Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-one
Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-one
Heath doesn’t care about the Super Bowl at all this year. The Dolphins aren’t in it and it rarely lives up to the hype anyway. The commercials are usually the best part of it for him, which doesn’t say one thing good about the rest of the event, but since he can go to Ethan’s and watch it or sit home alone and feel sorry for himself, he puts on his coat and heads out the door at four. He stops at the corner market and stares at the beer selection for way too long, finally grabs a six pack of Sam Adams and one of Sierra Nevada because he really doesn’t care what he drinks, then heads for the Metro. It’s starting to drizzle but it’s not supposed to freeze and the greyness of the day suits his mood perfectly.
He has to wait for the train. The station’s not very crowded and he thinks about breaking about ten different laws and drinking one of his beers but he doesn’t, just gives the homeless guy who shuffles by a few bucks and tries to remember he’s got it made regardless of whether or not he’ll be sleeping alone tonight. At least he’ll be sleeping in a bed, with a full belly and a comfortable mattress and real blankets instead of newspapers.
His destination is Woodley Park, which puts him just a few blocks from Ethan and Jesse’s house, but when the automated voice announces McPherson Square, Heath scoops up his bag and gets ready to get off, doesn’t even give himself much hell about it. Jake wasn’t at the bar on Friday night and Heath hasn’t been able to stop wondering why. He wants to know if Jake’s disappeared completely, so that he can put it away in his head and move on, and if he hasn’t, Heath wants to at least see him, just to know that he’s ok.
What he doesn’t want is a sixty dollar blow job in the alley. He wants more. If that’s not an option, he’ll do without.
*****
He can barely breathe. He tries to time it with the guy’s thrusts but dude’s got no rhythm, just stamina, and Jake can’t do shit to hurry him along because his dick’s too big for him to do anything but take it, no way to have any finesse because his mouth’s nothing but a drooling wet hole. The guy’s holding on to his ears and every fourth or fifth thrust is especially hard, banging his head into the brick wall, and if he doesn’t pass out from a concussion before it’s over he’ll be lucky.
Finally it gets worse as the guy gets closer and Jake shuts his eyes and tells himself he’s gonna make it. The dude comes at last with an ugly grunt, hammering Jake’s brains into the wall as he unloads a giant wad of jizz into Jake’s mouth. As soon as he’s done Jake pulls off, spitting a nasty mouthful into the dirty puddle by his knee. He coughs and gags and spits out another glob, then fishes a pube out of his gums. The guy laughs at him and ruffles his hair, which pisses Jake off almost beyond bearing. “Get your shit together, boy, you got a line forming back here.”
At that moment Jake can’t stand the thought of seeing another cock ever in his life so he says, “Tell him I’m closed,” and his voice sounds like somebody’s laid a load of gravel in his throat. The guy relays the message but Jake hears another voice mumble something and then dude says, “Your funeral if he bites it off,” and then he’s gone.
Jake’s hears footsteps walking his way and says again, “Forget it. I’m done!” and then Heath steps into view and Jake’s stomach heaves and he gags once, turns it into a cough and that lasts for several seconds before he gets himself under control.
Heath just stands there watching him, no expression on his face at all and his eyes are dark and empty, none of the usual hope or need or desperation Jake’s used to seeing there. Jake stands up, leans back against the brick wall, settles his shoulders there and drops his head forward, reaching up to feel if there’s a knot but nothing’s formed yet. There’s another hair in his mouth somewhere and he spits again but that doesn’t do it and damn if he’s going to pick around for it while Heath’s watching.
When Heath finally speaks, he doesn’t say one thing about any of it, just says, “Come home with me.”
Jake shakes his head immediately. “No way.”
“If you’re done here anyway, why not?” Heath pushes. “I’m not asking for…” He stalls, looks embarrassed as he tries again. “We don’t have to do anything.”
Jake shakes his head some more but he doesn’t say no. “What’s in the bag?”
“Beer.”
“Give me one.”
