Chapter Nine

Driving into Mountain Park, Brandon turned onto one of the few roads and up through the woods to his house. He felt overfull after eating waffles, but not too badly. He looked over at his passenger, who was studying the scenery as it went by.

“Beautiful place,” Jake mumbled. “You said you grew up here? How were you in Parkview’s district?”

“My mother worked at Central Office, so they paid for me to transfer districts,” Brandon answered. “More challenge and opportunity at Parkview. More students, too. She was worried I wouldn’t adjust well to college if I wasn’t used to other kids. I was home schooled until then.”

“Oh,” was all Jake could think to respond. He couldn’t imagine how horrible being home schooled would be. Never getting out, no friends, no sports, nothing but home and work all the time. He repressed a shiver and looked back out the window.

Catching the pinched look on Jake’s face, Brandon grinned. “It wasn’t that bad, Jake. I had friends. And I went to the middle school here about an hour a day for P.E. and music.”

“Ugh,” Jake offered that bit of information. “I’m sorry, but that’s just cruel,” he stated with a shake of his head.

“Cruel? Explain, please?” Brandon asked as he turned onto a smaller lane that ran along the lake.

“It’s cruel,” Jake shrugged. “Kids don’t understand that kind of thing, and we both know kids can be mean. And I’m sorry, but thinking you know enough to teach a kid everything he could learn from a variety of teachers and experiences and peers is just arrogant.”

“Oh, you mean the home schooling. I thought you meant the P.E.,” Brandon said. “I can’t argue, really. While going to Parkview really threw me at first, I think it made me focus on what was important. It was easy to be lackadaisical at home when it was just me. I could study when I wanted, take off to explore in the woods, fiddle around. There wasn’t much structure.”

Jake nodded and sniffed a little. The topic was one of his major tender spots, and he couldn’t help but get a little ruffled by it. Hell, if Brandon’s mother had sent him to real school when he was younger, his life could have been completely different. He could have played sports—he certainly had the physique for it—or joined clubs. He could have had friends who were loyal instead of just wanting help with their homework, and he could have been part of something instead of being on the outskirts. Jake shook his head angrily and pressed his lips together, trying not to get worked up.

Brandon frowned. Jake seemed to be really upset. “Jake?” he asked as he pulled into the driveway beside the white bungalow surrounded by wildflowers and trees. “What’s wrong?”

Jake shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly. “I get pissy about that kind of thing. Nice house.”

Turning off the car, Brandon murmured a thanks. But the rest of what Jake said bothered him. “What do you mean, pissy? About the home schooling?” He didn’t get why Jake would care about that.

“Yeah,” Jake answered, leaving it at that. He had belatedly realized that bitching about it would imply bad things about Brandon’s dead parents, and he really didn’t want to go there. “Do I get a tour?” he asked with a smile toward Brandon.

It was obvious Jake didn’t want to elaborate, so Brandon let it go. “Sure,” he said, smiling a little as he climbed out of the car. “Inside or outside first?”

“Inside,” Jake answered mischievously as he practically crawled out of the car. “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked innocently, looking up at the house.

Brandon rolled his eyes. “One-track mind,” he muttered as he jingled the keys, walking around the house to the back door. The front walk was overgrown with a colorful mesh of early spring flowers, blocking the walkway.

“Well, yeah,” Jake responded with a huff as he followed obediently. “My brain is tuned continuously to ESPN, the Food Network, or porn. Sometimes two. Sometimes all three at the same time,” he told Brandon studiously.

Brandon stopped in his track and looked over his shoulder, eyes dancing. “The Food Network?” he asked, voice a bit strained.

“Yeah,” Jake answered defensively, pursing his lips and frowning. “ Food , man.”

