He closed his eyes and moaned. Dang, but his baby could cook like a master.
Jacob Lee rattled his key until the stubborn, sticky old lock gave, poked his head inside, and bellowed: “Honey, I'm home!"
A peal of Donathan's delighted laughter rang out. “I gave at the office!"
"Better not have.” Jacob Lee stepped inside and kicked off his sneakers, sending them flying into the corner with a thump, thump. He wiggled his bare toes, loving the feel of good old hardwood under his feet. “Or do I have to go play the jealous boyfriend again?"
"Shut up and get in here, you nut.” A pot lid clattered. “Shit."
"Something wrong?” Jacob Lee padded through their den, surprisingly clean, and their bedroom, the covers made and the windowsills dusted. “You were bored today, weren't you?"
"Could be,” Donathan teased. He looked up to beam at Jacob Lee as Jacob Lee entered the kitchen, waving a marinara-covered wooden spoon at him. “Or maybe it was just time for the semi-annual housekeeping. Who knows?"
"Smartass.” Jacob Lee dove for Donathan, eager to have the man in his arms again. Lord, he hadn't seen Donathan since morning, and he was still on four-hourly cravings for the man. He hoped to high heaven this would never end, that he'd roll with this much desire and eagerness when they were both old and gray.
Donathan called him a soppy old romantic, but he never did complain, another thing Jacob Lee adored about him.
His lover looked extra special sexy today. He wore no shirt, his wildly tangled tattoos on glorious display with dragons swooping and crouching, a samurai posing under crossed swords and a bright green pair of cat's eyes over Donathan's navel.
Donathan crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement at Jacob Lee's incessant fascination with the art. As ever, Jacob Lee couldn't resist gliding his fingers over Donathan's smooth, taut arms, tracing the interwoven strings of calligraphy, cherry blossom trees and twining cats.
All that, and it only got better. For pants, Donathan wore only a pair of cut-off sweats made of light, emerald green cotton, their raveled strings trailing to mid-shin, their waist riding low on his slim hips. Jacob Lee could see the jut of Donathan's sharply cut hipbones just above where the material started, as well as the narrow trail of dark, curling hair leading underneath. The sight made him want to go to his knees on the spot to lick his way from navel to nuts and suck Donathan until he completely and totally forgot the concept of dinner altogether.
"Forget the dinner, babe,” he crooned, raising Donathan's hand to his lips. “Can I just eat you instead?"
"Hey, watch the spoon!” Donathan wrapped his arms around Jacob Lee, sticky and sweaty as Jacob Lee was, lightly slapping his back. “If you make me spill anything, then you're the one who does the next load of laundry."
"Spoilsport.” Jacob Lee ruffled up Donathan's hair, finally grown out enough from his disastrous experience with a bratty kid who'd gone and rubbed bubble gum on his man's scalp. “I could almost run my hands through this.” Jacob Lee bent his nose to the top of Donathan's head, breathing deep, drawing in the scent of pine-scented shampoo and warm male. Delicious. Aphrodisiac.
"I wouldn't mind a bit,” Donathan informed him, nibbling on Jacob Lee's neck. The man had a biting fetish, not that Jacob Lee was about to raise a fuss over his inclinations. “Feel free."
And who could turn down such an invitation? Jacob Lee hummed happily, petting his lover's soft, sleek black waves, smooth and silky as an otter's pelt. Donathan murmured, deeply content, and dropped the spoon on the stove behind him.
Jacob Lee noticed that Donathan's skin was warm, the color flushed as if he'd sat in the sun for a few hours, which told him what his man had spent as much time outside today as he himself had, basking in the heat like one of those jewel-colored lizards. Donathan worked in the outdoors every chance he got, far too much of a free spirit to tie himself down to a nine-to-five. He earned his bread by putting his love for shapes and colors to work in the park, painting on intricate henna designs, doing portrait sketches, sometimes fooling around with a jerry-rigged EZ-Bake oven and polymer clay, and when all else failed, face-painting kids. For his own pleasure, he'd started work on the masterpiece slowly etching its way into his skin, claiming he loved the way the colors flared to life under clement blue skies.
