"Thanks." Jackson grinned, stepping closer to Steve. Steve looked up, staring into Jackson's beautiful brown eyes. Doe eyes, he'd heard that description before. He never understood what that meant until he'd met Jackson. Such beautiful, deep brown eyes, like looking into the soul of heaven itself. Steve loved looking into those eyes; he could lose himself in those eyes.
Jackson stepped closer still, until their bodies brushed gently together with each breath they took.
"You…" Jackson began, hands raising slightly. The loud jangling of the telephone interrupted them.
"Oh." Steve jumped and gave a nervous giggle. "That's probably my mom. She won't stop calling until she talks to me." He stepped back into the hallway, giving an anxious smile and blushing furiously as he went.
"You go ahead and shower. Come down when you're ready while I start supper. No rush." Steve whirled and fled down the stairs, trying to grab the phone before the answering machine kicked in and his mom said something embarrassing in the message that Jackson would no doubt hear. Steve wasn't the most alert person when woken up, so his phone and answering machine were loud enough to wake the dead. He'd have to remember to turn down the volume while Jackson was here, otherwise the poor guy would get woken up at all hours of the day and night. Steve's parents didn't pay attention to the whole time difference thing.
Steve grabbed the phone just before the answering machine picked up.
"So is he there?" his mom asked without the usual prelude chatter.
"Mom," Steve whined, feeling like he was twelve years old again.
He tossed his suit coat onto the couch and walked into the kitchen, the phone cradled in the crook of his neck as he fended off his mother's questions as best he could while he cooked dinner.
By the time Jackson came down, the linguine in clam sauce with a microgreen salad and honey vinaigrette was almost ready and Steve's mom was safely diverted, for the time being at least.
"That was quick." Steve grinned, stirring the noodles and waiting for the muscles to pop open before plating. "Sorry, forgot to mention that there's not a lot of hot water here."
"No prob. Woke me up, which is exactly what I needed."
"At least you're a good sport about it. Whenever my parents visit my mom shrieks like a harpy. She says she always forgets, but I think she enjoys the shrieking."
Jackson laughed softly.
Steve startled, bumping into the stove. "What?" he asked, turning to look at Jackson.
"You have flour on your ass." Jackson guffawed, his hands brushing against Steve's ass again as they dusted him off. "It's the perfect imprint of your hands on your ass."
"What?" A mortified Steve turned to look at his butt. Sure enough, he could just catch a glimpse of the flour handprints on his ass. It was a habit he'd picked up in the shop to wipe his hands on his apron or pants. Usually he didn't worry about it, as it hardly showed up on his flour-dusted uniform, but with his dark suit, it showed up in blaring contrast.
"Oh shit." Steve hastily untucked his shirt, pulling it down to hide his bubble butt as best he could.
"Here, you stir this and I'll run up and change real quick." Steve almost tossed the spoon at Jackson as he fled upstairs.
He could hear Jackson's amused chuckle follow him as he fled, but there was nothing else he could do. Steve had worked hard to lose those ten pounds, and he didn't want all that effort to be for naught the first day Jackson was there.
In his room, Steve grabbed his baggy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt that hung to mid-thigh. He knew it was too big on him, but all the better to hide his slight paunch and huge butt.
Steve galloped downstairs quickly. He needed to check on supper before it burned. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, brought up short by the sight of this man he'd been staring at through a computer for over a year, here in his very own kitchen.
Jackson was tall, taller than Steve's own five foot eleven, closer to six foot three. It was a good height for the man, made him look even more imposing, as if that were possible. His brown hair was cut short, and every time Steve saw it, it was neatly quaffed into perfect order, unlike Steve's own unruly, curly red hair. Jackson was built more like a runner, with long, taut muscles flexing beneath golden skin. To Steve, he was the perfect picture of masculine beauty. Long, straight nose, angular chin, and deep-set eyes, a little wider apart than usual, all set off the perfect package.
Good thing tomorrow was Christmas. Steve was looking forward to unwrapping his gift. The thought made Steve giggle like a kid and Jackson turned at the sound. He smiled a perplexed smile as he looked at Steve's sweatshirt curiously.
"Hey," he greeted cheerfully, stirring the noodles. "I don't think I've burnt it yet, but I'll let the expert take over before I set the place on fire.
"You're not that bad," Steve encouraged. "You just need practice."
"My practice consists of ordering takeout. Much easier on the body than trying to stomach the stuff I make."
Despite Jackson's protests, the linguine was perfect and Steve plated it with little sprigs of parsley and the salad on the side.
"That looks wonderful." Jackson sniffed appreciatively.
"Thanks." Steve grinned. "Sit and enjoy. Wine?"
"Well, since I don't have to drive, why not?" Jackson laughed. Steve poured a sweet white wine he'd been saving in the fridge for a special occasion before he sat down.
"Mmm, this tastes even better than it smells." Jackson nodded approvingly as he dug in.
Steve smiled, pleased that Jackson liked it. "There's more, so eat as much as you like."
"Oh, don't tempt me. You know what they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"Well, if that's true, I'll have to cook for you more often." Steve blushed and looked down at his plate.
Before Jackson could say anything more, Steve continued on. "So I've got lots of sightseeing planned for us. Christmas is tomorrow, so most everything is closed. And the twenty-sixth is sometimes just as bad as Black Friday, so we don't even want to pretend to go out then, but for the rest of your time, I was thinking about the aquarium, and the planetarium, and maybe a hockey game or something, if you'd like."
"That sounds good, but I want to see your bakery most of all. Ever since you told me you were a baker, I've been dying to see your shop."
"Really?" Steve asked, surprised.
"Yes, I'd love to see the place where you make your wonderful creations."
