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There was a clear hierarchy on the playground that Jake observed. There were those parents who stumbled backwards into someone fucking them long enough to have a baby together: the schlubs, the losers, the men and women clearly not putting in a lot of effort. They’d gotten lucky, in more than one sense of the word, and now they thought they had the right to never look fuckable again. Then there was the ever-fuckable crowd: the ones who stirred up some dormant baby-making desires even in Jake himself. Yoga pants, cute little tops and bouncy pony tails on the women. Sculpted arms, dark narrow eyes and broad shoulders on the guys. These were the parents whose fuckability was only momentarily dimmed by the unfortunate way that kids saddled any person: by making them do things like stand around in a suburban playground like a complete dolt, saying things like ‘there you go, Oliver!’ or ‘watch your step, Kelsey!’
Jake himself naturally fell into the second category. He was an ever-fuckable parent, although strictly speaking he wasn’t a parent at all. He was just taking his niece out, and since she didn’t speak a word of English–another tragic failing by his sister Lucy–to outsiders he might appear like a loving father. But he wasn’t either, loving or a father. His niece was a precocious little shithead whose sing-songy fluent Swedish annoyed the hell out of him. She had pretty much singlehandedly made sure he’d never become a father himself.
“Ain’t she a cutie,” one of the yoga pants moms told him, eyes twinkling when Jake’s niece–Lindsay? Lindy? Lin-something?–climbed the monkey bars with a redheaded boy, presumably birthed from Yoga Pants’ loins. She tilted her head, pony tail swishing to the right. “Where’s her mom?”
“Died of gonorrhea,” Jake said, squinting at her face. She was attractive, but he wasn’t interested.
“Oh my god, that’s terrible.” Yoga Pants’ mouth opened in shock. “I thought that one was one of the curable ones.”
“Apparently not,” Jake said lightly. “Well, I do now really regret fucking her sister. If I’d known she had super gonorrhea, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten my dick wet. Not that it didn’t make the first family Christmas a little more bearable.”
Yoga Pants’ expression fell. She knew he was fucking with her, but even if he wasn’t, she wasn’t about entertain him any longer. “Tommy, let’s go to grandma’s now,” she told her kid.
“Why does your daughter speak a made up language?” the redheaded boy asked Jake as Yoga Pants hustled him away.
“You’re very uncultured, Tommy,” Jake told the boy and turned towards his niece, who looked heartbroken by the sudden departure. Ah, young love.
“Why did the boy leave, uncle?” his niece–Linnea, oh yeah, that was her name–piped up. Her hair was that typical Scandi-flaxen blonde, same as Jake and his sister Lucy. Her nose was freckled and her eyes were the same narrow shape and green color as her idiot father’s was. Jake’s and Lucy’s were a flat, pale blue, which had worked in Jake’s favor in the past. His eyes had made him seem innocent, especially when he wasn’t.
“He’s racist, dear,” Jake told her.
“What’s that?” the four year old asked.
“It’s when you hate people who are different from you.”
“Is that why you went to prison, uncle?”
Oh shit. Lucy with her big fucking mouth, huh. It was lucky that Jake didn’t know the word for embezzlement in Swedish and Linnea wouldn’t know it, even if he himself did. Their mother had been a lovely little woman who’d made sure they both knew her mother tongue fluently, but there were always going to be gaps where Jake’s brain stuttered and switched to English.
“No, dear. Your uncle got mixed up with some bad men who stole all his toys and ratted him out to even worse men, also known as the police. And then your uncle enjoyed state-sponsored meals for four years, ratted out more of his friends who stole his toys, got out, got a new name and started selling houses to stupid rich people.”
Linnea frowned at him. “I made a prison from my blanket for my teddies the other night. Then I went to sleep.”
Jake smiled at her. “Good for you, squint. I slept with a shank for four years. No teddies.”
“Why didn’t that boy want to play with me?” she insisted.
“Trust me, there will be other boys to play with.” Jake looked around the park. If she made a friend with some kid from a particularly fuckable parental unit, he’d allow it. They might even have play dates, sleepovers–now there was an idea. Lucy would have all the spa days and date nights with her dumb lunk of a husband Anders Andersson.
She’d moved to Sweden to study when Jake went to prison. Even though she wrote letters to him, most of them didn’t make it past the mailroom because Americans didn’t trust Swedish and apparently nobody could be bothered to run it through a translator to find out she was just gushing about her new life in Sweden. She met a wealthy app developer dude, married him and moved to California when Linnea turned three so her Swedish husband could become even more rich. Jake was out on bail at that point, and since Anders believed strongly in second chances, he and Lucy helped Jake get a new foothold on life by becoming a real estate agent.
Wasn’t that nice? Now he could con people legally, and wear a nice suit while doing it. He worked for an agency run by a woman named Andrea, who used to do gangbang porn, and the only other agent she employed was Pitr, a tall guy, who also used to do gangbang porn, albeit the gay kind.
Just him and the pornstars, hawking houses in Southern California. Life was beautiful.
Jake was so fucking bored of it all. He was just about to take a turn and take Linnea to a burger joint for a fries and a juice box when he saw a little black-haired boy playing by himself at the far end of the park in the sandpit. Next to him was a certified fuckable parent: a similarly black-haired man with tattoos snaking down his nicely formed biceps, a tight black t-shirt molding over broad shoulders, a stubbled jawline and wearing the sexiest grey sweatpants, highlighting an absolutely magnificent ass.
This guy looked hot and a little bit dangerous, and Jake really wanted some danger in his life right now.
“Hey Lin,” he told his niece. “Go play with that kid over there. He looks nice.”
Her face lit up and she ran over to the little boy. He looked up at her befuddled as she crouched down and started shoveling sand into his toy pick-up truck. But then his expression relaxed and as she began explaining every action of hers in Swedish, he mumbled in some other language. Something harsher and softer at once than Swedish. Slavic, maybe?
“Look at them go,” Jake told the black-haired guy, giving him a once over as he got closer. He really was a dish. Dark furrowed brows, thick forearms, nice big hands. If he was into dick, Jake had hit upon a goldmine of fuckpotential. If he wasn’t, well, mayhaps he could be persuaded. Jake had sucked a straight dick or two, and while the crisis afterwards was annoying, he could put up with it for this guy.
“Very cute,” the guy agreed, watching the two kids play despite not sharing a language. He rolled his r’s nicely, definitely Slavic.
“Jake Quinze.” Jake offered a hand, and the man took it.
“Mi-michal,” the man said. “Strzalkowski. Polish.”
The handshake was nice, strong and steady, but the stuttering on the name was an old tell. Fake name? Jake grinned at the man. “Michal, great name. My daughter is named Linnea, but we only speak Swedish to one another.”
“Same,” Michal said. “Only Polish for me and Sasha there. We just moved here, for my job.”
Jake studied him, the way his gaze never quite landed on Jake, like he was afraid of it. Something was going on there for sure, but maybe, he thought optimistically, it was only the flare of burgeoning desire that his presence stirred in Michal. His accent was faint, only detectable in his rolling r’s and flat v’s.
“Great to have you here,” Jake told him. “If you need a house, I can give you my card.”
“We already have a house,” Michal said. “Well, an apartment. It’s enough, I think, for two?”
Jake nodded, noting that his fingers were bare. This meant there was no Mrs Strzalkowski, which meant one less obstacle for him. They watched the kids play silently for some minutes. “How are you settling in?” He glanced at Michal as he’d folded his arms. “You clearly found the gym, my man.”
Michal’s mouth pulled into a grin. “No gym, just weights at home, Sasha keeps me too busy to go anywhere. Then I have this new job–” He looked up and said something to the kid, whose little face crumpled. “We should go, actually.”
“I’ll give you my card,” Jake said quickly. “You can text me the next time you guys hit the park. At least little Sasha will have company. It’s so important that kids learn how to play together nicely.”
Flashbacks of him wrestling Lucy as kids so hard her arm popped out of its shoulder joint and she’d screamed murder about it. That had been a fun afternoon.
“Yes, yes, maybe,” Michal said, and slipped the card into his pocket. “No promises, though. This job I took, not sure if it will stay in one place. You know, it can change any moment.”
Jake narrowed his eyes, but nodded jovially. “Of course, man, you gotta go where the work is.” His hand landed on Michal’s shoulder. “Great to meet another single dad, truly.”
Michal’s brown eyes flicked up to his and then back down. His mouth was a flat line. “Absolutely. Great to meet you, Jacob.”
“Jake, please.” His hand fell off the warm cotton stretched over Michal’s shoulder, the touch far too lingering, just so he could test it. Michal looked back up at him, eyes settling on Jake’s. A zing went through Jake’s entire being and ended in a curious twitch of his dick.
Yes, this was definitely fucking happening, even if Michal coyly dropped his gaze again and the moment was over. He picked up little Sasha and off they went, closing the gate to the playground behind them.
“His name was Sasha,” Linnea said forlornly.
“You’ll be seeing him again, don’t worry. Let’s go get some burgers,” Jake told his niece and tolerated her inane prattling for the next hour at the burger joint.
When the text arrived the following evening, it was just a picture of a carpeted room floor with some metal weight plates on it, and the caption: Gym.
Jake smiled to himself. He was going to nail this dude, for fucking sure.
Dangerous, Micha thought, getting to know someone. But it might also be fun, and when was the last time he’d had any of that in his life? Sasha was happy, too, talking about the little blonde girl all evening long. For a three year old he didn’t say much, but his simple sentences about how she was nice and she was now his friend told Micha enough about the situation. For the first time in ages, Sasha didn’t wake up with a start and a loud scream in the middle of the night, and instead Micha got up to go to the bathroom and watch over him, making sure he hadn’t kicked off his little blanket.
The poor kid had gone through a lot, and Micha did his best with what he had. The job at the junkyard hadn’t lasted and the one at the wholesaler wouldn’t last, either. The friendship with the little girl who didn’t even speak English–that part was good–might not last, what with the curious way her dad eyed Micha up.
He sent a photo of his weights, expecting no response. This American guy, Jake, was too normal for him, too earnest. A single dad who wore designer clothes, a successful real estate agent. Bilingual and blond with a big white grin every time he looked at Micha. Probably looking to bro out over a beer while their kids played little league together. Simple uncomplicated American suburbia–not the life he could ever lead.
Micha was a foreigner, but he’d been in the States for a long time, but living among his family he only knew the life they lead; the places they went, the way they saw the country they lived and worked in. Back in the old city he’d made some friends, but they had mostly been expats, too and working in the same field as he’d had when he’d worked for his uncle’s business. His accent was almost gone, but the longing for a home wasn’t.
God, he did need something. When the American Jake texted him back, he felt a familiar warm kick in his stomach, like a car revving to go up a gear.
For Sasha he’d give this a try. For little Sasha, he had to do everything he could.
Masquerading as his niece’s father was a lot more complicated than Jake had expected it to be. When Michal hit him with a simple question about Linnea, he floundered.
“When was she potty trained?” Michal looked at his own hands. He was an awkward guy, big and wide, but he never seemed quite comfortable enough in his own skin.
“You know, I don’t know if she ever was,” Jake said, and Michal laughed at it like he’d made a joke. “She just picked it up like that.” Jake snapped his fingers, and Michal laughed some more.
“Sasha used to have accidents at night time, you know?” Michal looked pensive for a moment. “Since we moved here, though, it stopped. He’s–better. I think he likes it here.”
“Well, it’s a great place, and kids do need that kind of stable living. That’s why I’m always trying to cut back on my hours at work, be there more for little Lin. Watch her grow up as much as possible.”
What a bunch of bullshit. Was this the kind of mental rubric parents were genuinely supposed to adopt? Living their life for some bratty kids, earning less and spending all their free time doing mindnumbing activities like watching the rugrat play or trying to prevent them from running into oncoming traffic. Jake wondered if he should get snipped to make sure none of this life ever found him and consumed his existence. He could always abstain from fucking women, who had an annoying tendency to get way too attached as it were.
All that said, it wasn’t terrible. Most of the time the two kids played by themselves and played nicely, too. They didn’t need to be refereed like Jake and his sister had to be, growing up. Linnea even sprinted up to give Sasha a hug as soon she noticed she’d accidentally kicked some sand into his lap. They seemed to forge this instant connection, and Jake enjoyed observing it. Just two little brats, overcoming language barriers and cultural ones, and making sand cakes together.
Then there was Michal.
His new friend kept things close to the vest, Jake had noticed. Questions about Sasha’s mother only lead to a confusing non-answer about her not being around anymore. Michal didn’t wear a ring. Was she dead? Had he killed her? Jake had met some killers, some darksided fuckers, along the years. Michal didn’t seem the type, but that wasn’t saying much. People hid all kinds of dark things.
