arkady’s big dream: a family of his own. And in his weaker moments, he wanted to hold on to those glimpses with everything he had.

  Tasha called a couple of days later to ask if he was okay. She didn’t mention the photos. Because she hadn’t seen them, or because she’d decided that all hope for him was lost after she had?

  But after a while, she said abruptly, “You know, if you do love him, you should just tell him.”

  Whiplash again. “Whut?”

  “Come on, Arkasha, I saw the pictures. Obviously, any further warnings to not fall in love are way too late. If they ever worked. So talk to the man. From what I’ve seen, there’s a good chance he feels the same way.”

  But Arkady remembered how shocked Jason had been when he saw the photos from the wedding, saw image after image of Arkady staring at him with lovelorn eyes. And how he’d gone right back to his usual quiet self when Arkady had reassured him that he wasn’t trying to hang on. No, a relationship wasn’t what Jason had signed up for.

  “No, there isn’t,” he said. “And even if there are sparks, that’s hardly enough for a real marriage.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Eventually. “You know I always fall for the wrong guys,” he said lightly, trying to close that topic.

  But Tasha was difficult to distract. “Wrong how?”

  “Lone wolves. Tough muscle. Hard cases. It’s hot, but it’s not— Okay, I’m not discussing this with my sister. I mean, he’s not even trying to have a relationship with his daughter.”

  “And you know for a fact that’s because he wants to be left alone?”

  He didn’t. For a long while he’d thought Jason wanted the opposite. “I have no idea. Look, I don’t get fake married every day. I’m making this up as I go. I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I know. I’ll call you. Take care.”

  Nights were good. Nights had Jason, who turned out to be both more adventurous and more open than Arkady had expected after their tentative start. Arkady still didn’t understand how his awkward reaction to the color of Jason’s prosthesis sleeve had broken the ice there, but happily accepted that it had.

  No, nights were nothing to complain about.

  Days, though. Days were a bitch.

  About two weeks after Jason had filed their papers, they received a receipt and a biometrics appointment for the beginning of September, the latter being, as far as Arkady could determine, an identity check and record.

  Nothing too exciting, but it was a sign that things were moving in the right direction. It still didn’t allow him to work, though, and he was getting antsier by the day.

  Fuck, he needed to get out of here, at least for a few hours. Take his mind off things.

  He left the biometrics notice on the table, where Jason would find it when he came home, grabbed a jacket and his car keys, and headed out the door. The August day immediately wrapped itself around him like a warm, wet washcloth, and he was grateful for the AC in the car.

  It was even worse in Port Angeles. The parking lot behind Vic’s shimmered in the heat, and Arkady’s shirt got damp just from the walk to the front door.

  It wasn’t quite eleven yet, so with the morning crowd gone, and the lunch crowd not yet started, Vic’s was deserted.

  “I’ve put on a pot of tea,” Vic said by way of hello. “Want some on ice?” The Russian consonants soft and lazy in the heat.

  “Sounds great.” Arkady plopped himself on a chair, and when Vic came over with a carafe and two glasses asked, “You okay? You look a little put out. How’s Maya doing?”

  Vic rolled his eyes. His daughter made him do that a lot. “Struggling. She has this course picked?” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize quite how little English she has. She’s enrolled in a remedial class at her college, but it’s geared toward native speakers. It’s a challenge.” He took a sip of his tea and stared out the window. “What she needs is some intensive training with a private teacher.” With a laugh he turned back to Arkady. “But who can afford that, right?”

  Excitement ran through Arkady like an electric current. “I’ll teach her.” It’d be a far cry from a university lit class, but it would be something.

  Vic shook his head. “I appreciate it, man. I really do, but I couldn’t pay you.”

  “Oh yeah, remind me again how much you charged me for tending bar all night at the wedding.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Bullshit. Besides, I couldn’t take your money anyway. I don’t have a work permit yet. Honestly, Vic, you’d be doing me a favor. I’m bored to tears.”

  “No shit? You’re not just saying that?”

  “I swear to God. If one more day goes by without me finding something to do, I’m going to take up origami. Or snooker.”

  Vic’s face brightened. “You are so on.” He held out his hand, and Arkady shook it. Vic pulled him in a bit. “And once you’re legal and looking for a real job, send word. I know someone who knows someone on a college board.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Thanks, man. I will.”

