Chapter Five

 

 

WHAT ARE you up to this morning?

Jackson smiled at his phone. Texting with Leo was a new thing they were trying out. He was pretty sure Leo had picked up on how uncomfortable Jackson was with everything going on, and used this method of communication to make things easier on them both.

He hesitated for a moment, then tapped out a reply.

Working. I don’t go out much.

He set his phone down on a bench and went to check his wine. Making wine was a fairly new hobby, and he’d started with the sparkling stuff after drinking some at a friend’s wedding over the summer. The champagne at the party had been ridiculously expensive and not that nice, and while drunk, Jackson decided he could definitely do better himself.

He’d discovered fairly quickly that he could make almost any wine fizzy. The next lesson was that just because he could, it definitely did not mean that he should.

The phone buzzed again, and he headed back to check it.

Could I come see your setup some time?

Sure.

After a moment he sent another quick message.

Come over now if you like. I’m about an hour outside the city, though.

The reply was instantaneous.

Yeah? I could do that. Text me your address. I don’t mind driving out.

It was around lunchtime, just about when Jackson was getting ready to quit for the day anyway. Owning a business meant working Sundays had become part of his life. It had been ages since he’d taken a vacation. But working Sunday meant he could keep track of all his brewing, so he could spend Monday in the office, updating his spreadsheets and records and answering emails from his suppliers.

The sparkling wine experiment would come to a head nearer to Christmas, when he’d set up to sell bespoke bottles with handwritten labels as unique gifts. He’d done well with that concept last year, using beer instead of wine, and he thought there was a market for this type of unique product.

He left the lights on in the barn-conversion brewery and headed back to the house so he’d hear when Leo arrived. There was plenty of cleaning to do, since that was Jackson’s worst chore and he often “forgot” to do it. That meant when people were coming over, he had to rush to clean up. Maybe one day he’d learn to be better.

A light knock at the front door almost startled him, and he hurried to answer it.

Leo looked nervous but smiled at Jackson anyway.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Jackson said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

“Thanks. This place is amazing.”

Jackson grinned. “It’s not bad. Leave your shoes on. I thought I could show you around the brewery, then make some lunch.”

“You’re cooking?”

“Uh….” Jackson gave him a sheepish look and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Reheating. Soup. It’s tomato and red pepper. And grilled cheese?”

“That sounds great.”

“Okay.” He let out a whooshing sigh, the nerves in his stomach quietly settling. “Good. Come on out.”

He led Leo through the house to the kitchen, which attached to the old barn that was now the brewery. One of the first jobs he’d done when setting up the brewery was to make the transition from the house to the barn building all undercover. This was Washington, after all; he needed protecting from the elements.

“How long have you lived here?” Leo asked.

“About five years. My dad helped me buy the place when I got the loan to start the business. It has space, which is the most important thing.”

It was actually almost in the middle of nowhere, right on the outskirts of a small town. The drive on winding roads into Nine Mile Falls took fifteen minutes. Jackson was okay with that.

“Welcome to where the magic happens,” Jackson said, grinning as he threw the big door to the brewery open.

The smell of earthy hops and fermenting beer was almost part of the framework of this building. It had started life as a brick-built stable, expanded constantly by the family who had lived here. It hadn’t taken much converting to make the site a brewery, just a few walls put up to segment the space and replacing the roof. Valerie always joked that she could still smell the horses, but Jackson was pretty sure the beer overpowered any lingering scent of beast.

“Wow.” Leo stepped farther into the building and turned in a slow circle. “This place is incredible. I have no idea what I’m looking at, though.”

“Let me show you.”

When it came to beer, Jackson was a traditionalist, so when it came to spending his startup loan he’d invested in big copper urns. Not only did they look beautiful, which was definitely a bonus when he was showing potential investors around, they produced better quality beer. The urns were set up against the aging red brick of the old stables, farthest away from the house. Everything else filled the space between: the huge round mash tun, where the grain steeped into hot liquid that would eventually become beer, then the urns that took care of each stage of the process, from fermentation to conditioning. Postproduction was farther back—the bottling section, the printing section where he made his own labels and stuck them on by hand, the storeroom.