Heath does and Jake opens it with the wide silver band he wears only sometimes because it reminds him of a life he doesn’t have anymore. Sometimes he does wear it for the same exact reason, for encouragement, like a whip or a spur. He takes a mouthful of the beer, swishes it and spits, then does it one more time, gargles to get the bitterness out of his throat. The third sip he swallows. It’s good, not ice cold but it tastes a thousand times better than anything else he’s had in his mouth in the last hour. Heath doesn’t say a word the whole time, just watches him.
“Why’d you bring beer?”
“I was on my way somewhere else.”
“Super Bowl party?”
Heath nods. “Yeah.”
“Then how come you’re here?”
Heath just arches one eyebrow and Jake shakes his head. “I’m closed. Seriously dude, no offense, but I would hurl on you if you got your dick out right now.”
“I told you, I don’t care about that. Let’s just go back to my house and watch the game.”
“I’ve got a party I’m supposed to go to,” he says, not sure why he’s still fighting it because he doesn’t want to go home at all, where it will be loud and everybody will already be wasted and half of Will’s friends will still be there in the morning, spread out all over the furniture and the floor. He doesn’t even want to think about what Jason’s friends will be doing.
“Yeah, me too, but I can skip it.”
“Jesus, dude.”
Heath doesn’t say anything to that. Jake shuts his eyes and leans his head carefully back against the wall and tries to think himself out of this moment, tries to drum up even a speck of enthusiasm for going home or texting Emily and going to Grif’s, but all he can think about is Heath’s quiet living room and his steam shower and his big, comfortable bed, and finally he gives up. “Yeah, all right, fine. Let me get my stuff. I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”
Heath still doesn’t smile, but he nods and walks with him to the front door. Jake knows he’s fucking himself over worse than any of his johns every could, but at that moment, after the world has spent almost the entire week beating him down to nothing, he’s just not strong enough to care.
*****
Heath waits in the cold, stands a few feet from the door and watches the men going in, wonders if any of them are hoping for a few minutes of Jake’s time, wonders what he’ll do if Jake doesn’t show up soon. He almost broke a bottle across that other man’s head. It was all he could do to stand there and listen. He’d finally peeked around the corner for about three seconds, long enough to see that in spite of the horrible noises he was making, Jake’s fingers were only curled loosely into the guy’s trousers and he wasn’t trying to push him away. Nothing was happening against his will.
Heath couldn’t watch anymore after that, couldn’t even listen. Not wanting to go to jail and knowing that’s how it would end up if he didn’t walk away, he’d paced back and forth to the mouth of the alley till it was over, then made himself obnoxiously present just in case the guy wanted to go for round two. He didn’t, actually seemed pretty jovial once he was done. Heath didn’t see any money change hands, so Jake must’ve gotten paid before they got down to business because he didn’t seem angry, just ill. Watching him spit and rinse and gag and cough had made Heath ill too, but he tried to keep it all off his face because the last thing Jake needed to have to deal with was his feelings on the matter.
Just as Heath is beginning to get restless on the sidewalk and starting to wonder if Jake has taken another job or just slipped out a side door and left him, Jake comes out. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he’s wearing Heath’s coat, has his laptop bag over his shoulder and his leather jacket stuffed under his other arm and that’s good enough. Heath notices damp spots on his knees but lifts his eyes quickly and starts walking.
“Let’s get a cab,” he says, and Jake nods and falls in beside him and they walk up to the next block where there’s more traffic and cabs. Heath hails one and gives his address.
Inside, Jake rests his head on the door for a minute, then pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve gotta let Will know I’m not coming home.”
Heath wonders why he has to check in, if they’re just roommates, but Will knows what Jake does for a living so maybe he worries. He nods and turns to look out the window. There’s only so much privacy available in the back seat of a cab.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
After a minute, Jake says, “Yeah, that sounds good. So listen, y’all have fun, ok? I’m not coming home tonight.”
His voice still sounds scratchy and broken. Heath bites on his bottom lip and focuses on the dark storefronts they’re passing, downtown D.C. closed up tight on Sunday except for a few bars and convenience stores.
“No dude, you don’t need me there. It’s all done. All you have to do is heat up a couple of things and set shit out. I’m tired and I’ve got a headache. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor by staying away.”