Occam’s razor, maybe he was just dumped because he was a loser who worked a low paid job and she got a meal ticket with a rich man. Maybe he couldn’t get hard in bed due to his latent homosexuality, a problem Jake could probably fix in a night if given the opportunity. Maybe she didn’t like being a mom and bounced out when she finally could. Jake preferred his own versions of the story.
His eyes followed the long line of Michal’s body, his legs stretched out in front of him. God, he was fucking hot, but he was also so fucking nice, and Jake didn’t really deal with nice. Nice people could be exploited, so that was always a little tempting. He was fine with the lying–after all, lying was how he lived his life, breathed and ate and slept. But the nice part? Well, that posed a minor problem. Nice people tended to get so goddamn aggrieved when they found out they’d been lied to. But Jake could play the long con, if it meant getting his dick sucked by a Slavic gym god.
They were sitting on the park bench, watching the two kids move from the sandpit to kicking around a soccer ball that Linnea had insisted on bringing. Linnea passed the ball quite effortlessly, while Sasha was a bit more uncoordinated, shooting the ball wherever and never making sure Linnea got the ball. Jake had to admit she had a talent; maybe she’d go on to become a soccer player. He should probably let his sister know about that.
“They really have fun together,” Michal commented.
The two of them could also have fun together, but Jake was still determined on playing it cool. He’d managed to get some basic facts out of Michal, things such as that he’d immigrated here a decade ago, used to live in Brooklyn’s Polish area and now worked at a grocery wholesaler just outside of town. He’d learned that Sasha was in daycare and that Michal’s neighbor sometimes looked after him if Michal had to work late. Sasha was three and a half, just eight months younger than Linnea, and spoke Polish better than English. In fact, he barely spoke English.
“Doesn’t trust English, you know,” Michal had said and shrugged, like that explained everything. “Only family, so better with Polish. That’s why it’s good the daycare also has a Polish employee, I got very lucky with that.”
“Same with Linnea, you know, Swedish is the language of the heart for both of us.” More bullshit, but Jake was becoming a pro at sounding like a grade A parent. Maybe he should give his sister some tips.
She was not very susceptible to his great parenting advice, though. Hadn’t he done a lot for the little pipsqueak? Most uncles did fuck all. By acting like Linnea’s parent, he almost kind of was her parent.
They met again in her ludicrously large house when Jake went to drop off Linnea. Even for a growing family, the house felt too big and too rich, all tasteful decor, Scandinavian wooden furniture and greige on the walls. Jake hated the place even though he sold ones like it every day. It just spelled out too bluntly the difference between them: Lucy the sophisticated and educated one who'd married up, Jake the ratty excon who lucked into a position where his charm counted for more than actual talent. It wasn’t his fault all his talents lay in illegal activities. What were his options at thirty-five? Get a degree? He had tried it in jail, but all that reading made his skin crawl.
“Jakob,” she said gravely after Jake presented her with his grand idea. “You are not having my child over to your house.”
“Wow, you’re so homophobic,” Jake told her. “And stop using my actual name. You’re not mom.”
Lucy glared at him. “I’m not homophobic, I’m you-phobic. You can’t be trusted with a child overnight. What if something happens to her?”
“We live in one of the safest enclaves in the state, Lucy. I think I’m the only criminal she’s going to be within ten feet of at any given time. This is about you not trusting me to do anything right. I’ve looked after her for a full afternoon just fine for ten times now, haven’t I?” He looked to Anders for support. Good ol’ Anders, dumb as a piece of wood. “She doesn’t believe in the reformative power of prison, am I right?”
Anders looked at his wife, pleading. He could always be relied on to have Jake’s back, and at least so far Jake hadn’t broken that trust. He’d been tempted to get some of Anders’ fortunes into an investment scheme or something, but that was an idle fantasy. Having an ally against Lucy was far, far more beneficial to him than mere money at this juncture.
“Lucia, he’s come so far in life. Andrea says he’s done really good work with her toughest clients. He knows how to sell houses.” Anders shrugged and looked back at Jake, like that was as far as he could argue. She truly had his sack in a vice. Jake felt bad for him, although not as bad as he felt for himself.
“I've come so far in life, yet still judged for my past,” Jake said. “By my own sister, no less.”
Lucy’s face remained a storm. “It’s not happening. What’s your scheme here, Jake?”
“There’s no scheme. I met a polite, nice single dad whose kid gets beautifully along with mine. I mean yours.” He flashed Lucy his most apologetic grin. “See, she already feels like one of my own. She’s such a little gem. Did you know how great she already plays soccer so well?”
Anders raised his eyebrows. “Football? We could start that as an after school activity, but I tend to work so late–”
“Her loving uncle can always pick her up and drop her off,” Jake said. “What uncle wouldn’t want to foster and hone her talent?”
Lucy narrowed her eyes and pinched her mouth shut, but Anders went over to her and put his hands over her shoulders in a gentle, soothing gesture. “Jake has been of help, you have to admit.”
“Thank you!” Jake said. “Finally, a modicum of recognition.”
“She does really like spending time with you,” Lucy admitted. “And it’s not like we know anyone else in this area who we trust enough to let babysit her. But that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to take her overnight.” She looked at him severely. “And that’s final.”
Sounds like her sex life with her husband was as terrible as Jake’s was headed towards. He couldn’t exactly bring Michal and Sasha around to his place without Linnea being there. So far Michal had done his best to duck any plans that Jake had suggested in a little bit of a more intimate setting, like watching the game at his house.
These kids really were nature’s cockblockers. How did anyone manage to have two in a row?
He knew that Michal’s coyness was not precisely a lack of attraction to him. Jake had been around the block, sucked enough dick to know a guy who was uninterested from a guy who was interested, but had some mental hiccups around the concept of having sex with other men. His eyes dropped to Jake’s ass whenever he wore pants tighter than usual. His dark eyes lingered around Jake’s mouth when Jake sat too close to him. His breathing went just a little funny when Jake dropped a careful innuendo into their conversations.
But at the lack of progress Jake made with this whole Project Hot Dad, he found himself frustrated. He had a drink at his favorite bar, a stiff gin and ginger ale, and flipped over the coaster they’d placed his drink on. The coasters at this cheesy joint always had some stupid proverb on it, like less sensical fortune cookies.
When you’re going nowhere, go somewhere instead, this one said.
Jake groaned at it, until it sparked an idea for him. He’d go somewhere, alright.
Micha’s breath halted in his throat when he saw the number. The area code could only mean one thing.
“Hello,” he answered in English, but when he heard the rough, low greeting at the other end of the line, he also switched languages. “Uncle,” he said.
“You’re keeping well, I hope. I can’t send you money, but if it gets tough, I’ll work something out.” His uncle Barek sighed.
“We’re fine for money. I got a job,” Micha said. “Is everyone alright?”
“Everyone is dealing with it. No cops coming around anymore, open and shut case. The letter helped, I think. But how about the little one–” Barek sounded close to tears.
“Sasha is fine. He made a friend. He’s sleeping better at night.”
“Good, good.” His uncle heaved another heavy sigh. “Listen, I heard someone might come looking for you. They’re convinced it wasn’t just your brother.”
“They’re after Sasha?”
“No, they think he’s–” A sharp intake of breath. “But they might think you know more than you know. Although maybe not. Like I said, open and shut case. They don’t want any more trouble than we do.”
Micha said nothing. Barek wanted to warn and comfort in the same sentence, but all it meant was that he felt dread creep up coldly in his veins. The fight or flight response. He didn’t want to flee anymore, though, they had everything figured out here. Sasha was sleeping better, having dry nights and big meals. He was happy and talking more. Micha made enough money for both of them.
“What should I do?” Micha asked.
“Don’t go on the internet, pay in cash, the usual.” Barek sounded tired. “I’ll take care of everything back here. Don’t worry about your parents or sister, they’re fine. Nobody back in the homeland is aware of any of this, and what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”
“That’s something I was thinking–” Micha started, but his uncle interrupted.
“You can’t take the boy out of the country, not even if it would be safest. The lawyer looked into it, it’s more risky than keeping him here.”
“But you said once, going home is always an option.”
“Not the best option,” his uncle countered. “Not right now, anyway. If we work–new names, new passports, maybe. The feds aren’t involved yet, so no Interpol as far as we know. They want to keep it as quiet as we do. That’s our only salvation right now.”
“Okay,” Micha said, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
He ended the call, feeling like his chest opened up and cold air poured in. But then Sasha walked into the room, his round cheeks pink from his nap.
“Does Lin like dumplings?” he asked Micha. “Can we have dumplings?”
“I don’t know if this place has dumplings,” Micha said honestly. “Maybe Chinese ones. Not the ones-” Your mother used to make, but he can’t bring himself to say that part. “Not the ones you’re used to.”
“Lin might like Chinese ones.” Sasha looked at him, the serious frown easing between his brows. The boy might even smile by the time they get to eat those dumplings, Micha thought, and the cavity in his chest now closed, his being warmed by the hope of such simple joys.
“I’ll ask Lin’s father,” Micha promised him, and the boy went off to play with his trucks and toy cars some more.
Micha tried to not feel the sense of foreboding. They were fine, they were safe. He had to stay vigilant, that’s all.
The great thing about having an ex for a private eye, was that when Jake needed to find out who the fuck he was about to stick his dick into, he always knew who to call. The problem with having an ex who was a private eye, was that when Jake needed to find out who the fuck he was about to stick his dick into, his ex might not be so amenable to taking the job.
“Oh, come on,” Jake said, but Bradley frowned stubbornly and kept arranging his papers like a dork.
“I’m not digging into the past of a perfectly regular person on your behalf,” Bradley said tightly. “Especially one you’re probably deceiving yourself.”
“Why do you think I’m lying to him?” Jake kept his eyes on the neat stack of papers and the paperweight Bradley placed on top of them. “I just want to know if he’s got a Grindr profile,” Jake added. Which was a joke. Kind of.
“That’s not one of my services,” Bradley said.
“Sniffies profile, then?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll pay you a lot of money, you know? I’ve got a good job now. I’m not just convincing rich motherfuckers for pocket money.”
Bradley stopped what he was doing and looked up at Jake. He made a pretty sight, still so prim and proper, like when Jake used to know him. Before he borrowed some money from him, and had to make a tactical exit. “Is that what you call it?” Bradley asked sternly. “Convincing?”
“I always thought conning was an abbreviation,” Jake said and shrugged. “What if this dude’s a criminal? You know we bought coffees and he paid in cash? Who does that? In 2019?”
Bradley huffed. “So what if your new hookup is a criminal? You’re also a criminal and he can’t be much worse than you.”
“Any worse than I used to be, you mean? Nobody in this country believes people can come out of prison better people than they came in. Bradley, listen to me. The fact you don’t believe in my redemption is what's wrong with America.”
“Save the rallying cry, Jake. I saw you pocket my paperweight two minutes ago.”
Jake made a point to search his pockets. As he unearthed the cylindrical bronze object, he reluctantly placed it over some envelopes on Bradley’s desk. More’s the pity, he really liked that paperweight. “In my defence, it looks valuable. You shouldn’t have that kind of thing just lying around.”
“It cost me five dollars,” Bradley told him flatly. “Thank you for putting it back. I can see now that you have truly been reformed.”
There was no need for the sarcasm. Jake was reformed, thanks very much. “Are you just jealous I’m fucking another guy?”
“From what you said, you’re not fucking him yet. And no, I’m not jealous. I wasn’t even jealous when we were together, was I?”
He really hadn’t been, come to think of it. Jake even remembered them enjoying some threesomes together. Bradley was good at taking dick, and giving dick, a thing that Jake used to be good at before- well, before things got kind of screwed up for him. He wasn’t delving deeper into that memory bank.
“Fine, so you’re not jealous. You don’t like money these days?” Jake tried.
Bradley sighed. “How about, I’m just fucking busy and I don’t need your stupid job. I’m sorry you went to prison. I’m glad you got out. Just do your own research. Everyone’s online these days anyway.”
“This guy isn’t. Believe me, I’ve checked. His phone number isn’t registered. No profiles, no pictures, this man is a ghost. Possibly literally.” Jake pulled up his phone. “I found an obituary dated 1992.”
“You think the man you’re about to fuck died in 1992?” Bradley glanced at the phone screen. “No, of course you don’t. You’re just fucking with me.”
“I’ll just leave what I know about him, all the details with you in this file.” Jake grinned and put the file on Bradley’s far too organized desk. “And if you happen to take a look at it during a free evening because you just can’t help your curiosity, well, then you know my number.”
“Oh my word.” Bradley took the file. “Do you think life is a film, Jake? Do you think that’s going to work for you?” He dropped the file unceremoniously in the nearest trashcan, which was fucking rude, but okay.
“Are you still obsessed with me?” Jake asked earnestly.
“Get out,” Bradley said, which wasn’t precisely a no.
Jake left Bradley’s office with the comfort of the knowledge that the file remained there for Bradley to possibly look at in the future. Jake had gotten in his head about Michal and his lack of transparency about his past. Jake had been very honest about his own. The story was entirely made up, of course, about how Linnea’s whore of a mother started fucking her yoga instructor and went to India to set up a cult ashram. It was an inventive tale and Michal had listened to the whole thing very intently and offered his condolences afterwards. Perhaps he’d even bought it. Jake could be pretty convincing in that regard.
But there was something fishy about the way with which Michal wasn’t returning that same openness and transparency. He did not mention Sasha’s mother at all. He didn’t talk about where they used to live, or what he used to do for a living, apart from a stint at a junkyard that ended a couple of months ago. It was like him and Sasha sprang out of the ground last year when they moved to California together. Were they aliens? What the fuck.
Normally Jake wouldn’t let such vagueness bother him at all. He didn’t need to know the life story of any man he was fucking. But the problem was different here: he wasn’t fucking Michal, despite a great many attempt at it. They were just having playdates with the kids, and occasionally having a meal together.
“Next time, I was thinking… dumplings?” Michal asked the next time they met up.
Little Sasha looked up from the puzzle he’d been building with Linnea. He said a word in Polish and Michal nodded with a smile.
“Sasha really likes dumplings,” Michal explained to Jake.
“Who doesn’t?” Jake noted. He actually didn’t love dumplings, they were often a very weird texture. His mom made him and Lucy some kroppkakor, which were kind of like potato dumplings, only actually good ones. Well, that was then, and now Jake didn’t like any kind of dumpling. But he was willing to pretend, for Michal.
“I like dumpling,” Linnea said in English. She was attending an English speaking preschool finally, once Lucy had given up hope in finding a Swedish speaking one close enough in the area.
“Don’t speak English,” Jake chided her.
“Why not?” Linnea asked, switching to Swedish as well. “Sasha’s dad knows English.”
“Do you know English completely destroys other languages? If I could only speak Swedish, I would.” Jake smiled pleasantly at her, but she was becoming a little too good at detecting his bullshit.
“In Sweden people speak Swedish,” she said. “I was born in Sweden.”
“Go play with Sasha, and let me worry about English, dear.” Jake gave her another bullshit smile and Linnea returned it in earnest. She was almost cute and he almost liked her.
“So, dumplings?” Michal asked as he watched her go and join Sasha at the puzzle again.
“It’s a date,” Jake said happily. Was it a date? Was he dating and not fucking this insanely attractive man? Where the fuck had he gone wrong in life? What was the point of any of this if he couldn’t sink his cock into that beautiful ass?
He remembered that at some point during his jail stint his psych eval psychologist thought he might be able to form normal human relationships again, not ones based on exploitation and selfish gains. Jake disagreed with that assessment of his past relationships. He didn’t exploit anyone, he gave them plenty of sex and affection along the way. Sometimes he stole money, admittedly, but regular people did that from their lovers as well. Weren’t all human relationships based on needs of selfish gains? Nobody went around fucking and loving others as a charity. Jake didn’t think his doc knew what the fuck he was talking about.
Maybe he did have a personality disorder, but it was one he had a handle on, which was a lot more than you could say of other people.
But he was also smart enough and conscious enough of his own failings to know he wasn’t going to attempt something he wasn’t good at. He wasn’t being an idiot about Michal. They’d fuck long enough for Jake to get bored and dip, and if Michal was a psychopathic criminal, well, hopefully the break up wouldn’t be bad enough to have Jake shot at. Michal did not seem like a psycho criminal, though. He appeared every ounce of working class normalcy that Jake remembered from his own childhood. Just a regular guy trying to get by.
Maybe Jake wanted some of that normalcy for himself. Or maybe that was another desire for exploitation by him. Who could blame him? His brain was fucked, and he had the papers to prove it.
Micha paid for the dumplings, which made it feel like a date. Jake’s eyes sparkled. He was happy sitting with Micha, and that unnerved Micha. How long had it been? He'd fucked around with a closeted guy back in Chicago, before all this shit went down. But that had been casual, infrequent. No meals, no promises, no sleepovers. He wasn't going to do any of that anymore, even if it felt different with Jake. It was almost something normal; a meetcute at the park, followed by some dates and mild flirtation. He was now convinced that his previous assessment of Jake was false, that much was obvious. Straight guys didn’t reach out to touch Micha's arm as often as Jake did. Straight guys didn't typically laugh and lick their lips after catching Micha staring. The signs were all there, once he started noticing them.
Except Micha didn't really know how to flirt anymore. When Jake mentioned how nice his eyes looked, he just got flustered and muddled through a polite thank you.
The Chinese dumplings were good, though. The kids were all smiles, digging into them with their fingers. Sasha giggled as Linnea made an airplane out of one dumpling before allowing it to land in her mouth.
Jake looked at the game she was playing briefly with disgust before the end of his mouth quirked. She was charming like he was, only with that childlike ease of providing entertainment. Jake was a little bit too eager to please, Micha had noticed. Jake was so incredibly handsome, but also a touch phony, the way he found many Americans to be. Maybe it was his profession: real estate agents had to be personable, but they also had to be sharks to get the commissions they lived on. From the cut of his suits to the timepiece on his wrist, it was evident Jake was getting plenty of those.
Or maybe this was all Micha and his bias of knowing too many people with hidden agendas, false promises and lies. The first month when he got out of Chicago with Sasha, he couldn’t even trust a smile from a cashier.
He couldn’t get too close, because Jake was too normal, he thought. But for now, maybe he could enjoy this.
“What is best truck?” Sasha asked in his imperfect English.
Jake flashed him a grin. “A monster one.”
Sasha looked confused, so Jake pulled out his phone and showed the kids what a monster truck was. Both of them seemed wowed by the concept. Linnea said something to her dad, and he nodded, catching Micha’s eye.
“We’ll go see them, won’t we? Make an afternoon of it.”
Micha tilted his head. “Maybe. I don’t have too much to spend.”
“It’s my treat,” Jake said and ruffled Linnea’s hair, which made her say something annoyed in Swedish at him. “For our precious little ones,” Jake added in English.
“You don’t have to.” Micha felt a stone shift in his stomach. It was nice to spend time with Jake and his daughter, but it also felt like wading deeper and deeper into quicksand. The further he got, the harder it would be to get out. And eventually, he would need to get out, despite the pull he felt towards Jake.
Instead of analyzing the situation further and tying himself into knots, he ordered more dumplings. Jake kept telling Sasha about monster trucks, even though Sasha barely understood English; he’d been raised by his mother at home, and she only spoke Polish, a more recent transplant than Michal was. But Jake’s tone was light and he seemed to explain things in a way that was simple enough for Sasha to pick up. He was smiling now, a small hand wrapped around Jake’s wrist as Jake flicked through more photos on his phone.
“I’ll get him a monster truck,” Jake said, noticing Micha looking at them. “For his birthday. When is his birthday?”
“September 3rd,” Micha lied and unsure why he’d felt the need to. What did it matter? September third was his own birthday, and it had passed without him even noticing it himself. He could probably trust Jake with Sasha’s real birthday, but Jake was–Jake was slick, and that unnerved Micha enough to keep some things to himself.
“We should take the kids to your place, have them take a nap or something.” Jake grinned. “If they fall asleep in the car, it'll be a nightmare to wake them up.”
Jake in his apartment was a very scary prospect. But Sasha did need a nap. Usually he fell asleep on the couch with one of his favorite cartoons running in the background. Linnea looked drowsy as well, trailing off midsentence.
“Why not your place?” Micha asked. “It’s probably bigger than mine.”
“Oh, but I’m too curious about yours. See what you’re working with,” Jake said lightly.
Micha understood. Professional interest, although he’d probably catch on quickly that Micha was far too poor to rent a bigger place or buy a house. He nodded. “Fine, but promise not to judge.”
Why did it feel like he was flirting? He wasn’t.
They drove back to the apartment complex, as dingy as he’d left it. The two toddlers climbed into Micha’s big bed and Sasha explained what all his toys did, even though Linnea couldn’t understand him. She said something to Jake, who just smiled back at her yawning little face. She slept with her hands folded beneath her head, unguarded like any normal child would. Micha felt stirred by it, the way that little Sasha held himself so small on the bed compared to her. He glanced at Jake, who was no longer looking at the two children.
“Cool pad,” Jake said and turned towards the tight corridor that lead into the nook of the kitchen, the tiny living space. It was not a cool place to live, paint cracking on the walls and nothing working unless he fixed it himself, too afraid to be in touch with a landlord who hadn’t asked a lot of questions when Micha had moved in, which made him too afraid to rock the boat even a little. He looked around to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating around, but while the place was spotless, he’d stored away everything that tied them home in a little safety deposit box. Everything real and meaningful was locked away, and all he had at the apartment were the fake trimmings of their current situation.
Even if Jake saw that he lived in an absolute shithole, the way he acted about it was normal, polite, nice. It warmed Micha, so he met Jake’s smile. “Do you want a beer or a soda or something?”
“Or something,” Jake repeated. He still accepted the bottle when Micha offered it, after taking the cap off against the side of a table. Jake's eyes followed the movement of his hand as Micha tipped his own beer bottle against his lips. “Are you a man of secrets, Michal Strzalkowski?”
The cool liquid felt like ice sliding down his throat. Micha paused to swallow. “Why do you ask?”
Jake rounded the corner and sat down on the dingy little couch the lady next door had donated to Micha when she’d moved out. He looked so out of place against the faded fabric. “Just a feeling I have,” Jake said. His eyes flashed, and for a brief flicker of a second, Micha saw it, the hidden darkness of someone he had only ever thought of as easy-going, charming, thoroughly good.
Fear tied him to the ground, before his logic kicked in. If Jake was one of them, he wouldn’t have stuck around to be nice, make friends, buy milkshakes and burgers for the kids. Micha would already be killed.
Then Jake’s dark gaze dropped lower, and he leaned forward on the couch. His hand not occupied by the beer bottle reached out to pull Micha close by the waistband of his jeans. The touch wasn’t demanding, but mere surprise jerked Micha forward. “What are you doing?”
“I was kind of hoping to suck your dick,” Jake said, low and seductive.
Micha understood now that the darkness he’d seen wasn’t darkness like the kind he himself had. It had been desire, hot and simple. His cock reacted, twitching slightly at the prospect of Jake’s soft, smiling mouth wrapped around its base.
“I don’t think so,” Micha said, but he didn’t move against the touch of Jake’s hand pressing over his groin. He reached for any reason not to follow through with the impulse of his body, the familiar rushing of blood, the heady need grabbing him by the balls. “I thought you were straight.”
“I can be, if that’s your kink,” Jake said, that gorgeous mouth still smiling. His fingers moved along the hardening length along one leg.
“The kids could hear us,” Micha said.
Jake let out a pleased sigh as he felt over Micha’s cock. “We’ll be real quiet, then.”
Micha’s breathing was shallow by now, body giving up the resistance his brain still wanted to maintain. “No, we’re not fucking doing this, Jake.” He took a slightly uneven step back, away from Jake’s insistent, talented hand. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Okay,” Jake conceded. His smile hadn’t faded, and his eyes moved from Micha’s now very obvious arousal back up to his face. “I’ll play nice. Settle for a kiss? Or are you going to tell me we don’t both want that?”
This man was so annoying, so persistent, so goddamn irresistible. Micha didn’t hesitate. He pushed Jake back onto the sofa, straddling him before leaning down for a kiss. His hands found Jake’s hair and neck, wanting to muss up the perfect haircut, and taste that perfect California smile. But Jake didn’t kiss like Micha expected him to. Jake’s hands held onto his hips, molding Micha’s bigger body against his own like two pieces which were always meant to fit together. Jake’s tongue lingered against Micha’s own, before turning his head just right to control the kiss. The action was sudden and devastating. Before Micha knew it, he was helpless, a mess moaning against Jake’s mouth.
The way Jake kissed him was filthy. Micha had been kissed plenty of times in ways that made desire and need apparent. Guys whose kisses told him that they wanted to fuck him, or for him to fuck them, in very obvious ways. Jake’s kiss wasn’t that. Jake kissed like he wanted to not only fuck Micha, but ruin him for other men, leave him a complete wreck and then fuck him again, just to make sure he’d never forget.
It was exhilarating. It was so fucking dangerous Micha wrapped his fingers around the nape of Jake’s neck and held it back long enough to pull away from the kiss.
“There’s your kiss.” He sounded rough, his mouth open and panting. “You happy now?”
“No, and neither are you.” Jake glanced meaningfully at the tight space between their bodies, the stubborn tenting fabric of Micha’s jeans. “I can play nicely.”
