Christmas with Danny Fit (8 page)

“Well, you want that tummy, you need to go to my gym!”

Kit colored. “Nah. I think I’ll stick with Danny Fit, thank you.”

Jesse grimaced playfully. “Oh God! How’s a mere mortal going to compete! Danny Fit! God of gay fitness!”

“I didn’t know he was gay,” Kit said, wide-eyed, and Jesse saw the hero worship and rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, Kit, pop culture isn’t just for sci-fi—read a magazine at a checkout stand, whydontcha!”

“Oh.” Kit looked away, embarrassed, but not for long.

Imaginary, gay Danny Fit was tucked away on his DVD player, and live, cute-as-hell, willing-to-touch-him-and-like-him-for-who-Amy Lane

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he-was Jesse was
in his bed,
and getting ready to go down on him all over again.

Danny who?

THEY might have played in bed all day, but Jesse stretched at around one o’clock and said, “There’s a lot more we could do here, buddy, but I’m about all come out.” He rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin on Kit’s. Kit smiled at him and stroked his hair back from his face. It was a little bit greasy, because, hey, the guy had driven all night to see him, and him alone, and that was a reality Kit could live with.

“Did we want to try the, uhm,” Kit blushed, but he kept stroking Jesse’s hair.

“The thing?” Jesse supplied drily, and Kit nodded.

Penetration. Condom. Lubricant. The big A. The
thing.
Top or bottom, Kit was looking forward to it.

“Can we wait until after we get the kitten?” And Kit was a little stunned. He’d forgotten all about the kitten, and his expression showed it.

The face Jesse turned toward him was tragic. “You said we were going to get a kitten—you’re not going to go back on that, right? It was a promise!”

Kit blinked and saw a whole new Jesse. He put things together, about Jesse not wanting to visit his mom, and strings of boyfriends, and a slut-bag ex.

“Lots of people have broken promises to you, haven’t they, Jesse?” he asked, actually amazed at his own perceptiveness, and Amy Lane

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Jesse looked away.

“I…I just really wanted to get that kitten. I told Emmy I’d call her and tell her what kind we got.”

Kit nodded and sat up, and pulled Jesse closer to kiss his temple. “Absolutely. Adoption day at PetSmart. You shower, I’ll cook, you eat, I’ll shower. It’s a plan.

Jesse’s grin returned. “You don’t want to shower together?”

Kit looked away and blushed. “I’m, uhm, trying to keep that promise, remember?”

So they showered and ate breakfast instead.

Amy Lane

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Concerts and Funerals

IN THE end, they got two kittens, a brother and a sister, a boy with gray-and-white patches that they named Mal, and a girl with black-and-white patches that they named Zoe. Jesse had approved and helped Kit pick out the bowls and the cat boxes and the collars, and together they made the appointments for shots.

They took the kittens home, and Kit had made what was now a very rare stop for takeout. They ate while the kittens played with their toes (and their sweaters and their hair) and they watched old
Firefly
episodes on DVD and tried to introduce the kittens to their namesakes.

The kittens were unimpressed, but the men who already loved them had a good time.

When dinner was cleaned up, Kit told Jesse to call Emmy.

Jesse made Kit stay in the room.

It was hard—even harder because although Jesse’s voice was all rainbows and lollipops
,
his face was all mortal wounds and broken bones. Jesse made it through, though, after a thorough description of black-and-gray patches and pink paws, rough tongues, and animals so thoroughly ensorcelled by their humans that they purred on command.

He finished because Emmy was tired, but before he hung up he said, “Yeah, Emmy. He’s the best. Thank you, sweetheart—I’m in good hands. Yeah. I love you too. Night night.”

Amy Lane

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He cried all over Kit then, and there had been no lovemaking that night. Kit didn’t mind, not even a little.

They stayed in bed the next morning, though, after a shower and a quick breakfast. Jesse was not a morning person, and Kit made a mental note to buy a coffeemaker, because Kit thought it might help. (It would also have helped if the kittens hadn’t spent all night purring on their heads and kneading their hair, but that was beside the point!)

Kit got his second, more thorough education on what two naked male bodies could do together. Kit leaned patiently on his hands and knees and allowed Jesse to invade his body, and the feeling had been… odd, at first. Stretchy and full and vulnerable, even.

