Assumption of Desire

1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
and beyond the intent of either the author or the
publisher.

Assumption of Desire
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2012 by Elizabeth Brooks
Cover illustration by Alessia Brio
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-689-5
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever except as provided by the U.S.
Copyright Law. For information address Torquere
Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: March 2012
Printed in the USA

Assumption of Desire

2

"Hi! I'm Jesse!"
The pronouncement had come from Craig's right,

issued from the full lips of a perky blond twink wearing
eyeliner, a shirt so tight it might have been painted on,
and -- God help him -- a pink feather boa. The twink
was grinning at him, his wide blue eyes lingering on
Craig's sculpted arms. "You're new."

Craig snorted. Craig had come into the Cerulean

Sphere an hour earlier, following a stack of favorable
online reviews and amusement at the name. In that time,
he'd already been cruised by at least six men. One of
them had been downright sleazy, two had been hoping
for fresher meat, and the other three had failed to capture
Craig's interest. He'd turned all of them away, but he
thought he'd call any one of them back (well, except the
sleaze) before he hooked up with this kid. "Know every

queer in town, do you?"

"All of 'em that come here," Jesse answered. "So, are

you new to town, or new to the scene?" For pity's sake,
the boy actually had a slight affected lisp. He was a
walking stereotype.

"Town," Craig admitted. "Here on business for a few

weeks."

"Perfect," the twink said, running his fingers through

his carefully-groomed, artfully-mussed, dirty-blond hair.

Craig turned pointedly back to the bar and his beer.
Jesse didn't get the message. He turned toward Craig

and leaned against the bar, his lithe body bending in
ways that Craig was pretty sure a spine was not meant to
allow. One hand petted that ridiculous boa. In the
mirror behind the bar, Craig watched Jesse checking him
out. One of the few good things about spending a lot of
time on the road was having plenty of time to work out
in the hotel gym. Craig was no linebacker, but he was in
pretty good shape. Once Jesse had looked his fill, he
caught Craig's gaze in the mirror, Jesse's bright blue
eyes striking sparks against Craig's dark hazel. "You
wanna go in the back? You look like a man who could
use a blow job."

Craig rolled his eyes. He didn't consider himself

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3

particularly picky, but he'd encountered this type before:
self-absorbed, vain, and outwardly assertive. Jesse was
likely a prima donna and a drama queen, obsessed with
sex but too focused on his own pleasure to actually be
any good, and too empty-headed to have any redeeming
qualities outside of the bedroom. This flashy, pushy,
shallow boy was everything Craig was definitely not
interested in. "Are you even legal?"

"Twenty-one, next week!" Jesse chirped cheerfully.

"So, how about it?"

"If you're not twenty-one yet, how'd you get into the

bar?"

"Owen knows me. He was dating my mom when I

came out." Jesse waved offhandedly at the bartender,
who nodded back.

Craig blinked, distracted. "Dating your mom? He's

straight?"

"Pretty much, yeah, but he's cool. Couple of the

waitresses are, too. Emma says she came to work at the
Sphere because she was sick of getting hit on all the
time at the straight bars -- we get lezzies in here, but
apparently they actually know how to take a 'no' -- and
Tracy is a total fag hag." Jesse giggled. "So, how about
that B. J.?"

Craig groaned inwardly. "You seem nice," he tried,

"but I'm just not sure it's going to work."

"What's to work?" Jesse asked, his lips pursed. "I'm

not asking you to move in. Just come out back and let
me blow you."

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Nothing personal.

You're just not my type."

Jesse pouted. Craig could have predicted that. He

pouted very prettily, almost well enough to make Craig
regret not finding out if those lips were talented in other
ways. But Jesse wasn't quite obnoxious enough to keep
pushing after a flat refusal. "Your loss," he said. Jesse
sulked briefly before he straightened up and slid onto
the bar stool, waving for Owen, the straight bartender.
Craig couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Jess," Owen said as he approached. "Are you

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4

harassing my customers again?"

Jesse giggled again. God, what an annoying sound. "I

am one of your customers, Owen," he said. "I want a
strawberry daiquiri. With lots and lots of rum."

"For the two millionth time," Owen said with good-

natured tolerance, "I'm not losing my liquor license
because you can't wait another week."

Jesse huffed out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Virgin,

then. Even though I'm not. But I want two of those little
umbrellas!"

"Less I know about your sex life, the better," Owen

returned. "If you brought me that package from Molly,
you can have a whole box of the damn umbrellas."

"Oh my God, I almost forgot!" Jesse laughed and

dove under the bar railing for his backpack. Craig
couldn't help glancing over at it. It did not surprise him

in the slightest to learn that it was bright lavender and
liberally decorated with pink triangles and rainbows.
Jesse opened it and pulled out a heavy armload of
books, which he thumped onto the bar. From the bottom
he withdrew a rather battered-looking cloth bag, which
he handed to Owen. "I stole a bunch of the watermelon
ones already," Jesse confessed, "but there's a hundred or
so left."

Owen mock-sighed and upended the bag over a large

silver bowl on the counter. Out spilled dozens of
brightly-colored condoms, many of them marked with a

picture to indicate their flavor. Owen handed the empty
bag back to Jesse, then went to the other end of the bar
to make the boy's drink.

Almost immediately, half a dozen people swarmed

the bar to grab a handful of latex. A tall, black drag
queen paused to tease Jesse about the need for extra-
large condoms and a lesbian couple emerged from the
shadows to paw through the bowl in a fruitless search
for a dental dam. Jesse traded cheery insults with the
queen and promised the girls that he'd pass on their
request to the leader of the student GLBT union that had
apparently taken on the mission of keeping the bar's
condom supplies stocked.

Assumption of Desire

5

Jesse leaned back on his stool to re-load the books in

his backpack. It was a student's eclectic collection: an
economics textbook that may never have been cracked, a
well-used spiral-bound notebook with a predictably
sparkly cover, an art history textbook studded with
sticky-notes, and something that looked suspiciously
like a bodice-ripper romance except that the cover
sported two half-naked men. Jesse caught Craig looking
and grinned. "I admit, I only read it for the smutty
parts," he confided.

Craig chuckled despite himself. "I should hope so."
Owen returned with Jesse's virgin daiquiri, the wide

glass festooned with no fewer than six little paper
umbrellas. Jesse squealed with delight and began trying
to figure out how to attach them to his ridiculous feather
boa.

Craig watched him for a moment and suddenly

realized that his crotch was beginning to feel warm and
tight. Apparently, the twink was not entirely out of the
realm of possibility. It's just one night, Craig reassured
his better sense. Not even one night -- just a quick blow
job in the back room. As much as the boy talked, his
mouth had to be talented, right?

Still, Craig hesitated a moment before he could bring

himself to say, "Is that offer still open?"

Jesse slanted him a sideways look, those full lips

slanting mischievously. "Thought I wasn't your type?"

Craig didn't have a good answer for that so he just

shrugged. "Yeah, but I'd hate for you to let those
watermelon condoms go to waste."

Jesse looked at him directly, then nodded. "Yeah,

okay. Come on." He slid off his stool and nearly
disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the press
with expert ease. Craig was hard-pressed to keep up, but
he couldn't object to being the one doing the following --
Jesse's ass in those painted-on jeans was a powerful
incentive to keep moving.

He spotted the back room door before they got there

as it opened to admit a flushed and disheveled couple.
His prick throbbed in response to the sight, swelling and

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straining against its confines.

But just as Jesse had reached the door and Craig was

about to catch up, another man swooped in from one
side, putting a hand on Jesse's arm and speaking in a
low, urgent voice. Jesse whirled around, his lined eyes
searching the crowd and then following the other man's
pointing arm up into the balcony overlooking the dance
floor. Jesse said something -- Craig caught only the
word "bitch" -- and turned to find the stairs.

"Hang on," Craig protested. "What's going on?"
Jesse’s expression was completely serious, even a bit

cold and angry. For the first time, Craig actually
believed that Jesse was older than seventeen. "I'm
sorry," Jesse said, "but a crying best friend trumps blow
jobs with a stranger, even one as hot as you." He turned
his attention back up to the balcony, and Craig followed

his glance to spot a thin, blond girl at one of the tables
by the railing, head pillowed on her arm, shoulders
shaking with sobs. "Come back another night; maybe I'll
see you again."

Jesse was gone before Craig even had a chance to

respond. He watched in surprise as Jesse made his way
up the stairs and knelt down beside his friend, pulling
her gently into his arms.

