Heated Beat 01 - My Mate Jack (MM) (14 page)

Jack grimaced, because that was a good day when he worked in London. If he was DJ-ing, he was often away for days at a time, which hadn’t mattered so much while Will was caught up with uni work, but that was about to change. Final marks depending, Will had landed a job right here in Leeds that would leave him no time to traipse around after Jack, so they needed a plan, and Jack reckoned he had one. “It’s Monday, mate. I didn’t have a gig today, remember?”

Will frowned. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I keep thinking it’s Friday. The weekend passed me by. Where’ve you been today? You were in Bristol last night, right? Or was that last week?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “That was three weeks ago. I was in Brixton last night, and Kensington this morning.”

That got Will’s attention. The only reason for Jack to be in Kensington was to meet with his management team at his record company’s UK headquarters. “What were you doing there? Everything okay?”

Jack resisted the urge to yank Will from his chair and into his arms. “More than okay. You know how I’ve been doing more work in the production studio?”

Will nodded. Away from the oppressive heat and relentless schedule of Ibiza, Jack’s migraines were under control, but Jack had found a renewed passion in production work that had faded while he’d been distracted by a packed itinerary of live shows. “Is this about them shutting down the studios in Brick Lane? Does this mean you have to go abroad again?”

“Nope.” Jack shook his head, gleeful. This had been in the pipeline for a few months, but he hadn’t told Will in case it fell through. “They’re not shutting them down. They’re relocating them… to Nottingham.”

“Nottingham? You mean… you’ll be able to work up here sometimes?”

Jack’s grin widened. “It’s better than that, mate. They want me to produce and coordinate their next six albums, as well as my own, which means—”

“Fuck! You can live up here?”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I mean, if you want me to? I’ll still have to play gigs in London sometimes, and in the summer, they reckon they might send me to LA for a few weeks, but you could come with me. You get holidays, right? And I want to play more free parties, and join a band again, and—”

Will tackled Jack to the bed, cutting him off with a crazed kiss. Jack let him have his way a moment. He’d been gone all weekend, and he’d missed this… missed Will. He often felt like he had a limb missing when they weren’t together.

He lost himself in Will for a while. He’d fought the heat between them for so long, these days it felt like they could spend all day wrapped up in each other and he’d still go to sleep craving more.

Will kissed the hell out of him, ripped his T-shirt off, and fumbled with his belt. Jack gave him a hand and made short work of the tracksuit bottoms he suspected Will had, between showers, been wearing all weekend.

Naked, they wrestled and rolled their way to the middle of the bed. Despite his leaner frame, Will ended up on top, which was just how Jack liked it. Loved it, in fact. There was nothing better than letting Will own him, inside and out. He’d never figured himself a bottom, even during those dark days he’d spent so much time agonizing over the unwavering desire he’d harbored for Will from the moment they’d first kissed all those years ago. But a bottom he was, and as Will moved down his body with his teeth and tongue, he parted his legs and raised them, coaxing Will in… craving his touch where he needed it most.

It was all too easy to get carried away. Will worked his magic with slick fingers, and Jack arched up into him, grinding himself down on Will’s cock. Will bagged up and aligned them, his gaze fixed on Jack, watching for any sign of the discomfort that had faded months ago. He pressed in. Jack gasped and bit down on Will’s shoulder. This part didn’t hurt anymore, but the sensation of Will filling him was as toe-curling as it had ever been.

Will was buried to the hilt and building up a wicked rhythm before Jack remembered he had more to tell him. If this was a fuck to celebrate their future, there was something else Will needed to know.

“Oh, God. Fuck, wait. I need to tell you something.”

Will raised his head from his devilish assault on Jack’s neck. “Not leaving me for a bird, are you?”

“What? Fuck, no.” Jack gripped Will hard enough to leave bruises on his pale skin. With Will easing his cock in and out of Jack, clouding his mind with a sweet push and slide that made Jack’s eyes roll, Jack was almost past the point of coherent speech, but his sexuality was an ongoing fascination for both of them. Jack was crazy about Will, but he still had little idea if Will’s anatomy had anything to do with it. He’d never truly wanted another bloke. Did that make him bisexual? Jack had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he cared. He loved
Will
. Nothing else mattered. “It’s not about that. It’s about money.”

Will slowed his rhythm and fixed Jack with his best “don’t fuck with me” glare. “What about it?”

“I, er, don’t have any…. Least, I won’t by this time next week.”

“Eh?” Will stilled and rose up on his hands, his dick pulsing inside Jack, like it could go off at any moment. “Thought you had a pot of gold stashed away.”

