Caught Running (21 page)

Jake hitched his hips up higher, fighting against the burn and yet trying to pull Brandon closer with his foot wrapped around the man's hips. “Stop talking,” he gasped with a smile, reaching for Brandon's shoulders again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Brandon pushed harder, looking down to see his cock disappearing into Jake. “Fuck,” he whispered before he started rocking his hips. Jake curled in on himself, gasping as his fingers dug into Brandon's arms. Shuddering, Brandon kept moving slowly. “Okay?” he breathed.

Jake's back arched again, his body writhing against the intrusion while still begging for more. “Yes,” he managed to groan in a strained voice. He pulled again at Brandon's shoulder, urging him to go faster. Grunting quietly, Brandon drew back and thrust in with more force. Jake called out a wordless cry and reached up to press his hands against the headboard again, pushing back against the thrusts and curling his knees closer for a better angle.

Brandon closed his hands on Jake's hips, sliding to cup his ass as he began thrusting in earnest, breaths getting harsh as he used more force. He knew he was repeating himself, but he couldn't help it. “Fuck, you're gorgeous,” he hissed.

Jake barely heard him, all his considerable concentration resting solely on the pressure inside him and the fucking fantastic feeling. He made a sound in response though, something between a whimper and a grunt, and he tightened the grip of his knees on Brandon's waist.

Seeing the other man's focus, Brandon settled into a fast, pounding rhythm. He wanted to knock Jake right out of that daze. He wanted to hear him scream, just once.

"Oh fuck,” Jake gasped desperately, throwing his head back as the muscles of his arms flexed against the headboard in a pounding rhythm. “Fuck, Brandon!” he cried out, pleading.

Squeezing his eyes shut to help cling to his control, Brandon kept up the punishing thrusting, pathetically grateful for the years of running that gave him endurance now, although the slick pressure around his cock was swiftly driving him to the edge.

Jake finally let go of the headboard, unable to resist the desperate need to wrap around the man inside him. He dragged his hands down Brandon's back and pressed his face against his shoulder, yelling out uncontrollably and writhing as his orgasm hit him.

The wild sound ripped the last of Brandon's control away, and after a few more hard thrusts, he threw his head back in a nearly silent sob and came in several pulses, each time sapping more of his strength until he leaned over and held Jake protectively. Jake was gasping for breath by the time Brandon's motions ceased, and he curled around Brandon like a large cat with a prized plaything and nuzzled him as he tried to regain some air.

Brandon shivered, panting and clutching at the man who held him so close, and he felt a sting in his eyes that he had to push away for his own sanity. He turned his chin to press a soft kiss to the crown of Jake's head, allowing himself that one outlet of tenderness until he knew Jake would welcome more. Jake raised his head into the contact and practically purred as he nuzzled against Brandon's mouth and chin. It was all too easy to capture Jake's lips in a soft, wet kiss, expressing with actions what he didn't dare say in this vulnerable moment. Brandon knew it would pass, and he'd find his composure again. For now, he needed to be careful, and it tore at him as being so, so unfair.

Sitting at his desk, ostensibly grading essays as his class worked in groups to plan their semester projects, Brandon stared at a paper, outwardly the picture of studious focus. But inwardly he was thinking nothing about grading papers and everything about biology. It had been terrible dragging himself out of Jake's bed and Jake's arms at 5:30 this morning; it had been even worse to gently kiss the sleeping man's forehead and leave the house to head to school.

It was easier to get back to work than he'd expected. He wasn't too distracted; it was like his memories and thoughts about the weekend just receded. They were no less important, but they didn't jockey for attention unless he deliberately focused on them. Like now.

The sex last night had been equal parts rough passion and tender touching, enough of a dichotomy that it would drive Brandon's analytical mind over the edge if he let it. He was trying hard to not give Jake reason to throw something at him. Now, away from Jake, he was fighting the urge to go out to the gym and find him. He was undecided about eating lunch in the teachers’ lounge in about an hour. He wondered if he would see the man he was now thinking of as “My Jake” rather than “Coach Campbell.” His lover really was two separate people.

His lover. What a thought. Did two days make that appellation true? Or did it have to last longer? Jake's actions and even words indicated he was interested in keeping Brandon around, and Brandon wasn't going to disagree. How Jake held him when they drifted off to sleep convinced him that the other man had to feel something for him, even if it was just friendly affection colored by heated desire.

One of the girls trying to get his attention pulled the science teacher out of his thoughts. Brandon set aside the essays and got back to work. But Jake was right there, on the edge of his awareness.