Biting his bottom lip, Brandon shook his head and turned around to walk to the back door. He unlocked it and pushed it open. “ Entre vous ,” he said with a sweep of his hand. Jake grinned and let his hand glide across Brandon’s stomach as he passed him into the house. Brandon sucked in a breath at his body’s response, flooding him with heat. Jake’s every touch turned him on like crazy, and he really needed to get a handle on it before they went back to school and baseball practice. Not that they touched much then, but the temptation would be there. Brandon had discovered that Jake was a very tactile person. And Brandon had discovered he really, really liked it.

Jake inhaled deeply when he stepped into the house, smiling as he glanced back at Brandon. “Smells like you.”

Brandon laughed. “If you say so,” he said. “So, here, obviously, we’re in the kitchen. Over there,” he pointed to the left doorway, “is the laundry room and pantry.” He walked around the small kitchen island to stand in the juncture of three rooms. “That’s the TV room,” he said, waving at the room ahead of him, “And this way two bedrooms and a bathroom.” He shrugged. “Not much, I guess. But I don’t need this much room, even.” He looked around wistfully, obviously seeing memories everywhere.

“Isn’t it hard, living here?” Jake asked after a moment of watching Brandon.

Eyes clearing, Brandon looked over at Jake as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Sometimes,” he said quietly. “I’ll look at something and just... “He looked hurt for a moment, but then the emotion was hidden away. “It’s all good memories. I just miss them.” Jake was silent, watching him expectantly. Brandon’s eyes moved through the room, but he didn’t really see it. Brandon was seeing the past. “Yeah, it’s hard,” he murmured. “But it’s all I have left.” His lips pressed together hard. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake offered quietly. “You’re stronger than I would be.”

Closing his arms around himself, Brandon gazed over at Jake. “You never know,” he smiled a little, shrugging off some of the seriousness. He felt a little silly now, babbling about his parents like that. “I think you’re awfully tough. You could handle it. But I hope you won’t have to, not for a long, long time.”

“Tough?” Jake echoed with a small smile, intending to veer away from an obviously painful topic.

“Tough,” Brandon repeated with a nod. “And don’t try to deny it. I’ve got some idea of the hell you go through with your shoulder, knee, and ankle. And you still go out and coach year-round.”

“You’re talkin’ ‘bout two different things,” Jake pointed out as he moved slowly closer to Brandon, stalking him.

Brandon’s brow furrowed. “I am?” He watched Jake approach, anticipation curling in his gut. He had that look in his dark eyes, the look that Brandon knew meant the other man would soon have him begging. But in an oh-so-good way.

“Oh yeah,” Jake murmured, moving closer. “Takes a lot to face your past,” he said seriously as he cornered Brandon in the kitchen and stepped up to him. Jake sounded serious, so Brandon just waited as he felt the heat of the other man’s body come into contact with him. What did he want him to say? Jake took his face in his hands and kissed him gently.

Brandon’s chest tightened, the ache of memories brought into focus by the tender kiss, but Jake’s words and having him close were a great comfort. He’d never talked to anyone about losing his parents. He relaxed against Jake, their foreheads touching as he kissed him back. To him, it was intensely emotional and painful. He couldn’t admit to Jake how he felt about him. It was just ludicrous. Although he’d known of him for almost fifteen years, they’d only become acquainted a month ago. They’d only found common ground a day ago. How was that possibly enough to fall in love? Brandon sighed.

“You wanna get your things together?” Jake asked him softly, letting his fingers slide into his hair as they remained pressed together.

Brandon nodded, rubbing their cheeks together, breathing in Jake’s scent and finding it calming. But he wasn’t ready to move. Not until Jake did.

“We could just stand here,” Jake murmured with a smile, sliding his hands down and around Brandon’s waist.

Closing his eyes, Brandon gave in, moving to wrap his arms around Jake’s neck and lay his head down on his shoulder. He didn’t know what Jake would make of it. He didn’t want to think about it. He just needed to be close.

Jake understood the urge. He lived in the house where he’d grown up, and even with his parents alive and just a state away, Jake sometimes found himself overwhelmed with melancholy. Memories of better times and crowded rooms that were now empty were just too much to bear sometimes. He held Brandon tighter and turned his head to rub his cheek against his.

