Interlude: First Noel (The Executive Office #1.5)

by Tal Bauer

Hanier had picked him up at the airport, shaking his hand before pulling him in for a quick hug. They’d piled into the SUV, and Hanier had turned on the red and blues, making fast time back to the White House while they caught up, until his friend and fellow agent dropped him at the private entrance with a wink. Footsteps echoed over the marble floor of the Cross Hall below. He spun, blowing air out of his hollowed cheeks as he waited. The stairs were U-shaped, with a landing halfway down at the bend. Ethan spotted Jack rushing up the lower half, taking the stairs two at a time, his black overcoat flapping behind him. Jack rounded the curve, one hand on the bannister, and looked up. His eyes met Ethan’s. He stilled. And then broke into a thousand-watt smile, his whole face lit from within. He pounded up the last of the stairs, his gaze fixed to Ethan’s until he came to a stop right in front of him, so close their chests brushed. “Hey,” Jack breathed. His eyes glittered as he gave Ethan a long once-over. He leaned forward, as if he was going to fall into Ethan, but caught himself, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “Hey.” Ethan’s grin was shy. He couldn’t look away, but he couldn’t move either. For weeks, all he’d wanted was to reach for Jack, hold him in his arms, and now that he was inches away, he was struck immobile, frozen by everything Jack was. His fingers tingled and his palms twitched as his eyes roamed over Jack and his stunning smile. Jack glanced up and grin...

Ethan dropped Jack’s overcoat and then his suit jacket in a line as they moved, never breaking their kiss. Jack’s tie came off next, then Ethan’s sweater, and Jack’s hands roamed over Ethan’s chest. Jack’s lips traveled down Ethan’s neck, sucking on his collarbone, his chest, as Ethan fumbled with Jack’s belt. They were stumbling down the hall, a trail of clothes in their wake, but it wasn’t fast enough. Ethan burned, wanting more. His back hit the wall, hard, as Jack shoved him, burying his face in Ethan’s chest and leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from his nipple to his ear and then back to his lips. Jack’s hands worked at Ethan’s jeans as Ethan shivered and pushed Jack’s pants down. The black fabric fell to the floor, pooling around his feet. Jack toed out of his shoes and laced their fingers, pressing Ethan’s hands to the wall over his head. He sucked Ethan’s lower lip into his mouth again, grinning, and then slowly slid down Ethan’s body while he tugged Ethan’s jeans off. Fuck, his body felt so good, hot and solid against Ethan, pressed tight with every inch of his slither. Ethan’s head hit the wall as Jack’s lips closed over his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. “Jack…” Jack winked up at him, lips wrapped around his cockhead. Ethan pulled Jack to his feet. “Bedroom. Now.” Jack stood, his knees popping, and dragged Ethan the rest of the way down the hall. Their trail of clothes stretched from the stairs to the bedroom door as Jack tore his undershirt ...

It had been too long for them to make it last. Ethan was too strung out on nerves and anticipation. He came embarrassingly fast, shuddering beneath Jack as Jack pressed an openmouthed kiss to his temple, his ear, and breathed his name. A few moments later, Jack’s come seared his belly as Jack’s hands threaded through his hair, holding tight as he stared into Ethan’s eyes and rode the final crest of his orgasm. Ethan’s arms wound around Jack as he collapsed, pillowing his head on Ethan’s chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head, smelling his hair, and smiled. “Missed you,” he whispered. Jack’s fingers made patterns on Ethan’s skin, through his chest hair, tracing the line of his pec and the taut peak of his nipple. “Missed you every single minute.” His throat squeezed shut at that, and his hands stroked up and down Jack’s back. He kissed Jack’s hair again and looped one of his legs around Jack’s. The exhaustion of the week, the peaceful stillness of the Res...