The real Jake stalked through the crowded cafeteria, glaring at kids who got too loud and stealing fries off the plates of kids he knew. He was able to keep all thoughts of what had gone on the past weekend cleanly out of mind. It was the game-face advantage, honed over many years. He'd taken a brief moment to be disappointed when he woke alone, and a slightly longer time smiling uncontrollably as he remembered the night before. And he'd spared a few moments of thought to wonder how they would treat each other if they saw each other before practice. Jake honestly didn't know how he would react. Would he be friendly and familiar with the man? Or would his other instincts kick in and make him hide behind his newspaper like he always did?

Jake prayed for the former and quietly dreaded the latter as the bell rang.

Brandon was still undecided about lunch. His normal plan was about 50/50, depending on what work he wanted to accomplish. Considering how little work he'd gotten done over the weekend, he should have been more behind, but his classes were in a lull between tests. He looked down at the essays, not at all interested in reading them. He was more interested in going to the lounge on the off chance that Jake might be there.

But what would he say? How would he act? What if other people were there and Brandon retreated into his turtle shell while Jake went back to brash and boisterous? What if there were
no
other people there besides Jake? Would he be the easygoing guy he'd been with Jake or would he turn back into his quiet, withdrawn self?

Finally he rolled his eyes at his fretting. Christ. He was acting like a high school kid with a crush.
You do have a crush
, he reminded himself with a wince. Time would tell how much of one, but right now it felt pretty damn serious. He decided to go to the lounge. He didn't want to hide. Brandon grabbed his planner, an apple and the sandwich he'd made at Jake's the night before, and left his classroom for the trek to the commons area.

Jake stood in the middle of the hall, towering over the sea of kids coming and going for the third lunch period with a long walking stick held over his shoulders like a water carrier. He was essentially on Brute Squad duty, and as soon as the kids filtered out of the halls he could see to his own lunch.

Brandon turned the corner, walking with one eye on his planner and one on the kids in front of him, heading around the circle to the wide hallway that led to the commons, occasionally jostled by the kids on their way to lunch. It didn't bother him, and he murmured a hello and pushed up his glasses when a few different students greeted him.

Jake turned, recognized the telltale bowed head of his weekend lover, and smirked, his stomach flipping quite inappropriately. He began to ease his way through the thinning crowd of kids, setting his large body in Brandon's path as the man came toward him with his eyes on his planner.

Brandon glanced to the side when a group of girls pushed past him, hitting his elbow and apologizing as they kept walking. He shook his head and barely came to an abrupt stop just before he walked right into a very recognizable chest. Both Brandon's brows flew up as he juggled the planner, the apple and the sandwich while chancing a look up at Jake.

Jake grinned at him and winked. “Watch where you're walkin', buddy,” he murmured in a voice low enough that none of the kids would hear him and mistake it for anything but teasing.

Brandon's lips twitched into a smile, and he realized it was going to be okay. Now that he was with Jake—it was all okay. “Hey, Coach,” he greeted. “Have a good weekend?” he asked evenly, but his eyes sparkled. No one would think anything of the two coaches talking in the hall.

"Coulda been better,” Jake answered with a shrug and a twitch of his lips.

Amusement clear on his face, Brandon just nodded. “Well, that's too bad,” he sympathized, nodding to one of the varsity players who walked by. “My weekend was spectacular. Going to lunch?” he asked, holding up the apple.

"Yeah,” Jake answered with a huge grin as he reached out and took the apple with a cheeky “Thanks."

Brandon didn't even try to swipe it back. “Lounge?” he asked, turning to continue down the hall.

Jake jerked his head in that direction and made one more sweep of the hallway. Most of the kids had filtered into or out of the lunch rooms, and his duty was now over. He lowered his stick and walked alongside of Brandon, discreetly using it as a sort of cane. “How's your day been?” he asked with a smile he couldn't seem to repress.

"Not too bad for a Monday. I'm only a little behind on my grading,” Brandon answered. “How's your knee?” he asked in a casual tone.

"Hurts like a bitch,” Jake answered candidly, still smiling in an almost serene way as they walked. “My ankle's kickin’ it up again, too. The tendon's tight,” he said, not realizing that that was more information he ever gave anyone about his aches and pains, even his closest friends.

Brandon made a noncommittal noise. They'd gotten too wrapped up in each other yesterday for Brandon to try a treatment, and Jake had claimed he wasn't hurting at all. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely as they entered the noisier commons area. “Do they always make you hobble down here for hall duty?” he ribbed, a smile flitting around the corners of his mouth.

"I'm the only teacher not afraid to beat a kid with a stick,” Jake joked as he waved his makeshift cane around. “I get it three times a week unless there's a game,” he answered more seriously.

"That's a lot; I only draw it once every two weeks or so,” Brandon said as he pushed open the door to the lounge.

"Welcome to the world of P.E.,” Jake responded with a smirk as he followed Brandon into the room. A careful glance showed the room was empty, and Jake placed the end of his stick at the base of the door as soon as it had closed and pulled Brandon to him to give him a quick kiss. “Hi,” he said as he let Brandon go.

