by Cooper West
Art spent most of his time up to his neck in the water in the shallower end, asking Diana about school and her last competition (which kept her talking a lot, since she had come in third in her class and she was still pissed off about it). Jack made more like a dolphin in the deep end, indulging in his pleasure of swimming under the water. It was also a good way to keep from fixating on the brief flashes he got of Art’s silvery-gray chest hair.
Dinner was also low-key; Maria was gone by the time they all got out and dried off, but she had left sandwich makings out on the pool bar for them, and they settled into the deck chairs, balancing plates and fresh drinks. The sunset was beautiful, all big-sky western as Jack remembered from their last trip, but decidedly warmer. Although, as night fell, he could feel the chill of the desert starting to creep up on them.
Art stood up when he was done and looked at Diana. “Josh is here at 9:00 a.m. You need to be ready to roll, so get up in time to eat and do any stretches or warm-ups before he shows.”
Diana nodded with her mouth full of sandwich. “And just to be clear: nothing rides on this but your own success. Neither Josh nor I care much if you blow this off and skate through it on your reserves. But I wouldn’t be footing Josh’s coaching bill for the week if I didn’t see something worth investing in. You’ve got potential, and experience, and if you want to move up to the next level, you’re going to listen to Josh and listen to me and bust your ass out there this week.”
Diana never stopped nodding as Art put the dinner remains in the small outdoor fridge and wished them goodnight. He sauntered back into the house, his swim trunks barely holding on to his hips, and Jack forgot to chew before he swallowed.
Diana was too distracted to make fun of him, though. He figured now was as good a time as any to let her know what the game plan was for him.
“I’m staying with Art. In his room.”
She stared at him as her brain came back down to earth. “Yeah, okay. Figured that.”
“Just letting you know. You sure you’re okay with it?” “With my brother dating Art Nichols?” She stared at him disbelievingly.
“I was more concerned that you might think he’s your boyfriend,” he joked.
She threw her towel at him, laughing in embarrassment, but gave him a hug before going up to her room. Taking a deep breath, Jack contained his happiness and walked up to Art’s room. He opened the door to find the man himself in bed with a book, wearing glasses and a battered old T-shirt. Jack had to stop for a moment at the utter domesticity of it, the way it felt like coming home. It must have shown on his face, as Art gave him a shy grin.
“Waiting for you. Didn’t know if maybe you decided to use the other room after all.” “I’m not insane.” Jack walked to the bed. He wanted to just get down to it and climb all over Art, but thought maybe he’d want to take things slowly.
Art laughed, pulling off his glasses and setting them and the book on the nightstand. He pushed the sheets back to reveal that he was wearing a pair of plain boxers, then motioned Jack closer. “C’mere.”
Jack did not need to be asked twice, and decided to risk Art’s discomfort by straddling his lap. Art grinned at him, though, and they fell back into kissing like they had not taken a two-hour break from it. Art put both hands right above Jack’s ass, at the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling him closer. Jack felt his cock start to take interest, firming up and taking up more room in his trunks, and he shifted his hips to adjust himself a little. Art laughed into their kiss.
“I have waited for this like you wouldn’t believe,” Jack said breathlessly, leaning back to start pawing at Art’s shirt, trying to drag it off of him.
“I think I would, man, I think I would.” Art pulled the shirt over his head. He surged up and pushed Jack over onto his back, and Jack was good with that, especially when Art plastered himself on top. They both stopped for a second, taking each other in.
“Glad you’re here. That texting shit was getting old,” Art said as he leaned in to start kissing and sucking on Jack’s neck.
“Oh, yeahhhhhhh…,” Jack agreed, spreading his legs to bracket Art inside of them. Art groaned a little, rolling his hips and mashing their cocks together through the material they both had on.
“Off, off, off.” Jack struggled to get a grip on Art’s boxers, trying to shove them down. “And they say romance is dead.” Art laughed, sitting back on his knees to let Jack pull down his boxers while he tugged his own shirt off. Jack wanted to get his swim trunks off but stalled at the sight of Art between his legs, naked and smiling.
