Chapter 14 the Honeymoon Destination #2
“You still trust me?”
Jamie doesn’t hesitate: “I do.”
“I want to do something.” Jordan inhales. “Something I never considered doing before. Until you. And I’ll probably be bad at it.”
“Could you, um, be more specific?”
“I want to blow you, Jamie.”
“Oh.”
It comes out like a hiccup. Like all the surprise in Jamie balloons, and pops. Eventually, he nods. His bottom lip is caught between sharp, white teeth. He barely contains his smile.
“I’m game.”
Jordan nods, relaxing.
“I’m on PrEP, by the way,” Jamie inserts. “Which I definitely should’ve mentioned when I went down on you.”
“Oh, I haven’t—”
“It doesn’t matter that you haven’t been with anyone,” Jamie tells him. “It’s still important to share this kind of information upfront. Also, we can use a condom. If that makes you more comfortable.”
Jordan surges up on his toes to kiss him. It’s deep, and over too soon.
“Sorry,” he says against Jamie’s mouth. “I should’ve asked first.”
“No, that was fine. You have my permission.”
“Thanks for telling me you’re on PrEP.” Blush warms Jordan’s already hot face. “I’m not really as educated as I should be. About that, I mean. Can we discuss that more? Later.”
“Later,” Jamie repeats, beaming.
“Good. I’m gonna, you know, suck you off. Now.”
“Great. Wonderful. I’m right here if you need any, er—tips?”
Jordan grins into one more kiss.
Then he sinks to his knees.
It’s weird at first. The feel against his tongue. Adjusting to the weight. Jamie’s thickness. He savors the taste that slips like nectar down his throat.
Jordan closes his eyes, focusing. The anxiety of it all—of being awful, of disappointing Jamie—tries to stretch under his skin. He almost lets it. Almost retreats into his default state of hiding all his flaws from someone. Never giving them a reason to reject him.
But a soft gasp breaks through the white noise in his head.
It’s Jamie. His body trembles. “Oh, fuck,” he says, deep and needy.
Only halfway down, Jordan boldly stares up at Jamie’s half-lidded eyes. The sweet curl of his mouth. The quick rise and fall of his chest. His muscles strung tight like a bow. As if he’s fighting with himself.
It hits Jordan, fierce and hot.
Jamie wants to roll his hips forward the same way Jordan did in the back of the Jeep. He wants more of Jordan’s mouth. His tongue, hollowing cheeks.
More of … him.
At the corner of his vision, Jordan spots Jamie’s shaking hand close to his head. He pulls off, grinning. “You can.”
Jamie swallows hard. “C-can what?”
“Grab my head,” Jordan says, unapologetic.
A sharp whine snaps free of Jamie’s tight jaw.
“But give me a minute before you—” It’s Jordan’s turn to swallow, Jamie’s salty headiness sharp on his tongue. “Before you fuck my mouth.”
Jamie smacks his other hand against the wet tiles. Jordan wonders if that’s a good or bad sign? He doesn’t wait for a clear answer.
Hands braced on Jamie’s thighs, Jordan angles his head. He takes his dick back between his lips.
Building a rhythm is tricky. Jamie’s hips roll cautiously. And Jordan’s inexperienced technique shows. That doesn’t stop him. He does what he’s done with every new thing he’s learned in life: throws aggressive enthusiasm at it.
Jordan goes all in until he perfects it.
Of course, Jamie helps. He pushes tenderly on the back of Jordan’s skull. His subtle directions are chased by encouraging noises.
He moans, “More pressure. God, yes.”
He mewls, “I’m so sensitive right there … wait, don’t stop.”
He cries, “Slow, slow … fuck! You’re incredible.”
That last part sends an unexpected electric spark through Jordan. He welcomes the arch of Jamie’s spine. His jaw opens wider. He’s careful not to go too far. But it’s mind-numbingly hard, and his eagerness wins out.
With even breaths, Jordan works lower. He takes Jamie deeper. Not all the way. But close. Enough for the tip of his cock to tickle the back of Jordan’s throat.
“Fucking shit.”
He barely hears Jamie’s warning as he loses himself in the sloppy, enthusiastic noises his own mouth makes.
In being the reason Jamie comes undone.
When it’s over, he’s panting. He’s hard but doesn’t think about that. How can he when Jamie’s lazy smile matches the one on his own face?
“C’mere,” Jamie begs, too weak to drag Jordan to his feet.
Jordan lets Jamie kiss him breathless. He keeps them upright. Silences all the thoughts in his head until he only hears one thing through the static: Jamie’s husky voice.
“I told you the water never gets cold in here.”
“Tell me something no one else knows,” Jordan says.
They’re in Jamie’s bed with fresh sheets, still naked.
It’s after 3 PM. The ugly gray coming through the bedroom window makes it look closer to twilight. Jordan’s propped up by two memory foam pillows against the headboard. Jamie’s half curled around him, head on his chest. His skin is shower-warm, not fever-hot.
Jordan pushes slightly damp hair off Jamie’s forehead. He looks like something carved from the stars.
“What do you want to know?” Jamie says.
“Anything. Something not even Denz knows.”
