TWO YEARS LATER

THE OLD VILLAGE
MOUNT PLEASANT, SOUTH CAROLINA

At eight o’clock in the morning, the songs of the early birds are drowned out by the birds who are just now waking up, and all of them are apparently gathered in the oak tree outside Jensen’s bedroom window.

He rolls away, hits the warm slope of Jared’s shoulder, and buries his head as far below the covers as he can, but the chirping’s incessant. Last night, he’d fallen asleep listening to the off-beat chorus of tree frogs that congregate in their neighbor’s bamboo fountain (which is nice and full thanks to the almost daily rainstorms moving through the Lowcountry), and clearly it had been too much to hope that he’d wake up to tranquility.

None of this bothers Jared who could fall asleep in the middle of a hurricane—and had last summer, although technically it’d only been classified as a tropical storm. Jared snuffles in his sleep, curling towards Jensen’s chest, and when his legs nudge Jensen’s apart, looking for cooler square-footage on the sheets, Jensen takes sharp notice of the erection poking his hip.

“G’morning,” Jensen mumbles, knowing from years of practice that his voice is one of the things sure to break into Jared’s sleep coma (along with Dundee’s barking and the smell of bacon). It’s difficult to translate Jared’s drowsy murmurs; easier to relax into the heat of Jared’s lips curling over his shoulder—not exactly a traditional good-morning kiss, but the pressure releases a thousand tiny tingles that run all the way down to Jensen’s toes.

Jared continues open-mouthed kissing his skin, over the hill of his bicep and around the bend of his elbow. Muscles waking up, the weight of sleep evaporates from his chest as Jared’s touch sparks life and burns away the lethargy. Two years, more or less, and Jensen’s never taken waking up like this for granted.

“Not sure we have time for what you’re thinking,” Jensen says, spreading his fingers out against the back of Jared’s neck.

“Take the day off.” The request comes from somewhere around Jensen’s navel.

“I can’t,” he says, combing Jared’s hair away from his forehead. “There’s a…ahhh.” Jared nuzzles his hipbones. “I have a meeting about features for the next issue.”

“Well I’m horny,” Jared says, licking the sheet-wrinkled skin of Jensen’s stomach, “and I’m not letting you leave this bed until that’s taken care of.”

For a second, Jensen’s in full agreement with Jared’s plan (what meeting?) until he remembers: “Wait, you completely cut me off last week.”

Rubbing the point of his chin over Jensen’s hip, Jared hums, and the vibration sinks through the layers of his skin. “I had presentations and papers.”

“I had needs.”

“Shut up. I’m not your wife.”

Jensen sweeps his fingers along Jared’s cheekbone, checking him lightly under the jaw. “You would be if it were legal here.”

“Totally,” Jared agrees before biting his finger. “Now can we have sex, please?”

“Since you’re being polite…”

Jared bowls him over, smothers him with a wide stretch of body heat that’s soothing on this rare cool morning. He opens himself to Jared’s mouth, arms flung across the sheets as Jared kisses over his chest and up between his collarbones.

“I get foreplay?” Jensen asks, rolling his throat to create a bridge for Jared’s lips. “I must’ve done something pretty good.”

“You were pretty good last night,” Jared compliments while he leans up to nuzzle behind Jensen’s ear.

Jensen rakes his hands over Jared’s temples, clasping around the back of his neck. He holds Jared enough to feel every breath against his skin. Their mouths may be too sour to kiss, but Jensen intends to enjoy Jared’s nonetheless. “Gunning for a repeat performance?”

Nips that tease with hints of teeth, a tongue that beguiles as it exploits Jensen’s sensitivity, Jared rolls his cock against Jensen’s thigh and says, “Feels like you’re up for it.”

To drive that point home, Jensen uses his legs to upset Jared’s balance and roll him onto his back, kicking the sheets away at the same time. Fresh air wafts down upon Jensen’s back from the ceiling fan, a contrast to Jared’s warm skin beneath him. He settles his weight on Jared’s chest, curling his fingers loosely around Jared’s upper arms.

“Right now?” Jared asks, cradling Jensen’s hips between his thighs. Jensen nods, and Jared takes a deep, extended breath. The inhale lifts Jensen’s upper body; the exhale brings him back. Feeling Jared’s strength in such a small but intimate way has been one of Jensen’s favorite sensations since they got together two years ago, and he never fails to take advantage when he has Jared, flat on his back and willing, and a little extra time.

They undulate for a moment, Jared with a firm grip around Jensen’s waist. Not surprisingly, Jensen’s hard and he feels Jared’s cock swelling even more alongside his. After a week of missing one another because of Jared’s presentations and graduation preparations, and last night’s increasingly physical celebrations, Jensen’s in no rush to get off, but Jared is tossing his head around on the pillow, blush diffusing down his throat.

“Get the lube,” Jensen says, pushing up onto his knees to avoid taking an elbow to the face as Jared scrambles for the nightstand. The offer is already on Jensen’s lips: “Want me to—”

Jared shakes his head, coating Jensen’s cock with the lube he’d poured into his palm. “I’m still loose from last night.”

Which might be true; he’d fucked Jared twice. By the time they’d fallen into a sex coma, Jared was wide open and wet. Jensen had lazed for long minutes pushing his fingers through the slick, teasing Jared’s slack rim and soothing his sleepy moans. Another round right then would have broken Jensen’s cock, but he’s stalk-hard and willing now. However, he’s not eager to take Jared with only last night’s come and lube to ease the way.

Jensen snatches the lube from Jared’s hands, sinks his coated fingers into Jared knuckle by knuckle. He is loose, but Jensen would rather be safe than sorry. That, and he loves how responsive Jared is when Jensen’s breaching him with his fingers first.

“Come on, Jen,” Jared whines. “I told you—”

“I know what I’m doing, thanks,” Jensen says, knocking Jared’s python legs away before they squeeze him into submission. He exposes the shine of a day-old bruise on the inside of Jared’s left thigh, faint pink impressions of teeth ringing an oval of reddish-brown. Sense memory reminds him that he’d seared the mark into Jared’s skin with his teeth and tongue last night, eager to remind Jared what he’d been missing during his grueling final weeks of business school. He’s tempted to renew its luster this morning, only now he’d be staking his claim.

Jared whines from the back of his throat when Jensen’s lips tease the bite mark, leg muscles quivering. He doesn’t yank his limb out of Jensen’s reach though, and Jensen smirks against Jared’s skin after he leaves the bruise glistening with saliva, ringed by a fresh set of bite impressions.

“Jensen,” he pleads, his body doing its best to grasp and pulse around Jensen’s fingers. “Please…”

As much as he would like to punish Jared for freezing him out last week with soft touches and a leisurely attitude, Jensen’s cock is hot and throbbing, watery lube dripping down onto Jared’s balls. It’s impossible for Jensen to think as he enters Jared’s body, processing nothing beyond the give and stretch of Jared’s muscles; the way his inner walls clench and pull like a game of tug and war with Jensen’s cock as the prize.

Soon the spine-melting press of in-in-in turns to the satisfying rhythm of out-in-out. Jensen saws into Jared’s body, knees digging into the mattress for leverage.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Jared groans, latching his ankles around Jensen’s back.

“What about last night?”

“It wasn’t enough.” Jared gasps, neck cording as he twists into Jensen’s thrusts, inner muscles coaxing Jensen deeper. Jared’s eyes screw shut, mouth wide on a silent roar, and Jensen knows he’s found the perfect angle to batter Jared’s prostate. Last night, they’d fucked in half a dozen different positions, frantic and impatient, each one better than the last. Now, face-to-face with his boyfriend, Jensen doesn’t want to switch. They’re lined up perfectly, hips slotting together again and again like worn gears sliding into place.

“C’mere, Jen,” Jared breathes, tongue darting out to meet Jensen’s as they fold into one another. His hands skim up Jensen’s back, nails scraping over his shoulder blades. Behind Jensen’s neck, Jared intertwines his fingers, keeping Jensen’s lips prisoner against his.

“Close?” Jensen asks, slipping the single word past Jared’s blockade of his mouth. Jared swipes his tongue behind Jensen’s teeth, groaning, before dropping his hands and releasing Jensen’s lips. “I’ll get you there, Jay. Let me see you work your cock.”

Rearing up, Jensen watches Jared wrap one hand around his raw, desperate flesh, stroking in time with Jensen’s lunges. He pistons in and out with added power, forcing his dick over Jared’s prostate. His heart beats against his chest, counting down the seconds before pleasure takes him, but he needs to see Jared get off first.

“Faster, Jay,” he directs, breathless. “I know you’re so close.”

And he’s right; Jared seizes, his grip going solid as he comes all over his stomach. Semen gathers in the valley between his abdominal muscles, slick and opaque and delicious if Jensen could just get his tongue down there to taste.

