Clang (6 page)

Chase was fucked.

He'd found it hard enough to resist flirting with Jackson
before
the gorgeous, intense, sweet man started to flirt with him. Now, it was damn near impossible. Hypersexual was a good description for Chase, but he hadn't cared before.

The one problem? Jackson had said in his dating profile that he wanted a relationship. Chase didn't do relationships.

Chase drummed his fingers on his sketchbook as they walked from the locked-up tattoo shop to Jackson's house. After the initial few moments of awkward silence, Jackson started to chat about tattoos he'd seen on people. Chase took the chance to describe a few common styles and locations.

It was comfortable enough, but there was much more tension in the air. When they looked at each other or their hands bumped, a jolt ran down Chase's spine. He could see Jackson's breath catch, too.

They reached Jackson's house within minutes. Chase hung back to flip through Jackson's portfolio while Jackson lit the forge.

“I'll show you a few common patterns and ways of manipulating the metal.” Jackson crouched in front of the box, watching the flames. “We'll see if we can find something you like. I have some ideas...”

“How long have you done this?”

“Oh, a decade. I started at seventeen.”

He's twenty-seven? Damn, no wonder he's in such good shape. He's in the prime of his life.
Chase watched with mixed arousal and fascination as Jackson chose a metal rod, then heated it, cut it in two, and twisted it to form a hilt-like shape before holding it back in the flames by a pair of huge tongs.

“I'm twenty-five,” Chase told him. “I've only been tattooing since I was twenty-one, though. Well, I started at eighteen, but I got licensed at twenty-one.”

“Four years' experience is still a long time if you're a good artist. Like you are.” Jackson kept his grip firm on the tongs as he turned with the glowing hot metal. He dipped one end in water, then screwed that end into a clamp. “So, I'm assuming this sword is for show rather than use. At least, I hope so. I do swords for medieval re-enactors, of which you'll find a lot in your fencing group.”

Chase shivered. “Ohh. Yeah, I'm not gonna stab people,” he promised. “I just want to... I don't know, feel more secure. I still wouldn't use it unless we're talking a life or death home invader situation.”

Jackson nodded. “All right. But you're not planning on swordplay in combat at reenactments?”

“No. Not at all.” Chase almost laughed at the idea of him trying to reenact anything from history. It just didn't interest him.

“Then I can make the hilt beautiful and only a bit functional.” He was twisting with his tongs, bending the metal around freehand. He made small, controlled movements until it swooped up, looped around, and came back down again. Then, four sharp twists around the center. “The blade would be here... you can come closer.”

The glowing metal was terrifying to watch even from the other end of the workshop. Chase swallowed hard and stood up, watching Jackson's expression soften with amusement. He jutted his chin out in response and walked around the table towards the clamped metal.

“That's it,” Jackson encouraged. “I won't let it drop on you,” he winked, stepping back and shaking off his gloves. He unbuttoned his collared plaid shirt to reveal his usual grey t-shirt and Chase resisted the urge to laugh. It was a bit like a Superman moment.
Supersmith, maybe.

Chase forgot about the glowing hot metal between them. Jackson's pecs rippled beneath clingy fabric. Chase itched to grab that shirt and pull it up for a better look. “Nice.”

Jackson laughed and Chase smirked, then looked back at the metal. “You're good at twisting rods.”
I wish I could say I hadn't meant that...
He licked his lips.

“I've had a lot of practice,” Jackson answered in a low, smooth voice. He slipped those firm, callused hands back into his leather gloves before picking up his tongs. Once he unclamped the metal, he brought it back to the forge, sliding the rod into the flames. “I haven't made a sword in a while. I might be out of practice.”

“If it takes you longer, it takes you longer,” Chase murmured. “I'm patient. It'll take me a while to come up with your design, too.”

Wood smoke was all he could smell, the hissing and crackling of the forge all he could hear. The tension crackled between them.

Then, Jackson turned, the metal clamped in his hand again, and dipped the end in water. He didn't even flinch as the water sizzled and hissed just under his hands.

Chase was starting to get uncomfortably aroused. Jackson screwed the metal into a clamp again, grabbing tongs and beginning to twist.

White-hot metal gave way like butter. Somehow Jackson's twists were precise enough or the metal cool enough that the metal didn't give way. It twisted perfectly, spirals appearing in the metal like they'd been etched there. “Oh, wow,” Chase breathed out.

Jackson grinned. “I like that reaction. I thought I'd go for something elegant and flowing. Match your tattoos.”

Chase ran a hand down his arm absently, over where he knew the lion was. He'd admired the curves and swoops in the design of the hockey player statue Jackson had done for the art show where they'd met. Seeing him make those curves in real life, albeit on a much smaller scale, was almost surreal.

Jackson didn't hesitate to grab his hammer or tongs. He reshaped bits of metal with smooth, controlled movements and intently focused eyes.

He focused completely on his work, his stance at the ready... His biceps flexed with the weight of the hammer in his hand... Sweat trickled down his back, gleaming on his forehead...

Chase could only imagine Jackson's bare body on the sheets, making love on a hot summer night.

He was half-hard already.
Fuck. As if I didn't just get laid the other day...
He shifted to adjust himself in his pocket, then resumed watching Jackson work.

“Something like... this.”

Chase swallowed and looked back at the hilt, which was condensed now. “Oh, wow,” he whispered. Somehow, he'd tuned out the last minute of Jackson's work completely. He'd been too focused on watching his body move fluidly with his tools, like he'd been born with them in his hands.

He burned for the same kind of firm, certain touches.

Now, the strands of metal swooped around each other in a tighter space. They were hammered closer together as the whole half-sphere of metal seemed shorter but wider, offering more space underneath. It was cooling off, back to dark grey all over with only hints of red lines along the insides of the twists.