“I can’t,” Micha said, before gathering himself. He didn’t mean for it to sound like dirty talk. “I don’t even know you.”
He said it more to himself than anything, but it made Jake grin. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s trade some secrets. I’ll start.” His hand landed on Micha’s thigh, sliding up. “When I was a kid, I stole a candy bar. I was maybe ten, eleven years old, you know, the sort of age where kids might do that sort of thing.”
Micha found his body slumping over Jake’s, hands on Jake’s shoulders as Jake continued to work a hand over his cock over the thick, harsh denim. The touch wasn’t soft or particularly pleasant, just on the right side of pressure, and enough that Micha didn’t want to push against it, thrust into whatever touch Jake’s hand was serving him.
Jake tipped his head back to kiss the side of Micha’s neck. “Only I didn’t stop, you know, the way most kids do. Even when I got caught and scolded, made to do chores to pay for my crime. I kept stealing, and I noticed that I rarely got caught. And when I got caught, I realized that I could just lie and get away with it. So that’s what I did, stealing and lying, and getting away with it, always bigger and bigger loots, until I was an adult, old enough to know better. But the high was too much. I kept stealing. It caught up with me.”
Micha’s hips jerked forward. Jake let out a little sigh before his hand unzipped and moved into Micha’s pants, long fingers wrapping around the hot skin. Micha shivered, but kept quiet, eyes tightly shut as Jake worked him. “What does that mean, it caught up with you?”
“Eventually every criminal finds their ambition exceeding their intelligence. I did my best work alone, and I stupidly involved some other people in a scheme that would have made me a millionaire.” Jake laughed, dark and hollow. “When the justice system works like it’s supposed to, people like me wind up in jail. Eventually there’s enough of a paper trail that you can no longer lie your way out of it. At least that’s what I told myself, at the devastation of my first real failure.”
It had to be a lie. Jake wasn’t the type, he was pretty much the opposite of what Micha knew of the criminal sort. But maybe this is what got him off, maybe this was his secret darkness, the way other people used handcuffs in the bedroom. Jake’s hand was certainly working wonders around Micha’s cock, just the right amount of rhythm and tightness. He was losing his brain, and had to keep talking. “How long were you locked up for, Jake?”
“Four years and two months. I made bail by swearing my lying ass up and down that I was done conning people. And then I ratted out some bigger fish who had been involved in the scheme. So I was not only a bastard, but a rat, too.”
His hand squeezed, hard, and Micha had half a mind to bite down on his lip before he felt the kick of release, channeling the sound in the shudder of his body. Jake’s hand wrung it out him steadily, his other hand soothing over Micha’s chest.
“Fuck,” Micha swore, voice low enough to be a whisper.
“You’re telling me.” Jake was smiling again. “But now that you know that I’m an unrepentant fucking scumbag of a liar, how do you know any of what I told you just now is true?”
Micha heaved a sigh, trying to get his head back online. Jake wasn’t the sort–too clean, too simple, too normal. Of course it was all dirty talk. “Jake,” he managed as the man tucked his cock back into his underwear, filthy and soft.
“Now your turn.” Jake’s eyes caught his, the stare hot and pinning him in place. “What exactly happened to Sasha’s mother? I want the real story this time. No bullshit.”
Micha felt it, the tone of threat punctuating the words. No bullshit. Well, two of them could play at the same game, and his hand moved up to hold Jake by the throat. It wasn’t choking, the pressure wasn’t there, just a hold tight enough to show he could. He just wanted Jake to feel it, his pulse hammering against the forefinger and thumb of Micha’s hand, which looked ludicrously big against Jake’s throat, his Adam's apple bobbing against his palm.
“No bullshit?” Micha asked.
Jake nodded, mouth falling open. His expression told Micha that Jake loved it, the big hand and the threat. Micha’s other hand pressed against the hard tent in Jake’s slacks, tightening his hold until Jake’s eyes fell closed, a small, soft moan filling the air between them. Micha’s heartbeat had slowed, but it picked back up at the sight of Jake at his mercy, so turned on and ready to be wrecked. Jake had been attractive to him before. Now he found Jake absolutely goddamn beautiful.
“The question isn’t what really happened to his mother,” Micha told him, voice softening into a murmur. “The question is what happened to his real father?”
He sounded as dangerous as he wished he was. Like controlling Jake, driving him over the edge, would make all the bad things go away. But it worked for Jake, his eyes opening as he came with a silent cry, Micha’s fingers feeling every movement, every halted sound vibrating against his hand. He’d barely touched Jake, hadn’t had to. The falsehood of him, big and scary, was enough to drive him wild.
“Fucking Christ,” Jake said, his body slumping against the sofa. Jake wasn’t a criminal, Micha thought, and that was a good thing. That one of them could stave off all the horrible things out there in the world. Jake was just about the dirty talk, the fantasy of it. Roleplay, like the normals did. And then Jake laughed, wet and pearly against Micha’s shoulder. “Oh my god. You’re something else. That accent, holy shit.”
“Did you really go to jail?” Micha asked, just to put a point on it, just to make sure his brain wasn’t making up a story that was convenient for them both.
“No,” Jake said, his mouth grinning. “But that was hot, right?”
Micha laughed, his core tightening even as his head spun. “Yeah, it sure was.”
Jake kissed him again, happy and lazy, like the spell had broken, the filthy criminal washed away with an orgasm. Maybe Micha should prefer that, but instead he was left with a hollow feeling of who he could be, if he could be with someone as fucked up as he himself was. If he could just be himself, not big and scary, not soft and lying.
Jake was on cloud nine, and not even Andrea’s pushiness to get the Lake Crest property sold already could dim his happiness. Yes, he’d come in his pants like a goddamn teenager and the moment he’d felt Michal’s thick cock in his hand before Michal had come undone had been far too brief, but it was a good next step. He’d even managed to have some fun by telling the truth. Michal was a normal, nice man, but fucking someone dangerous was so much hotter, so if Jake briefly allowed him to believe in the truth, where was the harm? He shivered at the thought of Michal’s calloused palm against his throat. Jake had never been a ‘choke me daddy’ type–the way he’d been choked before had been far from arousing, but the sheer strength he felt in those fingers drove him wild.
They could have so much fun together. Jake could allow Michal to believe himself to be the same dangerous type he’d talked about, and Michal could believe the guy sucking his dick was a complete scumbag. Was this what normal people did? Out with the naughty nurse roleplays, in with the mutually assured destruction ones?
Jake sighed and toyed with the idea of sending Michal a picture of his rockhard cock during the workday. Maybe that was a touch too crass. But fuck, how he wanted to.
Now he had to do the boring thing and sell some houses. He had a mindnumbing showing of a penthouse condo downtown before driving up the hill to show the Lake Crest house to a newlywed couple. The brown-haired woman had a wide frame and was heavily pregnant, her hands daintily holding the top of her bump, and the man was twice her height, with a lanky frame. Tech millionaire with pregnant trophy wife? Jake had their number before he even got their names.
The man was called Kurt Hawkes and his wife was Adriana, and she was very particular. “Why is the laundry room upstairs, but the third bedroom isn’t?”
How the hell should Jake know? He gave her his most reassuring smile. “I think the layout of the laundry room will convince you that its location doesn’t matter. The tiling is absolutely beautiful, with great attention to detail.”
“But think about it, Kurt,” she said to her husband, ignoring Jake. “We have a second kid and their laundry is up there, do I need to come all the way down here to take their clothes to the third bedroom?”
“We could use it as a guest room,” Kurt said with a smile. “Let’s have the first kid before deciding on the second, dear.”
Let this life never find Jake. He extended his arm towards the next room. “The backsplash in the kitchen was a custom design by the French artist Jean Aimard. Let me show you guys.”
The Hawkes’ said they’d think about putting in an offer on the two point four million house, and Jake assured them it was the perfect home for an expanding family. Last week he’d told a retired banker that it was the perfect home for him–and his mistress, but Jake hadn’t said the obvious part out loud. He was good at his job because he was good at reading people, and most people were painfully simple to read.
Even Michal, with his initial air of mystery, was in all likelihood a simple case. He worked a manual job, earned basically nothing, and lived in a shithole apartment. He probably had an ex who had taken in with a higher earning guy and dumped both Michal and the kid in one quick decision. Or maybe she took up drugs and he dumped her instead, getting their kid away from bad influence. These things were never complicated, and unlike what Bradley accused Jake of thinking, he knew life wasn’t a movie. He’d learned that in prison awfully fast.
He then left Lake Crest to drive to Lucy’s house, taking the long route and stopping at a gas station to make sure he wasn’t being followed. This was an old tactic, a lingering paranoia about those he’d ratted out making sure he’d get his due out there in the real world. He lived in a different area, had a new name and hadn’t contacted a single friend from his old life apart from Bradley, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew it could find him.
“We’ve finally found a Swedish au pair,” Lucy said by way of greeting. “Your services are no longer needed.”
“Wow, didn’t know you were that desperate for Anders to cheat on you.” Jake grinned at her and picked up Linnea as she ran up to him. “What’s up, squint? Some mean girl from Sweden is coming here to break all your toys. She won’t let you see Sasha again, either.”
“Stop it,” Lucy said. “Of course she will get to see Sasha. And please don’t talk about cheating in front of the kid. Anders is not going to–the au pair. The au pair is a boy–a young man, I mean.”
“So you’re going to fuck him instead?” Jake asked, sighing. “So heteronormative.”
“Don’t use that word,” Lucy warned him, mouthing the word ‘fuck’ in Swedish silently afterwards. “Linnea, go get your toys. Uncle Jake is leaving now.”
“Lucia, come on,” Anders said, emerging from the kitchen. “I just finished the cinnamon buns. He can stay for the taste test?”
“Yeah, Lucy, I need to dive facefirst between your man’s buns.” Jake put down his niece. “Run along, Lin. I’ll come visit in a couple of days. Your mom turns into a werewolf once a month, and that is why your uncle only dates men these days.”
“Oh my god,” Lucy said, throwing her hands up. “I hate you.”
“What’s a werewolf?” Linnea asked.
Anders pulled Jake into the kitchen. “Please don’t rile up Lucy, she’s feeling weird now that she doesn’t have a job here. No friends, apart from my coworkers and their wives. She hasn’t managed to make friends on the playground, unlike you. Speaking of, it’s really wonderful that Linnea now has a friend in Sasha. You’re such a good uncle, Jake.”
“Thanks,” Jake said and grabbed one of the oven fresh buns off the rack. The surface was gleaming with egg glazing and nicely golden, but the bun felt heavy in his hand. “Well, don’t quit your day job, brother. This already feels denser than a brick.”
“Hell,” Anders swore. “I thought I had the recipe down right. I even bought cardamom from the Indian grocery.”
Jake bit into it. “The flavor is fine. The texture just fucking sucks.”
“Oh well,” Anders said, shrugging. “I knew I could count on you for an honest review, at least. That’s what I hate about this country, Jake. People never tell you how they really feel.”
“I haven’t had that problem, strangely enough.” Jake chewed on another bite of the bun. “You really think I’m a good uncle?”
Anders grinned. “Linnea thinks you’re the best.”
“I’m her only uncle, so there’s that,” Jake pointed out.
“No, I have a half-brother back home. He's a very busy, boring entrepreneur type. He’d barely stick around for her birthday parties or forget to visit at all.” Anders leaned against the kitchen counter. “You really have gone above and beyond, and we both appreciate it a lot. Linnea does, too. Lucy won’t say it, because you always give her a hard time, but those moments when we’ve been able to reconnect without Linnea taking all the attention have been very special.”
“Don’t tell me about plowing my sister, dude,” Jake said.
Anders flushed. “I wasn–I didn’t mean that.”
Jake laughed. “Got it. I don’t mind babysitting, truly. Linnea is a fun kid, and it’s nice having someone to speak Swedish with. She’s very energetic and always interested in new things.”
He swallowed, because for once he hadn’t had to bullshit. Linnea was a fun kid, easy to take care of and energetic without tiring Jake out. She brought a little joy to his days, even the time when he didn’t get to have a playdate with her, Sasha and Michal, and spend half of it daydreaming about all the filthy things he’d do to Michal if the kids weren’t around to cockblock. Linnea was great, even when she didn’t serve a purpose.
It was an odd feeling, tightening in his chest right now. He tamped it down, unwilling to let it linger.
“I gotta go now, I think. If you know anyone in the market for a 2.4 mil four bed monstrosity, let me know. Andrea is on my fucking case about this stupid house.”
Anders nodded, smiling. “Take a bun before you go.”
“You couldn’t pay me to eat more,” Jake said, and that was the last bit of his honesty that Anders surprisingly did not appreciate this time.
