Good Neighbors, Part 2 (sequel to my lovefest entry)
Good Neighbors, Part 2
E stood gaping at Hot Guy-Jack Twist-for a moment or two, then remembered himself and managed a smile. “Yeah, hey,” he said. “Uh . . . pleased to meet you?”
This earned him an even brighter smile from Jack. “Me too. Been thinking we should meet up in person for a while now. I’m sure we’ve got lots to talk about.” He shifted the pizza box to his other hand. “But in the meantime-you think you could let me in? This thing’s about to burn the skin off my palms.”
E stepped back hastily, waving Jack inside. “C’mon in, sorry about that. Uh . . . you wanna beer or something?”
“Yeah, I’d love one.” Jack followed E into the spotless kitchen, setting the pizza box down on the granite-topped breakfast bar and perching on one of the high stools. “So,” he said, twirling around on his stool to face the living room. “What’s your name, then?”
E felt his face grow hotter still. “E, s’what most people call me.”
“E? Your folks just stop at E? That sounds a bit minimalist to me. Either that or Sesame Street.” Jack grinned at E and dropped a slow wink.
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of an unusual name. Ennis, ever hear of it? Ennis Del Mar.” Ennis dropped his head for a moment, avoiding Jack’s open gaze, and turned to get their drinks out of the refrigerator. While he was closing the door, though, he snuck a quick peek at Jack and was rewarded with the sight of him looking back from under thick, dark eyelashes, his smile turned down a few notches from cocky to shy. Ennis came back to the breakfast bar and set Jack’s beer down, then sat down with his own. He didn’t move to open it right away, though, settling instead for picking at the label and tracing patterns in the cool beads of condensation that covered the bottle.
After several moments of silence, Jack cleared his throat and turned his stool toward Ennis, who jerked his head up to meet warm blue eyes and a cautious smile. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“Sorry.” Ennis ran one hand nervously through his hair, rumpling the dark blond curls. “Just-never been in a situation quite like this one before, I guess.” He looked at the pizza box, then back at Jack. “Not to say that I’m not . . . enjoying it, though. Nice to get to know you. Uh . . . are you ready to eat now? Or did you want to save it for later?” He quirked a smile, unable to believe his own boldness.
“Eating sounds good to me. Then-who knows?” Jack grinned back at him, and tipped his beer back to take another swallow.
Ennis pulled two plates out of the cabinet and grabbed some napkins from the counter. As he lifted the rapidly cooling pizza slices out of the box and set them on their plates, he sensed Jack’s eyes on him again and turned to look. Jack looked back, not judging, not scoping, just watching him calmly, with affection and curiosity. Ennis felt strangely comforted. He sat on the stool next to Jack and turned his attention to the food.
Ennis heard Jack shifting next to him. All at once, Jack’s hand was on his cheek, gentling along the side of his face, smoothing away the tension locked in Ennis’s jaw. Jack’s fingers stroked his skin as lightly as a summer breeze. He traced a line across Ennis’s cheek, along his jaw, and back to the nape of his neck, where he rubbed at the tight muscles there. “Ennis,” he breathed, so softly that Ennis couldn’t be sure he’d said it. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
Ennis turned then, and their eyes met with all guards down. Ennis’s lips trembled, and he felt something he hadn’t in years: tears rising unbidden to his eyes. Jack leaned toward him and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, then took his hand away and turned back to the bar.
They ate dinner in silence, making a game out of reaching across one another for more pizza and drinking from each other’s beers. When they were finished, Ennis turned to Jack and lifted one eyebrow, tipping his head toward the living room. Jack grinned and nodded.
At the entrance to the living room, Jack stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Well! So this is the place.”