“Hey, let’s get a photo in front of the tree.” They went for the big tree next to the fireplace, and Daniels snapped pictures on his and Jack’s phones, first of everyone gathered together and then of just Jack and Ethan, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, smiling for the camera. The rest of the agents clustered behind Daniels, watching and grinning. “C’mon, Ethan. Act like you like the guy a little bit. Give him a kiss!” The agents whistled and cheered, laughing as Jack’s ears flushed a ruby red. But he turned to Ethan and smiled, a question in his eyes. It was all on Ethan. They tried to be circumspect everywhere, tried to nip the media frenzy in the bud, but this was their home. These were men who Ethan had served next to for years, men he considered friends, and who were cheering them on, literally and in every other way imaginable. Did he need to hold back in front of such support? He cupped Jack’s cheek, his thumb stroking Jack’s warm skin, and leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, heated kiss. Jack smiled against him, moaned softly, and slid his fingers through Ethan’s hair as Daniels and the rest of the agents catcalled and clapped. “Whoa, whoa!” Daniels kept taking pictures, practically a hundred of them kissing in front of the tree. “Do we need to vacate? Give us a minute to give you the room, sir!” And then Jack was laughing, turning away from Ethan with crimson cheeks, but he gripped Ethan tight, clinging to his shoulders. Ethan held his waist, and they...

For now, it was host to the Security Council of the United Nations, the five permanent member nations―the United States, Russia, the United Kingdom, France, and China―and the ten nonpermanent member nations currently in rotation, along with their heads of state, their staff, and ambassadors. It was a smorgasbord of political power. A who’s who of countries, policy makers, and influencers. Some of them supported Jack and his relationship with Ethan. Others vehemently opposed him. Had railed against him in their countries. Had withheld their hands from him when he went in for a handshake, or turned away entirely, as if he wasn’t even there. Or worse. As if he was something disgusting. Heads turned, everyone staring as Jack strode onto the terrace surrounded by his detail. Eyes slid over him, their slick, hot slide shivering down his spine. God, he wished Ethan were there. He’d wanted him, desperately, at the G20 over Thanksgiving, but it would have been impossible to bring him along. Not with their commitment to keeping themselves low-key and Ethan wanting to rebuild his career in the Secret Service. If he had asked, though, would Ethan have accepted? He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to face it if Ethan had turned him down. Or worse, if Ethan had said yes because he thought he had to. But, what would it feel like, having Ethan at his side, his acknowledged partner, during these events? It would feel better than winning the presidency; he was sure of it. All the other spou...

“Do you have any family, Mr. President?” Jack tried to change the direction of their repartee. He kicked himself a moment later. Of course Puchkov had family. He hadn’t popped out of the Siberian wilderness, harvested from the permafrost and raised by wolves. “I have a Russian pair. Two ex-wives.” Puchkov smiled. One hand moved while he talked, big gestures in the air. “That was long ago. Now, I am devoted civil servant. I serve my people.” He took another sip, his eyes pinching at the corners. “And you, Mr. President? Mr. Reichenbach is not here with you tonight?” Jack shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He drank instead, sipping the vodka tonic and squinting over the East River. Snow huddled on both banks and clung to New York’s skeleton trees. “He is working in your state of Iowa, yes?” Puchkov peered at Jack, practically staring. So the Russian intelligence system was keeping tabs on them. Jack smiled, big and bold, and turned back to Puchkov. “That’s right. In Iowa. Catching bad guys in the Midwest.” Puchkov laughed. “Like a cowboy. Chasing down the bad guys on a horse, yes? Does he have a hat? One of those big ones?” Was Puchkov making fun of them? Sometimes he couldn’t tell. Jack tried to picture it, though. Ethan as a cowboy in the Old West. He chuckled. “No hat. No horse.” Silence fell over the pair as they both drank again. Jack’s thumb stroked down the edge of his class, tapping where Puchkov couldn’t see. “It… must be difficult,” Puchkov finally s...

Jack glanced at the clock mounted above the phoenix painting stretching on the far wall, behind Puchkov. “Do you mind if we take a short break? I… need to make a phone call.” Puchkov’s eyebrows shot up. “Something to talk with your advisors about? We can discuss, Mr. President. Is there something we must adjust?” “No. It’s personal. I call Ethan every night. One way we stay close.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s already late.” Puchkov tapped a pen against his palm. “I need to stretch my legs. I think I will take a walk. I will return shortly.” He winked, tossed his pen on the papers, and headed out, his hands in his pockets. Jack slumped in the Pakistani delegation’s main chair at the Security Council table and spun his laptop toward him. A few quick strokes, and he had the secured signal the White House IT guys had put on his laptop enabled. A few more, and then he was opening Skype and dialing Ethan’s number. The call answered, the screen onlining to reveal Ethan hovering in front of his computer as if he’d just run across his apartment to answer. He was shirtless and his hair was damp. “Hey!” Ethan beamed. “Lemme grab a shirt.” He disappeared. “You don’t have to!” Jack’s jaw had fallen open and his mouth had gone dry, his tongue hot and heavy and useless when Ethan had appeared, his bare chest in front of the camera. He swallowed. “I mean, you can. If―if you want to. But… you don’t have to.” He shrugged, a helpless smile tugging on his lips. Ethan reappeared, his head p...

