Empty Nests (18 page)

Gabe smiled and made a content humming noise. He slid his fingers between Gabe’s but let Gabe set the pace. Gabe started to speed up, then suddenly slipped his hand out from under James’s. James kept going as Gabe moaned and thrust up into his hand. He watched as Gabe’s cock shifted to a darker red, darker than his own ever became, and as he stroked, he felt it twitch and jump in his hand.

“Little faster, please,” Gabe asked, a high whine in his voice.

He sped up, but he only had to give a few strokes before Gabe’s cock jerked violently. Suddenly semen was pouring out the top and over James’s fingers. Gabe let out a long, low moan as it happened.

“Oh Jesus,” Gabe gasped out. “You are really good at that.”

James rubbed the semen between his fingers, then tentatively stuck out his tongue and took a taste.

“You are a tease, and you are trying to kill me.”

In the distance James heard a cell phone ring. “Are you going to get that?”

“No. I have a very strict rule. No getting out of the shower to answer my phone.”

“And how many times have you taken extra-long showers to avoid calls?”

Gabe grinned. “You already know me too well.”

“No, I just have a teenager and lead a team of Olympic-level procrastinators.”

“I see.” Gabe gave him a quick kiss. “Then I will stop procrastinating, get us cleaned up, and cook breakfast. How does that sound?”

James’s stomach gave a small rumble, throwing in its vote for breakfast. “I think that sounds fine.”

James figured they’d just rinse off, but Gabe had other ideas, taking the time to wash James’s hair with something that smelled faintly of green tea. If he could have come again, he probably would have, just from the sensation of Gabe massaging his scalp.

Then Gabe dried him with towels that were soft and warm and big enough to wear as togas.

James’s stomach was positively grumbling by then. Gabe helped him back into the blue robe before pulling on a pair of maroon sleep pants that somehow made him look more indecent than when he’d been naked.

Only when they were in the kitchen did Gabe listen to the message on his phone. He groaned in what sounded like pain.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Gabe opened his eyes again, then pushed a button on a very complicated bit of machinery that in some distant future universe might be a coffeemaker. “We’re at the panic phase of negotiations with this Russian company. It always happens. Things get agreed on, then before it goes down on paper, the other party starts listening to advice from random people, and they panic about things that aren’t really a problem. It’s like people who go to their doctor, then spend five hours online convincing themselves their doctor is wrong.” Gabe placed a mug in the machine, and it quickly filled with coffee. “You take milk in yours?”

“Please.”

Gabe grabbed a carton of 1 percent milk from the fridge.

“All that and it doesn’t put the milk in for you?”

Gabe chuckled even while rolling his eyes. “It was a gift. When it finally breaks, I’m going back to my old stovetop percolator; I don’t care how badly it clashes with the décor.”

James took a seat on a tall chair on the other side of the kitchen counter; Gabe handed over the mug. James took a sip. The coffee wasn’t burnt or bitter. It had a slightly nutty flavor and a smooth feel in his mouth.

“Okay, it does make a decent cup of coffee.”

Gabe retrieved his own mug from the machine. “It does do that. Now, breakfast. I can do eggs about a dozen different ways. I’ve got bacon, chorizos, sausages, smoked salmon. My pancakes aren’t bad, and I make a good omelet as well.”

James’s stomach grumbled loudly. His breakfast usually consisted of oatmeal, which was warm, filling, and cheap. “How about an omelet?”

“Omelet it is.”

James sipped coffee and watched Gabe make breakfast. It was possibly the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Something about the way Gabe’s sleep pants hung low on his hips was more erotic than when he was pacing about naked. They curved around his ass, and when he moved certain ways, James could make out the outline of his cock, hanging low and waiting. James’s cock was hard and protruding from his robe, and he was glad he was sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to burn the eggs while I ravish you on the floor.”

James blushed and started examining his coffee instead. Gabe gave a warm, rolling chuckle.

