Stephanie Vaughan

Sharing Spaces: St. Joe

Danny Esposito tossed another pair of socks and two more pair of
underwear into the overnight bag and zipped it closed. It was just
a weekend in Orange County and he didn't need much; jeans and
polo shirts ought to do it for a short scouting trip. If things went
as expected, there'd be time to break out the Armani suits and
Berluti laceups later.

Glancing down at a photograph propped against his PC, the
carefree moment it captured made Danny pause and smile. Two
college kids in baseball uniforms grinned into the camera, arms
slung around each other's shoulders, each with a baseball glove
held close against his side.

Him and DJ at the College World Series.

Sherman, set the Wayback Machine.

DJ still lived in OC. Danny'd have to send DJ a card -- maybe they
could get together for a drink. It'd be fun to see his first boyfriend
-- his first love -- again and talk over old times. Picking up his car
keys from off the desk, Danny grabbed the overnight bag and
headed out the door.

* * *

"What's that?"

DJ looked up. Joe was no longer flipping through his own stack of
mail, his gaze now fixed on what DJ held in his hands.

"Nothin'. Just a card."

If Joe was trying for nonchalant, he was failing badly when he
cocked an eyebrow in DJ's direction. "Christmas card?"

"No, Groundhog Day -- it's a little early. Yes, a Christmas card.
Now, what are you really asking?" DJ rewound from his trip down
memory lane to look at Joe. Immaculate suit only the slightest bit
rumpled, even at the end of a long day. A thick swatch of silky
dark hair sliding down his forehead. Dark eyes over a straight,
elegant nose and sensual lips of the darkest pink curved
uncharacteristically downward.

It finally came to DJ that what felt so odd, so out of place, was
the realization that he was being grilled and he wasn't at all sure
he liked the feeling.

"Who's that in the picture?"

"Huh? Nobody. Just an old friend." DJ had been preoccupied reading
the note in the card, letting the picture fall to land face up on the
dining room table.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Sidling over to pick up the photo, Joe held it gingerly between two
fingers, like it might be radioactive. "He's cute. What's his name?"

"Danny Esposito. Why?" Tilting his head a bit to one side, as
though that might somehow make Joe's attitude more
comprehensible, DJ came around to stand next to Joe and take
another look at the picture. It was an old one; so old DJ had
forgotten its existence until it had fallen out of Danny's card.

"You two look happy."

"I suppose." DJ shrugged and turned to lay a hand on Joe's arm.
Suddenly he needed the reassurance of touch. "It was a long time
ago. That's water way under the bridge."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why aren't you?" Sliding his hand up Joe's arm, DJ
brushed Joe's hair back behind one ear, leaving his hand to rest
warmly against Joe's neck.

"I don't know." Joe's gaze slid away to look at the picture again. "I
guess there's a whole lifetime of things -- people -- in your past
that I don't know anything about. He's a good-looking guy. Who's
to say he won't show up looking to get back with you?"

"Joe?"

Still staring at the picture, Joe didn't look up. "What?"

"Who are you really and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

That got Joe's attention. Joe's head came up and DJ got a look at
those burnt chocolate eyes, the ones that made his insides turn
over every time. Only now they were hesitant -- not the
self-assured, even cocky, gaze DJ was used to. "What's that
supposed to mean?"

"It means, what happened to my king-of-cool boyfriend and who's
this guy who's so insecure all of a sudden?"

Joe's hands came up to rest at DJ's waist, fingers curling into his
T-shirt, his gaze boring into DJ's with an intensity DJ didn't know
how to read. "You have no idea what a heartbreaker you are. I still
can't believe you were single when I came along."

DJ wanted to laugh, to snort derisively at Joe's characterizing him
as a heartbreaker. Socially inept ex-jock was more like it. But the
look in Joe's eyes was so serious, DJ couldn't do that to him.
"Yeah, but I was. And you caught me."

His voice dropping to a near whisper, Joe's hand curled tighter,
digging into the skin at DJ's waist. "But do I get to keep you?"

"Joe, would you cut it out? You're freaking me out." DJ's heart was
beginning to pound, slowly picking up speed like a train heading
down a long grade.