And then Jesse had started to move, and it had become tingly, and then it had become pleasant, and then Jesse had nailed his prostate, and it became explosive. Jesse came first, moaning and sweating onto his back, and Kit found he was aroused and unfinished and aching.

“Good,” Jesse panted into his shoulder. “You can do it to me now!”

The condom was another first, and Kit frowned as Jesse rolled it on. (Jesse had put his own on as well, and Kit thought it was something he should practice. It looked sort of tricky.)

“I’ll get tested,” Jesse promised. “And I’m always careful, so it should be good. And then we won’t need them. How’s that?”

That sounded great, and Kit said so, but inside he was reminded: he had waited thirty years for a good thing, but Jesse’s friend Emmy proved that some people didn’t even have that long.

Jesse started out on his hands and knees, like Kit had, but Amy Lane

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Kit frowned some more. “Can we do this face-to-face?” he asked, pretty sure the mechanics would work. “I want to see you.”

Jesse turned over then and blushed. “You don’t ask much, do you?” His tone was edgy and impatient, and Kit realized something else about his young lover.

“I have to be naked, you have to be,” he insisted. Jesse’s grin was a little bitter and a little embarrassed, but then Kit took the lubricant and started doing what Jesse had done—squirting it on his fingers (it had been in bed with them, so it was warm) and then thrusting the fingers inside Jesse’s bottom.

Jesse’s ass came off the bed, and his head threw back and he moaned. “Oh, God… Kit… that’s good…but… oh… damn… you have no subtle…
shit
!”

Kit had thrust deep inside, and he’d found it—the walnut under the skin. He’d read about it, and Jesse had brushed against it, and he found he wanted to see what happened when….

Jesse’s hands scrabbled on the blankets, and his feet pressed hard into the mattress. “Kit?” he whined, managing to fasten his eyes on Kit’s face. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed, and he looked… eager and begging and soft.

Kit hadn’t known his cock would
get
this hard.

“Kit, buddy, is there any way you could… uhm… fuck me hard anytime soon?”

Kit grinned at him and moved his cock into position. For a moment, it looked… threatening. Jesse’s entrance, even stretched by Kit’s fingers, was still small and vulnerable, but Jesse whined, and Kit placed the flared head of his cock against that tight ring and thrust slowly in.

Amy Lane

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Jesse’s ass clamped down on him tighter than anything he could imagine, and Jesse’s body was
so
hot. Kit groaned and pulled back until his cockhead was stretching Jesse again, and Jesse groaned and begged, “Please, dammit, Kit,
please
!”
His eyes were half-closed now, and Kit thought it was totally worth it to look at his face. He’d never seen anything as breathtaking as Jesse, abandoned to Kit’s body inside his own.

Kit felt a total sense of the moment as he drove his hips forward
hard
and watched Jesse throw his head back and howl.

That worked so well that he did it again. And again. And again. He started thrusting harder and faster and made sure that every time he did, he at least brushed that little nerve bundle that Jesse liked so much until Jesse started begging for something very different.

“Let me touch you,” he panted, leaning up enough to fondle Kit’s stomach. “Want to touch you!”

Kit’s technique would go all to hell if he did that, but technique wasn’t what Jesse seemed to want. Kit fell forward onto his elbows then and kept moving erratically (he was close, so close, and this new angle was odd, but he was almost there…), and Jesse kissed his neck and stroked his shoulders and whispered wonderful, terrible, obscene things in his ear.

Kit would admit later, while Jesse was lying with his head on Kit’s very sweaty shoulder, that it was the dirty talk that did him in. The words were filthy and erotic. In fact, the things Jesse was saying were…. Oh God… the images were
exactly what Kit was
doing
! And it was that reality that sent Kit heaving into orgasm, shuddering, groaning, lunging for that impossible peak and free-falling off it with a grunt and a howl and whoop of triumph as he went.

They laughed softly into each other’s arms then, and Kit Amy Lane

Christmas With Danny Fit [71]

collapsed on the bed and fell out of Jesse so he could pull Jesse right on top of him.

“Kit?” Jesse panted.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a virgin anymore.”

“Fucking awesome.”

Jesse giggled and kissed the corner of his mouth, and Kit kissed him back. And it really was fucking awesome.