Brandon's eyes widened as he was quickly kissed and just as quickly released. His features softened as he looked up at Jake. “Hi,” he replied.

"I don't like this you leaving at the crack of dawn arrangement,” Jake growled.

Brandon's heart skipped a beat. “You don't?"

"No,” Jake sulked until he heard a shuffle of feet outside the door. He waited for a moment as they passed and then grinned widely. “You giving me a ride home?” he asked softly.

"I'd like to,” Brandon murmured, stepping away from the door and Jake. He immediately felt cooler away from the coach's body heat.

Jake spared a moment to give Brandon a predatory once over, and then smiled and nodded. He took the stick away from the door and his “Coach” mask fell back into place. He took a bite of his stolen apple and nodded at the table in the corner. Brandon wandered in that direction after greeting the two teachers who came in. He stopped at the Coke machine for a diet soda while Jake went to the mini-fridge and retrieved his water. They'd actually done this a few times already, to talk baseball, so it wasn't new. But it felt new.

Jake took another bite of his apple and grinned as he chewed. The door to the lounge opened, but Jake didn't turn to see who entered.

"Brandon, aren't you checking your messages? I called you this weekend about the A.P. paperwork,” Rhonda said, moving to stand at their table, where she flipped her shoulder forward seductively. “Hi Jake,” she said with a pretty smile. “I don't think we've actually been introduced.” She turned an expectant look toward Brandon.

The science teacher cleared his throat. “Rhonda, this is Jake Campbell, P.E. teacher and head coach for football, weightlifting and baseball. Jake, this is Rhonda Anderson, chemistry teacher and academic team coach."

Rhonda stuck out her hand. “Jake,” she practically gushed. “Brandon has told me so much about you.” Brandon gave her a clear look of disbelief.

"Has he?” Jake responded with a glance at Brandon and a barely restrained smirk as he took the woman's hand. Brandon resisted rolling his eyes.

"Oh yes. And the kids love you as a coach. I'd love to know some of your secrets,” Rhonda cooed.

Jake smiled as he extracted his hand and cleared his throat. “Then they wouldn't be secrets,” he told her, leaning back in his chair, away from the table and from her.

Brandon pressed his lips together as Rhonda's face fell. “Well, maybe another time. See you, Jake.” Rhonda turned away and fled, so embarrassed she didn't even say goodbye to her fellow science teacher.

Jake lowered his head a little, watching the door close out of the corner of his eye. When it shut he rolled his eyes and sighed. Brandon bit his lip and looked at Jake apologetically. Jake just shrugged and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and taking another bite of his stolen apple.

Unwrapping an overstuffed roast beef sandwich, Brandon set half on a napkin and nudged it toward the center of the table. “Remember what I said about that girlish figure?” he murmured before taking a bite.

"Not really,” Jake answered dubiously, sniffing at the sandwich. “What, you want me to eat that?” he asked in an incredulous voice.

Brandon frowned at him. “I
have
seen you eat."

Jake waved his apple around in evidence of the fact that he was eating and raised an eyebrow. “I ate about three dozen fries in the lunch room, too,” he snickered before taking another loud bite of the apple.

Brandon turned up his nose. “Girlish figure,” he muttered. “I can't eat that shit. I'd gain ten pounds."

"Well, lucky for me, I ain't a girl,” Jake returned with a cheeky shake of his head and a grin. Knowing it was an insult, Brandon picked a grape up and chucked it at Jake, hitting him right on the nose. “Oomph,” Jake muttered as the grape bounced off his nose and rolled across the floor. “Foul! I call foul!” he shouted as he stood up and pointed at Brandon.

Brandon cackled and leaned back in his chair, not even thinking about the teachers across the lounge who looked at them in surprise. Although it was becoming more common to see Campbell and Bartlett working together, this was new. Jake reached his walking stick across the table and poked Brandon in the shoulder with it. “Bully,” he sulked as he sat back down.

Laughing harder, Brandon swung his hand ineffectually at the stick and took another bite of his sandwich. “Wuss,” he poked, knowing it was anything but true.

Jake gave an outraged little squeak and held his hand to his heart as if he'd been wounded to his very soul. “I'm going back to my office,” he huffed as he stood up again, poking Brandon with the stick once more and grinning. “Don't forget to bring your pocket protector to the game,” he told Brandon as he made his way to the door, noticeably not limping in the presence of the other teachers.

"Funny, Campbell. Ha ha,” Brandon sniped, but he watched him all the way to the door before going back to his sandwich, sighing silently. Huh. That went well. They'd managed to be together in public without jumping each other; they'd even had normal conversation. Relieved, Brandon turned his mind to the next class period.