"Wow, no one's ever asked to see it before." Steve was too embarrassed to look up. He pushed linguine around on his plate, absurdly pleased with Jackson's words, but still too uncertain how to respond.
Jackson reached out and took Steve's hand in his own warm one from where it lay on the table. He clasped Steve's hand tight, his thumb tracing gentle circles over Steve's knuckles.
"How could anyone not want to see the place that makes you so happy? I've never seen anyone so happy when they talk about their work the way you are." Steve looked up, thrilled into speechlessness at Jackson's words.
"Besides, I need to check out my competition." Jackson gave a wicked grin and a wink.
Steve laughed. "Don't worry, there's no competition. I love food, but I'm in love with you." Steve bit his lip, mortified by what he'd said. While it was true, he'd had no intention of telling Jackson, especially not on the man's first day in his home. How embarrassing. Steve could feel the nuclear blush engulfing his face and closed his eyes, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him down.
Jackson squeezed Steve's hand, hard.
"Hey," Jackson said softly, causing Steve to glance up and then look quickly away again.
"Hey," Jackson repeated louder. When Steve glanced up again, Jackson grabbed his chin, holding him firmly so he couldn't pull away.
"The feeling is, without a doubt, mutual. I think I was in love with you the first time I saw you blush on that very first Skype. Even through the screen I could see you were someone special, someone worth getting to know. Did you know I bought new computer screens three times, just so I could see you better?"
"Really?" Steve couldn't help the happy grin that popped out.
"Really. Every time I heard about a better screen or higher resolution, I had to get it. I wanted to see you better, closer, more realistically than before. My friends thought I was nuts, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to reach through that screen and touch you."
"That's cool," Steve replied, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "The guys in the bakery could always tell when I missed our Skype. They said I was grumpy the whole week until I could talk to you again. I know we texted a lot in between, but that wasn't the same as seeing you, even if it was just through a computer screen."
Steve hesitated, embarrassed. But he wanted Jackson to know him, to understand how much Jackson meant to him.
"Did you know Sunday was my big masturbation evening?" Steve pulled away, unable to keep eye contact with such an embarrassing confession, no matter how truthful it was. "Just thinking about talking to you had me half-hard all day. By the time our Skype was over Sunday evening, I was hard enough to break boulders. And thinking about you and imagining your voice whispering in my ear had me shooting so hard I could have parted the Red Sea."
Jackson snorted and grinned at Steve as he shared the joke. "Same for me. I was so tired Monday mornings that I would often wish I could stay in bed all day, imagining you beside me. You've been my jerk-off fantasy since our first face-to-face."
"You're not disappointed?" Steve had to ask, even though he was afraid of the answer.
"Disappointed in what?" Jackson queried, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Well, you're so handsome. You could have any guy you wanted. I'm not exactly…"
"You're perfect just the way you are." Jackson's voice was firm, resolute with his belief. He pulled Steve's chin again, forcing Steve to look at him.
"But I'm fat. And I've got a huge butt."
Jackson had the temerity to laugh. "Is that why you're wearing the clothes from the Jolly Green Giant?"
"Well, I didn't want to frighten you off. You've never seen how big it really is." Steve glanced away, embarrassed by the turn in the conversation.
"Honey, I hate to tell you, but I've seen your gorgeous ass many times. How many times have you gotten up and turned your back to the computer to get your tea? It was the highlight of my conversations with you every time you got up and I got an eyeful of that beautiful ass of yours. If I could have reached though the screen and kissed that perfect bubble butt, I would have. Trust me when I say that your beautiful ass has featured in many, many midnight fantasies. I was so happy to see you in person and when you were climbing up the stairs in front of me, I nearly came in my jeans. Your ass is the most perfect ass I've ever seen."
Steve harrumphed, uncomfortable with the compliment.
"And at least to once a month," Jackson pressed. "I'm the happy witness to a wet T-shirt display when you spill your drink on yourself. Seeing your body framed in those wet clothes, well I'll tell you that's the highlight of my month. You're beautiful, just the way you are, honey. I wish you could see it too. Is that the reason you joined the gym?" Jackson looked like a light had just clicked on in his head.
"Well, yeah. I wanted to look good for you."
"Honey, you look perfect. I love you just the way you are. But I enjoyed hearing about your adventures turning the gym to the dark-chocolate side. Made me want to be here, tasting your brownies instead of some guy named Jim. I was so jealous of him."
Steve grinned happily at that. Thinking that Jackson could be jealous of someone else sent his heart racing in his chest.
"Do you really think I look okay? Even though I'm fat?"
"Honey, you're not fat. You're perfect. You're healthy and you work hard. There's nothing wrong with the way you look. I think you're beautiful."
Steve bit his lip, hesitating. He didn't want to sound needy and whiny, but he had to know.
"Then why didn't you kiss me at the airport?" Steve's voice cracked as he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Jackson smiled, leaning closer to Steve until there was only a breath between their lips.
"I wanted to. The moment I saw you I wanted to throw you up against the nearest wall and ravish you until we both screamed."
"Then why didn't you?" Steve almost pleaded. The thought of Jackson ravaging him had Steve so hard he saw spots floating before his eyes.
"I didn't want our first kiss to be in the airport in front of prying eyes. I wanted to savour your taste and your smile all to myself." Jackson smiled wryly. "Corny I know, but there it is."
"It's not corny," Steve breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from Jackson's. "It's romantic and perfect."
Jackson leaned forward, capturing Steve's lips in a soft, tender kiss that quickly escalated to a passionate flame. Dinner and wine were soon forgotten as Steve pulled Jackson's body away from the table and pressed himself full length against the hot male form he'd been fantasizing about for over a year.