Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  He couldn’t offer that, then tell James he was leaving and probably wouldn’t be back. He closed his eyes against those thoughts as he slowly sank down, basking in the feeling of James’ girth filling him, knowing every twitch in James’ cock meant he was on the edge.

  “Lord,” James gasped, his fingers tightening on Rowan’s hips. “Lord, I never… I had no idea it would…I can’t,” he stuttered.

  Rowan lifted one hand to touch James’ cheek, drawing his attention in hopes of prolonging the moment just a bit longer. His every instinct wanted to lift his hips, to bounce hard on that dick until his prostate was well-used and overstimulated. He wanted to make himself come on James’ cock alone. He wanted…

  He blinked, startled when James’ hand smacked against his mouth. “Don’t. Lord, have mercy, please. I’m so close. You can’t keep sayin’ all that.”

  Rowan had no idea he’d been talking out loud, and he nodded against James’ hand, gently pulling it away. “I’m sorry. I’m…it’s not usually like this for me.” He reached down and pinched James’ nipple, making him hiss. “I just want to feel you for another minute.”

  James nodded, his jaw tight, and he carefully moved his hand back down to Rowan’s waist. “You can move. Just…take it slow.”

  “Of course.” Rowan carefully eased his hips up, feeling the thick slide of James in his channel, then sank back down until he was all the way inside. He groaned at the little punched-out noises James was making every time Rowan shifted, and he could see the red flush creeping up his neck. Leaning in, he nipped at James’ earlobe, then whispered, “I’m going to fuck you hard. It’s okay if you come. If I don’t, you can fuck me with the dildo after.”

  James gave a frantic nod, clearly desperate, and Rowan gave up all control. He pressed his hands to the tops of James’ shoulders, rose up, then slammed down. He gave in to the frantic pace he was craving, and managed to get a hand around his dick, stroking time with his rhythm.

  “I’m…oh hell, I’m…” James breathed.

  And Rowan was too. Somehow, in spite of always needing longer, he was too. He nodded, unable to really form the words, letting the instinct of his body and James’ hands guide him up and down, his ass slapping the tops of James’ thighs. He felt the other man beneath him tense, felt his cock pulse and swell. He sat down hard, letting James’ cock press in as deep as it would go as his hand flew over his own dick.

  It felt like an eternity, but before James went soft, Rowan painted his chest with stripes of come, the white glistening against James’ dark ink. His breath was heaving in his chest, his body held up only by the arm he used to brace himself against James’ shoulder, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from the last pulses of come dripping from the tip of his dick as he held it in his hand.

  “You,” James managed, staring down at himself. “You…”

  “Yeah,” Rowan said. He let out a breathy laugh as he carefully eased himself up. It was uncomfortable, but he managed it without dislodging the condom and making too much of a mess. James was shaking a little, obviously unable to move, so Rowan got the rubber off him, tying it up and throwing it toward his bin.

  It hit the floor with a wet splat, and he flopped onto his side, his face near James’ hip. With tentative fingers, he reached out, swiping them through the mess on James’ chest, then offered them up. “Do you want to taste it?”

  James let out a faint, weak groan, and just when Rowan thought the gesture was going to be rejected, James’ hand curled around his wrist and his tongue darted out, licking up the mess. There was nothing on his face that gave away how he felt about it, but he didn’t look disgusted. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, and his hand remained tight on Rowan’s skin.

  “Okay?” Rowan chanced after a bit.

  “I think so.” James blinked a few times, then used his arms to shuffle himself downward. He propped up on one elbow, staring at Rowan who was flat on his back, and his free hand drifted out, drawing lines through his thicker chest hair. “You’re real pretty.”

  Rowan laughed, covering his face with one hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called pretty before.”

  “I dunno what else to call it,” James told him. He pushed Rowan’s hand away, tracing his features with the tips of two fingers. “Soft here, sharp here, gorgeous smile, eyes like onyx.”

  “Who knew you were poetic,” Rowan teased a bit.

