Chapter 7
SEVEN
Working the glass booth at the Renaissance Faire with Jake actually turned out to be fun. Rafe went into the whole thing wary and defensive. Sharing the same workspace with Jake when it was just the two of them in his hot shop was one thing, but having an audience watch them create the glass baubles, goblets, and mugs that would ultimately add to his family’s coffers felt a little too much like when Jake had sucked all the attention in Corning.
Jake was an attention whore. There was no getting around that. But the way he played to the crowd that wandered by to watch what they were doing throughout the day and the way he pulled Rafe into his cheeky banter not only sold glass, it turned Rafe on.
“Hey, Mr. Hot Stuff,” Jake said from behind him as Rafe gathered glass from the furnace to start on a goblet. “You’ve got what I need.”
Rafe smirked at him, then glanced past him to where a new set of people had gathered to watch what they were doing. They’d been at it for hours, so he knew the drill and said, “It’ll be all yours in just a second,” as he moved his blowpipe in and out of the furnace suggestively.
When he pulled his pipe out and took the glass he’d gathered over to the marver to roll it, he winked at Jake.
“Ooh, baby, you know how I like it,” Jake said, then groaned obscenely as he thrust a blowpipe into the furnace. “Hot and wet.”
Rafe laughed. It was silly, really. They were grown men behaving like randy teenage boys. But the crowd was eating it up, and Rafe would have been lying if he said he didn’t like the flirty connection it fostered between him and Jake.
There was actual work to be done. Competing by blowing glass baubles was one thing, but it took a lot more concentration, multiple steps, and frequent trips back to the furnace to reheat the glass to make the goblets that people would actually bring out their wallets to buy. That didn’t mean Rafe and Jake weren’t in competition as they turned out goblet after goblet and vase after vase throughout the day.
“I don’t know why you think you’re not talented,” Jake said, nodding to the goblet Rafe had just finished when they happened to need the annealer at the same time. “That’s beautiful.”
Rafe grunted and nodded to the mug Jake had just completed. “I’m not the only talented artist in the room,” he said, holding the door so Jake could position his work in the jumble of things they’d made throughout the day.
Once the door was shut, Jake pushed his safety goggles up onto his forehead and gave Rafe a curious look. “Is that the problem? You have comparison anxiety?”
Rafe hated the pinch of jealousy that Jake’s suggestion sparked in him. He was jealous of Jake’s talent, but he didn’t like feeling that way.
“Not really,” he said, pulling off his gloves and moving over to the side, where a bottle of water was waiting for him. “I’m not used to not being the only artist at our level.”
“Gotcha,” Jake said, pulling off his gloves and goggles entirely. “You should probably go to therapy for that,” he teased Rafe, then joined him at the side counter.
He touched Rafe’s arm and kept his hand there as balance while he leaned over to get a bottle of water. Rafe buzzed at the touch and at the smell of Jake’s sweat as he swayed close. Spending the day in a confined space with someone you reluctantly fancied and were sort of engaged to did mad things to his libido.
Jake swigged a few swallows from his water bottle as Rafe watched his Adam’s apple bob, then set it down and thumped Rafe’s arm again. “I’m going to pop over to the loo. I’ll be back in a jiff and we can blow each other some more. I mean, blow with each other some more.” He winked like Rafe was a member of the audience, then slipped through the booth’s exit and headed off to the bathrooms.
Rafe watched him go, then shook his head when he realized he was pining for his partner. His glassblowing partner, that is. The engagement was just for a visa, nothing more. He had too much work to do to think about anything more.
Before he could get back to blowing another goblet, he went to check with Sarah, one of the arts center’s students who had come by to help out by manning the till. They were doing well that day. Rafe was certain Jake had everything to do with that.
He was about to head back to work when a familiar voice snagged his attention with, “Alright, Rafe?”
Rafe turned and smiled when he spotted his friend, Steve, approaching the side of the booth.
“Not bad,” he said, heading over to greet Steve with a handshake. A handshake that turned into a hug. “You’re back from Singapore.”
