Jay & Miles

by ColumbusGuy

Chapter 13

Getting Psyched

POV: Mikey

"Jay?...Jay?" I looked to Rosalie and Dirck, hoping for some sort of advice on what to do—it seemed like ages since Mr. Beckel had welcomed me to the family—but it had probably been less than a minute after I'd held my Dane's hand in full view of his parents and kissed his cheek. I could feel a trembling in his hand where I rested them on the table, and his expression was still one of surprised shock: mouth agape, eyes slightly glazed and brow furrowed. I was getting pretty worried.

Where was my oh-so-confident and care-free boyfriend?

"Give him a minute, Mikey," Rosalie said quietly. She put a glass of water in his other hand, and lifted it to his lips. I saw him swallow once, but nothing else happened. Dirck brought over a few cookies from the jar on the counter and put them between the four of us. For once, I wasn't distracted by the aroma of chocolate chips.

"Jens is the emotional one," he said with a sigh. "Well, you see what a big shock does to him—he needs to find his way back to his plan of action. What were you boys going to do?"

I looked at him blankly—Jay hadn't told me what he had in mind—it was to be a surprise for me. "I don't know, he just told me to bring a change of clothes 'for later'...I guess we were going into town, but I don't know where or why—he got you guys to feed us…"

"You got a problem with free food, boy?" Dirck's eyes were laughing just like the tone of his voice, and he pushed the plate of cookies closer to me. I got the impression that if we acted normally, Jay would settle down faster, so I grabbed one of the home-made pieces of heaven. My eyes must have gotten really wide because Mrs. Beckel—no, Rosalie, she insisted—looked rather smug.

"Adding just a bit of orange flavoring makes them even better, nej?" I was too busy savoring the taste and licking my lips to catch every last crumb to answer, so I just moaned.

"Du er vist en værre slikmund!" The way my boyfriend stared at me was doing odd things to my stomach, and I could have sworn that he was on the verge of kissing me, but he reluctantly turned to face his father instead. "Far, you're not...mad?" he asked softly.

The larger blond got to his feet, walked over to where we were sitting, and pulled each of us up and into a firm hug. His first words were for Jay, but the latter were for both of us. "Mad? Of course not; do I hate my brother Mikkel? The only reason we don't see much of him is that Sam doesn't like the States, especially since Viet-Nam, and they both have good jobs in Toronto.

"It's not always a nice world out there, boys….There are people who won't like you being together—but if you are careful and look out for each other—you can be happy. Will you promise us to do that—both of you?"

I was feeling about as stunned as Jay at this point—I wasn't an athlete, or very aggressive—but I'd do what I could if someone were to try to hurt Jay. I nodded my head and punched his arm playfully. "I'll try, but he's a dead duck unless he tells me where we're going tonight!"

We all laughed at that, and the tension seemed to be broken; Jay shot a quick glance at the clock, and grabbed my hand to head up to his room. "Gotta get ready to go—can't stand around all night!"

I was nearly dragged up the back stairs and around a corner to Jay's room. His and Linda's faced one another across the hall while his parents' was at the end toward the front of the house. The bath was right next to the back stairs at the rear of the house. Before I could look around, Jay began stripping off his tee-shirt, and had removed his belt before he stopped to stare at me. "What's wrong? Want me to undress you?"

Damn him all to hell, just thinking of that was making me hard! There was just one little problem. "Um, unless you forgot, my clothes are in the back of your truck…"

Like a shot, Jay was out the door and pounding down the back stairs again—minus shirt, belt, and his pants-button undone. The screen door slammed, and a few moments later, the banging sound returned along with his mom's exasperated "Jens!"

I took the paper bag from his hand as I gently pushed him back onto the bed. A grin spread across his face, but I gave a gentle smack to his head. "Idiot! Forget something?" When he looked bewildered and confused, I pointed to the shiny wood floor: a line of muddy foot prints led out into the hall, and most likely, all the way to the back door—he'd run outside and back again without his shoes, and his no-longer-white socks were muddy thanks to one of the puddles left from last night's rain.

"Don't you dare move—I'll be right back!" I went into the bathroom and collected the towel and wetted the wash-rag we'd used before dinner, then proceeded to wipe up the prints leading to his room. I rinsed the rag again, and added a little soap to it before I called down the back stairs. "I've got it up here, Missus—Rosalie! I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused!"

"Det er intet problem—det er Jens!" I took her laugh as a good sign, and went back to join my dirty Dane. Something about his 'naughty boy' look went right to my heart and made it beat faster, more so when he gazed at me through his droopy eye-lashes. I knelt in front of him and raised his feet one at a time, running my hands over each and then up his calves to slowly remove the soiled socks. The soapy rag made quick work of his feet, and I rubbed them dry with the fluffy white towel, smiling to see him flinch when I did the soles and insteps. A ticklish spot—I'll make a note of that! The last thing I did on my knees was to put a clean pair of grey boot socks on his number 10 feet, rubbing them gently to warm them.

"I think we should dress now, Jay—since you picked out my clothes tonight, it is my duty to do the same for you!" I looked around, trying to spot his grey western shirt and black jeans he'd worn yesterday...and finally found them folded on top of his dresser. A quick root through the drawers turned up socks, a bunch of tees in various colors and a drawer full of white briefs, mostly Hanes. I shook my head and smirked at him. "Mom buys your shorts, right?"

The blush which flared across his pale cheeks was all the answer I needed—for future reference, I made a quick determination of his size—medium, same as me—and also saw no sign of pajamas at all. He was probably like me, having given up on those when he was around ten: I had a horrid flashback of waking up and padding around in the pale blue ones I'd had with the booties attached and the long sleeves. Sure, they were warm, but the soles always made your feet sweat due to the plastic or whatever they were made of.