The media, tipped off about his imminent arrival, was out in force at Dulles airport when Ethan landed. He pushed through the throng of reporters to his designated pickup location. Scott was waiting at the curb, his hands in the pockets of his wool trench coat, stone-faced and solemn. Snow lightly fell, settling on his shoulders, and he looked, to the world, grim. Ethan spotted the light in his eyes, though, a slight twinkle as he winked when Ethan got near. “Don’t cream yourself,” Scott muttered into Ethan’s ear as he opened the rear door for him. Frowning, Ethan slid inside― And found Jack sitting there, against the window and just out of sight of the hounding media, beaming. “Hi,” Jack breathed. Scott shoved the door closed on Ethan before any of the photographers spotted Jack. Scott hopped into the front and the driver took off, all while Ethan stared speechlessly at Jack. “What are you doing here?” he finally said, speaking around his own wide smile. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. Don’t you have more important things to do?” “Nothing more important than this.” Jack reached for him, sliding his hand up Ethan’s arm, cupping the back of his neck. He pulled, gently dragging Ethan across the back seat as he lunged for him. They met in the middle, lips tangling. Ethan shucked his duffel to the floorboards and reached for Jack, threading his fingers through Jack’s hair, cradling his face and running his hands down his neck, his shoulders. Jack moaned and grabbed Ethan’s ...

The agents holding post at the entrance chuckled as Ethan and Jack breezed past and onto the service elevator that would take them straight to the Residence, bypassing the public spaces of the White House. Ethan and Jack stood side by side, three feet apart, and waited for the elevator doors to close. Jack smiled serenely, as if nothing were amiss. Ethan coughed. Outside the elevator, Scott grinned at them both, shaking his head. The doors shut. Ethan dropped his duffel like it was on fire. Jack flung his jacket to the ground. They crashed into each other, meeting in the middle of the elevator, but Ethan backed Jack up until he hit the wall, his hands running over Jack’s body. Moaning, Jack tipped his head back, and he snaked one leg around Ethan’s. Ethan kneaded Jack’s ass. Jack shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around Ethan’s neck and jumped, both legs going around Ethan’s hips. Ethan pressed him against the elevator wall, driving his hard cock against Jack’s, grinding them together. Jack’s thighs squeezed, and his fingers ran through Ethan’s hair. “Can you carry me like this?” Jack breathed into his ear. “Fuck yes,” Ethan nipped at Jack’s jaw. His hands squeezed Jack’s ass again. “Do it.” Jack tugged at Ethan’s tie, pulling it off, throwing it on the floor. His fingers worked the buttons of Ethan’s shirt as he rolled his hips into Ethan’s. “Take me to bed. I want you. Ethan―” Ethan’s lips found Jack’s just as the elevator door opened to the Residence. Ethan carried Jac...

Suddenly, Jack was speaking into his ear. “Hey beautiful.” Ethan spun, almost dropping his champagne flute. He was hiding out by the windows and the third Christmas tree, and he hadn’t seen Jack approach. Beyond, Scott and Welby were keeping a slight distance to give them some privacy. “Hey.” He let his eyes travel down Jack’s body, over the tux that fit him so perfectly well. “Hanging in there?” Jack had spent a few hours in the photo line. “Doing better now.” Jack winked and took a sip of his own champagne. “So.” His eyes twinkled. “What’s a gorgeous guy like you doing in a place like this?” Ethan laughed, throwing his head back, as Jack kept smiling. “You trying to flirt with me, Mr. President?” “Maybe.” “Mmm, I’m afraid I’m already taken, Mr. President.” “Is that so?” Jack’s eyebrows shot straight up. “By the most amazing man. He’s absolutely perfect.” “Do tell me more about this great man.” Jack’s eyes glowed. “Will I have to have him taken out?” He stepped close enough that their sides brushed. “I’m the president, you know.” “Nothing could pull me away from him, Mr. President.” It was a joke, their flirting, but Ethan’s voice dropped, almost like he was vowing. He swallowed, and his eyes caught on the gazes fixed their way, and how half the room was staring at them and pretending not to. “He’s got a smile that makes me weak in the knees.” Slowly, Jack smiled. “Oh yeah?” Ethan’s knees wobbled. “Oh yeah.” Their eyes met and held as Jack took a sip of his champagne, his...