Micha was having lunch alone as he usually did. The diner bar was empty apart from him and an old trucker at the other end of the bar. Micha was finishing up his fries and fried chicken when a slim guy with glasses, wearing a well-tailored suit slipped onto a seat, leaving only one seat between them. Micha’s spine tensed; a reflex he fought all year, even when things were going well. But the guy wasn’t making a scene, even as he glanced in Micha’s direction. Micha forced his shoulders to relax–he wasn’t getting killed in the middle of lunch hour. He might get killed later on in the parking lot, but right now he could just finish up eating and see what the stranger was about. But the guy turned to him after ordering a coffee and slipping a ten dollar bill–more tip than Micha would leave–next to the cup as it arrived.
Finally Micha felt like he had to acknowledge the situation somehow. “Alright,” he grunted in the man’s direction.
“Right,” the man said, his voice sing-songy yet clipped. Like someone from an old Hollywood movie. “Let me cut to the chase. I’m Bradley Warden, private eye, and you’ve been seeing a man named Jake Quinze. I don’t know what he’s told you about his life or his past, but whatever he’s told you has been at least partially a lie. So in this folder,” and he brought out a beige casefolder, filled with papers, “you will find the rough scope of what the truth about him actually is. Starting with his real name, which is Jakob Daniel Bergdahl, and ending with the details of his incarceration and current employment status.”
“What,” Micha managed, but the file had already been slid next to his plate, the edge of the folder soaking in the drop of coffee on the counter.
“If you’re not interested in the truth, you can chuck it into the trash and walk away for all I care. Goodness knows trash is where Jake Quinze belongs if you ask me.” Bradley gave him a steady look. “I just know I would have liked to know everything, when I was–well, that part doesn’t matter. Good luck, man. You’ll need it.”
Micha watched Bradley get up, silently nod at him and exit the diner, his coffee undrunk. He placed his hand over the folder, feeling the cool paper against his palm before flipping it open. His brain was still processing what Bradley had told him, Jake’s real name, his incarceration–just the fact that he had a different, real name, the fact he’d been locked up, like he said, how the lie had not been a lie at all.
He couldn’t help it. He stared back at the mugshot, dirty blond hair so unlike Jake’s current sunkissed style, the unshaven chin tipped up and mouth unsmiling. So much like Micha’s own mugshot, eyes burning into the camera because nobody wanted to show that they were weak or above it. That look was the last act of stone-cold criminal defiance. A silent fuck you to whoever was behind the camera.
Micha started laughing, and could not stop.
Jake fucking Quinze.
“Pitr,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair. “Would you gangfuck this gentleman?”
Pitr made a displeased noise as he stood up. “I’m telling Andrea you’ve referenced sex work in the office again.”
“But she’s not here,” Jake said. “That’s why I’m referencing your beautiful, sordid past, for which I have endless admiration for. I’m just not gay enough for gangbangs.” He handed Pitr his phone, with the picture of Micha holding a toy monster truck. “Now stop composing an HR complaint in your head and come look at this gorgeous Polish man.”
“Hm,” Pitr said once he stood over Jake, assessing the photo. “He’s okay. He doesn’t look Polish.”
“What does that mean?” Jake looked at the picture again. Michal looked like his usual self, the dark brows slightly lifted, mouth smiling with no teeth shown. His hair was messy yet glossy all at once, and he was wearing a hoodie that despite its loose fit showed his body in a distractingly fantastic form. The toy monster truck was big, but looked tiny in his hands, big orange wheels prominent against the background of his hoodie.
“What I said. He doesn’t look Polish. Looks like something else.” Pitr shrugged. “Also he is okay-looking, not that hot. Maybe you have a little crush on him, though.”
“I’m thirty five years old, Pitr,” Jake said, affronted. “I don’t get crushes, I get laid like an adult man.”
“Well, maybe.” Pitr shrugged again and walked back to his desk. “Lake Crest house not selling?”
“The couple might buy it, who knows. The woman was about to pop, they probably want to buy fast.” Jake played with a pen between his fingers. “What do you mean, he doesn’t look Polish?”
Pitr harrumphed, clearly not interested in discussing Jake’s flavor of the month. “I used to live in London, you know? Lots of Russians in London, lots of Polish people, too. You learn to recognize who is and who isn’t, same as you see and you probably can tell who’s Swedish and who is, something else, like Finnish. I don’t know.” He shrugged and returned his attention to the laptop screen in front of him.
“Yeah, but that’s only because Finns are fucking ugly,” Jake quipped, but Pitr was no longer listening. “I don’t have a crush on him.”
The idea that Michal wasn’t who he said he was very much intrigued Jake. They hadn’t had time to have a playdate, so he was reliant on only photos and messages sent back and forth between them over the past couple of days. This meant that to supplement his usual need to be in Michal’s presence, he had to rely on fantasy to get his fill. But Michal didn’t pick up on innuendo very well and the double whammy of Jake having to pretend to be a father and Michal having an early job made scheduling phone sex nigh impossible. So here he was, blueballed to hell and back, and dreaming of the man who may or may not be Polish.
It was ridiculous. Jake could go and fuck literally anyone else in the world. But he just did not want to. He wanted Michal. Whether it was just the challenge of him, the enticing longer chase and a little bit of the mystery, he didn’t know. But he only wanted Michal right now, stuck on the thought like glue.
So when he texted back and Michal suggested they get together the next day, Jake felt absolutely fucking triumphant.
Nap time and Jake’s mouth was back on his own, making filthy promises Micha couldn't wait for Jake to live up to. Micha knew he ought to feel guilty about the two kids in the other room, but he felt more guilty about not feeling guilty at all. And Jake? Jake suddenly tasted every bit the slimy fuck he truly was. Micha smiled against the kiss, thinking of the long rapsheet.
He pushed Jake off, hand at the base of his throat. He watched Jake’s eyes turn glassy with need, his cock already hard in his white linen pants.
“What do you want?” Jake asked.
“On your knees, sweetheart, and I'll tell you exactly who you are.” Micha knew it might be unfair of him to play games. Jake might be the type who thought it was all fine when he himself did it, but not appreciate it when the shoe was on the other foot. Jake had a side to him that was manipulative and out for his own gain, he may not find it funny to have all the information Micha now had on him lorded over him at a vulnerable moment.
Then again, Jake seemed about as fucked up as himself. Micha thought it might be worth the risk, though, and his cock was certainly stirring enough that this felt like a good idea.
And Jake seemed eager enough, dropping to his knees and running hands over Micha's thighs, meeting at his crotch. He grinned up at Micha. “Who am I? Besides a guy whose jaw is about to ache tomorrow.”
Micha smiled down at him. “Take it out, then. It's not that big.”
Jake groaned and did as told. His mouth closer over the thick head of Micha's cock, eyes closing at the taste and feel of it. Micha held his breath at the hot, wet perfection of Jake’s mouth. He stayed quiet and watched as Jake wet the length of his cock with a determined, flat tongue. His own abdomen tensed as Jake worked his thick cock, that pretty wet mouth stretched over it. Micha could get off on that image and the mere memory of Jake’s mouth sucking at the head as he moved up and down Micha’s cock.
But he wanted to start his stupid game, enticed by all the power he now had over Jake, in more ways than one. His hand sank into Jake’s beautiful blond hair, holding the base of his skull against his palm before he said anything. “I know you're not her dad.” His voice was soft and when Jake protested against the cock in his mouth, Micha held him right there, not letting go. “Shh, it's okay,” he said. “You're not her father, and your real name isn't Quinze and you're a lying, stealing son of a bitch who's still going to come choking on my dick, aren't you sweetheart?”
Jake’s eyes looked up at him, big, bright and innocent. Micha could see how he’d gotten away with so much of it, the real list of his crimes probably much longer than what the cops had on him. “Keep at it,” Micha instructed. “You're so fucking good, but you rarely shut up. So let me talk for a moment, okay?”
Jake nodded silently and tightened his grip at the base, continuing to bob his head at Micha’s cock. He really was talented, the pressure of his lips so hot and right for Micha.
“You stole as a kid, didn't you? And then you kept stealing, and the crimes got bigger and more ambitious, like they always do–oh, fuck, right there,” and Jake’s hand teasing his balls got more determined, “but you kept getting away with it because you're nothing if not convincing, you always kept a cool head, you kept going until it got too big for you. But they didn't catch you on a whole lot, did they? Only six years, reduced to four. You even played the courts like a fiddle.”
Jake made a noise against the cock, the sound vibrating pleasantly on the wet skin. “Keep sucking the head, sweetheart. I know you've wanted my cock for a long fucking time, you lying little slut.”
Jake really liked that, and took Micha as deep as he could, gagging and softening until Micha’s cockhead poked at the opening of his throat. Micha groaned and started thrusting into the tight, wet hold, disregarding how Jake might have felt about his mouth getting fucked with Micha setting the pace.
“I don't trust a lot of people, especially the more normal they seem. You already guessed I was hiding something–oh, fuck, yeah, take it.” Micha paused to tilt Jake’s head, make sure he could take Micha all the way down before fucking his mouth again. “But you’re wrong if you think I'm as dangerous as the guys you fucked over, or as innocent as you claimed to be.”
Jake pushed off, voice hoarse. “Tell me, baby, tell me fucking everything.”
“No,” Micha said. Not like this, the topic was too big and felt too vulnerable. It was one thing to have Jake choking on his dick, eager and sloppy, and another to actually let him know what had happened to Sasha, his parents, Micha's family in general.
So he focused instead on the simple feel of Jake on him, taking him beautifully and fully, moaning like he was meant to take him, like he got off on the simple act of his mouth on another man's cock. It didn't take long for him to thrust deep into Jake, slowing down his strokes before he felt the kick and the subsequent unraveling. Jake moaned as Micha slid out of him, just enough that his come landed on Jake’s tongue. He felt the opening and closing of Jake’s throat as Jake swallowed, so eager for his cock all the way through.
Jesus. Micha recovered slowly, petting Jake’s hair as Jake’s hot tongue cleaned him up.
“You're fucking insane,” Jake said, voice low and wrecked but his mouth also curving into a grin. “You fucking maniac. I almost came from just sucking your dick.”
“You lied to me.” Micha breathed hard, his cock zinging with aftershocks as Jake put it back into his underwear.
“You lied to me, too.” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Goddamn convincingly, too. Is this a competition? Who made more of a sucker out of the other? I hate to tell you, I tend to win that one every time.”
Micha let out a laugh. “You don’t win this one. You didn't even get to come.”
“I won alright,” Jake said and got up to kiss him.
Micha allowed him to dig his fingers into Micha’s hair, tilting his head for another filthy kiss. Then he pushed Jake back by the throat, watching as Jake’s breath caught beneath his fingers. “We’re not doing that again.” Jake looked at him, eyes dark and brow raised slightly in question. “During nap time, at least,” Micha amended.
“We’ll see,” Jake said with a shrug. “Are you going to choke me? Because while I’m down with that, I think maybe that’s past the point where we need a safe word.”
Micha dropped his hand like it was burning. “Sorry, I’m not going to–” He looked down at Jake's body, where his cock was still tenting his linen trousers. “I went too far.”
“Nothing is too far for me, baby.” Jake slipped his thighs on either side of Micha’s and steadied himself by holding onto Micha’s arms. “Trust me. I can do whatever you want.”
“Including telling the truth?” Micha asked.
“That’s extreme kink,” Jake joked and started rocking his hips against the hard muscle of Micha’s thigh. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”
“I mean it,” Micha said. “No more secrets. No more lies.”
“No more naptime hookups? You’re so boring for a guy who’s a part of the mob.” Jake had his eyes closed, focused on frotting against Micha. But his brain was still working, taking a stab at what could be the truth.
“Not the mob, not exactly,” Micha said. “Independent business venture. My uncle runs a bunch of laundromats.”
“So just money laundering, then. Did you really kill Sasha’s parents? The assassin with a heart of gold?”
“Sasha is my family, just not my kid.” Micha smiled. “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’re not rutting on my leg in order to come.”
Jake let out a fragile laugh. “That might be difficult since I’m always trying to come in your presence.”
Micha felt a rush of new arousal along with heat on his cheeks, but instead of arguing or asking why Jake was into him, he wound his arms around Jake’s hips and watched. Jake was so hot when he looked this desperate, mouth open and panting as he drove his hard cock over and over with the tight friction against Micha. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to ask for more, Micha’s hot mouth or the tight hold of his hand, but Jake didn’t. Jake wanted release, but he wanted all of Micha another time. He was content to drive himself over the edge with only Micha’s body to rock up against, saving every other experience for the next time. Micha wasn’t sure he had ever been with someone this undeniably bad and good for him at the same time.
It drove Micha absolutely wild to think about. The temptation was there to let it all spill, the way Jake’s life story was contained in that file he’d received. But he had to hold back. He didn’t know what dangers could come to him or Sasha for telling another person, a complete outsider, their entire story.