“Yeah, I just got back yesterday,” Steve said, sweeping his body with an appreciative look. “You’re looking great. All this fresh air and sunshine suits you.”
Rafe laughed. His insides jumped around as much as Jake did when he was nervous. “I’m doing what I love best,” he said, glancing to the furnace.
“I thought you loved something else best,” Steve said with a saucy wiggle of his eyebrows.
Rafe caught his breath around the familiar pulse of lust that filled him. He did like something else. He always had. His family had always teased him for having a man in every city and a little black book as fat as a dictionary. That had always been who he was, who he wanted to be. It was strange for him to have gone as long as he had recently without sex.
“I’m trying to be serious about glass these days,” he told Steve, crossing his arms loosely but still smiling. His instinct to hook up with someone nice, fit, and friendly was at war with Jake’s nearly constant presence in his mind. “I learned a lot in Corning and I’m eager to take my work to the next level,” he said, smooth and conversational.
“I’m sure we’ll all be saying we knew you when someday,” Steve said, reaching out and patting Rafe’s arm.
It was maddening. His body screamed at him to grab whatever chance for a good time he could, but his mind warned him he was engaged. Except a different part of his mind laughed, because it was a fake, utilitarian engagement and he owed Jake nothing. They’d spent all day flirting, but Jake was part of the same community Rafe was. Casual sex was never off the table, and Jake understood that.
“So we still on for Friday?” Steve asked, sending another arrow of self-consciousness right through the heart of the dilemma that had popped up out of nowhere.
Shit. He’d completely forgotten making a date with Steve for when he got back from his business trip.
“That’s right.” Rafe shifted his weight uneasily. “Friday, yeah. Where do you want to meet up?”
“Cupid’s Arrow?” Steve suggested. “I know it’s on the loud side these days, but it’s incredibly popular at the moment.”
Rafe nodded. He’d been to Cupid’s Arrow a few times. It was one of the hotter nightclubs associated with The Brotherhood. It had opened about ten years before and changed names and vibes several times before settling into the fun nightclub it was now.
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” he said, though he was anything but sure.
“Fantastic,” Steve said, squeezing his arm again. “I’ll see you then. I’m here with Dave, so I’d better catch up with him, but I’ll see you Friday.”
Rafe waved as Steve walked off, sending him a heated smile as he left. He kept staring out across the busy Renaissance Faire well after Steve walked around a corner.
It was the weirdest feeling, not knowing whether he should feel guilty for having a date when he was fake-engaged to Jake. He’d made the date a couple weeks ago because he’d really needed to get laid. Steve had been about to leave for his extended business trip overseas, so they’d scheduled the date way in advance.
Rafe shook his head and walked back to the furnace to organize things for a second before starting another goblet. Should he feel guilty for keeping a prior arrangement with someone else, now that Jake was in his life? It felt wrong to cancel on Steve, but it also felt wrong to go out with someone else, even though Jake only really wanted him for a visa.
How did life end up with these sort of weird conundrums anyhow?
“You miss me?” Jake asked when he returned to the booth with a spring in his step.
“Not really,” Rafe lied casually, grinning at him as he got up from his bench to thrust his half-made goblet back into the furnace for a second.
Jake laughed. “Honesty. I like that.”
“Oh really?” Rafe teased him.
Jake’s expression fell for a moment, sending a spike of guilt through Rafe.
“Sorry,” he said, sitting at his bench and putting his concentration into the goblet he was making. “Too soon.”
“Hey, I’m working on it,” Jake said, selecting a blowpipe so he could start another piece, too. “Thirty years of being a compulsive liar doesn’t disappear overnight.”
“I know. Sorry,” Rafe repeated.
He threw himself into his work, fighting off the guilt over making Jake feel bad and the mixed emotions confirming his date with Steve left him with. Life had never been so complicated. He didn’t like it. In his perfect world, he could go out and have a little fun with Steve, come home and have some more fun with Jake, and no one would feel slighted or jealous, they would all just accept each other.