Ethan made breakfast in his boxers while Jack sat and watched from the kitchen island, tangling his feet around Ethan’s thighs every few minutes. When the cinnamon rolls were in the oven, Ethan pounced, lifting Jack from the island and carrying him to the couches in the West Sitting Hall. Laughing, Jack pulled Ethan down, and they made out while the snow tapered off outside the windows and the smell of warm cinnamon and fresh-squeezed orange juice filled the Residence. They fed each other, Jack making a show out of licking the sticky mess off Ethan’s fingers and giggling absurdly. Ethan swiped frosting on the tip of Jack’s nose, over his chin, and along his neck, and then took far too long licking it off. Jack’s parents calling interrupted their antics. Jack answered with a hoarse voice, a little too raspy and a little too low, and Ethan flushed. His mom and dad didn’t mention it, though. Ethan traded his first nervous hellos with Jack’s parents over speakerphone, Jack’s warm eyes fixed on him, a soft smile permanently on his face. “Ethan?” Jack’s mother said. “Is it really you? After all this time, we’re finally talking?” “Yes, ma’am. It’s me.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry―” “It’s all right; we’re finally talking now. You two having a good Christmas so far?” “Yes, ma’am.” He hoped his huge smile translated into his words, into his voice, for Jack’s mom. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting you, Ethan. Come down to Texas sometime. Bring my son, too.” Ethan laughed. “I will, m...

Eventually, Jack led Ethan back up the Residence and to the Study. A fire was already going, and Ethan’s packages had been added under the tree. Jack grabbed all five and carried them to the couch. Grinning, he passed the first present to Ethan. It was small and light, and Ethan’s heart skipped a beat as he ripped the paper. An ornament sat in his hands. A silver frame, and inside, a picture of him and Jack in front of the tree in the East Room when Daniels had taken their picture. It was after the kiss, when Jack was laughing out loud, turned toward the camera, and Ethan was staring at Jack, grinning like a little boy. On the bottom of the frame, engraved in bold swirling strokes, it read, “Our First Christmas.” Jack was quiet as Ethan stared at the ornament. “It’s perfect,” Ethan whispered. Jack gently plucked it from his palm and went to the tree. He picked a high branch, dead center, and slipped the satin ribbon around a finger of evergreen. It bobbed and bounced, but the ornament stayed on. “Now it’s perfect.” When he sat, Ethan passed Jack the bigger of his two boxes. He couldn’t smother his grin at all. Jack tore into the wrapping paper and then the box. He burst out laughing, his head tipping back against the couch, before he slid the teddy bear out. “Aww.” He fingered the curled bit of shoelace going from the bear’s ear to his suit and the engraved sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Is this my stand-in Secret Service bear when you’re not here?” Jack’s eyes twinkled. “So...

“You have one more gift.” He reached for Jack’s last present. It was slim and flat, and as Ethan tore into the paper, it was Jack’s turn to bite his lip. Jack gripped his new bear, his eyes wide. The wrapping paper fell to the carpet. A book sat in Ethan’s hands, hardbound in navy blue. Printed on the cover, beneath the same picture of him and Jack from the Rose Garden that he had tucked away on his desk in Des Moines, were the words “Year One.” He breathed in slowly, flipping the book open. Pictures from the campaign dotted the first half page, followed by Jack’s election victory night. In every picture, Jack was there, but so was Ethan. Him, in the corner of the frame, serious and glowering over the crowd. Him, protecting Jack on a handshake line. He turned the page. Jack, just before the Inauguration Parade, and him at his side. “I asked Pete to pull every photo of the two of us. Even ones before we were together.” Jack shrugged, and his fingers played with his bear’s tie, plucking at the fabric. Photos of him and Jack at Camp David, laughing side by side, captured by the White House photographer. Images back in DC, him holding the door for Jack as he entered the Oval Office. They were both smiling, and there was something there, something in their gazes that stole Ethan’s breath. Even before everything, even before they were secretly hanging out―not even dating, not even friends― there was raw electricity crackling between them. Pictures of him hanging out in the Oval ...

