by G. B. Gordon
“My fault.” Jason held out his hand, and she shook it. “I wasn’t sure what time we’d be back from Seattle.”
Her eyebrow shot up, and Arkady didn’t blame her. He hadn’t expected Jason’s matter-of-fact, no apologies approach either.
“Do you find the lights too bright, Mr. Cooley?” she asked with a nod at his sunglasses.
“I’m fine, but thanks for asking.” He gave her a shark grin, and the shades stayed on.
This was shaping up like an old-school showdown. Too bad Arkady didn’t have any popcorn. He’d never seen Jason like this and was thoroughly intrigued.
Yelena walked around Jason, looking him up and down. He could have been a structural support in her office for all the heed he paid her.
“So you’re the one-glance wonder,” she finally said.
“Ma’am?”
“Arkady promised you could tell what was wrong with my security at a glance.”
Jason half turned and threw Arkady a look over the top of his glasses that sent shivers all the way down into Arkady’s toes. “How bold.”
“I’m willing to let it slide,” Yelena said. “Marketing is about hyperbole, after all, isn’t it?”
Jason ignored her reply. “The security cam overlooking your visitor parking is fake. There’s a fence on the west side that provides easy access to the annex roof, and thus to open windows. Someone propped the fire escape door to the back open while taking a smoking break, then walked away around the corner so the smoke wouldn’t drift inside.” Jason gave her the same over-the-rims look he’d given Arkady. “Did they also disable the alarm, or are the fire escapes not provided with one?”
“You noticed all that just getting out of your car and walking up the stairs?”
He took his shades off and slid one of the arms into the neck opening of his T-shirt, so they’d stay there. “That’s my job. This was the free sample. For a full inspection and report, I need unhindered access to the building for twenty-four hours. Supervised will be fine. Preferred, in fact.”
She nodded and thought for a moment. “You can provide advice about any equipment we might need?”
“Affirmative.”
She gave him a speculative look. “You’re not afraid of me, Mr. Cooley, are you?”
“No, ma’am.”
She laughed and held out a card. “I like that. Very well, why don’t you send me an estimate and we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
They said their goodbyes and left. This time Jason didn’t insist on taking the stairs, so they took the elevator down. Arkady studied him bemused. So that, apparently, was the soldier Jason Cooley, whatever his rank had been when he got out. Holy shit. “I take it back, what I said earlier about you being scared.”
Jason didn’t answer, but after a moment he held out his hand, palm down. It was shaking.
Arkady laughed. “Remind me to never, ever play poker with you.”
They didn’t talk in the car, but now the silence was different. The strain had gone out of it. Which wasn’t to say there was no tension between them, but it was the kind generated by aviator shades, and biceps straining T-shirt sleeves, and the hard edge of a thigh muscle in black jeans. How the hell he was supposed to stay away from that, Arkady had no idea.
He tried to keep his eyes on the road and his mind on the traffic. But by the time they made it home, his own jeans were fitting uncomfortably tight in the inseam.
The tiny hallway always felt crowded when they both got in the door together, but lately the damned thing seemed to be getting even smaller.
Arkady squeezed his way through into the living room with a deep breath. He was intensely aware of every inch of skin under his clothes.
Jason made a beeline for the stairs. Shower? Hardly bed—it wasn’t even seven. But then he stopped in the middle of the room without turning. “Uhm.”
Arkady didn’t have the foggiest idea what he was working himself up to say, so he just waited.
When Jason finally did turn, he threw a long look at the couch, then a quick one at Arkady, before seemingly getting lost in a study of the bare floor. “I was thinking . . .” He made a vague gesture toward the stairs.
Arkady held his breath. “You want me to come upstairs?” God, he wanted to. Reason be damned.
Now Jason did look at him; there was a deep V between his brows. “Only if you want to.” His voice sounded way more gravelly than usual.
Arkady almost rolled his eyes. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?”
Jason shrugged. “Polite?”
A short laugh escaped Arkady. He shook his head and closed the distance between them. “You ask if someone wants salt to be polite, not if they want to be fucked.”