But even that thought didn’t sit right with Rafe. The idea of being in an open relationship and sleeping with whoever he wanted whenever he wanted felt like it belonged to a younger version of himself. Mid-thirties Rafe wanted more.
His muddled emotions made their way into the goblet he tried to perfect. It wasn’t up to his usual standards, but he knocked it off the pipe and carried it over to the annealer anyhow. It was a bad sign when his emotions started to bring down the quality of his work.
His confidence in his talent took another hit when he walked back to the workbenches and saw the gorgeous vase Jake seemed to be magicking into being.
“That’s astounding,” he said, standing behind Jake and watching his technique for a second.
Jake shrugged as he worked, forming the details of the vase with his jacks. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately. I thought this would be a good time to try out the design. It might fit into what we’re doing with the English countryside stuff.”
“Well, it’s stunning,” Rafe said.
He started to move away to try again with another goblet, but a thought hit him and he had to turn back.
“Why are you trying to immigrate to the UK on a spousal visa?” he asked. “You could apply for the Global Talent visa in a heartbeat without all the fuss and risk of a fake marriage.”
Rafe wasn’t certain, but he thought Jake tensed at the suggestion. He was silent for a few seconds more as he shaped the lip of his vase, then said, “It’s too complicated, too much paperwork.”
“A spousal visa is a lot of paperwork, too,” Rafe pointed out. “And we’ll have to prove to someone that we married for legitimate reasons, I’m sure.”
“We can convince them,” Jake said, peeking up at him with a saucy look.
Rafe definitely wasn’t immune to the heat behind that look, but he was still puzzled by a few things.
“For a Global Talent visa, all you need is proof that you’re at the top of your craft, which you are,” he said. “And you could secure those three letters of recommendation that you need from recognized leaders in this field like snapping your fingers. You know everyone.”
Jake shrugged again. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me? I’ll make it worth your while.”
He grinned up at Rafe again and bit his lip this time.
Rafe smiled back, his cock taking notice of the flirty gesture. It had definitely been too long since he’d gotten laid.
He went back to sorting blowpipes and making sure everything was where it needed to be, since the faire would close in about an hour. He couldn’t shake the pulse of desire that filled him just knowing Jake was in the booth with him.
“You’re all flushed and sweaty, and you haven’t been anywhere near the furnace,” Jake said in a low purr as he brought his vase over to the annealer, where Rafe stood. “What’s up with that?”
“Nothing’s up with that,” Rafe lied, holding the door open so Jake could deposit his vase to cool. “Looks like we’re done for the day,” he added, avoiding Jake’s hungry look. “The annealer is packed.”
“I can think of something else that should be packed,” Jake said once the door was shut and they stepped to the side.
Rafe grinned and shook his head. “We don’t have an audience anymore. You don’t have to flirt with me now.”
“What if I want to flirt with you?” Jake asked, pulling off his gloves and wiping the sweat from his face on the arm of his shirt. He tossed the gloves and his goggles aside and moved right up against Rafe, smelling like a dream. “I like flirting with you.”
Rafe knew full well he should have stepped back or turned away, but he didn’t want to. He laughed, low and sultry, and slipped his hands around Jake’s waist to grab his backside. “I like flirting with you, too,” he said.
Jake hummed and stared at Rafe’s mouth. “Good thing we’re two consenting adults in a place where no one would bat an eye if we kept on flirting,” he said, grabbing Rafe’s waist and pulling their bodies flush. “In a horizontal position.”
Rafe sucked in a breath, filling his senses with the salty scent and heat of Jake’s body. Conscience be damned, it was impossible to resist temptation when it was on offer the way Jake was offering himself.
“Good thing,” he repeated, then slanted his mouth over Jake’s.
Jake immediately responded to the kiss, brushing Rafe’s lips with his tongue, then pushing his tongue in to tangle with Rafe’s. Rafe moaned with the rush of endorphins that hit him and the pure need that roared through him. It wasn’t just that he’d gone too long without sex. He liked Jake, a lot. The heady combination of being on the same artistic wavelength with the man and knowing he needed him so badly made what was happening between them impossible to resist.