Craig stared at them for several long minutes, waiting

for his thoughts to sort themselves out. The bubble-
headed, pink-boa'd, little twink apparently went to

school, volunteered for the student GLBT union, and
was man enough to put his friends' welfare before his
own. Craig had to admit, he was beginning to be
intrigued.

***

Craig came back the next night, and the next. He told

himself it was because the Sphere's all-inclusive
atmosphere let him truly relax without having to
maintain the professional fictions that were part and
parcel of his job -- and if he happened to have an eye out
for a certain blue-eyed twink, well, that was only to be

Assumption of Desire

7

expected, wasn't it? After all, Jesse was one of the few
people Craig had met in this town, except for the
straights at the office he'd been sent here to audit.

But Jesse didn't put in an appearance either night.

Craig was a little surprised -- Jesse had struck him as a
party boy, always ready to be the center of attention.

He mentioned it, offhand, to the bartender, Owen.

"That kid I met the other night -- he come in here
often?"

"Weekends," Owen admitted, "he's here most nights.

But during the week, he's got a job. And there's the
schoolwork, of course."

"Of course," Craig agreed, trying to pretend his

interest was nothing more than casual curiosity.

Owen smirked at him, as if to say he knew very well

what Craig's interest was. "Friday night," he said. "He'll

be back for certain on Friday. Oh, but if you've no other
plans Thursday, we have a karaoke night that's worth the
cover charge. Half the proceeds go to the local
outreach."

Craig couldn't think of much that appealed to him

less than a bar's karaoke night, unless it was a gay bar's
karaoke night -- an entire room full of drunk divas and
drama queens warbling out-of-tune show tunes? No,
thanks. But to be polite, he smiled and nodded and told
Owen he'd keep it in mind.

He stayed in the next two nights and discovered

exactly what was worse than gay karaoke night: the
television in his hotel room was on some kind of
governor that made it turn itself off after twenty minutes
of inactivity -- which made it fine for channel surfing or

setting as background noise to fall asleep to, but was
maddening when he was actually trying to watch a
show. Worse, whenever he turned it back on, it
automatically reset the station to the hotel's in-house
service menu, losing his channel. He complained to the
hotel management, but got nowhere. By Thursday, he
was way ahead on his work, and the thought of another
night of random channel-surfing was mind-bogglingly
boring.

Assumption of Desire

8

Anyway, it couldn't be but so bad, he rationalized,

changing into a T-shirt and running a comb through
shower-damp hair. The divas were bound to boo the
really bad singers right off the stage, right?

When Craig got to the Sphere, however, he

discovered there was more going on than simply
karaoke night. No fewer than six tables had been pushed
together in one corner, and they'd been liberally
festooned with streamers and balloons. Half the balloons
were long and phallic, though a few over the women's
chairs had been cleverly twisted into yoni. Holding court
over one end of the tables, fully decked out in sequins
and feathers and glitter was -- of course -- Jesse.

Craig's stomach lurched as he recognized the boy, but

he walked up to the bar and put the party at his back.
"Special occasion, eh?" he said when Owen came over

with his beer.

"Sure," Owen said affably. "Wasn't sure if they were

planning to come in at all, but I guess this is HQ
tonight."

Craig nursed his beer and listened to the karaoke. It

could've been worse -- it wasn't all show tunes, and one
of the lesbian couples had this fantastically funny
Madonna/Brittney act going that they obviously
rehearsed in their spare time. Jesse's party slowly got
more and more raucous as they drank and sang and
cheered each other on. Jesse's cheeks were rosy, and
there was a manic twinkle in his eyes.

A different friend appeared at the bar for each round

of drinks. Good-naturedly, Owen put a paper umbrella

and a maraschino cherry in each of Jesse's bright pink
drinks, and the party kept getting louder. After the fifth
or sixth round, Craig found himself frowning. "Aren't
you the slightest bit worried about all that?" he finally
demanded. "I know earning a hangover is part of the
tradition, but he's just a kid. If he drinks much more, it'll
put him in the hospital!"

Owen didn't take offense. He winked and brought

Craig a second bottle, then leaned on the counter to wipe
it down and muttered, "I actually cut them back after the

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third round -- they're all getting drinks at about a quarter
strength, and half of his don't have alcohol at all. Just
enough to keep them buzzed, give them an excuse to act
silly and drunk without actually doing too much harm.
Young as they are, half of 'em won't even have
hangovers tomorrow."

Craig blinked in surprise, then grinned. "You're all

right," he said, admiring.

Owen shrugged, his lips twisting wryly. "It was

Jesse's idea, actually. He set it up with me while his
friends were decorating."

A twenty-one-year-old who admitted to having

limits? Unheard of. Craig made this observation to
Owen, and added, "He must be one in a million."

"Well, I'm biased. Jesse's... Not quite like my own

kid, but maybe like my nephew. I knew him before he

came out--"

"He told me you'd dated his mom," Craig supplied.
The bartender nodded. "She had a hard time dealing

with it, right at first. Especially since I don't think she'd
let herself realize that he was getting old enough to think
about sex at all, you know? So she had to deal with that
and the notion that he was gay all at the same time."

"But she came around?" Craig couldn't have said why

he felt so concerned for the boy, but he found himself
feeling anxious and protective. He'd had too many
friends with nightmarish coming out stories, knew too
many broken families and hearts.

"Oh, sure," Owen said easily. "It just took her some

little while. And in the meantime, I sort of took him

under my wing. Brought him in here with me a few
times so he could kind of realize that he wasn't alone
with it, you know?"

Craig grinned. "And his mom was okay with that?

Really?"

Owen chuckled and refilled the pretzel bowl. "There

might've been a few discussions about exactly how out
of my mind I was to take her young, impressionable boy
into a bar, of all places, and introduce him to God-
knows-what depraved sorts. But I told her, Ginny, I said,

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my customers may be bent, but they're not twisted. And
far better he ask his questions of the ones who know the
answers, and do it where I can keep an eye on him,
quiet-like. Won't say she was happy about it, but
however silly he acts, he's always had a pretty solid head
on his shoulders, so she eventually gave in."

Craig was about to ask another question when he felt

a body slide up to the bar beside him. Jesse smelled like
strawberries and salt, a combination that inexplicably
made Craig's mouth water. "Owen, can you call a cab
for Donnie and Kevin? I think they're about ready to
abandon me for better company."

"Sure thing." Owen went down the bar and picked up

the phone.

"And what better company could there be?" Craig

asked, forcefully light.

"Their own, of course," Jesse laughed and gave Craig

a warm smile. The tips of his hair had been dyed pink
and purple for the occasion. "Have you been sitting over
here for long? Why didn't you come join the party?"

"Not too long," Craig lied. "It looks like a private

party."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jesse teased, grabbing Craig's

hand and tugging him playfully across the floor toward
the balloons and streamers.

Craig protested, but let himself be pulled along. He

wound up seated next to the petite blond girl that Jesse
had abandoned Craig to rescue at their first meeting.

Her name was Shannon, and when Craig mentioned

that night, she groaned dramatically and threw her hands
over her face. "Oh, God, that was so horrible," she
moaned, apparently under the impression that Craig
knew a good deal more about the situation than he did.
"And now she's telling all kinds of lies about me! No

one will ever want to date me again!"

Jesse swooped in and hugged her. "Oh, sweetie, if I

were straight, I'd date you!"

Shannon smiled wanly. "If you were a lesbian, I'd

date you, too," she promised. Jesse kissed her cheek and
fluttered off to talk to another guest demanding his

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attention.

"I've known him since forever," Shannon confided,

her gaze lingering on her friend as he opened a gift. "He
was the one who gave me the courage to come out to my
parents."

On the other side of the party's alcove, Jesse held up

the gift, a pair of falsies from one of the more
outrageous drag queens. Everyone laughed as he held
them up to his chest to model them. "He's full of
surprises," Craig murmured, unaware that he was
speaking aloud until he caught the sharp, thoughtful
glance Shannon shot his way.

Not much later, it was Carver, an unassuming,

unaffected man (unlike most of Jesse's friends), who
began to insist that Jesse submit to a birthday spanking.
Jesse laughed and protested, but his eyes grew brighter

at every additional voice that joined in the demand.

After much giggling negotiation (and a quick head-

count) it was decided that each guest present would be
allowed to deliver one spank to the birthday boy.

"But wait," Shannon protested, grinning, "that's only

eighteen! Who'll finish him off?"