Jensen keeps pounding through Jared’s completion, every half-broken sound from Jared’s mouth urging him on. Grips Jared’s thighs and holds them around his waist, nails digging scalloped rows into Jared’s skin. Jensen breaks on his final thrust, knees sliding out from under him as orgasm rips through his muscles.

Quicker on the recovery, Jared gathers Jensen against his chest. “Mmm, good morning,” he says, barely wincing as Jensen pulls out.

“It was, huh?”

“Aren’t you glad you stayed in bed just a little longer?” Jared asks.

Jensen leans up, savoring the sweet kiss Jared drops on his lips. “Always. But now I’m really going to be late.” He sees Jared’s mouth starting to fold into a pout and trades him another kiss. “Totally worth it, though. Maybe I should call out sick…”

“Reid would see right through you,” Jared says, moving to stretch but giving up halfway through, tucking his face back into his pillow. “Better get going.”

“Fine,” Jensen huffs. “Are you gonna get up?”

Jared’s nope is muffled in the down pillow; Jensen can’t blame him. The last few weeks have been rough, and if Jared wants to savor four days off from any kind of responsibility (even Scott had insisted Jared cash in his vacation time) until his family flies in for his Master’s ceremony later in the week, Jensen’s not going to argue with him.

Jared doesn’t get out of bed until Jensen’s finished with his shower and starting to get dressed. He ambles past Jensen to their bathroom, idly scratching his belly. The mottled flush is fading from his skin and his cock hangs down along his right thigh. Transfixed, Jensen almost abandons the buttons to kneel at Jared’s feet and indulge his palate with velvety soft, musky skin. But he’s already used up his quota of ‘morning sex’ excuses with Reid (who sympathized at first), and today’s meeting is an important one.

Instead, Jensen asks, “You still up for dinner tonight?”

It catches Jared in the middle of a yawn. “Huh?”

“Dinner downtown. I mentioned it last night, but then we got a little distracted…”

“Mmm, right,” Jared says, walking back into the bedroom. He grabs running shorts and a College of Charleston School of Business t-shirt from the dresser. “Are we going to Cru? It’s been a while since you’ve seen Dom.”

“Maybe. I haven’t made reservations yet.”

“Just text me with the time and place.” Dressed for his morning run around their cozy, Old Village neighborhood, Jared walks up to Jensen with lips begging for a kiss. Jensen’s mouth is so fresh and tingly from the minty rinse, he barely minds the bitterness on Jared’s tongue. “I’m gonna take Dundee with me to the beach later. Genevieve and her boyfriend are bringing tons of food. You sure you can’t come down for a little while?”

“I’ve got a crazy day.” Jensen wishes he could tell Jared the whole of it, but the deception will pay off later. “But tell Gen I said hello.”

Jared picks up his sneakers and walks off, stretching as he disappears down the hall. Dundee’s sharp barks punctuate Jared’s thunk-pause-thunk as he stomps down the stairs, cooing to their Australian shepherd mix when he gets to the bottom. Jensen hurries to finish dressing, a smile on his face the entire time.



The enormous red and blue dolphin tail of a cruise ship leaps above Charleston’s low skyline from where it’s docked at the Cooper River terminal. Jensen can see it as he walks down Meeting Street with Jared, weaving through packs of map-clutching tourists pausing to take pictures in front of pre-Civil War buildings, wrought iron gates protecting courtyard gardens, and cemeteries overgrown with ivy.

Turning off Meeting, Jensen leads Jared past a stone-laid piazza set just off the main road. It’s shaded from the sunset by a series of arbors and trellises. Beyond, stands a three-story building of brick, stone, and stucco whose true age is tough to place. Iron rails enclose narrow balconies that protrude here and there from the upper floors. At street level, expansive picture windows open onto the tranquil beauty of downtown; a line of crepe myrtles garnished with pink and white blooms dot the sidewalk.

Jensen stops in front of a particular window while Jared keeps walking, oblivious until he goes to say something and wises to the fact that Jensen’s behind him.

“Don’t tell me you’re lost,” he sighs, retracing his steps.

“Nope,” Jensen says, “this is the place.”

Approaching the window, Jared cups his hands and peers inside. Jensen rocks on his heels, studying Jared’s face for a reaction, but all he sees is the dark shadow reflected from inside.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anyone here yet.” Jared leans away and checks his watch. “Are we early?” he asks. “I don’t see a sign. When do you think they open?”

