First Flight, page 8
“Your mother?”
“Yes.” Chris turned toward Jesse, though he couldn’t really see him. “Who am I?”
“You’re Christopher and Sings-like-water,” Jesse said.
“Who are they?”
“They’re my friend,” he said, patting along the bark of the tree until he found Chris’s hand. “I love them.” The words slipped from his mouth, easily, and for a moment he wondered just when he’d fallen for the strange young man.
“You only love Christopher,” Chris said, pulling his hand away.
“You were Sings-like-water first,” Jesse said, scooting over and putting his arm around Chris. “You’re still Sings-like-water. You love your spoon and eggs and liver and all good things like that, and, I don’t know, you’re better at being human. Even so, there’s still something different about you. Even Lucas noticed it and he doesn’t really know you. I love you, no matter what your name is. True, it’d be kind of weird to try to kiss a raven, and I’d never fit in a nest, but….”
“They don’t understand, either.”
What could he say to that? “I’m sorry.”
“I want to get down, now.”
It took them some doing to get out of the tree, but they managed. On the ground, in the faint light of the stars and the quarter moon, Chris caught hold of Jesse’s shirt and looked up at him. Jesse didn’t think about it, he just tipped his head, leaned down, and kissed him. He was gentle, this time, as he touched Chris, as he teased Chris’s mouth open; this time was theirs alone.
Chris whimpered as Jesse deepened the kiss, as Jesse touched him. He wrenched his mouth away, gasping. “More? Is there— I want— Show me,” he said, “Jesse—”
“Shh,” Jesse said, and led him over to the car. “Just lean there, yeah. Okay.” He started off with another kiss, slow and sweet, sliding his hands over Chris’s sides.
The heat of Jesse’s body, the feel of his hands and the taste of his mouth, they all drew him away from thinking and Chris was grateful for it. He tried to reciprocate, but he kept getting distracted and settled for just holding onto Jesse.
He shifted his weight, easing his left leg between Chris’s. “All right?”
“Uh-huh,” Chris said, letting his head fall back. Jesse was kissing his throat, the side of his neck, stopping when he got to the collar of his shirt. “Should I?” He let go of Jesse and put his hands on the top button of his shirt.
“If you want to,” Jesse said, and brushed a kiss across Chris’s lips.
“Yes,” he said and started unbuttoning. The idea of Jesse’s hands touching his skin, touching him without fabric in the way, made the little voice buzz with approval. Chris looked down as Jesse’s hands moved, but he was just undoing the buttons at the bottom of the placket. A few moments and their fingers met in the middle, getting in each other’s way instead of opening the last button.
“Let me,” Jesse said, “please?”
“Okay,” Chris said, nodding and letting his hands fall away. Once his shirt was open, Jesse pushed it back and pulled up the thin T-shirt he wore underneath, his hands spread wide across Chris’s skin. He hummed and moved his feet as Jesse’s fingers found his nipples; he made a throatier sound as he accidentally rubbed up against Jesse’s hip.
“Are you okay?” Jesse let go of him, peering at what he could see of Chris’s face. “Did that hurt?”
He shook his head and pulled the other young man closer. “It was good,” Chris said, curling his hands in Jesse’s shirt.
“Good,” Jesse said, and then he kissed Chris again, sweeping his thumbs over hard nipples.
Chris was beginning to get the hang of kissing, parting his lips in invitation and pressing his tongue to Jesse’s. His concentration moved lower almost immediately, however, as Jesse was pinching him. Not hard enough to hurt, but he’d never paid any real attention to the little round brownish-pink bits on his chest. He had no idea that they could feel like that. Each squeeze seemed to run straight down between his legs, and when he pushed himself up against Jesse, it was…. He tried to say something about it, but it just came out as a strange noise.
“Hey,” Jesse murmured into his ear, putting a scant inch or so of distance between them, “Chris? Can I”—he let his left hand drop down, covering the fly of Chris’s jeans and the definite erection behind it—“can I see you?”
“Dark,” Chris pointed out. His body wanted something more, but he didn’t know what and he had no words to ask for it.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, and pressed the heel of his hand down over denim. “Do you want me to, uh, go down?”
“Down where?” He didn’t want Jesse to go, not now. “Do you have to leave?”
“I’m not gonna leave you,” Jesse said and kissed him on the cheek. It was weird: Chris wasn’t refined or delicate or sheltered, he simply didn’t know. Still, somehow, talking to him about blow jobs just seemed wrong, like it would sully him or something. “No, I meant, uh, I can do something about this, if you want. I’d like to, but it’s up to you.” He pressed his hand down again.
“You can?” Chris pushed up into the pressure, closing his eyes. “Yes, please.”
“All right.” Jesse kissed him again, short little kisses from Chris’s cheek over his lips to his chin, bending his knees as he worked his way lower.