  James’ face flickered through something that looked a little unpleasant, and he glanced to the side. “My seventh grade English teacher. She was…she sent home some of my work to my momma. She tried to hide it, but my daddy found the writing.”

  Rowan felt his chest tighten and he pushed himself to sit up a bit, letting James gentle explorations continue over his collarbone, down the center of his chest. “You don’t have to talk about this.”

  James shrugged. “Ain’t a secret. He put me in the field pullin’ weeds, six hours no water, no food. Damn near collapsed ‘til my momma intervened. I got a nice shiner from that one when he shoved me into the garden shed to put the tools away. Mrs. Ruben never said a word to anyone after that, when she saw me the next day. Don’t think she was too broken up about it, though. My daddy was their pastor, they all thought he was doin’ the Lord’s work.”

  “Working your kid almost to death and then giving them a black eye is not the Lord’s work,” Rowan growled. “Depending on who you ask. Spare the rod and all that. Ancient bible shit,” James said, a hint of bitterness to his voice. “I always thought if God really wanted all that, maybe I didn’t want to go to heaven anyway. Why spend all my life worshipping something that would require people hurtin’.”

  Rowan closed his eyes. He desperately wished he could understand, but his life had never been like that. Maybe no less difficult, but far different. “I wish I had something I could tell you to make this easier.”

  At that, James softened, cupping Rowan’s cheek and drawing him in for a kiss. “You don’t need to say anything, darlin’. Believe me when I say you’ve done enough for me.” They broke apart, and James settled back, letting Rowan lean against his ribs. “Guessing we don’t need that dildo now, do we?”

  Rowan chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that. I don’t have the refractory period of a teenager, but the night is still young.” He turned his head to look up into James’ eyes, and when he spoke again, he meant every word. “And I’m absolutely not ready to be done with you.”

  * * *

  “So,” James asked, hours later after they’d cleaned up and eaten, “any chance you wanna take that ride with me? Sage borrowed my bike earlier but he sent a text and said he was done.”

  Rowan blinked at the question, his eyebrows raised. “Are you asking me if I want to get on a motorcycle after all that?”

  James looked like he was fighting off a bigger grin than the smirk he was currently wearing. “Could be fun.”

  Rowan dragged a hand down his face, groaning, even as his eyes flickered to the window. It was late, but not that late, and for whatever reason, a ride sounded kind of amazing.

  Even if his ass was aching. “I haven’t done it in years. Are you sure you’d trust me?”

  James rolled closer to him, dragging the tip of his finger around Rowan’s lips. “Darlin’, I’d trust you with my life.”

  Rowan snorted. “That might be literal in this case. I meant it when I said I haven’t ridden a bike much.”

  “Ain’t that hard. The saying, like riding a bike, didn’t come from nothing,” James pointed out.

  Rowan sat up, giving him a flat look. “I think they were talking about bicycles.”

  James grinned and shrugged. “All the same to me. I trust you.”

  “Well, I’m going to remind you that this was your idea when we’re picking asphalt out of our road rash,” Rowan said, but he rolled off the bed and reached for his clothes. He stopped halfway to pulling up his trousers when James put a hand on his arm, and he looked over to see a pair of his jeans dangling from James�
�� pinched fingers. “Uh…?”

  “You’re the one who mentioned asphalt,” James said with a chuckle. “Trust me when I say those things won’t hold up to much.”

  Rowan wasn’t exactly a jeans kind of guy, but the way James was looking at him made it worth it. He ignored James’ tiny smirk as he threaded his belt through the loops, and tried not to get distracted by the heat in James’ eyes.

  James seemed overly thrilled to see him less put together, and took a moment to hold Rowan against him, his big hands cupping Rowan’s ass in his palms. “I like you like this.”

  Rowan flushed a bit and his gaze darted away. “Like what?”

  “Messy,” James said, and leaned in to kiss him softly. “Out of your element, on shaky ground.”

  “You just like to have the power,” Rowan mumbled, though he didn’t make any move to step away.