“I just started experimenting with wine too,” Jackson said, gesturing to the closed-off dark room where his wine was protected from sunlight. “None of that is ready yet, though.”

“Do you have anything I could try?”

“Sure.” He led Leo round to where his bottling and labeling section was set up. “Any preference?”

“I don’t drink much beer,” Leo confessed.

“I’ve got a Pilsner, APAs and IPAs, a really nice Amber Ale, a Porter that I’m still experimenting with—it’s good, it’s just not perfect… or Stout?”

“You pick.”

Jackson grabbed two bottles of his personal favorite—an APA that had become one of his most popular brews. “We can have these with lunch.”

“Okay.”

Leo wasn’t looking at him, not really. His eyes flicked from one thing to another, bright and searching as he looked at the maze of equipment. He didn’t ask many questions, just stood and absorbed it all.

“You work out here a lot?”

“Mmm.”

“It’s very… isolated.”

“I like it,” Jackson said with a shrug. “I know what I’m doing, and I don’t really need anyone else to run the business.”

Leo turned that bright focus onto Jackson, and for only the second time in his life, he felt a powerful thrum of something deep in his chest. Leo smiled, like he felt it too.

Jackson couldn’t say for sure who moved first; all he knew was a moment later Leo had a hand on his jaw and their lips were pressed together. He fumbled blindly for the counter and dumped the two bottles of beer on it, barely caring if they made it safely. When nothing crashed behind him, he planted his hands on Leo’s hips and hauled him in closer.

Leo was firm, unyielding, and didn’t hold anything back as he grabbed Jackson’s shoulders and licked into his mouth and demanded. That was new. Jackson didn’t… he didn’t dislike it.

When they moved closer together—was closer even possible?—Jackson felt something deep inside himself settle, contented.

Soul mate.

Leo pulled away first. “You’re thinking very loudly.”

Jackson grimaced. “Sorry.”

Leo touched his knuckles to Jackson’s cheek. “I’m more than okay with going at your pace. Don’t let me rush you.”

“You’re not rushing me,” Jackson said, because he felt like that was the right thing to say. He tightened his grip on Leo’s hips, then let go. If he was honest with himself, this was actually a little fast for him.

The need to mark his mate was overwhelming, and Jackson gave in to the instinct, running his hand over Leo’s hair. He wasn’t sure if Leo knew he was being scent-marked, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You said something about lunch?”

Ah, neutral territory. “You’re hungry?”

“I could eat,” Leo said with a shrug and a smile.

“Okay. We can do lunch.”

It felt surprisingly good to lead Leo back into the house, where it was warmer and more comfortable than the barn. Leo was so laid-back it made Jackson nervous, which definitely didn’t make sense. Right now not much made sense. He quietly pushed his emotions aside to be dealt with later.

“How did you end up living all the way out here?” Leo asked as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

Jackson laughed as he went to the fridge to get the pot of soup on to reheat, then started fixing the sandwiches. “I was more interested in the barn and the stables, to be honest. I don’t use the second floor of the house.”

Leo looked up. “What, not at all?”

“Nope. It’s all closed up.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Valerie thinks so. My sister. She says it’s creepy.” Jackson slid the first sandwich onto the griddle and started on the second. “The couple who owned this place and built half of it couldn’t use the stairs when they got older, so the first floor was entirely converted so they could live down here. The bathroom and everything is all down here. When they moved to a retirement home, their kids just closed the place up, and they both passed away ten years ago. Maybe more. The kids couldn’t bear to sell the house for a while after. When I bought it, there was quite a lot of modernizing to do.”

He flipped the sandwiches neatly, stirred the soup, then turned back to Leo.

