Jealousy: A Love Story

An EQUILIBRIUM Short Story

by Katey Hawthorne

Copyright 2011 Katey Hawthorne

This free short story may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes,

provided the story remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please head to

kateyhawthorne.com and say hello. Thank you for your support.

The "Read Me" File

This is just a little bonus content, a thank-you to the people who've been good enough to consider
checking out my very first superpowered romance from Loose Id, Equilibrium. It's a kind of sequel in that
it happens after those events, but very short and sweet. I wrote "Jealousy" because, for one, I thought
it'd be fun to give Sam a chance to tell a story, and for another, I like characters solving real problems
in...well, mostly grown-up ways. So this is just a little aftermath "day in the life" relationship fluff for the
boys to accompany your morning coffee or late afternoon martini.

Looking for more than fluff? Check out the "But wait, there's more..." bit after the story!

And just because the mixed tape is so important to me, I feel like I should add in that the soundtrack for
this one was Art Brut's "Jealous Guy" off the album It's a Bit Complicated and Arctic Monkeys' "Crying
Lightning" off the album Humbug.

Warnings and disclaimers:

1. Minor spoilers for Equilibrium abound (and one major one -- as in, is there an HEA?), though there's
still plenty to discover in the book if you want to start with this as an introduction or sampler.

2. This story contains superpowers, uncomfortable emotions, NC-17 m/m sex practices, and vegan
cookies. It is not for children, vegan haters, or witch hunters.

3. This ebook is not associated with Loose Id, LLC, the publishers of Equilibrium. It is a short promotional
freebie extra from the author to the reader. It was, however, edited by Raven McKnight, who is
awesome.

<3 Katey

Jealousy: A Love Story

Thesis-time stress had Hansen all knotted up, and I was at a loss, since there's only so much a guy can do
before someone ends up walking funny. He's not into the natural-beauty thing like his parents, or the
romantic walk, but dragging him into the woods around the Falls State campus was the only thing I
could think of. We get the most incredible Octobers here because things go orange and red and yellow a
little earlier than they do in Wheeling, then seem to stay that way longer. Sometimes I miss the Ohio
back home, all big and powerful -- the "falls" here are a six-foot drop at best, and the "river" is more of a
creek -- but at least I still have the hills. And in fall, man, they light up like fire.

(Yeah, yeah, I'm a sucker for it.)

He didn't complain, even seemed to relax a little, but I think he was pretty relieved when we emerged
into the real word just near the soccer field. We found Jarrett and Vanessa watching the A-team give the
beat-down to Alderson-Broaddus, led by a kid with RAYNER across his back: Jarrett's little brother. The
competition wasn't so steep, but he had mad footwork, pushing it right through the legs of more than
one defender to come in for a great cross. He also had a mean left foot and drilled a shot into the top
right corner -- only one touch, total confidence -- right after we got there.

Nessa said, "He's gonna take your scoring record."

"He can have it." Five minutes and I could tell he deserved it.

Hansen leaned against my arm, which is extra nice on a chilly afternoon since dude's like a portable
furnace. He'd give a grunt of approval when someone did something brilliant -- mostly the Rayner kid --
but was definitely lost in game theory somewhere in that hyperactive brain of his. Better than him
beating his head off a book at home, though, so we stuck around till the end.

Jarrett introduced the kid as Marco. Until he shook my hand, I'd been too busy watching his feet to
notice he was gorgeous. Pale eyes and clear, browned skin, same distracting combo as his brother.
Maybe I smiled a little too big, but he didn't seem to mind.

He said, "Holy shit, Sam MacLeod! I remember watching you, man. I so wanted to be you."

I continued to be extra smiley, thinking, Hey, nice taste, kid, all flattered.

Then he took Hansen's hand, and the good-taste observation came back to bite me in the ass.

Hansen, he's got that nice V shape to him, wide shoulders tapering into slim hips, ass to die for, all that.
And his face, guh. He's got these big blue eyes, not normal blue, but this uncanny… You know that
crayon called "cornflower blue"? I've never seen a fucking flower on any corn, but his eyes are like that.
His eyelashes are all long and golden and --

Okay, I'm even annoying myself with this. Sorry. Point is, my boyfriend is the hotness.

So handsome star player Marco took his hand, and Hansen smiled and told him he was brilliant. And
Marco stepped nearer and asked him his name and held his gaze and wouldn't let his hand go.

That electrical place deep inside me sparked to life. You'd think Hansen would be smarter about this
shit, but he's really dumb for a smart guy -- completely unaware of his own boner-inducing qualities.