“You didn’t ask—”
“Yes. As a matter of fact I did.” He cupped both hands around Jason’s neck. Fuck, the man was tense. “Hell yeah, I want to come upstairs with you.”
Jason made a strained sound somewhere in his chest, then wrapped Arkady in a bear hug. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” he mumbled against Arkady’s neck.
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Arkady said under his breath. It would make things so much easier. To Jason he said, “Go on, lead the way.” He’d never get tired of watching Jason’s ass. Or of marveling how he couldn’t tell that Jason was walking with an artificial leg. Even up the stairs.
At the same time, he had a lump in his throat; there was a strangely vulnerable mood between them. As if they had rubbed each other raw and were both aware of it.
In the bedroom, Jason stopped again as if undecided what to do next. Arkady had never seen him so insecure.
“Are you sure you want me here?” Arkady asked.
“Yes.” No hesitation there.
“Then what’s going on?”
Jason turned to him and laid a hand against his cheek, tracing the cheekbone with his thumb.
Jesus, God.
“You’re so . . .” Jason gestured at Arkady’s body, top to bottom to top. “I have no idea why you want me.”
“Seriously?”
Jason turned away from him. “I’m not exactly a prize,” he mumbled.
Arkady stood stunned into silence for a couple of seconds, then he let out his disbelief in a barked laugh. “Man, you’re messed up.” Time to lock his own pains and longings away and take care of Jason’s glaring needs for a bit.
“I think you need some mirror therapy for your full body to tell your brain what is actually there.” He took Jason by the shoulders and turned him toward the mirrored closet door. “‘I will give out divers schedules of your beauty,’” he misquoted, standing behind Jason. “‘Item, two lips that leave me anything but indifferent; item, two hazel eyes with lids to them’. Damn, I can’t remember how it goes on. Doesn’t matter, though.” He grabbed the hem of Jason’s T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head when Jason obediently raised his arms.
Arkady whistled softly through his teeth. “Now, will you look at that.” He skimmed the back of his fingers along Jason’s neck and kissed it, then ran both palms over Jason’s shoulders. “That column of a neck, those damn deltoids, that fucking arm porn that makes my throat so dry I can’t swallow anymore.”
Jason stood as still as a statue; only his eyes followed Arkady’s hands.
“And will you look at those pecs?” Arkady raked his fingernails across Jason’s nipples and listened to the short gasp that elicited. God, he’d missed the man.
“That six-pack.”
Jason’s abdominal muscles spasmed when Arkady lightly ran his fingers across them.
Arkady opened the button on Jason’s jeans and pulled down the zipper, then, with a swift movement, stripped both jeans and briefs down to his ankles.
Jason’s fingers twitched as if he was going to hold on to his pants, but he didn’t.
“That ass? Jesus, God, that ass!” Arkady grabbed Jason’s hips and pressed his hard-on against said ass, then let his
hands roam down and inward. “These? I believe the English vernacular is ‘cum gutters’? I want to lick them.”
A tremor ran through Jason’s body, and his dick started to rise like a vehicle barrier.
“I dream of that dick fucking me flat against the wall,” Arkady whispered into his ear.
“Christ, man. You’re killing me,” Jason hissed back.
“Like. Right now.” Arkady couldn’t suppress a grin.
Jason promptly bent to take his shoes off and to get rid of the cloth pile around his ankles, and Arkady quickly stripped as well, then dove across the bed to the drawer that held condoms and lube.
Coming back, he couldn’t help a slap across Jason’s bare ass. It was too inviting.
“Watch it,” Jason growled. He drummed his fingers against the black sleeve covering his knee. “You, uhm, want me to keep this on?” His eyes met Arkady’s in the mirror, trepidation in their depths.
“Your call.”
When Jason didn’t move, Arkady laid his forehead against Jason’s neck. “Listen, I can only imagine what’s going on inside you, and probably badly at that. And I have no clue what you need to hear from me at this moment. So all I can give you is my take on this: As far as I’m concerned that prosthesis is just a tool. Or maybe not ‘just’; it’s a medical engineering feat. Still a tool, though. An aid. Like glasses.” He paused, then drawled, butchering the accent, “And frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn if you keep your glasses on in bed or not.”