“Fuck, Jesus,” Jake swore as his body shivered in Micha’s arms. Micha really enjoyed the feeling of his weight, the flush on his face, and the way he completely came apart.
“Are you ever going to do something other than come in your pants with me?” he asked, propping Jake’s slumping body up.
“Fuck you.” But Jake was grinning. “Just be happy you’re hot enough to make me come in my pants. Even if you’re not really Polish.”
Another fishing expedition, but this one made Micha take note. “Why would you think I’m not Polish?”
“You don’t look Polish,” Jake said. “You look more–Hungarian? Or Czech? No? I can keep guessing.”
“I’m Polish,” Micha said with emphasis, unsure what else to say. “And Michal is my real name, but most of my friends call me Micha for short.”
“Micha,” Jake said the name as if tasting it. “I like that. Micha the hot assassin.”
“Not an assassin,” Micha corrected him.
“Gigolo?” Jake suggested, though only to make Micha laugh again. “How did you find out about me? Internet search for California’s most lying ass Swede?”
“A friend of yours offered the info.”
“Bradley.” Jake grimaced. “You know, I only stole 10k from him. That’s practically nothing considering how much he earns. Not sure why he's so bitter about it.”
Micha shook his head. “I think he was being a friend, in a weird way. Go clean yourself up. Kids might wake up at any moment.”
Jake stretched his arms. “Fuck, I love naptime.”
He was absolutely dreadful, but that didn’t make Micha any less fond of him. He laughed and shoved Jake towards the bathroom. But when Jake pulled him close for another kiss, he relented.
The Hawkes’ were on Jake’s ass about this stupid Lake Crest house. He dodged another email from Adriana about potential plinth repairs and a request to meet up by giving a broad answer that the condition report by a reputable agency had given the house an all-clear, but she wasn’t happy. Could they either buy the house or stop hounding him?
Andrea listened to his woes without much sympathy, and tucked a strand of golden brown hair behind her ear. She wore immaculate designer suits and very understated makeup, a far cry from her past career. “Some sellers are difficult. Sometimes it’s the buyers who are. Close the deal anyway.”
“They want to meet up with me, and not see the house again. What’s up with that?”
“Maybe they want a threesome,” Pitr suggested lightly before leaning down to blow on his hot cup of tea.
“HR complaint!” Jake said, putting his hand up. “Andrea, I think that one calls for a very stern reprimand.”
“The first month you worked here you asked him to show you his privates, repeatedly,” Andrea said. “Yet I kept both of you around. Complaint dismissed.”
“Hostile environment,” Jake said under his breath, but Andrea was already halfway out the door.
“Sell the house!” she told him before disappearing.
“Whatever,” Jake muttered, turning back to Pitr. “You were wrong about the Polish guy, by the way. He is definitely Polish.”
“I’m wrong about a lot of things.” Pitr shrugged. “Do you still want to see my cock? I can show you in the bathroom.”
“Ew, no.” Jake made a face. He’d mostly been joking about it even back when he started at Andrea’s agency a couple of years ago. Yes, Pitr was tall and dark and attractive, and probably had a huge one, but they were buddies now. Seeing Pitr’s dick in real life would be like realizing a movie star who looked huge onscreen was only 5’5. It would be so disappointing. Jake had less than zero interest in Pitr’s wang.
Pitr smiled triumphantly. “See, you do have a crush on him.”
Jake usually didn’t have any problem sharing details of his sex life with coworkers, but his thing with Micha felt different. He didn’t particularly want to divulge any information, so instead he played offence by grinning at Pitr. “I just want to breed that ass, alright?”
That made Pitr’s face contort in disgust. “My tea is getting cold.” He got up and walked away from Jake’s desk.
Jake sighed and typed a message to Adriana Hawkes. She had better fucking put an offer on this stupid house. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other places to sell, he’d just managed to close a deal that netted him a neat sum in commission. But selling the Lake Crest house was more like a badge of honor.
He then called his lazy unemployed sister for Jake had a genius plan on how to progress his intentions with Micha. “Lucy,” he announced in a singsong manner. “I’ve done so much for you since you re-immigrated here that it might be high time that you do something for me.”
Lucy snorted. “No. What is it? I’m not giving you money.”
“Wow, you really have no faith in me. I’m offering you an opportunity to bond with your daughter’s only friend in this world. You guys could babysit Sasha while I take his dad out for a date.” Jake waited for a beat. “You can finally give your only brother in this world a chance at love.”
Lucy laughed out loud hard at that. “You can’t tell me you’re in love.”
Jake absolutely wasn’t. “Deeply so, probably for the first time in my life.”
“Fine, one evening. I would love to meet little Sasha, Linnea has told me so much about him, and they don’t even share a language. It’s very touching to see her form such an attachment to him. Is Sasha’s dad okay with this arrangement?”
“Of course,” Jake lied. He hadn’t actually asked Micha about it at all yet.
He just wanted so badly to have a moment with just the two of them, completely uninterrupted by the kids. The flaring heat in his stomach told him it was definitely just about the sex, but even if they didn’t get to that–which Jake would try to make sure they would–he did also just want to talk to Micha, one-on-one. He’d managed to find an opening in that heavy armored facade and Jake was determined to get it all the way open, crack Micha open like a goddamn egg. That was even more enticing to him right now than getting Micha naked under his hands.
He’d grown to like the kids being around, fine with the interruptions and the way they could dominate the conversation. Sasha was a quiet boy, but ultimately lively and active when he got in the mood, and Linnea brought out the best in him. They could entertain each other by just chasing each other around the park or make silly noises with their mouths that would send them both into fits of giggles. As much as Jake had no patience for the stubborn tantrums or grimy hands that kids seemed to constantly have just by existing, there was a simple joy in just watching these little creatures play and the sheer exuberance they so easily seemed to exhibit.
“Maybe I’ll do it,” Lucy said. “I’ll have to ask Anders.”
“It’ll be fun for you both, and it won’t be overnight or anything,” Jake promised. He did want to spend the entire night with Micha, obviously, but he knew Sasha was a gentle kid, and he didn’t want to push him out of his comfort zone too much.
Of course Anders would agree, he was Mr Bleeding Heart all over. He’d wax poetic to Lucy about what a changed man Jake was, which was utter bullshit. Jake was still out for his own gains, even if they lined up partially with the welfare of two little kids. But that part was entirely coincidental.
“You're really in love, huh?” Lucy asked him.
“Head over heels,” Jake lied smoothly, and ignored the little kick in his stomach.
The next time Micha saw Jake, they’d agreed to a date. An actual, real, just-the-two-of-them date. It took a while for Micha to agree, but once he met Jake’s sister and brother-in-law and especially once he had introduced the idea to Sasha, who had reacted enthusiastically, he knew it was a solid decision. To be there for Sasha was the most important thing, but he hadn’t been away from the kid except for work shifts at all in the past year. To care so much and yet be so tired of being everything; it was a conundrum he’d felt guilty about for a while. A little break shouldn’t hurt.
It felt a little pathetic how badly he wanted Jake to know him, the real him. The instinct fought inside him with the innate survival instinct that kept his walls up. Jake wasn’t trustworthy in the true sense of the word. He was clearly a liar, and a crook, but he was also not the person who had anything to gain by ruining Micha’s life. The kind of crooks who Jake had ratted out to get bail earlier were precisely the kind of people who might be coming after Micha as well. What little Jake had divulged about his own thinking at the time, he’d told Micha that he preferred to work alone, and hold no allegiances.
In all his dishonesty, Jake was earnest about one thing: he did want Micha and he wanted to get to know Micha, in whatever way he was allowed to. He was a criminal, sure, but Micha had known a lot of criminals, and the worst ones didn’t attend endless playdates or watch monster animal videos with toddlers while answering endless questions about said footage with good humor.
All this made Micha ready to be honest, or at least be a little bit more honest than he had been with anyone outside of the family before.
Jake picked him and Sasha up in his shiny SUV and smiled widely at the kid, then at Micha. “You should probably tell him I’m not really Linnea’s dad. Otherwise he’ll think I’ve had kids with my sister, which is not a phenomenon you want him finding out about until he watches Game of Thrones.”
Micha made a face. “Yeah, he knows already. I told him there was some confusion about that.”
“Confusion,” Jake said, grinning. “That’s one word for it.”
Micha let his eyes linger on that lopsided grin, the way it carved lines into Jake’s thin cheek, creasing his stubbled skin. He was so attractive, yet so worn by the world. Micha felt the same way. He looked away.
Lucia and Anders seemed like the picture perfect rich couple, their decor immaculate and their skin luminous. Lucia didn’t look similar to Jake in many ways, but their eyes were starkly similar and their bodies had the same daintiness to them. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as Jake, whereas her husband was shorter and roundfaced.
Jake’s sister showed them around the house and asked all the right things about Sasha, what he liked to eat and play with, should they call if he started crying or became inconsolable. Micha answered happily and let go of Sasha, who was wiggling in his arms too much to be held. Sasha ran to Linnea as soon as he got on the floor, and showed no signs of shyness or fears of the new environment.
“Please don’t be too late,” Lucia said once they were saying their goodbyes at the door. “If the kids fall asleep, that’s fine, but I think Sasha would be better to sleep at home this time.”
“Of course,” Micha agreed. He wasn’t sure a stranger could handle it if Sasha had a bad night. He wanted to be there for the toddler, if need be.
“We are so happy Linnea has finally made a friend,” Anders said. “Jake has been such help to us, so if we can return the favor now, that’s very good.”
“Alright, stop sucking my dick, Anders,” Jake said, which made Anders flushed.
“I didn’t mean–” he started, while Lucia frowned at Jake and said something angry and rapid in Swedish.
“She doesn’t know what it means, poor soul.” Jake nudged Micha’s arm.
“Jakob!” Her hands balled into fists. “I’m so sorry about his everything,” she told Micha. “We’ll take care of little Sasha, please enjoy your night off. If you wind up killing my brother, I completely understand.”
“I won’t kill your brother,” Micha promised.
“I’m sure you’ll try your best.” Lucia smiled at him.
“Hey now,” Jake said. “Anders, you can say something nice now. Go back to sucking my proverbial dick, if you wish.”
“What’s proverbial?” Anders asked, as Lucia pushed him back inside.
Micha cleared his throat. “You and Lucia have an interesting relationship.”
“Well, our parents are dead and I’m a crook and she’s kind of mad about it.” Jake grinned. “I love her. Have you got any siblings?”
Micha felt a stone form in his chest. “Yes, a sister.”
“Then you know what it’s like,” Jake said, nudging his elbow. “Let’s go back to mine.”
“We really should talk before–” Micha swallowed slowly. The words weren’t the easiest to form, but he knew he had to, imperfect as they might come out of him. He had to tell Jake the full truth, especially as he now knew everything about Jake.
“On the drive.” Jake shrugged. “Come on. I’ve waited so long for this.”
On the drive might be okay. Micha thinks the hardest part might be Jake’s expression, but if Jake’s eyes had to remain on the road, maybe–
So once in the, he ran his hands over his jeans as Jake pulled out of the driveway. “I also have a brother. Well, I had a brother. As you might have guessed, he’s Sasha’s actual dad.” If he just kept talking, it would all come out of him, he was certain of that. It was just worrying what all that talking might do to his–connection? Relationship?--with Jake. He knew Jake now, but he didn’t know how he might react.
“You killed your own brother?” Jake asked, still jovial. “Sorry, that was too dark. I tend to–whatever, keep talking.”
“It’s okay,” Micha said. He took a deep breath and felt the words pour out of himself. “He had a wife and this lovely kid, and then he got involved in something pretty bad to get more money. Buy a house, you know, do all the right things. Well, the guys he got the money from–”
“Gangs?”
“The mob. Italians.”
“Ah,” Jake said sharply. “That’s not great. That’s extremely not great.”
“Yeah,” Micha agreed. “He had to do a job for them to make up for the fact he couldn’t pay back and they threatened–-his life, his family’s life. So he did it, and he, well, he fucked it up.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jake muttered. His eyes briefly flicked towards Micha, then back onto the road.
Micha felt the lump in his throat get bigger, but he forced it back down. He wasn’t going–this wasn’t a time to feel all the feelings he’d kept at check for Sasha. He could keep them in for now. “I know. So they—handled it. The way they handle things. And we didn’t want any more of it, so we let the cops think it was a double suicide. Sasha was staying with his grandpa, my uncle, at the time. We weren’t thinking clearly, so we decided I’d take Sasha and just go, leave, and see it blow over. It’s been a year since we left Chicago.”
Jake let out a long curse. “Do they–the mob–know about Sasha? Have they harassed your family back home?”
