Page 37 of AJ’s Fire

“Not what I meant,” Jackson whispered. I turned back to him, freely, willingly.

I had never seen him act shy, but his eyes were on our intertwined hands as if it would hurt for him to look at me. It hurt me to look at him. “You couldn’t? You wouldn’t … How could you possibly want me, AJ? Did you … did you kiss me because you feel sorry for me? Because I got stood up?” He pulled away again, this time to go and stare at the fire. “Sad little rich boy doesn’t even know he’s queer. Can’t even find someone to hook up with. Doesn’t know what he’s doing,” he said to the flames.

Had he not heard what I’d said? Why didn’t he believe me? Maybe he was right, and I had kissed him for the wrong reason? Maybe I’d only stalked him there because I was just trying to help my best friend? I stood in the middle of that room and thought about it.

And I knew in an instant that that was not what was going on. I didn’t mean for it to sound so revelatory, but it surprised me as much as it did him when I spoke my truth. “No. That’s not it at all. I want you. For you. Not because I feel sorry for you, or because you’re suddenly gay or whatever. I want you. I think I’ve always wanted you.” He’d whipped around to look at me, and after I finished my little speech, we stood silently, both of us processing it.

The fire danced behind him, limning him in an ethereal glow. Behind me, the wind howled, and I could picture the pure white snow swirling and bright against the darkness of the night.

“I still don’t understand.” Jackson ventured a small smile, and those eyes of his danced like they housed a thousand emerald-and-amber diamonds.

My smile felt lopsided as I countered, “I fucking don’t either.” We took a cautious step toward each other until we were again face-to-face, grinning at each other like a couple of nervous teens.

“Hi,” he all but whispered. “How was your drive?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the casual pleasantry. The exact thing he would have said if he'd been expecting me to join him for a guys’ weekend at the cabin.

I slowly placed a hand on his upper arm, resting it gently there. “Snowed on and off but didn’t kick in in earnest until I got here. I think we might be snowed in for the night. Did you think to bring food?”

It was his turn to laugh. He waved a hand toward the coffee table. “Snacks for my date. Beer and wine in the fridge. You want a beer? I need a beer. I’m gonna get us ...” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen before maneuvering around me and leaving me standing in front of the fire alone.

He found me sitting on the couch, snacking on meat and cheeses. He handed me a beer and dropped down next to me. I looked at him, but he was staring at the fireplace once again. I kept my gaze on him as he put his beer down, never taking his eyes off the fire. I placed mine next to his.

“We should talk,” I ventured.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

But before I could get out more than a “’course,” he was on me. Like literally on me. In the second it took, he had reached over and straddled me, kicking the table to the point I worried about the beer bottle toppling. I watched it right itself before my eyes came to rest on him hovering above me, his hands gripping the top of the couch on either side of my head, his knees squeezing me tight but his body elevated, not resting in my lap.

“Are you sure, AJ?”

My arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, my lips meeting his like a heat-seeking missile. My tongue began to dance almost immediately, and when Jackson opened his mouth to me, all of the fire and ice that had been engulfing me coalesced and surged to my groin. I caressed his mouth, and he caressed mine, but my body sought more. I clamped my arms around him, and he awkwardly pulled his legs out until he was sitting. I slid forward, and he wrapped his legs around me, clamping me as tightly with his legs as I held him in my arms.

His hands found my hair, and he ran his fingers through it, massaging my scalp and neck. I ran mine up and down his back until that wasn’t enough, and I was pulling and tugging at the shirt underneath the fleece pullover he wore. We didn’t stop kissing for a second, and our bodies gyrated and swayed and quickly found a rhythm that had us grunting and moaning.

At long last I was able to yank Jackson’s shirt up and feel his warm skin against my calloused hands. I worried sometimes that my rough workman’s hands would be unwelcome on a woman’s skin, but Jackson leaned back into my touch with a graceful arch, taking me with him where he held tightly to my hair. The sound he let out, from the mere touch of my hands along his spine, was so debauched I couldn’t describe it.

I was sitting up straight, my throbbing dick practically trying to fight its way out of my jeans, feeling his doing the same. He pulled back, me sitting upright, our laps embracing, my hands wrapped around his shoulders.

“I want …” he began, and I wanted to answer, Anything, everything, me too, but I was too distracted by his eyes. Blown wide, they’d become a shade of luminescent green that was otherworldly. He was flushed, and thanks to me, disheveled, with his shirt and fleece shoved up.

I nodded in response. He took that as permission and jumped off me, offering me a hand to stand up. There was a beat where we just stood there, our denim-clad cocks pointing at each other, our eyes locked. The next second, he had whipped off his tops and was yanking my hoodie off as well.

We got a little stuck on that. “I got it,” I whispered before fighting my way out of the tight, FDNY sweatshirt, taking my T-shirt along with it. He clamped on my hand again and led me upstairs to the guest room I always used when we visited.

He rushed up the stairs, then slowed down as he entered the room. Slowly, still guiding me by the hand, he led me to the side of the bed until I was sitting on the edge. He took a step back and began to unbuckle his belt.

I watched for a moment before I bent down to undo the laces on my boots.

“I don’t understand any of this, AJ. I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Shhh. Jackson. You better fucking finish what you’re doing before you get all up in your head about this. You know exactly what’s happening. And so do I.” I tugged at one boot and then the other, both of them landing with a loud thunk. “Now come ’ere.”

He’d stopped mid-unzip, so I stood, and we both slowly unzipped our own pants, facing each other. I tugged my jeans and underpants down in one motion, kicking them off as I watched Jackson pull his jeans off. He’d left his boxer briefs on.

I’d seen him in a pair of underwear and even less hundreds of times before. Showered with him in the gym or at the fire hall. I’d shared the hot tub in this very house with him, sometimes with women draped all over us, sometimes just the two of us.

I’d never seen him like this, though. His dick was straining along the crease of his thigh, a wet spot marking the tip. His pale winter skin was flushed, his neck and chest red. His lips were swollen and glistening. And those eyes. Somehow like smooth amber and a verdant forest all at the same time.