Prague. His fingers stuttered on the page. Between the last picture and Prague, his foolish kiss had happened beside the pool table in the game room. There was a picture of him at Jack’s side, climbing out of the presidential SUV right before he met with Puchkov for that fateful early morning meeting. Jack had leaned into his side, and Ethan had wanted to grab him and hold on forever. Jack’s face was tight and Ethan looked ready to brawl, but they were angled toward each other, almost desperately, as if they wanted to turn toward the other and melt into his arms. He had felt exactly like that, but he thought he’d done a better job hiding it. Another image, him shadowing Jack making the rounds at the cocktail reception after. His eyes were fixed on Jack as Jack spoke with the German chancellor. And then, the next page, when Air Force One landed stateside after Prague. Someone had captured a picture of Jack passing him his jacket that he’d left in Jack’s cabin on Air Force One, and the way they were beaming at each other― Well. It was no wonder Scott had figured it all out that moment. Pages of pictures after, mostly official ones from the White House photographer. Apparently they...

“Keep going.” He turned the page. Jack accepting his folded flag in Arlington, looking like his world had ended. Jack, one hand hovering over Ethan’s coffin. Jack, sobbing, nearly collapsing into the coffin, barely able to stand. “I didn’t know if I should leave those. But they happened. They’re part of us.” It took a few swallows, but Ethan finally managed to get past the lump in his throat. His fingers traced over Jack’s bowed back, the despair in his face. He turned the page. A printout of the news headline and a picture of Jack on the day he told the world that he and Ethan were more than friends, more than colleagues. That he loved Ethan. “I’m so sorry,” Ethan murmured. “That you had to do that―” “I didn’t have to. Pete told me to deny it. I chose to say what I said.” “Why?” Ethan frowned, and he finally turned away from the photos. “Why, Jack? Why did you reveal it all? Y...

“I’m sorry I did it without you.” Jack’s expression twisted, frustration and guilt at war with each other. “When you did come back… I’d changed your entire world. You didn’t even get a choice about it.” He plucked at the bear again. “I feel bad about that.” His eyes opened and caught on their Christmas tree. On their matching stockings. Wandered back to their ornament and the picture within the small frame. Would they have had any of this if they hadn’t been outed? If they had to stay in hiding? He reached for Jack’s hand. “I told you before. I wouldn’t change anything. This, all of this, is exactly what I want.” Jack smiled, squeezing Ethan’s hand. “There’s more.” He pointed back to the book. Ethan turned to the next page. One photo, blown up to cover both pages. Him kissing Jack in the back of the ambulance on the White House North Lawn after everything had gone down. After Black Fox, and Jeff, and Ethan helping Jack out of the destroyed White House. “‘The kiss that shook the world’.” Jack shook his head, but he smiled. The rest of the pages were a mix of pictures from Jack’s phone and the media. The two of them together in the White House, walking with Ethan’s arm around Jack...

Screenshots of Ethan over Skype, smiling, blushing, laughing. Shots from the weekends. Drinking beers together. A selfie watching the Super Bowl. Another official photo, this time from behind, the two of them in silhouette with their hands clasped, standing on the Truman Balcony and gazing at the Washington Monument. Jack’s selfies from the Christmas tour and the pictures Daniels had taken. Even the one Daniels had sneaked in, the group selfie of the agents grinning for Jack’s camera. Finally, on the last page, pictures from the Christmas Ball only days before. Him and Jack dancing and gazing into each other’s eyes, smiling and sneaking kisses. Christmas trees and golden decorations floated in the background, but Jack’s smile and the love in Ethan’s eyes stole the soul of the picture. “We did everything in-house. Turns out, you can get things pretty quickly around here if you’re the president.” Jack leaned into Ethan’s shoulder, smiling. “This is…” He didn’t know what to say. Amazing? Unbelievable? Perfect? He shook his head. “It’s―” How did he quantify this gift, a seemingly simple book of pictures with the one man who made his soul feel like it was on fire? God, it was so much...

Jack’s eyes closed as he smiled and leaned forward, nuzzling his forehead against Ethan’s. After a moment, Ethan pulled Jack closer, lying back and tugging Jack until he was lying on top of him, the teddy bear mashed between the couch and their sides. Jack rested his cheek on Ethan’s shoulder as Ethan stroked up and down Jack’s back,...