Some ribald heckling accompanied her choice of

words, along with a chorus of volunteers.

"Now hang on," Craig heard himself interject. "It's

his birthday. Maybe Jesse should get to pick who gives
him those last few smacks. After he's had a chance to

sample everyone's efforts."

The suggestion was afforded a wild round of

whistling and stamping that handily drowned out all
other ideas.

Jesse crowed, "I like the way you think, handsome!

Just for that, you can be first!" Jesse threaded the crowd
to stand before Craig and then turned, thrusting his tight,
round bottom out toward Craig. He looked back over his
shoulder, blue eyes sparkling like a summer afternoon as
his friends whistled and cheered.

Lust uncurled low in Craig's belly, hot and intense.

The noise faded into a background hum. Craig met
Jesse's eyes and found a similar hunger lurking behind

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the mischievous grin.

Craig reached out and laid his hand on Jesse's ass,

feeling its curve, the firmness of the muscle, the soft
divot that marked the transition from glute to thigh.
Jesse's mouth parted and his eyes fluttered closed, and
the wanting squirmed in Craig's innards. He needed
more from Jesse than the quick blow job that had been
offered at their first meeting. Quite contrary to his initial
assumption, Craig realized this boy would be amazing in
bed: responsive and vocal and wanton. He wanted to
explore every inch of Jesse's body and discover its
secrets. He wanted to dissolve Jesse's affectations in
sheer ecstasy and reveal the real man hidden underneath,
to fulfill the promise of that blissful expression.

"Hey!" someone shouted, laughing. "It's a spanking,

not a groping!"

"Damn it, Matthew!" Jesse pouted. "I was enjoying

that!"

Craig grinned, at the last moment remembering that

these were Jesse's friends and trying to control his
predatory instincts. "Just getting the lay of the land," he
said.

"Honey, I am the lay of the land!" Jesse giggled, to

general merriment.

Craig lifted his hand -- Jesse was watching him again

-- and dropped a quick, sharp smack on the meatiest
curve of the boy's right buttock.

Jesse jumped and squealed, though Craig had a

notion that was mostly show for the others' benefit.

Craig gave the spot a quick rub and squeeze. The look
Jesse gave him was smoldering. "There's one," he
announced. "Who's next?"

Jesse flirted and played with each friend in turn, even

the girls and the couple of straight men, and they all
played back. But in between each, Jesse's gaze
invariably sought Craig's. Craig met each look, letting
Jesse read his desire, and then he watched the friends, on
guard against jealousy or possessiveness.

By the time Jesse had completed his tour of the

group, the conclusion was foregone, to Craig and

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everyone else. No one even feigned surprise when Jesse
pranced back and cocked his hip in Craig's direction.
"All warmed up for you," Jesse teased. "Ready to
deliver those last three?"

Craig captured Jesse's hand and drew him closer,

ignoring the others' catcalls. "Since it's three," he purred,
"let's have you down." Jesse's eyes widened and dilated,
and Craig barely contained the roar of triumph that his
libido demanded. Instead, he pulled Jesse's hand again,
urging the younger man to lie across his lap.

Craig's cock was hard, and he was sure Jesse could

feel it against his hip. But Craig didn't mind, because
Jesse's own erection was pressed into Craig's thigh.
Craig put his hand on Jesse's bottom again, squeezing
and kneading. Jesse wriggled, grinding both their pricks
between their bodies. "Eyes closed," Craig murmured,

and though he couldn't see Jesse's face, he knew from
the way the squirming stilled that he had obeyed.

Craig took his time, smoothing his hand over Jesse's

ass and feeling the radiating heat after each sharp smack,
reveling in the way Jesse's cock throbbed against his
thigh.

With the first, Jesse let out another of his show-off

shouts. On the second, it trailed off with Craig's stroking
and squeezing into a breathy moan. And on the third, the
boy seemed to have forgotten his audience entirely. His
ass lifted to meet Craig's hand, and his noise was a
naked whimper of desire as his hips gyrated.

"Oh, God," Craig heard someone whisper thickly

nearby, and only then realized that Jesse's friends had
fallen silent, frozen by the heat of the scene before them.
The air was heavy with arousal.

On his lap, Jesse was recovering from that twenty-

first spank, coming to himself and beginning to shift his
weight to stand up. Craig found the soft, sensitive swell
at the very base of his ass and laid down a sharp crack.
Jesse made a noise somewhere between outrage and
ecstasy, his hips jerking so violently that Craig
wondered if the boy had creamed his jeans. "One to
grow on," he announced, thrusting against Jesse's leg

Assumption of Desire

14

once to let him know there wasn't much growing left to
do.

When Jesse finally rose, his eyes were glazed, his lips

parted and already slightly swollen. His friends seemed
to breathe a collective sigh, and suddenly they were all
recalling work in the morning or some late-evening
business, gathering their things and going up to the bar
to close their tabs.

Craig and Jesse barely spoke as they left, heading by

unvoiced agreement back to Craig's hotel.

By the time Craig had locked the door behind them,

Jesse had recovered somewhat, no longer seeming so
dazed. "I'm not usually into spanking and stuff," he
admitted as he took off his jacket and toed off his shoes,
"but that was totally hot."

Part of Craig was pleased to know that the occasion

had reason to be memorable. "Very hot," he agreed. He
sat on the side of the bed and hooked his fingers through
Jesse's belt loops to pull him close. He began to
unbutton the jeans. "You're fucking hot."

Jesse grinned and stripped off the sequined shirt,

dropping it unheeded to the floor. "I'm especially hot
when I'm fucking," he quipped, watching as Craig
unzipped his jeans.

Once again, Craig was overwhelmed with the desire

to drown Jesse in sensation until his glib manner melted
away. He growled and mouthed Jesse's bare stomach,
deliberately scraping the soft, nearly hairless skin with
his day's growth of beard.

Jesse shivered and gasped. "Oh, God," he breathed.

"God, yes, more."

The jeans were too tight to simply push down. Craig

yanked sharply until Jesse fell onto the bed, then began
to peel the brightly decorated denim down Jesse's legs.
Jesse lay back, stretching his arms out luxuriously,
lifting his hips and feet as directed, but otherwise not
helping. "You always this much of a prima donna?"

Craig asked, halfway between annoyed and amused.

"Only on my birthday," Jesse answered, lips curving

smugly. "Don't worry, my ass is worth a little work."

Assumption of Desire

15

"Confident, aren't you? Is that what you want? A

good pounding?"

"God, yes. Don't you?"
Craig's cock pulsed at the thought. "Just making sure

we're on the same page." One last savage yank freed
Jesse's legs of those jeans. Craig dropped them, already
forgotten as he looked down at the naked man stretched
out on the bed. Without the glitter-and-glam clothes,
Jesse looked older and more mature, his frame still
slight but toned, and not at all boyish. Only a lingering
trace of purple eyeliner suggested the teasing twink from
the Sphere. "Holy Hell," Craig breathed. "You're
beautiful."

Jesse actually flushed at the compliment. "So are

you," he said. "But you're way overdressed for this
party."

Craig snorted and stripped off his T-shirt, then

unbuckled his belt. Jesse sat up to help Craig with his
jeans, though they weren't nearly as difficult to remove
as his own had been. As Craig’s prick sprang free of his
clothes, Jesse made an approving murmur, and ducked
forward to lick the head, bathing it with his tongue while
Craig gripped his shoulder and watched, panting.

"Mmm," Jesse sighed. He slanted a look upward and

smiled as he caught Craig's eye. "You like to watch?"

"Yeah." Craig's voice was husky with need.
Jesse grinned and turned Craig until he was standing

with his left side facing the hotel mirror, then knelt on
the floor to swallow his cock.

"Oh, God." Craig glanced into the mirror and said it

again. "Oh, God." Jesse had tipped his head just enough
to meet Craig's gaze in the mirror, those blue eyes hot
like the flame at the base of a match. A whimper
escaped Craig's throat as Jesse began to move, his eyes
never leaving Craig's face. Craig's gaze flickered back
and forth between Jesse's face and the sight of those full
lips stretched and sliding over Craig's prick.

Shivers of lightning cascaded down Craig's limbs and

pooled in his extremities. His balls began to draw up and
Craig hissed in a breath--

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16

Jesse released him and stood up, smirking at the

suddenly bereft look on Craig's face. "Pounding," he
reminded Craig with a giggle. "You got stuff?"