"Oh, Deej, I love you. I love you so much." Eyes closing, Joe leaned
in, taking DJ's mouth in a hungry kiss. Tugging on DJ's waist, Joe
brought their lower bodies together, bumping in interesting ways.

DJ stood frozen, startled eyes wide open.

Joe loved him?

Even so … what was with the weird vibe DJ was getting? Joe
tugged harder, rubbing his growing arousal against DJ's. Okay, now
that felt seriously good. DJ's eyes fluttered shut as he kissed Joe
back, suddenly hurrying to make up for lost time.

"Tell me." Joe paused only long enough to murmur the words
against DJ's mouth before coming at him again from another angle,
his lips and tongue moving convincingly against DJ's.

DJ groaned as Joe reached around to grab his ass, pressing them
closer, both their cocks fully erect now and rubbing erotically. Joe
wasn't satisfied, though. "Say it."

What had they been talking about? DJ couldn't remember, couldn't
think past the throbbing in his dick. What couldn't wait to be
discussed until after they'd fucked?

Say it?

Oh.

"Yeah, do it. Fuck me."

Groaning, Joe took DJ's ass in both hands and squeezed. "No, tell
me. I want to hear you say it. Say it back."

Oh.

OH!

God, he was an idiot. "I love you, man."

"No, not like a beer commercial. Tell me you love me."

Joe pushed him backwards and DJ's butt hit the table. Shoving him
down, Joe followed, stepping between DJ's legs. Crawled on top of
him as DJ lay back on the tabletop.

"You're crazy." Joe was yanking at the buttons of DJ's fly. DJ lifted
his butt and shoved his jeans down as far as he could reach. The
red and green plaid tablecloth Joe's mom had given them meant
DJ's butt wasn't as cold as it would have been otherwise, not that
that would have mattered. He'd strip buck naked in a snowbank if
Joe wanted to fuck him.

Panting, Joe unzipped his own fly, freed his dick and began rolling a
condom onto it. DJ had long since stopped being amazed at Joe's
resourcefulness and had learned to be merely thankful for it, using
the time to clear the table, shoving the mail and his book bag to
the floor.

"I don't care, as long as you love me. Say it, dammit." Joe was
rubbing lube onto DJ's ass, onto his dick. Was probing DJ's hole
with one finger, pressing on his gland.

He wanted to. He really did, but what Joe was doing to him felt too
good. "Oh, God, that feels good."

"Oh, Deej…" Joe's voice trailed off into a low moan as he shoved
inside DJ.

The table was sturdy and they'd even joked that Joe could use it
as a bike stand when he worked on his motorcycle, so it only
rocked a little when Joe began moving. He pulled nearly all the way
out before tilting his hips to find the best angle, so that when he
pushed back in he rubbed right over DJ's spot; hit it every time
when he slid out before rocking back in.

From this angle DJ had a perfect view of the kitchen ceiling, the
Christmas lights and Star of Bethlehem atop the tree outside the
window. But he'd rather watch Joe's face. The concentration, the
pleasure, the -- he might as well admit it -- the love he saw there.

DJ jacked his own dick, squeezing in time with Joe's thrusts, the
smooth feel of Joe's pants sliding against the backs of DJ's legs an
erotic backdrop to the pleasure of Joe's cock thrusting in and out
of his ass.

Widening his stance a little, Joe leaned down to kiss DJ, slicking his
tongue in and around DJ's, his thrusts becoming slower, heavier.
"Tell me, goddammit. Why won't you say it?"

"I… I… oh, God, don't stop. Don't ever stop." Joe loved him. Joe
loved him! If they could only stay like this forever.

"I won't. Oh, babe-"

Heat shimmered up DJ's spine as he came, arching and shivering,
and two heavy thrusts later, Joe came, too. Finally opening his
eyes, DJ belatedly realized that Joe hadn't slumped forward, slowly
sliding sideways like he normally did. Instead, he was frozen in
place, head down, breathing heavily through his nose. Eyes shut.

"Joe. I'm sorry." Turning his head away, Joe bit his lip and DJ read
the hurt on his face. "I think I got spunk on your tie."