And no, I wasn't just being paranoid. Nessa caught my gaze behind Hansen's back, one dark eyebrow
raised. I could practically hear her saying, "Oh my god, do you see this kid eye-fucking your boy?"

~~~

"Oh my god, did you see that kid eye-fucking your boy?" Vanessa laughed into her Honeyed Fox.

I snorted, watching Hansen's fine ass as he destroyed Daly in a game of darts. I made myself stop after a
few seconds, but that just meant I was facing down the Pits' restored jukebox.

One I'd blown to shit last year, just in time to have Hansen save me from sending the whole bar up in
flames. Which is another story for another time, but yeah, not the best thing to be thinking about while
rocking the insecure douche mode.

"He's so oblivious," she went on.

"So get Jarrett to tell the kid to turn it down," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Like it's a crime or something. You eye-fucked him the whole time we were dating."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

She kissed my cheek. "Poor baby."

When I looked again, Hansen caught my gaze over his shoulder. I smiled hopefully.

He returned it, but Marco Rayner sidled up to him, acting like he needed throwing lessons. He came in
close, let his elbow bump Hansen's.

I gritted my teeth.

"Crazy is not sexy, Sam," said Nessa.

"You don't stop rolling your eyes, they're gonna get stuck like that."

"I'm trying to help."

"Yeah, awesome, thanks."

She scooted away to join Jarrett, who was drunk enough to wrap an arm around her waist and spin her,
then kiss her hard on the mouth.

See, that wouldn't have bothered me even when we'd been dating. Hell, I would've proposed an open
relationship, except that she'd have mounted my head on a pike. But the way Marco threw his arm
around Hansen's shoulders and leaned his head in close, pointing at the dartboard like he was honestly
interested in how to aim this shot...

Sparktastic.

I hate feeling like I want to electrocute people. Been there, done that, bought the charred, guilt-soaked
T-shirt. I buried my face in my drink and pretended to pick out songs until Daly came to argue about
college basketball with me.

Whatever. Stupid college kids. Fuck 'em.

(Or not. Please. Not.)

~~~

We pressed into the booth, Hansen first, then me against him, Nessa and Jarrett across from us. While
Hansen sipped at his Jack and Coke, I leaned against him, ignoring my own. Marco was beside his
brother, next to some undergrad friend of his, and they were both hitting on Rhonda beside me, Daly
laughing at them on the far side of her.

But then Marco fixed his pretty eyes on Hansen and started asking what he did.

"Econ. Game theory. Not exactly drinking talk." Hansen waggled his tumbler in the air.

"I'm taking econ," said the pretty-boy soccer star. "Dr. Biltmore's a fuck-stick."

"You want Dr. Ferrara. I'm TA'ing her intro course."

"Oh, you're the hot TA."

I laughed with everyone else, but if I put my arm around Hansen's waist… I mean, he was leaning
forward; it was right there.

"No, that's Mary Clarkson. All the freshmen are gagging for it." Hansen grinned. "Drives her up the wall."

See? Cute as fuck, but dumb, you gotta admit.

I slipped my hand into the back of his jeans. His boxers are the super-soft, short, cottony kind, and all
that fire in his blood means he runs hot, so his skin feels incredible. I tickled the small of his back, slipped
a finger into the top of his ass crack, and squeezed my legs together.

He sat up straighter, biting his bottom lip.

"Nah," said Marco. "Some hot blond guy. The girls are freaking out."

Hansen rolled his eyes and hid in his drink while the graduates speculated on this announcement.

I slipped my hand downward so I could lodge my finger in his crack, still tickling with my thumb.

His ears turned pink. Between that and his warm, soft skin under my fingers, I was half hard. I leaned
over while no one was paying much attention, put my lips to his ear, and said, "Good thing you were
never my TA. I'd have gotten jack shit done."

"You got jack shit done anyhow." But he kissed me, and I slipped my hand farther down, palming his ass.
He squirmed, and my cock twitched.

"Oh fuck, here they go," Daly said from the end of the booth.

"What?" I pulled my lips off Hansen and looked around, all innocence. "Don't be jealous of my hot TA."

Marco Rayner wasn't even trying to hide his disappointment. I wanted to stare the kid down but knew
better; Hansen was too busy being mortified and sexy to notice what was going on yet, but if he did,
God help me.

The next look I caught was Vanessa's. She pursed her lips in that look that every single woman, I swear
to Christ, learns from her mother at birth. That disapproving, "You're such a fucking tool" look.

