enemies of the state (26 page)

It is working, Ethan. It is so working.

He couldn’t text after that, and he was caught between choking up, falling in love, and needing to come. He’d ended up in his bed in a mess, jerking off and trying not to cry and hoping, desperately, for this to keep going.

They still worked out together in the mornings, but instead of Ethan slipping off to shower in the Secret Service locker room, he smuggled in his suits in his gym bag and showered after Jack did in his bathroom. They downed breakfast shakes together, too, in Jack’s private kitchen in the Residence. Jack chopped fruit and vegetables as Ethan measured out the protein powder and the soy milk. It was simple, and domestic, and they spent most of the time joking around.

Jack, naturally, sent Ethan’s world spinning higher one morning after their workouts, doing nothing more than being himself. Jack was slicing strawberries, and he sent Ethan a sly, surreptitious glance before motioning to the protein powder on the counter.

“Can you grab that?”

Ethan did as asked, leaning in, and Jack flicked strawberry juice at Ethan’s workout shirt, and then swiped his juicy hand across Ethan’s chest.

Shocked, Ethan stepped back, staring at Jack.

“Oops.” Jack grinned. “Guess you’ll have to take that off now. Don’t want it to stain.”

“I don’t care about stains.” Ethan tried—and failed—to smother his own smile.

Jack pushed out his bottom lip.

Slowly, Ethan peeled his gym shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. He was sweaty from their workout, and the cool air of the kitchen had his nipples pinched hard as the sweat evaporated off his skin.

Jack’s eyes darkened. The fruit was forgotten. He moved to Ethan, who was standing motionless with his back to the sink, and his hands rose, lightly tracing Ethan’s ribs before flattening across his abs.

Ethan gasped but stayed still. His knuckles went white where he gripped the counter behind him. Panting breaths escaped his lips as his body trembled.

Jack moved carefully, his eyes tracing the path of his hands, mesmerized by Ethan’s chest. His fingers spread across Ethan’s skin, sliding through his chest hair before hitting a nipple. Ethan grunted and closed his eyes.

They flew open again when Jack licked his nipple.

“Jack…” he gasped, knees buckling.

Jack’s hands continued to roam, squeezing his pecs, pinching his nipples, and tracing the lines of his ribs. Jack was breathing hard and biting his lip. He grabbed Ethan’s waist as he leaned close, nuzzling Ethan’s face before he pressed a lingering kiss to Ethan’s open mouth.

Ethan thought he was going to break the counter in his shaking grasp. He finally let go and cradled Jack’s face, even though he was almost trembling to pieces.

As they kissed, Jack’s erection slid against Ethan’s, hot and heavy and raging hard. Ethan whimpered and broke away.

Jack pressed a kiss to his temple. “The more I fall for you, the more attracted I am to you,” Jack whispered. “I can’t get enough of you, Ethan.”

Ethan had jerked off furiously in Jack’s shower later that morning, almost blacking out when he came.

They made out a few nights later, stretched out on the couch and slowly peeling off layers. For the first time, they let their bodies rock and roll together, their hard cocks—encased in boxers and suit pants—slide against one another. It was kisses and bare chests and heavy petting, and hickeys left on collarbones, and nipples being sucked, but they kept their pants on. Jack’s eyes smoldered when Ethan rolled him over and kissed his belly, or when he held Jack’s thigh next to his ribs as he rocked his cock against Jack’s.

But Jack’s eyes burned, brilliant and heated, when Ethan was on his back and Jack was between his legs, his hands roaming over Ethan’s body, or gripping his knees and spreading them wide, or kissing Ethan with open eyes as he thrust against him.

Ethan filed that away and let Jack roll him over.

A playful text from Jack upped the tension one Thursday afternoon. Ethan was meeting with the team leads of the presidential detail, reviewing procedures and problems and answering questions from the leads.

So you’re considered a bear, right?

The text had flashed across his screen, and his phone had been out on the table in the Mess, where he was chatting with the other agents. He palmed his phone and slid it into his pocket, coughing. One of the agents who had caught the message, but didn’t understand the caller ID, smothered his grin.

Later, Ethan texted back.

[Where did you learn that?]

I’ve been doing some research online. You are a bear, right? I’m using that correctly?

[OMG.]

[Are you searching gay sex terms on the White House network?]