&nbs
p; Arkady hung around while Vic served the lunch crowd. A little after noon, Yelena came in for her usual salad. She sat at Arkady’s table with a short nod. “I tell you, this country is going to the dogs. If things continue like this, I’ll actually be better off where I came from.” Like Vic, she spoke Russian with him.

  “Trouble?”

  “Fucking spray-painting on my wall. ‘Russki go home.’ They like the jobs I offer and the taxes I pay just fine, though.”

  “That sucks.”

  “No shit. Now I’m going to have to put cameras up, or something.” Her titanium facade cracked, and for a second she looked scared. “Shit.” Then the crack disappeared again. “If I catch that son of a bitch, he’ll volunteer in a refugee center when I’m done with him.”

  Arkady didn’t doubt it.

  They went on to bitch about the weather for a few minutes, before what she’d said earlier clicked in Arkady’s brain. “About those cameras: do you have your own security people?”

  She shook her head. “Not worth it. There’s a service I’ll call.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “No, if you have someone . . .”

  “I’m not saying there’s no room for improvement.”

  “I might have just the guy to help improve your security, but I’ll have to talk to him first. If you’re both interested, he could call you?”

  “I never say no to an offer I haven’t heard yet.”

  Arkady laughed. “Fair enough.”

  He hung around after Yelena had left, to meet Maya, and schedule a first lesson. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get back and tell Jason about what could be a first step in a new direction for him.

  On the drive back though, doubt crept in. What if Jason didn’t see it as a chance so much than as an intrusion? It wasn’t, after all, any of Arkady’s business whether he was happy in his job or not.

  Arkady picked up a couple of subs and a six-pack on the way home, then installed himself on the couch and flipped through the TV channels. He laughed out loud when he came across a live snooker competition, and started watching it with amused desperation.

  Thankfully Jason came home not too much later, and Arkady turned the TV off before his boredom could be noted or commented on.

  There was always a strong urge to kiss Jason when he came in, but in light of their no-strings arrangement, that felt entirely too domestic. “There’s food and beer,” he said instead.

  “Lifesaver.” Jason always worked long days, and today he looked every minute of it.

  “And we have a biometrics appointment for the first week of September,” Arkady said on the way to the kitchen; he pointed at the mail on the table.

  Jason glanced at it, but went over to the sink to wash his hands. “Excellent. Where?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Crap. I’d been hoping it would be closer. I’ll have to take the whole day off, then.” His shoulders slumped; he sounded dead tired.

  “A day off here and there’ll do you good. You work way too many hours.”

  “Yeah.” Jason’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Staring at a TV screen all day really takes it out of you.”

  Arkady wasn’t sure which of them he was talking about, but he couldn’t completely keep the edge out of his voice when he said, “Believe me, I’d rather start working today than tomorrow.”

  Jason turned, towel in hand. “Shit. I didn’t mean you. That came out wrong.”

  “At least your staring at the screen serves a purpose and pays the bills.” Arkady popped open two beers and handed Jason one.

  “I guess.” Unwrapping the sub, Jason added, “Sauerkraut? How’d you know?”

  “You seem like a Reuben kinda guy.”

  They started eating in silence. Arkady mentally kicked himself into action. It was now or never. “I went into Port Angeles today and ran into someone I know. She needs security advice on her office building, so I said I’d talk to you.”

  “Did you, now?”

  That didn’t sound too promising. “I’m not sure it’ll pay anything, but if Yelena likes what you have to say, I am sure she’ll find a way to show her gratitude. She’s tough, but fair.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” Damn Jason and his measured reactions. “I also told Vic I’d tutor his daughter in English.” When Jason’s eyebrow shot up, he added. “Not for money. Just a favor. It’ll get my ass off your couch. For a couple afternoons per week, anyway.”

  Jason bit into his sub and chewed. Not the slightest clue in his face as to what he was thinking.

  Now was probably a good time to shut up, but Jason’s nonreactions were compelling. Like Arkady needed to break through somehow, needed to keep talking.

  He pulled the biometrics letter toward himself. “We could visit Lily. Since we have to drive to Seattle anyway. Two birds with one—”

  “Stop.”

  “Huh?”

  Jason had put the rest of his sub back on the wrapping paper. “Stop trying to run my life.”

  “I wasn’t— Look, all I want is to pull my weight. You don’t want me to start fixing up the house? Fine. But you hate your job. At least let me help with that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I fucking can.”