But Hansen wasn't digging in his heels when I suggested we go home and continue the party there.
Alone.

~~~

Keeping my hand out of his pants on the walk home was an exercise in restraint, so you better believe I
was already tearing off his shirt as I backed him through the front door. I kicked it shut and helped him
get mine off, then started on his pants.

"Fuck, almost tore the button." He laughed.

"Get naked faster," I suggested.

More laughing. "The hell is into you?"

"Same thing that's always into me, honey." I yanked his pants down and paused to let him undo mine.

Though I'd felt it, seen it through his jeans, there's something about the sight of Hansen all hard for me,
up close and personal, that makes me feel like I'm throwing sparks inside. Like I can't control it, but not
in the way I used to arc and blow shit up before he saved me. In a good way, the way that makes my skin
come alive and my heart race and my blood crackle. I yanked the shorts down over his ass, and he
wriggled out, then kicked them to one side. I held him at arm's length and stared. His long legs and his
flushed cock and the flat of his belly, all pale and -- and there's this word, "lithe", but it sounds kinda
girly, and he's anything but. He ever knew I thought it, I think he'd set me on fire, but he's just so
goddamn pretty like that. Pretty like a Greek statue, something that just makes you stop and stare.

He was pink-faced when I met his eyes again, biting at his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He tugged
at my shorts.

I stepped out of them, then grabbed him and put his bare ass against the wall. "What're you laughing
at?"

"It's fucking embarrassing when you do that."

"What, like I've never seen you naked?" I closed in, aligning my hips with his, catching his cock between
us and pressing mine tight against it. His hot skin, his hard stomach, his warm breath against my lips, all
magic. I put one hand at his neck, feeling his pulse pounding there and twisting his hair around my
fingertips. I leaned my forehead against his.

He sighed and rocked his hips against me, closing his eyes.

I said, "You have no fucking idea how hot you are. And don't say it's not true -- it's a topic of general
conversation."

He kissed me hard and rocked again, trapped between me and the wall and loving it. He bit down on my
bottom lip as he closed it off, then said, "Fuck's sake. Shut up, Sammy."

I smiled and kissed him stupid against the wall, slipping one hand between us to tweak at his nipple,
getting it hard. He panted into me, and I pinched -- little trick he'd taught me, there -- then let go with a
static charge.

He moaned into my mouth and rearranged himself so my thighs fit between his. His burning hands
toyed with the hair at my nape, then grabbed my ass and pulled me into him, rubbing off his dick, all
impatient.

This was the point where he'd usually drag me to the bedroom.

Instead, I pulled away -- though it fucking hurt -- and dragged him to the couch.

"What --"

"C'mere. I just want to..." My throat went tight. I wrapped him up and buried him in kisses, licking the
roof of his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, sighing when he bit down on mine in reply. "I wanna lick
you everywhere."

He laughed and let me wrestle him down on the couch, pulling me into him so we were pressed tight
again, his long, pale thighs around my hips. "Lick me till I scream?"

"Mmm-hmm," I agreed, sucking at his neck. "Want to make you feel how hot you are." I scraped my
teeth over the soft spot just beneath his jaw.

"Unh. Fuck. Sam."

I did it, too. Licked his neck, kissed his chest, toyed with his hard, pink nipples with my mouth, my hand,
my electricity, until he made that sweet little moaning sound again, his fingers locked into my hair tight.
I lifted myself a little so I could go down farther, run my tongue down his middle, circle his navel, and
then dip into the pretty little pit it made. The head of his cock rubbed at my chest. His hips tried to raise
up to get more, knees so wide apart one was off the couch completely. I buried my face in the hollow of
his hip and ran one hand up the smooth inside of his thigh, tickling with a faint static charge until I got to
his groin, then letting it fall off. I moved down a little lower, sucked hard at the other side, in the crease
of his thigh, just near his balls.

"Oh my god." He groaned, fingers going tight in my hair again.

The little kick of pain made my cock pound for it. Electricity stretched out from my middle, looking to fill
up every last inch of me.

I glanced up at him. "Back now?"

"Huh?" His eyelashes raised and settled again, heavy.

Sexy motherfucker, my god. "Gotta do the other side."

He grinned, and I took him by the hips, helped him flip over and settle into the couch with his ass in the
air, one knee buried in the cushions, one off again. I paused to admire the perfect curve of his backside,
the split of it, how his long thighs and that sweet dip in his lower back made this all look so pretty
instead of the dirty hot mess it was.

I curled into him at first, fitting him close and leaning down to kiss at overheated skin. My cock slipped
between his thighs, up high, pressing tight against his balls. He arched into me, up and open, then
wriggled downward to rub his asshole off on me. The universal signal for "you can have it if you want it"
almost blacked me out; I had to hold his hips with both hands to keep my balance. I said something like,
"So fucking hot" or "I fucking want you" or maybe just "Oh fuck."

Doesn't really matter. All means the same thing.

I ran my tongue down his back in a line, dipped it into his ass crack. His backside rose, and I kept going.
Down, down until I found his tight little hole. The sound he made, pure lust wrapped up tight in his fire,
made my fingers and toes go numb; the world went electric blue behind my eyes. I licked him in a circle,
rubbed at his taint until it throbbed under my fingers and his hips rocked regularly.

"Ahhhh, fffffffuck." His legs trembled; his rhythm shifted, faster and harder. He reached for his cock,
wrapped around it, and squeezed.

No way not to think about it: working my dick into that tight ass with nothing but spit between us. He'd
buck back against me, want me to smack his ass, tell me harder, harder, even all rough like that.

He'd fuck me stupid. He'd fuck me happy. He'd fuck me like only he ever could.

But I wanted, needed just to focus on him. With him on my dick, the intention wasn't different, but it
would be about me as much as him, and --

I just wanted to lick him till he screamed, yeah.

Didn't take long after that. He growled and bucked back on my tongue and hand and came for a good
couple of seconds, burying the cry that came with his orgasm it in the armrest. Only bad thing about
having my face in his crack was that I didn't get to see it, but fuck it, man, because I felt it in waves
against my tongue and fingertips, and it made me drip for him.

He slumped, breathing hard. I sat back on my heels and admired. I was sparking inside again, but now it
was somewhere in my chest. I wanted him so bad, wanted to take him up on that offer he was making,
just by staying in that position.

I thought I might explode, just lightning myself to death right there, fry up. Fucking die happy if I did.

He pushed himself up on all fours, arms shaky. "Oh my fuck, Sam. I...unh. Fuck."

I smiled and leaned back, ass to cushion, as he turned to face me. I said, "You believe me now, honey?"

He fell forward, then caught himself with a hand on either side of my waist. His hair shaded most of his
face from the moonlight. But his eyes caught it, flashing bright. "Believe you what?"

"About how fucking hot you are."

"I believe we just fucked up our new couch, is what I believe."

I brushed his lips. "I'm serious."

He kissed my fingertips but made a face. For about three minutes the world would make sense to him. It
showed in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

I fingered his soft hair. Like I even fucking knew, because, "Everything's right, baby."

"No, you're being weird." He pushed my thighs together, straddled them, then settled his ass just below
my hips. My dick stood up straight just in front of him, and he ran his hands -- heating them as he went -
- up and up, nearer and nearer.

"I...uhh..."

He leaned over me, lowered his mouth to mine. Bit down on my bottom lip gently, sinking lower to
press my cock into his belly. "Tell me later. My turn now."

"I --"

He bit me again, this time a little harder but still not as hard as I kind of wanted. "Later, Sam. Already
fucked up the couch, might as well get it done all the way."

He's so hard to argue with, my Hansen. Nearly fucking impossible, most times.