Craig shuddered until his near-orgasm had receded

enough for him to move and nodded. He never traveled
without lube -- even when he didn't manage to get lucky
at a local bar, it made masturbating so much better. He
dug into the nightstand drawer and found the tube and a
couple of condoms, then wordlessly tugged Jesse back
to the bed.

Jesse obligingly rolled onto his knees, folding his

arms around a pillow and pushing his ass up into the air.
"Too bad there’s no mirror over the headboard," Jesse
said. "You could watch yourself fucking me."

Craig barely registered the words, absorbed with the

gorgeous picture before him. Jesse's ass was every bit as

perfect as Craig had guessed it would be -- round and
firm, and still just a bit pink and splotchy from the
spanking. Craig's cock twitched at the reminder, and
Craig laid his hand over the darker patch, feeling the
heat radiating out.

Jesse flinched and then leaned into the touch,

moaning with pleasure. "Oh, God, please," he begged.

"God does not pound pretty boys into the mattress,"

Craig said, trying for a severe tone even though he felt
anything but. "Say my name." Had he ever given Jesse
his name? "Say 'Craig'," he temporized.

"Craig," Jesse moaned. "Craig, please."
Craig poured lube into his hand and rubbed it

between his fingers until it was warm, then slipped his
fingers into Jesse's crack, slowly parting it to reveal his
hole. "Say my name," he insisted.

"Craig," Jesse whimpered, trying to thrust backward

onto Craig's fingers. "In me, Craig, put your fingers in
me." His hole was flexing as Jesse tried to draw him in.

Craig added more lube and pressed a fingertip against

Jesse's hole, carefully not inserting it. "Stop," he said.
"Stop trying. Just let me."

"God, then get on with it!" Jesse pleaded, and his hips

stopped their fruitless gyrating. "Craig, please, I want it

Assumption of Desire

17

so bad!"

Smiling, Craig slipped his index finger in. Jesse's

body was hot like a furnace and so tight that despite his
enthusiasm, Craig knew he'd have to take it slow to
avoid hurting him. But Jesse had other ideas. He cursed
with what sounded like both relief and frustration and
pushed back onto Craig's hand, driving the finger
deeper.

Craig crooked his finger slightly and Jesse gasped.

"Oh, go-- Craig," he groaned, "that's so fucking
amazing. Do it again."

Craig did, and then he added a second finger. When

Jesse's body had loosened to accept them both, Craig
began to fuck Jesse with them, sliding them in and out
and twisting his wrist, and Jesse all but danced with his
hips, trying to make Craig move faster and deeper and

more urgently.

The third finger went in even easier. Jesse canted his

hips and thrust back just as Craig pushed forward, and
Craig felt a small bump with his middle finger and Jesse
whimpered and drove back again for more.

Craig put his free hand on Jesse's back and stayed

where he was for a moment, watching Jesse fuck
himself on Craig's fingers. God, he'd been so right about
Jesse's responsiveness and enthusiasm.

When he withdrew his fingers, Jesse whimpered and

cursed, his hips shifting restlessly. "That had better
mean what I hope it means," Jesse said in a petulant tone
that Craig just knew meant he was pouting.

Craig tossed the empty condom wrapper onto the

pillow where Jesse could see it and rolled the latex down
over his cock. (Unflavored and colorless, but it hardly
mattered at this stage.) He knelt between Jesse's thighs
and gripped those pumping hips in his hands.

Jesse's moan as Craig slid home was so loud it

approached a scream. Craig would have laughed if he
wasn't already on the verge of blowing his wad, but as it
was, he had to clench his hands hard enough to leave
bruises and count backwards from a hundred by sevens
until the roaring in his ears had subsided.

Assumption of Desire

18

When he moved, it was in short, sharp thrusts that

made Jesse gasp with each one. Craig shifted his
position a few times until one of his thrusts nailed
Jesse's prostate. Then he began to drive in earnest,
withdrawing right out to the bulge of his head and then
slamming back into Jesse's welcoming ass. Craig’s
hand, still slick with lube, made its way around to close
on Jesse's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Jesse lasted under this onslaught for only a few

moments before his groans turned into desperate
keening. "Craig!" he wailed, "God, Craig, oh God, oh
God, oh Craig, damn it, I can't hold out much longer, oh
God oh God oh Craig oh Go--!" Jesse's body convulsed
spectacularly, and then hot spunk was pouring over
Craig's hand. That magnificent ass was clamping down
on Craig's prick and fighting his movement in the very

best ways, and Craig's balls were so tight they hurt, and
then Craig's orgasm was on him like a summer
blockbuster explosion.

Afterward, Craig tied off the condom and dropped it

into the wastebasket. He collapsed back into the bed to
gasp and pant some more, and Jesse rolled onto his side
and stretched luxuriously.

"That was incredible," Jesse said happily. "I'm not

going to be able to walk tomorrow, never mind sit
down."

"You asked for it," Craig reminded him.
"Oh, I know. Best birthday celebration ever." Jesse

yawned and flipped the pillow over, fluffing it before he
put his head back down. "All those drinks are catching

up with me, though. I'm so sleepy! Um." He opened his
eyes, uncertain. "Unless I should be going?"

Craig sighed. "Don't get attached," he warned,

"because I'm on a plane for home Tuesday morning. But
I'm not quite enough of a heartless bastard to kick you
out of bed like that. You're more than welcome to stay
the night. Even the weekend, if you want." Craig's cock
twitched a little at the thought, though part of him
wondered what the hell he was doing.

Of course Jesse would get attached. However well-

Assumption of Desire

19

grounded Jesse was for a college kid, he was still a kid.
But part of Craig was already attached to Jesse, he had
to admit. Jesse was smart and considerate and -- no
sense denying it -- ridiculously hot in bed, and Craig
couldn't seem to help but try to draw out their time
together, however short. He's been warned. I'm not
telling him any lies. Even if their parting stung a little, it
would be a sweet memory for years to come.

Jesse smiled. "Thanks," he said, yawning again and

letting those summer-sky eyes drift shut. "And don't
worry about me. I was just after a blow job, remember?"

Craig let Jesse's assurances soothe both his worries

and his conscience, and fell asleep.

***

Three years later.

Craig sat in his rental car in the parking lot, staring at

the unassuming office building with loathing. He had to
get out of this line of work. When he'd started, ten years
ago, he'd loved doing audits. Hunting down
inconsistencies had fed the predator in him, and he'd felt
like he was helping the offices improve. The near-
constant travel had been exciting, too, always something
to do or see, always someone new to meet -- or fuck.

Five years ago, as he'd completed more and more

repeat audits, he'd realized that most offices were
reverting to their old systems as soon as he'd gone; that
his efforts, far from being helpful, were considered a
trial to be endured. That had been disheartening, but he'd
still loved the travel and the people.

But lately, even that had begun to pall. The generic

hotel rooms were a blur of uncomfortable beds and
grainy televisions and cheaply-built furniture that made

him long for his tiny apartment. The local attractions --
museums and festivals and natural wonders -- all looked
the same to his jaded eyes. And the people only irritated
him with their false camaraderie. Even the sex had
grown boring.

It was the sex that had opened Craig's eyes to the true

Assumption of Desire

20

problem, in fact. He'd been delving into kinks that had
never used to excite him, searching fruitlessly for the
missing thrill. It had been at a BDSM club that he'd
finally found it, though not in the way he'd expected:
he'd been in the bar, scoping the available meat, when
his eye had happened to fall on a couple in a dark
corner, sub kneeling at the Dom's feet. It wasn't an
unusual sight, and as they obviously weren't looking for
a third to play, Craig would normally have just moved
on. But at that moment, the sub had gazed up at the
Dom, and their eyes had met with a welling of pure love.
The Dom's hand had touched the sub's hair with tender
affection, and Craig had been stunned into tears: it
wasn't excitement he wanted, after all. He'd merely been
using the excitement of the unknown to ease the ache of
loneliness.

Craig wanted to go home. He wanted the time to

make a home, to have friends he could rely on, and most
of all, a lover he could call his own, someone to come
home to each night. Since having that revelation, he'd
felt paralyzed. He'd stopped going to clubs entirely, and
it had been almost a year since the last time he'd gotten
laid.

He sighed and shook his head. Dwelling on his

dissatisfactions was not going to get this job done. He
took a deep breath and picked up the file from where
he'd tossed it on the passenger's seat. He could barely
remember where he was any more, but it wouldn't do to
walk into the office flaunting his apathy and ignorance.
Danvers Corporation, the file told him. Hadn't he been

here before...? Craig flipped back through the pages of
the file until he found it: three years ago.

