AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Told you. Pick you up at 4.30?
Harry sent back a thumbs-up emoji. Jack tucked his phone away and got back to work, and if he spent the afternoon counting the hours till he got to see Harry again, well, that was his business.
Harry climbed into Jack’s ute. “It was so good! The kids are super cute, and the teacher is nice, and I think it’s gonna be a really good placement,” he enthused, before Jack even had a chance to ask him how it went. He fell silent when he saw what was sitting on the bench seat next to Jack, and his brow creased in confusion. “Um, what’s that?”
Jack glanced at the carton of cider with a bunch of red roses on top of it. The roses had been a last-minute addition because they were half-price at the front counter of the bottlo, and now Jack wondered if it was a bit much. “Cider because you’ve spent the day with ankle-biters, and roses because I wanted to surprise my boyfriend?”
Harry’s expression melted into a pleased smile. “Best boyfriend ever,” he declared, and his smile widened. “Is it weird how much I like calling you that?”
Jack rolled his eyes and grinned back. “If it’s weird, then we’re both weird, because I like hearing you call me that.” He leaned across and kissed Harry’s cheek. The way Harry flushed pink was something he’d never get sick of seeing. He pulled out into the traffic, and Harry spent the drive chattering excitedly about the kids in his class and the other teachers. Jack let the words roll over him, distracting him from the inevitable traffic snarls they encountered on the way home.
Tristan was out when they got back to the house. Jack called dibs on the shower and peeled out of his oil-stained hi-vis and washed the dirt of the day’s work off himself. Then he dressed in an old pair of jeans that he knew made his arse look good and a singlet, because he’d figured out that Harry liked seeing his tats, and frankly he was hoping they could make out.
Harry obviously had the same idea, because as soon as Jack plopped himself down on the sagging couch, he straddled his lap and kissed him. He cupped Jack’s face like he thought he might try to get away. As if. They kissed for what felt like hours, mouths open, breath coming in short pants, and Jack got to sneak his hands under the hem of Harry’s shirt and run his hands over the warm skin of his back and feel the play of muscles under skin as Harry arched into his touch. Jack could feel himself getting hard, hips rocking up instinctively, and he could tell that Harry was hard, too. Jack’s hand skated over Harry’s ribs and his fingers crept around to his chest, his thumb brushing over one nipple, and Harry let out a startled squeak against his mouth. Jack wondered briefly if they’d get to have a repeat of last night, but then Harry pulled back, lips red and kiss-swollen, and let out a long, shaky breath. “I—we should stop.”
Jack cursed himself internally for taking things too far. “Sorry. Was it too much?”
Harry’s face did something complicated. “Yes. No. I—it wasn’t too much, not in a bad way. I like what we’re doing, Jack. That’s kind of the problem—I really like it.” Harry seemed desperate to reassure him, and Jack felt a surge of affection that existed quite apart from whatever was going on in his pants. He still had no clue why they’d stopped though, so he raised an eyebrow in query, and Harry turned an adorable shade of pink. “I was planning on wearing these pants tomorrow, okay? I went all day without getting paint or glue on them and everything. But if you keep touching me like that, I’m going to make a mess of them in about four seconds.”
Jack felt relief wash through him, because here he was worrying about breaching Harry’s boundaries, and all Harry was worried about was the state of his pants. In fairness, it was a valid concern, given that their shitty little washing machine always seemed to be on the verge of breaking down. He slipped his hands down Harry’s bare skin and withdrew them from inside his shirt, settling them on the safer territory of Harry’s cloth-covered hips. “Better?” he asked, leaning their foreheads together.
“No,” Harry grumbled, and crawled off his lap, settling next to him on the couch and looking distinctly miffed, presumably at his own body. Jack couldn’t blame him. Blue balls were a hell of a thing, and it must be so much worse for Harry, who was new to all this. But Harry also wasn’t offering to take his pants off, and Jack wasn’t about to push him. They’d get there, whatever that meant for them, when they got there.
“I could murder a cider,” he said, in an effort to distract them both.
That earned him a grateful smile. “Oh, you mean a boyfriend cider, the cider that my boyfriend bought me, because he’s the best?”
“That’s the one,” Jack agreed. He went to the fridge and grabbed the drinks, resisting the urge to press the cold can against his aching dick. Instead he distracted himself by rummaging in the cupboard under the sink until he found an ugly brown ceramic jug that could conceivably be a vase if they squinted just right. He filled it with water and jammed Harry’s roses into it, then carried the jug to the coffee table and set it there. He prodded at the flowers a bit in an attempt to make them look artistic. He wasn’t sure he succeeded, with the arrangement having a distinct lean to the left and a couple of sticky-outy bits that he couldn’t quite make sit right, but hey, it was the thought that counted, right?
Harry tilted his head as he took in the arrangement. “As a florist, you make a great mechanic,” he said finally, and the way the corners of his mouth tugged up in an endearing smile suggested that he appreciated Jack’s efforts anyway.
Jack just laughed and handed him his cider. They spent some time trading lazy, apple-flavoured kisses that despite their best efforts grew ever more heated. They ended up running their hands all over each other, until Harry let out a low moan that went straight to Jack’s dick and pulled back abruptly.
“I, um. I’m gonna go…shower,” Harry said, blushing furiously and scrambling for the bathroom.
Jack smiled to himself as he reheated the leftover Thai, and if the wide smile on Harry’s face and the way his whole body was loose and relaxed when he came back into the kitchen was anything to go by, Jack guessed Harry’s balls weren’t quite as blue as they had been.
After dinner, they settled on the couch in what was rapidly becoming Jack’s favourite position with Harry pressed against his side, solid and real under his fingertips where he rested his hand. Whatever his shampoo was, it smelled good—warm and woodsy and vaguely spicy.
“Are you sniffing my hair?” Harry mumbled.
“No,” Jack said. “I’m smelling your shampoo. It’s different.”
Harry snorted. “Sure.” He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, his ratty old tee riding up and revealing a strip of skin. “I’m going to bed. I’m not used to being up before ten, and I’m going to have to get up early for the next two weeks.”
Jack made a sympathetic noise, remembering how hard it had been to get used to early starts. “Yeah, I’m going as well.” There didn’t seem much point in staying down here watching TV on his own while he waited for Tristan to come staggering in—or not. It was always a fifty-fifty chance with Tris as to whether he’d make it home.
Harry turned towards him, hands twisting together in his lap. “Did you want to, um.” He bit his lip. “Did you want to come and sleep in my room?” The words spilled out of him all in a rush, and his eyes were wide and hopeful. He looked like a puppy. A sexy, sexy, glasses-wearing puppy.
Jack put one hand over Harry’s, stilling his nervous movements. “I’d really like that.” He took a second to appreciate that Harry was braver than he’d ever be—after all, it was Harry who’d been the one to kiss Jack first, and it was Harry who was, once again, striking fearlessly out into unknown waters here.
He stood and held out a hand and pulled Harry up off the couch. “Just to sleep, right?” he said, so Harry didn’t have to.
Harry flashed him a relieved smile. “Yeah. Is that all right?”
Jack put his arms around him and pulled him close. “Absolutely anything you want is all right with me.”
Harry kissed him long and slow, then he tugged at Jack’s hand and headed for the stairs. Jack followed him willingly.