~~~

Hansen was looking at me funny the next day, so I volunteered to go to the store. I did myself a solid
and snagged some miso-marinated baked tofu and stopped at the bakery for his gingersnaps.

The way to a man's heart, et cetera.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself -- until I saw Jarrett's car in the driveway. Sure enough, there I was
with my shoulders loaded down with Hansen's reusable canvas bags and complicated earth-conscious
vegan food, and there he was at the kitchen table, drinking beer with Jarrett and Marco Rayner.

And while I was trying to put away the cookies without them noticing -- no gingersnaps for them, fuck
that -- Marco said, "So, you should come out clubbing with us. We're gonna drive up to Huntington and
see what we can find, crash in a hotel. Plenty of room for everyone. Daly's coming."

Bam, internal electrical fire, just like that.

Hansen was laughing. "Dude, you're into this?"

Jarrett said, "Nessa gave me a pass for the night."

"She ever give you one, Sam?" Marco asked.

There was no right answer to that question, and everyone in that room knew it. If I said yes, it was like I
was comparing my shit with Jarrett's. I said no, it was like I was saying Ness was a hard-ass bitch -- and
my mama taught me not to use that word, which made it doubly annoying. Either way, it was like I
remembered stupid-ass details about our relationship, which, I mean, of course you do sometimes, but
not like that. Yet, if I said I didn't remember, it was like I was trying to be a hard-ass, acting all tough.

God, I hate this fucking kid. I said, "I don't know," and stuck my head back in the fridge.

"No, thanks," Hansen said. "I mean, if Sam wants to..."

"Sam doesn't want to," I said, trying not to sound like, well, electricity.

"Told you," Jarrett said.

"Whatever. You're missing out," said Marco. Then one last time, lowering his voice, "Guys night out.
Freedom to do whatever you want. No strings."

Option A: shock the shit out of him.

Option B: punch him in the neck.

Option C: neither; possibly get laid again someday.

"Thanks, but no, thanks." Hansen laughed. "You guys want one for the road?"

There was stirring, so I assumed they were moving. Which was good, since I was about to rip the
refrigerator door off the hinges Incredible Hulk-style.

Jarrett sent a, "Hey, see you next week, Sam!" my way. I willfully ignored the shit out of whatever Marco
said to Hansen.

"Uh, dude, you trying to air condition the kitchen?"

I closed the door and took a deep breath.

Not Hansen's fault. Marco's. He knew we were a thing. He came to our house, the one we rented
together and --

I cut my own mental tirade off before I accidentally fried the microwave or something. I was having a
good accident-free streak, and that little fuck wasn't going to ruin it. "They couldn't just call and invite
us?"

Hansen shrugged and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. I continued
putting the groceries away, and he said, "They're on their way over to Daly's. Stopped on impulse."

"Right."

He was quiet, but in a weird, loud way. I kept shoving things into cupboards and gritting my teeth.
Because I'm supermature.

"You don't like Marco," Hansen said.

I shrugged.

More silence. Then, "You don't actually care about the scoring record, do you?"

"Fuck the record."

"Then what?"

I turned and finally looked at him, really looked hard. "You know how I always say you're really dumb for
a smart guy?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Exhibit fuckin' A, right here."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

"Do you like him?" I asked.

"He's Jarrett's brother. I like Jarrett. He obviously wants to hang out with us, so --"

"You, Hansen. He wants to hang out with you."