Jason huffed a laugh.
“But,” Arkady went on, “I’m down with whatever helps me get fucked against that wall.”
Jason took the lube and condoms Arkady held out, then watched him brace against the wall.
He had a lump in his throat the size of Mount Olympus. That Arkady, buck-naked and obviously turned on as hell had taken the time—again—to acknowledge Jason’s problem, had not laughed at it, and still managed to put it in some kind of perspective, that was shifting something heavy in Jason’s chest, something he hadn’t been all that aware of, because he was so used to its weight.
He cleared his throat and gave one of the condoms back. “You better put that on. I’m not planning on repainting that wall anytime soon.”
Arkady laughed. “Good point. Because I plan on enjoying this to the hilt.” He winked outrageously at his own pun, which looked so funny on his made-for-melancholy face that Jason, too, had to laugh.
Arkady rolled the condom on, inhaling sharply when he touched himself, then put both hands up against the wall again. On edge, then. Good to know.
God, he was gorgeous. Jason let his hands roam all over Arkady’s back, his ass, his legs; leaned in to him and pressed kisses into his hair and against his neck and shoulders.
Arkady’s breath quickened. “I don’t have all day, you know.”
“Oh, yes, you do.” Damn, Jason was glad he’d kept the prosthesis on. It might not be the most romantic look in the world, but it gave him so much more control than lying on the bed, and he intended to use that control to its full capacity.
Arkady hissed something in Russian that sounded like a curse. Jason smiled. He couldn’t remember having felt this amazing in ages.
He warmed a generous amount of lube in his hand, then massaged it into Arkady’s ass.
“Yes, please. Finally,” Arkady groaned.
Jason lined his dick up and started pushing, very slowly, until he felt resistance. He rested his chin on Arkady’s shoulder and whispered, “This what you want?”
“Yes. Now!”
Jason gently bit his ear and gave him another inch.
“Jason, I swear to God—”
“You realize that the more you swear at me, the slower I’ll go, right?”
“Pizd— Gawd!” Arkady shut up, and for a second Jason feared he’d explode with the effort to relax, then he hung his head and the tension went out of his shoulders with a long exhale.
“I knew you could do it.”
Whatever Arkady might have answered was lost in his harsh gasp when Jason slammed all the way home.
“Too much?”
“Perfect.” It came out as a huff of air.
Jason pulled back slowly, then slammed forward again.
A soft whimper came from Arkady that sounded desperate for more rather than hurt, so Jason kept up his rhythm like that for a while. The slow pullback helped him to hold his own. He didn’t want to come just yet, wanted to stay in this moment forever: Arkady’s long, curved back in front of him, arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. Trusting him, wanting him, like, really, seriously wanting him.
He’d looked at Jason in the mirror and talked of beauty. The flashback of Arkady caressing the different parts of his body with hands and words pushed Jason off his plateau, and he felt himself speeding up. He wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. But then, Arkady had wanted to be flat against the wall hadn’t he? Well, that could be arranged.
One hand securely on Arkady’s chest, Jason drove his body forward, again and again, the friction, the heat between them, the sounds Arkady made, nearly annihilating him, until, with a soft oof, Arkady’s arms gave, and he did indeed end up flat against the wall. A shudder like an earthquake ran through his body, his ass cheeks clenched, and like a flame traveling up a fuse, the tremor continued through Jason’s body, spread into side quakes, and finally shook loose his own orgasm, a seismic event off any scale he’d previously established, that buried sight, sound, and time.
When his ears finally worked again, all he could hear was the boom, boom of his own heartbeat in his ears. His skin was slick against Arkady’s back, the scent of Arkady’s sweat and shampoo in his nose, Arkady’s hair damp against his face.
He took in a big gulp of air and slowly straightened up, not quite trusting his muscles to do their job. He winced when he pulled out, too tender now for the tight friction, even if it was only for a second.
