Easy For You

Easy For You

By Cassidy Ryan

“It’s true what they say, isn’t it?” Detective Jackson Cole looked up from the form he’d been laboring over for the last hour -fucking paperwork -- and saw Lizzie Roarke, the civilian aide, standing beside his desk, a wistful, faraway look on her pretty face. “What do they say, Lizzie?” He was paying scant attention to the young woman, determined to get his paperwork completed so that he could start his long weekend off as soon as possible. “All the best ones really are gay.” There was a sigh of regret in her voice. A Torquere Press Charity Sip - 1

Jackson coughed and raised an eyebrow pointedly. Waving a hand dismissively, Lizzie barely even looked at him. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a fine specimen of manhood, Cole; just looking at you makes my little heart skip a beat.” Her voice was so bland that Jackson had to laugh. “Gee, thanks.” Curious, he turned his head to look in the direction of Lizzie’s rapt gaze. At the other end of the squad room his lieutenant, Mike Brennan, was deep in conversation with assistant DA Ethan Rafferty. Paperwork forgotten for the moment, Jackson’s fingers went lax around his pen. “I take it you’re talking about Rafferty here? I mean, you haven’t suddenly developed a crush on the lieutenant?” As he spoke, Jackson’s eyes moved over Ethan Rafferty’s body: a well-honed, tightly muscled physique that his neatly tailored suit did nothing to conceal. “Lieutenant Brennan? Ew -- that’s just wrong, Cole.” Lizzie’s nose crinkled delicately to show her distaste. “Of course I mean Rafferty. Damn, just look at him; have you ever seen anything so edible in you’re life? Well, I suppose you don’t get it, being a man and all, but take it from me, that man is hot.” Jackson lifted his eyes to Rafferty’s face, and as he took in the smooth, tanned skin, the high cheekbones, full lips and green eyes framed by thick dark lashes, his stomach clenched so tightly it was almost painful. Oh, he got it alright. Ethan Rafferty wasn’t just hot, he was fucking scorching. “Oh well, I guess the straight woman’s loss is the gay man’s gain.” Lizzie sighed, managed to drag her eyes off the assistant DA, and went back to her duties. Jackson was only vaguely aware of her departure, his attention now firmly on Ethan Rafferty, watching the way his lips moved when he spoke, the gesturing of expressive hands, and the way the overhead lights picked out points of gold in his dark blond hair. Heat bloomed low in Jackson’s stomach and spread quickly through his body, chasing along his veins to make his extremities tingle, his skin flush, and settling heavily between his legs. His chest felt suddenly tight, and he had to grit his teeth to hold back the groan that rose in his throat. When Ethan Rafferty turned and his eyes connected with Jackson’s, the pen in Jackson’s hand snapped as his fingers tightened convulsively around it. A small, knowing smile lifted one corner of Rafferty’s mouth before he turned once again to Mike Brennan and held out his hand to shake the lieutenant’s. From under hooded lids, Jackson watched Rafferty leave, fingers itching to touch, mouth watering with the desire to taste. When the man vanished from sight, Jackson took a deep, restorative breath and tried to regain control of his body. Retrieving another pen from his drawer, he attempted to refocus his attention on the forms in front of him.

