by RJ Scott
Again I gave him time to talk and this time his hand moved up so it was just shielding his eyes.
“Will you draw a Santa as well?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Yep. A big round one.”
“But he’ll be wearing the normal stuff. Right?”
“I wouldn’t mess with Santa.”
The grip on my hand lessened a little although he still held on.
“What about reindeer?” he asked, “Like, is Rudolph interested in the raisins as well?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s concern. “Maybe.”
After a while he released my hand and then pulled the covers back over himself and hid. I think he needed some time to process, so I rolled off the bed.
“I need a shower,” I announced, and padded into the bathroom. The water was hot, I shaved, washed, and wrapped in a towel, I went back into the bedroom. The bed was empty, no sign of Luke, or his clothes. I got dressed all the while hoping to hell I hadn't chased him away. He’d been deep in that dream of whatever it was.
I went outside to find him pouring coffee, and with a tray of goodies, toast, preserves, even a bowl of fresh fruit. He looked at me and seemed disappointed I was out.
“I was going to bring this in for you,” he said, and placed the coffee and cream on the tray. “I know it’s not the kind of coffee you really want but…” He shrugged and lifted the tray and then looked behind him at the nook by the fire. “You want to?” and inclined his head.
I went straight for one of the chairs and sat with my legs under me. He placed the tray on a small table between us. I noticed his limp seemed less this morning, but that could have been the fact it was early rather than the bath.
“This is great.” I poured cream in the coffee and sipped it. What people didn’t realize about me was that if I had the chance I would go for the best coffee I could, but a creamy coffee on a snowy morning with a sexy firefighter sitting next to me? Well, I’d go for that as well. “Where is everyone?”
“Andrew is up at the hotel talking to his wife, said there was better signal there. Mikey and Ivan went with him for breakfast, I think, and David apparently left at four this morning. There’s a note on the side with a big flowery apology to Ivan.”
“Idiot,” I muttered. “He was an idiot at college and he’s still an idiot.”
“But you liked him, right?”
I took one of the little plates and the buttered toast and slathered it with preserves, all to give myself time to think.
“You remember I told you about Arnold, the one who lasted six months and wanted me for my money?”
Luke looked thoughtful for a moment, “Yeah, he left when you refused to get engaged. Is that the one?”
“Yep. Well, David was the friend who told me I could do better, that I had to suck it up that I had money and that meant I would have men after me for that reason only. This meant I began to look at David as a possibility. His family is super rich.”
“Oh, I see.” There was disappointment in Luke’s voice.
“Then there was Jamie.”
“The guy you were with for a long time.”
“Three years, and he had money; David, and my parents, approved of him, and yeah, three years is a long time, but the sex fizzled out after a few months, and it wasn’t that hot to begin with, not like last night.”
Shit. I looked at Luke but he didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Some people aren’t compatible,” he said. “Some are.”
“Well, he went off and found himself in Tibet, or Thailand, or both, I can’t remember. All I know is that he hasn’t come home yet and that was five years ago.”
“How long does it take to find yourself?” Luke sounded horrified at the thought.
“God knows.”
“And David?”
“Sorry?”
“I assume this linked to David there, I think this is where you’re going.”
“Oh yeah, sorry, but this jelly is incredible.” I ran my finger along the blunt side of the knife and collected the last bits of it, licking it off me. When I looked at Luke he was staring at my lips. I could feel the stretch of attraction between us. He liked me licking my finger. So I did it again, and he widened his legs and wriggled.
I wondered if there was any chance of some more of last night, maybe in daylight on our bed.
I just needed to get my story out, and maybe tease him some more.
I picked up a plump strawberry, clearly out of season, and took a bite.
“David was there for me when I cried over Jamie. Said that sometimes men were bastards, and maybe I should try someone who was more caring, like him.”
“What?”
“No honestly, he said that. He hugged me, we nearly kissed and he more or less said he was caring and I should choose him. Only he moved away and then the next day I find he’s dating this new guy in my marketing class. But you know, he could have cheated on that guy with me, but he didn’t.”
“So, you had this picture of him being the perfect guy for you, one he created in your head.”
“Oh, it gets better. Then there were a few more one-night stands, mostly alcohol-fueled, stupid nights where I would end up at David’s place and he would hug me and tell me that one day I’d find some Prince Charming. But the one I did find was Oscar. We’d flirted over coffee, and he lasted exactly two dates. We went to bed, and he told me we were incompatible. Of course I couldn’t leave it there, I prodded and pushed and finally he said I was shit in bed.”
“What did David say about that?”
I snorted a laugh and helped myself to some blueberries. “He said that one day I’d find someone who would bring out the best in me.”
“Don’t tell me, a lover as wonderful as him.”
I closed my eyes briefly as the telling of this story became embarrassing, particularly as Luke was getting all riled up on my behalf. “Kind of,” I murmured. “So I ended up thinking that the man I was looking for was like David, but…”
“But?”