  James chuckled and pinched his chin to lift his head up, kissing him again. “I like the balance. And I like you.” Rowan’s gut twisted, but he let James pull away, their only contact their laced fingers as James led him to the living room to put shoes on. “We just gotta go pick up the bike. Sage’s been using it lately, but I think he’s takin’ a night off.”

  Rowan frowned. “Where is it?”

  “I keep it parked at the shop.” James carefully laced his boots, then took a few steps to test his balance before grabbing his keys and phone. “Until I get the thing modified, I’m lettin’ the guys have at it.” He reached a hand for Rowan, and there was no hesitation as their palms met and they made their way out to James’ truck.

  The night had a sharp chill to it, but the air was still rich with summer, and Rowan felt himself craving the open road with the wind beating at them from all sides. He didn’t know the town all that well, but he didn’t think James would have a hard time directing him.

  They got to the shop, James parking around the back, and he led the way to a little alcove where the bike was parked. He had keys on his ring, and he pulled them off, handing it over to Rowan. “You remember how to get started?”

  “I think so,” Rowan said. He felt strange and totally out of his element, but he wanted to be able to do this. Whatever this was, it had an expiration date, and he didn’t want to squander any moment James was willing to offer him.

  He got the bike rolled out of the little alley, then climbed on and started it up. It purred and rumbled beneath him, and he tested out the brake and gears, revving it a bit before nodding for James to climb on.

  James passed over two helmets, and Rowan secured his, waiting until he felt James give him a pat that they were good to go. The first roll was a little wobbly, but as they pulled out onto the main street, Rowan remembered everything he’d learned all those years ago. Having James behind him was motivation to be safe, but also a little reckless. This whole thing was reckless and so unlike him, and it was freeing.

  Fuck, he wanted it to last forever.

  “Left,” James shouted at him, gripping his waist. “Follow that road to the top of the hill.”

  Rowan nodded, then did as James asked, watching as the lights dimmed and faded as they left the town behind them. It got quiet, apart from the roar of the engine, and Rowan lost himself in the feel of James’ strong body behind him, the press of his hands, the wind on his arms.

  They finally made it to the top of the hill, and when he killed the motor, his ears rang for a few moments. He discarded his helmet and took a few wobbly steps away, James laughing as he offered a steadying arm.

  “You did great, darlin’.”

  Rowan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as James drew him closer to his chest. “Well, I’m no expert, but I didn’t kill us. Yet.”

  James snorted a laugh, but it fell short. When Rowan glanced up to see if something was wrong, he was floored by the intense way the other man was staring at him. “I,” James said, then went quiet, licking his lips.

  Rowan lifted a hand, cupping James’ cheek, and his heart thudded against his ribs as James turned his face and nuzzled his palm. “Thank you for this,” he murmured.

  James nodded, then dipped down to kiss him. It wasn’t frantic, though it wasn’t particularly soft or sweet either. There was some feeling, some emotion in it that Rowan didn’t have the words for. It terrified him and thrilled him in equal measure, and he found himself clinging to James’ sides like if he let go, the man might disappear forever.

  “We should do this again sometime,” James said. Rowan knew he wasn’t asking for commitment or promises. Just a statement that they should—even if they never got a chance to again.

  He sighed, leaning against James’ chest, letting himself be held until the night dragged out so long, they were forced to go home.

  Chapter Twelve

  James set his wrench down, swiping an arm across his forehead. He was sore in all the right places, and just a little more than distracted, but luckily the shop was dead. He was working on Tony’s Caddy, the restoration process a slow one, but good for days when James didn’t want to have to focus on anything except mindless sanding, and tightening, and hammering out dents.

  He’d sent Mike home early, and he had one ear to the door just in time to for the little bell to ring. He fought back a groan, not really in the mood to deal with customers, but that quickly changed when he saw Wyatt there, leaning against the counter. He had his cane tucked in the crook of his arm, and when he heard James walk in, his mouth turned up in a smile.

