Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-two
Somewhere With You, Chapter Twenty-two
Heath has the pre-game show on and some beers on ice when Jake comes downstairs. He checks him out possessively, figures he’s got no right to talk about Will considering the way he’s feeling about Jake, but at least they are lovers of a sort. Not boyfriends though, which is what Heath really wants. He finds it odd that they can be one so easily and yet the other not at all.
Jake’s wearing some of Heath’s old jeans and a black Henley, the white collar of a t-shirt showing where the buttons are undone. His hair’s wet still and slicked back from his face, making him look older than his usual rumpled style, and Heath likes it.
The food’s still sitting on the counter in the bag where Heath left it and Jake opens the sack, looks over his shoulder. “You hungry yet or you wanna wait? I’m good either way.”
“Let’s wait then,” Heath says, dropping the remote and wandering up behind him in spite of all his promises not to touch, drawn irresistibly. He puts one hand lightly on Jake’s hip and sticks his nose in his damp hair and breathes. “You smell good.”
“I can’t take any credit for that. It’s all your stuff.”
“It smells better on you than me.” He sniffs again, forces himself to back away when what he really wants to do is put his hands all over Jake. He loves the way Jake’s body feels against his, whether they’re lying in bed, making out in the shower or just standing in the kitchen. Jake’s almost the same height as him, half an inch shorter at the most, and slim but not skinny, firm and hard in all the right places. Just being close to him fires up Heath’s need to do things he promised they didn’t have to do, so he goes to the refrigerator instead and peers inside.
“If you want a snack now, I’ve got hummus and cheese and crackers,” he offers, scanning the uncrowded shelves, seeing a shopping trip in his near future.
“I got two orders of spring rolls,” Jake says. “We can eat one now, save the other for when we eat the soup.”
“Alright.”
Jake pulls a small Styrofoam container out of the bag, along with a little tub of peanut sauce, and Heath gets two beers from the freezer, sticks the rest in the fridge, and follows him to the sofa. They eat the rolls and drink their beers and watch the commentary, not talking much, just hanging out, till Heath’s phone buzzes and he sees it’s a call from Ethan.
“Shit. I forgot to let them know I’m not coming,” he says as he answers the phone.
“Dude. Where are you?” Ethan asks, and Heath can hear sounds of the party in the background.
“Hey. Sorry, I meant to call you but I got sidetracked. I’m at home. I’m not gonna make it.”
“What the hell, man? We talked this morning and you were all set.”
“Yeah, I know, but I ran into a friend on the way over, and we decided to come back here instead.”
“You ran into a friend? On the Metro?” Ethan sounds surprised and rightfully so. The chances of bumping into someone you know on the Metro on a Sunday are almost nil.
“At a bar actually. I had some time to kill, so I stopped in for a beer…”
“Oh. So why didn’t you just bring them to the party? The more the merrier and all that, you know that’s how we roll…”
“Yeah, I know, but we just decided we were more in the mood to hang out here,” Heath says, trying to stay as noncommittal as possible even though he knows the chances of Ethan letting it go easy are almost as nil as those of him actually running into a random friend on the Metro.
“Oh ho… So, is this friend someone who might, say… stay the night, maybe? That kind of friend?” Ethan pokes, tone light but definitely curious, and Heath glances over at Jake and figures he might as well own up to that much. Maybe Ethan will take pity on him and drop the inquisition if he realizes he’s probably making things awkward.
“Uh, yeah, actually. That’s what I’m hoping for anyway.”
At that moment, Jake, who’s stared at the T.V. like he was in a trance ever since Heath’s phone rang, tips his bottle and sees that it’s almost empty. “I’m gonna get another beer. You want one?” he asks, looking right at Heath, and no way Ethan didn’t hear that.
Just as Heath’s thinking shitshitshit!!!, Ethan says, “Dude. Unless you’ve started dating the bearded lady, sounds like you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Heath shoots off the couch, turns away and stalks toward the window, muttering “Shit!” because it’s all he can think of to say. Not because he didn’t plan on telling them at some point, but because there’s no good way to explain Jake, especially not in front of Jake.
“Oh. I take it this is something we need to talk about some other time?” Ethan says and Heath is thankful for that at least.