“My family chipped in, helping out with the decorating and renovating. I always thought it would make a good family home, if I ever decided to settle down and have one.”

That suddenly felt like a weird thing to say, partly because there was definitely a societal expectation for him to settle down and reproduce with his soul mate, and partly because that soul mate was a man. Leo wasn’t exactly going to gestate their kids.

“Do you like that sort of thing? Renovating, I mean.”

Jackson turned back to the stove and started ladling the soup into the two bowls. “I like making things. My dad’s the same. Renovating sort of fulfills that desire, to a degree. I prefer making things from scratch.”

He flipped the two sandwiches onto the chopping board and neatly cut them in triangles. He could just about balance it all to carry it over to the table.

“Ta-dah,” he sang, setting it down.

“Looks good. As is this.” Leo saluted with his bottle of beer.

Jackson grinned. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence for a while. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. However hard it was to admit it to himself, Jackson was incredibly comfortable with Leo. That didn’t happen very often. He wasn’t a people person.

Jackson mopped up the last of the soup with the crusts of his sandwich. It really was good soup. He made a mental note to thank his mom. She didn’t need to know who he shared it with, though. Not just yet.

“I know this has been hard for you,” Leo said, apropos of nothing. “I’m sorry. If I can help… make things easier? Just let me know.”

“If I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.”

Leo left not long after. He had offered to help Jackson clean up, which Jackson declined, and Leo turned down Jackson’s offer of more beer to take home with him. Apparently he and his roommate drank more wine than beer.

Jackson locked up the house and headed to bed earlier than he normally would. He was a night owl by habit, and running his own business, not answering to anyone else, hadn’t broken him of the desire to sleep in.

Most nights he stayed up until 2:00 a.m., unless he knew he had to be awake in the morning for something specific. It was barely midnight. A good time to do some research.

Kissing Leo had unlocked his curiosity in a way Jackson hadn’t expected. He’d kissed plenty of people in his life, had sex with plenty more. He liked to think he was a good kisser. Kissing his soul mate was the same, in a way, as most of the other times he’d ever kissed someone.

Except it totally wasn’t. Leo was his soul mate. That kiss had meant something.

They weren’t teenagers anymore, so that kind of kissing usually led somewhere. Jackson didn’t expect sex, not from anyone, not unless it was something they wanted too. He was quite happy to admit he knew nothing about gay sex. Well, he knew about the mechanics. But not how to make it good.

He opened his laptop and felt a knot of shame twist in his stomach. He didn’t have any hang-ups about porn, but this wasn’t about getting off. He had sites bookmarked for when he wanted that.

As long as terms like “cocksucker” were still used as insults, Jackson thought he’d probably never feel entirely comfortable thinking about those acts. There was definitely a macho element to parts of werewolf culture that wasn’t confined to males. Being competitive, aggressive, physically stronger would always be seen as an ideal. Being smart, quick, intelligent were just as important.

Weakness, in whatever form, was considered failure. Even though the soul mate bond would be deemed more powerful and revered than anything else, the fact that his mate was a human man would raise eyebrows. People would wonder, even silently, who was the dominant partner.

While he wasn’t going to change society overnight, Jackson thought he could probably think about sex. With Leo.

Who was a man.

He needed help.

Jackson opened an incognito window (even though no one else ever used his laptop and probably never would) and hesitantly typed “How do I have gay sex” into the search bar.

He was expecting a flood of porn; instead he got a selection of fairly interesting-looking articles. And a Wikipedia entry. Jackson snorted to himself, deciding that this was possibly the least offensive thing he could read.

“Wow,” he muttered under his breath. “Wow.”

He skimmed through the first few paragraphs, giggling at the phrase tea bagging, blanching at the word rimming, and forcing himself to keep going when he felt slightly overwhelmed by the whole thing.

He switched to another article. Then wished he was back at Wikipedia.