“Very funny.” It was Jack’s turn to glare. Will had never resented Jack’s success, but he’d never cared for the idea of living off Jack’s money. Good job, really. “I kinda bought a house today. My dad tried to sell my mum’s house from under her. The law says he can’t till Laurie leaves school, but that’s not so far away so… I, uh, bought it.”

“You bought your mum a house?”

“I bought
her
house for her.” Jack knew Will would understand the difference. His whole family was still struggling with a year that had turned their world upside down—divorce, gay pictures in magazines. Jack hated his dad—in some ways, he always had—but his mum deserved better than to lose the home she’d tended for twenty-five years.

“So you’re skint, then?” Will brought Jack back to the present with a playful tug on Jack’s dick.

“Yeah, shit.
Will
.” Jack gritted his teeth and tried to get a grip on himself. “I mean, I won’t be for long, but I cleared all my savings to put the deposit down, and I’ll have to pay the mortgage on top of wherever else we live. For a while, it’s just me, my decks, and my drum kit.”

Will smiled and closed his eyes. He picked up the pace of his thrusts again, adding a twist that took Jack’s breath away. “I’ve missed that drum kit, but, Jack, I don’t give a fuck how much money you have. I live in a basement and eat Pot Noodle for breakfast. As long as you’re with me, I’m happy with that.”

Jack had spent a long morning at the bank, and he figured they could do a little better than that, but the time for talk was over. He lay back and let Will have his way, watching through heavy eyes as Will turned them both inside out. Will was so strong, so sure of his own mind. Not like Jack, who wrestled with even the smallest things before he was sure of his path. Sometimes, only this… only Will, made sense to him.

Jack came with a low cry, spilling over his belly and Will’s hand. He saw stars for a moment, like he always did when Will pushed him over the edge, but his vision cleared in time to see Will’s jaw fall slack, to hear his gravelly moan and feel him lock up and release.

Will collapsed on Jack’s chest, breathing hard. Jack held him close and nuzzled his tousled hair, stroking his sweat-sheened skin. He loved these moments of completion, broken only by the need to clean up and chuck the condom. Lucky for him, Will liked to do all that… liked to take care of Jack after he’d played him so hard.

Will got up. Jack remained sprawled out and dazed until Will came back, wiped them both clean, and rubbed a soothing hand over Jack’s bare skin. “All right, mate?”

Jack hummed, lazy and sated. “Yeah.”

“Sleepyhead.” Will mussed Jack’s hair.

Jack fought him off and mock scowled. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course you can.” Will grabbed a pillow. He jammed it under Jack’s head and rubbed Jack’s temple with his thumb, the way he did when Jack had a headache.

“Remember that letter you gave to my dad?”

“Er, yeah….” Will’s expression darkened slightly. He had no love for Jack’s father.

“What did it say?”

“What did it say?” Will cringed. “Oh, God. I don’t know. I was pretty upset when I wrote it, and nervous too. I was terrified of moving to Leeds without you. I felt really alone, you know?”

Jack’s heart ached, but he understood. He’d got on a plane to Ibiza honestly believing Will didn’t give a shit about what had passed between them. That he didn’t even feel it.

Will sighed and tangled his fingers in Jack’s hair. “I think I rambled on about being friends for life… blood brothers and all that shit. I think I even told you I loved you.”

“Yeah?” Jack retrieved Will’s hand and twined their fingers together. “And do you? Love me?”

Will looked down. “Course I do, you daft wanker. How could you not know that?”

Jack shrugged, because he did know it, he just needed to hear it from time to time. “I feel the same, if it’s any consolation.”

“You’ll never be my consolation prize, Jack. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Will punctuated the sweetest thing he’d ever said with a biting kiss, and then he pulled away with a grin. “I do need to get the fuck out of this room, though. How about we get dressed and I buy you a pint?”

It was the best offer Jack had heard all day. A pint with his best mate? Life didn’t get much better that that. “You’re on, and Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

G
ARRETT
L
EIGH
lives in a small commuter town just north of London with her husband, two kids, a dog with half a brain, and a cat with a chip on her shoulder. She’s twenty-nine, and now she’s reached that milestone, she intends to stay there for the foreseeable future. Garrett has been writing just about her whole life, but it’s been about three years since she decided to take it seriously. According to Mr. Garrett, it was either give the men in her head a voice or have herself committed.

Angst. She can’t write a word without it. She’s tried, she really has, but her protagonists will always always be tortured, crippled, broken, and deeply flawed. Throw in a tale of enduring true love, some stubbly facial hair, and a bunch of tattoos, and you've got yourself a Garrett special.

When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible. That, and dreaming up new ways to torture her characters. Garrett believes in happy endings; she just likes to make her boys work for it.

Garrett also works as a freelance cover artist for various publishing houses and independent authors under the pseudonym G.D. Leigh.

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