Chapter 34 – Luke
LUKE
He got home from his meeting and plopped onto the couch as Marley shuffled to his own bed in the corner. Luke felt alert and grateful. No anxiety.
Last night with Jack's parents had been profound. The Colonel calling him "Son." Jack's promise not to let him down.
And now Luke wanted Jack back in his house, in his bed, pressed up against him until there was no space left to misread.
That clarity was gold, and it strengthened his resolve to be clearer about what he wants moving forward.
Luke texted Jack.
“Good morning. Thanks again for last night. You were so thoughtful and sweet. And that burrata!”
He put the phone down and went to start a pot of coffee, but the phone chimed back at him before he could.
“Hi! Thanks. You're the sweet one. I'm still smiling.”
"I want to see you today.”
“Really? Same here. What do you want to do?”
“Can you come over to my place at noon?”
“Anything you say.”
Luke looked at that for a second, then typed:
“And bring a toothbrush.”
There was a pause longer than the others, then:
On my way.
Luke took his time getting ready. A long, hot shower, his favorite shampoo, soap, and lotion, top to bottom, a slow shave. He stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel, and assessed his pecs and shoulders—full, rounded, balanced. His abs caught the light when he shifted.
He put on his sexiest briefs under his favorite jeans that were soft and not too tight. A plain white T-shirt under a button-up with the sleeves rolled, tucked in, and a brown leather belt. He wanted Jack to go through a process of getting him skin-to-skin.
Candles. Eucalyptus and rosemary through the house, vanilla in the kitchen.
"I’m ready," he told Marley.
He looked at the clock. 11:55.
A knock at the door.
Jack stood in the May light, wearing a snug black polo, crisp khakis, and Chelsea boots. His dark hair gleamed. His face wore that unguarded, almost-asking expression, the severe planes of it softened by wanting.
He was holding a bouquet of spring blossoms.
"Come in," Luke said, taking the flowers, touched by the gesture and impressed that Jack had made it.
"Wow," Jack said. "You look amazing."
"So do you." Luke put the flowers in water and set the vase on the dining table. "Thank you for these."
They stood, smiling at each other, six feet apart. The only sound was Marley's long, loud sigh.
"Can I give you a hug?" Jack asked.
Luke nodded, and they stepped toward each other. Jack's arms wrapped around him—that enveloping warmth, the sheer breadth of the man—and Luke wrapped his arms around the impossibly wide back and held on.
"Luke," Jack said into his hair.
"Hey."
"Hey."
They pulled back just enough to look at each other, and then they were kissing—soft at first, testing, and then their mouths opening wider, the circuit closing with a snap Luke felt from his throat to his knees.
He ran his fingers up the back of Jack's neck, pulled back, and smiled. "Good God."
"I know," Jack said.
"Take your shirt off."
Jack pulled the polo over his head in one motion, his biceps flexing. Luke ran a finger through his chest hair, down to the appendix scar, then slid both hands around to his ropey, muscled back.
"Now mine," Luke told him.
Jack undid each button with deliberate care, unhurried. He slipped the shirt off Luke's shoulders, draped it over a chair, then reached for the T-shirt's hem and drew it slowly over Luke's torso and head.
They pressed together, heart to heart, the heat and the patience of it stewing as they slowly stroked each other’s hair and took slow, deep breaths.
They found the bedroom without rushing, and Jack sat on the edge of the bed, drawing Luke to stand between his knees. He put his hands on Luke's hips and took in the sight of him.
Before long, Jack fell to his knees and looked up. "Is this okay?"
Luke bit his lower lip and nodded.
Jack seemed to be taking his time—worshipful and precise, Luke felt, like Jack was savoring and learning every detail of Luke's body, the way you learn something you intend to keep. Jack slowly kissed Luke’s cock from the base to the tip, then wrapped his lips around it, sucking softly.
Luke didn't know what to do: surrender to this indescribable pleasure or hold off for a delayed reward.
Jack had his own ideas. He freed Luke from his mouth, looked up, and said, “Can I say something?”
Luke sat next to him and Jack took Luke's face in his hands.
"Luke, I've spent my whole life trying to stay in control," Jack said quietly. "It's my comfort zone. I don't have to fight or defend myself when I'm managing everything."
He put a hand on Luke's shoulder.
"I don't want to be disconnected anymore. Not from you." He kissed Luke softly on the lips, then on his hands and each fingertip.