I took some more toast and jelly and licked my fingers and looked right at Luke. He shifted in his chair again.
“The guy I imagined in my fantasies was taller, and wider, with darker hair, and brown eyes, and he was strong enough to lift me, and I decided he was a firefighter, a hero, and I called him Marcus.”
“You have many fantasies?” Luke asked, his voice dropping an octave or two.
“You want to hear my favorite one?” I said and leaned closer to him so we were within kissing reach if that was what was going to happen.
Sure thing it’s going to happen.
“Uh huh.” Luke swallowed, and he rearranged his cock which I could see was pressing against worn denim.
“So, Marcus comes home early, and he finds me on the bed prepping myself for when he got in. My fingers are slippery with lube, and I’m loose and ready and waiting.” I moved closer. “You’re not happy that I’ve started without you, but I tell you it was all for you, that I wanted to be ready, but you take my hands and you press them back on the pillows, tell me not to move, push my legs apart and up so you can see everything, and then you pull your pants down a little. You don’t strip, you just get your cock out and slide your hand up and down, and you tell me how much you’ve been thinking of me all day. But I move, and you tell me if I move you’ll tie me down, and I arch up, but there isn’t time for you to tie me.”
“Why?” Luke’s voice was even lower, and he was pressing the heel of his hand against his cock.
“You’re too turned on. You just hold me and turn me, pull and push me onto all fours, and then without any words you push inside me and you fuck me.”
“And?”
I was a breath away from his lips. “I come on my belly just at the thought of you doing that to me.”
“Marcus you mean,” he tilted his head.
I was so hard, my brain empty of the capacity to think, and then it was game over. The kiss was hard, and we somehow ma
de it into the bedroom, stumbling and cursing and laughing, and then he pushed me back on the bed and loomed over me.
“I don’t have anything,” he said.
“Me neither.”
The disappointment was sharp, but he snapped his fingers, went into one of the other rooms and was back again before I could even ask where the hell he was going. He had an unopened container of lube and condoms. A lot of condoms.
“Courtesy of David.” He very deliberately locked the door. “Are you sure?”
Did he even have to ask? “All my fantasies in one man, God yes.”
He didn’t falter, even as I wished I hadn't said that. It wouldn’t be Marcus fucking me into next week, it would be Luke, and I wanted him to know that.
“You Luke, I want you.”
He didn’t seem to hear me, and fuck, he was everything I wanted. He’d listened to my fantasy. He told me to strip and I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough, and then he moved me. I’m not joking, he did this move that had me on all fours, and quicker than I could stop myself from talking his lubed fingers were at my hole and he was slicking the way. I lost track of time, heard myself pleading. Then he was inside me, reaching around, fucking me into the bed. I couldn’t stop the rush of orgasm, as he pushed harder into me and then groaned against my back as he came.
We fell into an untidy heap on the bed, and he dealt with the condom before rolling to spoon me from behind. I reached back, just so I could touch him and ran my hand over skin at an awkward angle. I felt the scars even as he moved to get away, and I turned in his arms.
“Will you tell me?” I asked gently. We weren’t a couple, we weren’t anything except an easy reason for a fuck on a Christmas vacation, or at least that was what I told myself. But, maybe he would share something with me now?
He lay on his back and I got my first look at his thigh. It wasn’t that bad actually, I guess I was expecting burns, or huge scars. What was there was a dip in the skin, as if something was missing and the thigh was sunken at that point. I looked closer, and I could see a scar along one side, but it was a pale pink.
“We were on a call, a building fire. We’d cleared everyone, or so we thought, and then this girl comes running over, says her sister is in there. She says she’s on the same floor that I’d helped clear. I went in, there was a ceiling collapse, I was trapped by a falling beam. Turns out the sister was at a friend’s house.” He gave a derisory laugh and shook his head. “All that for nothing.”
“Luke—”
“So, yeah, injury, operations, crushed muscle blah blah, and I get the payout because I’m not a firefighter anymore.”
“Shit, that must be hard.”
He winced and then sighed. “It is what it is, nothing I can do about it now. However I play it in my head, I would still go into that building.”
“You dream about it still.”
“Night terrors at first.” He glanced at me. “There’s no shame in that, it happens sometimes.”
Had someone told him he should feel shame? None of this sounded right, and I found myself getting defensive.
“No shame at all. Jeez, if I’d been trapped…” I shuddered, because the thought of it sent terror down my spine.
“Yeah well, the nightmares aren’t exactly pretty to see me have, I don’t think,” he said, but before I could tell him that everything was fine, he carried on. “So there I am, trapped, and my crew is trying to get me out, ‘cause you know, building on fire and all.”
How could he be so blasé? How could he talk as if he’d come to terms with everything that happened?
“One of them, Ian, my buddy—he’d been separated from me when we went back in and he was reaching for me and I can’t get his hand.” He closed his eyes. “I mean, I couldn’t get his hand.”
Somehow he’d slipped back to then in his story.
“You held my hand this morning,” I said, when he didn’t immediately continue with the story.
“Yeah, I dream I’m trying to hold onto something that can help me. It was a reflex.”
I reached out and grasped his hand. I had so much inside me to say, about how he was brave, and how I wanted so badly for this thing we had to carry on after Christmas, but all that came out were the only words that made sense at that moment.
“I was glad to be there.”
“You’d like Ian, if you got to know him.”
“I’d like to meet him.” Where that came from, I don’t know.
“You already did, at that car accident? The big guy? Actually, you should come to the re-opening of Halligans.”
I waited for him to take it back, for him to say, oh wait, this thing we have isn’t real. You can’t go.
“Okay.”
“I organized it for a night when I wasn’t needed by you. Saturday. You know where it is, right? I mean if you’re not busy.”
Ouch, way to refocus the kind of relationship we had, but was it wrong that I already knew where Halligans was and that I’d walked past a couple of times hoping to see inside?
Catching sight of Luke, you mean.
“I know where it is, and I’ll come,” I said.
He held my hand again for a little while, and then announced he was taking a shower. I had a fine view of his ass, but I didn’t follow him in.
I think maybe he needed quiet time to process the nightmare that had chased him in the night.
And me? I needed to stop feeling as if I was falling in lust for my fake boyfriend, and remember that this thing we were in the middle of had an ever-nearing expiration date.
Honestly, I couldn’t even imagine how it had come to this, how I had lost control of what was supposed to be a simple contract between two consenting adults.
Fuck my life, fuck my past relationships, fuck David, and fuck the contract.
I stayed in a pissy mood the rest of the time we were there, which to be fair was only a couple of hours. The drive back was quiet but Luke did reach over and fiddle with the radio and I didn’t turn it off in reaction to his choice of music. I let him play with all the numbers I had programmed in and I didn’t even twitch once when he settled on a channel seemingly concentrating on Christmas songs.
I caught him singing along with Chris DeBurgh, and Bing Crosby, and then, in an ad break between Queen and Mariah Carey, he sighed noisily.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to go to Halligans. I really apologize if my invite made you feel uncomfortable. I just thought, possibly as friends, you might like it.”
The words hung in the car, and right at the moment I could bring everything back into a neat package, chalk the sex up as bad timing, and say I would just see him at the staff party next week.
But I didn’t.
“I’m not uncomfortable, if you’re not.”
“Me? Hell no,” Luke laughed.
“Good.”
He was quiet for a bit longer and then he said, tongue-in-cheek, “Maybe we can even find you a legitimate firefighter called Marcus.”
“Yeah.” I realized how uninterested I sounded.
I didn’t want another firefighter called Marcus.
I had my firefighter.
And his name was Luke.
Luke
Ian was there first, I knew he would be. Sometimes between shifts he would come to help at Halligans, and I liked having a friend close by. When they’d told me I couldn’t be a firefighter anymore, I feared losing my friends.; Ian had never let me wallow. He went behind the bar immediately to help me with the glasses, before turning his attention to wiping down the counter. I’d already done that; doubted it could get any cleaner, but I didn’t stop him. I think he was as nervous about this re-opening as I was, just for very different reasons.
“She’s looking good,” he commented between wipes.
I took a moment to look around me, at the legacy my parents had left me and Sara. Halligans was not a themed bar like the ones in Times Square I’d visited as research. Every plaque on the wall was real
and donated over the years that Halligans had been open. Up there, right near the bell that marked last call, was the plaque that the shift had given my mom after my dad died. Right next to my uncle’s police patch.
That whole area was a shrine to what had happened in New York that day and every item in this place had meaning, from the pictures on the wall to every single cut and mark in the old wood.
The first contractor we’d hired said we should rip it all out. He’d lasted about ten seconds before I’d politely informed him that he really hadn't read the brief. The second contractor employed former service guys. We hired him on the spot.
Because he knew. A former soldier, he knew in his heart the value of each piece of the bar, what it meant to us and what it meant to the people who used it, and the memories of so many years of success and loss polished into the old place.
And when I say old, it was old. Built over a hundred years ago it was solid red brick and had lasted through war and terror, and had never stopped serving. Somehow it had become a living monument to the men and women who serve, and Sara and I were part of that.
“Hello sweetheart,” Mom said from behind me, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of glasses.
I bent to kiss her. “Hey, Mom, how’re we doing?”
“Lester is fighting with Jimmy over the nachos again, but I settled it.”
I took the glasses from her and pulled her into a hug. This had been her father’s place, and she’d taken it over when he died, thirty years ago. She’d been younger than I am now, but with her new husband by her side, they’d moved Halligans into the nineties and made it a success. When Dad retired from being a firefighter to work at the bar full time, the party had been huge. He hadn't wanted to stop being a firefighter, the job was in his blood, same as mine, but he’d made the decision to be with my mom, and they’d moved into the sprawling loft apartment above the bar with me and Sara in tow.