Friends and Lovers (2 page)

“Yeah, that’ll be good. I’ll toss a salad, roast some potatoes, grill a couple of T-bones. I’ve got a new blues CD I think you’ll enjoy.”

“I’ll bring dessert.”

“That really isn’t necessary, Jack.” Tom raised the bottle of soda to his lips.

Jack grinned at him, a lazy, affectionate grin that not many people got to see. “Sure it is, Tom. You don’t want me to feel like a rentboy, do you?”

Tom choked on his Coke. “What do you know about rentboys, Jack?”

“Hey, I’m not completely computer illiterate; I’ve surfed the Net.” He slid out of the booth and picked up the check. “I’ll get this. Just make sure you’ve got whipped cream, okay, buddy?”

Visions of the stuff covering his nipples, striping his dick, just waiting to be licked off… “What… er… what did you have in mind?”

“It’s for your cheesecake. As I recall, you don’t like it with fruit, but you do like it with lots and lots of whipped cream.” He ruffled his friend’s fair hair, laughing at his muttered, ‘Well, shoot.’ “What did you think I wanted it for?”

Tom lassoed his rampaging imagination. “You’re bringing cheesecake?”

“Yep.”

Tom grinned at him. “I’ll whip it myself.”

If anyone had ever asked him, Jack would have said he was heterosexual to the core. Hell, he’d been married, not once, but twice, and although the marriages hadn’t lasted, he had two great kids from the first one, who’d made the misery worth while.

Oh, sure, he’d wondered about… stuff. Well, all guys were curious. Weren’t they?

He’d been stunned when Tom, the man who’d been his friend since high school, had approached him with the proposition: make love to him.

It would be a one-time deal, Tom had promised. “I’ve been emailing this dude on the West Coast,” he’d gone on to explain. “Chase is the most well-adjusted bottom I’ve ever met, and he writes stories that are down-and-dirty, cream-your-jeans hot!”

Not only had they made Tom hornier than hell, giving him many hours of solitary butt pleasure, but he’d become curious as well, curious enough to want to try it with a partner.

In the days before their ‘date,’ Jack found himself going over that conversation again and again.

Tom was the quintessential leather daddy, testosterone on the hoof, the epitome of aggression, although he never showed that side of his personality to his friend.

Jack was pretty certain Tom had no clue that he knew of all the buff young men with bubble butts who begged for his cock in their mouths or their asses.

Nothing fazed Tom, not homophobic assholes or assholes of the gay persuasion who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He was perfectly willing to beat the shit out of any of them, and more than capable in spite of his short stature.

And yet Jack had never seen his friend as nervous as when he’d asked Jack for his help, or as relieved as when Jack had said yes.

Jack did a lot of thinking about how their friendship had evolved, from that first game of shirts vs. skins when he’d done a full-body tackle of the slight sixteen-year-old, knocking the wind out of him, to the time he’d accidentally snagged a sweaty Tom’s nipple in the locker room after a game and reflexively stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking pure essence of Tom, to when Tom had stood as his best man at his second wedding, never telling him he was letting his dick make an important decision. After the ceremony Tom had slipped him a black card that read,
‘My condolences.’

And Jack started to become nervous.

Is this going to be the beginning of the end of a friendship that I value more than anything except my kids?

Half a dozen times he reached for the phone to cancel. He even got as far as dialing the first three digits of Tom’s number.
I can just tell him something came up. Yeah, Reba needs me to do something with the kids. But what?
And when he was unable to come up with a logical response,
How the fuck should I know?
he demanded of himself in irritation.

Jack hated like hell the thought of lying to his best friend, and he never completed any of the calls.

On Friday night, when Tom opened the door to let him in, greeting him with that thousand watt smile, he knew why. Tom was his best friend, who’d stood by him through the darkest times in his life. Tom trusted him, even though Jack had once been the one to turn his back on their friendship, his youthful self unable to deal with someone as unashamedly out-of-the-closet as Tom, who had faced life with the attitude, ‘This is me, and if you don’t like it, you’re cordially invited to eat dirt and die.’

But Jack had grown up, had become his own man, and if Tom was serious about being fucked by him, then he was going to do his damnedest to see that from that point on, Tom would measure every other lover he had against him, and every last one of them would come up wanting.

Jack slid the bag he was carrying under his arm and leaned a finger on Tom’s doorbell, then wiped his sweaty palm on the material that covered his thigh. In his other hand was a box that contained his offering, an amaretto cheesecake he’d done some serious finagling to obtain. He licked his lips and swallowed, then brushed his hand over his hair, trying to smooth it into some semblance of order.

Tom opened the door. He was dressed in lightweight twill trousers and a blue, open-necked shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.

Jack felt those eyes run over his body, and he tensed, but when Tom’s gaze didn’t linger on his crotch, he was startled to realize his dick was disappointed. He released a silent sigh of relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster.

“Come on in, Jack. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“You look real good, Tom.”

“Oh.” Tom actually appeared flustered by the compliment. “Thanks. So do you. Um…”

“Something sure smells good. Here.” Jack handed him the cheesecake. “Why don’t you put this in the fridge?”

“Yes. Sure. Want a beer while I’ve got the fridge opened?”

“I thought maybe this?” He held out the bag. “The clerk at the wine shop said this Zinfandel should go good with a grilled steak.”

“You bought wine?”

“Well, yeah.” Had he screwed up?

“Aw, Jack. That’s so… sweet!”

“It’s okay, then?” He overlooked the play on his name.

“Yes, it is.” Tom’s face was alight with pleasure, and he took a step toward him. Jack stood his ground. If Tom wanted to kiss him, well, he was going to let him. But Tom pulled himself up short and gave a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you go on out to the patio? The table is all set, and it will just take a second to decant the wine.”

