Page 52 of Burn this City

Well, made two of them. The touch had been intense while his head hadn’t been clear, but if he understood correctly, there was an opportunity for some more of that. Maybe he didn’t need to for that new start—provided he’d live to get the opportunity—to find out what he could feel if he gave himself that freedom. Of all possible men in this world, Sal Rausa had to count among the worst for a test run. But Jack might never get another opportunity to experience this if Sal did decide to kill him. Maybe this was the only chance he’d ever get in his life, and he already had more than his share of regrets.

“You’re pushing his buttons.”

And that was the thing. He didn’t normally feel this way. There had been two men in his life he’d felt attracted to, and both had been friendly first and foremost. The first had been Tony, a fellow soldier, made just a few weeks before Jack, and they’d spent a lot of time together trying to come up with schemes to make money. And while Jack laughed one day about a scheme that was getting more and more harebrained, he’d suddenly realized he wanted to kiss his friend. And now, thinking back, he thought Tony might have had a few such moments of temptation too, even though his success with dating was further bolstered by the way he flashed cash around. Jack had told himself that closeness was because their capo had leaned hard on them, but he’d still realized it wasn’t just about the easy comradery. You didn’t daydream about a friend.

The second man had been the physiotherapist who’d looked after him when Jack had managed to rip his ACL during a skiing trip. The aptly named Dr. Walker had advised him and helped him stabilize his knee with exercises. The man had been a good ten years older, well-groomed, patient, ultra-competent and silver-haired.

They’d hit it off well from the start, and Jack remembered how Dr. Walker had complimented him on his muscle tone and overall fitness and asked him whether he was a professional athlete or model. During the final check-up, he’d suddenly realized he wanted those competent hands everywhere on his body. But he’d pushed the notion away, and ignored what Jack now thought had been coded messages, such as the man indicating he’d gone on a trip to Mykonos with “a few friends” and he could recommend the “sights” on that island.

It was years later when Jack discovered that Mykonos was a famously gay-friendly island in the Mediterranean. Code was lost on those who hadn’t been handed a code book to decipher it. A few times, he’d considered finding Dr. Walker to confirm his suspicion, but he’d never followed up on it, and by now he was likely retired.

Nothing would hold him back this time.

When Jack stood, at least he no longer felt seasick; he was a little unsteady, but he could control his legs enough to walk in pretty much a straight line, though he didn’t dare turn his head and cast a glance at Enzo because his balance was too tenuous for that.

He followed the sound of running water to the bathroom, and saw Sal Rausa’s naked, wet form beyond the glass. His clothes lay in a pile on the chair to which Jack had been tied, shoes thoughtfully placed on the rim of the Jacuzzi, socks stuffed inside.

He noticed how Sal’s dark hair was plastered to his scalp, how his hands moved quickly and efficiently over his skin, and soap suds travelled down those long legs that were solidly braced against whatever the world might throw at him. And where Enzo was pleasant and dangerous to look at, well, Sal was in a universe all his own.

On socked feet, Jack walked across the plastic sheets and headed straight for the door of the shower. He opened it enough to slide under the soft, dense, steaming spray behind the man, and place a kiss between his shoulder blades. Jack was massively overstepping, and there was always the danger that Rausa would explode into more violence, but he was serious about having nothing to lose now.

Sal seemed to laugh tonelessly if Jack read his breathing correctly. He lifted his face into the water and reached behind himself, grabbed Jack by the hips and pulled him closer. “Didn’t even get undressed?”

“It seemed too much.”

Sal glanced at him over his shoulder. “Still hedging your bets, Jack? As the saying goes, there’s no such thing as safe sex.”

“Never heard that.” Jack found himself breathless and struggling for oxygen. He hadn’t thought further than the need to touch Sal, but of course it wasn’t Sal who was the blushing virgin.

“If you’d have ever joined us, my wife would have told you that good sex goes down to the soul like a damn knife.”