At first, there was just that brow-furrowing look. And then understanding crept over him like the sun
coming up. "I think you're losing your mind."

I slammed down a box of crunchy hippie cereal. "That guy turns into a walking hard-on when you come
into the room, and you're so fucking oblivious --"

"Whoa." He held up both hands, lips pressing into a pale, thin line, jaw working. "Okay, first of all, no he
does not. He was joking last night about the hot TA."

I snorted. "This is exactly what I --"

"And even if he wasn't, so fucking what?"

I paused. "What?"

"What if this weird delusion of yours was for real? You think I'm just gonna skip along after him like
some easy piece of ass?" His voice was getting hotter and hotter, and the fire behind his eyes rose. It
was always there with him, just beneath the surface, but this little scene was stoking it hard.

Which was kind of distracting, to be honest. In the “in my pants” sense.

"No. I mean, I know you -- you wouldn't." Not without telling me first, anyhow. He'd always been kind of
annoyed with my whole bi deal, and he was my friend and my boyfriend and my family and my teacher,
and without him I'd have been dead at least ten times over, but he didn't really need me like that --

"Then explain what your damage is, because I'm having a..." He paused, mouth open. "Holy shit."

That phrase, right there? That shit was “Hansen is about to tie me to the couch and set it on fire” hot.
My brain went numb, bracing for impact.

"That's what last night was about," he said.

I flushed.

"Oh my god." He covered his face with one hand, and his jaw worked harder than ever. He was getting
pink now -- and he has to be really hot to change colors. "I don't believe it. Groping me in the booth like
--"

"C'mon, I do that shit all the --"

He looked out from behind his hand, and the fire in his eyes stopped me dead. He said, "Did you fucking
alpha out on me?"

This time, I was definitely going to incinerate myself with lightning. "No. Jesus, Hansen, you know I'm
not --"

"Right, that wasn't, like, a possessive thing at all, grabbing my ass and telling everyone not to be jealous
of your hot TA?"

I am not the king of the snappy comeback, I admit. I had nothing.

He laughed, in a scary way. "You've got some fucking nerve, man. I go through years -- I mean years -- of
jealousy. I just swallow it whole, let you get on with your life --"

"We've been through this. I had no idea you'd ever --"

"No, like, not even that. I mean, even last night. I look over, and -- and Vanessa is kissing you. She's
always fucking kissing you, Sam. Do you ever think that, like, considering our issues as a couple, you
could ask her to be a little more --"

I took a step forward. "Hansen --"

He threw up one hand. "No, stay the fuck over there."

It's generally good policy to obey Hansen. Some days even more than others.

"So some stupid little kid looks at me funny, and you start shoving your hand down my pants in public --"

"Okay, to be fair, I will shove my hand down your pants any chance I get."

"Yeah, true, but --" He made a face. "Don't change the subject. Then you bring me back here and pull
that shit --"

"I don't remember you complaining last night."

"Stop changing the subject!"

"Stop accusing me of touching you just to fuck someone else off." I barely suppressed an urge to stomp
my foot. "I love you, you stupid prick."

"Yeah, well, I love you too, you dumb bastard, but you don't see me pissing all over you to mark my
fucking territory."

"I wasn't trying to --"

"Yes, you were."

"I just wanted to..." But I didn't know how to say it. "Okay, maybe, like, in the bar that's what it was. I'm
sorry; it was brainless. But not once we were back here."

His upper lip curled, but he settled back into himself, rested a hand on the counter. Then, after the
longest ten seconds of silence in the history of the world, said, "I guess you would've fucked me, if it
was."

I blinked.

"You know. Take me back. Make me yours again. Whatever."

"Where the hell do you get this shit -- the Grand Theft Auto Guide to Relationships? Jesus, Hansen."

"Shut up, you know what I mean. Fuck, I totally wanted it, too."

"No shit." The crackling had gone all wonky inside me, sort of lashing about aimlessly, like a cat's tail.
Little places in me lit up, but I couldn't make any sense of it. I was just all prickly and nervous and scared
and -- and goddamn, he was gorgeous when he was angry. His mouth was open, and his cheeks were
flushed, and his skin must be so hot. I just wanted to grab those pants and yank them down and go for
broke.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I mean, you're, uh, you. You start putting your ass up in the air like that, it's sort of your 'let's fuck'
thing. If it's been a while, you'll just tell me, but sometimes, uh..."

He made a face. "I don't put my ass up in the air."

"Um, you do. I'm just thinking about it right now and…" I gestured to the serious boner action in
progress. What can you do, right?

His own reaction was pretty obvious. I started to get a little dizzy, between all the anger and the sudden
bout of inescapable holy-fuck horny.

He pushed off the counter and came to stand in front of me, so I could feel the heat rolling off him,
soaking through my clothes, into my skin.

My cock got another rush. Rock hard. Unh.

He saw. He fixed his attention on my package, then up, until it hit my eyes finally. "So why didn't you
fuck me, Sam?"

"I, uh... I just wanted to, like, to..."