Chris opened his eyes because Jesse was kissing his chest and licking him and then— “Oh, what, what was that?”
“This?” Jesse carefully bit Chris’s right nipple and flicked it with the tip of his tongue, smiling as Chris moaned yes above him. Switching over to the left earned him a Jesse! and at that, he dropped to his knees.
Chris could only breathe and watch Jesse’s shadowy figure as he popped open the button on his pants, as he pulled the zip down.
“Oh wow,” Jesse said, his smile turning into a smirk as he discovered that Chris hadn’t bothered with underwear. “Bet that feels better. Look at that, mm.” He worked Chris’s jeans down a bit, then leaned forward and wrapped his hand around Chris’s cock.
“Uh-huh,” Chris squeaked, “I like that.”
Jesse made an amused sound and stroked him, slowly. He resisted the urge to say something cheesy, leaning forward instead and gently closing his mouth over the head. The half-expected cry still surprised him, the sound lost and wild.
Panting, he touched Jesse’s hair. “Jesse, what are you doing?”
“Going down on you. Do you want me to stop?”
“No! But….”
“What?” Jesse kept stroking him, slow and steady.
“It’s dirty?” But it had been so much better than just touching, and he really wanted Jesse to do it again. His little voice was somewhat confused, but didn’t object—couldn’t object, really.
“You took a shower this morning,” Jesse said, “you’re fine.”
“No, you have to wash your hands after the bathroom. So it’s dirty.”
Oh. That made an appalling amount of sense. “I love the way your mind works,” he said. “It’s okay, this time. If you’re really worried, I might have some condoms in the glove box.”
“It’s okay?” Finding condoms, whatever they were, would take time. And that meant he wouldn’t be going down. If Jesse said it was okay, then it must be.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, though he was compelled to add, “but it’s seriously up to you. If it’s going to bother you, I’ll find a rubber.”
“It’s okay,” Chris said, petting Jesse’s hair. “Go down again?”
“Awesome,” Jesse said.
Chris didn’t have a thought to spare for looking, though he was curious about what Jesse was doing; his whole world had become sensation. The wet heat of Jesse’s mouth and the touch of his hand—No, hands, Jesse was touching him with both hands, all of it good but not quite enough. “Almost—Jesse? More!” The last word was a moan as Jesse hummed around him and touched him again, another of those places he’d never thought of. Bright fire consumed him, a sharper, clearer pleasure than he’d ever known.
Jesse hummed again and ran his tongue around the head of Chris’s cock, teasing at the edge of his foreskin, hand moving steadily as Chris shivered and cried out above him.
He could do nothing but breathe as he regained his senses, breathe and settle back into his body, which felt strange. “Jesse, I can’t—” Chris wobbled and abruptly slid down the fender to sit on the ground, breathing fast and brain still fuzzy.
Jesse moved to sit beside Chris, putting his arms around him and tugging at him until Chris was more-or-less sitting in his lap. “You okay?”
“Don’t know,” Chris said, then yawned. He kissed Jesse, awkward but determined. To his delight, Jesse kissed him back, still holding him close. He scrunched down and curled up, tucking himself under Jesse’s chin. “That was good,” he said, after a few minutes of quiet.
“Yeah? Good. You ready to go home?”
“Okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Hand me the top sheet, would you?” Jesse held out his hand. “Thanks.”
Chris passed the soft cotton sheet over, silent.
Jesse spread the sheet out on his bed, then turned around. “You’re still thinking about yesterday, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Chris lifted his hands, then let them fall again.
He shook his head. “Screw it,” Jesse said, and walked around the end of Chris’s bed to put his arms around the other young man. “I’m sorry, Chris.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry that I can’t help.” Jesse put a hand on the back of Chris’s head. “Sorry I can’t make it right.”
Chris wrapped his arms around Jesse, let his head rest on his shoulder.
“I want to. God, I want to fix things. I love you, and I wish saying that would just fix it.”
Neither of them noticed Desmond creep by the open door.
Desmond knocked on the doorframe. “Jesse? I need to talk to you.”
His mouth went dry, but he nodded at his father and set his book aside. “Okay.”
“Let’s go down to the garage.” Desmond jerked his head in the general direction of the stairs, then walked off.
Jesse followed, anxiety making him twitchy as he tried to figure out what his dad wanted to discuss with him.
“So, uh, Jesse. I was walking down the hall yesterday.” Desmond opened the bottom drawer of his toolbox and closed it again, then opened the next one up. “I saw—”
“We’ll move out,” Jesse blurted. “Just give us a couple of weeks to find a place.”
“Let me finish,” Desmond said, shaking his head and realigning wrenches that didn’t need it. “I saw you and Chris, but I heard you too. Talking to him.”
“Oh.”
“And…. And, son, I….” He crossed his arms, stepping back from his workbench and turning to face the back wall of the garage. “I think I’ve been, uh… wrong. And maybe, probably, unfair.”
“Wrong?” Jesse shook his head and frowned at his father’s back. “What—”
“Because I didn’t listen to you. Or your mother. And yesterday….” He hunched up. “Yesterday, I heard you saying things I said… to your mother. Before you were born. And… I’m, uh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jesse said, a little absently, as he tried to grasp the idea that his dad was apologizing to him.
“I don’t think your mother would agree with that,” Desmond said, moving back to the workbench, a wry little smile coming and going. “But you and Chris don’t have to go anywhere. If you don’t want to. Just, uh, no details, and, uh, keep it down. Oh, and nothing excessive, uh, in front of company.”
“Well, there go our plans for the next barbecue,” Jesse said, his face as straight as he could make it.
Desmond looked at his son, and then he started to laugh with deep guffaws that seemed to leave him feeling lighter than when he’d started the conversation. “Sorry, Jess, but I just don’t want to have to explain to the insurance company how it is that Mr. and Mrs. Hanson died in our yard.” Then he sighed and glanced at the young man. “I don’t want to pry, and you can tell me it’s none of my business and I’ll leave you alone, but is there anything that you two need help with?”
Jesse laughed, too, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sobered and shrugged. “It’s not that it’s none of your business. It’s just a complicated family thing, and it’s nothing that can be changed right this second.”
“Okay,” Desmond said. “You’re my boy, you know.”
“Yeah.” Jesse nodded at him. “I know. Thanks, Dad.”
“Wait a second,” he said, looking up from brushing invisible dust off of the bench. “I thought he didn’t have a family?”
“He has a family. It’s just that they’re, not, uh….” Jesse waved a hand. “They weren’t, um, happy. To find out about him. Us.”
“They kicked him out?” Desmond looked grim.
“Kind of. Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“That’s not right.”
“No, it’s not.” Jesse hoped Chris and his parents would forgive the minor slander.
“We’re home,” Chris called, from the kitchen.
“Hey,” Jesse said, hurrying through the door that Chris held for him. “Thanks.”
“Hi, sweetie. Can you get the big stuff?” Leanna said as Jesse came around the end of the car. “Chris has the soft stuff, and I can get the rest of the bags.”
“Sure,” he said and gathered up jugs and boxes.
After the groceries were put away, Chris went off to look at the new issue of Birds & Blooms.
“Jesse,” Leanna said, leaning against the counter, “I know you’re fond of Christopher.”
“What’s the matter?” Jesse crossed his arms, wondering if his parents had actually swapped bodies. The idea was ludicrous, of course, and he discarded it. “You’re not gonna—”
“Chris and I had a little talk on the way home,” Leanna said, holding up a hand. “You and I both know there’s something not quite right about him. Don’t you dare take advantage of him, young man.”
“Take advantage—uh, just what did you, um, talk about?”
“The night before last. When you went out to your tree.”
Oh. Oh. Jesse covered his face with his hands, wishing he could melt into the linoleum. “Oh. Mom, do you really think I’d do that? What is with you and Dad today?”
“No. I just wanted to remind you,” she said, frowning. “What about your dad?”
“He came upstairs and asked me down to the garage, and then he said he was sorry,” Jesse said, folding his arms again. “About the rules. And then he basically said that they didn’t apply anymore. Or maybe just not to me and Chris.”
“Oh.” Leanna’s frown deepened as she thought about it. “How about that.”
“Except for the details part, but that’s not a problem.” Jesse sighed. “Anyhow, uh, did Chris say anything about, uh, his family?”
“No, he didn’t. Why?” Leanna brightened and straightened up. “Did you find his family? I bet they were so relieved to find out that he’s safe.”
“Well, kind of. They’re kind of—they weren’t, uh, thrilled. About me. And really not thrilled by the idea of me and Chris, uh, together.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, putting an arm around his shoulders, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. More or less, anyway.”
“Jesse said you two had a talk, today,” Leanna said, pulling the elastic out of her hair and running her fingers through it.
“Yeah,” Desmond said, as he dropped his socks into the laundry basket at the foot of their bed.
“Something about changing the rules?”
He watched his wife brush her hair for a moment. “Yeah. Uh, yesterday, I was goin’ down the hall and I heard Jess say ‘screw it’, so I looked in his room and he was huggin’ Chris. I was gonna yell at him, but….” Desmond took off his shirt. “That was all they were doing. And Jesse started talkin’ to him, tellin’ him he was sorry he couldn’t make things better for Chris. Sorry that loving him, saying ‘I love you’, that wasn’t enough.
“And I started thinking. Thought about you and me, when we were just married, and the bad time we went through. And I thought about how you and Jesse both tried to tell me I was being stupid. When he told us.”
“So you changed your mind?” Leanna put her brush down on the dresser and walked over to him.