“Is that … is that what we’re doing?” Jack felt how Sal guided his hands, and his mind overloaded with the sensation of heated, slippery skin and shifting powerful muscle. Seeing it was dangerous. Feeling it—was far too much. How did people stand it? He placed another kiss on Sal’s shoulder, tasted the water on his lips, and moved closer to a kind of awkward and almost unbearable embrace. He felt Sal take a few deep breaths, his hands still on Jack’s. Nervous about his erection pushing against the wet cloth of his trousers, he wasn’t sure what he’d come for exactly. He had only a theoretical understanding how things would develop, what was even possible, what was wanted.

“I don’t think I have to tell you how fucking hot you are,” Sal ventured. “But that’s not why I don’t want to kill you.”

Jack drew back instinctively, but Sal pushed his hands harder against his own naked skin, holding him in place.

“Why then?”

“You have heart.” Sal pushed back against him. “I respect you.”

“You’ll be the only one in this town.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong.” Sal laced his fingers with Jack’s and squeezed. “Fuck them. My town, my rules.”

It wasn’t that easy, though right now under the shower, Jack might be able to fool himself long enough to bask in that wholly undeserved level of trust. He rested his head in the crook of Sal’s neck and shoulder, kept one hand where it was, and let the other one slide over the tensing muscles of his stomach,. He felt strangely anchored by how solidly Sal Rausa stood, like nothing could move him if he didn’t acquiesce. All that Sal’s hand on his did was give him confidence, because he certainly didn’t guide him.

When he slid past the belly button, Sal’s breathing pattern shifted, and he trembled very slightly when Jack’s fingers slid over trimmed, wiry hair and closed around his fully erect cock. Sal’s breath was much shallower now, and Jack kissed his neck. “Tell me if I do it wrong.”

“There’s no wrong, Jack. If I get a chance, I’ll show you how many right ways I know.” Sal chuckled again. “Though I’d really like it if you were naked.”

There was no way he’d break the contact now, though, certainly not to deal with pulling wet cloth off his body. He was far too fascinated and aroused by touching another man’s cock. It felt both familiar and very much not, in his hand. If anything, Sal’s was slightly thicker than his own as he ran his hand along the length first teasingly and carefully. He felt the tension in Sal’s body and ultimately it seemed like payback after what Sal had given him on the couch.

With every stroke, Sal’s muscles tightened, and Jack belatedly noticed that Sal’s ass was pushing back against him, definitely an invitation to push as well. It was dizzying, especially when Sal’s free hand deftly slid between them, and squeezed Jack’s cock in his trousers before opening his belt. He let Sal’s chest go to help him open the button and zip, and push the fly apart enough for Sal to slide his hand into Jack’s boxers. Then all control fled and Jack became a reckless, not always perfectly coordinated mess of movement and breath and pleasure. It was good, but awkward enough that Jack couldn’t quite come. And apparently he wasn’t great at handjobs, because while Sal seemed to enjoy himself, he also didn’t come and eventually turned around.

His eyes were positively glowing in his flushed face when he grabbed Jack’s head with both hands and kissed him deeply, passionately, wrecking what breath Jack had left. It didn’t matter anymore how dressed or undressed Jack was, though the next thing Sal did was nearly rip the shirt from his chest and push his boxers down to free his cock.

Sal bared his teeth in a dangerous grin, then winked and kissed him again. He pulled Jack closer against him, taking both their cocks in one hand, which was so intense Jack’s knees felt weak. Between the open-mouthed, heated kiss, and all that skin against his own, Jack lost himself in the pleasure. It was nothing like he’d ever imagined, nothing like what he did by himself—he’d never relished getting off, just considered it something of an annoying pressure valve he had to regularly release. Another part of a normal maintenance routine of sensible diet, good hydration, regular exercise. Sal Rausa blew all of that out of the water with the same abandon that he’d wrecked the rest of Jack’s life.

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