“No, not as far as we know. Maybe it’s all fine by now. Maybe it’s not. My uncle thinks they think I’m involved somehow, but I wasn’t.” Micha wrung his hands together, but he knew the last bit had to be said as well. “I’m not exactly innocent, either, but the stuff we did at the laundry business was small scale. Selling things that were, maybe–”
“Questionably acquired?” Jake suggested, his mouth sliding into a familiar grin.
Micha let out a breath. “Yes, exactly.”
“Fuck me,” Jake said. “You ever done time, then?”
“No,” Micha said.
“Fuck me.” Jake shook his head. “Poor kid.”
“He’s better now, but for a while he was–in a bad way. I thought maybe he needed help, and we did take him a few times to see this one woman, a psychologist, but it was expensive and we were worried. Like I said, not thinking clearly.” Micha ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never told anyone who wasn’t family all that shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you even care.”
“I care a bunch, of course I do,” Jake said with a grin. “It’s like, healing. You tell me your shit, I–well, my ex with an agenda tells you my shit.”
Micha huffed a laugh and placed his hand, palm up, over Jake’s knee. “Thanks. For everything.”
Jake took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it over Micha’s hand, his palm feeling soft and cool against Micha’s warm and rough skin. “What do you want to do at my place?” Jake asked.
“I think I’d like to suck your cock,” Micha said, at once a joke and far too honest.
Jake laughed. “Hell yeah.”
Jake’s home was a modest home he was still paying down like a good citizen, even though the mortgage complex was a fucking scam that would lead to the collapse of the financial system, he was sure of it. But like all law-abiding fools, he had to participate in this one.
He did like it, cost and all. It was nice having a place to himself, and he’d even stopped feeling as anxious once he got the security system installed. It was a place where he could be, and after all the shit he’d been through, he could sure as fuck appreciate that.
Jake especially liked the bedroom, tasteful and light, the bed with the perfect balance of soft and firm. He’d had a lot of fun nights on this bed, albeit mostly alone. Fucking around had been so easy when he’d been just a guy who made his living the questionable way, when he’d dated Bradley or any of his other exes, he’d never settled for just one guy at a time. After he got out, his dick worked the same, but his mind did not. He preferred to fuck guys outside of the house, and keep this sanctum to just him and his right hand. He’d brought a guy around once or twice, but they asked too many questions, and it hadn’t felt right, so he’d stopped.
To bring Micha here felt fine, and he didn’t know why. Sometimes Micha would just look at him and it made Jake’s body react, but not with the zing of arousal or the heavy warmth of need. Sometimes with Micha he would say a line that felt as easy as a lie, only to realize halfway through speaking that it was actually the truth.
But none of that mattered when he had this: Micha kissing him lazily and undressing him quickly, eager to have Jake on the bed and out of clothes. Micha’s big hands caressed him, Jake’s skin tickling from the callouses. He’d been hard since he got out of the car, and shown Micha the foyer, locking the door behind them only to be pressed against it by Micha’s impatient hands.
“You’re so pretty,” Micha breathed against his mouth in the bedroom, once Jake was finally on the bed.
“Nah,” Jake said. Jake wasn’t being coy, he felt honest. He’d been pretty and then he’d gone to jail and aged a century by sheer stress, and he knew he had lines around his eyes and greys at the temples. They were silvery enough to hide amongst the light wheat of his hair, but they were still there, shining when the sun hit them.
He watched Micha strip off his shirt and took in every contour of his body that he’d only been able to imagine so far. Micha wasn’t ripped, but he was solid, flat planes of muscle and well-defined pecs, dusting of chest hair. He was big and wide all over, and Jake’s abdomen burned at the possibility of kissing and touching every tiny bit of the expanse.
“You are,” Micha argued and leaned over him, cock still trapped in his boxer briefs.
Jake’s mouth watered. Micha’s cock was so satisfyingly thick, he wanted to choke on it again. But Micha had said he wanted to pay attention to Jake’s own achingly hard cock tonight, and who was Jake to argue with what this gorgeous man wanted out of him?
“How do you want me?” he asked, but Micha’s hands were already pushing his thighs apart roughly and taking his cock in hand. Jake gasped like a goddamn virgin, lifting his hips towards the touch.
“So fucking eager,” Micha teased him. “Are you going to shoot off, sweetheart?”
“Fuck no,” Jake said, though he couldn’t be entirely sure of it. “How are you going to handle me not being able to shut up during?”
Micha lifted a brow, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’ll have to think of something.”
He then lowered his mouth onto Jake’s cock, the head pushing quickly past the soft lips and the flat of his tongue sliding down the underside. Jake dropped onto the bed, swearing beneath his breath. Micha’s mouth was far, far too much. Hot and tight around his cock, Micha’s big hand already cupping his tight sack like he knew exactly how Jake got off. Then the hand actually wrapped around his balls and did the tiniest, gentlest little tug, and Jake had to think of something unpleasant like baseball or wet socks to stop himself from careening off before the blowjob had even begun. Micha made a pleased little sound against his dick, humming as he began to bob his head up and down on it. Jake didn’t even want to think about the sounds he was making, too embarrassed by them.
Micha continued for a while, gently sucking on the tip of Jake’s cock as his hand worked at Jake’s balls. Jake grasped his hair, but didn’t pull, too focused on breathing and thinking and not coming, nope, definitely not coming like a teenager getting his first blowie.
“It’s actually annoying how good you are at that,” he told Micha.
Micha made an amused noise that vibrated against the soft underside of the head of Jake’s cock, which was so not fair. “You don’t sound too annoyed,” Micha told him.
“Of course I’m annoyed,” Jake bluffed. “You haven’t made me come yet.”
“I told you, sweetheart, I’ll have to think of something.” Micha moved his hand around the slick length of Jake’s cock, his fingers closing into a tight, perfect fist around it and jerking Jake off for a couple of strokes. Jake’s free hand grasped the sheets, his teeth gritted and toes actually fucking curling like a cliché. Micha’s other hand left the spot where it had been touching Jake’s thigh, and then Jake felt–he felt–
“Fuck,” he swore when Micha’s finger circled the rim of his role, teasing but insistent in entering. It was slick with saliva and something else, something Jake didn’t even know Micha had, but the pressure was there, pushing into him as Micha’s mouth took him in again.
The problem was–the problem wasn’t Jake wasn’t used to that. He was thirty five fucking years old and he’d been fucked by a lot of guys. The problem was–that was a while ago, and a lot of water had flowed under that bridge, and now Jake had a thing about anything to do with his hole. But this was Micha, whose perfect, hot mouth was still wrapped around his cock and Jake–Jake was so fucking close. He wasn’t going to be a pussy and say no to this, even if his heart was beating with panicked rabbit pace, his palms sweaty against the sheets. He wanted Micha, god, how he fucking needed Micha, and he had Micha, and Micha’s finger curled inside of him as it dragged out and Jake–
“I love opening you up for my cock,” Micha told him, mouth leaving his cock. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you so hard later.”
Jake mind fought the word no, because what Micha was doing was good, one finger dragging out of him and then pushing in with two, fucking Jake as Micha’s mouth resumed sucking him. Micha was perfect, it was Jake who was a mess, Jake who couldn’t handle his hole fingered, even though it made the knot of arousal tighten even further, even when his mouth was making embarrassing noises. Micha fucked him, wide fingers invading the place he’d wanted to protect, because he was and he wasn’t that guy anymore, he couldn’t–if he could just not let anyone there, he would be fine.
And now Jake wasn’t fine.
Micha’s soft mouth kissed his thigh. “Jake–Jake, are you crying?”
“Don’t stop,” Jake begged him, “please don’t stop, please, don’t.” And it sounded an awful like he was asking for Micha to stop, which he wasn’t, he wouldn’t, he never would. His hand forced Micha’s mouth back on him, rutting his hips pointlessly until he came undone, the knot unraveling. He cried out, finally loose, finally free, his breaths coming in hard.
His face was wet. His fingers fisted Micha’s black hair, and Jake was–exactly as he didn’t want to–wrecked and out of control.
“Jesus,” Micha said, reaching up so his fingers could feel through Jake’s half-dried tears over his cheek bone. “Are you alright? Fuck, I didn’t know–”
Didn’t know what? Jake was messed up and now he’d been cracked open, laid bare like a goddamn bitch. That’s why he was acting this way, because he’d been too soft to take what was coming to him like a man. He could only blame himself.
“I’m alright,” Jake said, grinning. “You’re amazing.”
“Did I hurt you?” Micha asked.
“What? You’re crazy. Of course not.” Jake wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. “It’s nothing. You didn’t hurt me, I came like a motherfucker and got overwhelmed. It happens.”
He wouldn’t have to tell. Not even Micha, not even the guy who now knew everything about him. He didn’t need to talk about that.
“I hurt you,” Micha repeated. “I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t,” Jake insisted. He wasn’t going to be a pussy about it anymore. It had been long enough, for fuck’s sake. Two years was plenty of time to get over something as minor as what had happened. It was barely anything. He’d just–not do that again. “You said you wanted to open me up for your cock. Fuck me, then, baby.”
“No,” Micha said. “Jesus, Jake, no, I couldn’t. You need to tell me what the fuck just happened.”
Jake’s first instinct was to get angry, but that might mean he’d end up sadder than before. So instead he opted for his second instinct, comedy. “What, you’ve never finger fucked a guy who cried before he came? It’s not a big deal, I told you.”
“Okay,” Micha said, but his eyes remained big, dark and concerned.
Jake pulled him in for a kiss, because he was tough and a man and he could handle the best dick he’d gotten in years, even if it meant facing some minor trauma he might have picked up in prison. He was fine. His fingers slid over Micha’s thick, beautiful hard on. “Give it to me,” he whispered into the kiss, and he meant it.
“I don’t think–” Micha began, swallowing. “I want your mouth, okay? We can do the other stuff–later.”
“Okay,” Jake said. He was just happy Micha was still here, in his arms, warm and solid and someone to hold onto.
He really loved that Micha was still here.
His body was into it, Jake’s eager wet mouth on his dick, sliding against it slow and savoring every inch. Micha made a point not to lift his hips on the bed, shove it deeper. He allowed Jake to control the pace, and watched Jake’s face carefully as he did, raking his fingers through Jake’s light hair as he did.
“You’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth, Jesus," Micha told him and meant it, his voice rough with something other than arousal.
His head was fucked up over the way Jake had cried and come at the same time, the way Jake joked about it like it wasn’t a big deal, when clearly–clearly it seemed to be a big deal. Micha had always thought of himself as too soft for the world, too easily open and vulnerable about his thoughts and feelings and everything. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get to the core of Jake this soon, this easily. Jake hid everything beneath effortless lies and casual jokes and Micha had been fine with that, knowing that they were both fucked up enough to maybe take things slowly, maybe part before they truly got too close and intimate with one another.
But now Jake–fuck, Jake. Jake moaning around his cock, fingers running over the hair on Micha’s thighs, making him shiver. Micha’s body was into it, but his brain was completely fucking gone, wanting to cry and hold Jake and demand that he tell him everything about prison, everything about his childhood, everything that made him who he was in front of Micha today.
He wasn’t going to do that. “You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart, fuck. You’re taking me in so deep, I’m so fucking close–”
Jake hummed and relaxed his throat enough to allow Micha in and fuck–it was too much. “Don’t get greedy,” Micha warned him, but he wasn’t going to pull Jake by the hair or nudge his chin. He was going to allow Jake to take whatever he needed from Micha, and if Micha had to squeeze his eyes shut and come down Jake’s throat, knowing it was too much, knowing Jake didn’t have to deepthroat him like he was living in a porno, he’d just have to deal. He wasn’t going to upset the balance. That wouldn’t be right for Jake right now.
He came with a shudder and a low, muttered Polish curse. Jake’s grin afterwards was so wide and satisfied, proud of himself. “I want to fuck you, but I think we can leave that for next time,” he said and pressed a wet kiss over Micha’s hip bone. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, we should nap,” Micha said. “Then I can go and pick up Sasha.”
“A nap sounds so fucking good right now.” Jake moved up the bed, and slipped beneath the covers as Micha pulled them down. “C’mere.”
They kissed and Micha’s head still spun. Jake was scrawnier than he’d looked beneath his rich, well-tailored clothes. His shirt hid a thin scar along his ribs. He was still muscled and his skin was soft, even the light brown hair on his chest felt silky to Micha’s fingers. Micha couldn’t get enough, but soon Jake was asleep and all Micha could do was stare, counting the freckles on his shoulders, kissing them as his hands still explored Jake’s body, the curve of his back and the roundness of his ass. As he felt Jake sink deeper into sleep, his hands stopped roaming, but he couldn’t sleep himself. Not after all that he had seen of Jake, all that he still wanted to see.