“Oh, fuck,” Jack gasped, feeling dazed and off-kilter from the rush of adrenaline. “Nice to know I still got it.” Art smirked, pulling Jack’s trunks off and throwing them across the room. Jack forgave him the smirk, because he was beautiful—lightly furred all the way down, his silvery-gray chest hair turning to a dark treasure trail down to his cock, which was not incredibly long but thick and meaty with veins running up that throbbed with blood and arousal. Jack wrapped his hand around it, making Art gasp and curse. He stroked it gently a couple of times, then tugged at it like a handle.
“It’s been weeks of foreplay. Get down here.” Jack snarled with frustration. Art’s grin went even wider and brighter as he lowered himself slowly, teasingly, holding out from Jack’s grabbing hands and needy, slightly embarrassing whines. They settled together with an unexpected familiarity, bodies comfortably aligned, cocks rubbing against each other in the pressed heat between them.
“I don’t think… this is going to go on for too long,” Art gasped, braced on his elbows, and thrust his hips down, obviously trying to slow himself.
“I’m good with that. Really, really good.” Jack grabbed at Art’s firm, skinny ass and pulled, making them both groan from the friction. “Wine and dine me later. Fuck, I want, I want….” Jack’s senses went on overload as Art began sucking on his neck again, and he threw his head back, moaning in pleasure. It set off Art, who began thrusting more heavily and faster until the point they were bucking against each other, mouthing skin, their bodies taut with gathering tension. They lost the rhythm, and Jack pulled at Art so hard that his fingers slipped down between his ass cheeks, fingertips pressing into the soft skin there and barely breaching his hole. Art whined, shaking and thrusting with no pattern, and Jack felt his own orgasm crashing into him. He cried out, gasping as he came between them, moving his arms around Art’s back to hold him close as he shook apart.
Art slowed himself, kissing Jack’s face as he came down from the aftershocks, letting him settle a bit before returning to his own thrusting, slower than before but slightly harder. He ground into his own orgasm, groaning low and steady as his cock pulsed out into the mess Jack had made between them.
Jack wanted to talk about what they were doing, what the expectations were, but he was just sated and tired enough not to want to actually start talking. Art cleaned up the mess with his T-shirt and threw it aside, his movements slow and heavy with post-orgasmic pleasure, his smile lazy as he took in the sight of Jack on his bed. They curled up together under the sheets and went to sleep, and Jack figured that anything really important could wait.
ART was not happy. In three more days, Jack was heading back to the Midwest, out of reach and out of Art’s bed. He was thrilled with how the week had gone; long days centered around Diana’s training, long nights focused on sex and passion. Sometimes when Josh was being a brilliant bastard and Diana near tears, Art would abscond with Jack to a nice restaurant or bar, where they talked in complete sentences about everything under the sun. It was better than his last honeymoon, and didn’t that tell Art a lot about his life right there.
Diana visibly improved under Josh’s rarely tender hand.
Her opinion of him ranged by the hour from deep hatred to obsessive admiration, but whatever the case, her skills were increasing exponentially under his care. Art stepped in occasionally, when Josh was dragging or Diana needed a change-up in routine to keep her focused. Jack s
pent his own spare time on his laptop, fussing with his doctoral thesis and e-mails from once and future students.
Art had kept things low-key outside of the bedroom, but it was his own house and he felt fairly safe there, so the few times when Jack gave him a kiss in passing, Art went with it. All in all, it was the best of both worlds, and he was more upset about Jack’s impending departure date than anything else.
They were all breaking for lunch when Gavin exploded into the room, holding his phone out like a gun at Diana. “You!” he yelled at her angrily. Confused and terrified, Diana dropped her fork and cowered in her chair. Jack stood up, furious, and Art felt everything sliding sideways for no reason he knew.
“What the hell, Gavin?” Jack yelled. “Hold on!” Art stood up. Everyone looked at him, and it was enough of a pause to cool things down a notch. “What’s going on?” He looked at Gavin, who had turned his fury on Art.