“Yeah, that would be a true statement.”
“Ok. Well, I’ll let you get back to your date, and we’ll hook up this week sometime and you can spill your guts.”
Heath doesn’t exactly like the way that sounds. “Is this big confessional you’ve got planned gonna be a two-way thing? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’m not the only with secrets around here.” Ethan really doesn’t get to hold his feet to the fire for keeping secrets since Heath’s known he’s gay for two months and Ethan’s probably fucking married to his life partner already.
He can hear Ethan take a breath, then the party noise recedes a bit and he says, “Maybe. But it’s not just me, you know, so we’ll see. Ok?” There’s a beat of silence and then Ethan keeps talking. “And you know, if you don’t wanna tell me squat, that’s cool, man. I know I’ve got no right to ask questions. It just caught me off guard, after all the beautiful women I’ve been seeing you with all these years.”
Heath flicks the blinds, looks out into the gloom of his backyard, into the cold, stark winter landscape. “Yeah, it kinda caught me off guard too, to be honest.” He shoots a glance back toward the kitchen, where Jake is leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his middle, staring at the cabinets over the dishwasher like there might be a monster hidden up there. It’s time to go.
“Listen, I need to get back to my friend. Tell Jesse I said hello. I’ll get back with you sometime this week.”
“Yeah. Ok. Later man,” Ethan says, and they both hang up. Heath drops his phone in his pocket and keeps staring out the window for a minute, trying to figure out how to move the day forward from there without fucking himself over somehow. He doesn’t like the fact that he feels like he’s the one who’s done something wrong, when absolutely nothing has changed for Jake at all. He’s tired of feeling on the defensive with everybody.
Heath doesn’t hear Jake move till he’s right beside him. “I’m sorry, dude. I had no idea I was gonna fuck you up just by saying something.” His voice is soft and sincere and it kills the angry wind that’s stirring in Heath’s sails immediately.
“You didn’t fuck me up.” Jake rolls his eyes, like that’s an obvious lie, and Heath shakes his head. “No, seriously, I haven’t told people yet, but just because I’m still figuring things out. I’m not planning on keeping it a secret forever, and maybe the longer I do, the weirder it’ll get.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell him something.”
“Who is he?” Jake asks, turning back to the kitchen area.
“His name’s Ethan. We’ve been friends since college.” Done with beer already, Heath pulls a bottle of wine out of the rack and opens the drawer and starts rooting around for the corkscrew. “I think he’s gay too. It’s weird - I never even really thought about it till I started thinking it about myself, and now it’s practically screamingly obvious.”
“He’s not out?” Jake asks. He’s got a fresh beer so Heath gets one glass and starts to pour.
“No. He lives with his best friend, Jesse, only maybe he’s his partner and they just never said. They have a band - actually, it’s just the two of them and a guy on keyboards, but they’re pretty good, do gigs at hole-in-the-wall bars around town.”
They head back to the sofa. Just watching them, no one would know he and Jake were anything beyond friends, Heath thinks as Jake sits down towards one end of the couch and he lands at the other end.
“What kind of music do they play?” Jake turns towards him, splays one leg on the sofa and Heath’s eyes are immediately drawn right to his crotch, which looks completely innocent in Heath’s loose, faded jeans. He drops his eyes to his glass and pretends to be fascinated with that instead.
“Seventies stuff mostly - Morrison, Clapton, Jimmy Buffet, pretty eclectic, I guess.”
“Sounds cool. So you think they’re together for more reasons than just the band?”
“Yeah, I do now. They’re my age. Jesse’s actually a couple of years older. I’ve always thought they were just living this really cool life, not settling down, playing the field, but I think they’ve actually been settled down for years and I just never picked up on it.” He sips his wine, looks up at Jake, who’s watching him closely, interested. It’s the first time they’ve really talked about anyone other than themselves, except for the little blurb about Heath’s grandmother. “They used to hit on girls in the bars they played at, but it never turned into anything. I thought they were living the dream, but now… God, that must’ve been horrible.”
He thinks about Jake on his knees in that alley with that guy fucking his face, and Jake probably thinks the same thing, because he shifts back towards the T.V. and changes the direction of the conversation completely. “If you’re right about them, they’ll probably wanna start fixing you up with their gay friends. That’s always the way it goes when a guy comes out. All his friends turn into Match.com.”