Will keeps talking and it wears on Heath’s nerves that he won’t let him go without an argument, and it must wear on Jake too because finally he puts some heat into his worn out voice. “Dude. I’m fine, I promise. Now I gotta go. Have fun. Don’t let anybody trash my shit. Bye!” he says and hangs up, then mutters, “Jesus, he can be such a pain in my ass sometimes,” as he pockets his phone.
Heath thinks so too and wonders why, finally decides he has a right to pursue it since Jake mentioned it first. “He seems possessive. I noticed that before.”
“He is. I don’t know why.” He looks over at Heath and shakes his head, like he’s reading Heath’s mind. “I already told you it’s not like that, so don’t even go there. He’s got a girlfriend. He’s just a worrier. I think he thinks he’s responsible for me or something. Just his personality type.”
“Fine.” Heath turns back to the window and watches the grey city slide by, feels anxious even now that he’s got Jake with him. It’s good, but only a small part of what he wants. It’s not nearly enough and he’s not used to being helpless to get more when he wants more, but this time pushing won’t help. He’s got him for the day, hopefully the night too, and all he can do is make the most of it. “Do you really have a headache?”
Jake huffs. “I just got my head banged into a brick wall for twenty minutes. What do you think?”
“Twenty minutes?” Heath can barely last four minutes with his dick in Jake’s mouth. He can’t even imagine.
Jake rolls his eyes. “Dude’s fucking huge. And he’s older, in his forties I think. I guess it makes it take longer or something.”
“Christ,” Heath mutters.
“No shit,” Jake says, slumps down and lays his head back on the seat and closes his eyes. Heath leaves him be to recover on his own.
A few minutes later the cabbie turns down the street two blocks from his house and Heath sees the noodle place coming up on the right, the one with the soup that kept him alive back when he had a bad cold. “Do you like Vietnamese food? There’s a good place right up here. Or we can order pizza if you want.”
Jake stirs, looks around and sees the sign with the steaming soup bowl. “Pho sounds good.”
“Let us out here, please,” Heath says to the driver. When he pulls up at the curb, Heath hands over money and they get out and go into the restaurant. Jake seems to know his way around the menu without any help from Heath, and after a couple of minutes they place their order to go, spring rolls and two different kinds of noodle soup. They spend the ten minutes it takes the kitchen to prepare it sitting silently at a table. Jake gets his phone out and starts pushing buttons, so Heath does the same. He has an email from his mom but it’s long so he saves it to read later, when he can concentrate.
Soon their food is ready and they leave, Jake carrying the bag of food and his jacket, Heath with the strap of Jake’s laptop bag over his shoulder and the beer cradled in his other arm. Jake stays silent on the walk to Heath’s house and Heath doesn’t bother him.
*****
“You mind if I take a shower?” Jake sets the food on the counter by the stove, notices that everything is clean, not a dish or a crumb in sight. He’d be surprised if Heath had even used the kitchen since he’d cooked breakfast there last Monday.
“No, that’s fine, help yourself. If you want clean clothes, there’s stuff in the dresser. Get whatever you want,” Heath says, setting the laptop and the sack of beer down on the island.
“Thanks.” Jake pulls a beer out of the bag and heads upstairs, desperate to get away and to get all the filth of the day off of him. It’s been the shittiest week he’s had in a while and he’s not sure if having Heath show up right then was a blessing or a curse. Having to go home, or really any place where there were people, would’ve sucked, but being here, spending one more day in this place where he doesn’t belong with this guy who is going to get a clue any day and be gone, sucks even worse in its own way.
But Jake’s whole life for the last four years has been like this, mostly bad shit piled on top of fucking awful shit, with the occasional moment of decency to keep him from giving up and running home with his tail tucked between his legs. Or worse.
He knows this thing with Heath won’t last forever, but neither will all the fucked-up crap that makes up the other ninety-seven percent of his life. In eight months, give or take a few weeks, he’ll be done with school and be ready for a real job. Once he starts making a steady paycheck, he can move out of the dump he lives in, get his own place and maybe, sometime way off in the future, meet somebody and have a real, grown-up relationship. Eight months isn’t tomorrow, but it’s not forever either. There’s a tiny glow starting to shimmer dimly at the end of the tunnel. He just has to survive till then.