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An hour later he handed the completed forms to Lizzie for filing. She wished him a happy weekend and didn’t seem to notice how his handwriting had deteriorated from his usual confident scrawl into a barely legible chicken scratch. *** Jackson managed to avoid the worst of the rush hour traffic and let himself into the apartment at just after five. He shed his jacket and tie in the hallway, kicked off his shoes and socks in the living room, in the bedroom he lost his pants and shirt, and in the adjoining bathroom he let his shorts fall to the floor, crossed the cool tiles and opened the glass door to the shower. A cloud of fragrant steam wafted around him and he paused for a moment, waiting for it to dissipate, then stepped inside, a smile lifting his mouth. “So, Lizzie Roarke thinks I’m a fine specimen of manhood. I think she’s hot for my bod.” Turning his head and wiping the soap from his eyes, Ethan grinned. “Is that right? I could have sworn it was my ass she was checking out.” He looked over his shoulder, down his body in the direction of his ass. Jackson’s eyes followed Ethan’s, tongue coming out to lick his lower lip. “Well, if she was, I can’t say that I blame her -- it is a rather magnificent ass.” “Why, thank you. You can touch it if you want.” Ethan wiggled his hips playfully. Jackson moved closer, swallowing his laughter. “I won’t get boy cooties, will I?” “You won’t get anything if you don’t get a move on, stud; we have a ferry to catch at seven.” Ethan turned completely to face Jackson, brought his hands up to rest on Jackson’s chest, and leaned in until their lips were a breath apart. “Unless you’re not in the mood?” “Not in the mood?” Jackson wrapped his hand around the back of Ethan’s neck. “Are you kidding? I’ve been walking with a limp for the last two hours.” He tugged, bringing Ethan flush against him and crushing their mouths together. A groan escaped Ethan and he wound strong arms around Jackson’s body, hands clutching, grabbing. Jackson speared his fingers into the wet strands of Ethan’s hair, holding Ethan’s head steady while he parted Ethan’s lips and thrust his tongue inside. Ethan’s mouth was hot and wet and tasted of peppermint toothpaste. Jackson moaned his pleasure and pressed even closer, pushing until Ethan’s back was against the tile wall, their hips grinding together, frantically seeking release. Jackson tore his mouth from Ethan’s and they both gulped in air, flushed with need and the heat of the water. Jackson brought one hand up to Ethan’s face, smoothed his thumb over a sharp cheek bone and down to lips that were red and puffy from kissing. He gasped when Ethan turned his head slightly, gripped Jackson’s thumb with his lips and sucked it into his mouth, tongue swirling and teasing. If Jackson was aroused before, now he was almost painfully hard.

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His other hand went to Ethan’s chest, index finger circling one nipple until it was rigid. He grazed it lightly with a blunt fingernail until Ethan’s mouth dropped open and his head fell back against the wall. “Jackson! Fuck!” “Not yet.” Jackson laughed softly and let his hand fall, fingers trailing over Ethan’s tight abs, dipping into his belly button, then lower to cup Ethan’s straining erection. Ethan’s hands gripped Jackson’s shoulders tightly enough to leave marks, and tilted his hips to urge Jackson on. Jackson lowered his head to kiss and suck at the skin of Ethan’s throat, licking over Ethan's Adam’s apple and up to his ear. “I want to suck you.” It was a rough whisper, punctuated with a teasing bite to Ethan’s earlobe. “I want to take you in my mouth and suck you until you can barely stand. I want you to come down my throat, so hard that you forget how to breathe.” The rise and fall of Ethan’s chest told Jackson that his lover was already having difficulty feeding his lungs, but there was no lack of strength in Ethan’s hands as he pushed down on Jackson’s shoulders. “Yes! Do it, suck me. I want to fuck your mouth, Jackson, want to feel you hot and tight around me.” Ethan parted his legs, maybe to brace himself, maybe to make room for Jackson; probably both. Jackson went to his knees with a smile, one hand slowly stroking Ethan’s cock, the other on Ethan’s hip to keep him as still as possible. Curling his fingers around the satisfying girth of Ethan’s cock, Jackson looked up into his lover’s eyes and squeezed. Ethan groaned low in his throat and his pupils flared, black eclipsing the green iris. Sweeping his thumb over the tip of Ethan’s erection, Jackson collected a bead of pre-come and watched, mesmerized for a moment, as it trickled slowly down to the base of his thumb. His mouth watered with the need to taste, so he leaned forward and touched his tongue to Ethan’s slit, dipping it inside like a bee seeking honey. Ethan’s flavor exploded on Jackson’s tongue, and he felt Ethan’s hands tighten convulsively on his shoulders. He could tell from the trembling in Ethan’s muscles and the inarticulate sounds his lover was making that the man was fast approaching the edge, and Jackson’s own cock was throbbing, hard and curved until it was almost touching his belly. With one last lick to the tip, Jackson opened his mouth and took Ethan in deep, so deep that he could feel the head of Ethan’s dick touch the back of his throat. Ethan let loose with a stream of curses and clutched at Jackson’s hair tightly enough to be painful. Jackson ignored the sting of his abused scalp, hollowed out his cheeks and sucked on Ethan, his head moving back and forth as he worked Ethan’s pulsing length, tongue massaging the thick vein underneath. Ethan’s knees