"To what?"

Jesus, this was perverse. I wasn't sure if that look meant he was about to burn me up or jump me. I
would've been awesome with either.

Or both.

At the same time.

"Wanted to show you how I...you know. How I...like, see you. How everyone sees you." I cleared my
throat and wished I could reach out and grab him. Show him.

But he just stood there, hands clenched into fists, staring.

"I didn't want to make it about me. Just wanted to make you...hot. Or something. I don't know. I mean,
not that that fucking doesn't make you hot. I guess I just --"

He shut me up with a hard kiss. So hard our front teeth clacked, crushed our lips, but it just made me
spark inside. He ran one hand up my chest, tickling and burning, then cupped my chin. When he pulled
his lips away, he held me there. "I'm not a chew toy. You can't bury me in a hole when you're not using
me so no one else can get a look."

Taking my life in my hands, I reached out and grabbed his waist. He lifted his chin, daring me to move
closer and see how I'd suffer. If it was a game, I might've, just so he could make me get down on my
knees and pray for forgiveness.

But yeah. Some shit needed saying. "First off, the dog metaphors make me sound like a bigger dickface
than I am, so knock it off. Second, you know I'm not fucking using you, so don't start this ‘confused
straight boy with a convenient gay fuck toy’ thing again, okay? Bi people exist. Deal with it."

He glared.

I narrowed my eyes, tightening my grip on him. "But other than that: yeah, you're right. I was being a
jealous dickface."

He took his hand off my chin and slipped it downward, pressing my shoulder into the fridge. I could pick
Hansen up and throw him over my shoulder if I really needed to, so I don't know how he does it. But
goddamned if I could move.

"If you weren't such a jerk, this would be really hot," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, too bad, ‘cause I'm a jerk."

"Yeah, you are." His free hand reached out, tucked into the front of my jeans.

A warm shock arced through my bloodstream. My dick got even heavier, pushing against my fly. Too
fucking tight, not tight enough, whatever.

I leaned forward, tilting my face slightly. "You gotta admit, that little shit was disrespecting us. Coming
up in here and trying that when he knew we were together."

He seemed to consider this as he popped my button. "Maybe. If he really was flirting. But --"

"He was flirting, you sexy fuck. Guess I can't blame him."

He pulled me closer by the zipper, dropping it in the process. Near freedom, god, wanted it so, so bad. I
leaned down to kiss him, and he met me open-mouthed, all hot and wet inside. He bit down on my lip,
and I meant to say something reassuring, something to let us skip to the good bits, but he beat me to it
by shoving his hand down the front of my open pants, rubbing up over the head of my dick, then back
down again.

Yeah, conversation over. Officially at the good bits.

I tore off his jeans as fast as I could, then started tugging at his shirt. Seeing as my mouth was occupied, I
just kind of grunted at him, and he took the hint and pulled his hand out of my pants, tore off his shirt,
grabbed for mine, and got it over my head. When he put his hand back down there, it was inside my
shorts, his fingers heating up and wrapping around me. He hummed into my ear and said, "How about
now? Okay with making it about you?"

I meant to tell him that it was totally not necessary, but he grabbed my waistband and had my shorts
down around my thighs before I got it out. My dick stood straight, and Hansen hit his knees, pushing me
back against the fridge.

I stumbled, laughing, and my bare ass sent magnets plummeting to the hardwood. Before I was even
stable, Hansen went for it, taking as much as he could get into his mouth.

Then it was on, him bobbing his head, one hot hand coming up to massage my balls as he went, getting
me wet, oh god, so fucking wet. It dripped between my legs, and he rubbed it into all those sweet,
sensitive spots, up and down and sending little lightning bolts across my field of vision.

He pulled back, so much suction all the way up my cock that it came out of his mouth with a little pop.
He looked up at me through his hair and cocked his head.

Christ, I needed to come. I panted, confused. Should I beg? Should I --

He said, "Want to fuck, honey?"

Unf. "So bad."

Not that I'd be able to last, but --

He dragged me to the opposite counter. I sidled up behind him, not really paying attention to whatever
he was doing, and pulled his shorts down over that tight little ass, then pressed my dripping cock into
the split of it. I reached around, made sure the waistband got over his dick, and dropped the shorts to
the floor. I kissed at his neck, his hair, his shoulders, and he angled upward to let me get in close.

"Mmm, say you believe me, Hansen, please."

"Hmm?"

"Say you believe me, that you're fucking hot. C'mon. I'm begging you."

He laughed, fumbling for something on the counter. "I believe you think I'm hot."

"So hot it hurts." That's how I always thought of him. Used to jerk off and catch myself thinking about it,
stop for a second, try to catch my breath, and I'd ache so bad.

He grabbed for my hand, pulling it around him and holding it palm up, and then something wet hit it. I
looked over his shoulder. Vegetable oil. I laughed and rolled my hips against him.

He squeezed his legs together and sighed with me. He said, "Need it now."