He turns the shower up as hot as he can stand it and lathers up with Heath’s soap. For the first minute or two, he just focuses on getting clean, but as his hands drift south, he starts to think about the last time he was in this shower, lathering up the two of them so that Heath could thigh fuck him. His cock twitches with the thought and he soaps it some more, runs his hands all around. Jake tells himself he’s just getting ready for later, because Heath loves to get his mouth down there and he wants to be clean for him, but he doesn’t stop the memories from pushing in and soon he’s hard and touching himself with intent as the good feelings take over.
He feels guilty for doing it alone but he’s thankful for anything that can push away all the darkness that’s built up inside of him, even for a little while. Heath isn’t expecting anything right away anyway, said they didn’t have to do anything at all but Jake doesn’t plan to hold him to that promise. By the time they go to bed, Heath will want it and Jake knows he’ll be ready to go again too.
He checks over his shoulder to make sure Heath hasn’t come looking for him, but he feels alone and he sees that he is. He soaps his hands again, then sets them free to roam, stroking his slick cock and massaging and tugging on his balls, drawing it out slowly as he thinks about Heath’s hands playing there, making him feel so good the last time they were together. He wonders if Heath will want to fuck tonight. They didn’t get to do it last time because fucking Conrad roughed him up too much, but he’s fine now and Jake hopes Heath wants it.
An hour ago Jake had felt sure he wouldn’t be able to stomach any kind of sex again for a while, but his dick is already telling him differently, standing up tall and ready under his hands. What he’d been doing in that alley wasn’t sex anyway, at least not for him, but what he does here at Heath’s house is. He strokes faster as he brings up the memory of the one time they did the deed, the look of surprised pleasure on Heath’s face when he slid in and finally figured out what he’d been missing all his life. It had been the best sex Jake had had in years too, and he wants it again, even if it is a just-for-now thing. This moment is all he’s guaranteed anyway, so he might as well make the most of it.
When he comes, it’s good, but the relief is tinged with an emptiness that’s been haunting him more and more these days, and his shoulders slump with something that feels a lot like loneliness as the water washes over him and his pleasure fades away.
keep reading here: http://whiskiegurl.livejournal.com/21053.html
Heath doesn’t care about the Super Bowl at all this year. The Dolphins aren’t in it and it rarely lives up to the hype anyway. The commercials are usually the best part of it for him, which doesn’t say one thing good about the rest of the event, but since he can go to Ethan’s and watch it or sit home alone and feel sorry for himself, he puts on his coat and heads out the door at four. He stops at the corner market and stares at the beer selection for way too long, finally grabs a six pack of Sam Adams and one of Sierra Nevada because he really doesn’t care what he drinks, then heads for the Metro. It’s starting to drizzle but it’s not supposed to freeze and the greyness of the day suits his mood perfectly.
He has to wait for the train. The station’s not very crowded and he thinks about breaking about ten different laws and drinking one of his beers but he doesn’t, just gives the homeless guy who shuffles by a few bucks and tries to remember he’s got it made regardless of whether or not he’ll be sleeping alone tonight. At least he’ll be sleeping in a bed, with a full belly and a comfortable mattress and real blankets instead of newspapers.
His destination is Woodley Park, which puts him just a few blocks from Ethan and Jesse’s house, but when the automated voice announces McPherson Square, Heath scoops up his bag and gets ready to get off, doesn’t even give himself much hell about it. Jake wasn’t at the bar on Friday night and Heath hasn’t been able to stop wondering why. He wants to know if Jake’s disappeared completely, so that he can put it away in his head and move on, and if he hasn’t, Heath wants to at least see him, just to know that he’s ok.
What he doesn’t want is a sixty dollar blow job in the alley. He wants more. If that’s not an option, he’ll do without.
*****
He can barely breathe. He tries to time it with the guy’s thrusts but dude’s got no rhythm, just stamina, and Jake can’t do shit to hurry him along because his dick’s too big for him to do anything but take it, no way to have any finesse because his mouth’s nothing but a drooling wet hole. The guy’s holding on to his ears and every fourth or fifth thrust is especially hard, banging his head into the brick wall, and if he doesn’t pass out from a concussion before it’s over he’ll be lucky.