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jerked, as if about to give out under him, but he remained upright, and Jackson tightened the hand on his lover’s hip just to be sure, while his free hand cupped and rolled Ethan’s balls until they were tight and pulling up against his body. “Jesus! I’m not… Jacks… not gonna last.” The sound of Ethan’s breathing was harsh, even over the drum of the shower on the stall floor. His knees were starting to bend and the trembling in his muscles was becoming more acute. Jackson released Ethan’s balls and slipped his hand further back, stroking the soft skin behind for a moment before moving on again. When he touched one finger to Ethan’s tight hole, Ethan gasped and his whole body went rigid. “No! Not without you. S-stroke yourself, Jackson, I want… I want to watch you get yourself off as I come.” At Ethan’s words, Jackson moaned. He dropped his hand from Ethan’s ass and wrapped it around his own cock. The first light squeeze zinged his brain with pleasure and he thought that he would come there and then, with the sounds of Ethan’s pleasure ringing in his ears. Sucking Ethan and jerking himself off was a bit awkward at first, kinda like patting his head while rubbing his stomach, but Jackson soon found his rhythm, and before long they were both moaning in unison, hips thrusting, dicks pulsing. When Jackson felt the tingle in his spine and the tightening of his lower belly, he went to work double time on Ethan, determined that they should come together. Their timing wasn’t perfect, but it was damn close. Just seconds after Jackson shot his first load over the tiled wall between Ethan’s calves, Ethan groaned and fired down Jackson’s throat, hands so tight now in Jackson’s hair that Jackson began to fear that he might be left with a bald spot. Jackson pulled back a little on Ethan, so that he could taste Ethan’s come on his tongue as Ethan pulsed out his last drops. When Ethan was completely drained, Jackson let the softening cock slip from his mouth, and Ethan, seemingly unable to stand a second longer, slid down the wall until he was sitting in front of Jackson, his legs curling around Jackson. “Holy crap, that was intense.” Ethan’s voice was hoarse, his eyes half closed. Jackson could only nod as his hand dropped away from his spent cock. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward so that his forehead was resting on Ethan’s shoulder, and smiled lazily when he felt Ethan’s hand stroke gently through his hair. The water was still beating down on them, washing away all traces of their activities. “I guess we should think about moving, if we want to catch the ferry.” Ethan continued to stroke Jackson’s hair, but made no other attempts at movement. Jackson nodded again. “Yeah, I guess,” He would have been more than happy to stay right where he was for the next couple of years at least.

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“Do we need to stop by your place to get your things?” He sounded as tired as Jackson felt, and the hand in Jackson’s hair had slowed, the movement soothing, almost hypnotic. “I have my bag in the car.” Jackson did nothing to conceal a jaw-cracking yawn, and Ethan laughed. “Come on, let’s wash up and get moving before we fall asleep right here. Do you suppose it’s possible to actually drown in the shower?” Jackson snorted, which was as close to a laugh as he could currently manage, and pushed up onto his knees. “Let’s not find out, huh?” He staggered up onto his feet and held out his hand to Ethan. When Ethan was standing before him, they shared a long, languid kiss that was more about connection than sex, then quickly showered under the cooling jets. *** Ethan stood at the rail on the upper deck of the bay ferry, tasting salt in the sting of the evening breeze. The temperature had cooled some, and he pulled his jacket a little closer. “Looks like you could use this.” Jackson appeared beside him, holding out a take-out coffee cup. Ethan didn’t have to taste it to know that it would be black with two sugars -- just the way he liked it. Ethan grinned and took the cup. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” “Yeah, my huge cock.” Winking lewdly, Jackson took a drink of his own coffee and leaned against the rail beside Ethan. “So, what were you doing down at the precinct today?” “I was talking to the lieutenant about the Tommy Barton case.” Beside him, Ethan felt Jackson flinch. “Tommy Barton of the East Side Skulls? Wasn’t Carl Kenyon handling that case?” Ethan could feel Jackson’s frown. Sipping at his coffee, Ethan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Carl’s out sick, in the long term I’m told. There are rumors about him having some kind of breakdown.” Jackson snorted, an angry sound. “More like the Skulls have been putting the frighteners on. They’re not going to let Barton go down without a fight.” Warmth bloomed in Ethan’s chest at the concern he saw in Jackson’s eyes, and he wanted to reach out and touch his lover, but he held back. Jackson wasn’t big on public displays of affection. Instead, Ethan offered a smile of reassurance.