“I doubt it. They’ve already done that till all their friends hate me.”
“New pool, dude. It’s a whole new ballgame now.”
Heath can’t quite get a read on how Jake feels about that. His voice has a sharp edge now, but that might be because he feels uncomfortable with the subject matter in general. Or maybe he’s worried about losing some income.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now anyway.”
Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the T.V. “How come? You obviously wanna be with somebody.”
Heath stares at the T.V. too. “I am with somebody.”
Jake sighs, drops his head back on the sofa. “Dude, this can’t be that.”
“Why not?” Heath asks.
“Duh. You know what I do for a living.”
“Yeah, and how can this be worse than that?”
“I’m not doing it for fun, Jesus. I need the money.”
“There’s other jobs,” Heath points out, frustrated.
Jake shakes his head. “I need this one. I can’t make the kinda money I need at another job, especially not in a few hours on the weekend.”
“How much do you make doing it?” Heath asks, his mind going crazy places because he wants too much to be careful.
“Too much to quit.”
“Quit and move in here. No rent, no utilities, no nothing.” Jake gapes at him for a minute and Heath doesn’t blame him. He can’t actually believe he said it either, but the words are ringing in his ears and nothing inside of him is backing away from it, even though it’s the most spontaneous thing he’s ever done. Still, it’s what he wants. The way he feels with it out there on the table, no regrets, no urge to take it all back, tells him that much.
But Jake doesn’t agree. “No way, dude,” he says, shaking his head, glaring at Heath like he’s lost his mind. “That’s a real bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because it is and you know it. Jesus, Heath, we barely even know each other.”
“Yeah, and the ways things are going now, how’s that ever going to change?”
Jake doesn’t answer, just stares him down, and Heath finally decides not to fight him on it, mostly because he’s tired of begging and also because, in his heart of hearts, he knows that Jake’s right. Wanting something and it being the right thing to do are not always the same. They haven’t even covered all the sexual bases yet, and beyond that, they’ve barely scratched the surface of getting to know each other. In most ways, they’re still strangers.
“Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Then we’ll do it this way till I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Or till you pull your head out of your ass and find somebody decent,” Jake mutters. Heath wants to call him on that too but doesn’t, just thumbs the volume up on the T.V. and lets it all go.
*****
They watch till half-time, the mood gradually easing from tense to relaxed as they complain about the terrible plays and keep a running tally on their favorite commercials. At half-time, Jake says, “I’m hungry. You ready to eat?” and when Heath nods, he goes into the kitchen to heat up their soup. Heath gets bowls and silverware and they make it back to the couch in time for the half-time show, Beyonce and Madonna and Lady Gaga doing a Mega Diva Blowout, which is pretty much the most exciting part of the whole Super Bowl production.
Just for old time’s sake, Heath tries to watch like the man he used to think he was, keeping his eyes glued to Beyonce’s amazing ass the whole time, but he gets nothing but the lamest tingle. Madonna and Lady G. rock tits like there’s no tomorrow and bring to life every single sexual innuendo that doesn’t involve actual penetration, but again, nothing. He’s sitting there wondering if maybe his dick died at some point in the afternoon and he missed the memo, but then Jake drops his spoon on the way back to the kitchen and bends over to pick it up, sticking his ass up in the air three feet from Heath’s face, and it’s all Heath can do not to jump him. Like it or not, the verdict is in and the jury’s been dismissed and is long gone. What he likes in bed absolutely isn’t up for debate anymore.
The office calls a few minutes into the third quarter and even though Heath knows he shouldn’t take it, he answers the phone anyway like the good little servant that he is. When he hangs up ten minutes later, he’s got several hours’ worth of work ahead of him that has to be done before morning.
“I’ve gotta work. I’m sorry. You can keep watching the game or do whatever you want.” Heath hopes Jake won’t decide to leave. Even if he has to work, the idea of Jake being there in the house with him softens the blow, and the thought of going to bed with him later is so much better than the prospect of going to bed alone. Even if they don’t do anything, which Heath promised they wouldn’t, he still wants the night with Jake in his bed.