Jamie’s nose crinkles as he thinks.
The rain is a soft, steady symphony. A heartbeat in their silence.
“When I was eight or nine,” Jamie starts, “I decided I was gonna be a lifeguard.”
Jordan smiles.
“I was obsessed with the idea,” Jamie goes on. “While all the other boys were pretending to be superheroes—”
A tiny laugh creeps into Jordan’s throat. He has so many fond memories of his mom yelling at him and Denz for stealing her expensive bath towels to play Batman and Superman.
“—I was patrolling our pool in red trunks and my dad’s Versace sunglasses, sunscreen on my nose.” Jamie shakes his head. As if he can’t believe he’s revealing this. “I’d invite all the other kids over. They’d sunbathe. I’d watch for sharks. I even gave them swimming lessons!”
Jordan groans. “You didn’t!”
“No one drowned on my watch.”
“So that’s why you were so good at our swim races?”
“That and I’m just better than you at everything.”
Jordan huffs. “Everything?”
“Everything,” Jamie confirms with a very suggestive smirk.
Cheeks hot, Jordan decides to let him have that one. “What changed your mind? About being a lifeguard?”
There’s a pause.
A frown pulls on Jamie’s face. He clears his throat. “One morning, my mom sat me down with a peanut butter and banana sandwich. It was my favorite.”
Jordan imagines little Jamie. Fluffy brown hair. Wide, eager eyes. Tiny crooked grin. Eating the world’s worst sandwich combo at a fancy kitchen table.
“She looked me in the eye and told me to quit being foolish.” Jamie picks at a loose thread on his comforter. “That the Peterses are above jobs like lifeguarding. We’re doctors. Or lawyers. People who matter.”
Jordan’s fingers thread through Jamie’s hair.
“She said I needed to start thinking that way,” he says, quieter, sadder. “She wasn’t supporting a son who was anything less.”
“Fuck,” Jordan hisses. “You weren’t even ten.”
Jamie shrugs, then sighs. “My mom was great at singing me to sleep. Or kissing my bruises. But tact isn’t her strength.”
Heaviness sets into Jordan’s chest. Cheryl’s not the best cook. She’s a gossip who puts way too much effort into his love life. But she’s never said anything to crush Jordan’s dreams. Especially not at such a young age.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It only bothered me for a few days.”
“What happened?”
“My neighbor had one of those pool birthday parties. Mom dressed me in a polo shirt and nice khakis. She told me to leave my red shorts and sunglasses at home. But when I got there—”
Jamie pauses.
Jordan cranes his head to admire him. Fire flickers in those deep brown eyes.
“—the birthday boy was wearing a shark onesie! And his older sister had pink hair, a septum piercing, and a fucking FUTURE BURGER FLIPPER T-shirt on.”
Jordan shakes with laughter.
“That’s when I realized we were kids,” Jamie says defiantly. “No one gave a shit about impressing anyone. I decided to stop caring too.”
“Bold decision for a nine-year-old.”
“Do I need to remind you I’ve always been very mature for my age?”
“Yeah, yeah. What happened after that?”
“At first,” Jamie persists, “I still did what my parents expected while secretly being myself. But once I turned thirteen? Well…”
“God, I would’ve paid money to see that,” Jordan says wistfully.
Jamie pokes his chest. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“Tell me something no one else knows. Not even Denz.”
Jordan ponders. His fingers continue threading through Jamie’s hair. He watches the sky go from dense charcoal to blue gray. Like the sun’s just on the other side. And Atlanta’s gradually waking up from a bad dream.
He swallows thickly. “When I was young, I had nightmares.”
Jamie tips his head back to look at him fully. “Nightmares?”
He nods. It takes him a minute to go on. Jamie gives him space. He doesn’t rush him.
Eventually, Jordan describes the big, empty house he’s never lived in. The grisly shadows that chased him down hallways. His mom and Tevin and everyone in his family missing. The letter from a dad he’s never met.
All the things that kept him up until dawn.
He’s careful to leave out that the nightmares have returned. That, some nights, his eyes don’t close until deep into the hollow hours. Sometimes, not at all. That the only moments those images can’t haunt him are in ones like this.
After being around Jamie.
When Jordan’s finished talking, Jamie’s right there. Face-to-face. A breath apart. His fingers light against Jordan’s cheek. His smile as naked as their bodies.
He whispers, “I won’t leave you.”
Jordan snorts to stop his heart from bursting through his chest. “Shut up. It was just a nightmare.”
Jamie holds his gaze. “Jordan, I won’t leave you,” he repeats, louder, genuine. “I won’t.”
An achy breath moves through Jordan. Fast, pointed, echoing. But his heart settles.
He grins, wide and unexpected. “Is that a challenge, Jamie Peters?”
The corners of Jamie’s lips sharpen into a smirk. “You’re such a competitive shit.”
Jordan’s rebuttal is softened by a kiss.
“It’s my turn again,” Jamie says against his mouth.
“Okay. Tell me something.”
“No one knows this but you.” His voice is serious, his stare intense. “Only you.”
Jordan swallows. “Knows what?”
Faint blush creeps into Jamie’s cheeks. “I’m hard again.”