A memory tickled the back of his brain: wasn't this

where he'd had that marvelous weekend with that
flaming blond twink? What was his name, again? Jamie?
Jerry?

It probably wasn't important. The kid had been in

school, after all, and by now had certainly moved on to
bigger and better things. The Cerulean Sphere had been
a great bar, though. Craig thought about paying it a visit,

Assumption of Desire

21

but knew he wouldn't. He shrugged and got out of the
car, stuffing the file into his briefcase as he strode across
the parking lot.

The receptionist was the sort of well-groomed,

middle-aged woman who reeked of competence and
efficiency. She greeted him with professional cheer,
produced a temporary badge, and escorted him to the
conference room that would be his office for the next
couple of weeks. "You'll be working most closely with
Mr. Summers," she said. "As soon as you're settled, I'll
take you up to meet--"

"No need, Mrs. Walsingham," said a familiar voice.

"I'm right here."

Craig turned from the task of setting up his laptop,

ready to renew his acquaintance with the office's
manager -- and froze in shock. Jesse.

Jesse was frozen, too, and Craig found himself

staring. Jesse's shoulders and chest had filled out some;
though he was still slight of build, he had lost the
waifish look that had made him look so ridiculously
young. The skin-tight clothes and feather boa were gone,
replaced with a perfectly respectable (if immaculately
coordinated) shirt and tie. The hair was still blond, of
course, but the shaggy student's mop had been styled
into a neat, businesslike cut. The eyeliner was gone as
well, but Jesse's eyes, those brilliant summer-sky eyes,
were exactly as Craig remembered them.

Jesse recovered first, squaring his shoulders and

holding out a hand. "Jesse Summers," he introduced
himself, as if they'd never met.

Craig gave himself a mental shake and completed the

handshake. "Craig Wilson," he returned. Jesse's grip was
warm and firm and not at all swishy. Unbidden, the
memory unrolled in Craig's mind of that same hand
gripping Craig's cock, stroking with the perfect pressure
as a finger teased at his asshole...

Flushing, Craig released Jesse's hand and turned back

to boot up his computer. "I think we can take it from
here," Jesse told the receptionist. "We'll buzz if we need
anything."

Assumption of Desire

22

"Thank you, Mr. Summers," she said. "Nice to meet

you, Mr. Wilson." The door closed as she left.

In Craig's peripheral vision, Jesse dropped into a

chair with a whumph! and a sigh.

Craig looked over and couldn't resist checking Jesse's

hands. His right pinky had a wide silver band with an
inlaid pink triangle. The fingers of his left hand were
bare. Craig took a breath. "Are we pretending it never
happened?" he asked softly.

Jesse looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked. "Is that

what you want?"

"You're the one who introduced yourself."
Jesse's smirk hadn't changed at all in three years. "We

never got around to last names before."

True enough, or Craig might have recognized it in the

files. He sat, willing his laptop to hurry through its load

so he could retreat into work. "How've you been?" He
winced inwardly; could this possibly get any more
awkward and lame?

"Good." Jesse's tone was bland and neutral, and Craig

couldn't quite bring himself to look into those blue eyes
to see what was hiding there. Was it hope? Anger and
betrayal? Lust? "And you?"

"Fine," Craig answered automatically.
Jesse smiled wryly, as if he knew Craig was anything

but fine. "Is this as weird for you as it is for me?"

"A little," Craig admitted. "Look, I'm just here to do a

job. Can we stick to that, please?"

Jesse didn't flinch, didn't move at all, but Craig

thought he could feel the younger man retreating.
"Sure," Jesse said coolly. He gestured toward Craig's
laptop. "Where would you like to start?"

***

A dozen times over the next week, Craig wanted to

take back that request. He ached to apologize to Jesse
for having made him into a disposable lover before, and
for ignoring that past between them now. But Jesse had
thrown himself fully into the all-business role that Craig

Assumption of Desire

23

had asked for, and every time Craig opened his mouth to
say something unrelated to the audit, something about
them, he found himself cowed by the ice in Jesse's blue
eyes.

Maybe away from the office, he thought, without the

work to use as a wall between them, he'd have more
luck. So, late Friday afternoon, as they were winding up
for the day, Craig decided to suggest that they get dinner
together. "This looks like a good stopping point for the
week," he began.

"Great," Jesse said. "See you Monday, then." And

before Craig could even open his mouth to protest, Jesse
was gone.

Craig paced his hotel room for the better part of an

hour, his thoughts a crazy whirl. Why was he letting
Jesse get under his skin like this? On the few previous

occasions that he'd re-encountered a past lover, he'd
hoped desperately for just such a neutral reception. But
all week, Jesse had been intelligent and responsible, and
in his interactions with his co-workers (if not Craig
himself), he'd been polite, charming, and even funny.
This Jesse was someone worth knowing, and Craig felt
that they could be friends -- maybe even more -- if only
he could find a way to overcome his blunder.

Was he letting his cock drive again? He didn't think

so; Craig thought he might be satisfied with merely
melting the ice in Jesse's eyes and parting on amicable
terms. No, he decided, delectable though Jesse was,

Craig was still uninterested in only a brief fling. This
was something greater. This was an honest need to
apologize for a wrong he had committed.

Well, there was nothing in his hotel room to hold

Craig's interest, not even for the evening, never mind the
entire weekend. He could probably manage to track
Jesse down. And then, hopefully, make him listen.

Craig changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed

downtown. Even if Jesse didn't hang out at the Sphere
anymore, Craig hoped Owen might be there and be able
to give him a lead.

The club was crowded, even though it was still early.

Assumption of Desire

24

The bass thump of the dance music rattled the windows
as Craig approached and was nearly deafening when he
ducked through the door. Dozens of people were on the
dance floor, shaking off the work week with their
friends and lovers. Craig scanned the throng. Half the
men present, it seemed, were slender blonds, but none of
them carried themselves with half Jesse's confidence.

Craig was about to abandon the search and retreat to

the bar to see if Owen was working when the crowd
parted and he spotted Jesse sitting at a booth on the far
side of the room, talking earnestly with a young woman.
Shannon, Craig remembered, Jesse's best friend. He had
changed clothes too, trading the metrosexual business
look for skin-tight leather pants, a clingy black mesh
tank, and, of course, another damned pink boa. Craig
wanted to simultaneously whoop with joy and roll his

eyes. Just as Craig took a step forward, Jesse glanced up
and saw him and after an instant, turned quickly back to
his companion.

The crowd moved again and Craig lost sight of them,

but now he had a direction to move. Craig pushed
earnestly through the dancers, ignoring the coy
flirtations and dangerous scowls alike.

When he reached the booth, though, Jesse was gone.

Only Shannon remained... And the pink feather boa.

Shannon stared at him coolly. "You just missed him."
Of course she had stayed behind to delay him while

Jesse made his escape. "Nice to see you again," he said,
searching the room. "How've you been, these last
years?"

"Whatever you want, he's not interested," Shannon

said relentlessly. "You had your fun last time, but he's
not some fun-and-run college kid any more. Move on,
Wilson. There are plenty of boysluts out there for you to
get your jollies with."

Craig sighed heavily. "I just wanted to apologize," he

said, trying to load his words with the truth of his
sincerity.

"Sure," Shannon drawled. "That's why you waited all

week, then stalked him back here. God forbid you

Assumption of Desire

25

apologize, you know, in the quiet, mostly private office
you've been in for the last five days."

"I've been trying," Craig said. "He won't even let me

start!"

Shannon cocked her head, studying him. "And what

is it, exactly, that you'd be apologizing for?" she asked.
"He told me that last time, it was all above-board, a
mutually agreed-on, short-term fling."

"It was," Craig said firmly, though the memory was

simultaneously arousing and shaming. "I mean, I didn't
treat him very well then, either, but he was using me as
much as I was using him. I'm not proud of that, but it's
not what I'm here to apologize for."

"What, then?" Shannon leaned back in the booth,

toying with the straw in her drink.

"If you don't already know, why should I tell you?"

Shannon smiled. It was a bright, cheerful smile,

though it chilled Craig all the same. "Because I'm the
one who has his cell number," Shannon said. "And I'm
the one he always picks up for. Convince me of the
purity of your quest, and I might be persuaded to call
him for you."

Never let anyone tell you that lesbians aren't drama

queens. Somehow he managed to avoid rolling his eyes
as he dropped into the seat across from Shannon. "What
do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what happened. What you did that you need

to apologize for."