Jake takes the news without a blink, and if the idea of leaving crosses his mind, he doesn’t say so. “I’ve actually got some stuff I need to do too. Do you mind if I use your wifi?”
“Help yourself. The code’s taped inside the cabinet door where the coffee cups are.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Jake wanders into the kitchen, tosses his empty beer bottle into the trash and pulls out his laptop. Heath wonders what he’s going to be working on - he didn’t get the impression that he just wanted to goof off on the internet - but he doesn’t ask. He hopes the time will come soon when he’ll feel comfortable asking Jake questions, but it isn’t here yet.
Jake gets his computer on line, then takes it back to the couch, turns the game noise down and gets to work on whatever he’s doing. Heath sets up at the small pub table in his kitchen and logs into his firm’s network. It’s dry work, nothing exciting at all about the intricate complexities of multimillion dollar estate planning. He’d much rather still be watching the game he didn’t care about, or better yet, getting lost in the complexities of the space between Jake’s thighs.
For the first fifteen minutes, work loses out to temptation as Heath’s eyes keep wandering over to where Jake’s sitting, legs spread and bare feet propped up on the coffee table. There are so many things he wants to do to him in that position, minus the jeans, of course. He’s jerked off fantasizing about it on more than one occasion, sitting in the very spot where Jake is sitting right now. It’s embarrassing how fixated on sex he’s become. He feels like a total slave to his dick after barely even noticing it for years, and it thrums and twitches and does it’s very best to distract him as he keeps glancing over at Jake.
But there’s nothing he can do about it now. For one thing, he’s promised Jake a night off from being a sex object, and for another, he’ll need a lot more than ten minutes to do everything he wants to do with Jake in that position, and ten minutes is about all the time he has to spare if he wants to get done before midnight.
Things will be different next time, he promises himself, and forces his attention back to his computer, going so far as to angle himself away from the living space so that he can’t see Jake out of the corner of his eye. His new strategy works and he eventually gets sucked in, like always, and he keeps at it steadily till finally he’s done. He looks up yawning, bleary and disoriented, to find that it’s a quarter after midnight, most of the downstairs lights are out and he’s all alone.
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Heath has the pre-game show on and some beers on ice when Jake comes downstairs. He checks him out possessively, figures he’s got no right to talk about Will considering the way he’s feeling about Jake, but at least they are lovers of a sort. Not boyfriends though, which is what Heath really wants. He finds it odd that they can be one so easily and yet the other not at all.
Jake’s wearing some of Heath’s old jeans and a black Henley, the white collar of a t-shirt showing where the buttons are undone. His hair’s wet still and slicked back from his face, making him look older than his usual rumpled style, and Heath likes it.
The food’s still sitting on the counter in the bag where Heath left it and Jake opens the sack, looks over his shoulder. “You hungry yet or you wanna wait? I’m good either way.”
“Let’s wait then,” Heath says, dropping the remote and wandering up behind him in spite of all his promises not to touch, drawn irresistibly. He puts one hand lightly on Jake’s hip and sticks his nose in his damp hair and breathes. “You smell good.”
“I can’t take any credit for that. It’s all your stuff.”
“It smells better on you than me.” He sniffs again, forces himself to back away when what he really wants to do is put his hands all over Jake. He loves the way Jake’s body feels against his, whether they’re lying in bed, making out in the shower or just standing in the kitchen. Jake’s almost the same height as him, half an inch shorter at the most, and slim but not skinny, firm and hard in all the right places. Just being close to him fires up Heath’s need to do things he promised they didn’t have to do, so he goes to the refrigerator instead and peers inside.
“If you want a snack now, I’ve got hummus and cheese and crackers,” he offers, scanning the uncrowded shelves, seeing a shopping trip in his near future.
“I got two orders of spring rolls,” Jake says. “We can eat one now, save the other for when we eat the soup.”
“Alright.”
Jake pulls a small Styrofoam container out of the bag, along with a little tub of peanut sauce, and Heath gets two beers from the freezer, sticks the rest in the fridge, and follows him to the sofa. They eat the rolls and drink their beers and watch the commentary, not talking much, just hanging out, till Heath’s phone buzzes and he sees it’s a call from Ethan.