They stayed in bed almost all day on Saturday. Ethan woke first, teasing Jack awake with a sloppy blowjob, until Jack’s fingers gripped his hair and tugged as he came. He reciprocated, Ethan ripping Jack’s bedsheets free from the corners of the mattress. Later, Ethan grabbed his new coffee cup for them to share, bringing it back to bed along with the teddy bear and the photobook. They went through each page, every photo, reminiscing about their building friendship and their secretive relationship, and when they had to hide that they were dating while still working in the West Wing. Clearly, in hindsight, they had done a piss-poor job hiding everything. It was all there in the way they looked at each other. How they stood a little too close. Ethan’s hands lingering on Jack’s back or his shoulder, or their smiles and gazes hanging for just a bit too long. Captured forever in official White House photos. Jack’s playful selfies of them both made Ethan’s heart want to burst. Moments he remembered. Moments when Jack had taken a picture without him knowing. Even though they wanted to ignore the world, and have the world ignore them for just one day, Jack was still the president and there was still an invasion only days away. Jack took phone calls, totally naked in bed, while Ethan slipped into the bathroom. He came back and nuzzled Jack’s hip, kissed his belly, and laid his head on Jack’s thigh. Jack’s eyes blazed, burning as his fingers ran through Ethan’s hair as he talked thro...

“C’mere,” Jack breathed, holding his hand out to Ethan when he was done. His eyes lingered on Ethan’s body, trailed over his chest and his legs. Ethen went, smiling as he landed beside Jack. Heat from the fire tickled his arms, the backs of his knees. They kissed slowly as the fire warmed their bodies, prickled sweat against their skin. One of Jack’s hands cupped Ethan’s cheek and Ethan’s heart fluttered. “I want to suck you,” Jack murmured against his lips. “Is that okay?” He moaned. “Yeah. ’Course.” Ethan lay back, propped on his elbows with his legs spread as Jack crawled between them. Jack reached for the lube, set it beside Ethan’s thigh, and wiggled a throw pillow beneath Ethan’s hips. And then― Ethan tipped his head back, groaning and cursing. Jack’s mouth was hot, his moves slow and just sloppy enough to be almost scandalous. Salacious, even. His was the only cock Jack had ever sucked, and that made his soul shiver. He’d thought Jack blowing him would be a rare occurrence. Would be something that maybe he’d miss, but he would do without for his love of Jack. He’d long lost count of how many times Jack had sucked him, swallowed him whole. God, Jack sucked him with that perfect combination of hot and sweet, sloppy and tender. Like it was his first time, every single time. Or like he really, truly enjoyed it, enjoyed making Ethan’s thighs clench and quiver.

His legs trembled, lines of fire racing through him. How was he this lucky? How was this his life? And then, Jack’s finger, already slick, slid past his balls. God, yes. Ethan lifted his leg, resting his foot gently on Jack’s shoulder. His toes curled, and then his foot, and he barely held back the quiver that jolted through him when Jack’s finger rubbed over his hole. He was warm, dizzy from too many sensations: the heat of the fire and the suction of Jack’s mouth, the press of Jack’s fingers against his entrance. The stretch. The thought of Jack, opening his body up― Jack had learned enough to know how to stretch and loosen, when to wait, and when to stroke. Ethan whimpered and fell back when Jack pressed his fingers deep, just behind his cock. With Jack, everything was like raw lightning. Or a forest fire, scorching heat moving in forceful waves through him. His body was blazing, making him shiver, and a part of him felt slick and messy and open, craving in a way that was almost primal. Needy. Jack was inside him, in a place where no other had been, and though he’d thought it would be invasive, would be something that spread him open too much, he almost couldn’t believe it wh...

Ethan swallowed. His hands fluttered down Jack’s arms, skipping over his skin. Rounded his elbows, his thumbs stroking over his biceps. Jack was sleek where Ethan was not, tanned skin soft and smooth unlike Ethan’s coarser skin, his scars, and his hair. “I’m not―” He grunted, his body still welcoming Jack within. “I’m not too…” How did he finish that thought? His words were fleeing him, his thoughts reduced to base desires and needs and fears. “Male?” Confusion tangled in Jack’s gaze for a moment. He blinked, and then it vanished, replaced by a hint of shock and then warm love. He leaned down, one hand stroking through Ethan’s hair as he bent Ethan in half, keeping them joined. “You’re wonderfully male,” he said, his voice rough-edged, too deep. “I could never confuse you for anything else, Ethan. You’re the man I fell in love with.” And then he started to move. Ethan gritted his teeth and stared up at Jack. Jack moved slowly, rocking thrusts turning into long, deep slides in and out. Ethan shivered and writhed until Jack pulled his legs over his own arms, opening Ethan up completely. Jack had his whole body, his whole soul, in his grasp, and moved reverently, as if worshipping ...