“I told you, you son of a bitch, that this would be a public-relations nightmare if it broke like this. I warned you! So don’t lay the drop in next quarter’s profits at my feet!” “Hold it, hold it. What the fuck are you talking about?”
Gavin breathed out through his nose, closed his eyes, and counted to ten out loud. Then he opened them again, calmer but no less furious. “Little Miss Nosy there posted a picture of you and Jack swapping spit on Facebook. One of her 1,457 ‘friends’ grabbed it and now it’s ripping through the forums. Most of the skaters don’t seem to care, but at least one parents’ group is asking people to boycott our products! And the gays aren’t any better! Dan Savage, no less, thinks you are clearly a repressed, untrustworthy fag!”
“Hey, watch it!” Jack yelled at the language, but Gavin shrugged. “His words, not mine. Nothing meaner than a queen who’s been scorned, and believe me, everyone and his mother is raking you over the coals for this.” Gavin turned back to Art. “I told you, man. I told you.” Defeated, he pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. Art did the same thing.
“When?” Gavin opened his mouth, but Diana answered, her voice small and scared. “Yesterday afternoon. I posted the picture… I mean, only people on my friends list could see it! I trusted them!”
Art held out his hand for Gavin’s phone—with Jack in residence, Art had not touched his own phone in days and did not even know where it was—and looked at the picture Gavin had pulled up. It was a nice shot, and Art remembered the kiss; he had been on his way back into the house after helping coach Diana for a couple of hours, and Jack had grabbed him for a quick and dirty make-out session. Diana had apparently been right behind Art without him knowing, and the shot was clear and crisp and unmistakably Art sucking Jack’s tongue out of his mouth. He groaned.
“Am I missing something here? What the fuck?” Jack asked loudly, breaking Art’s reverie. “I told Art not to keep you sidelined. I told him that if he did not come out and proud about your relationship, it would end up getting spilled and messy. However, I was caught off guard, I admit, by our mole being your own damn sister.”
Something about the way Jack turned to him, his eyes narrowed, tipped Art to the fact that he was in deep shit. “Sidelined?” Jack snarled. Josh finally made good on his getaway, picking up his plate and making a run for the kitchen. Diana looked longingly after him, as did Art. He knew things were going to get worse before they got better.
“Not like that. I take this seriously, okay? I just wanted it out of the news.”
“You wanted me to be your dirty little secret?” Jack hissed, his golden olive skin going dark with his angry flush. “Not! Like! That! For fuck’s sake, Jack, not like that.” Art sighed and rubbed his face. “On the contrary, just the fuck like that.” Gavin crossed his arms. “Sorry, Art, but man, I told you this was a bad idea. Being in the closet is a bad idea these days, and this is why!” He waved his hand over his phone, which he had turned off. “Jack, kid, I like you, and I’m totally on board with your hot gay love for my best friend. But Art wanted me to keep this a secret, and it’s his life, so he got to make the call. As far as I’m concerned, he was selling you both down the river.”
“Don’t fucking stick your nose into this!” Art yelled, shoving a chair out of his way to get to Gavin, who stood to meet him. Art was not really planning on beating Gavin to death, but for the moment the idea had appeal.
“Hey!” Jack yelled at the top of his lungs, and everyone froze. Diana had curled up in her chair, looking very much like the child she still was, bordering on tears. Art stepped back from Gavin to cool things down, but could not turn to look at Jack.
“So the idea was to keep this all a secret?”
Art rounded on him. “You knew I was in the closet. I never said I wasn’t. It has nothing to do with you.” Jack sucked in a breath and held it for a second before replying. “Right.” He turned to Diana. “Go pack. We’re getting a hotel.”
“Fuck, Jack, don’t….” “It has everything to do with me, you son of a bitch. Being ashamed of what we are doing is being ashamed of me.” He waved a hand at Diana, who shot out of her chair and ran from the room.
“It’s not about being ashamed! Would you fucking listen to me?” “No, not right now. I’m too pissed.” Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. Art wanted to shake him, to kiss him, to explain about Phil and his father and everything, but Jack had pulled back and was not about to open up. “Gavin, could you….”