“Shit. I forgot to let them know I’m not coming,” he says as he answers the phone.
“Dude. Where are you?” Ethan asks, and Heath can hear sounds of the party in the background.
“Hey. Sorry, I meant to call you but I got sidetracked. I’m at home. I’m not gonna make it.”
“What the hell, man? We talked this morning and you were all set.”
“Yeah, I know, but I ran into a friend on the way over, and we decided to come back here instead.”
“You ran into a friend? On the Metro?” Ethan sounds surprised and rightfully so. The chances of bumping into someone you know on the Metro on a Sunday are almost nil.
“At a bar actually. I had some time to kill, so I stopped in for a beer…”
“Oh. So why didn’t you just bring them to the party? The more the merrier and all that, you know that’s how we roll…”
“Yeah, I know, but we just decided we were more in the mood to hang out here,” Heath says, trying to stay as noncommittal as possible even though he knows the chances of Ethan letting it go easy are almost as nil as those of him actually running into a random friend on the Metro.
“Oh ho… So, is this friend someone who might, say… stay the night, maybe? That kind of friend?” Ethan pokes, tone light but definitely curious, and Heath glances over at Jake and figures he might as well own up to that much. Maybe Ethan will take pity on him and drop the inquisition if he realizes he’s probably making things awkward.
“Uh, yeah, actually. That’s what I’m hoping for anyway.”
At that moment, Jake, who’s stared at the T.V. like he was in a trance ever since Heath’s phone rang, tips his bottle and sees that it’s almost empty. “I’m gonna get another beer. You want one?” he asks, looking right at Heath, and no way Ethan didn’t hear that.
Just as Heath’s thinking shitshitshit!!!, Ethan says, “Dude. Unless you’ve started dating the bearded lady, sounds like you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Heath shoots off the couch, turns away and stalks toward the window, muttering “Shit!” because it’s all he can think of to say. Not because he didn’t plan on telling them at some point, but because there’s no good way to explain Jake, especially not in front of Jake.
“Oh. I take it this is something we need to talk about some other time?” Ethan says and Heath is thankful for that at least.
“Yeah, that would be a true statement.”
“Ok. Well, I’ll let you get back to your date, and we’ll hook up this week sometime and you can spill your guts.”
Heath doesn’t exactly like the way that sounds. “Is this big confessional you’ve got planned gonna be a two-way thing? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’m not the only with secrets around here.” Ethan really doesn’t get to hold his feet to the fire for keeping secrets since Heath’s known he’s gay for two months and Ethan’s probably fucking married to his life partner already.
He can hear Ethan take a breath, then the party noise recedes a bit and he says, “Maybe. But it’s not just me, you know, so we’ll see. Ok?” There’s a beat of silence and then Ethan keeps talking. “And you know, if you don’t wanna tell me squat, that’s cool, man. I know I’ve got no right to ask questions. It just caught me off guard, after all the beautiful women I’ve been seeing you with all these years.”
Heath flicks the blinds, looks out into the gloom of his backyard, into the cold, stark winter landscape. “Yeah, it kinda caught me off guard too, to be honest.” He shoots a glance back toward the kitchen, where Jake is leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his middle, staring at the cabinets over the dishwasher like there might be a monster hidden up there. It’s time to go.
“Listen, I need to get back to my friend. Tell Jesse I said hello. I’ll get back with you sometime this week.”
“Yeah. Ok. Later man,” Ethan says, and they both hang up. Heath drops his phone in his pocket and keeps staring out the window for a minute, trying to figure out how to move the day forward from there without fucking himself over somehow. He doesn’t like the fact that he feels like he’s the one who’s done something wrong, when absolutely nothing has changed for Jake at all. He’s tired of feeling on the defensive with everybody.
Heath doesn’t hear Jake move till he’s right beside him. “I’m sorry, dude. I had no idea I was gonna fuck you up just by saying something.” His voice is soft and sincere and it kills the angry wind that’s stirring in Heath’s sails immediately.
“You didn’t fuck me up.” Jake rolls his eyes, like that’s an obvious lie, and Heath shakes his head. “No, seriously, I haven’t told people yet, but just because I’m still figuring things out. I’m not planning on keeping it a secret forever, and maybe the longer I do, the weirder it’ll get.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Now’s as good a time as any to tell him something.”
