4

Of course, when I woke up, Joel was gone. And of course, he avoided me at work—even more than usual—for the whole of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

I knew something like that was bound to happen. He’d let his guard down, and he needed time to regroup. I could live with that. But by Thursday, I was pissed. And yeah, I missed him. I was adult enough to admit it. Had he seemed casual and uninterested, I would have tried to let it go. But Joel was a wreck at work. Those few times he didn’t manage to escape me, like the Monday meeting or Wednesday lunch, he failed to keep his usual composure. He stumbled through the routines, absentminded, and his every move betrayed his exhaustion. Joel Sandstrom, the business shark with the heart of stone, was suddenly fragile.

It wasn’t my favorite way of dealing with problems, but it became obvious we needed to talk this through.

***

“I know you disapprove of private issues being discussed at work. But we’ve been way too private at work already,” I said as I entered his office on Thursday evening. The door was open, and Joel stood by his desk packing his laptop into a bag.

He looked at me, placed the bag on the floor next to his chair and leaned against the table.

“What is it now?” he snapped. His annoyance was so fake I felt a jab of sorrow for him. He struggled every day, drained and deeply unhappy, yet he fought on. Why? What was he trying to prove? While he kept his face expressionless, his hands held the desk in a white-knuckled grip.

“I only need a few minutes,” I said and closed the door behind me. Everyone had already left, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Tina was known for forgetting various items and coming back for them after work. And Matt sometimes came by in the evenings to catch up on delayed projects. Joel’s office was right by the main entrance to the converted warehouse. With an open door, everyone could see us.

“Talk, then,” Joel prompted.

I wanted to be clear. For once, I wanted to be completely honest.

“You were right. We shouldn’t continue doing this.”

Joel’s face fell, but he covered it immediately. Lifting his chin, he pushed off the desk and came closer. He palmed my dick and was about to kneel. And because it was Joel, I was hard in an instant. Jesus.

I caught his wrist and tugged him up. “No, stop it.”

Joel winced. He started turning away, but the desolation and humiliation in his face broke me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. I refused to let go of his arm and caught his jaw with my other hand. I forced him to look at me as I continued.

“You are fucking infuriating most of the time, but I want you, Joel. I’m tired of this sick…whatever it is. I don’t need another fuck-buddy, and I don’t appreciate mind games. I want to take my time. I want you to stay in my bed after we fuck, I want to have breakfast together and talk like a human being to another human being for once.”

He looked bewildered. His eyes wide, mouth slack… I cupped his jaw, and the faint stubble made my palm tingle.

“The question is, since we both know we want to, how are we going to do this?”

I’d shocked him. He didn’t expect me to be open about my wishes. He gaped, blinked, then lifted his hand to wipe at his face, and dropped it again.

“You want what? An actual relationship?” He didn’t scoff when he said it. Which was good because I would have snapped if he had. But the word relationship still sounded odd coming from his mouth, as if calling what we had or could have a relationship was an alien concept. So surreal, it didn’t even occur to him. The surprised, meager hope in his eyes broke my heart all over again.

“Yes, Joel. I want to be with you. Is it impossible?”

He shook his head, and a sad smile tugged at his lips.

“I thought it was…impossible,” he said and paused. He placed his palm in the center of my chest and stroked gently, maybe afraid I’d step away. When he touched my T-shirt, it occurred to me for the thousandth time how different we were. Him in his power suit, golden hair combed into submission, his chiseled face clean-shaven, a light tan, those clear blue eyes piercing—he looked like a GQ ad in June—and I looked…like a bum.

He blinked, his hand still stroking my chest. His expression was open for once, and there was so much longing. And hurt.

“Tyler, I…” He swallowed. “I want so much.”

“What?” I asked on a whisper.

“You’ll lose patience.” He bit his lip. I soothed it with my thumb. I wanted to kiss him again.

“Depends on how long I’d have to wait. And how I’d spend the time waiting.”

Joel kissed my thumb. “I need to keep it a secret for five more months.” Guilt made his mouth curve down.

What?

“That’s very precise,” I said slowly, my thoughts swirling. What was keeping Joel from being who he was?

He struggled for words, his mouth opening and closing again, his gaze pinned somewhere on the wall behind me. There was pain and helplessness. Whatever was plaguing Joel, it wasn’t something he felt he could change. And he seemed to hate himself for it anyway. I caressed his neck and stepped closer, my other arm circling his waist.

“If you didn’t have to hide, what would you want?”

“I’d want you for myself.” His answer was immediate, his eyes meeting mine in what looked like defiance.

I smiled. “You can have me.”

He paused, shocked. “You’re serious.”

My hand on the back of his neck, I pulled him to me and kissed him. Finally. He caught my wrist, straining closer, and a faint moan resonated into my mouth when our tongues touched. In a flash of clarity, I realized how much he wanted me. He’d said so, but I hadn’t understood, not really. Joel hurt with his need for me. The knowledge was heady and terrifying. His fingers clutched my T-shirt, and his other hand squeezed my wrist painfully tight. He exhaled harshly when I broke the kiss, and his bottom lip trembled. I wanted to soothe him, reassure him so he’d stop hurting.