When he was done, Jack tilted his head slightly, his eyes wide open.
"Take me, Luke,” he whispered. “I want to give myself to you. Please."
Luke gave him a dreamy smile and ran his index finger along Jack's crooked nose. He kissed the tip of the nose, then Jack’s lips.
“I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
Luke rubbed Jack's shoulders, his traps, and the back of his neck, his hands moving down Jack's spine in long strokes. Jack rolled over, and Luke kissed his way down Jack's upper back, across his lower back, gently pushing Jack's knees apart.
"Oh, God," Jack breathed. "It's been so long since anyone—"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Never. Please."
Luke continued slowly, reading every shift in breath. When he reached for the nightstand, he kept a hand on Jack's back.
"I want to be inside you, Jack. Are you ready?"
Jack lifted his hips and reached back. "Yes. Please."
Luke slicked his finger and pressed gently.
"Easy," Jack said. "It's been a while."
"I know. Relax."
He worked carefully until Jack was pressing back against him.
"More," Jack breathed. "Now. Please, Luke. God."
Luke positioned himself and slowly, firmly pressed the first part of himself into Jack. Jack inhaled sharply, and Luke stopped.
"Breathe," Luke said. "Breathe and relax, baby."
He pulled out, gave Jack a moment, and then tried again, this time sliding all the way in.
"Oh God," Jack said. "That's perfect."
It was a more subdued pace than when Luke had bottomed for Jack, but no less intense. As they grew more accustomed to the reversed dynamic, Jack said, "I want to see you."
He flipped onto his back and guided Luke back inside him, locking his ankles at the base of Luke's spine. "I want to see your face."
"Let go, Cash," Luke said softly. "Let go."
Jack's eyes were wet at the corners. Not from pain.
"Cash," Jack said. "I'm your Cash tonight. Call me Cash."
"You've always been Cash," Luke said, taking Jack’s face in his hands. "My Cash. Let go."
JACK
He stared up at Luke—beautiful, golden, devastating—and finally that nagging crack in his chest burst open wide, like someone had uncaged his lungs, and he gasped for air.
This was it. This was exactly what he'd been so afraid of. And it was unspeakably wonderful.
Luke moving inside him, spreading warmth through his whole body, into his arms and legs and fingers. Luke's eyes on his, steady and sure.
Luke hit the spot inside Jack again, and Jack's whole body arched, a sound escaping his throat that he'd never made before, guttural and unintelligible.
It felt incredible, the fullness, the friction, the way Luke kept finding new depths until Jack's eyes rolled back in his head.
This is what he had always been missing, so intent on being in control during sex—always measuring, always timing his moves, keeping himself at a careful distance from too much sensation. He'd mistaken that for strength.
But now he felt more whole, more alive, more of a man than he had in years, maybe ever.
Luke's rhythm changed—deeper, more insistent—and Jack felt his control fraying fast. His hands found Luke's shoulders and gripped hard, not to slow him down but to anchor himself.
"Luke," he gasped. "I can't … I'm going to… "
"Yes," Luke whispered, lips at his ear. "I've got you."
Jack let go.
His whole body shook, his climax tearing through him in waves, Luke's name somewhere in his throat. He felt Luke follow. Heard him. Felt the warmth of it and pulled him down and held him there, not ready to let any space back in between them.
He lay there, Luke still inside him, and tried to bring his breath back to normal.
He'd given himself completely, and he hadn't disappeared. The physical pleasure, God, he hadn't expected that. Hadn't known his body could feel like that. So completely overwhelmed, so entirely present, so fucking good.
"You okay?" Luke whispered, kissing his forehead.
Jack nodded, not trusting his voice. Then: "That was..."
"Yeah?"
"I've never..." Jack took a shaky breath. "I've never let anyone take me like that."
Luke's hand cupped his face. "Thank you for trusting me."
"Thank you for catching me."
Later, after they'd showered and eaten and the day had softened around them, Jack found himself beside Luke on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, not quite sure how long they'd been sitting.
He reached for Luke's hand without looking. Their fingers fit together easily.
"We good?" Jack asked quietly.
Luke turned his head. His expression was open and steady, offering reassurance more than asking for it.
"Yeah," Luke said. "We are."
Jack squeezed once, firm and certain, and nestled his head on Luke’s shoulder.