| Stef's Stuf |
| Courting Lennie: Chapter 2 |
| He crawled into the tent, stripped down to his longjohns and quickly dove into the sleeping bag for warmth. "I'm getting addicted to you," his lover said as they snuggled closer together in their joined sleeping bag. The camp was set up for the night, and their climbing equipment was packed safely away from the cold. It might freeze overnight, and they had set up their tent far from any possible avalanche paths. Indeed, they'd been fortunate to find a good spot under a peak of solid rock and surrounded by the last of the trees. Tomorrow they would reach the summit. It wasn't a difficult climb, really, but a very beautiful one. He felt his pleasantly sore muscles relax as his lover's hands moved over his body, finding their way inside his longjohns. The air in the tent was warming quickly, and, as he reciprocated with his own touches, his lover's body got warmer still. "I thought you were only addicted to climbing," he teased, "and that I was just a fringe benefit." "You know you're my favorite peak to mount," the man in his arms leered. Outside, a timber wolf's howl could be faintly heard. "Or would you rather do me?" "I don't care," He groaned, feeling cheated that he wasn't kissing his lover right now. "As long as we do it together, I don't care what it is." And then they did kiss, and he was amazed, always so amazed at the heat which completely flooded him as those lips pressed to his own. He was made for this, and his lover was made for it as well, fitting together with him so perfectly, their bodies, their interests, their characters. What they had seemed inevitable and correct, as though a scientific proof could demonstrate that they belonged together. Skilled hands were moving urgently now, leaving deep trails of warmth over his body. Somehow they would have to maneuver around their clothes and the bag and... "Ooohhh," he breathed as his cock pressed forward through the parting of all that cloth to find his partner's bare hip. They both squirmed, laughing, until they were pressed together, and all thoughts of more complex choreography melted away to leave only that basic and yet perfect thrusting, stimulating them, getting them ready to go right over the edge. His lover nibbled on his ear, and he thought he would simply explode. ... **** Lennie woke up as the orgasm shook him, gasping for breath. // Damn. Wet dream? THAT hasn't happened in a LONG time ...// Luckily he was wearing boxers; they'd go into the wash a lot easier than changing the sheets. He tried to grab onto the details of the dream before they disappeared. Climbing a mountain ... Him... Ah... That was funny, but not as funny as having sex with a man in a double sized sleeping bag while climbing a mountain. What had Jack said about vivid dreams? He wondered if Jack's dreams were as vivid as this one and with the same theme. Probably not, given Jack's reputation with the ladies, and yet Lennie knew he hadn't been living up to it lately. Claire's death had really hit him hard. Lennie started to wonder. Last night Jack had been much more emotionally open than usual, talking about the loneliness they both fought on a daily basis. And he had sat as far away from Lennie as possible, as if he were afraid of getting too close. And, several times, he had caught Jack watching HIM instead of the game. Sure as hell there was something going on in his friend's mind, something he wasn't quite ready to talk about yet. But could it be what he was thinking and if it was, what was he supposed to do since he wasn't entirely sure he wanted anything to happen? He wasn't entirely sure he didn't want anything to happen either. The question was: Was his detective's instinct picking up clues or was his subconscious making him seeing things where there weren't any? "Can't think about it with my boxers wet, " he concluded solemnly, rolling out of bed and heading toward the shower. **** Jack was feeling much better Saturday morning. Almost himself again. That is, except for the twisting in his gut from his nervousness about today. He knew he couldn't take much more of this - he had to find some way to figure out if Lennie could handle a come-on. Just before the 1PM tip-off, Lennie showed up on his doorstep with his arms full of grocery bags laden with chips, dips, sodas, and other munchies. Jack had been glad to take some of the bags and deliver them to the kitchen table; one look at Lennie and his heart had started racing. // Damn it, McCoy, get a hold of yourself! // He stashed the sodas in the fridge, grabbed a couple for now, and joined Lennie in the living room. Lennie noticed the redness in Jack's face as he rushed off with the sodas. He had dug out a first round of munchies and parked them on the coffee table. If Jack wanted to reach them he'd have to sit on the couch with Lennie. // This should be interesting. // Jack realized the seating arrangements necessitated by the snack bar, and wondered if Lennie was testing him. He forced himself to casually hand Lennie one of the sodas and sit beside him on the couch. He was too aware of the nearness of that warm body, so he tried to focus his attention on the TV instead. They quickly got wrapped up in the