"Didn't he fill you in?"
Shannon shrugged, still with that predatory smile.

"Sure. But I wanna hear your version."

Craig grunted and wished he'd stopped at the bar for

a beer. "Largely, I didn't respect him," he said. His eyes
were on the scars and stains of the heavy wooden table
as he let his week of agonizing and analyzing and
pondering coalesce into coherence. "I wasn't expecting
to see him again. I think it was a surprise for him, too.
We should've just... Acknowledged the whimsy of

coincidence, or something, and laughed it off, and
moved on. But I guess I panicked, and I brushed it off

Assumption of Desire

26

completely. I didn't mean to. I just wanted some space to
process the shock. But I think it came out like I was
saying that it was something I didn't even want to
remember. That it was bad, or even that I was ashamed
of it. I didn't mean it that way, but that's what happened.
I knew right away that I'd screwed up, but every time I
tried to talk about it to him, he changed the subject or
shut me down." Craig looked up to find Shannon
watching him curiously, her head tipped and her lips
parted.

She smiled again when she saw him looking at her

and shook her head as if in disbelief. "Jesse can get
pigheaded about the strangest things," she admitted.
"Head on back to your hotel. I'll talk to him. I can't make
any promises, but... Give me your number."

It was the best lead he was likely to get without

resorting to more creepy, stalkerish behavior. Craig
scrawled his number on a cocktail napkin, and for good
measure, added the hotel name and his room number.
"Thank you," he said as he passed it to Shannon. "He's
lucky to have you."

Her smile grew playful, almost mischievous. "So are

you."

After the thumping din of the Sphere, Craig's hotel

room was deafeningly quiet. He turned on the TV for

noise, but it did nothing to still the anxious thudding in
his chest. He fished his phone out of his pocket as he sat
at the desk. No messages. He called the front desk, just
to be sure. No messages.

He stared at the TV, but it wasn't at all interesting. He

got up to retrieve the remote from where he'd left it on
the bed. There was nothing on. Sitcom, reality show,
reality show, sitcom, laughably-edited movie, reality
show, cooking show... Cooking shows were, arguably,
reality shows, he thought. Craig checked his phone
again. Nothing.

He went back to channel surfing. He paused on a

Mexican soap opera. He didn't speak a word of Spanish,
but the acting was so atrocious it wouldn't have mattered
if he'd been a native speaker. His leg was jiggling, so he

Assumption of Desire

27

got up to pace.

Half an hour passed, and then an hour. Discouraged,

Craig decided to turn in early. Maybe tomorrow, he
could try again, somehow. He was in the bathroom
taking a piss when his phone blared to life. Craig all but
sprayed the room, tripping over his own pants in haste.
Why the hell hadn't he brought the damn phone into the
bathroom with him?

"Hello?" He hoped he didn't sound too out of breath

or desperate.

"I'm in the lobby," said Jesse. His voice was not

precisely cold but neither was it warm. "You've got five
minutes."

"I'll be right down," Craig promised, hopping as he

tried to zip up his pants one-handed. "Don't leave.
Please!"

"Five minutes," Jesse repeated, and hung up.
Craig was still trying to figure out if that was a bad

sign, but then realized it meant he could put the phone
down and use both hands to tend to his clothing. He
yanked his jeans into order, washed his hands, and ran
for the elevator, smoothing his fingers through his hair
in a desperate bid for order.

Jesse was not waiting by the elevator bank but in the

artificially cozy cluster of elaborate chairs and sofas in
front of the main desk. He had recovered his boa and
was absently running the fluffy day-glo feathers through

his hands. The night clerk on duty was trying to pretend
not to stare, but as there was nothing else in the room
interesting enough to look at, she was not terribly
convincing.

"Jesse." Craig skidded to a halt just at the outskirts of

the furniture grouping.

Jesse looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Shannon

said I should let you speak your piece," he said. He was
almost, but not quite, pouting. "How'd you manage
that?"

"With the truth," Craig said.
"Highly overrated," Jesse sniffed, although Craig

thought that was more pouting rather than Jesse's actual

Assumption of Desire

28

belief. "All right, then, I'm listening."

This was it. Craig filled his lungs until they ached.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you or
marginalize you. You're smart, charming, kind, and
damned sexy, and I swear on my own grave that denying
you -- us -- that implying I was ashamed of our time
together was the furthest thing from my mind. I'd say
my words were poorly chosen, but they weren't really
chosen at all. I just panicked, and they burst through my
teeth like... Never mind; that metaphor is going to be
even worse out loud."

"Simile," Jesse corrected absently.
"Whatever. The point is that I was completely, one

hundred percent out of line. I should never have told you
it was a closed topic, and doing so was an asshat,
jerkface, fuckhead thing to do. And I'm sorry. I would

take it back if I could." Craig ground to a halt, panting.

Jesse's sky-blue eyes were grave. "And?" he said,

finally.

Craig shook his head. What more did he want?

"That's it."

Jesse looked back down at his boa. Craig wished he

could know what was going through his mind. At last,
Jesse stood. "Let's go outside," he murmured. "That poor
girl at the desk is going to lose a contact if her eyes get
any bigger."

There was a tiny strip of a garden separating the hotel

building from the parking garage. Jesse led them into the
dark green of it, and they found a bench at its center
with a charming view of the valets driving in and out of
the garage. "Why?" Jesse asked him. "Why did you

panic, if you're really sincere about not being ashamed?"

Craig had asked himself that same question a

thousand times over the last few days. "Obviously, I was
surprised to see you," he answered slowly, carefully
fitting the pieces together that he had studied for so
long. "Three years ago feels like half a lifetime to me,
now. Back then, I was only looking for a quick lay. And
I'm not ashamed of that, or of what we did, because I
think that's what you were looking for, too."

Assumption of Desire

29

"Well, yes," Jesse agreed.
"You really got under my skin, then, you know?"

Craig admitted. "We were so good together, for months
afterward, anytime I was with someone, I'd find myself
comparing them to you." In fact, he realized for the first
time, it had been that period which had started him down
the introspective road that to wanting a relationship with
more to it than a couple of orgasms. "What we had was
amazing, and only a complete idiot would try to deny it.

"But at the same time... I didn't want to go back there.

I've changed a lot, these last years. I want different
things, now. Better things."

Jesse stiffened. "Better things," he repeated flatly.
"Not like that!" Craig said quickly. "Not better than

you! Don't jump to conclusions again, okay? I'm not
judging, I swear. I just want more. Something long-term.

Something with moments that are about warmth and
comfort instead of the flames of passion. And seeing
you, recognizing you... It frightened me."

"Did you think I was going to drag you under the

conference table the instant poor Mrs. Walsingham left
the room?"

"No!" Craig paused. "Though that would've been

kind of hot." He shook his head, dragging himself back
to the topic by main force. "I think -- though there's no
way I could've explained it at the time -- I think I was
afraid that seeing you would... Reawaken the me I had
been, back then. That if I let myself remember too
clearly how good we'd been, then I'd want it back. And I
knew if that happened, then when I left again, it would
feel like a failure. I do want something long-term. I do
want love. But I have to admit, it's been a long time, and
I'm getting pretty horny. I didn't know if I had the
willpower to resist."

"I wasn't offering, this time," Jesse pointed out.

"Didn't it even occur to you that I might have changed
over three years, as well? That I might've been looking

for love instead of an anonymous suck in the back room
of a club?"

"I know, I know," Craig said. "But this all kind of

Assumption of Desire

30

went through my head in a flash. It's only as well-
ordered here because I've been thinking about it and
dissecting it. Anyway, it didn't really matter if you were
offering, or what you might've said if I'd offered,
because somehow, even just wanting to offer felt like a
failure of, I don't know, of character, or something."

"Idiot," Jesse said, though his tone had warmed

considerably. "You're allowed to want true love and hot
sex, you know. I'm not even sure it could be considered
true love if the sex wasn't hot."

Craig chuckled. The laugh released some of the

terrible tension that had been piling inside him, and he
laughed again. "You're probably right," he agreed. "But
at the time, you weren't being nearly so insightful--"

"Well, excuse me!" Craig could hear the grin in

Jesse's tone, and it warmed him.

"--and you were still right there in front of me, even

hotter than before--"

"Why, thank you!"
"--and so I just panicked, and slammed the door the

fastest way I could. I didn't stop to think about how it
would sound to you, or what it would imply about you. I
really am sorry for that." He glanced sideways at the
younger man. "You could've let me get my apology in
before now, though. Just sayin'."