Joe just shook his head, pulling out, removing the condom. "Doesn't
matter." Slowly climbing off the table, Joe rubbed one knee a little
before heading for the kitchen and a trashcan, presumably. When
he came back, he tucked his shirt back into his pants and loosened
his tie with one hand. When Joe glanced at DJ, then away again,
the pensive look on his face was the decider. DJ had to come
clean.

Sitting up, DJ reached for his pants, sliding off the table and pulling
them up at the same time. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

DJ concentrated on buttoning his jeans. This was going to be hard.
"You didn't play a lot of sports growing up. Did you?"

Holding his tie in both hands, Joe ran the twisted bits through his
fingers, trying unsuccessfully to smooth them. He looked up from
his task, his beautiful dark eyes cutting straight through DJ's
bullshit. "No. Not unless you count racing around Pordenone on an
old Moto Guzzi a sport." He shrugged. "A little soccer."

"That's in Italy?"

"Yeah. When we were stationed at Aviano. Why?"

DJ sighed. This was going to sound so stupid. "It's like… it's like
being superstitious about sports. You win after not washing your
socks, so you never wash your socks before a game again. You
know it's stupid, but you can't help it."

Joe just fiddled with the tie and watched him. DJ felt like a criminal.

"So, it's like…" This was awful. Why not just slice his guts open and
lay them on the table for everyone to look through?

"So where is this going? You don't want to wash your socks? Is
that it?"

God, Joe looked hurt. DJ was fucking this up and this was so, so
important. He had to get this right. "Joe, no. I'm just… oh, fuck.
Somehow, in my head, it's like… See? I didn't say the words and
you're still here. So if I say the words, you'll leave."

Joe looked at DJ, his face by turns wounded, angry, mystified.
"Huh?"

"I told you it would sound stupid. I told you it wouldn't make
sense."

"No, you didn't."

"Yeah, I did."

"No. You didn't."

"I didn't?" DJ thought back. "Okay, I didn't. I should have. I'm
sorry." The room was so quiet, DJ could hear the second hand of
the clock ticking around and the whirring of the animatronic deer's
motor on the lawn outside. He'd said he was sorry, for Chrissakes.

"So. Where does that leave us? I love you, and you've got laundry
issues."

For someone with allegedly Italian blood, Joe could be amazingly
cool-headed. Must be all that banker's training.

"Joe." DJ approached cautiously. He and Joe had been together --
as lovers, as a couple -- for almost a year. Shouldn't that buy him
a little grace? A little slack? Taking Joe's hands in his, DJ squeezed
them for a moment, ran his hands up to Joe's muscular shoulders,
took Joe's face between his hands. After placing a slow, tender
kiss on Joe's mouth, DJ held his breath and jumped. "I love you.
Don't leave me."

Joe just looked at him. Breathing. Gazing into DJ's eyes, giving no
clue as to what he was thinking. "You are such an idiot. How could
you-? I love you. I want to fucking marry you, and you…" Was that
anger? Exasperation? DJ couldn't tell.

"For real? You want to, I mean… like…? Shut up. Marry me?"

"Yeah. I had something pretty romantic planned for Christmas Eve
night. There were going to be rings, and everything. Jesus. You're
hard to be romantic with sometimes."

"Oh, man." Little bubbles of happiness were floating up from DJ's
gut to his heart and, eventually, his head. He couldn't quite get his
head to accept it, though, afraid it would be snatched away at the
last minute. "It's not too late, is it? Please say it's not too late."

"Oh, look who's begging now. How would you like it if I put you
through what you just put me through?" The tone was still a little
edgy, but DJ thought things might be turning around.

"No, no. I was an ass. You're a saint to put up with me."

Finally a smile. Yes! Joe fell for the puppy dog eyes every time and
DJ was working them shamelessly.

"Yeah, that's me, St. Joe. C'mon, let's go." Holding out his hand,
Joe heaved a huge, theatrical sigh.

"Where're we going? See, I've just been fucked by a saint, so
you're going to have to go some to top that." DJ grinned,
everything working out better than he'd ever dared imagine.

"To get a tree."

"Why? I thought we agreed we weren't going to bother."

"The big romantic proposal requires one. And then we're going to
buy a new tie. There's no saving this one."

* * *