IT WAS hard telling him goodbye that evening. In two days, they had managed to turn themselves into a little family, complete with kittens for babies.

“I can get you tomorrow night,” Kit said as they were kissing at the front door, afraid to go outside. “I have to come home and work out and then go visit Ma, but then I can pick you up.”

Jesse pouted. He did that sometimes—he’d done it that morning when Kit didn’t have oatmeal, and he’d done it at the pet store when Kit had wanted a boy and a girl kitten instead of two boys. It was not the best side of Jesse—and it charmed Kit completely.

“Why can’t you come work out with me? The gym is a few blocks from my apartment. I can bring extra clothes—that’ll work fine!”

Kit blushed and shook his head. “I, uhm, don’t think I want to work out in front of all those people, Jesse.”

Jesse sighed and blew out a breath, but he didn’t press the Amy Lane

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point. “Well, how about you follow me home from work, and I can come here and work out with you?”

Oh Jesus. Jesse in the same room with Danny Fit? That would almost be like a threesome. It sounded dangerous—and vaguely icky. Fortunately, that didn’t solve the fact that Kit still needed to visit his mother, and Kit said so.

Another sigh, and Kit felt like shit, even though it was the truth. Jesse shook his head. “I swear, it’s like you don’t want me to meet the guy, you know?”

Kit shrugged and said, “Well, what Danny and I had together is very private,” with enough dignity to sound like he was kidding.

But Jesse wasn’t stupid. His eyes got big, and he put his hand over his mouth like a little schoolgirl. “Ohmigod! He’s your jerk-off buddy!”

Kit wondered if he could will himself to die of a heart attack on the spot. He knew his blood was certainly thundering in his ears enough.

“I… uhm….”

“He is!”

“Well. Uhm….”

Jesse shook his head and chortled some more. “Never mind, baby. You keep, uhm, working out. Anyone who waited for thirty years for the right person to come along gets to have imaginary sex with as many people as he wants!”

Kit could do nothing but stand there with Jesse in his arms and blush. Jesse was Jesse, though—he could laugh like the kid he was, but he picked up on Kit’s discomfort after a moment.

“It’s okay, Kit—I swear. Every boy has an imaginary stroke Amy Lane

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buddy—no worries.”

A part of Kit got indignant—he objected to hearing Danny referred to as merely a stroke buddy—but most of him got it. Jesse was being supportive. Jesse was being kind.

Kit kissed him, because, dammit, that’s what you did when the person who had just made love to you for two days straight tried to tell you that your weirdness was not terminal. Jesse kissed him back and then hurried out to his car.

The next day was surprisingly… normal. Kit and Jesse were good at their jobs, and they’d worked well as a team for a couple of months. Jesse didn’t shut Kit’s door during lunch and go down on him for a quickie, but he sat and talked to him instead. The companionship, Kit had realized long ago, was very much as important as the sex.

Kit picked him up after visiting his mother that night and got a chance to see Jesse’s apartment. He was surprised to find that he did not envy it—Jesse was right. It was a low-rent apartment occupied by four men (two of them straight) who (in Jesse’s words) went home to change, fuck, or drink beer. The posters were tacked on the walls, and the beige carpet was appalling. Jesse’s room was roughly the size of Kit’s hallway, and while Jesse had literally covered the walls with sci-fi posters—many of them cadged from local movie theaters—it didn’t seem to have Jesse’s warmth. It certainly didn’t feel warm enough to keep Kit’s Jesse safe.

Kit wondered at the lag time before sleeping with someone and living with them. He wanted Jesse in his home. He wanted him in his bed every night.
What do you know? You were a virgin
seventy-two hours ago
!

I know that I love him. I know I don’t want anyone else—not
even Danny Fit.

Amy Lane

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Kit took Jesse home that night and proved it.

They developed a pattern, a system, and it worked. Jesse was at Kit’s house more nights than not, and that was good with both of them. Kit always managed to get his Danny Fit workout in—

sometimes when Jesse was at the gym, and sometimes when he was in the living room, reading or playing with the kittens. (Mal, it turned out, was a terrible troublemaker. Zoe was stoic and responsible and occasionally ate Mal’s head to keep him in line.) Kit realized that he hadn’t been turned on by Danny Fit since Jesse first kissed him. That kiss had been his real-life switch—