This time Jack himself was disappointed. “Sure thing, buddy. Here. Let me take the salad.”

Jack was familiar with Tom’s backyard. When Tom had had plans drawn up to landscape the small wilderness behind his house, Jack had volunteered to lay the patio. It was a combination of pavers and cracked stone. Trellises covered with climbing, night-blooming jasmine, honeysuckle, and New Dawn roses separated it from the now-lush, manicured lawn.

He set the large wooden salad bowl on the table and lit citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes at bay, then leaned against an archway. Tonight he was going to… to fuck a man. He waited for a sense of panic to swamp him.

“Dinner’s ready, y’all. Come an’ get it.”

Jack turned to face his friend, smiling broadly. Panic was nowhere to be found.

Dinner was finished. The dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, soaking, and the charcoal in the grill was slowly burning down to glowing ash. Before them on the table were cups of coffee brewed from freshly-ground beans, and the cheesecake slathered with mounds of whipped cream.

“Mmm.” Tom’s eyes were closed in sensual bliss as he took a final bite. “How did you know I had a weakness for amaretto cheesecake?”

“C’mon, Tom. Everyone knows what a sweet tooth you have.” Jack couldn’t tear his eyes from the bit of whipped cream that clung to the corner of his friend’s mouth. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward, but Tom, his eyes still closed, was unaware, and he caught it on his tongue. Jack drew back, perturbed.

“Well,” Tom deliberately thickened his accent, “Ah thank you, ma mama thanks you, and ma sistah thanks you.”

“Well, all y’all are welcome.” Jack’s frown was hidden by a forkful of the sinfully rich dessert.

You
wanted
to lick that whipped cream off his mouth?

Yeah. Got a problem with that?

Jack started to smile.
Nope.
He really didn’t.

Tom saw the way he was looking at him. He put his coffee cup down on the table, then stood and did the same with Jack’s.

“Hey, Jack,” he said softly, holding out his hand, “why don’t we go inside and listen to some music?”

Jack entwined his fingers with his friend’s and followed him into the house.

“So that’s what they’re callin’ it these days, babe?” Jack leaned over and nuzzled the sleepy man beside him.

“Huh?” Tom blinked and stretched.

“Listening to music? I mean once you started sucking on my toes, I didn’t hear much beyond my heart pounding. And when you started tonguing my nuts…”

“Any complaints, buddy?”

“You know I have none.” Jack took Tom’s earlobe between his teeth and bit down. “What… er… what about you?”

For a second there was an odd look on his friend’s face, but then Tom grinned. “Not a one. You’ve got a dick that satisfied my every desire.”

“So… uh…”

“C’mon, dude, spill it out!”

“Will you let me spend the weekend?”

Again that odd look, and Jack felt his gut twist.
I’m not backing down. He’s my friend. He’s more than my friend, he’s my…

“You’re not gonna let me go back to sleep unless I say yes, are you?”

“Nope.”
Keep
it light, man. Don’t let him know how much this means to you. Not yet.

“Then I guess you’re staying. Now, do me a favor and go to sleep.” Tom buried his head under his pillow, and soon soft snores signaled his successful journey to the land of Nod.

Sleep didn’t come as easily to Jack.

He liked what he’d done with Tom, liked the blood-hot, snug feel of Tom around his dick, liked the sounds his friend… his lover… made as he’d plowed him into the mattress.

And after he’d come, Tom Hansom, the man who’d worn leather, rode a hog, and refused to let anyone get close to him, Tom had cried and begged his best friend to kiss him. Jack had brushed his lips over Tom’s forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and then settled them on lips that were parted with panting, desperate need.

Jack spooned behind Tom, pulling him against his groin, and his dick twitched. “Let the man sleep, Sweet Jack. We’ve got the whole weekend.”

“You… say something…, Jack?”

“No, babe.”

“Mmm...” Tom was back asleep before the last consonant left his mouth.

Jack rested his head on the pillow and stroked curious fingers over his lover’s almost hairless chest. It wasn’t anything like lying next to one of his ex-wives.

This was even better.

What they’d found together was more than a weekend fling.

It might take some doing, Tom could be a stubborn cuss. But so could he, and he had every intention of persuading Tom that come Monday, Jack was moving in.

The man Tom Hansom had in his bed was nothing like his usual twinks, and though he was tempted to forget the night’s agenda and do what he should have done the first time they’d met, when Jack took him down with a full-body tackle, he didn’t. Tom was not the night’s fucker, he was the fuckee, and he concentrated on showing his best friend a good time.

Jack Sweet couldn’t believe this. He was lying, naked, on Tom Hansom’s bed. His best friend’s bed, his
gay
best friend.

Jack was straight. He was 6’4”, a big bear of a man who dwarfed his companion.

And yet it was he, on his back, who writhed helplessly, in mindless abandon, on sheets which were quickly becoming rumpled and hot.

Strong fingers gripped his ass cheeks with bruising power, separating them. Before he could feel embarrassed at having that part of his anatomy exposed, Tom’s tongue began exploring his hole, stroking across it, probing it.

“Tom! Sweet jesus, Tom! That’s… it’s…” He had no words to describe what he was feeling, what his friend was doing to him.

Tom pulled back long enough to grin at him. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Fuck,
yeah
man!”

“Dude, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Jack was so open, so ready for what Tom was doing to him.

“Nooo!” he groaned when Tom stopped. He pulled his legs back to encourage his friend to continue.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet!” Tom dove down onto Jack’s dick and swallowed it.

“Oh, sweet… that feels… don’t stop, please don’t stop!” He shuddered as he felt Tom hum around the mouthful of pure Southern cock.