James did look back up and watched the way the muscles of Gabe’s arms and chest flexed as he whisked the eggs. His arms weren’t bulging and unnatural looking, but they were well defined. He could still feel the way they had held him the night before. For possibly the first time in his adult life, just for a second, he felt safe and free from his problems. He knew it wasn’t a feeling he could afford to linger on, but it had still been nice.

The eggs sizzled in the pan, the smell combining with the slight tang of sourdough toast in the air.

Gabe slid the large omelet smoothly from the pan and sliced it in two. A few seconds later, an omelet, buttered toast, and orange juice were placed in front of him before Gabe joined him on the other side of the bench. He tried to cover his erection, which had only half subsided.

“Is that okay?”

James was salivating. “It looks wonderful.” James took a bite. The eggs weren’t dry or runny. The ham and cheese were nicely blended, and the peppers set the whole thing off. “You can definitely make breakfast.”

“I learned a long time ago that charm might get you a first date, but breakfast gets you a second.”

James thought about a second date, and his erection sprang back to life. Gabe teased his fingers over it. James almost choked on a bite of omelet. Then Gabe’s phone started to ring with what sounded like a tinny version of “Dancing Queen.”

“That’s Tamyra.” He grabbed the phone quickly. “What? And good morning….” He glanced at James. “Do you really have to? This can’t wait? Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” James pulled his robe tight as Gabe hung up. “Tamyra is coming up for two minutes to drop off some papers. That’s it, I promise.”

James looked around for someplace to hide. “Should I go find clothes?” James didn’t worry about his erection, which had promptly curled up.

Gabe kissed him. “Don’t worry about it. She’s seen me in far less and much worse. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

The elevator dinged. James looked over his shoulder as Tamyra stepped out. James knew he had no interest in women, but even he could appreciate Tamyra on an aesthetic level. She was in a little black dress that showed off ample cleavage without being trashy. It accented curves ancient sculptors would have killed to get a glimpse of. The black spiked heels gave her already long, lean legs that extra oomph and made her at least as tall as Gabe. Her hair was perfect, but her makeup was definitely smeared.

Gabe was smirking. “Oh my. The Walk of Shame dress.”

“Who said anything about shame?”

“It’s before eight on a Saturday morning.”

“And my date had an early shift at the hospital.”

Gabe’s face fell. “Oh God. You’re not back with Ming Lee?”

“Like you care.”

“I do care. She’s looking for a housewife to bear her children, which isn’t you, and if she somehow talks you into it, I, and possibly the entire company, am screwed.”

“It was just a fun evening. And speaking of—good morning, James.”

For some reason James turned bright red. “Morning.”

“Ah, you’re right, he does blush.”

James felt his cheeks absolutely burn. She handed a stack of folders to Gabe.

“Aren’t we meant to be living in a paperless society by now?”

“Tell that to the Russians.”

Gabe flipped open the top folder. James caught a glimpse of a very large number with a dollar sign next to it. “That’s a lot of zeros.”

Gabe gave a random little wave. “That’s a rough estimate. It’ll change depending on the political stability of OPEC nations, where the euro stands, rates of violence in Afghanistan, and who wins the next Australian parliamentary elections.”

“All that.”

Gabe pulled his head from the file. “This kind of business is all about butterfly effect. An old lady in Grand Rapids can’t figure out the grandson’s Prius, crashes, claims it went out of control, it gets on the news, and the next day Toyota stocks are down two points, taking all other major car manufactures a half a point down with it. And you better believe twenty-four-hour news and social media has just made the whole thing worse.”

James was still fixated on that number. “I fix computers for really smart people.”

“And on a lot of levels, I envy you that.”

There was the muffled sound of a phone ringing. Everyone looked around.

“Oh!” James jumped up. “It’s mine.” He fished it from the pocket of his coat, still hanging by the elevator door, before it went to voice mail.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?” Dylan’s voice was bright and perky.

“Fine. Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Wanted to check on you. That’s all.”

James rolled his eyes even with no one there to see. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Just fine?”

“Digging for details?”

“No, no. Just checking in. Any idea when you might be home?”