“I can keep a secret for five months,” I said. To my own surprise, I realized I meant it. One hundred percent.

“You’d date a closet case? You?” He laughed. It sounded self-deprecating and broken. His gaze dropped to my purple sneakers, scanned up my black skinny jeans, and over my wildly inappropriate Deadpool riding a unicorn T-shirt. Yeah, I had never been subtle.

“I’d like to know why we need to hide for what—five months? But otherwise…” I shrugged. I was already worried by how much I was willing to do for him.

He tugged free of my embrace and hid his face in his hands rubbing hard. His perfectly combed and gelled hair became tousled above his forehead and a few golden strands fell down. “Fuck,” he mumbled into his palms. I waited. Joel straightened and took a deep breath, looking around his office. His tired eyes blinked slowly, as if he was confused by his surroundings.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” he asked, voice low.

“Sure.”

***

We took his car—I left my bike at work. I had no idea where he lived. He drove us east, closer to the sea, away from the bustling city and into the calmer suburbs. We were silent. Joel seemed to fully focus on his driving, even though he had to know the route by heart. I let him be. He probably needed to think.

His house was barely visible from the street. Low and hidden behind a group of squat fat pine trees, with a long driveway, Joel’s home looked like the perfect place for a lonesome, private man. He parked and led me around the one-story building to a small yard. There was no fence. The woods started where the lawn ended, no neighbors in the visible distance.

“Something to drink? Beer? Wine?” he asked.

“Beer’s good,” I said.

“IPA okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Joel gestured to the group of dark wooden armchairs under a patio roof circled by wild vines. He disappeared into the house through a pair of glass sliding doors.

I sat and leaned back. It was a gorgeous place. The sky was dark blue at dusk as the last traces of orange and violet dissolved behind the trees. The yard was small, but since there was no boundary between the property and the surrounding nature, it gave the impression of total freedom with complete privacy. It was clear why someone like Joel needed a place like this.

He came back with two bottles of strong IPA. He’d taken off his suit jacket and opened the top two buttons of his light blue shirt. He looked gorgeous in the warm yellow light of the patio lamps. He sat down next to me and took a deep swig.

“Thanks,” I said and drank from mine.

Joel gulped more beer and exhaled. “Last time you worked for me, a year ago, remember?”

I nodded.

“I was attracted to you. That’s why I didn’t want to hire you again. You were distracting. And so obviously out.”

“Obviously out?” I chuckled at his description of my clothing style, mannerisms, and small-talk skills. Over the years, it became a safe space and a strategy—better to be obvious from the beginning and spare myself awkward surprises. And I had nothing to lose. Joel seemed to think he had a lot to lose.

“It’s like you were waving it in front of my nose—everything I couldn’t have, everything I wanted to be…” He drank some more. “It drove me crazy.”

“But you still called me and hired me again. Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re good. Great even. The company needed you. I needed you,” he said. Then he looked at me, searching my gaze. “And because a part of me wanted to see you again. Even as the other part kept screaming no.”

Guilt nagged at me, but I barely understood why. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just being me. Maybe because I used to be so mad at him, used to provoke him, I now felt like he deserved my apology?

“Why are you hiding, Joel? Most people wouldn’t care. Not in this business.”

“The board would.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I am paying off a debt,” he continued. “I borrowed a significant amount from my father to make Sandstrom Studios what it is. In five months, my debt will be paid. The company will be mine.”

Ah. The disapproving father. “And you’re not out to him.”

Joel shook his head.

“Mine kicked me out,” I said, “but Mom went with me. We both left on the same day. I was seventeen.”

“You’re lucky.”

I shrugged in response. Mom was great, but we had our differences as I grew up. She was protective, and I rebelled like the stupid little kid I was. Things were much better now. I guess I was lucky. She loved me. “What about your mother?” I asked.

“Dead.” Only one word, but there was a world of anguish when Joel said it.

“The thing is, Dad is…” Joel hesitated, gulped more beer and looked away. I couldn’t see his face.

“Joel?” I prompted.

“It’s not about the money,” he said.

“You just told me—”

“I know.” He looked back at me and the expression in his eyes made me genuinely worried for the first time that evening. “He has lymphoma. He probably won’t live long enough for me to pay him back.”

Shit.

“How long?”

“A few months. I don’t know. Depending on how he responds to the last procedure, he could make it for half a year at best.” Joel spoke as if he were explaining a business deal. He was all calm, practicality, and assurance. I saw through him. I reached out and took his free hand while he focused on his beer. He squeezed back painfully hard and didn’t let go. His palm was clammy and cold. He swallowed the last of his beer and put it on the table. His chin trembled.

“And you don’t want him to know,” I said.

Joel shook his head.

“Not because of the money.” It seemed obvious.

“No,” he confirmed.