“Sure, kid. Sure. Get your things; I’ll take you to a nice hotel. Company account, all expenses paid. On Art’s tab.” Gavin picked up his phone, ignoring Art as Jack spun around and walked out.
“Way to back me up, here,” Art spit out, furious. “Don’t do this, Art. You kept me out of the divorces and that was the right thing to do. Keep me out of this.” “You’re hardly the one to talk. You’ve totally taken his side.” “Because I happen to think he’s right, and I’m not so much an asshole as to strand him and his little sister here. But I’m not getting in the middle; I’m not championing you to him or him to you. I’m being a nice guy, not playing favorites.”
“Fuck you,” Art said and left the room to go talk to Jack. Jack was in their—his—bedroom, shoving things into his duffle.
“Listen…,” Art started, holding his hands out. “No. I mean, sorry this is such a hassle for you, with the getting outed and all, but no. Not much caring about how deep and dark your closet is.”
“I’ve got reasons.” “No, you had reasons, once, a long time ago, that have nothing to do with me.” Jack angrily zipped the bag up. He turned and faced Art, his expression angry and sad. “I’m really into this. Into us. I liked where things were headed, but honestly, they weren’t really heading anywhere, were they? Not like I want, moving in together and standing sideby-side at Diana’s wedding someday… Christ, I sound like a sap. But dammit, that’s what I wanted. But I was never going to get that here, was I?”
Art stalled, caught off guard. He had not bothered to think things out or consider where they might be a year later. He had focused on Jack leaving and how soon they might see each other again, but other than that, he’d never thought about it.
Jack’s face twisted up in pain. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” He grabbed his bag and walked out, shouldering past Art hard enough to push him nearly off his feet. Art let him, stumbling a little into the middle of the room and staying there long past the time he heard Gavin’s car head out of the drive.
JACK was not the crying type, even when he really, really felt like it, and appreciated that fact as he arranged for two more days in the area to keep them busy. Las Vegas was a lot more kid-friendly than he realized, and they enjoyed a couple of meals at themed dinner shows and one very awkward lunch at a café in one of the really nice hotels where Diana spent most of her time trying to flirt with their waiter. The waiter was generously amused, Diana was flustered, and Jack was mortified; it was, on the whole, better than he could have expected given the circumstances.
Diana did not even mention Art Nichols, which, given her part in
the whole mess, was fine with Jack. She was clearly penitent, trying desperately to cheer Jack up with lame jokes about Vegas. She did not discuss skateboarding, either, which Jack thought was a little extreme on her part but did show how sincere she was in her apologies.
Art never tried to contact him, by phone call or text or email. Gavin checked in with them once a day, less to calm the waters than to check them off his to-do list, pretty obviously not interested in getting involved on the personal end of things. Something else Jack appreciated. He assured Gavin this did not change the working relationship between their companies, and left it at that.
By the time they got home, though, Jack could not ignore the fallout anymore. Avoiding it for two days did not make the scandal go away, and his business inbox was filled up with e-mails from reporters and bloggers wanting to find out the scoop. While Art Nichols was not the kind of superstar to make the cover of People, he was well known enough by the skateboarding community and the video game community for his “gay secret” to be fairly newsworthy, at least for a week or two. Jack weighed the idea of ignoring the requests for interviews, but eventually broke down and asked Gavin for advice on what to do, from the professional angle.
He ended up giving a scoop to Out Magazine, followed up by guesting on a couple of well-known queer pod casts with people who were not rabidly anti-Art Nichols. There were a few outcries from some parental communities about the “homosexual agenda” infecting a wholesome American pastime like skateboarding, which only made both Jack and Diana snort with laughter.
Still, there was no follow up from Art Nichols himself, personally or publicly. He did not give any interviews or even make a public statement. Jack could not decide if Art was hoping it would all disappear on its own, or if he just did not care either way. All Jack knew for sure was that whatever they had started between them was well and truly over.