  “I hope you’re not too busy,” he said.

  “Nah. You alright?” James asked, reaching for a box of wet wipes.

  Wyatt shrugged. “Finished with my doctor and I was hoping to distract myself a little bit, if you have time.”

  James had been familiarizing Wyatt with some of the stuff he did—particularly on Tony’s car since there wasn’t anything electrical hooked up yet. It was just wheels and a body, the engine still up in the air and half done. Wyatt was something of an anomaly, though James didn’t mind it too much. Ruby introduced them after Wyatt said he was looking for a place to stay, and she knew James had the guest house for let, though he wasn’t exactly actively looking to have a stranger share his property.

  But after meeting the guy, James felt something of a kinship with him. Wyatt wasn’t very forthcoming about his past—just that he had split up from his husband and that some shit had gone down in his hometown, which left him aching to escape.

  He was mourning the loss of his decade-long relationship and his guide dog that had passed not long after, and James understood what it felt like to be floating out at sea without hope of rescue. Wyatt took some getting used to. His accent was heavy, he muttered in French, and it took him a while to remember to speak English a lot of the time. He was fussy about housekeeping, he hated eating take-out, and when he set his mind on something, he went after it with a singular determination.

  If James hadn’t had a very strict rule about dating people who depended on him for housing, he might have considered it. The guy was a lot older, but something about the grey streaks in his dark hair, and his sharp nose, and the slightly crooked eye-teeth was more than appealing. It also helped that his smile could turn anyone’s day around, no matter how bad it had been.

  It was why James didn’t begrudge Mat’s sudden attachment to his houseguest. Wyatt had been the one to suggest braille as a form of reading since Mat’s brain injury made it impossible for him to process written words. Losing his progress in med school had gutted Mat, left him a shell of the man he’d been before the accident, but with the braille, it was like someone had lit him up inside again.

  Mat was straight—as far as anyone knew, though James was starting to have doubts as he watched Mat and Wyatt together—but the guy was definitely attached. Mat was his best friend, but James would welcome anyone who could make Mat smile.

  “Let’s head back. You want my arm?” James asked, opening up the swinging door.

  Wyatt trailed his hand along the counter, then reached for James and
took ahold of his shoulder. “Busy today?”

  “Shop’s deader’n a doornail,” James said, leading him through the bay, over to Tony’s car. “Figured I’d get a jump on some body work. You interested in doing some sanding?”

  Wyatt let James’ arm go to fold up his cane, then nodded. “Just like before?”

  “Actually, I got the left side done. Workin’ on the back now. Side’s about two steps in front, you can follow it round to the back and I’ll grab what you need.” James made sure Wyatt reached the car alright—he knew the guy had some vision, but it was obviously not much. It wasn’t exactly something they talked about, but Wyatt had been seeing his eye doctor a lot more recently and he didn’t think it was going well. Reaching for the little box of sanding squares, James tucked them under his arm, then grabbed a low stool for the other man to sit on. “You feel about five inches to your left? Where it’s all rough and peeled there?”

  Wyatt’s hand explored until the found the area James was talking about. “Ouais.”

  “Go on and work that bit for a while.” James handed him the first square, then settled the stool behind him to sit. “Box is right near your left foot. I’m workin’ in this wheel, so I’m right next to you.”

  Wyatt gave him a nod, and the pair of them worked in silence for a long while. It was easy, relaxing, and although James’ head was still all twisted up in Rowan, he felt better having someone near him. “Did you stay with your friend last night?” Wyatt asked after a bit.

  James startled, nearly dropping his wrench before he looked over. “Uh. Yeah. He’s over in Denver and it didn’t seem worth the drive back so late.”

  “The lawyer, yes? For Sam’s little girl,” Wyatt said. “I’m hoping it’s going well.”

  “He seems pretty confident Sam’s not gonna lose her. Though hell, if they try anything, we’ll probably band together and high-tail it on to Mexico. You’re welcome to join.”