“It's only a rough prototype--”

“I love it,” Chase whispered, his eyes lingering on all the details.

A smile broke across Jackson's face. “Yeah? We'll decide on the look of your blade and the grip next, then.”

Jackson loosened the clamp and set the metal aside on the table, then slipped his gloves off.

Chase instinctively picked up the portfolio to offer Jackson. Instead, he found Jackson stepping closer – into his personal space bubble. Jackson waited for just a moment, his eyes flickering between Chase's with the question.

Chase stepped closer, too.

Jackson's hand cupped his chin, his thumb resting against the edge of Chase's jaw. He leaned down the two inches that separated them and their lips met.

Oh, yes.

He hadn't been kissed like this in... forever. Jackson's lips were warm and soft, the grip of his fingers rough and firm.

Chase pushed himself against Jackson's body and crushed himself close to kiss Jackson
hard
. His hand rose to run up Jackson's back. Chase shivered at the muscles he felt even along Jackson's back and shoulder blades. He boldly rested the other hand in the curve of Jackson's lower back, just above his ass.

Jackson's hand closed around the back of Chase's head, then caressed his neck and shoulder. Chase could feel him, half-hard, pressing into his thigh through layers of jeans.

Chase wanted that.

He sucked on Jackson's lower lip, his eyes flickering open. Jackson's delicate lashes fluttered up close with distant pleasure as his chest rose and fell quickly.

Every time Chase flicked his tongue across the skin or nipped it, Jackson's breathing caught in his chest. It was fucking sexy to watch.

Chase ran one hand up along Jackson's stomach and chest now, taking his time to feel the hard muscles under his palm. Fuck, he was built like a Greek god. He slipped his hand under Jackson's shirt and Jackson shivered at first, then pressed forward into Chase's hand.

When his fingertips brushed Jackson's nipple, Jackson's whole body clenched for a moment. Their thighs pressed together firmly enough that he felt Jackson's cock twitching. That was the
sexiest fucking thing.

Chase wasn't ashamed to admit Jackson was getting to him more than any guy in recent history. He wanted to make Jackson feel good, take his mind off work and stress...

He gave Jackson a few last lingering kisses. Their teeth and tongues and lips worked together as they breathed hard. Chase's body burned with desire to be lifted off his feet and fucked by this man against the nearest wall. Instead, he shoved Jackson's chest until he'd backed him up against it. He dropped to his knees on the hard concrete floor.

“Oh, Christ,” Jackson whispered. His barrel-like chest heaved with arousal as he reached down to rub himself through denim. “You're so fucking
hot
, Chase.”

Chase grinned. “Sure that's not the forge?” It was hot in here, especially in the dead of August, but he didn't only want to strip down because of
that
. Watching Jackson's passion come out in every little movement had turned the simmering heat under his skin up to an uncontrollable boil.

“Funny.” Jackson sucked in another quiet breath. Chase unbuttoned his jeans, then slid the zipper down. Chase tugged them down a little, then pulled down the waistband. The base of his shaft came into view.

God, he was big.

The full length was well over his hand width, so he gripped the shaft and stroked it. The pink head gleamed. The rounded tip looked deliciously moist from grinding himself off against Chase's hip.

The distinctively salty taste of precome hit his tongue as he leaned in to run the flat of his tongue across the head.

Jackson kneaded his shoulders the whole time. Barely-restrained noises, probably stifled moans slipped through the air.

That was all the encouragement he needed to dip his head and run his tongue tip from shaft to tip, around, and back down again.

The velvety weight in his hand stiffened at the extra attention, going from half-mast to fully erect in almost the blink of an eye. The stiffening under his mouth and the very close-up view were the hottest.

Jackson's thighs tensed and his stomach tightened. His fingertips dug into the flesh of Chase's shoulder. The second time Chase did that, another quiet grunt escaped the back of Jackson's throat. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, biting back whatever words he had.

Chase scooted closer between Jackson's legs and knelt up a little straighter. Oh, the size of this delicious cock! When he licked back up to the head, this time, he closed his lips around the flushed head. He sucked at the sensitive slit for a moment, then kept his lips tight around the shaft. He bobbed his head down.

“Y-Yeah...” Jackson breathed out hoarsely. He kneaded Chase's shoulder rhythmically now. Fingernails dug into Chase's shoulder and he knew he was on the right track.

Chase took in the hot, throbbing shaft easily. He tilted his head just a little further with each inch to make sure it slid across his tongue to the back of his throat. He sucked in his cheeks, bobbing his head back up, then set into a quicker rhythm up and down the shaft.

Jackson's thighs quivered. He slid his hand up from Chases' shoulder to tangle in the hair at the back of Chase's head. He probably so desperately wanted to fuck Chase's mouth, but he stopped himself. His breathing came in short gasps as Chase sucked his cock.

Chase flickered his gaze up Jackson's body for the first time.

Sure, Jackson was stunning normally, but Jackson was indescribably beautiful leaning up against the wall, his legs spread. The back of one hand was on the wall above his own head. His biceps were rippling above his head, and his chest heaved. His gaze was focused on Chase.

“Mmm,” Chase moaned around the shaft, flickering his tongue around the head. He teased that sensitive spot underneath the shaft before continuing to draw his mouth up and down.

Jackson growled under his breath. His cock was throbbing, so hot and salty, with just a hint of bitterness. His hips kept moving in the tiniest jerks like he was forcing them back against the wall despite himself. Chase let one hand rest on Jackson's hip and tugged it. He kept his head still and glanced up at him to encourage him to move.

“You sure?”

Chase's eyes narrowed with amusement, but he kept his mouth wrapped around the base of Jackson's cock. His nose was buried in the hair at the base of the shaft.
My mouth's a bit full, you.