I peeled myself off him. With one fingertip, I drew a line down the small of his back, into his crack. He
hummed; his ass went up. I grinned, but kept my mouth shut, and traced all the way down between his
legs. I rubbed it in, circling --

"Unh, fuck me."

My vision filled with lightning again. I slipped in a finger just to get it wet, and he groaned, ass up again,
inching back on it. So hot, so goddamn hot up inside him, so motherfucking intense. And so tight, Jesus, I
had no idea how he could take a cock, but he loved it. He leaned forward, palms flat on the counter, and
gave a little hiss. It dissolved into a moan as I worked inward.

"Mmm, fuck yeah, Sam." He rocked back on me. "Yeah, keep going -- ah. Fuck. There." He made a fist
and pounded the counter.

My whole body tightened up when he got that -- that something in his voice. Like he was so hot he
forgot himself, couldn't help telling me everything he wanted, just giving it up and laying it on me.
Goddamn, I had to lean against him to keep upright. I worked it a little more, figured out the angle
that'd let me hit it just right, until he reached back and grabbed my dick with an oiled-up hand, started
stroking it slow and tight.

At which point it seemed kinda dumb not to fuck him. I mean, I was finger-fucking him; he was jerking
me off. That just didn't make sense anymore, let's be real.

I pulled out, and he leaned forward again. I almost came all over him when I looked down at my hand
working my dickhead in, saw that pretty split ass and those legs spread wide, that little dip in the small
of his back. He made an impatient noise, and I pushed up a little. He hissed again and started working
his way back on my dick, me holding his hip and gritting my teeth at the sudden rush of hot, too-tight,
biting holyfuckyeah, him edging back, owning me.

When he seemed to relax a little, I rocked my hips, trying to find the angle again. The sensation -- his
blazing heat and that supertight space wrapped around my cock -- almost pushed me over the edge. I
reached around to grab him, and that didn't help; he moaned and arched when I wrapped my slicked
fingers around his cock and rubbed up over the head. He was dripping for it.

His feet slipped father apart, so I had to sink through my thighs to keep the angle, pulling him almost
into my lap, but goddamn, that let me get right up in there where --

"Ah, that's it. Mmm, fuck yeah." His elbows locked, and he arched into me, bringing me in deeper still,
then pulling out, then back in again, hard. It was all I could do to keep up, keep jerking him off, and keep
one hand at his hip to steady myself.

I had to kind of go away for a while. If I'm too much in it, I can't hold out for him, and I mean, whatever,
love ain't always perfect. But that day it kinda needed to be (though I'd forgotten why, at that point), so
I bit my tongue and tried not to concentrate on the inexplicably hot smacking sound of us coming
together faster and faster, his little moans, his straining cock in my hand, his hips working, my thighs
burning, and Jesus help me, but if I looked down --

"Mmm, faster, Sam. That's it. That's fucking it."

I heard that, auto-response sucked me back into my head. He was bucking back into me hard, and I was
angling it just how he wanted it, rocking my hips and staring down at my cock sliding in and out of him
while he demanded to be fucked harder.

What could I do but smack his ass and hold on for the ride?

So I did. Then I reached up and ran my hand down his back, static charging it, sending little arcs all over
his skin so his whole body shuddered. Grabbed him and pulled him back against me, smacked his ass
again --

At that point I had about five seconds. But Hansen's a sucker for the electricity and my hand on his ass,
so he slammed back on me so hard my head started to spin, said, "Ah, fuck me, don't stop," kept his
back bowed so his ass was up high and his legs wide, and let me go while he came like a champ in my
hand. Just because he knows I love it, he moaned, "Don't stop; don't fucking stop, yeah, mmm..." again.

He knew I wouldn't fucking stop. Apart from wanting it so bad I could taste it at that point, I already
knew he liked me to keep going. But I liked hearing it all the same.

So I didn't fucking stop, and he reached back and cracked me one on the side of my ass, and I watched
my cock getting porn star treatment from that magnificent ass and --

Fffffffffffffffffffffffuck, man.

That's about all I can say about it. Just. Fuck, man.