As I turned to take my pants and shirt from the bag, I was surprised to see him still sitting there. I tilted my head at him in an interrogatory way, and he shook his head before he whispered: "You washed my feet, and cleaned up my mess, so mor wouldn't be angry with me…."

I waved those words aside and ruffled his blond hair as I shook the wrinkles out of my red shirt. "You gonna get ready to go, or am I getting dressed up to watch the grass grow?"

Jay stood up and gave me a little grin. "Don't worry, I've got plans for us besides that—Slik!" From inside the folds of my half-removed sweater, I asked him what that meant—he'd used something like that down in the kitchen. I felt his hands slide up my chest, stopping for just a second to rub my pecs, then my sweater was lying on his bed. "It's something my mormor Voss used to say—because I liked candy so much, I had a 'candy-mouth'. Thanks to last night, I'll always think of chocolate when I kiss you."

I ducked my head at that, not knowing what to say, but I looked up when I felt him take my hand to place it through the sleeve of my shirt, then guide my other hand in the same way through the left one. Now facing the door, I got my first glimpse of the wall at the foot of his bed, and my eyes nearly bugged out. Against the medium-blue of his wall was what appeared to be a fold-out poster of...David Cassidy!

"Hang on—don't move!" Jay reached under his bed and pulled out a vinyl case and a cassette player—after a few seconds, I heard a song coming out of the speaker—a guilty pleasure it seemed we both shared. I felt hands buttoning my shirt when the lyrics began: ...I woke up in love this morning.

Before the song ended, I'd picked up his gray shirt and slipped it on him, doing up the snaps one by one, my fingers brushing along his own hairless chest as I did so. When I stopped at the lowest snap, I saw his eyes light up with anticipation—I lowered his zipper, exposing his white shorts, but I couldn't bring myself to go further. "It's fine, kæreste...whenever you are ready."

I watched his own hands move slowly toward my belt and begin to unbuckle it...ready to draw back at the slightest sign I wasn't okay with his actions. A tug began the process of drawing the belt out of the loops on my jeans, and I felt his right hand on my hip as he placed it on the bed next to us. He then undid my button, glancing up at me as he lightly brushed his fingers over the zip. My heart beat faster as I gave him a slow nod. The rasp as he slowly lowered it was deafeningly loud to me, and my throat was dry as dust when he ran the back of his index finger up the visible mound of purple cotton thus revealed.

His eyes were torn between watching what his fingers were doing and gazing into mine for any hint of unease. He folded back the trouser flaps at my zip slowly, barely letting his fingers graze what was growing more evident by the second. My briefs were getting tighter and tighter as the front was filled with my hardness—having his two hands now pulling my jeans down inch by inch was only making matters worse! My breath caught in my throat when Jay crouched down in front of me, his face on a level with my straining shorts—I could feel his warm breath as it caressed me only inches away. When his thumbs brushed my thighs as my pants lowered, I let out a long, shuddering moan….

My long fingers, which had been wrapped in his blond locks since he squatted down, moved to the sides of his face just as he leaned in and took a big sniff of my crotch. Frantically, more harshly than I intended, I pulled him to his feet and pushed him back onto his bed. My breaths were deep and labored as I stared at him and the look of hurt on his face. I had to make him realize before he thought I was rejecting what he'd done!

"Jay—I had to stop you! If you'd so much as exhaled—I'd have shot my load into my shorts, and probably all over your face." I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair, my eyes pleading with him to understand. "You have no idea what you do to me—I can't resist you!

"I'm not just saying that, kæreste—it's the gospel truth!" I took a step toward him, entirely forgetting my pants bunched around my ankles, and only Jay's quick action kept me from banging my head on the edge of his bed-frame. His strong arms eased me down onto the blanket so we were sitting side by side. Now, I could see the concern and love gleaming in his eyes—he wasn't upset with me! "I want you so badly—that's what the fear is when we get too frisky—not fear of doing anything, but fear that I won't be able to stop.

"I want our first time to be special...not just sex—I want us to be making love with each other. I need you to be strong for me so I don't lose control…." My words trailed off when I found myself engulfed in Jay's lightly-muscled arms, his hands rubbing my back soothingly, his lips gently kissing my neck.

"Sorry, Slik….no can do." He pulled back so our eyes were locked together only inches apart. Before I could lose myself, his whispery breath tickled my nose and lips. "You're stronger than you think—the way you faced my parents when they outed us—you saw that I couldn't do it, and you saved us both. It's like far said: we look out for each other: I do what I can, you do your part, and so long as we do that—we're invincible."

My lips received a resounding smooch, and he pulled back again so I could see his eyes. Oh shit—he was doing it again—next would come the evil grin….Yep, there it was! My dick had quieted down a bit, but I could feel it twitch in my briefs when he used his socked feet to pull my pants from around my ankles. I tried a weak smile but he shook his head, and I knew I was going to catch hell—yet at the same time, knowing that we wanted the same thing, I knew I could trust him implicitly; we'd do only so much before stopping—until the time was right for us both.

My hands were taken and placed at the open fly of his own jeans, and he pressed them against the fiery heat of his white shorts, molding my fingers to his organ, humping up against my palms.

"You're in big trouble, boy—not only did you issue a hunting license to a starving man—you also supplied him with the tools to bring home his prey...." As he pressed into my nervous grip, his eyes locked to mine, showing me his hunger, his need—but also the loving reässurance that we'd go only so far.

"Take my pants off, kæreste—slowly!"

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