fast-moving game, shouting at the refs, pigging out on the munchies, a typically testosterone-laden Saturday afternoon. Jack actually managed to relax by the end of the first period. As the talking heads took over during the break, they actually had a chance for some conversation. "So how are you feeling today, Jack?" "A lot better. Almost normal, even." "Good. Still up for getting out tonight?" Jack grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Lennie." "Maybe we can even pick up a couple of ladies tonight ...?" Jack's heart froze; that was NOT what he wanted to hear. "I don't know, Lennie. It's been so long, I don't think I even know any pickup lines anymore. And besides, who would want a couple of old fogies like us?" Lennie grimaced. "Ain't that the truth. I'm too old for the kind of gals I'd like, too young for the kind that likes me." "And there go our reputations." "Down the drain, it looks like." "Yeah." They both nodded and chuckled. Lennie said, "Sometimes I envy Mike." "Logan? Why?" "He packed and moved to Maine last week." "What's in Maine?" Jack asked. Lennie waited a few seconds to emphasize the point and enjoy Jack's reaction. He nonchalantly said "A job as county sheriff... and Ben Stone". Jack choked on his soda. "What?" "Yeah. They were having an affair before Stone left New York and now they've decided to pick up from where they left off." "You're kidding me." "Nope. I helped Mike pack a couple weeks ago. Nobody was more surprised than me when Mike asked me to be his best man at their wedding." "Wedding? They're going to get married? "So it seems." "I can't believe it... Well maybe Stone. He has always been a bit on the soft side, but Logan... " "Well, Mike's bi. Everybody knew it." "I didn't." "You didn't look enough or didn't know where to look." "It didn't bother you when you worked together?" "A bit in the beginning, but in the long run, no, it didn't bother me at all. Unfortunately, it bothered him. You remember how he flushed his career down the drain. Nothing would have happened if he were a bit more at ease with himself at the time. Anyway he's at ease now and he and Stone came out of the closet and burned their bridges behind them real good on their way to Maine." Jack shook his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "World's getting stranger by the minute. They make such an odd couple..." "You can say that! But they both seem happy now, and I guess that's all that really matters." Lennie noted that smile, wondering exactly what it meant. Jack seemed surprised by his news, but certainly not offended in any way. And he sure hadn't been interested in finding any female companionship; shot that down hard. It was looking more and more like he had a decision to make... Lennie's news about Mike and Ben had certainly been unexpected. Jack started to wonder just how much was going on around here that he managed to never notice. He really had been burying himself in the job too much. Lennie certainly wasn't offended by the idea of two men together, but the million dollar question remained - was he interested himself? And how was Jack going to find out? **** The game started up again, ending the conversation. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching the game and NOT talking about what was on both their minds. When the game ended, they decided that an afternoon of snack food left them both craving a real meal. They decided to head over to the pub early to grab some burgers and maybe get a pool table before the big evening crowd arrived. When he finally got out of the apartment, Jack heaved a big sigh. "Free at last!" Lennie laughed. "Cabin fever?" "Whatever gave you that idea?" They walked the couple of blocks to O'Malley's, enjoying the brisk fall air. It had warmed up a bit since Jack's last venture outside. "Now this is more like it. Last week felt more like winter than fall." Lennie grinned. "Yeah, and you didn't even have to be out in it most of the time. I did." They continued to chat about the weather, why after 25 years in New York Jack still was a Chicago fan, anything innocuous. But once they got to O'Malley's, Lennie decided to push a little. Just to see Jack's reaction, he flirted with the waitress who brought their dinner, and was rewarded with an icy glare that he was sure Jack wasn't even consciously aware of. By the time they were done with dinner, Lennie was sure he had to make up his mind. He was curious, but he had no idea if he would even respond. The place was starting to get crowded, so Jack paid their dinner bill while Lennie went to claim a pool table. Jack wasn't a bad player, but no real competition for Lennie. So to make it interesting, Lennie had started teaching Jack instead of just playing against him. He racked the balls for a game of 8-ball and waited for Jack to join him. "Your break. Remember what I said about lining up the shot." Jack nodded. He had noticed Lennie flirting with the waitress and was actually feeling jealous. His earlier nervousness was gone; right now he was determined to command Lennie's attention. His break shot sent the balls caroming all over the table, sinking the 6-ball. He made several more excellent shots, using all the tricks Lennie had been