My boyfriend. So hot.

~~~

"They did invite you too, you know," Hansen said. "And if Jarrett knew, he wouldn't --"

"Jarrett definitely doesn't know it, but the kid wants to fuck you." Funny how the thought didn't bother
me so much while Hansen and I were stretched out together on the couch in nothing but our
underwear. I pressed my cheek to his forehead, flattening his hair between us. "If looks could undress,
you'd be naked the second he walked into the room."

"Ugh. High school boy."

"College."

"Freshman," he muttered into my shoulder, his breath hot and wet against my skin. "Barely even
human."

"Mmm, grad-student superiority complex."

He gave me a halfhearted shove, then went back to draping himself over my left side, his chest rising
and falling slow against my ribs, his arm around my middle. I took a deep breath of him, the smell of his
skin, his sweat, his shampoo.

Goddamn. So happy, I could scream lightning. The fuck was I thinking, imagining some punk-ass kid
could even touch us? Which reminded me, "You seriously still weirded out by Ness?"

"I try not to be. I can't help feeling that way, but I trust you, so...I act like it."

"It's not that I don't trust you --"

"I swear to God, if you say that it's that you don't trust them, I will have to get up and walk away." He
shoved himself out from between me and the back of the couch and leaned over my stomach to grab a
cookie off the coffee table. "And I really don't want to get up and walk away, because this is the part
where Hansen gets to revel in living out his fantasy."

My favorite vacation ever: the ego trip. "When you put it that way…"

In school, I never thought he looked at me twice, not like that. I’d definitely considered that he might be
gay, but thought I was just being a perv. By the time I met him, I had years of unfulfilled guy-on-guy
fantasies and the beginnings of a stellar porn collection. Not to mention I'd never gone after anyone in
my life, let alone a dude.

And then we moved in together. The day I ran into him coming out of the shower with just this thin little
towel around his waist -- Jesus, Hansen's the kind of guy who'd go to and from the showers in the dorm
fully clothed. I'd never even seen him with his shirt off. I’d jerked off for weeks to that shit.

There was a vibe. Maybe I should've picked up on it. But I’d felt a little guilty about it and kept making it
worse. Walking around in my underwear to make him squirm. Talking dirty to see him flush. I was
otherwise occupied, and he was too busy trying to ignore me to figure out that my perpetual boner
might mean I saw something I liked.

Just saying, I reckon we're lucky we got there when we did. When I really, really needed him to love me.

He threw his legs over my belly so his ass sank into the couch and he was sitting up straight, munching at
his gingersnap. "I mean it. I get it. Just -- like, that shit will eat away at us. And I don't..."

I took his free hand and kissed the palm. "Anything makes me think of losing you, I just tweak. I know it's
not okay. But you --"

"Yeah, you don't have to drag all that shit out again." He rolled his eyes and broke off a piece of cookie
for me. Let it never be said that Hansen doesn't reward his devotees. (Not being sarcastic. Those things
are amazing. Also, the sex.) "I pined for you for years; you think I saved you; we're all disgustingly in love
but stupidly insecure at the same time. No one needs a diabetic coma to get the point."

He grabbed another gingersnap, which we shared again while sort of watching TV. And then I had an evil
thought. "Next time Marco hits on you, can I invite him outside? I'll be all polite, like it's one of those
old-timey duels of --"

"No."

"How about I give him a little shock when he's not looking?" Which was even less likely, as things I might
do go. That's why I knew he'd think it was funny. "I heard if you do it just right, you can black someone
out without --"

He bit back a smile. "No."

"Wedgie? Or maybe I could catch him in the bathroom and go really old school, get my swirly on."

He sighed, but the full-on smile had given him away. "No."

"Grab you and kiss the fuck out of you right in front of him?"

"N--" He paused, swallowed the last of his half of the cookie. "Okay. Maybe that."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him down for some practice.

The End

But Wait, There's More...

Looking for more superpowered action from Katey Hawthorne? We can do that! Check out...

EQUILIBRIUM

Econ student Hansen Marks has been hot for Sam MacLeod since they first bonded over their secret
superpowers--literally hot, since Hansen can produce fire from thin air. But soccer star Sam was always
covered in girls, so Hansen kept his attraction in the closet and convinced himself that "best friends" was
better than nothing.

When Sam's electrical powers freak out in public, Hansen has a sinking feeling they've been spotted by
unfriendly eyes. While dealing with the fallout, Sam's emotional dependency on Hansen forces their
mutual attraction to the surface. Even after they give in, Hansen is afraid to admit he's in love. Sam
doesn't really like guys, he's just feeling vulnerable...right?

Just as their nights are heating up, it becomes clear Sam's electrical explosion was seen, and now
someone has it in for both of them. They'll have to save each other, both from the haters and from their
own fears, if they want to maintain equilibrium.

They don't call it "game theory" for nothing. Who knew Econ could be so hot?

Excerpts, character stats, and other goodies

@ kateyhawthorne.com

Now available from

Loose Id

And coming soon...

RIOT BOY

Etienne never thought getting his pocket picked could lead to a first date. He knows the second he
catches punk boy Brady's eye that the guy is pure trouble, but Et can't resist his wicked sense of humor,
pretty face, cold hands -- and the piss off swagger when Brady's on stage with his band doesn't hurt,
either.

From Rimbaud to Buzzcocks to Malbec to handcuffs, they introduce each other to their favorite
pleasures, and the chemistry is unstoppable. But Brady disappears in the night, won't give Etienne a
phone number, doesn't talk about his past; Etienne's never known someone so hungry for affection, but
with so many trust issues. Et would give all he has, but he has the feeling Brady needs saving from
something before he can take it.

Then, the something shows up: Brady's dangerous family, all of them more than human -- including
Brady, who has the ability to supercool matter with the slightest touch. Throw in the family talent for
criminal activity, and it's an explosion waiting to happen.

Et wants to help him escape his past, but if Brady keeps disappearing, he may not get the chance.

Excerpts, character stats, and other goodies

@ kateyhawthorne.com

Coming November 2011 from

Loose Id