Ennis frowned. “Not sure what you mean by that.” He looked around. Everything was in its place, as always. He was a habitually tidy person and preferred to keep the place in order. The dark wood of the breakfront gleamed, free from dust. The TV sat in the exact center of its appointed shelf in the entertainment center, its remote control lined up alongside it. The couch and loveseat were aligned, the coffee table covered with a spread of tasteful magazines, positioned in a carefully arranged fan. The club chair, his own favorite place to sit was-oh yeah. Pulled up to the window. Cushions in disarray. His binoculars on the windowsill. Ennis cleared his throat. “Guess I, uh, owe you-”
“No problem at all! I’m just giving you a hard time.” Jack winked at him. “I do think, though, that there’s probably a better use for that chair.”
Ennis’s shoulders sagged. He’d move it back, of course. It wasn’t all bad; it would make vacuuming easier, and-
Jack’s hand gripped his. “In a minute. Can we put on some music, do you think?”
In a fog, Ennis moved to the stereo and switched it on. His favorite album was already in the player, and he let Rufus Wainwright fill the room as he and Jack found each other on the couch.
One more chain I break
To get me closer to you
One more chain does the maker make
To keep me from bustin' through
One more notch I scratch
To keep me thinkin' of you
One more notch does the maker make
Upon my face so blue
“Yeah,” Jack said suddenly. “That’s how I’ve felt, a lot of the time.”
“What do you mean?” Ennis looked down at his own hands, clenched together in his lap. He forced them apart, then moved one closer to Jack, trying to get up the courage to touch him.
Jack sighed, then laid his hand over Ennis’s. “Like I’m always waiting for someone to come back to me, someone I really cared about, a long time ago. Problem is, I’ve not met the right person yet.” He gave Ennis a sideways glance. “Or hadn’t before today, maybe.”
Ennis squeezed his hand, unable to stop a smile from curling the corners of his mouth. “This album is one of my favorites. I listen to it all the time, didn’t know if anyone else had ever heard it.”
“I’ve got all of his stuff, actually. Went to see him in concert at the Artpark last year.” Jack turned his body toward Ennis, hitching one leg up on the couch between them so they were facing one another. “The last verse, though, always makes me think of something else. Kind of a fantasy of mine.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You know, where he says ‘only can the maker make a happy man of me’? Well, I always think of watching a baker kneading some dough, at one of those bakeries with a huge glass window in the front so you can see what he’s doing. I’m standing there while he’s making a kind of gingerbread man or something, working at his counter, but then he moves to the side, so the counter’s not in front of him anymore, and I can see the front of his apron sticking out in front. Like he’s got this massive hard-on, just unbelievable, and he sees me watching, so he gives me this smile, and lifts up the apron, and then-”
“And then what?” Ennis couldn’t stop grinning.
“And then instead of kneading the dough he starts kneading me. He makes a happy man of me. Get it? Isn’t that great?”
“Sounds like a rather pervy Pillsbury Doughboy if you ask me.” Ennis bit his lip. Thinking about hands and hard-ons was making it difficult to hide his own interest in the proceedings.
“Well . . .” Jack leaned in toward Ennis, eyes fixed on his mouth. “I was really kidding. I love that song, it always makes me sad. But you’ve got the greatest smile. I just had to see it again. Any silly story will do in a pinch.”
Ennis’s breath was thundering in his chest. He met Jack’s lips with his own and suddenly they were lying full-length, entwined together, on the couch. Jack’s groin pressed against his, and he found that it was indeed possible to grow even harder. They kissed deeply, stroking their tongues together, rubbing lips until their stubble chafed. Jack pulled back a little to run one hand under Ennis’s shirt, pulling it up so he could kiss his chest and touch his nipples. Ennis’s stomach trembled under Jack’s ministrations; he wondered if his eyes would just roll right back into his head when he finally came.