No, I’m searching for male on male sex on the White House network. I found bears, and they look like you. I like it.

Jesus Christ. You’re watching porn?

It was my lunch break. I was doing research, but then I thought…why not just watch the real deal?

[…]

[First, gay porn isn’t quite the real deal. There are a few more steps they gloss over. And second… Goddamn, the thought of you watching that…or doing research.]

☺ You’re way hotter than the guys online. Don’t worry.

[You know you can ask me anything. I want you to be comfortable.]

And I want to know what I’m doing with you.

Want to make you happy.

[You do. ☺ And yes, I am a bear. I’m glad you like bears.]

There’s one bear I really like. More than all the others.

He’s the sexiest.

[… He’s about to split his pants.]

Maybe we can take care of that later.

They masturbated in front of each other that night, kneeling on Jack’s bed with their boxers pulled down and kissing slowly, in time with their strokes. Jack’s hand stroked Ethan’s chest, and Ethan squeezed Jack’s hips but held back from dragging him close.

It was the first time Jack had seen Ethan’s naked body. His heart leapt to his throat, grinding through ten different kinds of anxiety as they watched each other, stroking. He had kept his cock covered around Jack, always keeping his boxers on or a towel around his waist after showering and while getting ready. There was a big difference between being shirtless and petting and being confronted with an actual cock, hard and desperate and aching for touch.

Jack had been more than courteous about his space, giving him privacy in the giant bathroom made for two while Ethan dressed.

Jack changed the rules on that, too, later that week.

Ethan had just finished brushing his teeth when Jack walked into the bathroom. Jack was already dressed, dark suit pants impeccably pressed, white dress shirt starched and crisp, and a red tie knotted perfectly at his neck. He leaned back against the bathroom counter, arms crossed, and watched Ethan.

Nervousness stole through Ethan, and he kept stealing glances Jack’s way. “See something you like?” he finally grunted.

Jack nodded silently. He stepped forward and reached for Ethan’s towel.

Ethan stayed still. He watched Jack, but Jack’s eyes were on his own hands, slowly tugging open Ethan’s towel. Jack let it drop to the floor without a word.

And then, Ethan was fully naked in front of Jack, and Jack’s gaze. The warm air of the bathroom, still humid, tickled the backs of his thighs, but it was Jack’s eyes roaming over his body that seared his soul. Long, lingering looks traveled up Ethan’s legs and over his chest before dropping down to his groin.

He couldn’t help it. Ethan’s cock hardened, filling and rising as Jack watched him.

Jack bit his lip and grinned. His burning eyes finally met Ethan’s.

“Can I touch you?” Jack’s voice was too low and rumbled over his words.

“Please,” Ethan breathed. His brain caught up to his need. “But only if you’re sure,” he grunted.
Please be sure!

“I am.” Jack moved close, his eyes locked on Ethan’s cock. He reached for Ethan, his hand trembling. “What do I do?” Jack whispered. His fingers ghosted over Ethan’s shaft. Brushed the tip of his cock.

“Anything,” Ethan moaned. He shuddered and barely held back from grabbing Jack’s shoulders to stay upright. “It’s like touching yourself. Just do what you like.”

Jack grasped his cock in a firm fist, one thumb stroking over his cock head, and started a slow, pumping rhythm. Ethan moaned again and then panted. He shuddered as Jack kept stroking him, pumping him up and down. Jack’s gaze seemed torn between Ethan’s hard cock sliding through his fist and Ethan’s face, contorting in aching pleasure beneath Jack’s touch.

“Faster,” Ethan breathed. Jack squeezed as he sped up, and Ethan bucked, grabbed Jack’s shoulder, and exploded. He came all over Jack’s hand, spurting come in rivulets that ran between Jack’s fingers and soaked his palm.

Jack stared at him, openmouthed, and then at his come-drenched hand.

“Are you okay?” Ethan gasped.
God, please, don’t let this be the end. Don’t let this be the moment he decides he can’t take it
.

Reaching, Jack grabbed Ethan and hauled him close. His clean hand wrapped around Ethan’s neck, and drew him in for a wet, openmouthed kiss. Tongues dueling, Jack moaned into their kiss as he reached for his belt.

Ethan batted his hands away and backed him up until he hit the bathroom counter. “Jack,” he grunted, in between sucking Jack’s lip into his mouth and licking his tongue. “You sure?”