Jensen’s heart is beating at a nervous jitter, face fighting a grin. “This fall.”

“So why—” Jared stops and whatever else he’s going to say falls into the unknown, lost forever. He looks between Jensen and the empty storefront, his oak green eyes unscrambling the clues.

Wait for it…

“Jen,” is all Jared manages to say before physical reaction subdues his speech. The way Jensen’s grin breaks out into a cheek-splitting smile is confirmation enough for Jared to launch himself over the cobblestones and smother Jensen in a hug.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Jensen listens to Jared repeat with less and less breath each time. He lets Jared have his freak out (because Jensen’s had more than his share already), happily enduring the way Jared sways around with him on the sidewalk in a dance that must look absurd to anyone strolling down the side street.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening. How did you—” Jared tries, cutting himself off. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It came together pretty quickly,” Jensen admits. “Reid’s been scouting the space for a while, and as soon as it opened up, he called me and we had to jump.” He tilts his chin towards the dappled sunlight shining through low-hanging branches. “It’s perfect though, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you could have picked a better location,” Jared says, touched by wonder. Then the business slice of his mind jumps into the conversation. “Reid decided to invest then?”

“He thought it’d be great to have a restaurant to tie in with the magazine. Debuting recipes instead of simply writing about them, holding special events and tastings, and really becoming a part of the city rather than just retelling the stories. And Josh wants to be a part of this, too,” Jensen adds. “The firm’s got him set up pretty well here.”

“And he’ll always support his little brother,” Jared tacks on with a laugh. “This is amazing, Jen. Seriously. Your own restaurant—you’ve worked so damn hard to get back here, and I can’t wait to help out in any way you need me to.”

Jensen grins. “That’s good, because there’s gonna be a hell of a lot of paperwork hitting your desk as soon as you graduate.”

“My—” Jared stutters through his surprise. “You want to hire me?”

“There’s no one else I’d even consider,” Jensen tells him, heart filled to bursting on this cool Lowcountry night. “Plus, I’m planning on keeping you close for stress relief.”

“Stress relief?”

“Sexual favors.”

“For the right salary,” Jared says, “we can definitely work something out.”

From his pocket, Jensen pulls out a set of keys. They jangle in his fingers, and it’s the best sound Jensen’s heard in a long time—proof that Jensen managed to achieve his dream. He’s investing the majority of his savings into the restaurant (including his Chopped winnings and the profit he’d made from selling his condo), but he knows the payoff will be even greater.

“Feel like taking a look inside?”

“Inside our new restaurant?” Jared grabs Jensen’s hand, tugging him towards the door. “I’m about to steal those keys from you if you don’t hurry the hell up!”

Jensen stops at the door and imagines the way this stretch of sidewalk might look a few months from now. Potted urns with lush vines and edible flowers (not actually for eating, but they’re great visuals); the arbors and trellises wound with rich colors and shade-giving leaves on the patio; windows that beckon passers-by with an atmosphere that’s not to be missed; their menu proudly displayed beside the door.

“Wait.” Jared stops Jensen before he can turn the key. “Does this mean I get to pick out a name?”

“For the restaurant?” Jensen teases. “Maybe.”

“I’ve been keeping a list for almost two years, waiting until you had your own place,” Jared says. “How about Jay’s Porch?”

“Are you the Jay?” Jensen asks. “Because I think I should be the Jay.”

“Eh, I’m not big on that one, actually. How does Thicket sound?”

“Too much like a steakhouse at an outdoor mall.”

“Cedar?”

Jensen laughs. “Do you have a thing for trees?”

“Whatever,” Jared says, not looking bothered in the slightest. “I’ll come up with something better.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but it’s for show; Jared’s enthusiasm is the fuel that will keep him running when the planning gets tough. He’s been through worse, but with a true friend like Reid backing him up, Josh standing beside him, and Jared as his partner, Jensen will rise to the occasion, adding his signature to the list of Charleston’s masters of cuisine.

“Oh my god,” Jared groans, tightening his grip on Jensen’s hand. “Open the door before I do some serious damage to our restaurant!”

They take their first breath of entrepreneurship together before Jared’s mouth is running with ideas. Jensen tries not to vibrate out of his skin with the way Jared’s excitement is affecting him.

Jensen’s planning to wait until they’re home before revealing the final surprise, because he’s already chosen the name of his new restaurant—seven letters drying on the paperwork back in Jensen’s office.

Tristan.


FIN.



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