Jack kept a rolling pace, indolent in front of the fire, watching Ethan like he was trying to memorize him. Ethan’s gasps and moans, the breathless way Jack’s name fell from his lips… Jack’s eyes caught it all, and Ethan burned beneath the intensity of his stare. He was turned entirely inside out by it. Shifting, Jack bent Ethan a little bit more, enough so that they could tangle their lips together. Jack smiled down at him, eyes holding Ethan’s gaze, as he snapped his hips into Ethan, deeper than before. Faster. Until he had a rhythm going, until Ethan was panting, openmouthed and staring up at Jack as he trembled, his hands clenching around Jack’s shoulders. He hung on, rocking on Jack’s thrusts, held entirely in Jack’s embrace. He got one hand on his cock, and Jack cursed, almost faltering. His eyes blazed. “Love seeing you touch yourself,” Jack said, blushing as if it was an admission. “Love seeing you come. Seeing you fall apart.” “Fuck…” There was too much heat building everywhere, spreading through his body, and he was gasping against it, against the pressure. It all sharpened on one ragged inhale, and the world froze on Jack’s next thrust. Ethan’s body shattered, his org...

“All right,” Jack hissed the next morning. He propped himself up on his elbows, peering down at Ethan on their bed. “I think I’m sexed out.” “Oh, thank God.” Ethan exhaled, still shaking from their morning fumble and their latest orgasms. “That last one stung.” “I think I’m completely dry.” Chuckling, Jack tucked his face into Ethan’s neck, pressing a warm kiss to his skin. “He’s retreating. White flag is up.” Ethan laughed, and his hands stroked up and down Jack’s back, slow and gentle. “Was afraid I couldn’t keep up with you.” Jack snorted. “I’ll need all week to recover.” And then the light moment fled. It was Sunday. And Ethan was leaving. Ethan wrapped his arms around Jack, holding him close enough to feel Jack’s rough swallow through their pressed chests. “Five days,” Jack breathed. Ethan didn’t know if he was talking about...

At the turnoff to Dulles, Jack pulled back and reached into his coat. “I brought someone to drive back with me.” He pulled out the teddy bear. Ethan poked the bear’s curled earpiece. “Watch over him, okay?” He spoke to the bear. “He’s special. And you have a very special duty, protecting him while I’m gone.” Jack smiled, and then the SUV slowed down. Travelers milled outside the terminal, people lugging suitcases and hugging their loved ones goodbye. Reporters mingled at the entrance, photographers and cameramen who waited all day on Sundays just to be the first there, the one with the scoop, when Ethan arrived. They perked up at the blacked-out SUV rolling to the curb. The partition dropped. Scott looked back, grimacing. “I’ve got to stay with the president, Ethan. We’ve got chaser cars, but we’re running a low profile. So say your goodbyes and slip out quick.” Ethan nodded. Jack’s hand touched his cheek. He could say “I love you” a thousand times to Jack and it would never be enough. Not in a lifetime, and not in the next minute. He saw the same frustration in Jack’s eyes, the same pain, and instead of speaking, they pressed their foreheads together. “I’ll see you soon, love,” Jack breathed. Ethan couldn’t speak. He nodded and kissed Jack’s cheeks, his closed eyelids, and then his lips, lingering until the sob building in his chest threatened to burst free. Grabbing his duffel, Ethan shoved open the car door and jumped out, shutting it behind him before anyone could see ...