Jesse's shoulders rippled in a complicated shrug. "I

jump to conclusions, sometimes," he admitted. "You'll

have noticed, I expect. And I can be a real bitch about it,
too." He was smiling, though, staring into the distance.
"Did you really mean it when you said you'd take it
back?"

"Absolutely."
"Okay."
"What?"
Jesse turned toward him on the bench, his lips

fighting a smirk as he offered Craig a hand. "Hi there,
you must be the auditor. I'm Jesse Summers."

Craig stared at him, then laughed, long and loud.

When it wound down, though, Jesse's hand was still
outstretched, his expression expectant. Craig schooled

Assumption of Desire

31

his features into a politely bland smile. "What, you don't
recognize me?" he returned. "It's only been three years."

Jesse pretended to give the matter some thought.

"Three years? Hmmm. Nope, not ringing a bell..."

Craig leaned in closer. "If that birthday spanking

wasn't memorable enough," he purred, "maybe I should
give it another try."

Even in the dark, Craig could see Jesse's face flame at

the memory. "Oh, that," he managed. "Nice to see you
again, Craig. How've you been?"

"Horny, mostly." Craig sighed melodramatically.

"Some scrawny twink with a pink feather boa
completely ruined other men for me."

"Scrawny!" Jesse complained.
"Yeah," Craig drawled, fighting a snort of laughter.

"It's weird, too, 'cause usually I like my men built more

like... Well, like you."

Jesse managed, somehow, to simultaneously preen

and flush. "Craig," he started, "are you--"

"Let me take you to dinner tomorrow," Craig

interrupted.

"What? Wait, are we still at our first meeting?"
"We never have met properly," Craig said, suddenly

serious. "We've fucked, and we've done the polite
colleague dance, but we've never really met. Come out
with me. We'll have dinner and go to a museum or a
gallery or something, somewhere that we can actually
talk and get to know each other."

Jesse looked away, suddenly uncertain. "You're

leaving in a week," he said. "And I'm not after an easy

fuck these days, either, any more than you are."

"Jesse." Craig waited until Jesse looked back at him,

then brushed his thumb lightly down Jesse's cheek. "I'm
not making promises," he said. "How can I, when we
haven't even tried getting to know each other? Maybe
we'll go out a few times and decide we're better off
friends. But if there's more there, if the spark between us
is more than sexual, we can explore that. There are
options. I travel a lot for my job, and I'm at a point
where I could exercise some influence over which jobs

Assumption of Desire

32

I'm assigned to. And this is a growing city. I could be
here pretty frequently. Hell, I could move here. As much
as I telecommute already, home office would barely
notice."

Jesse frowned. "Offering to move on the basis of a

relationship we don't even have is a little--"

"Stop with the conclusion jumping," Craig said. "I'm

not saying it's a done deal. I'm saying that my leaving
next week shouldn't have to be a deal breaker, if we
want to give each other a try. That there are options, if
we think we might be something worth pursuing. I'm not
making promises, not yet. I'm just saying, let me take
you out. Neither of us is going to ever find true love if
we don't at least give other people a chance, right?"

Jesse hesitated another moment, searching Craig's

face earnestly. Finally, he nodded. "All right," he

breathed. "Take me out tomorrow night. And we'll talk."

***

Eight months later.

"Happy birthday!" Jesse crowed, setting an only

slightly lopsided cake in front of Craig. "I hope you like
it. I made it myself!"

Craig paused in the act of reaching for a knife to cut

it. "All by yourself?" he asked. The only edible things

Jesse had ever made, in Craig's experience, were
reservations.

"Shannon supervised," Jesse admitted. "That bit

there, where the icing is all smeary, that's her fault."

The entire cake looked smeared to Craig. "I'm sure

it'll taste fine," he said diplomatically. "I really
appreciate the effort, sweetheart."

Jesse waved a nonchalant hand, but his cheeks pinked

a bit. He leaned closer, conspiratorially, though they
were alone in Craig's new condo. "You'll get your other
present later," he stage-whispered. "After the spanking."

Craig grinned and pulled Jesse into his lap. "Aw, and

here I was hoping you could get the spanking instead of
me..." He massaged the curve of Jesse's hip enticingly.

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33

"Not tonight!" Jesse said, though he leaned in to

capture a kiss, wriggling happily. "Tonight, your ass is
going to belong to me -- and in so many different ways."

Arousal hit Craig's system so hard he grunted with

the impact. "Yeah? Forget the cake! Let's go!" He tried
to stand up.

When he wanted to be stubborn, Jesse could, cat-like,

change his mass at will. He did not budge off Craig's
lap. "Cake first," he insisted.

Craig groaned and cut off a small slice with the

plastic knife.

"I want a corner piece," Jesse demanded. "A big

one."

"God," Craig complained, though he sliced the cake

as ordered. "What's wrong with this picture: given the
choice between sex and cake, you pick cake?"

"Sex?" Jesse said innocently. "Who said anything

about sex?"

"Jesse Gabriel Summers--"
"Mmm," Jesse moaned around his fork. "This turned

out even better than I'd hoped. Yummy! Try some!" He
speared another bite, but instead of eating it, began
sensuously licking off bits of frosting, watching Craig
from under his lashes.

Craig groaned. "You trying to make me pop before

we even get back to the bedroom? I'm an old man, now,

you know!"

"Pfft," Jesse scoffed. "Thirty-three isn't old." But he

dropped his fork and stood, finally. "Stand up and put
your hands on the table." His voice had acquired an iron
core that made Craig's stomach turn wobbly in the very
best way.

Only once before in their six months of serious dating

had Jesse turned top. Jesse had made some offhand
comment to Craig about how his smaller, thinner stature
led everyone to assume he was a dedicated bottom, and
Craig had blinked in utter surprise and said, "Aren't
you?" That had ended their date immediately, as Jesse
had dragged Craig back to his apartment to prove to him
how very un-bottom-like he could be, when he put his

Assumption of Desire

34

mind to it. Craig had bottomed before, but that night had
been, hands-down, one of the most incredible
experiences of Craig's life. Jesse on the bottom was fun-
loving, talkative, sensual, and expressive; Jesse topping
had been so serious and terse that Craig had feared he'd
done something wrong, and then somehow intent and
commanding and tender all at once. That night,
afterward, tangled in each others' arms, Jesse had
mentioned casually that he'd been looking around in the
time between Craig's visits and that he'd found a few
condos that he thought Craig might want to look at...

Remembering that night still made Craig hard.

Harder. Whatever. He did as Jesse had asked -- no,
ordered -- him to do. It had been a couple of years since
he'd played around with submission and domination, but
his feet still remembered the positions he'd been taught,

a little wider than shoulder-width apart and a good step
back from the table. He settled his hands on the smooth
wood of the table and spread his fingers so he'd be less
tempted to fist them. Heart hammering, he pushed his
ass out a little, and finally dared to glance at Jesse.

For an instant, Jesse looked electrified, his blue eyes

wide as saucers as he took in Craig's deliberate stance.
When he saw Craig looking, though, he smiled. "I like
that," he said softly. He trailed a hand over Craig's hip,
cupping his ass cheek and squeezing it as if testing its
ripeness. "Ready for your spanking?"

Craig nodded and shuddered with anticipation.

Despite Craig's usual feelings about play that involved
hitting or being struck, the spanking he'd given Jesse on

his twenty-first birthday had been intensely arousing.
He'd chalked that up to the beer and Jesse's obvious
enjoyment and the near-orgiastic circumstances, but here
he was, all but creaming his jeans for a spanking that
hadn't even started yet. Maybe it had something to do
with the company.

As small as he was, Jesse was strong. The first smack

stung sharply, and Craig jumped. "Count them," Jesse
said, and so Craig forced his breath back out on a shaky,
"One."

Assumption of Desire

35

"Two." Same spot.
"Three!" God, that smarted!
"Four!" It came out as a yelp.
"Five!" The pain was beginning to fade into a sort of

background hum, leaving Craig's ass cheek feeling
warm and swollen.

So, naturally, the little bastard changed sides. "Six,"

Craig hissed, clenching his teeth against the new sting.

"Eight" came out on a gasp that tried manfully to not

be a sob. Craig's voice broke on "Ten."

Jesse paused to cup his hands over Craig's backside.