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“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jackson sounded anything but as he scowled and leaned on the rail, looking

out over the water, tension evident in the tight set of his shoulders.

Ethan leaned on the rail beside him, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

“Why don’t we forget about Tommy Barton and Carl Kenyon for now? This is the first chance

we’ve had to get away together in ages, let’s just enjoy the weekend, huh?”

For a moment, Jackson simply looked down into his coffee, then his hand moved a fraction and

his pinkie brushed against Ethan’s. From Jackson, it was the equivalent of a full-blown

declaration. Ethan lowered his head to conceal the pleasure in his smile.

When the ferry reached Waverley Island, Ethan and Jackson retrieved Ethan’s BMW and joined

the line of cars heading onto the island for the Labor Day weekend celebrations, and a sense of

well-being washed over Ethan along with the salty breeze that drifted through the open window.

“Looks like the party’s already started.” Jackson was slouched elegantly in the passenger seat,

knees resting on the dash, fingers tapping out the beat of the music coming from the radio.

Ethan maneuvered the car through unusually heavy traffic on Main Street which looked like a

picture postcard with its red brick and clapboard shops and houses painted in pastel shades, old-

fashioned street lamps hung with baskets of flowers and -- in honor of the holiday -- more flags

and banners than Ethan had ever seen.

Lights glowed and music drifted from bars, cafés and restaurants, and sidewalk tables under

brightly striped awnings were filled with locals and tourists reveling in the holiday atmosphere.

At the end of Main Street the traffic started to thin out, and Ethan took the turn that led to the

beach road. Less than five minutes later he was pulling the car into the driveway of a small

cottage with an unobstructed view of the beach. He looked across the seat and smiled at the

tranquil expression on Jackson’s face, the small smile turning up the corners of the man’s mouth.

This was how Ethan loved Jackson best, relaxed and at ease with his world. It was like the

weight Jackson carried around in the city slid away from him the minute they rolled off the ferry,

imbuing him with a lightness of spirit and soul.

It wasn’t easy being a gay cop, even in this new millennium. Coming out could still affect a

police officer’s career, no matter how good he was at his job, so Ethan understood Jackson’s

need to be circumspect about his sexuality and their relationship. But not here. Here on the island

they weren’t ADA Rafferty and Detective Cole, forced to keep a professional distance. Here they

were just Ethan and Jackson, a couple.

They got out of the car, and while Jackson leaned back against his door, letting the evening

breeze drift over him, Ethan collected their things from the trunk and took them into the cottage,

smiling as he always did when he thought about the first time they had stayed here after buying

the place -- Jackson had insisted that someone should get carried over the threshold, and since he

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was “clearly the more manly man,” he had hoisted Ethan over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. They had gotten three steps into the cottage before Jackson tripped, dumped Ethan on his ass and fell on top of him. The small hallway was the first place they'd christened. Dropping the bags outside the bedroom door, Ethan carried the box of groceries he’d brought through to the kitchen and began to unpack them. He was putting the milk in the fridge when he felt Jackson come up behind him and wrap his arms around Ethan’s waist. Ethan leaned back against Jackson hard chest automatically. “You hungry?” “Depends what’s on offer.” Jackson lowered his head and bit lightly on Ethan’s earlobe. Tilting his head to the side, Ethan laughed breathlessly. “I thought we might go into town and have dinner.” Jackson eased a hand between Ethan’s legs, cupped his stirring cock and squeezed just hard enough to make Ethan gasp. “Or we could go through to the bedroom, I could suck your dick and fuck you until you pass out, and we could go into town for breakfast.” “Y-yeah, that one, lets do that.” Ethan turned in Jackson’s arms and pressed their mouths together, pushing so that Jackson started walking backward in the direction of the bedroom. *** Early morning sun shone through the open curtains, casting the room in a pale golden glow. Knees braced on either side of Jackson’s hips, hands resting on Jackson’s chest, Ethan rocked, eyelids heavy as he gnawed on his lower lip. Beneath him, Jackson gripped Ethan’s hips with hands gone slippery with sweat. He arched his body and pushed up into Ethan, breath coming in shallow pants, skin flushed with his impending orgasm. “Fuck! I’m gonna come, Ethan… can’t… can’t hold it.” Blunt nails dug into Ethan’s hips and Jackson strained against him. Ethan groaned and tightened his body’s grip on Jackson’s cock. “Come on, do it. Do it!” Ethan began to tremble as his own orgasm approached, balls drawing up close to his body, pre-come dripping onto Jackson’s stomach. With a growl, Jackson flipped them and powered into Ethan, hips snapping, breath hot on Ethan’s face. Ethan dug his fingers into Jackson’s biceps and raised his hips to meet every one of Jackson’s thrusts, rubbing his aching cock against Jackson’s stomach. They pushed and ground together until the room almost shimmered with the heat they generated, then… silence as they went rigid, muscles straining, hands clutching. Jackson collapsed on top of Ethan, gulping air into his lungs. “Holy crap!”