Finally it gets worse as the guy gets closer and Jake shuts his eyes and tells himself he’s gonna make it. The dude comes at last with an ugly grunt, hammering Jake’s brains into the wall as he unloads a giant wad of jizz into Jake’s mouth. As soon as he’s done Jake pulls off, spitting a nasty mouthful into the dirty puddle by his knee. He coughs and gags and spits out another glob, then fishes a pube out of his gums. The guy laughs at him and ruffles his hair, which pisses Jake off almost beyond bearing. “Get your shit together, boy, you got a line forming back here.”
At that moment Jake can’t stand the thought of seeing another cock ever in his life so he says, “Tell him I’m closed,” and his voice sounds like somebody’s laid a load of gravel in his throat. The guy relays the message but Jake hears another voice mumble something and then dude says, “Your funeral if he bites it off,” and then he’s gone.
Jake’s hears footsteps walking his way and says again, “Forget it. I’m done!” and then Heath steps into view and Jake’s stomach heaves and he gags once, turns it into a cough and that lasts for several seconds before he gets himself under control.
Heath just stands there watching him, no expression on his face at all and his eyes are dark and empty, none of the usual hope or need or desperation Jake’s used to seeing there. Jake stands up, leans back against the brick wall, settles his shoulders there and drops his head forward, reaching up to feel if there’s a knot but nothing’s formed yet. There’s another hair in his mouth somewhere and he spits again but that doesn’t do it and damn if he’s going to pick around for it while Heath’s watching.
When Heath finally speaks, he doesn’t say one thing about any of it, just says, “Come home with me.”
Jake shakes his head immediately. “No way.”
“If you’re done here anyway, why not?” Heath pushes. “I’m not asking for…” He stalls, looks embarrassed as he tries again. “We don’t have to do anything.”
Jake shakes his head some more but he doesn’t say no. “What’s in the bag?”
“Beer.”
“Give me one.”
Heath does and Jake opens it with the wide silver band he wears only sometimes because it reminds him of a life he doesn’t have anymore. Sometimes he does wear it for the same exact reason, for encouragement, like a whip or a spur. He takes a mouthful of the beer, swishes it and spits, then does it one more time, gargles to get the bitterness out of his throat. The third sip he swallows. It’s good, not ice cold but it tastes a thousand times better than anything else he’s had in his mouth in the last hour. Heath doesn’t say a word the whole time, just watches him.
“Why’d you bring beer?”
“I was on my way somewhere else.”
“Super Bowl party?”
Heath nods. “Yeah.”
“Then how come you’re here?”
Heath just arches one eyebrow and Jake shakes his head. “I’m closed. Seriously dude, no offense, but I would hurl on you if you got your dick out right now.”
“I told you, I don’t care about that. Let’s just go back to my house and watch the game.”
“I’ve got a party I’m supposed to go to,” he says, not sure why he’s still fighting it because he doesn’t want to go home at all, where it will be loud and everybody will already be wasted and half of Will’s friends will still be there in the morning, spread out all over the furniture and the floor. He doesn’t even want to think about what Jason’s friends will be doing.
“Yeah, me too, but I can skip it.”
“Jesus, dude.”
Heath doesn’t say anything to that. Jake shuts his eyes and leans his head carefully back against the wall and tries to think himself out of this moment, tries to drum up even a speck of enthusiasm for going home or texting Emily and going to Grif’s, but all he can think about is Heath’s quiet living room and his steam shower and his big, comfortable bed, and finally he gives up. “Yeah, all right, fine. Let me get my stuff. I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”
Heath still doesn’t smile, but he nods and walks with him to the front door. Jake knows he’s fucking himself over worse than any of his johns every could, but at that moment, after the world has spent almost the entire week beating him down to nothing, he’s just not strong enough to care.
*****
Heath waits in the cold, stands a few feet from the door and watches the men going in, wonders if any of them are hoping for a few minutes of Jake’s time, wonders what he’ll do if Jake doesn’t show up soon. He almost broke a bottle across that other man’s head. It was all he could do to stand there and listen. He’d finally peeked around the corner for about three seconds, long enough to see that in spite of the horrible noises he was making, Jake’s fingers were only curled loosely into the guy’s trousers and he wasn’t trying to push him away. Nothing was happening against his will.
