Auguries of Summer

Chapter 1-3

Barefoot, with my blue jeans still dusty from the move, I walked down the long hallway that connected my bedroom to Jack’s room. Boxes were lined up against the walls. We hadn’t unpacked anything yet, except for those two plates, but I was too exhausted to mind the mess. Anyway, there would be plenty of time to organize our new place.

Cleaning was my business. What I did for a living. I was a cleaning technician.

In other words, a cleaning lady. Man.

Whatever.

It was close to midnight, and though I couldn’t wait to crash down on the mattress in my room and sleep until noon tomorrow, before I headed to bed, I wanted to check up on Jack. I knew his first night in our new home would bring mixed feelings for him. After all, he’d lived with Craig for almost a year. I couldn’t really imagine what he was feeling tonight.

My longest relationship had been with Ryan, my neighbor, and that boring thing had barely lasted three months. That had been five years ago, when I’d been twenty-two years old and still naive enough to believe I had it in me to love anyone.

Coming up on Jack’s open bedroom door, I slowed down a little. He was on the phone and talking real low to someone. I hoped it wasn’t Craig.

I poked my head in his door and Jack motioned for me to come in. He was shirtless, wearing only those skimpy white Armada boxer briefs he bought by the dozen every month. Jack had a fantastic body he obviously enjoyed flaunting for my pleasure. He was five-foot-eight, shorter than I was, much leaner, too. There was a gracefulness about him. A sensual quality I’d never had myself.

I was six-foot-three, all brawn, too bulky, and clumsy as a bear.

Jack hung up and then stared at the phone in his hand.

“Was that Craig?” I asked, already prepared to give Jack a speech about standing his ground.

“No…my mom.”

“Oh.” I leaned back on a stack of boxes that stood against the wall. “So, is she still freaking out about you moving into this neighborhood?”

Jack’s parents were both university professors living in the burbs. They all got along fine. Twice a year. Specifically: On Christmas and Jack’s birthday. For the remaining three-hundred and sixty-three days of the year, they avoided Jack. There had never been any real arguments between them all—only this ongoing cold silence full of disapproval for Jack’s life. They’d wanted their valedictorian son to pursue his studies and assume his reserved place in academia society.

But Jack had hit the road at fourteen and decided to study life instead.

“She just wanted to make sure that I know how dangerous the gay village is, and that she read somewhere in one of her lady magazines printed by the Devil’s Publishing House that seventy-four percent of gay men are HIV positive, and oh—what else—yes, that last week, a man, a poor innocent father stepped on a syringe in a park somewhere and of course, she’s sure it’s the park next to our place, which she hasn’t even seen or know the address of yet.”

I c****d a brow at him. “Yikes. She needs to get out more. The gay village isn’t all hustlers and bathhouses.”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally coming around.” Jack smiled. “And no, my mother needs to stay exactly where she is, with that big ol’ river dividing my world from her world.” He picked up the bottle of red wine that he’d left on the floor and took a swill right out of the bottle, then offered it to me. “Hey, cheers,” he said. “To being roommates.”

Obviously Jack was in a better mood. I slipped the bottle of Big House Red out of his small hand and drank, too. “Living together is gonna be cool.” I gulped another good sip of the wine and handed the bottle back to him.

“Yeah, I think so, too. Although, I do hope we don’t go all Gauguin and Van Gogh on each other by the end of the month.”

I usually didn’t get Jack’s references. His knowledge of culture, contemporary or past, was way over my head. He had a phenomenal memory and could retain information easily. I remembered the first time he’d mentioned Leonardo and Donatello to me, I thought he’d meant the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

“For a time,” Jack patiently explained, understanding I needed a little enlightenment. “Gauguin and Van Gogh—you know—the painters, lived together in Arles, France. The whole thing ended in violence and that’s when Van Gogh cut off his ear.”

I instinctively touched my left ear.

Jack took another sip of wine and laughed. “Oh, don’t be so worried. You’re definitely the Gauguin in this pair.” He tipped his head, watching me. “Hey, you look tired, Sebastien.”

I realized I was standing there, half asleep. “Yeah, I should go to bed.”

Jack set the wine bottle down on the floor and fell back against his pillow with a long sigh. “God, the last time I was this sore, was that afternoon when I was ten years old and Brody Thompson stuffed me in a truck tire and kicked me down a hill.”

I snorted. “That sounds kind of fun actually.” I looked at him a little longer. Jack’s mouth was tense. Something was up with him. I could read him like an open book. “So, uh, how are you feeling?”

He shrugged and turned on his side, facing me. “I’m fine.”

That was a typical Jack reaction, so I pushed on. “Yeah? Sure?”

“Look, it’s f****d up. Being single again after almost a year of living with someone is f****d up. I’m f****d up. The world is f****d up. You’re f****d up. But in a f****d up way, I’ll be okay. Just don’t f*****g ask me about it.”

“All f*****g right.” I laughed. “Understood.” I moved away from the boxes and leaned in over him, going in for a hug.

Or more, if he let me. I wanted him so bad, but should we cross that line again?

Slowly, Jack sat up and gently tugged at my T-shirt. “f**k it,” he said. “Come here.” He pressed his fingertip to my bottom lip. “I can’t help it, Seb. I just can’t.” He kissed my mouth, my chin. “I can’t stop myself. And please don’t ask me to.”

“It’s okay,” I said in a husky voice, not really knowing what I was saying anymore. My pulse raced and I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. “Just one more time, that’s all.”

Before I knew it, we were both grunting like mad dogs, panting and nearly ripping each other’s underwear off. Jack’s body looked like a swirl of thick white cream freshly poured over the sheets and I went down on him fast and deep, sucking him off and squeezing his balls, while he pulled my hair, his thighs crushing my shoulders. God, I adored his short and thick c**k. Loved the taste of his c*m. It only took a minute and he cried out and quivered so hard, I thought he’d break my neck with his thighs. “Oh, yes,” he groaned, rolling his head on the pillow. “Oh, Seb, you sure know what to do.”

Of course I knew what to do. I’d been listening to Jack complain or brag about his s*x life with Craig or the other idiots he’d dated for five years. I knew what he liked in bed.

Sex had never been this pressure-free for me.

I swallowed his hot c*m and kissed his trembling stomach, then looked up at him.

Jack’s blue eyes were fixed lovingly on my face.

“What?” I asked, sitting up and clearing my scratched throat. Something about the way he’d gazed at me so tenderly had triggered a defense mechanism in my heart and now all of my walls were coming up. “You look like you’re about to ask me to marry you or something,” I said.

Jack chuckled nervously “Yeah, right. And spend the rest of my life a soccer widower? No thanks.” He jerked his underwear up, not looking directly at me either. “So, do you want me to return the favor or what?” He sounded like a waiter taking my order.

“If you feel like it,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks getting red, too. Did I want a blow job from him?

I was dying for his attention.

Jack jumped out of bed and stood before me. Without warning, he shoved me back onto the mattress.

“Whoa, easy now,” I pulled him close to press my face against his neck. “You wanna get rough and tough with me?”

“You’re mine now.” He straddled my thighs. “It’s your fault,” Jack said, his wonderful mouth trailing down my chest. “You gave me a taste last week and now I want more.”

I dove my fingers into his hair and made him look at me. “But we’re not a couple. It’s like you said last time. What did you call it?”

Jack kissed the tip of my d**k and looked up. “A pleasant living arrangement?”

Oh yes, it was.