Jack sat back on his haunches for a moment, looking down at Ennis. Then he seemed to decide something and bent down again, his hands going to Ennis’s belt. He unbuckled it, pulled apart the two halves of the clasp, and pulled the belt out of its loops, laying it carefully beside him on the floor. Next he unbuttoned Ennis’s jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly so he could follow each millimeter of exposed skin with his lips. When Jack realized that Ennis hadn’t put on underwear that day, he looked up, raised both eyebrows, and went back to work with the widest smile Ennis had ever seen. Ennis found himself deliriously glad he’d made that choice this morning. Perhaps he should do laundry less often. His dick, swollen and leaking, pressed through the gaping fly. When Jack brushed his lips against the tip, it throbbed in time with his touch.
Jack slid both hands under the waistband of Ennis’s jeans, skimming them down to his calves in one smooth motion, then shifting to pull off his shoes and socks. Ennis sat up a little to pull his t-shirt over his head. When he had finally disentangled himself, he was met with the sight that he knew would outrank any other in his short but happy career as a peeping tom: Jack Twist, the neighbor-formerly-known-as-Hot-Guy, standing before him in all his naked, well-toned glory, sporting a hard-on that would have made a baker proud.
“C’mere, Pillsbury,” Ennis panted. “I’ve got some dough that needs pounding.”
Jack threw back his head and laughed, then got down on all fours and proceeded to do some kneading. Ennis thought he gave as good as he got; he kissed and sucked and licked and raised some red welts on Jack’s skin that wouldn’t be going down for quite a while. Figuring that this first time might best be labeled an information-gathering session, he gathered as much as he could. Jack liked it when Ennis sucked on the skin just behind his ears; he loved to have his nipples bitten and his back scratched and his ass slapped. But he purred like a cat when Ennis kissed a long, slow trail from the nape of his neck right down to the cleft of his buttocks. Ennis pulled his cheeks apart and quested therein, slowly at first and then more confidently, until Jack was crying out his pleasure to the walls around them.
In his turn, Jack found all of Ennis’s pleasure spots: the balls of his feet, which Jack massaged with careful fingers; the crease of his inner thigh, where Jack kissed and licked and blew a hot line right up to the treasure chest; his balls, which Jack cradled and squeezed and finally rolled around in his mouth; and his belly, which Jack rubbed in gentle circles while his mouth teased the tender skin below.
Finally they were ready, and Ennis rolled on a condom, followed by the lube that Jack produced as if by magic. He gripped Jack’s hip with one hand and smoothed the other over his ass. Jack pushed back against him, groaning. “Don’t make me wait, Ennis,” he gritted out. Ennis sucked on two of his own fingers for a moment, then slid first one and then both inside. Jack answered with a howl that made the hair on the back of Ennis’s neck stand straight up.
“Come on, do it,” Jack breathed. Ennis withdrew his fingers and replaced them with something more substantial, feeling the last tumblers on the lock of his heart clicking into place. He slid his hands around the body in his arms, pressing one against Jack’s flat belly and wrapping the other around his aching hardness.
Afterwards they lay panting on the floor. Ennis was dimly aware that he’d have to wear a turtleneck for the next few days. Either that, or nothing but a baker’s apron. Jack’s arms were around him, his body cradled tightly against Jack’s. He dozed for a few moments-or maybe an hour-feeling pleasantly exhausted and happy to be where he was, for the first time in forever.
Until Jack stirred, drew his arms away, and slowly got to his feet. Ennis froze. Was he not supposed to notice Jack leaving? Should he just pretend to be asleep? He felt suddenly sick.
“Hey,” Jack said softly, leaning down, his mouth just above Ennis’s right ear. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Ennis got up slowly, feeling muscles working whose existence he’d apparently ignored for quite some time. “What is it?”
“Here.” Jack put his arm around Ennis’s shoulders and guiding him toward the window. He sat down in the club chair, still facing out toward the blank stillness of the house next door, the starry chunk of night between their windows.
Ennis sat down in Jack’s lap and felt himself gathered up against Jack’s chest. They sat together in silence for a while, rocking a little, one of Jack’s arms wrapped around him and his free hand stroking Ennis’s stomach. “This is it?” Ennis asked.
“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “This is what I wanted you to know. See the view now? I much prefer it over here.”
E stood gaping at Hot Guy-Jack Twist-for a moment or two, then remembered himself and managed a smile. “Yeah, hey,” he said. “Uh . . . pleased to meet you?”
This earned him an even brighter smile from Jack. “Me too. Been thinking we should meet up in person for a while now. I’m sure we’ve got lots to talk about.” He shifted the pizza box to his other hand. “But in the meantime-you think you could let me in? This thing’s about to burn the skin off my palms.”
E stepped back hastily, waving Jack inside. “C’mon in, sorry about that. Uh . . . you wanna beer or something?”
“Yeah, I’d love one.” Jack followed E into the spotless kitchen, setting the pizza box down on the granite-topped breakfast bar and perching on one of the high stools. “So,” he said, twirling around on his stool to face the living room. “What’s your name, then?”
E felt his face grow hotter still. “E, s’what most people call me.”
“E? Your folks just stop at E? That sounds a bit minimalist to me. Either that or Sesame Street.” Jack grinned at E and dropped a slow wink.
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of an unusual name. Ennis, ever hear of it? Ennis Del Mar.” Ennis dropped his head for a moment, avoiding Jack’s open gaze, and turned to get their drinks out of the refrigerator. While he was closing the door, though, he snuck a quick peek at Jack and was rewarded with the sight of him looking back from under thick, dark eyelashes, his smile turned down a few notches from cocky to shy. Ennis came back to the breakfast bar and set Jack’s beer down, then sat down with his own. He didn’t move to open it right away, though, settling instead for picking at the label and tracing patterns in the cool beads of condensation that covered the bottle.
After several moments of silence, Jack cleared his throat and turned his stool toward Ennis, who jerked his head up to meet warm blue eyes and a cautious smile. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“Sorry.” Ennis ran one hand nervously through his hair, rumpling the dark blond curls. “Just-never been in a situation quite like this one before, I guess.” He looked at the pizza box, then back at Jack. “Not to say that I’m not . . . enjoying it, though. Nice to get to know you. Uh . . . are you ready to eat now? Or did you want to save it for later?” He quirked a smile, unable to believe his own boldness.
“Eating sounds good to me. Then-who knows?” Jack grinned back at him, and tipped his beer back to take another swallow.
Ennis pulled two plates out of the cabinet and grabbed some napkins from the counter. As he lifted the rapidly cooling pizza slices out of the box and set them on their plates, he sensed Jack’s eyes on him again and turned to look. Jack looked back, not judging, not scoping, just watching him calmly, with affection and curiosity. Ennis felt strangely comforted. He sat on the stool next to Jack and turned his attention to the food.
Ennis heard Jack shifting next to him. All at once, Jack’s hand was on his cheek, gentling along the side of his face, smoothing away the tension locked in Ennis’s jaw. Jack’s fingers stroked his skin as lightly as a summer breeze. He traced a line across Ennis’s cheek, along his jaw, and back to the nape of his neck, where he rubbed at the tight muscles there. “Ennis,” he breathed, so softly that Ennis couldn’t be sure he’d said it. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
Ennis turned then, and their eyes met with all guards down. Ennis’s lips trembled, and he felt something he hadn’t in years: tears rising unbidden to his eyes. Jack leaned toward him and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, then took his hand away and turned back to the bar.
They ate dinner in silence, making a game out of reaching across one another for more pizza and drinking from each other’s beers. When they were finished, Ennis turned to Jack and lifted one eyebrow, tipping his head toward the living room. Jack grinned and nodded.
At the entrance to the living room, Jack stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Well! So this is the place.”
Ennis frowned. “Not sure what you mean by that.” He looked around. Everything was in its place, as always. He was a habitually tidy person and preferred to keep the place in order. The dark wood of the breakfront gleamed, free from dust. The TV sat in the exact center of its appointed shelf in the entertainment center, its remote control lined up alongside it. The couch and loveseat were aligned, the coffee table covered with a spread of tasteful magazines, positioned in a carefully arranged fan. The club chair, his own favorite place to sit was-oh yeah. Pulled up to the window. Cushions in disarray. His binoculars on the windowsill. Ennis cleared his throat. “Guess I, uh, owe you-”
“No problem at all! I’m just giving you a hard time.” Jack winked at him. “I do think, though, that there’s probably a better use for that chair.”
Ennis’s shoulders sagged. He’d move it back, of course. It wasn’t all bad; it would make vacuuming easier, and-
Jack’s hand gripped his. “In a minute. Can we put on some music, do you think?”
In a fog, Ennis moved to the stereo and switched it on. His favorite album was already in the player, and he let Rufus Wainwright fill the room as he and Jack found each other on the couch.
One more chain I break
To get me closer to you
One more chain does the maker make
To keep me from bustin' through
One more notch I scratch
To keep me thinkin' of you
One more notch does the maker make
Upon my face so blue
“Yeah,” Jack said suddenly. “That’s how I’ve felt, a lot of the time.”
“What do you mean?” Ennis looked down at his own hands, clenched together in his lap. He forced them apart, then moved one closer to Jack, trying to get up the courage to touch him.
Jack sighed, then laid his hand over Ennis’s. “Like I’m always waiting for someone to come back to me, someone I really cared about, a long time ago. Problem is, I’ve not met the right person yet.” He gave Ennis a sideways glance. “Or hadn’t before today, maybe.”
Ennis squeezed his hand, unable to stop a smile from curling the corners of his mouth. “This album is one of my favorites. I listen to it all the time, didn’t know if anyone else had ever heard it.”
“I’ve got all of his stuff, actually. Went to see him in concert at the Artpark last year.” Jack turned his body toward Ennis, hitching one leg up on the couch between them so they were facing one another. “The last verse, though, always makes me think of something else. Kind of a fantasy of mine.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You know, where he says ‘only can the maker make a happy man of me’? Well, I always think of watching a baker kneading some dough, at one of those bakeries with a huge glass window in the front so you can see what he’s doing. I’m standing there while he’s making a kind of gingerbread man or something, working at his counter, but then he moves to the side, so the counter’s not in front of him anymore, and I can see the front of his apron sticking out in front. Like he’s got this massive hard-on, just unbelievable, and he sees me watching, so he gives me this smile, and lifts up the apron, and then-”
“And then what?” Ennis couldn’t stop grinning.
“And then instead of kneading the dough he starts kneading me. He makes a happy man of me. Get it? Isn’t that great?”
“Sounds like a rather pervy Pillsbury Doughboy if you ask me.” Ennis bit his lip. Thinking about hands and hard-ons was making it difficult to hide his own interest in the proceedings.
“Well . . .” Jack leaned in toward Ennis, eyes fixed on his mouth. “I was really kidding. I love that song, it always makes me sad. But you’ve got the greatest smile. I just had to see it again. Any silly story will do in a pinch.”
Ennis’s breath was thundering in his chest. He met Jack’s lips with his own and suddenly they were lying full-length, entwined together, on the couch. Jack’s groin pressed against his, and he found that it was indeed possible to grow even harder. They kissed deeply, stroking their tongues together, rubbing lips until their stubble chafed. Jack pulled back a little to run one hand under Ennis’s shirt, pulling it up so he could kiss his chest and touch his nipples. Ennis’s stomach trembled under Jack’s ministrations; he wondered if his eyes would just roll right back into his head when he finally came.
Jack sat back on his haunches for a moment, looking down at Ennis. Then he seemed to decide something and bent down again, his hands going to Ennis’s belt. He unbuckled it, pulled apart the two halves of the clasp, and pulled the belt out of its loops, laying it carefully beside him on the floor. Next he unbuttoned Ennis’s jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly so he could follow each millimeter of exposed skin with his lips. When Jack realized that Ennis hadn’t put on underwear that day, he looked up, raised both eyebrows, and went back to work with the widest smile Ennis had ever seen. Ennis found himself deliriously glad he’d made that choice this morning. Perhaps he should do laundry less often. His dick, swollen and leaking, pressed through the gaping fly. When Jack brushed his lips against the tip, it throbbed in time with his touch.