Brandon drew several long, slow breaths, almost clinging, before he started loosening his hold on the other man. “Thanks,” he murmured, kissing Jake’s neck.

“Mm hmm,” Jake responded with a rumbling hum, his hands moving up and down Brandon’s back.

Brandon started smiling again as Jake didn’t release him. “So, gonna let go of me anytime soon?” As soon as the words were out, Brandon wished he hadn’t said them. Too easily misinterpreted.

“No,” Jake answered with a smirk, letting his hands drift under the loose waistband of Brandon’s borrowed pants. “Why, did you have something to do?” he asked innocently as he kissed at Brandon’s neck.

“No,” Brandon said, nuzzling Jake’s throat, his smile huge now. “Not besides you.”

“Now that sounds fun,” Jake growled as he nipped at tender skin and gave Brandon a little tug away from the kitchen counter.

Brandon gasped when he felt the little bite. “I’m all for fun,” he said, letting Jake move him as he liked.

Jake murmured back to him and continued to nibble as he dragged him further away from the counter. “Sure you’re not bored with me yet?” he asked teasingly.

“I don’t know how you could ever think that would be possible,” Brandon answered, breathless.

“Oh, you’ll get there soon enough,” Jake assured him with a laugh, “after I pounce on you every time I see you for about a week.”

Brandon raised a brow, giving him a disbelieving look. “And you think I’m going to get tired of that ? Think again, Thundercat.”

Jake growled dangerously and picked Brandon up off the ground by the backs of his thighs, letting his toes drag. “What was that?” Laughing aloud, Brandon taunted him some more by singing the chorus of the hated song. “Oh, you are asking for a beating,” Jake laughed, dragging Brandon toward a bedroom.

“Oh baby, oh baby,” Brandon exaggerated, “give it your best shot,” he managed between chuckles as Jake pulled him down the hall. Jake slammed him against the wall as soon as they got to the hallway and kissed him roughly. Just like that and Brandon was hard as a rock. Moaning and whimpering against Jake’s lips, Brandon responded with the same fervor, curling his hands into his shirt and grinding against him.

“What did you do with that lube?” Jake asked as he pressed him harder into the wall.

“In my ... my pocket,” Brandon managed to get out, hand shifting to dig into the track pants he wore, fingers grasping the small tube and pulling it free. Jake took it from him and stepped back, tugging him forward and pushing him toward the bed. Brandon landed on the mattress on his side and rolled to his back, shoving the loose track pants off his hips and kicking them to the floor.

Jake followed him onto the bed and kissed him again, wondering if Brandon would take control over the encounter since he had expressed an interest in doing so. And apparently the other man was reading his mind, because as soon as Jake settled against him, Brandon rolled them over to land on Jake’s thighs and rub against him while capturing his mouth again. Jake groaned and arched his back, enjoying the pressure on top of him.

Brandon growled and bit down on Jake’s collarbone before kissing the same spot, all the while rocking their erections against each other. “Jake?” he rasped.

“What?” Jake panted.

“I want you,” Brandon said intently. “Can I...” He licked his lips nervously, voice hitching. “I want to fuck you till you lose it and scream.”

Jake gasped out a heavy breath and shivered under Brandon. “You better get started then,” he breathed.

Brandon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then climbed off Jake and urged him to move to the center of the bed as he popped the tube open. He settled between Jake’s thighs with slick fingers and leaned over to lick along his abs before shifting his mouth downward. As his tongue lapped at the head of Jake’s cock, he carefully dipped his fingers inside Jake until the other man shivered uncontrollably.

Jake dragged his short nails over Brandon’s shoulders and then scrambled for something else to hold onto when he realized that wasn’t going to cut it. He reached up and placed his hands flat against the headboard, body arching and whimpers sounding at Brandon’s touch.

Pushing one of Jake’s knees back, Brandon started pushing his cock in, groaning as he got the slightest bit inside. He dropped his head and grasped for his dwindling control. “Now I know why you said it would only take seconds the first time,” he said through gritted teeth.