Even that gentle massage rubbed rough cloth against the
newly-sensitive flesh, scraping in a way that was
somehow both painful and intensely erotic. Jesse leaned
against him; Craig could feel the press of Jesse's cock
through their clothes, and pushed back against it. One of

Jesse's hands reached around to grope at Craig's cock
through his jeans. His hips tilted and thrust, trying to get
more of the touch.

Wordless, Jesse unbuttoned Craig's jeans and worked

them down over his hips. "No underwear?" Jesse tsked.
"Naughty!"

Craig had been hoping he'd be getting laid too soon

to care about underwear. He grinned and shrugged his
response.

Smack! "Ow! Uh... Eleven," Craig panted. Jesse was

back to the first side. His hand on Craig's bare skin felt
good.

On twelve, the renewed sting faded back into the

building burn, and Craig's hips began to circle

involuntarily, seeking the next blow. Each of the next
three blows made Craig's cock jump, precome already
beading at the tip.

By the time the count got to twenty, Craig's eyes

were blurred with tears, but his cock was iron hard.
Jesse paused and ducked down under the table to lick
delicately all down Craig's length. "Ohhhoh!" Craig
groaned, not even caring that his voice was unsteady.

When the spanking resumed, Jesse was alternating

sides with each stroke, and Craig was all but begging for

Assumption of Desire

36

release. He stopped again at twenty-nine, though this
time Craig's sob was of need. "Come with me," Jesse
said. He waited patiently while Craig gathered himself
enough to stand, then took his hand and led him into the
bedroom. Jesse sat on the wide leather chair and patted
his lap, looking expectantly at Craig.

"Oh, God," Craig groaned, but he lay over Jesse's

legs, letting his ass push upward invitingly even as his
cock ground desperately against Jesse's thighs.

Jesse let out a soft sigh. "Look in the mirror," he said.

"Look at yourself, Craig."

Craig turned his head to look. What he could see of

his ass was bright red. He could nearly see the heat
radiating off it. Stretched over Jesse's lap, the muscles of
his legs and back were sharply defined, quivering and
straining. A low moan slid from Craig's throat, and he

met Jesse's eyes in the mirror. "Last four," Jesse
breathed. "Don't look away."

Craig swallowed. "I won't," he promised. He couldn't

have even if he'd wanted to. Jesse's summer-sky eyes
held his effortlessly even as he raised his hand and
brought it down, and again, and again. They were light
smacks, but his skin was already so sensitive that Craig's
whole body shook.

"Your ass is mine, Craig Wilson," Jesse said as he

delivered the next.

"Yes," Craig groaned.
Crack! The last spank reverberated through the room,

and Craig keened with twinned pain and desire. The
look on Jesse's face, oh God...

Jesse was touching his ass, rubbing it lightly, every

light contact an agony and an ecstasy. "I want to fuck
you," Jesse said. "Now."

Craig couldn't even speak his fervent agreement. He

slid from Jesse's lap, not caring that his legs were
trembling, and stumbled to the bed. The sheets were
scratchy and rough to his swollen skin, but every hint of
sensation only served to heighten his desire.

Jesse knelt between his legs and kissed him, tender

and hungry, and Craig wrapped his arms around the

Assumption of Desire

37

slender shoulders with a sigh. "How do you do this to
me?"

Jesse hummed thoughtfully as he mouthed a line

from Craig's jaw down to his collarbone. "Must be
love," he mumbled, and it was either the word or the
way Jesse's tongue scraped Craig's skin that made him
gasp and shiver.

Craig was frantic, and it seemed Jesse, too, was out

of patience for games. Before Craig could speak again,
Jesse had popped the cap on the lube and was working a
finger into Craig's hole. "So damned tight and hot,"
Jesse whispered roughly, "if my finger could come, it
would." He thrust it deeper, as if to make his point, and
deeper still, until Craig was twisting his hips and
whimpering for more.

The second finger went in faster, and Jesse obviously

remembered the best angle for nailing Craig's prostate,
because he found it quickly and began to bump it with a
blunt fingertip about every third thrust. "Oh, God,"
Craig groaned, "Jesse. Jesse, please, I need you in me. I
want you so bad. Please."

He shuddered at the sudden emptiness, and then Jesse

was with him again, his cock pressing insistently at his
opening. Craig opened his eyes and looked up into the
summer sky of Jesse's eyes, watching him, full of heat
and hunger and more. "Oh, God," Craig whispered,
weak under that gaze. "Jesse. God, Jesse. Do it now.
Now. I'm yours, Jesse, all yours, just get inside me
now!"

Jesse attacked Craig's mouth with a kiss just this side

of savage, but his cock eased home, slow and smooth,
until Craig felt Jesse's hips collide with his own. Jesse
moaned softly, tucking his head into the curve of Craig's
neck and shoulder. "So good," he whined. His hips
began to rock, not really thrusting yet, but the scraping
of his skin against Craig's sore behind made every
movement a new sensation.

"Fuck me," Craig begged.
Jesse laughed softly. "What do you think I'm doing,

here, taking up a knitting class?"

Assumption of Desire

38

Craig grunted and smacked Jesse's arm. Jesse giggled

and then began nailing Craig in earnest. His hand curled
around Craig's cock, stroking it hard. It wasn't long
before Craig felt his whole body tense up and pull
inward, as if he were trying to pull Jesse deeper, so deep
he would be with Craig forever. And then stars exploded
behind Craig's eyes.

Somewhere in the multicolored black, Jesse shouted

his name, and for an instant, Craig could not tell where
he ended and Jesse began. He was feeling Jesse's orgasm
as his own, could feel with Jesse's skin, taste with Jesse's
mouth, hear with Jesse's ears.

"Oh, God, babe," he groaned. "That was the best

birthday present ever."

Jesse dropped a kiss on Craig's shoulder and gingerly

pulled out. He stretched, then curled against Craig's side,

pillowing his head on Craig's shoulder. "Uh-huh," he
agreed sleepily. "But not better than my cake, right?"

Craig snorted. "You wanna go have cake," he said,

"you go right ahead. I'm gonna stay right here and take a
little nap."

"Mm, cake," Jesse mumbled, but made no effort to

move. He always, always dropped off for ten minutes or
so after sex, and Craig knew it, and Jesse knew that he
knew it. Craig ruffled his fingers through Jesse's soft
blond hair and let himself drift.

"Hey," Jesse said.
He must be making a heroic effort to stay awake.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Glad you moved out here," Jesse said.
"Me, too." What was that about?
"Hey?"
Jeez, Jesse was feeling as chatty as a girl tonight.

"Yeah?"

"Think I love you," Jesse sighed.
Oh. "Oh." Craig's heart pounded extra-hard for a few

beats, and Craig's hand shook, just a tiny bit, as he ran
his fingers through Jesse's hair again, as soft to the touch
as Jesse's favorite pink feather boa. "Me, too,
sweetheart. Me, too."

Assumption of Desire

39

If you liked this, try these other stories from Elizabeth
Brooks and Torquere Press!

Of One Mind

Has telepathy ruined romance? Jereth Collier has
always thought so, but after years of fruitless searching,
he's finally driven by loneliness and an inexpressible
hunger to the mysterious priests of the Goddess to find
his destined mate and one true love. Unfortunately,
Jereth's mate is not the woman of his dreams -- in fact,
Jereth's mate isn't a woman at all!

Caris Meghlin is trapped in a net of poverty, fear, and
abuse by his violent and criminal half-brother, but he

yearns desperately for escape. Just as he thinks his
wildest dreams are coming true, his long-awaited
soulmate Jereth rejects him, crushing his last hopes of
rescue and breaking his heart. Jereth must learn to
master his fears and open his heart and mind to Caris
before Caris' brutish brother can complete his
destruction and Jereth himself is left forever alone.

Safe Harbor

Rafe's first dozen years were brutal, defined by
privation in the slums of the free city Haven. When
Maestro Servio, Haven's finest shipwright, offers the
boy a position as an apprentice, Rafe finds himself
bewildered and confused by a world he's never hoped to
enter, and suffering nightmares, memories of the past he
only wants to leave behind. In order to survive, he relies
desperately on his fellow apprentice, Tyver.

As they enter adulthood together, Rafe realizes that his
friendship with Tyver has grown into something deeper.
He dreams of making Tyver his lover, but before that
dream can come true, Rafe must set aside lessons of

Assumption of Desire

40

pain and fear that he's learned all too well, and instead
learn to trust not only Tyver, but himself.

Assumption of Desire

41