Jack slid both hands under the waistband of Ennis’s jeans, skimming them down to his calves in one smooth motion, then shifting to pull off his shoes and socks. Ennis sat up a little to pull his t-shirt over his head. When he had finally disentangled himself, he was met with the sight that he knew would outrank any other in his short but happy career as a peeping tom: Jack Twist, the neighbor-formerly-known-as-Hot-Guy, standing before him in all his naked, well-toned glory, sporting a hard-on that would have made a baker proud.
“C’mere, Pillsbury,” Ennis panted. “I’ve got some dough that needs pounding.”
Jack threw back his head and laughed, then got down on all fours and proceeded to do some kneading. Ennis thought he gave as good as he got; he kissed and sucked and licked and raised some red welts on Jack’s skin that wouldn’t be going down for quite a while. Figuring that this first time might best be labeled an information-gathering session, he gathered as much as he could. Jack liked it when Ennis sucked on the skin just behind his ears; he loved to have his nipples bitten and his back scratched and his ass slapped. But he purred like a cat when Ennis kissed a long, slow trail from the nape of his neck right down to the cleft of his buttocks. Ennis pulled his cheeks apart and quested therein, slowly at first and then more confidently, until Jack was crying out his pleasure to the walls around them.
In his turn, Jack found all of Ennis’s pleasure spots: the balls of his feet, which Jack massaged with careful fingers; the crease of his inner thigh, where Jack kissed and licked and blew a hot line right up to the treasure chest; his balls, which Jack cradled and squeezed and finally rolled around in his mouth; and his belly, which Jack rubbed in gentle circles while his mouth teased the tender skin below.
Finally they were ready, and Ennis rolled on a condom, followed by the lube that Jack produced as if by magic. He gripped Jack’s hip with one hand and smoothed the other over his ass. Jack pushed back against him, groaning. “Don’t make me wait, Ennis,” he gritted out. Ennis sucked on two of his own fingers for a moment, then slid first one and then both inside. Jack answered with a howl that made the hair on the back of Ennis’s neck stand straight up.
“Come on, do it,” Jack breathed. Ennis withdrew his fingers and replaced them with something more substantial, feeling the last tumblers on the lock of his heart clicking into place. He slid his hands around the body in his arms, pressing one against Jack’s flat belly and wrapping the other around his aching hardness.
Afterwards they lay panting on the floor. Ennis was dimly aware that he’d have to wear a turtleneck for the next few days. Either that, or nothing but a baker’s apron. Jack’s arms were around him, his body cradled tightly against Jack’s. He dozed for a few moments-or maybe an hour-feeling pleasantly exhausted and happy to be where he was, for the first time in forever.
Until Jack stirred, drew his arms away, and slowly got to his feet. Ennis froze. Was he not supposed to notice Jack leaving? Should he just pretend to be asleep? He felt suddenly sick.
“Hey,” Jack said softly, leaning down, his mouth just above Ennis’s right ear. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Ennis got up slowly, feeling muscles working whose existence he’d apparently ignored for quite some time. “What is it?”
“Here.” Jack put his arm around Ennis’s shoulders and guiding him toward the window. He sat down in the club chair, still facing out toward the blank stillness of the house next door, the starry chunk of night between their windows.
Ennis sat down in Jack’s lap and felt himself gathered up against Jack’s chest. They sat together in silence for a while, rocking a little, one of Jack’s arms wrapped around him and his free hand stroking Ennis’s stomach. “This is it?” Ennis asked.
“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “This is what I wanted you to know. See the view now? I much prefer it over here.”