Arkady slumped in his arms and unable to get a grip on his sweat-slick skin, Jason had to gently let him slide to the floor.
He went into the bathroom for one of the large towels, wrapped Arkady up in that, and moved him over to the bed. “Stay,” Arkady murmured.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jason removed the prosthesis and checked the stump, deciding it would survive for one night without the usual shower. Then he pulled the cover over both of them, and Arkady’s body against his, still back to chest. That way he could bury his face in those blond curls, feel Arkady’s heartbeat slow down against his palm and listen to his breathing evening out into sleep.
Jason woke from a deep sleep at two in the morning and then drifted between sleep and waking until four, when he had to get up. He felt suspended somehow, as if given a reprieve from a breaking and broken world to a place where he could be whole.
He turned the alarm off before it could ring, so it wouldn’t wake Arkady, then silently collected his stuff and snuck into the bathroom. But when he came back out, there was a light on in the kitchen and the sounds of water running and cabinet doors being opened and closed.
He came downstairs to the coffee already brewing and Arkady busy in front of a pile of bread, making sandwiches. In jeans, and nothing else. Hair like a halo around his head. Sweet Lord.
Arkady turned when Jason walked in, and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck, pulling him into a soft, languid kiss. “Good morning.”
“Yeah,” Jason breathed. “No shit it is.” He pointed at the sandwiches. “Plans for the day?”
“Oh, those are for you. Cheese with mayo and lettuce, ham with mustard and pickle, one PBJ, and one PB banana, right?”
Jason swallowed hard. “Look at you, paying attention,” he said. Because there were no adequate words for what was going on inside him. In his world people didn’t kiss in kitchens. And they sure as hell didn’t make him sandwiches before dawn. He poured himself a mug of coffee. He needed it.
Arkady threw him a puzzled glance. “I—
If you’re not okay with this—”
“No. No, I am. I’m absolutely okay with it. It’s— You are—” Breathe, Cooley. Don’t forget to breathe. “Thank you.” To figure out what he really wanted to say, he had to figure out what to think, which meant he had to figure out what was going on here. Shouldn’t take more than a few lifetimes. Fuck buddies, right?
Arkady still seemed dubious, so Jason said over the rim of his mug. “I swear, I’m okay. I just don’t know what to say. I’m not used to . . .” He threw a vague wave at Arkady and the food on the counter.
The corner of Arkady’s mouth twitched; Jason expected a quip, but then Arkady seemed to reconsider, and held his peace. Good thing, because Jason didn’t think he could have dealt with sarcasm or teasing right now. He still felt weird. Powerful and fragile at the same time, and raw and open. He didn’t know which way he could move without cracking something, and he had no idea why. Arkady had left because he’d needed space, he’d come back for a fuck, they’d fucked and Arkady’d made sandwiches. Nothing cosmic had happened. Things hadn’t really changed.
Despite that, his weird mood held over the next few weeks. It mellowed to something slightly less raw, but it didn’t disappear, and Arkady seemed to feel it too. They were dancing around each other with a strange tenderness of words and gestures and light, reassuring touches rather than sex. Though there was that too.
Work-wise, Jason agonized over what price to quote Yelena for the consult, and in the end went with what he was making per hour right now. Arkady thought it was too low, but told him to go with what he was comfortable with. Yelena sent him back an immediate Yes! Over all, the whole process, down to the actual writing of the report, was way less agonizing than he had imagined. He even felt like he was doing something worthwhile. Something he might want to do again. Maybe not immediately, but at some point, after the feeling of being new at this had lost its edge.
Near the end of October, the appointment for their interview appeared in the mail, and the mood between Arkady and him changed.
“Twenty-sixth October.” Arkady slapped the letter against his thigh, brows drawn together, the envelope clearly forgotten in his other hand. “That’s Wednesday already.” He emitted a sudden nervous tension that Jason could feel radiating against his own skin, trying to worm its way under. He couldn’t let it. This last test was mission critical. “Well, you know the color of my toothbrush,” he drawled.