Heath couldn’t watch anymore after that, couldn’t even listen. Not wanting to go to jail and knowing that’s how it would end up if he didn’t walk away, he’d paced back and forth to the mouth of the alley till it was over, then made himself obnoxiously present just in case the guy wanted to go for round two. He didn’t, actually seemed pretty jovial once he was done. Heath didn’t see any money change hands, so Jake must’ve gotten paid before they got down to business because he didn’t seem angry, just ill. Watching him spit and rinse and gag and cough had made Heath ill too, but he tried to keep it all off his face because the last thing Jake needed to have to deal with was his feelings on the matter.
Just as Heath is beginning to get restless on the sidewalk and starting to wonder if Jake has taken another job or just slipped out a side door and left him, Jake comes out. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he’s wearing Heath’s coat, has his laptop bag over his shoulder and his leather jacket stuffed under his other arm and that’s good enough. Heath notices damp spots on his knees but lifts his eyes quickly and starts walking.
“Let’s get a cab,” he says, and Jake nods and falls in beside him and they walk up to the next block where there’s more traffic and cabs. Heath hails one and gives his address.
Inside, Jake rests his head on the door for a minute, then pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve gotta let Will know I’m not coming home.”
Heath wonders why he has to check in, if they’re just roommates, but Will knows what Jake does for a living so maybe he worries. He nods and turns to look out the window. There’s only so much privacy available in the back seat of a cab.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
After a minute, Jake says, “Yeah, that sounds good. So listen, y’all have fun, ok? I’m not coming home tonight.”
His voice still sounds scratchy and broken. Heath bites on his bottom lip and focuses on the dark storefronts they’re passing, downtown D.C. closed up tight on Sunday except for a few bars and convenience stores.
“No dude, you don’t need me there. It’s all done. All you have to do is heat up a couple of things and set shit out. I’m tired and I’ve got a headache. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor by staying away.”
Will keeps talking and it wears on Heath’s nerves that he won’t let him go without an argument, and it must wear on Jake too because finally he puts some heat into his worn out voice. “Dude. I’m fine, I promise. Now I gotta go. Have fun. Don’t let anybody trash my shit. Bye!” he says and hangs up, then mutters, “Jesus, he can be such a pain in my ass sometimes,” as he pockets his phone.
Heath thinks so too and wonders why, finally decides he has a right to pursue it since Jake mentioned it first. “He seems possessive. I noticed that before.”
“He is. I don’t know why.” He looks over at Heath and shakes his head, like he’s reading Heath’s mind. “I already told you it’s not like that, so don’t even go there. He’s got a girlfriend. He’s just a worrier. I think he thinks he’s responsible for me or something. Just his personality type.”
“Fine.” Heath turns back to the window and watches the grey city slide by, feels anxious even now that he’s got Jake with him. It’s good, but only a small part of what he wants. It’s not nearly enough and he’s not used to being helpless to get more when he wants more, but this time pushing won’t help. He’s got him for the day, hopefully the night too, and all he can do is make the most of it. “Do you really have a headache?”
Jake huffs. “I just got my head banged into a brick wall for twenty minutes. What do you think?”
“Twenty minutes?” Heath can barely last four minutes with his dick in Jake’s mouth. He can’t even imagine.
Jake rolls his eyes. “Dude’s fucking huge. And he’s older, in his forties I think. I guess it makes it take longer or something.”
“Christ,” Heath mutters.
“No shit,” Jake says, slumps down and lays his head back on the seat and closes his eyes. Heath leaves him be to recover on his own.
A few minutes later the cabbie turns down the street two blocks from his house and Heath sees the noodle place coming up on the right, the one with the soup that kept him alive back when he had a bad cold. “Do you like Vietnamese food? There’s a good place right up here. Or we can order pizza if you want.”
Jake stirs, looks around and sees the sign with the steaming soup bowl. “Pho sounds good.”
“Let us out here, please,” Heath says to the driver. When he pulls up at the curb, Heath hands over money and they get out and go into the restaurant. Jake seems to know his way around the menu without any help from Heath, and after a couple of minutes they place their order to go, spring rolls and two different kinds of noodle soup. They spend the ten minutes it takes the kitchen to prepare it sitting silently at a table. Jake gets his phone out and starts pushing buttons, so Heath does the same. He has an email from his mom but it’s long so he saves it to read later, when he can concentrate.