Joel had mad skills, and he’d already made it in the business. His reputation was flawless, and not in any way affected by his sexuality. So what? Another gay man in media and advertising? Nobody would blink an eye. He could start a new company and take all his clients and most of the employees with him. He could get a job at one of the major agencies in the city. Hell, he could become a head of marketing anywhere he chose. His choice to stay in the closet had nothing to do with his job and everything to do with a boy not wanting to disappoint his father just before the man died.

Damn. No wonder Joel had been a mess lately.

“I think we can make it for five months,” I said.

His eyes met mine, his eyebrows rose, and he whispered, “Can we?”

I stood up and tugged at his hand.

“It’s late. Show me your bed. This time, I want to wake up next to you.”

His smile was faint but genuine. We left the beer bottles outside on the table, and he led me into the house and to his bedroom with the adjoining bathroom.

I helped him out of his button down, and he leaned into every touch like a lost dog feeling safe after months in the wild.

We showered together; we caressed and kissed until he turned the water off and sank to his knees for me. He took me into his mouth, the act as simple and natural as the brushing of teeth we did a minute earlier.

“Joel,” I sighed. I fell back, leaning against the shower wall, and my fingers touched his face, tracing his eyebrows, his nose and cheekbones. I mapped his whole face with my fingertips as his mouth made love to my cock. I hadn’t admitted to myself how much I feared losing him. But he was ravenous for me—I hadn’t lost him yet.

“Take what you need, baby,” I told him, and he grabbed my hips on a groan. My palm cupped the back of his head when he deep-throated me. I came in a minute, and Joel swallowed my come, humming.

I grabbed him under his arms, and he stood. His eyes were wild with need, the animal just underneath the surface. He was silently begging me to do something, and I was beginning to understand. He needed to surrender.

“Turn around,” I ordered, and he obeyed immediately.

I caressed his ass, encouraging him to spread his legs. Then I forced my index finger into him, dry, just like that. He yelped but pushed his ass out for more.

I took one of his hands and placed it on his cock, and he kept the other braced on the shower wall. Standing behind him, I wrapped my arm around him and clasped his throat—not squeezing, just letting him feel my hand there as I fingered his ass with the other.

Joel jerked himself, rocking on my finger, and I felt every moan vibrate into my palm where it rested on his throat. The frustration of the past few days left him, his head fell back, and once again, I saw the blissful expression I adored so much. Joel let go and fell apart. He said my name when he came, his ass pulsing around my finger.

We collapsed into Joel’s large bed together, and he clung to me. I reveled in his smell, surrounded by it in his bed, his warm, pliant body wrapped around me.

I kissed him lightly, comforting brushes of my lips on his cheek and jaw, and I felt his body relax in my arms.

“Sleep, baby,” I whispered.

“Ty,” he breathed.

***

I woke up and was alone once again. I fumbled for my phone. It was just after seven. Friday? Damn. Joel needed to go to work. Me too, but later. A banging noise from somewhere in the house made me get up. I peed and brushed my teeth quickly, deciding once again that shaving wasn’t necessary. I washed my face instead, rinsing the small remains of toothpaste from the short strands around the corners of my mouth. I’d lost the rubber band I used to tie my hair with. Now the mop of unruly waves hung loose past my ears, tangled and messy. I sighed. A bum. Well, Joel didn’t seem to mind.

I found Joel in the kitchen, in beige pants and an open white button down. The morning was sunless, humid, and grey. But Joel shone. He was gorgeous.

“I said I wanted to wake up next to you,” I grumbled as I stepped closer and hugged him from behind. My half-hard cock nestled against the cushion of his ass, and I hummed.

He was making us coffee, bless him. He pressed the button on the machine—the sound it made was explosive. I shuddered and squeezed Joel tighter.

“Hi,” he said and turned in my arms.

I realized I could kiss him. His fingers went into my short beard, still wet, and his tongue caressed mine. My hands sneaked under his open shirt and dug into his back muscles. I pressed my hips to his, pushing him against the counter.

“Fuck. Work,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Yeah. Work.”

Sighing deep, I stepped back.

“Damn it,” Joel muttered adjusting his groin briefly. He handed me the coffee. It smelled divine—smoky and robust.

“Thank you. You’re free tonight?” I asked. We were past pretending.

“Yeah. Can we sleep here again?”

“And tomorrow morning you’re staying in bed until I wake up.”

Joel chuckled.

“Deal.”

We took his car back to the city. I knew I couldn’t turn up at work in yesterday’s clothes and in the same car with Joel, but I really didn’t want him to tell me I couldn’t.

“Let me out over there,” I said when we stopped at a red light ten-minutes’ walk from the office. “I’ll buy a sandwich and take a walk.”

“Tyler,” he began.

“It’s fine, Joel. Just let me out.”

He looked me in the eyes, and his were angry. I knew it wasn’t directed at me.

I squeezed his hand as it rested on the steering wheel. The lights changed, and Joel put the car in gear. Behind the crossing, he swung into the parking area in front of a tall apartment building.

“I—” Joel said, but I interrupted him once more.

“Tonight, okay?” I asked.

He nodded.

I exited the car quickly and went down the street toward a bakery I knew opened early.

Joel sped past me. I hoped nobody saw us.