Chapter one #4
So Jake returned to the mess, gathering the records to fix what he could. To put it back. Somewhere it made sense.
“Sorry,” he muttered, more to the box than anything else. “Some might be damaged.”
“It’s fine.”
Jake nodded, not quite looking at him, still trying to stack them the way they’d been. The right way. The way they should be.
Harrison lingered. Then, “Do you want them?”
Jake froze. “You what?”
Harrison nodded at the scattered music. “The records. CDs. I don’t… They shouldn’t just sit in a box. They should go to someone who’d appreciate them.”
Jake stared at the collection. It was a decent horde. Normally, he’d have jumped on it. But he shook his head. “Thanks, but…” He pushed a hand back through his hair. “I’d rather not.”
Harrison frowned. “Oh.” He glanced down, as if hurt. Or unsure why the sudden rejection. “I thought you said you’d kill for it.”
“Aye, normally I would. It’s a good collection.” Jake chewed the inside of his cheek. “Some proper rare stuff. But I’ve got most of it, anyway.”
That wasn’t the real reason.
They both knew it.
Jake stared at the sleeve beneath his thumb, then swallowed what little pride he had left. If they were doing this—whatever this was—then maybe Harrison needed to understand why Jake kept pushing. Why all these weeks of missed chances were starting to get under his skin.
“But…I’d rather not have these sitting in my crappy bedsit to remind me how you obviously had someone pretty awesome once.
Someone who got…all of you.” He bowed his head, hair falling past his face when he said the most vulnerable part.
“Not when I’m here…filling space after it.
Hanging about, hoping you’ll give me five minutes of your time. ”
Silence.
Thick enough that Jake could feel it pressing against his skin.
He shifted beneath it, suddenly wishing he could shove every word back into his mouth.
This was why he didn’t fucking talk about things.
Why he flirted and took the piss and turned everything into sex before anyone could get close enough to see what was underneath.
So, naturally, he did exactly that.
He tutted and summoned a crooked half-smile he didn’t remotely feel. “Not that I want a bloody kiss or owt.”
He then turned back to the mess on the ground, trying to gather the records, fix what he’d broken, put something back into order.
But Harrison stepped closer and cupped his chin, pulling his face back up to look at him.
Jake’s breath caught as he met those deep brown eyes he’d been trying not to look in too deeply for weeks.
Too late now. And his heart kicked hard enough he was sure Harrison could feel it beneath his fingers.
Especially when, a breath away from his lips, Harrison said, “Then shut up and kiss me.”
God. Fuck. Yes. Finally.
“Aye,” Jake breathed out. “I can do that.” He then slipped his hand around Harrison’s neck, pulling him down closer to do just that.
And fuck…when he pressed his lips to Harrison’s, it hit hard. Soft and sweet, yet brutal in its hesitancy. And it sparked in Jake’s chest, making him draw out a sound from his throat he wasn’t sure he’d ever made before.
Weeks of near-misses, half-moments, everything unsaid, went right into that kiss.
And Jake pushed up from his crouch, closing the space properly, brushing his chest to Harrison’s, heat sparking where they met.
He didn’t think about where they were. About the dead husband, or the boxes, the past sitting in this unit, or anything beyond how Harrison felt in his hands.
Under his mouth. The way he kissed right back.
Because he did.
God, he did.
Matching him. Giving as good as he got.
Harrison held him there as the kiss spun out of control, sliding his hands under Jake’s hair to grip nape of his neck.
Then he backed up a step, hitting the wall of the unit with a dull thud, and Jake stepped in closer, well aware of how he fit there, how this older man took him in, invited him into his space.
It went straight to his head. And he kissed him harder, desperation breaking through as he hummed into his mouth as if starved of this.
Then Harrison’s leg vibrated. Sharp and electric.
Jake stilled, breath coming hard as he pulled to look at him, dropping his forehead to Harrison’s. “You fucking kidding me?”
Harrison laughed, but he kept his hand on the back of Jake’s neck, under his hair, rubbing his thumb in circles along his skin.
He reluctantly fumbled his phone out from his back pocket, as if he didn’t want this to stop either.
As if he had every intention of continuing once he cut off whoever was calling him.
But when he glanced at the screen, his expression changed immediately.
He answered it. “Black.”
Jake stayed where he was. Right in Harrison’s space. Hoping. Wishing. Praying.
Then he heard the stern voice through the speaker, “Sorry to pull you off TOIL, Black, but we’ve got you another one.”
Harrison met Jake’s gaze, reluctance and regret right there in those eyes. “On my way now, sir.”
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