For the next hour, he browsed a variety of sites with different information on what to expect when having sex with another man. Some of it didn’t seem to be so different from what he usually did when fucking a girl—go slow, check in, lots of foreplay, lots of kissing. All those things were totally fine by him.

The thought of giving a blowjob was too much, so he shoved it out of his mind and instead went to the proper porn.

Well, Pornhub.

Everything about gay sex seemed so intense. Jackson flicked through the first few pages, watching a few clips, not really sure he knew what he was doing. It was like some poor Pornhub employee was watching over his shoulder, clucking disapprovingly at his choices. Or his inability to make a choice. He just didn’t know where to start.

Jackson snapped the laptop closed and viciously pushed it away. He shoved his shorts the rest of the way off and scooted down on the bed. Watching other guys have sex was strangely uncomfortable. It was too voyeuristic, even though he wasn’t exactly a stranger to porn.

The reality was much better than fiction too.

He closed his eyes and grabbed his cock, giving it a firm squeeze. He began to get hard, and when he closed his eyes, his mind kindly supplied him with the memory of Leo’s knowing smirk.

Warm blue eyes.

The light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose, almost too faint to see when he was more than a foot away.

Soft smiling lips that were so careful when they brushed over his own. Leo’s hands pressed to Jackson’s chest, the way he rose up onto his toes to deepen the kiss.

Jackson replayed it all, over and over, then let his imagination take it further.

With his eyes closed, it was easy to picture taking hold of Leo’s hand and tugging him into the house, to his bedroom, and closing the door behind them. Shutting the world out so there was nothing left in existence but Jackson and his soul mate and the things they could do together.

He thought about gently pushing Leo back onto the bed, then covering Leo’s slim body with his own to make the next round of kissing even better. Leo’s hands would be in Jackson’s hair, gripping his neck, squeezing his shoulders; maybe he’d moan a little when Jackson kissed down his neck.

Oh God.

What if he was loud? Groaning and gasping and begging for more while Jackson undressed them both, licking at Leo’s pale skin, which was surely dotted with more of those sweet, gingery freckles.

Jackson pumped his cock harder, rubbing his thumb over the sticky precome that was gathered at the head. His balls were throbbing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d jerked off just to the pictures in his mind.

He wasn’t quite sure how to get around the whole “my soul mate’s penis” thing just yet, so he skipped ahead to just being inside him. By then Leo would be all shivery, clinging to Jackson’s back as he gently pushed in over and over, tight wet heat around his cock, Leo’s mouth on his neck, the quiet, broken sobs as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Jackson felt like something sparked off and lit him up from inside as he came, jerking his hips, back arching off the bed.

He wasn’t ready to give up the fantasy, even as he rode the aftershocks of what was an impressive orgasm.

His mind drifted to the easy comedown, kissing lazily, sucking at Leo’s tongue until they broke away, laughing. He thought about pressing his face to the curve of Leo’s neck and just breathing him in, reveling in the closeness of the postsex afterglow. Leo skimming his fingers up and down Jackson’s back, then scratching through his hair.

He thought about rolling Leo over and spooning up behind him, holding him tight as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Those were not common fantasies for him.

Jackson shook himself out of it and forcefully rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom to clean up, still naked.

As he brushed his teeth, he looked at himself in the huge mirror. Nothing much had changed in the few weeks since he’d first met Leo. He was the same guy, looked the same, acted mostly the same.

He spat, rinsed, and went back to bed, pulling on clean shorts before curling up beneath the covers. It was still too early for him to go to bed, not if he was going to keep to the sleep patterns he was used to. The orgasm had left him soporific, though, and all he wanted was to finish the fantasy and hold on to that image of Leo sleeping in his arms.

He bottled up all his fears, all the looming negativity and bigotry, and put those emotions somewhere he didn’t have to deal with them. For now, he wanted to fantasize about his soul mate and sleep.