“Who is he?” Jake asks, turning back to the kitchen area.
“His name’s Ethan. We’ve been friends since college.” Done with beer already, Heath pulls a bottle of wine out of the rack and opens the drawer and starts rooting around for the corkscrew. “I think he’s gay too. It’s weird - I never even really thought about it till I started thinking it about myself, and now it’s practically screamingly obvious.”
“He’s not out?” Jake asks. He’s got a fresh beer so Heath gets one glass and starts to pour.
“No. He lives with his best friend, Jesse, only maybe he’s his partner and they just never said. They have a band - actually, it’s just the two of them and a guy on keyboards, but they’re pretty good, do gigs at hole-in-the-wall bars around town.”
They head back to the sofa. Just watching them, no one would know he and Jake were anything beyond friends, Heath thinks as Jake sits down towards one end of the couch and he lands at the other end.
“What kind of music do they play?” Jake turns towards him, splays one leg on the sofa and Heath’s eyes are immediately drawn right to his crotch, which looks completely innocent in Heath’s loose, faded jeans. He drops his eyes to his glass and pretends to be fascinated with that instead.
“Seventies stuff mostly - Morrison, Clapton, Jimmy Buffet, pretty eclectic, I guess.”
“Sounds cool. So you think they’re together for more reasons than just the band?”
“Yeah, I do now. They’re my age. Jesse’s actually a couple of years older. I’ve always thought they were just living this really cool life, not settling down, playing the field, but I think they’ve actually been settled down for years and I just never picked up on it.” He sips his wine, looks up at Jake, who’s watching him closely, interested. It’s the first time they’ve really talked about anyone other than themselves, except for the little blurb about Heath’s grandmother. “They used to hit on girls in the bars they played at, but it never turned into anything. I thought they were living the dream, but now… God, that must’ve been horrible.”
He thinks about Jake on his knees in that alley with that guy fucking his face, and Jake probably thinks the same thing, because he shifts back towards the T.V. and changes the direction of the conversation completely. “If you’re right about them, they’ll probably wanna start fixing you up with their gay friends. That’s always the way it goes when a guy comes out. All his friends turn into Match.com.”
“I doubt it. They’ve already done that till all their friends hate me.”
“New pool, dude. It’s a whole new ballgame now.”
Heath can’t quite get a read on how Jake feels about that. His voice has a sharp edge now, but that might be because he feels uncomfortable with the subject matter in general. Or maybe he’s worried about losing some income.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now anyway.”
Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the T.V. “How come? You obviously wanna be with somebody.”
Heath stares at the T.V. too. “I am with somebody.”
Jake sighs, drops his head back on the sofa. “Dude, this can’t be that.”
“Why not?” Heath asks.
“Duh. You know what I do for a living.”
“Yeah, and how can this be worse than that?”
“I’m not doing it for fun, Jesus. I need the money.”
“There’s other jobs,” Heath points out, frustrated.
Jake shakes his head. “I need this one. I can’t make the kinda money I need at another job, especially not in a few hours on the weekend.”
“How much do you make doing it?” Heath asks, his mind going crazy places because he wants too much to be careful.
“Too much to quit.”
“Quit and move in here. No rent, no utilities, no nothing.” Jake gapes at him for a minute and Heath doesn’t blame him. He can’t actually believe he said it either, but the words are ringing in his ears and nothing inside of him is backing away from it, even though it’s the most spontaneous thing he’s ever done. Still, it’s what he wants. The way he feels with it out there on the table, no regrets, no urge to take it all back, tells him that much.
But Jake doesn’t agree. “No way, dude,” he says, shaking his head, glaring at Heath like he’s lost his mind. “That’s a real bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because it is and you know it. Jesus, Heath, we barely even know each other.”
“Yeah, and the ways things are going now, how’s that ever going to change?”
Jake doesn’t answer, just stares him down, and Heath finally decides not to fight him on it, mostly because he’s tired of begging and also because, in his heart of hearts, he knows that Jake’s right. Wanting something and it being the right thing to do are not always the same. They haven’t even covered all the sexual bases yet, and beyond that, they’ve barely scratched the surface of getting to know each other. In most ways, they’re still strangers.
“Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Then we’ll do it this way till I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Or till you pull your head out of your ass and find somebody decent,” Jake mutters. Heath wants to call him on that too but doesn’t, just thumbs the volume up on the T.V. and lets it all go.
*****
They watch till half-time, the mood gradually easing from tense to relaxed as they complain about the terrible plays and keep a running tally on their favorite commercials. At half-time, Jake says, “I’m hungry. You ready to eat?” and when Heath nods, he goes into the kitchen to heat up their soup. Heath gets bowls and silverware and they make it back to the couch in time for the half-time show, Beyonce and Madonna and Lady Gaga doing a Mega Diva Blowout, which is pretty much the most exciting part of the whole Super Bowl production.
Just for old time’s sake, Heath tries to watch like the man he used to think he was, keeping his eyes glued to Beyonce’s amazing ass the whole time, but he gets nothing but the lamest tingle. Madonna and Lady G. rock tits like there’s no tomorrow and bring to life every single sexual innuendo that doesn’t involve actual penetration, but again, nothing. He’s sitting there wondering if maybe his dick died at some point in the afternoon and he missed the memo, but then Jake drops his spoon on the way back to the kitchen and bends over to pick it up, sticking his ass up in the air three feet from Heath’s face, and it’s all Heath can do not to jump him. Like it or not, the verdict is in and the jury’s been dismissed and is long gone. What he likes in bed absolutely isn’t up for debate anymore.
The office calls a few minutes into the third quarter and even though Heath knows he shouldn’t take it, he answers the phone anyway like the good little servant that he is. When he hangs up ten minutes later, he’s got several hours’ worth of work ahead of him that has to be done before morning.
“I’ve gotta work. I’m sorry. You can keep watching the game or do whatever you want.” Heath hopes Jake won’t decide to leave. Even if he has to work, the idea of Jake being there in the house with him softens the blow, and the thought of going to bed with him later is so much better than the prospect of going to bed alone. Even if they don’t do anything, which Heath promised they wouldn’t, he still wants the night with Jake in his bed.
Jake takes the news without a blink, and if the idea of leaving crosses his mind, he doesn’t say so. “I’ve actually got some stuff I need to do too. Do you mind if I use your wifi?”
“Help yourself. The code’s taped inside the cabinet door where the coffee cups are.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Jake wanders into the kitchen, tosses his empty beer bottle into the trash and pulls out his laptop. Heath wonders what he’s going to be working on - he didn’t get the impression that he just wanted to goof off on the internet - but he doesn’t ask. He hopes the time will come soon when he’ll feel comfortable asking Jake questions, but it isn’t here yet.
Jake gets his computer on line, then takes it back to the couch, turns the game noise down and gets to work on whatever he’s doing. Heath sets up at the small pub table in his kitchen and logs into his firm’s network. It’s dry work, nothing exciting at all about the intricate complexities of multimillion dollar estate planning. He’d much rather still be watching the game he didn’t care about, or better yet, getting lost in the complexities of the space between Jake’s thighs.
For the first fifteen minutes, work loses out to temptation as Heath’s eyes keep wandering over to where Jake’s sitting, legs spread and bare feet propped up on the coffee table. There are so many things he wants to do to him in that position, minus the jeans, of course. He’s jerked off fantasizing about it on more than one occasion, sitting in the very spot where Jake is sitting right now. It’s embarrassing how fixated on sex he’s become. He feels like a total slave to his dick after barely even noticing it for years, and it thrums and twitches and does it’s very best to distract him as he keeps glancing over at Jake.
But there’s nothing he can do about it now. For one thing, he’s promised Jake a night off from being a sex object, and for another, he’ll need a lot more than ten minutes to do everything he wants to do with Jake in that position, and ten minutes is about all the time he has to spare if he wants to get done before midnight.
Things will be different next time, he promises himself, and forces his attention back to his computer, going so far as to angle himself away from the living space so that he can’t see Jake out of the corner of his eye. His new strategy works and he eventually gets sucked in, like always, and he keeps at it steadily till finally he’s done. He looks up yawning, bleary and disoriented, to find that it’s a quarter after midnight, most of the downstairs lights are out and he’s all alone.
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