“I need you,” Jake whispered as Rafe backed him toward one of the counters along the rear wall of the booth. “Like, now.”
“There are still people around,” Rafe rumbled, dragging his eyes away from Jake to search for any kind of shelter.
“I don’t care,” Jake said, sliding his hands down to burrow under the hem of Rafe’s shirt, then spreading them across the bare skin of his belly and sides. “I need my mouth on you right now.”
Desperation made Rafe foolish. He nudged Jake back slightly, then grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the small closet built into the rear wall of the glassblowing booth. It was where he kept supplies between Renaissance Faires, and it was barely bigger than a broom closet, but it was private.
As soon as they were inside, he tugged the string to turn on the single lightbulb, then fumbled with the fastenings of Jake’s jeans.
Jake did the same with him, then sank to his knees as soon as Rafe’s fly was down, tugging his trousers forcefully down to Rafe’s thighs. Rafe moaned loud enough for anyone who happened to be passing to hear as Jake cupped his balls and grasped the base of his cock so he could close his mouth over the tip. He leaned back against the shelving, knocking something over as he did, and braced himself as Jake sucked him in deeper.
“Jesus, fuck!” Rafe gasped as Jake took him all the way to the back of his throat, then pulled back to create suction.
They were both sweaty, dirty, and gross, but Jake didn’t seem to care. He bobbed on Rafe, switching up his speed and using his tongue, to the point where Rafe was in serious danger of losing it long before he wanted to. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to hold on, even gripping one hand in Jake’s hair, like he would push him back.
Jake groaned like he liked the rough grip, which didn’t help Rafe’s control at all. Jake seemed to know he needed to ease up. He shifted back and gave Rafe a break, kissing his belly and his thighs for a second before licking him from balls to tip and sucking him again.
It was beautiful madness, and within a few minutes, Rafe couldn’t have stopped himself from coming if he’d tried. He gave up and growled with pleasure as he started to come, thrusting with short pulses into Jake’s throat.
Jake gripped his thighs, choking a little, but swallowing everything Rafe gave him. It was quick and raw, and Rafe was on cloud nine as the urgency of orgasm shifted into the glow of satisfaction.
It wasn’t over, though. Jake pushed himself to his feet and slammed his mouth over Rafe’s again. Rafe’s eyes went wide for a moment at the salty, musky taste of Jake’s mouth, but he wanted every last bit of that kiss.
As their mouths merged and fought for the upper hand, Rafe fumbled his way into Jake’s jeans, pulling his dick free. He wasn’t opposed to giving blowjobs, but the way Jake practically vibrated in his hold as their tongues rubbed told him he wouldn’t have to. He closed his fist around Jake’s cock and worked him hard, like he could force an orgasm from him.
He didn’t have to force anything. Jake was already there, and in less than a minute, he gasped and undulated against Rafe as he started to come. His hot, sticky cum shot all over Rafe’s hand and the bottom of his shirt, but Rafe didn’t care. He loved the feeling of power he had when he made another man come.
When it was over, they relaxed into each other’s arms, kissing with decreasing intensity until they were more or less cuddling uncomfortably against the hard edges of the shelves.
“That was something,” Jake panted, his hands still all over Rafe.
“It certainly was,” Rafe replied, grinning at him.
Jake grinned back, and the two of them laughed.
“We’d better get everything cleaned up,” Rafe said, muscling himself to stand straight, which took more effort than it should have. “Dad likes us all to have supper together while he counts the box office at the end of these things.”
Jake laughed and pulled up his jeans. “Sounds like good, clean, family fun.”
Rafe snorted and shook his head. Just like that, they were back to bantering and being friends. Friends who got each other off, but friends all the same.
He pulled his trousers back up and tucked in his shirt to hide the stain it now bore. He’d shower and change before joining the family for supper. No one would be the wiser, and if they were, they were Hawthornes. Sexy shenanigans were assumed, not shamed.
And if he played his cards right, maybe he and Jake could play around some more. It was all just fun, after all. It wasn’t like he was falling head over heels in love with Jake or anything.