When he got in Wednesday morning, Ethan found a Post-It stuck to his computer monitor. See me immediately. Sighing, Ethan grabbed the note and headed to Shepherd’s office. “You called?” He held the note up, stuck to one finger. “Shut the door.” Shepherd was all business, sitting at his desk and waiting for Ethan to take a seat before he spoke. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what you’ve been up to these past few days. I knew Monday morning when the head of the FBI office called me, screaming about how I needed to bench you and strip you of your badge and gun.” Ethan stayed quiet. “I wanted to see how this would play out. What you guys would do. You had a real shot at ending this thing.” Shepherd tapped his desktop. “And you did. Well done.” Stunned, Ethan blinked at his supervisor. “Sir?” “You refused to take the easy way out, Reichenbach. You kept doing your job. Kept showing up. Kept being an agent.” Shepherd shrugged. “I was wrong about you.” Ethan’s jaw dropped. Shepherd cleared his throat. “That FBI head called me back. Said he’s got an opening on his JTTF team and wants to offer it to this office.” He squinted. “You want to restart your career? You probably can’t run an investigation in your own name, but you can do everything else. Run intel and counterintel. Work with the others. Chase terrorists. Go after the big fish again.” One hand waved over his desk and out his windows to the bullpen of agents. “Not be stuck here working financial crimes.” Stunned, Eth...

Was that what he wanted? Where did he want to put his effort? His devotion? Was rebuilding his career really―truly―what he wanted? At the cost of losing time―irreplaceable time―with Jack? Financial crimes wasn’t sexy, but it was stable. He had his daily hours. His routine. And every Friday, he was on the way to Jack. That, more than anything else, mattered to him. He licked his lips and cleared his throat before he spoke. “I think,” he said slowly, “there’s a better agent suited to that position.” Shepherd’s eyebrows rose. “You wanna give this to Becker?” “He’s a good kid. This is where he wants to grow. And it’s a great opportunity. Becker should get the job, sir.” “I don’t have another babysitter for you in the office. You’ll be working alone after this.” Ethan smiled. The rest of his colleagues were older than he was, agents on the way to retirement. No one who needed mentorship, or guidance, or a hand to show them the ropes. He heard what Shepherd said, between his caustic words. “That’s all right. I’m good on my own.” “All right.” Shepherd tapped his desk again. “I’ll let him know. Oh, and―” He stood, sighing like he was tired and no amount of sleep would help with that. “I’m giving you the rest of the week off. You’re out of vacation, but take this as comp time. You did good on this case. You deserve a few days. I don’t want to see you until Monday.”

Shepherd couldn’t be serious. There had to be a catch. “Sir, do you expect me to remain on recall for the―” “Get the hell out of here, Reichenbach! I expect you to be on the way to the airport soon!” “Yes, sir.” He hesitated at the door. “Thank you, Shepherd.” Shepherd waved him away. Ethan made record time logging out of his workstation and heading out, zooming back to his apartment. He threw some clothes into his duffel, grabbed his cell phone charger, and barreled out the door. On the way to the airport, his phone rang. It was Becker. “What’s up?” “Hey, where are you? I’ve been looking for you.” “Heading out of town. Shepherd gave me some comp days. I’m on the way to the airport.” “Shit.” Becker grunted. “Well, I guess I’ll tell you over the phone, then. He just promoted me.” Becker sounded amazed, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “He reassigned me to the JTTF. Can you believe that?” “Congratulations, man. You deserve it. I’m happy for you.” “Fucking amazing.” He could hear the smile in Becker’s voice. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come out for drinks with Ellie and me, but…” Becker trailed off. “Sorry. On the way to DC.” “Sure. Yeah. I, uh. I start on Mond...

He paid for his ticket to DC at the counter and made his way through security before any media showed up. He waited at the coffee shop, tapping his foot as he sipped his latte and nodded to his federal shadow, who arrived thirty minutes later, wide-eyed and surprised. A fresh cup of coffee was waiting for his shadow at the counter. Finally, just before boarding began, he pulled out his phone and texted Jack. [Can you talk?] Give me a minute. His phone rang. “Hey, love.” “Hey.” Jack sounded ragged, like he hadn’t slept at all. “What’s up?” “I’m on my way. I’m coming to DC. Shepherd gave me some time off, so I’m coming out there.” “What…” The call for boarding started, and Ethan hefted his duffel. “I don’t want you to have to write those letters to the families alone, Jack. I’m coming out there for you. I want to be with you for this.” He passed his ticket to the boarding agent and headed down the ramp onto the plane. He’d bought a coach ticket, not first class, and he made his way to the back. “Is that all right?” “Ethan…” Jack sounded breathless, shocked and pilloried, but wonder ran through his tone. “Ethan―” His voice choked off, and he coughed, clearing his throat....