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.

Brandon groaned and covered his eyes as he leaned against the dugout fence. Another error. What a nightmare. They were down 9-1, 7 hits to 1, zero errors to 4. The kids were dejected when they jogged in from the field for the last inning. Brandon glanced to Jake. His jaw was visibly grinding and his left eye was twitching.

There wasn’t much a coach could do for a team in a game like this. Jake leaned against the dugout wall in the far corner and stood glaring out at the field, the kids giving him a wide berth.

Watching as the terrible game ended, Brandon urged the players out to walk the line to offer the other team congratulations, and he had quiet words with their senior pitcher, who was about to have a shit fit in the dugout. After a minute or so of Brandon’s reasoning, the kid nodded and joined the end of the line before mutely returning to pack up his gear. The assistant coach directed them to the bus immediately, knowing none of them wanted to stick around any longer than they had to.

Brandon stood at the door to the bus as the kids climbed in, and blanched as he saw Misty and a passel of cheerleaders approaching as Jake loaded gear into the bus storage compartments. Shit. This had disaster written all over it.

Jake chucked the bat bag into the compartment and straightened, reaching up to close the heavy door when he saw the woman coming toward him out of the corner of his eye. He growled under his breath and pushed the door down and shoved his shoulder into it to shut it, pretending he didn’t see her.

Brandon swallowed hard. This was likely to be very, very ugly. For Misty, anyway. He jogged over to Jake, speaking loudly enough that the woman approaching could hear. “Hey, Coach, Jeremy needs to talk to you on the bus, some kind of minor meltdown,” he said, voice deep with concern. For Jake, but hey, it worked. He glanced up to see Misty faltering. At least she had some decency where the kids were concerned.

“Coming,” Jake grunted in relief, turning his back on Misty as if he had never even noticed her.

Raising a hand to wave at Misty as though he’d just seen her, Brandon took a few seconds to shut the other storage compartments and shoo the last couple of players onto the bus. He climbed in last and sat in the front seat across from where Jake sat in the driver’s seat. “Let’s get out of here before she decides to climb on and ride back with us,” he muttered.

Jake closed the bus doors quickly and then glanced over his shoulder at Brandon. “We got a count?” he asked.

Brandon nodded, still counting caps back through the bus. “Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. We’re good, Jake,” he answered in a low tone.

Jake put the idling bus in gear and nodded silently, driving out of the parking lot without saying another word. The kids all knew they were going to get an earful at some point. The bus was sedate, almost silent, and when the kids did speak, they did so in hushed tones. Finally when the bus was on the highway, Jake glanced over his shoulder at Brandon and muttered, “Thanks for that back there.”

“You didn’t need to deal with her shit after this afternoon,” Brandon answered, sitting on the edge of the front seat closest to Jake, voice raised just enough to be heard over the road noise.

“It always worries me,” Jake murmured in return, his eyes still on the road, “when she’s followed by the girls. It usually means she’s come up with something official-sounding. Last time it was a date auction to raise money.”

Brandon blinked. “A date auction? Like a date with a student ?” he asked in disbelief.

“Students bidding on students, community members bidding on teachers.” Jake practically shivered as he spoke.

Stunned, Brandon stared at Jake’s profile. “How did I miss this? When was it?”

“It never happened. Apparently I wasn’t the only one horrified by the prospect,” Jake answered wryly.

Relaxing in relief, Brandon shook his head. “Students bidding on students. Yeah, that would have been a wonderful idea. Why not do a slave auction instead?” he asked cynically, remembering such a fraternity function in college.

Jake just shook his head and pulled his right hand off the big steering wheel of the bus, resting it in his lap as he drove. It was days like this that he began to wonder if maybe quitting would do him more good than sticking with it.

Sitting back again, Brandon shifted to lean against the window so he could look at Jake without turning his head. He looked tired and upset, and it was no real surprise. Sighing, Brandon rubbed his eyes with one hand. He had more grading to do tonight, and a couple of tests to make, and he really, really needed to get a run in after skipping the last couple of days. He glanced out the window. Maybe another half hour and they’d be back at the school. He could be home by 10 p.m., go for a run, make the tests and do a little grading, crash about 2. He could do the rest of the grading during tutoring in the morning.

Unless he didn’t sleep at all, too busy thinking about Jake.

Brandon pulled the Jetta into Jake’s driveway. It was 9:10, about what he’d figured, and he had no idea what to say. On one hand, he certainly wanted to stay. He should just come out and ask, but after the depressing tone of the last few hours, he found he couldn’t be that bold. So he turned to look at Jake, whose face was shrouded in darkness. “Get some rest,” he murmured. “We’ll pick the game apart tomorrow.”

Jake turned his head just slightly, not quite looking at Brandon, but not looking away either as he sat in the passenger seat. Well, that was a pretty good indication that Brandon wasn’t planning on staying the night, he thought. He gave a little nod and reached for the door handle, dreading when opening the door would turn the overhead light on.

He wanted to lean over and kiss Jake, and he even reached out, but Brandon stopped his hand and dropped it to the gear shift. Jake wasn’t shy. Surely if he wanted him to stay, he would say something.

Jake hesitated a moment, closing his eyes and telling himself to just ask Brandon to stay. He hurt all over, and he was tried and cranky and pretty damn miserable, and all he wanted was someone warm to hold him tonight. He gave a glance back and saw Brandon’s hand on the gear shift, waiting for him to get out of the car so he could head home. Jake sighed to himself and gave another little nod. “Thanks for the ride,” he said before opening the door and climbing out of the car gingerly. “Have a good night,” he added, leaning over to grab his bag, then closed the door before Brandon could see how torn he was over letting him go home alone.

Brandon almost blurted out something, anything, to stop him, but then Jake was walking away from the car and climbing up the steps to the house. Waiting until he saw Jake was inside, Brandon backed the car out and started driving, on autopilot the whole way home as the scene played over and over in his head. When he got there and stopped in the driveway, he lowered his head to the steering wheel and thwapped it a couple times. He got inside with his backpack and papers, tossed them all on the table and looked right at the phone. Right at it. Resisting, he went to the laundry room, stripped down and pulled on running shorts and a T-shirt. And he looked at the phone. He headed back to the bedroom for his trainers and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed sheets were still a mess from their romp yesterday.

Brandon couldn’t resist any longer. He snatched up the cordless and dialed Jake’s number. As the line buzzed, he berated himself for acting like a middle school girl, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up.

The phone rang just as Jake stepped out of the shower. He’d already done his nightly pills and beer regimen, and the shower was just hot enough to make him languid and sleepy. He took his time getting to the phone, a towel slung over his shoulder as he dripped on the floor.

“Hello?” he answered sedately, not even remembering to check the caller ID first.

Brandon’s eyes immediately fell closed as arousal ripped through him. He’d last heard that tone in Jake’s bed, in Jake’s arms, before they’d fallen asleep last night. “Hey,” he rasped.

Jake blinked in surprise. “Brandon?” he asked in confusion, looking at his wrist to see what time it was and belatedly realizing he didn’t have a watch on. Had he even had time to get home? “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

No. No, I’m not. Not when I’m here and you’re there . “Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted to, ah, check and see if your knee was okay.” Brandon winced. What a stupid thing to say. He turned and pushed his face against the wall.

Jake blinked stupidly again, frowning at the odd tone of Brandon’s voice but not able to figure out quite what was wrong with it. “Uh,” he answered as soon as he realized that he needed to say something, “it’s doing about the same as usual.”

“Right,” Brandon answered, then he caught himself. “I mean, sorry about that. I guess you’ve taken the painkillers and all.” He was standing there shuffling in his own bedroom. God. Could he get any more pathetic? He’d been just fine when they were together.

“Yeah,” Jake answered guiltily, blushing a bit as he drip-dried beside the bed. He’d never felt guilty for his nightly painkiller regimen before; why should he now?

“Okay,” Brandon said, at a loss for what to say but unwilling to give up the tenuous connection over the dead air.

Jake waited, frowning harder now and wishing he had just kicked himself into asking Brandon to stay. Even if Brandon hadn’t wanted to, he probably would have, right? And if he was calling now, maybe he hadn’t wanted to go home after all. “You should’ve stayed,” he blurted.

Brandon’s stomach rolled and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I wanted to,” he admitted.

Jake was silent, the missed opportunity curling in his chest painfully. “We really need to work on our communication skills,” he finally said flatly.

“I agree,” Brandon said, voice strained. He turned and leaned against the wall, sliding down until he squatted, face turned down to the floor. “I just haven’t got the greatest confidence, I guess,” he murmured.

“Me either,” Jake muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his still wet body. He sighed heavily and pulled the towel off his shoulder to begin patting at his skin. “Sorta stupid considering what we did all weekend, huh?”

Brandon groaned. “As much as I appreciate the thought, don’t remind me, okay?” He sighed. “I thought about you all the way home, how I should have said something, how I should have at least kissed you good night.”

Jake’s lips twitched, and he lowered his head. Telephones made some people say things they wouldn’t normally say. For Jake, though, he was probably less likely to say what he wanted if he was saying it to a mouthpiece. He bit his lip, sliding his toe across the floor as he tried to force his tongue to form a response. “You should have,” he eventually replied.

Fuck. Brandon wanted to get right back into the damn car and drive there right the hell now. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a hoarse voice. He was never going to sleep now. Not without a massive jerk-off first.

Jake smiled slightly at the sound of Brandon’s voice. “I thought about you until the water went cold,” he said on impulse, blushing even as he spoke.

“Jesus Christ, Jake!” The voice that rasped was obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to run with my cock this damn hard.”

Jake’s lips twitched into another smile, and he licked his lips. He really enjoyed the idea that just a phone call had excited Brandon. “You should have thought ahead,” he scolded, his voice just a bit lower than normal.

Brandon groaned audibly. “The wrong head is doing all the thinking,” he muttered. “But I’m still glad I called.”

“Me, too,” Jake responded as he dropped his towel and shivered involuntarily. “You really going running?” he asked, not even sure why he asked. What, did he want Brandon to stay on the phone with him until he fell asleep? Jesus.

Sighing, Brandon sank the rest of the way to the floor. He wanted to lie. He didn’t want to expose himself so much. But “I’d rather stay here and talk to you” was what came out.

Jake shivered again as he sat on the edge of the bed. He shook slightly now, but he wasn’t certain exactly why. He considered asking if Brandon was willing to drive back to his house and stay there. He had to make the drive in the morning anyway, right? But he didn’t dare admit how selfish he really was. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last,” he murmured instead, rubbing his eyes as he said it. “I’d feel guilty for keeping you.”

Brandon felt flushed all over. “You sound really tired. I’m going to go for a short run, then grade some papers,” he said, though he felt rather resigned about it. Maybe he’d just curl up in the sheets and see if he could still catch Jake’s scent. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“My pillows still smell like you,” Jake told Brandon with a small smile. “Should be easy to sleep.”

Aw. Hell. “Bastard,” Brandon muttered. “Good night.”

“Night, Brandon,” Jake murmured, his knee bouncing nervously. “I’m glad you called,” he added with a tinge of relief.

“Me too,” Brandon said, then forced himself to pull the phone away from his ear and push the button to end the call. He clutched the cordless between his hands and pressed it to his forehead, feeling more alone than ever. Dragging himself up, he looked at the bed. Within a few seconds’ time he had decided, dropping the phone and crawling into the sheets to curl up there and just remember and dream.

Jake heard the line go dead and sighed heavily as he looked down at the receiver and shut it off. There was something about Brandon’s voice that always left him feeling empty when it was no longer there.