  Jason picked his sub back up. “No, you can’t.” He took a quick, vicious bite; the first tiny sign of anger Arkady had seen. “You keep telling me I can be a security adviser,” Jason said thickly. “But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jay—”

  “Don’t call me that.” Jason looked as if Arkady had slapped him.

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t like it.” It was obviously not that simple, but asking more questions wouldn’t help.

  “Okay. Fine. I won’t. Seriously, though. At least check over Yelena’s office building. Tell her what you see.”

  “Not a talker. You might have noticed.”

  Arkady stared at him. “Now you’re just being pigheaded.”

  Jason shoved the last piece of bread in his mouth, not looking at him.

  And suddenly Arkady understood. “You’re scared.”

  For a moment Jason stared at the table, then he did look up. “Well, I’m not quitting my job on the off-chance of making it freelance.”

  “No one’s asking you to. Do it on your day off. If nothing comes of it, you’ve lost a day you might otherwise have spent shooting at chestnuts. And if it does, start slow, cut down half a shift, take on a job here or there, see how you like it.”

  “Have to check my contract. Competition clause.”

  Arkady let out a sigh and took a long swig of his beer. This was like fighting windmills. “I guess you do. You have it here? Your contract?”

  “Office.”

  “I give up.”

  “And we’re not visiting Lily. Not together.”

  That came out of left field, and it hurt, especially that tacked on Not together.

  “What’d I do now?”

  Jason shook his head. “Nothing. But she already likes you. She’ll expect you to be around. To come visit more often. And you’ll likely be gone before Christmas. No need to make it hurt more than it already will.”

  Talking of hurt. So close to the first blow, the impact of the second took Arkady’s breath away.

  “Okay,” he croaked. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.” Probably because he’d been trying so hard not to think of never seeing Lily again. Of eventually never seeing Jason again. Before Christmas. That was only four months away. Had he complained earlier about things not moving along fast enough? Well, he’d changed his mind. Not that it made a damned difference either way.

  Jason went upstairs to clean up and take care of his leg, and Arkady straightened out the kitchen. There wasn’t a lot to straighten; they barely used it. Taking in the cold stove, the torn walls and broken floor, staring the life they were living here in the face—fuck buddies—he understood with a sudden harsh clarity what Jason m
eant when he said this house was not a home.

  “You coming to bed?” Jason called from upstairs.

  “Go ahead, I’m not tired yet. I’ll watch TV for a while.”

  Truth was, he couldn’t face going upstairs and pretending that all he wanted from Jason was some dick. The at least he’d have that reasoning didn’t work tonight. If only he could leave now, cut all ties, and never look back. Start something real with someone else. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Because when he tried to imagine a relationship with someone else—someone not Jason—all he could come up with was a big fat blank.

  In any case, he couldn’t leave before the little plastic card came in the mail. And even then, he’d still have to list this as his address for the next two years, would have to come by to get his mail. Why had this seemed like a good idea again?

  Because if not for this, you’d have a lifetime instead of two years of heartache, Izmaylov, so quit your whining.

  He fell asleep on the couch and woke up, half-frozen, to the smell of coffee and Jason draping a blanket over him. He didn’t move. What would he have said? Good morning, love?

  For the next week, they tacitly kept away from each other. Arkady spent his days in Port Angeles and his nights on the couch, and Jason didn’t comment. He also didn’t ask again, whether Arkady would come up to bed.

  Well, Arkady didn’t want him to. He didn’t want to explain what he was doing, or have to find another pathetic excuse. But damn, the disappointment was hard to wrestle down. He told himself a million times that hope without a chance was worse than no hope at all, and yet he woke up at fuck-thirty one night from fitful, restless sleep, thinking someone was pulling the blanket up around his shoulders, only to find the damned thing tangled between his ankles.

  He didn’t need this. What he needed was to get out of here, away from Jason, his couch, his naked, powerful shoulders in the morning, but most of all, away from those fucking tender little gestures that didn’t mean a fucking thing.

  He folded up his blankets, and was halfway through collecting his few possessions when it hit him that this was it. He wasn’t coming back. Not to spend the night, anyway. Jason’s paranoia about someone checking up on them be damned. No one was checking, because no one fucking cared, did they? He threw a glance up the stairs, then decided against getting his stuff from the bathroom. Soldiers were light sleepers when it came to unusual noises, and Arkady could get a toothbrush and a razor anywhere. A few bucks were a negligible price to pay for avoiding those searching eyes, and the tempting heartache that was Jason Cooley half-naked on the landing.