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Winded and laughing breathlessly, Ethan stroked Jackson’s slick back. “Yeah, pretty much.” They were quiet then, trading soft kisses and languid caresses for long moments, until Jackson’ stomach rumbled loud enough to rock the roof. He lifted his head and grinned down at Ethan. “You mentioned breakfast?” Ethan swallowed his laughter and pushed Jackson off him. “Way to kill the afterglow, douche.” A wide grin lifted Jackson’s lips where he lay sprawled on his back. “I’m a man of substantial appetites.” “You mean you’re ruled by your dick and your stomach.” Ethan slapped Jackson lightly on the thigh and rolled off the bed. “Come on, let’s get going; I want to get a window table at Callie’s so we can watch the parade. Jackson was off the bed and heading for the bathroom in seconds, muttering about banana toffee waffles. *** Callie’s Diner was right in the middle of Main Street, and the table Ethan and Jackson snagged granted them a perfect view of the whole street. Jackson inhaled his waffles like a teenage boy with the munchies, while Ethan ate his omelet at a more sedate pace, and over several cups of coffee they watched the parade pass by -- every kind of vehicle from children’s bicycles to a fire truck decked out in flowers and paper streamers, the high school band playing a slightly off-key rendition of the Star Wars theme while the cheer-leading squad performed an intricate routine that seemed to involve a lot of flashing of midriff and underpants, and trailing behind, a motley group of elaborately costumed people who looked, in spite of the early hour, suspiciously inebriated. What any of this had to do with Labor Day was a mystery to Ethan, but it was bright, colorful and cheerful; the perfect farewell to summer. When the parade had passed by, they went outside and followed the crowd down to the beach where the celebrations were soon in full swing, with picnics, loud music and rowdy volleyball and football games. By late afternoon, Ethan and Jackson had consumed more junk food than they normally would in a month and drunk enough soda to keep them caffeinated for at least that long. They found that they still had a little room for ice cream, though, so Ethan left Jackson sitting on a sand dune to go and buy them some. When he returned just minutes later, Jackson was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Ethan searched the crowd for his lover, but instead of finding Jackson, his eyes came to rest on another familiar face.

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Carl Kenyon smiled when he saw Ethan, and made his way through the crowd toward him. “Ethan, well, this is certainly a surprise.” Carl held out his hand for Ethan to shake, but Ethan just looked at his hands, both occupied with rapidly melting ice cream, and shrugged. “Hello, Carl. Yeah, it’s quite a surprise to see you, too.” Ethan was still preoccupied by Jackson’s absence, but not so much that he didn’t see just how healthy his colleague was looking -- not at all like a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Was Jackson right? Had Carl withdrawn from the case because Tommy Barton’s gang had thrown a scare into him? “Just taking it easy, you know? Doctor’s orders.” Color touched Carl’s cheeks, and he seemed unable to meet Ethan’s eyes. Oh yeah, breakdown my ass. Ethan wanted to question the man on it, find out exactly what he was letting himself in for by taking over the case, but it would have to wait, because he wanted to find Jackson more. “Uh, sorry, Carl, but I’m afraid I need to go find… my friend.” “Sure, sure, well, maybe I’ll see you around?” Carl was already taking a step back, looking relieved that he was getting away. Ethan simply nodded and turned away. He dumped the ice cream in a trash can, wiped his hands on a napkin and fished his cell out of his pocket. Jackson answered on the first ring. “Carl Kenyon’s here. I saw him on the beach. I don’t think he saw me.” There was a note of desperation in Jackson’s voice and Ethan felt his stomach twist unpleasantly. “Where are you?” Even as he asked, Ethan headed in the direction of the cottage. “I don’t think he saw me,” Jackson repeated, and Ethan could tell from the breathless quality of his lover’s voice that Jackson was moving -- fast. “But I decided to get the hell out of there, just in case,” he added. “I’ll meet you back at the cottage.” Ethan closed his phone before Jackson could reply. He felt suddenly quite sick, and it had nothing to do with the crap he’d been eating all day. Jackson was pacing the living room when Ethan arrived back at the cottage. Ethan leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “You okay?” It was a dumb question. Jackson looked more on the edge of a breakdown than Carl Kenyon had. “I don’t think he saw me…” “Yeah, you said that. Twice.” On the walk from the beach Ethan had become increasingly tense. Now, he felt strung so tightly that his muscles actually hurt.