“Yes! Touch me! Ethan, please!”

He had Jack’s pants undone in a moment, and then Jack’s hard cock was out, dripping with precome. He should have just jerked him off, like Jack had done, but Ethan had been dreaming of this moment for months. He fell to his knees, groaning, and nuzzled Jack’s cock. The scent, the hot muskiness of Jack, hit him full blast, and he felt his cock stirring again between his legs.

Jack let out a breathy, moan-filled scream as Ethan swallowed him down. His hands fumbled behind him, knocking down toothpaste and deodorant and searching for something to grab onto before he reached for Ethan. His come-wet thumb stroked over Ethan’s cheek, over the hollow of his sucking.

When Jack blew, deep in Ethan’s throat, Ethan reached between his legs and stroked himself off again, grunting and whining and swallowing. He came for the second time on the bathroom floor, a puddle of come between his knees.

Boneless, Jack sank down to his knees, his perfect pants ruined, shirt disheveled, tie stretched and loosened.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan grunted. His voice was rough and catching. Cock roughened. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Shut up,” Jack breathed, “and kiss me, Ethan.”

Jack groaned into their kiss, almost falling into Ethan, and Ethan’s arms wound around him, holding tight. It was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Jack surprised Ethan with a hand job in the kitchen after their morning workout the week after, and Ethan barely had time to set down his shake before Jack was down his pants, his hand wrapped around his cock. Jack kissed him, sucking on his tongue as he jerked him fast, and Ethan spread his feet, grabbed Jack’s shoulders, and prepared to come.

“Mr. President, we got word from the Hill that—” Gottschalk stopped dead in the kitchen doorway, his mouth hanging open.

Jack whirled around as Ethan tore away from him, ducking down and nearly falling to the floor.

“Jeff!” Jack’s eyes were wide, panicked. “Jesus, Jeff!”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll wait outside.” Stunned, Gottschalk disappeared in a daze, his jaw still unhinged.

Later, Gottschalk came back into the kitchen, but this time, Ethan was sitting at the small dining table, and Jack was standing far away from him. Gottschalk stared at them both. “I didn’t see anything,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, there was nothing to see.” He grinned, self-deprecating. “Though, I will knock when I see a closed door from now on.”

“Thank you, Jeff.” Gratitude poured from Jack’s voice. “This is…new. And special.”

“And secret.” Gottschalk nodded. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Gottschalk sent Ethan a quick, short smile as he slipped out of the kitchen, after he’d briefed Jack on the status of legislation they were watching. It had just left committee in the middle of the night and was headed for a controversial floor vote.

They weren’t keeping their relationship as secret as they’d originally planned. Besides Gottschalk, the stewards had to know. Ethan spent more nights at the White House than he did at his condo. Suits of his hung next to Jack’s, and he had a toothbrush, deodorant, and a razor in Jack’s bathroom. They tried to sneak around in the early morning, pretending that Ethan hadn’t just woken up in Jack’s bed, but there was only so much they could do.

“I’m not the first president to have a secret love affair,” Jack had said.

“With a man?” Ethan chuckled and stole a carrot from Jack’s dinner plate.

“Some historians say Lincoln had male lovers.” Jack swatted the back of Ethan’s hand with his fork. “We will be fine.”

If they were being lazy in the Residence, Ethan made up for it with the Secret Service. He slipped in and out of the Residence using secret passages and the underground tunnel, and Collard covered for him with made-up reasons whenever an agent caught him wandering around after hours. After Ethan had spent seven straight days at the White House, Collard started moving his SUV so no one would notice that he hadn’t ever left.

At night, they’d read briefing papers spread out on Jack’s bed, discussing the day and planning for the next. They would laugh and steal glances at the other when they thought they wouldn’t be caught, and reach for one another for a handhold, or a long, lazy kiss. When the lights went out, Ethan pulled Jack close, burying his face in the back of Jack’s neck. They started in boxers and undershirts, and then it was just boxers and bare chests, and warm skin against warm skin.

They’d woken up slowly the past Sunday in each other’s arms, hard erections straining their boxers as they rolled together, slow thrusts building as their kisses grew. Ethan gathered Jack in his arms, stroking his cheeks as he kissed him deep, and then rolled over, bringing Jack on top of him. Just a little bit more, and then maybe they’d roll apart and masturbate in front of each other.