Soon their food is ready and they leave, Jake carrying the bag of food and his jacket, Heath with the strap of Jake’s laptop bag over his shoulder and the beer cradled in his other arm. Jake stays silent on the walk to Heath’s house and Heath doesn’t bother him.
*****
“You mind if I take a shower?” Jake sets the food on the counter by the stove, notices that everything is clean, not a dish or a crumb in sight. He’d be surprised if Heath had even used the kitchen since he’d cooked breakfast there last Monday.
“No, that’s fine, help yourself. If you want clean clothes, there’s stuff in the dresser. Get whatever you want,” Heath says, setting the laptop and the sack of beer down on the island.
“Thanks.” Jake pulls a beer out of the bag and heads upstairs, desperate to get away and to get all the filth of the day off of him. It’s been the shittiest week he’s had in a while and he’s not sure if having Heath show up right then was a blessing or a curse. Having to go home, or really any place where there were people, would’ve sucked, but being here, spending one more day in this place where he doesn’t belong with this guy who is going to get a clue any day and be gone, sucks even worse in its own way.
But Jake’s whole life for the last four years has been like this, mostly bad shit piled on top of fucking awful shit, with the occasional moment of decency to keep him from giving up and running home with his tail tucked between his legs. Or worse.
He knows this thing with Heath won’t last forever, but neither will all the fucked-up crap that makes up the other ninety-seven percent of his life. In eight months, give or take a few weeks, he’ll be done with school and be ready for a real job. Once he starts making a steady paycheck, he can move out of the dump he lives in, get his own place and maybe, sometime way off in the future, meet somebody and have a real, grown-up relationship. Eight months isn’t tomorrow, but it’s not forever either. There’s a tiny glow starting to shimmer dimly at the end of the tunnel. He just has to survive till then.
He turns the shower up as hot as he can stand it and lathers up with Heath’s soap. For the first minute or two, he just focuses on getting clean, but as his hands drift south, he starts to think about the last time he was in this shower, lathering up the two of them so that Heath could thigh fuck him. His cock twitches with the thought and he soaps it some more, runs his hands all around. Jake tells himself he’s just getting ready for later, because Heath loves to get his mouth down there and he wants to be clean for him, but he doesn’t stop the memories from pushing in and soon he’s hard and touching himself with intent as the good feelings take over.
He feels guilty for doing it alone but he’s thankful for anything that can push away all the darkness that’s built up inside of him, even for a little while. Heath isn’t expecting anything right away anyway, said they didn’t have to do anything at all but Jake doesn’t plan to hold him to that promise. By the time they go to bed, Heath will want it and Jake knows he’ll be ready to go again too.
He checks over his shoulder to make sure Heath hasn’t come looking for him, but he feels alone and he sees that he is. He soaps his hands again, then sets them free to roam, stroking his slick cock and massaging and tugging on his balls, drawing it out slowly as he thinks about Heath’s hands playing there, making him feel so good the last time they were together. He wonders if Heath will want to fuck tonight. They didn’t get to do it last time because fucking Conrad roughed him up too much, but he’s fine now and Jake hopes Heath wants it.
An hour ago Jake had felt sure he wouldn’t be able to stomach any kind of sex again for a while, but his dick is already telling him differently, standing up tall and ready under his hands. What he’d been doing in that alley wasn’t sex anyway, at least not for him, but what he does here at Heath’s house is. He strokes faster as he brings up the memory of the one time they did the deed, the look of surprised pleasure on Heath’s face when he slid in and finally figured out what he’d been missing all his life. It had been the best sex Jake had had in years too, and he wants it again, even if it is a just-for-now thing. This moment is all he’s guaranteed anyway, so he might as well make the most of it.
When he comes, it’s good, but the relief is tinged with an emptiness that’s been haunting him more and more these days, and his shoulders slump with something that feels a lot like loneliness as the water washes over him and his pleasure fades away.
keep reading here: http://whiskiegurl.livejournal.com/21053.html