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Jackson seemed oblivious to Ethan’s growing turmoil. He nodded and crossed the room. “Okay, okay, we can salvage this.” “Salvage?” Ethan didn’t move when Jackson made to pass him, forcing Jackson to stop and look at him. Nodding, Jackson put his hand on Ethan’s arm to get him to move. “Yeah, there’s a ferry in about half an hour; if we pack quickly…” “No.” Ethan pushed away from the door frame and entered the living room. “No?” A puzzled frown pulled Jackson’s eyebrows together. Ethan walked to the window and sat on the ledge. “We don’t need to leave, Jackson; we can just stay here, at the cottage.” “Carl Kenyon might not have seen us together today, Ethan, but let’s not push our luck, huh?” Jackson had squared his shoulders, the way he did when he was getting ready for a fight, and there was an impatient tone in his voice. Ethan didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Disappointment pressed down on him, threatening to crush him. To lose the island -- the one place where they had ever felt free to be a couple -- it was too cruel. Ethan felt the loss like a blade in his chest. “Would it really be so awful, Jackson, if people found out about us?” Ethan wasn’t above begging, if that’s what it took. For a second, Jackson’s face was blank, then his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “Don’t be an idiot, Ethan; it’s not a good look for you.” Something snapped in Ethan at that. Anger unfurled inside him and raced hotly through his veins. He got slowly to his feet, arms dropping to his sides where his hands curled into fists. “Idiot, Jackson? You think I’m being an idiot because I want to be honest with the world about our relationship?” He crossed the room to stand just a foot from Jackson. “You think it’s stupid of me to want more than hiding in the shadows, pretending that we’re nothing more than colleagues?” Jackson flinched. “No, of course not. I want that, too, Ethan, but it’s not that easy for me.” “Easy? You think this is easy for me?” Ethan laughed, but it held no humor. “Sure, it’s easy for me when we have to act like we mean nothing to each other. It’s easy when I have to lie to my family every time they ask me if I’m dating. It’s easy watching you leave my bed in the middle of the night to go back to your place just in case.”

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“Ethan.” Jackson reached out and laid his hands on Ethan’s shoulders. In turn, Ethan lifted his hands to cup Jackson’s face. “Don’t go, Jackson. Stay here with me.” Ethan watched emotions war in his lover’s eyes before Jackson shook his head. “I can’t; you know I can’t. Come with me, Ethan. Please.” Jackson’s hands tightened on Ethan’s shoulders, but Ethan shrugged them off and stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m staying, Jackson; with or without you.” There was a long, strained silence, then Jackson sighed and left the room. The house was so quiet that Ethan could easily hear the man go to the bedroom and pack up his things. When he appeared in the hallway again, bag slung over his shoulder, Jackson looked through the living room doorway at Ethan. His eyes silently pleaded, but Ethan turned away. *** Ethan knew the moment he heard the front door close that he wanted to go after Jackson, but he remained by the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring out blindly. As the evening wore on he slumped onto the sofa in front of the blank TV screen, music drifting on the silent air from the party still going strong on the beach. He fell asleep on the sofa sometime in the early hours of the morning, but it was a restless, fitful sleep, and he woke at just after six a.m. with a crick in his neck and in a pissy mood. The ferry sailed on Sundays, albeit a modified service, but Ethan stubbornly refused to pack up and leave, in spite of the fact that he was bored witless and stomping around the cottage like a child in a temper. He picked up the phone several times to call Jackson, but each time he ended up throwing it back down, with a muttered “Fuck ‘im.” He refused to acknowledge the hollow ache in his chest when Jackson made no attempt to call him. Monday came too soon, and yet contrarily, not soon enough. Ethan finally packed, locked the cottage up -- wondering when he would see it again, if it would be the same; would Jackson be with him? -- and caught the noon ferry that he and Jackson had planned to take. He stood at the rail and watched the island get smaller as it faded into the distance, and had to fight down the panic that threatened to overcome him at the thought that it was some kind of metaphor. It was late afternoon when he arrived back at his apartment building, miserable and numb with lack of sleep. The sight of Jackson sitting on the front steps of the building, looking just as tired and dejected, was like a jolt of electricity to Ethan’s system. He parked in his usual space in front of the building and got out of the car, but couldn’t seem to make his legs carry him any further. Jackson’s eyes widened when he saw Ethan, and he got up and came toward him, shoulders hunched, hands dug into the pockets of his jeans.

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“Hey.” Jackson’s voice was rough sounding, like he hadn’t used it for a while. “Hey.” Ethan nodded. Jesus, they had never been this awkward with each other. “What are you doing hanging around here?” Jackson shrugged, eyes flicking to meet Ethan’s, then away again. “I wanted to see you.” “You have a key, you could have waited inside.” Ethan leaned back against the car door as nonchalantly as he could. “Yeah, well…” Color tinted the skin over Jackson’s cheekbones. “After I acted like such a dick, I didn’t want to assume…” Ethan’s heart twisted at the regret he saw reflected in Jackson’s eyes. He wanted to take Jackson in his arms, tell him that it was okay; that it didn’t matter. But he didn’t. If there was one conclusion that he had come to, alone in the cottage, it was that it did matter. Three years of hiding mattered. Knowing that things might never change wasn’t okay. Sighing, Ethan pushed away from the car. “I think we need to talk.” Jackson nodded. “Yeah, I think…” When his voice trailed off, Ethan raised his head to look at the man, and found Jackson frowning, looking over Ethan’s shoulder. “What…?” Ethan turned to follow Jackson’s gaze, but caught nothing more than a glimpse of a dark car with tinted windows before Jackson had taken a near painful grip on his shoulders and was spinning him, pushing him so that Ethan went down, landing on the ground with an oof of expelled breath. A fraction of a second later there was a series of loud cracks, the distant sounds of screaming, and the squeal of tires. Jackson landed on top of him, and what air that was left in Ethan’s lungs was squeezed out of him. “Jesus, Jacks! What the fuck?” Ethan pushed at Jackson’s shoulders, but the man was a dead weight on top of him. Ethan’s grip tightened, and his right hand encountered something warm and wet. He withdrew his hand slowly as fear flared to life in his chest. When he looked at his hand it was both shock and yet no real surprise to find it covered in blood. “Jacks? Jacks? Jackson!” With mounting panic, Ethan pushed at Jackson with enough force to roll him over onto his back, and looked down to see a red stain blooming on the shoulder of Jackson’s sweater. Ethan scrambled to his knees over his lover, hands shaking as adrenalin raced through his veins. “Jackson, come on, man, open your eyes.” The stain was growing rapidly, so Ethan placed one hand over the area hoping to staunch the blood flow while he searched his pockets for his cell phone, feeling light-headed with the difficulty in breathing. He managed to find his phone, but a groan from Jackson made him jump, and the phone fell to the ground.

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“Jacks? Talk to me; damn it, man, open your eyes and talk to me.” Ethan leaned over him, pushing Jackson’s hair back from his face. With a flutter of eye lashes, Jackson’s eyes opened a fraction. “Ow!” Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Ethan’s throat. “Okay, I guess that counts.” He grabbed his phone, quickly dialed 911, and started talking before the operator got a chance to go into her spiel. “This is assistant District Attorney Ethan Rafferty. I have an officer down with a gunshot wound; he needs an ambulance now.” He rattled off his address, snapped the phone shut and turned his full attention back to Jackson. “How’re you doing?” Blood seeped through the fingers pressing on the wound, and Ethan tried not to give in to the panic clawing at him. Jackson attempted a nod. “M’okay. You okay?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m good, and as soon as you’re back on your feet I’m going to kick your fucking ass for playing hero like this.” Tears stung the backs of Ethan’s eyes when Jackson replied with a small smile. “I-I’m glad… you’re okay. Glad it was me…” Jackson’s lashes fluttered again, and his eyes drifted closed. Ethan kept pressure on the wound with one hand while his other rested over Jackson’s pulse, finding some comfort in the steady beat of it under his fingers. As he waited for the emergency services to arrive, Ethan became aware of people gathering around them, muttering like old ladies gossiping on their stoops. Ethan did his best to ignore them, but smiled when a teenage girl rolled up her jacket and gently placed it under Jackson’s head. Light years later, the wail of a siren cut through the air, and Ethan soon found himself being eased aside by paramedics. *** At the hospital, when Jackson was taken away from him, Ethan called Lieutenant Brennan to let him know what had happened. Brennan arrived a short time later, looking drawn and worried. Ethan told him what had happened, and after talking with the doctors, Brennan left again to get the investigation started -- although neither of them had any doubts that this was down to Tommy Barton’s gang members. Anger rose sharply in Ethan at the thought. He wasn’t going to run away like Carl Kenyon. He was going to put Tommy Barton away for the rest of his fucking life for this. If the lieutenant wondered why Jackson was at Ethan’s place, he didn’t ask.

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Jackson’s family lived two states away, so Ethan put off calling them until he had some solid information to give them -- and maybe just a little because it was a call he didn’t think any parent should have to receive. The bullet wound was a through-and-through, the surgeon who operated on Jackson told Ethan several hours later. In spite of the blood loss, the wound was not life-threatening -- Jackson would be out of action for a while, but he would make a full recovery. After hours of waiting and worrying, Ethan felt like he had been handed a winning lottery ticket. When Jackson was moved into a room, Ethan was allowed to go in and see his lover, and was surprised to find that Jackson was awake, if still a little dopey. The sheet was resting around his waist, and he had a bandage wound around his chest and across his shoulder. “You wanna play nursie?” Jackson wiggled an eyebrow, mouth curling up in a lazy grin. Ethan laughed, relief and residual fear warring inside him. “You are such a douche.” “Naw, I’m a hero -- you said so yourself.” Sitting on the edge of the chair by the bed, Ethan reached out and took Jackson’s hand between his, brushing his thumb over Jackson’s knuckles. “Yeah, you are; you saved my life.” Jackson curled his fingers around Ethan’s and gave them a surprisingly strong squeeze. “Had to. There wouldn’t be much point to my life without you.” “Jacks…” “Wait, Ethan, let me talk?” At Ethan’s nod, Jackson smiled again. “I behaved like an ass on Saturday; I wasn’t thinking, I just reacted. I had the rest of the weekend to think, and I found that I don’t like myself very much. I’ve been taking from you for three years and giving very little in return.” He shook his head when Ethan would have spoken, silencing his objections. “When I came to see you this morning, it was to ask you to forgive me, to take me back. I still had my doubts about us being an out couple, but when I saw that car window roll down, and that gun point at you, I knew in a split second just how much you mean to me. Every fear I’d ever had about people finding out about me -- about us -- vanished under the fear of losing you. I want to be with you, Ethan; no more shadows, no more hiding.” Ethan had to bite his lip to fight back the emotions swamping him. “Your job…” “Is nowhere near as important to me as you are.” Jackson’s fingers squeezed Ethan’s tighter and his eyes begged Ethan to believe him. “If my job goes to hell, I’ll still have you. That’s all that matters.”

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Ethan stopped fighting, and the tears fell freely, rolling down his cheeks to drip off his chin. He brushed his fingers over Jackson’s face and through his hair. “I’m going to make you so happy,” he promised. A huff of laughter escaped Jackson. “You already do, love.” He turned his head into Ethan’s caress and placed a soft kiss on his lover’s knuckles. The End.

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Easy for You Copyright © 2009 by Cassidy Ryan All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / September 2009 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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