James looked over his shoulder. Gabe and Tamyra had their heads bent over a folder again, and James saw the muscles of Gabe’s back tense. “Actually I don’t think I’ll be staying that much later.”

“Don’t rush home on my account.”

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

James went back to the kitchen. Gabe was already on his phone, and Tamyra was chewing on Gabe’s toast while looking at her own phone. James’s omelet had started to go cold, but he finished it anyway. He did not waste food.

He was draining his orange juice when Gabe finally got off the phone. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got to do what has to be done.” Gabe frowned as James swallowed a bit of disappointment. He had liked the idea of a weekend in bed, but with the amount of work Gabe had, he was surprised he’d been able to spend the night. And he was pretty sure getting clingy and demanding was not a good way to start off a relationship. “I really should be getting home, if for no other reason than to make sure Dylan didn’t try to have an orgy while I was out.”

Both Gabe and Tamyra laughed.

“Okay, but only if I get to make up for my neglect later?” Gabe stepped close, and James was once again aware he wasn’t wearing anything but a thin robe.

“It’s a deal if you point me toward my clothes.”

Gabe gave him a kiss first, then pointed him toward a utility room where his clothes were still warm in the dryer. As he got dressed, his brain started to run ahead of him as it always did. Laundry, groceries, game on Sunday, work on Monday, fixing anything that had broken over the weekend.

Gabe was back on the phone by the time James returned to the kitchen.

“I should go,” James mouthed silently.

“Just a second,” Gabe told whomever he’d been talking to. Then he grabbed James, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss that left his head spinning. “I absolutely promise I’ll make this up to you. I swear. Call me when you get home so I know you made it?”

“I will.”

Gabe gave him another quick kiss before returning to his call.

W
HEN
G
ABE
hung up his phone, the clock told him it was nearly ten. He’d known an ex-Soviet coder back in the start-up days who told him Russians liked having meetings late because they’d gotten in the habit during the revolution. He hadn’t believed it at the time, but Moscow was exactly ten hours ahead, making it 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, and they seemed perfectly willing to talk for another two hours.

Five messages had come in while he talked to the Russians. He ignored them all except for the one from James. James assured him he’d gotten home okay. What’s more, James didn’t sound angry. Certainly if Gabe had been in James’s position, he’d be a little peeved. He would have to think of something to make it up to James. There was another voice in the background of the message, and James talking with someone quickly and quietly. Gabe strained to hear what was being said before James cleared his throat.

“You’re also invited to Dylan’s baseball game tomorrow, if you can make it.”

That startled Gabe, but he supposed it shouldn’t. He’d done Meet the Parents before, but from James’s offhand comments, Dylan seemed like the kind to worry about his father, and inspecting the boyfriend was going to be part of that.

Gabe grinned at that thought. He and James were definitely at boyfriend level, which, while maybe a little fast, felt rather nice. He half listened to the other messages and wondered what he should wear to the game.

O
N
THE
small wall-mounted television, Ernesto confronted his father over Gabriella’s parentage. Normally the laundromat was aflutter with chatter and gossip at 1:00 p.m. on a Saturday, but Ernesto’s great revelation had been building for weeks, and anyone who couldn’t tune in daily was not about to miss the weekend catch-up.

There was a slight gasp from the women as Gabriella fainted, falling into Ernesto’s strong arms.

James’s attention slipped from the TV as he remembered how Gabe’s arms had felt around him. Gabe had held him tight, and in those moments, James knew he’d breathed easier than ever before. The small panicky voice that commented on every aspect of his life was briefly drowned out by the memory of Gabe’s warm, soothing words.

And he had slept. When Gabe told him to rest, he had melted into that soft bed, and he’d woke feeling better than he could ever remember.

That little panicky voice pointed out that now that Gabe had gotten what he wanted, there were good odds he’d move on. And he certainly had bigger priorities than romancing James. That number had had a
lot
of zeros. There was no way a person could juggle a number like that and also have a relationship. Certainly the wives of the successful businessmen in the telenovelas never seemed happy.