'Course, working outside and dealing with artistic types did have its drawbacks. One day when Donathan had decided to focus on face-painting, a bratty toddler too young for much patience had splatted a huge, soggy wad of grape Bubbilicious on the back of his head. Jacob Lee never had known whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the memory of Donathan coming home with a face like a thundercloud, sticky purple goo ground deep in his hair.
"I know what you're thinking right now,” Donathan warned. Jacob Lee realized he'd been petting the bubble gum spot. “I'm still pissed at you for getting so tickled over that whole disaster."
"I made it up to you."
"Hmm. True. Come here.” Donathan pulled free of Jacob Lee's chin and wrapped his sculpted dancer's arms around Jacob Lee's neck. “I want to kiss you."
"Then why don't you? Or here, I'll do it for you.” Jacob Lee tilted Donathan's head up at the right angle and bent to capture his lover's firm, sweet lips with his own. He nipped them, giving Donathan a taste of his own exciting medicine, then licked them to ease away the sting. Donathan tasted of tomatoes and red pepper and the sharp tang of the red wine he mixed into his sauce.
No one cooked like his baby. He got an even better taste when he stroked his tongue over Donathan's, but even better than the flavor was the sound of Donathan's small, lustful moan.
Donathan sighed when they parted for air, contented as a cat in the cream. His gentian eyes had gone hazy, clouded over with the need for more; his teeth nibbled his lower lip in a gesture that told Jacob Lee louder than words: not yet.
No problem. They had time. Jacob Lee popped Donathan on the ass and pushed him gently back toward the stove. “Better get that before it burns."
Donathan, as always, read Jacob Lee's mind. “Rain check until just after dinner, okay?"
"Red sauce versus sex.” Jacob Lee pretended to be tragically struck with dismay, throwing his arm over his eyes in the universal “oh, the humanity” sign. He cackled when Donathan flicked his wrist with forefinger and thumb. “All right, all right. Back to the stove, you. Sooner we eat, the sooner I can have my wicked way with you."
"Lord! Who writes your scripts?"
Jacob Lee leered, deliberately over the top. “Phone sex operators."
"Nut. To hear you talk, anyone would think you didn't eat anything and everything that stands still long enough for you to stab it with a fork. And I know what you're about to say, so zip it.” Donathan winked at him.
Jacob Lee hummed a noncommittal response and watched idly as his lover did his culinary thing. He plucked a cast-aside apron off the back of a kitchen chair, tied it around his waist, and wielded his long spoon like a master, stirring his pot of thick red marinara sauce. Rich tomato aromas exploded every time a bubble popped to the surface while it went through the rolling boil stage. He blew on the spoon and thoughtfully touched the tip to his tongue.
Jacob Lee could have moaned at the sight of his lover's careful tasting, the memories of Donathan's luscious mouth kissing him all over zinging directly to his cock.
"Only you could make wearing an apron look sexy,” Jacob Lee informed his best guy, leaning over the small kitchen counter and crossing his legs at the ankle behind him. He caught one loose tie on Donathan's chosen apron, plain and utilitarian save for the trailing strings, and tugged. “I've seen my share of chef porn. You put them all to shame, darlin'."
The corner of Donathan's mouth tip-tilted up. He blew a kiss at Jacob Lee, the minx. “You're not so bad yourself."
"Show me how much you appreciate me later.” Jacob Lee waggled his eyebrows, making Donathan snicker. He breathed in the delicious, tangy aroma. His stomach growled. “Is there anything I can do to help?
Salad? Garlic bread?"
"Got ‘em both covered. The salad's in the fridge and the garlic bread just needs toasting.” Donathan took another contemplative taste of the sauce. “Try this and tell me what you think.” He offered Jacob Lee the wooden spoon and leaned back on the edge of the stove, his smirk giving the lie to what kind of input he really wanted.
Jacob Lee played along with due gravity, slipping the spoon between his lips. He didn't in the least have to fake his groan of pleasure at the layers of taste, tomatoes and wine and onions bursting over his tongue. “God, I love you. This is amazing."
It was like the sun shone in Donathan's eyes. “Love you, too. So much I might even let you share this feast I've prepared."
"Is that all you're gonna let me enjoy?” Jacob Lee feathered his tongue over the spoon, not at all playing fair, sucking on the wood and lavishing Donathan with his best, smokiest eat-you-up come-hither look.
"For now,” Donathan allowed, his small shiver betraying the naughty thoughts Jacob Lee could see flashing through his lover's mind. He'd hold him to those notions by and by. “I might have a few other things in mind for later. Right this moment, all I want is for you to reach me down the box of mixed rigatoni and shells, and get the crushed garlic out of the fridge."
"Garlic, yum. You know how much I love you? I'll kiss you after you've eaten a bellyful of garlic spaghetti. That's how much."
"You would, too, wouldn't you?” Donathan's expression softened. “You would, and not think twice about it."
"Damn right, I would,” Jacob Lee murmured, gauging Donathan's readiness. He could see, easy as reading the page of a book, how close Donathan was to giving him what he wanted. A nice guy would stand back and politely wait until after dinner had been served. That'd be the gentlemanly thing to do. When it came to Donathan, however, and the pressing urge to taste and to touch, Jacob Lee's scruples flew right out the window.
"Are you gonna help or not?” Donathan asked softly, licking his lower lip.
"'Course I am. Let me just do one thing first.” Jacob Lee didn't give Donathan a chance to protest or to flinch back, falling to his knees lickety-split. Before Donathan knew what was going on, Jacob Lee had untied and discarded the apron, then caught the nearly-falling-off drawstring waist of Donathan's cut-offs and drawn it down over his lean hips.
"Jacob Lee, I swear, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you."
"Are you gonna stop me?” Jacob Lee nosed and nuzzled through the crisp black curls surrounding Donathan's cock, more than half erect already and fast on its way to full hardness. He licked through to the salty skin beneath, reveling in the warmth rising from Donathan's skin. “You taste better than anything ever cooked, gorgeous."
Donathan looked as if he wanted, despite his body's demands otherwise, to chastise Jacob Lee. “Dinner's gonna burn,” he complained, but in a low, husky tone. “I mean it, hon."
"It can keep for now, can't it?” Jacob Lee murmured. He licked a quick, choppy path up Donathan's cock, deeply satisfied at Donathan's abrupt jerk of the hips and one hand seizing his head. “I'd rather start with an appetizer, anyway."
"You will be the death of me.” Donathan swatted Jacob Lee's cheek with what Jacob Lee knew to be love.
"Then you'll die happy, and so will I.” Jacob Lee lipped the head of Donathan's cock in his mouth and took a good hard suck.
Donathan didn't get back to cooking for a good few minutes, but in Jacob Lee's opinion the sauce turned out just fine regardless.
Chapter Three
"Turn on the cellar light for me, would you?” Jacob Lee called back to Donathan from where he stood halfway down the rickety old wooden steps, his arms full of hammers, boxes of ten penny nails, and a magnetic measuring tape. “Sorry, darlin'. I forgot again."
"You're lucky I love you,” Donathan ribbed. Jacob Lee listened to his lover's bare feet padding over the hardwood floors, and the creak of the pantry door opening.
"Don't know what I'd do without you,” Jacob Lee replied easily, comfortable in the truth he held to be self-evident. He knew it worked the exact same way for Donathan.
A bulb flickered into life over the stairwell. “Did that get it?” Donathan called, voice muffled from inside the deep, walk-in pantry. “Or do I need jiggle the switch some?"
"Nah, I'm good.” Jacob Lee shook his head, tickled. For some reason he had never been able to figure out, when the owners had installed up-to-date wiring in the divided-up shotgun house, their electricians seemed to have taken an almost perverse glee in mixing up which switches should have gone where.
Example: a flip-style switch on the bathroom wall lit up the bedroom. A dimmer dial for the main bedroom lights illuminated the kitchen, and so on and so forth. As far as the lights to the cellar went, he and Donathan had had to run around testing and flipping through near about all of them before they found the right one.
In the pantry.
Lord have mercy.
At least they'd found some reasonably new and tested-safe Coleman lanterns stored near the front of the cellar; the location told Jacob Lee that they hadn't been down there for more than a few years. All the same, he'd insisted on he and Donathan taking the lanterns outside to test them out. You never knew in an Aladdin's cave like the underneath of their home.