teaching him; he was clearly showing off. Lennie watched him from the sidelines, the coach intently studying his pupil. Except this time he wasn't just noticing how Jack held the cue stick, he was noticing how those long legs turned into such a nice ass. He felt the first stirrings of something in his groin. Maybe there was something here after all... Jack finally missed a shot, and Lennie came back to his coach role. "OK, you know WHY you missed that?" Lennie leaned in and reset the balls. "Line it up again." Jack leaned over the table, lining up the cue. Lennie leaned over him and reached over to adjust the angle of his elbow. "Here..." It was like a lightning bolt shot through them as their bodies touched. They both froze for a moment. Lennie recovered first and backed away. "Keep your elbow out, use your wrist to power the shot." His voice wasn't too steady, but it was enough. His doubts about responding were gone, and he was wishing he had thought to wear a looser pair of jeans. Jack caught his breath and forced himself to relax. That touch had been like fire. He straightened up and turned to look at Lennie. "Do it." Lennie commanded. Their eyes met, silently acknowledging what they had just felt. Jack took a deep breath and turned back to the table, sinking the shot. Suddenly the game had turned serious; the next shot he missed, Lennie took over and cleared the table. Jack wasn't giving up. "Best two out of three?" Lennie looked at him, an eyebrow cocked high. "You think you can take me?" "I can sure as hell try." Having already won the first game, Lennie knew all he had to do was run the table and Jack wouldn't even have a chance. But he had to admit he wasn't at his best right now, his concentration kept wandering. He tried to focus, and took the break, sinking several balls. He had solids. He stalked the pool table, taking his time, finding the best shots to set him up two, three shots in advance. He had almost run the table when at the last minute he caught a glimpse of Jack out of the corner of his eye, licking his lips as he watched Lennie attack the table. It was enough to throw Lennie's timing off; he missed the shot. For some reason, it became imperative to Jack that he win; he had to beat Lennie at his own game. His competitive nature took over and he took his shot, sinking the 9-ball. Lennie had sunk the 10 in the break, along with several of his solids, so Jack had 5 more shots then the 8-ball. He concentrated, and took out the 15, then the 12 and 11. He was in a zone. The 14 sank, and finally the 13. Now the 8 ... yes! He looked up, grinning in triumph. A crowd of people had started to gather around, sensing the tension around this particular table. Lennie was well known here, they wondered who it was who could challenge their resident shark. Lennie stood back, holding his stick in his hands, watching closely. His eyes met Jack's and saw the challenge there. He nodded and smiled. You could cut the tension with a knife. Jack racked the balls for the final game. This was it; he knew he had to run the table. If he gave Lennie any chance at all, he'd lose. He took a deep breath, and took the break. Only managed to sink one, a solid. Enough. He worked the table, remembering to always think about where the cue would be after the shot to set up for the next. Three more balls sunk, but then he miscalculated. The cue ended up halfway across the table from where it should have been. The crowd let out a communal "Oh!" as they realized he had no good shot. He looked up and saw the predatory gleam in Lennie's eye, knowing that he had just beaten himself. He walked around the table, searching for any option that he might have a snowball's chance in hell of making. There was one remote possibility... he lined up the shot, took a deep breath, and let it go. A three-cushion bank, a very tricky shot, and he missed by only a fraction of an inch. The crowd let out another "Oh!" as he backed off and gestured Lennie to the table. Lennie felt the relief coursing through him; Jack had come way too close on that last shot - he'd taught him too well! As he walked to the table, his arm brushed against Jack's and they stared at each other for a moment before moving on. The tension between them was almost unbearable; the tightness in his groin, excruciating. He willed his nerves to calmness and focused on the game, sinking 6 balls in quick succession. With only one ball to go before the 8, he slipped, not giving the cue quite enough power. The 12-ball hung on the edge of the pocket, holding the observers in suspense for what felt like minutes before it finally went in. Lennie joined in the communal sigh of relief and easily sank the 8 to take the game. The crowd cheered then began to disperse. Jack was sitting on a stool by the bar, watching. For just a moment, he'd had a ray of hope. He'd come so close... Lennie came up to him, getting way too close. That predatory gleam was still in his eyes, and his hand was gripping Jack's arm. "I think we should go home now, don't you?" Jack swallowed hard. "Yeah." Continue on to Chapter 3 Send us some feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC; we're just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |