Page 23 of Caught Running
Jake stepped into the still steamy shower and groaned softly as the scalding water hit his skin. Just one night with Brandon down the hall. He could do that without spazzing out, right?
Right.
He showered quickly, letting the hot water warm his cold body and loosen tight muscles. When he’d gotten all the benefit the shower could offer, he turned off the water and hesitated briefly before getting out and patting himself down with a soft towel. He pressed his lips tightly together and then hissed a curse as he realized that he’d forgotten to grab any extra clothing before getting into the shower. Wrapping the oversize towel around his hips, he stepped out of the steamy room hesitantly.
Brandon was still mentally wandering when the water shut off. He took a few steps toward the stairs, but stopped and went back to the fridge to dig through it for something decent for Jake to drink. Beer. Beer. Coke. Beer.Ah ha!Gatorade. He snagged a couple of bottles and started down the hall.
Jake rummaged through one of his drawers for some more boxers and another T-shirt as he clutched at his towel. He felt his shoulders tensing back up as soon as he heard Brandon approaching. Fuck, he was going to have to shake this. It was getting ridiculous.
Stopping on the threshold, Brandon shook the bottles. “I brought Gatorade. It’ll help with the muscle spasms,” he said, though he knew full well how inane it sounded. But he was too busy trying to keep his eyes off the large amount of lightly furred, muscled skin that filled his vision.
“Urgh,” Jake responded, accepting a bottle. “The horse liniment is in the drawer there,” he murmured as he twisted off the top and pointed to the bedside table closest to them.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out the drawer. As soon as he looked, he knew he was on thin ice. A small rounded bottle of lubricant rolled on top of a stack of magazines that just happened to be face down, so Brandon couldn’t read the titles without deliberately looking. There was an accordion of unopened condoms, a large tube of Thermaflex,a television remote of some kind, a dog-eared James Patterson mystery. Nothing all that shocking. Brandon pulled out the Thermaflex, revealing a couple of photographs, one half over the other, and he chanced a glance. The first was Jake and another man with their arms around each other, looking like they were yelling at the camera. The surroundings looked like they were smack in the middle of a Mardi Gras parade. The other photo was black and white, artistic—and provocative. Brandon pushed the drawer shut after a few-seconds delay.
Jake stiffened as he remembered the various items he kept in that drawer, too late to stop Brandon from going into it. He watched the man’s reaction carefully. There wasn’t really anything in there that would scream ‘Coach Likes Dick,’ but you just never knew with the smart ones. They thought differently than most of Jake’s acquaintances. They thought in terms of the bigger picture. He stood watching Brandon expectantly.
Shaking the bottle, the science teacher looked up and gestured for Jake to sit down in front of him. While he could read whatever he wanted into those photos, there was really nothing at all damning about them. Not even close. He could hope, but that would only lead to things that just really shouldn’t happen. Like getting even more obsessed. He squeezed some liniment onto his fingers. “Right shoulder, correct?” he asked evenly.
“Yes,” Jake answered softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at Brandon expectantly. He was actually glad for the towel. Somehow it felt more like something to hide behind than clothing.
Brandon spread the liniment lightly along the line of Jake’s shoulder. “Is the damage in the scalene, the trapezius or the deltoid?” he asked before starting to rub in the gel.
“It wasn’t muscle so much as tendons and ligaments,” the coach said. “I had bone spurs from overuse. By the time anyonerealized I wasn’t just complaining when I said I hurt, it was too late to do much more than clean it out and send me on my way,” he rambled as Brandon’s hands moved over his skin. “But mostly it hurts right along here,” he added in answer to the question as he traced the line of the pain along the front of his shoulder with his finger.
Brandon rubbed lightly at first, slowly strengthening the grip of his fingers until the liniment was starting to soak in. He traced his finger along the same line. “This is the coracoacromial ligament. It holds together the coracoid process, the acromion—” He slid his finger along Jake’s collarbone, “and the head of the humerus,” he completed, rubbing in the rest of the liniment on the ball of Jake’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was very painful.”
“It was,” Jake murmured as the names just flowed through his ears. He concentrated instead on the warm hands on him, the familiar scent of his own shampoo and soap on a man he was entirely unfamiliar with. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes as the liniment began to make them water. His skin grew warm under Brandon’s hands as he continued to press against the shoulder muscles, rubbing, then smoothing, rubbing, then smoothing, working to push the lactic acid out of the area so the muscles could calm and rest.
The motion was repetitive, and Brandon was caught by the heat radiating off the man next to him. Jake had closed his eyes so Brandon took the opportunity to study his features closely. The muscles of his jaw were jumping as he ground his teeth, but his face was otherwise calm and almost tranquil.
Jake had obviously done this many times over the years, let himself be doctored. He shivered violently as the cool air licked at the liniment on his skin. Brandon lifted one hand under the man’s jaw, sliding his fingers along the back of his jawbone to rub at the juncture. “Relax,” he urged, trying to stop theuncomfortable-looking grinding. “You relax one place, tense up another,” he muttered, trying not to let the concern be too evident in his voice. “How do you get any sleep?”
Jake smiled crookedly and opened his eyes. “The pills and alcohol help,” he answered in a rumbling murmur.
The odd moment of tension lightening, Brandon shook his head. “You ought to get yourself a masseuse and a hot tub,” he suggested, rubbing at the last of the liniment and wishing it hadn’t been absorbed so quickly.
“Hell, do you work weekends?” Jake asked with a small smile as he cut his gaze to meet Brandon’s eyes. They were an odd mix of green and blue—almost a sea green—that Jake wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed, and he forgot what else he was going to say as he looked at the man.
The corners of Brandon’s eyes crinkled in amusement as he thought about what he would want to do with Jake’s body spread out in front of him.Fuck. Figuratively, hell. Literally.Down, boy. He’s never going to be interested. “I’m sure something can be arranged,” Brandon answered without censoring his thoughts. He swallowed and scrambled. “After all, not too many guys with a degree in anatomy and physiology running around, are there?”
Jake raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What do you expect in return?” he teased. “I barbecue pretty well,” he offered.
Brandon grinned, a bright light snapping in his eyes. “Barbecue. Sounds great,” he answered. “Sleep space works, too,” he said, thinking of tonight and the guest room Jake had mentioned, not anything else.
Jake’s eyes widened slightly, and he cocked his head, wishing the man meant what it sounded like he’d meant. “Are you suggesting I’d whore myself out for some pain relief?” he asked jokingly. “You’d be right.” He laughed softly.
Although Brandon felt a strike of panic, it faded as he realized Jake was kidding. He smiled, lips twitching as he sifted through any number of responses to such a loaded comment. “I don’t know if anything I have can match that offer,” he finally replied, letting his hands drop to his thighs, the liniment and his excuse to touch gone.
Jake looked up at him with unreadable dark eyes, smiling tightly. “Thanks,” he whispered, unable to make his voice work.
The tension in his gut and chest was suddenly unavoidable and unbearable and Brandon had to move or he was going to do something really, really ill-advised. So he nodded and stood up. “Good night,” he murmured, putting the liniment tube back into the drawer before turning to the door.
“Night,” Jake practically croaked as he sat with his head down, refusing to watch Brandon walk away for fear of tackling him.
Brandon padded down the hall, finding the room with the bed turned down, and he disappeared inside, the light from Jake’s room giving him enough illumination to see. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his racing heart holding off exhaustion for now.Oh God. It was too late. He was hooked and it could only end badly if Jake ever got even a hint. The teasing, it had been driven by something in Jake’s voice, something visceral that Brandon could almost see, could almost identify, but not quite. A deepening friendship, maybe? Trust building between two coworkers? Two men figuring out how to get along instead of butting heads? Or, as his body wanted him to think as he lay back and squirmed, two men feeling each other out for something more? Brandon rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.
Jake sat there in his towel for another moment and finally released a long, steady stream of breath. He got up and walkedover to turn off the light, then let his towel drop to the floor and crawled into bed, nude and smelling of liniment.