The way their landlady—a guardedly nice middle-aged type who had a sparing hand with the Avon and a preference for brown-sugar scented perfume—had told the tale, ever since the house had been constructed nearly a hundred years earlier the cellar had been where absolutely everything went into storage. Everything.
From the original owners who had some pretty intense pack-rat qualities to renters through the forties and on up, they all gave in to the urge to squirrel everything away and leave the whole kit and caboodle in the cellar when they moved on. The result was floor-to-ceiling and very nearly wall-to-wall junk. A fire hazard, their landlady claimed, and Jacob Lee well believed her.
The deal they'd struck together swung favorably in his and Donathan's direction. For every month they worked on sorting through the piles, organizing the good stuff and carting the bad out to the Dumpster, their landlady promised to give them a sweet discount on the rent.
It'd been a heftier job than they'd anticipated, seventy days in and still going, but to Jacob Lee's pleased surprise he'd ended up having two tons of fun. Sorting through the cellar was like getting a sneak peek through old photo albums. He'd make up the stories to go along with the things these folks had left behind, and Donathan would draw pictures to accompany his tales.
Jacob Lee reached the bottom of the steps and carefully fired up one of the lanterns. He took a quick scan around for snakes—you never knew, down in dark, hidden-away places like this—and didn't see any, so he hollered the all clear up to Donathan. “Are you coming down here with me tonight?"
"Thought I already went down with you before!” Donathan appeared in the door to the cellar, a long, lean silhouette that looked good enough to lick off a spoon. He leaned against the frame, slyly trailing a finger up his chest, between his nipples. “I could stand to go again. You're sure you want to start cellar work so late in the evening?"
Jacob Lee drank in the sight of his luscious man, admiring the way the light from the apartment proper cast a warm glow over Donathan's shoulders and illuminated the saturated colors in his tattoos. “Don't worry. This won't tire me out too much to give you a good going-over before you conk out."
Believe him, he planned on coming up with things to do to Donathan that they didn't write about in sex manuals.
"Besides, I thought you liked seeing me all sweaty, working hard for my living."
"Lord, yes, I do. You know I sneak down to the construction site when I can."
"Twisted little perv,” Jacob Lee said fondly. “I swear I can tell just from the change in the air when it's you ogling me from down below."
"The air, huh? Or maybe it's just practice?” Donathan purred wickedly. “I might say the same about you when you try to
sneak your lunch sandwiches in the park."
"Yeah, well.” Jacob Lee lifted his chin, daring Donathan to rib him any further, though he'd not have raised a fuss if Donathan chose that option. “Are you helping me or not?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming.” Donathan good-naturedly abandoned his attempt at seducing Jacob Lee out of the cellar. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of the jean shorts he'd switched to, he ambled down the steps. His bare feet made slap, slap noises on the boards.
Jacob Lee rewarded his lover's good behavior by swinging him off the last step and wheeling him around in a spin. Donathan yelped, kicking his feet. “You asshole!” he laughed when Jacob Lee put him down, feigning a punch to the jaw. “You almost scared the heart out of me."
"You can take your revenge later.” Jacob Lee popped Donathan lightly on the ass. “Help me remember. Where'd we leave off last time?"
Donathan scratched his jaw, his short stubble rasping deliciously. He got a spiderweb tangled in his hair when he lifted his head, which made him look ten kinds of adorable. “I came down here and opened a couple of boxes yesterday before you got home. In the far right corner, as I recall. We can probably finish over there tonight. You think?"
Jacob Lee clapped his hands together, briskly chafing the palms. “Let's do it."
"Only you would get this worked up over getting all mildew-grimy and choked by dust.” Donathan softened the gibe with a kiss to the nape of Jacob Lee's neck. “Do I have a cobweb in my hair?"
"It looks good on you.” Jacob Lee skipped ahead before Donathan could whap him one and headed for a likely-looking place to start, a pile of wooden crates so old they were like to splinter apart in a man's hands. Apple crates, from the looks of them, a faded red globe with a dim green stem just about visible every now and then if he squinted. “Did you look inside any of these yet?"
"Nuh-uh.” Donathan met back up with Jacob Lee and hip-checked him.
"Someone's feeling feisty."
"I've had a good dinner and a spectacular blow job, in reverse order. Right now, there's no pain in my life. Unless there's a spider in this web and you haven't told me."
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