He eventually tore himself out of bed and walked around Jake’s small house. Everything looked like it had been purchased off an interior decor magazine’s pages. Carefully matched, but completely impersonal. Over the past year Micha had sometimes felt as if he was living someone else’s life, stuck in an impersonation of a devoted father when all he wanted was for Sasha to have his actual father back, imperfect and stupid though he may have been, god rest his fucking soul. But now it occurred to him that Jake was actually living an impersonation – of success, of being put-together, of wealth that he didn’t know what to do with now that it was earned and not stolen.
Maybe, or maybe Jake was fine, and Micha was projecting his own feeling of being thoroughly lost onto Jake’s trauma.
“Hey,” he heard behind him when he was in the kitchen, staring at the near-empty fridge. Two beer cans, one bottle of champagne, three bottles of electrolyte drinks and one lemon.
He turned and saw Jake in a soft-looking brown t-shirt and khaki shorts. “Hey,” Micha said. “You’re up. I couldn’t really sleep.” He cleared his throat. “Your home is nice.”
“Sure,” Jake said and reached into the fridge to grab the electrolyte drink. “So I was thinking–of course you can fuck me next time, I just gotta prepare for it, you know? But I’m a verse at heart so you know I gotta also plow that ass.”
His hand smacked Micha’s ass over his underwear, a tight little slap that make desire flare in Micha’s gut. “Sounds good,” he ground out, because discussing sex was a hell of a lot easier than talking about anything else, or asking Jake all that he wanted to know about him. “Are we going to talk about it?” he said eventually, because he’d just bared his soul to Jake, and was a little bit hopeful that Jake might do the same, despite all his hesitations, despite all of his innate insincere Jakeness.
“Talk about what?” Jake’s smile didn’t fade. “Oh, my little episode? That’s like–not even anything. Don’t worry about that. Was that why you were so fucking gentle when I blew you?”
“No,” Micha said. “I just like you–your mouth. You’re really good at that.”
Jake winked at him. “World class cocksucker, right? Don’t take it easy on me, baby. I fucking love it when you fuck my mouth, alright?”
He landed a brief kiss on Micha’s lips, before taking a swig from his drink. “I’ll drive you to Lucy’s. Let’s hope she hasn’t fed poor Sasha spinach or something. Hey, you want to go and get something from a drive through? I’m kind of starving.”
Micha nodded, and went back to the bedroom to pull his old clothes back on. He looked at the bed and felt his whole world tilt at the memory of Jake beneath his mouth and tight around his fingers. He ran a hand over his face. He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it. Jake was fine, wasn’t he? Jake was dealing with everything. He should worry about his own shit, he sure had enough of it to worry about.
Once Micha had been dropped off at Lucy’s, Jake was going to look up heart attack symptoms because something weird was squeezing his heart so fucking tight in his chest and he couldn’t handle it. But he kept the mood light in the car as they got burgers and fries and drove out of the burger joint parking lot, having finished eating.
Jake kept his eyes on the rearview mirror because he’d noticed the same blue sedan follow him two turns. The next light turned yellow, as he pushed the pedal to the floor and ran a red light, speeding through the next intersection.
“What the fuck was that?” Micha asked, brows tight together.
“What?” Jake asked, flashing a grin. “That was a tactical red. Some fucking Kia was following us.”
“A tactical red?” Micha repeated. “Seemed like a regular red to me. You could have killed someone, Jake!”
“No, I’m very careful about that. A tactical red is when you speed at yellow to drop the next car following your ass at the red light. Think about it. You see one car speed through a red, but you rarely see two unless it’s a chase and the cops are coming right behind them.” Jake tilted his head. “A tactical red.”
“Wait. You think you’re being followed?” Micha looked confused. “By who?”
“It’s more like I pretend I’m being followed and I make sure to shake them off every time. As a precaution.” Jake shrugged. “I ratted some motherfuckers out, you know? It could happen. It might even be inevitable.”
“What the fuck,” Micha breathed out. “No, it’s not inevitable. I had the mob kill my brother and sister-in-law, and I don’t think I’m being followed. You’re paranoid.”
Jake felt the squeeze tighter. “Maybe I am, but so fucking what? I’m being careful.”
“You just ran a red, Jesus.” Micha buried his face in his hands. “Okay. You know what? That happened. Let’s just move on.”
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Jake joked. Because he kind of was, but with good reason. He just didn’t want to talk about those reasons. “Or do you think you’re crazy for sticking your dick in crazy?”
“No, Jake, you’re not– You’re just you.” Micha looked at him, and Jake kept his eyes on the road. The squeeze got even tighter, fuck. “You’re fine. We've all got our own things to deal with, you know?”
“If I’m crazy, please don’t stop sticking your dick in crazy,” Jake told him with a grin. “I’m pretty into it when you do.”
“I’m pretty into it as well,” Micha said, and then they were at Lucy’s house, which thank fuck, because Jake was dying of a heart attack, or a heart squeeze, or whatever the fuck.
Micha picked up the little Sasha, fast asleep next to Linnea as Lucy whispered to him all that they had done and eaten and explained to him the things she couldn’t understand when Sasha had broken into rapid Polish at one time.
“I think he just missed you,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “But it went well otherwise. How was your date?”
Jake grinned, his mouth stretching wide, which made her hold up a hand.
“Nevermind. Glad you had fun.”
“Yeah,” Micha said. “Thank you. Sincerely.”
Well, wasn’t this lovely? Jake got laid, the kids got to play together and Micha had a night off from childcare for the first time in a year. He drove home, happier than he’d been in a long while and little by little, the squeeze became lighter in his chest. It was fine; he was fine. Sure, some of his gross vulnerability had leaked out of him in form of tears, but all he had to do was let Micha fuck him while facing away, head buried in a pillow so if he got all weird about it again he wouldn’t let Micha see it. Jake could definitely handle that.
Jake wasn’t a complete mess. He was as great as any guy who had done time and gotten a little bit prison raped could be. Come to think of it, he was probably an exemplary case. He could definitely get fucked by Micha’s deliciously thick cock so hard his brain would melt, and then he could fuck Micha and their absolutely perfect fuck-based relationship could continue. And then they would part ways, and he’d be fine with that, too.
Jake was perfectly alright. The squeeze got lighter as he fell asleep, and by the morning it was gone, except when he thought about Micha in his bed, warm and solid against his own body. His bed had never felt empty with just his own body in it. So that was weird.
But Jake was fine, and he drove to work, keeping his eye on the rearview mirror. Just in case. Did Micha think he was crazy? Did Micha know just how crazy he was? And maybe the most important question: did it matter?
When he got to work, he was confused to find Andrea looking like death and shaking her head over her takeaway coffee. “Well, the Lake Crest house isn’t selling,” she told Jake.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
But then he rounded the corner into the office and found Pitr there with a familiar figure.
Jake breathed out a laugh. “Brad, my guy, you’ve got to stop stalking me. It’s over between us.”
Bradley didn’t look amused. “Jake, I think someone’s in danger.”
Micha’s head was swimming with the frantic explanation that he’d gotten from Jake and the more measured one he was getting from Bradley. There were standing at one end of the playground, with one eye on Sasha, playing calmly in the sandpit.
“So let me understand this correctly,” Micha repeated. His own voice sounded alien to him, rough and emotional around the edges. The same fear that made his heart beat faster was present in his voice. “You were following Jake.”
“He’s so obsessed with me,” Jake said, earning himself a hard look from Bradley, whose slim arms were tightly folded against his chest.
“I thought he was running a scheme again. I just wanted to be sure.”
Jake groaned. “Nobody in this country believes in the reformative power of prison.”
Micha kept looking at Bradley. “And instead of finding whatever you thought you might find, you found out someone was tailing Jake as well.”
Bradley nodded. “Except they weren’t tailing Jake. When you two met up and subsequently parted ways, the car followed you, not him.”
“Fuck,” Micha breathed out. He didn’t know what else to say.
Jake’s hand came up to slide over his shoulder, gripping it. “Look, it’s okay. It’s going to be fine. The fuckers didn’t find you, because there was a minor accident. Both they and Bradley’s car were stuck behind it. They don’t know where you live, and because of Brad, we now know who they are.”
“Unfortunately, who they are is a big part of the problem.” Bradley unfolded a piece of paper with a printed out photo of a woman and a man. “Janette and Jim Carrusso. They do–they take care of people.”
Micha didn’t have to ask what that meant. “So they’re after Sasha.”
Jake made a frantic movement with his hands. “No, no, no, fuck that. They don’t know about him–or rather, we think they don’t care about him. They’ve probably been hired by the people who–y’know–your brother. But we doubt the child is the target, because–” He trailed off and cleared his throat, because the part he didn’t want to say, Micha knew, was that if the child was the target he might already be dead. Jake continued. “They posed as potential buyers at my job to find out more about me.”
“Yes, Jake, the real tragedy here is that you can’t sell a house.” Bradley leaned against the fence and addressed Micha. “Are you against going to the authorities about this?”
Jake rolled his eyes as Micha also shook his head. “No cops. No CPS. I can take Sasha and just–” Words got stuck in his throat. He had to protect Sasha, but he couldn’t think of a place that felt safe enough. Chicago with his uncle was the first place they might look next. What else was there? Home, far away, maybe. “He just needs a passport.”
“Wow, wait, let’s not– You want to leave the country? Now?” Jake looked upset.
Micha nodded. “To protect Sasha, yes.”
“Sasha is–” Jake ran a hand over his face, looking distraught. “Okay, what do you need? I’ve got a guy.”
Bradley let out a groan. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Then don’t fucking listen,” Jake snapped at him. “He can definitely get rid of these two. No problem. I'll get money to him and it's as good as done. You can continue life as usual.”
“No, the family who hired them to track me down this far might not give up so easily.” Micha pushed aside the thought of this continuing; the running, the hiding, the fear of something or somewhere breathing down his back. “If you want to help me, help me get Sasha his passport back.”
“And then what?” Jake asked.
“At home we’ll have others around to help us.” Micha avoided both his and Bradley’s gaze. “Family.”
“Holy shit,” Jake breathed out. “You are fucking mob after all.”
“Jake,” Bradley groaned. “That is not what he said.”
“Shush, good citizen, the criminals are talking.” Jake’s mouth slid back into his usual, easy grin. “Okay, do you need a fake passport? Because that might take some time–”
“No, the real one is back in Chicago with my uncle. Along with my own. If I can get those, and some plane tickets–”
“You got it.”
Micha looked at him. Why was Jake helping him so much? This whole thing had nothing to do with him, despite the couple using him to get to Micha. He supposed Jake felt guilty about that fact, and wanted to repay Micha in some way. But it wasn’t Jake’s fault, and it wasn’t really Micha’s fault. Ultimately the blame lay in a gravesite with his brother.
Jake was already explaining to him the route they would take to Chicago, which roads to use to avoid being found and how fast they could get there. Micha held up a hand. “Wait, what about Sasha?”
Jake grasped him by the shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. Sasha is staying in a locked home with some ludicrously expensive private security with his best friend Linnea. It’s going to be a day of driving one way, and we’ll be back in like two days. My sister owes me this one.”
“It’s not necessary,” Micha began, but Jake wasn’t taking a no for an answer on this one.
“Think about it from his perspective. His short life is about to dramatically change again. Maybe it would be best to let him have a fun couple of days before that, you know?” Jake looked at Micha, wide-eyed.
Fuck it, Micha thought. Whatever he did to protect Sasha was going to disrupt the lovely existence he’d just spent all this time building. Sasha was finally happy; let him be happy a few more days, before breaking him the news that life was going to be turned upside down again. Micha hated himself for it, but he could also promise himself that things would settle down in Poland. He’d get Sasha someone to help. Maybe several someones. Back home he could probably afford it.
Bradley took a step or two closer and leveled Micha with a look. “I’m really sorry about all this. If you’re sure you don’t want me to go to the authorities, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Can you get us a gun?” Jake asked, and although his tone was light, Bradley gave him a severe stare. “What? You’re just jealous you’re not dating someone from the mob.”
“I’m not the mob,” Micha said, although it wasn’t strictly speaking true. He just didn’t want Bradley to know everything about him. Jake was different, as he might understand this world a little bit more.
To his surprise, though, Bradley nodded. “If that’s what you need.”
Jake looked delighted. “Hell yes, Bradley Warden is joining the dark side. I’m calling Lucy and letting her know about all of this. She's going to love babysitting because that means she can't fuck her husband. You guys know how the straights are.”
Micha stood by and watched as Bradley left the playground. As if moving on autopilot, he eventually picked up Sasha and got in the car with him, explaining to the kid that he was going to be sleeping at Linnea’s house for a few days. He let Jake drive them to the apartment to pick up some essentials and then drive back to Lucy’s house. She greeted them at the door, eyes narrow with concern even as the two toddlers squealed happily at the sight of one another.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Micha asked her as he handed over the bag with Sasha’s extra clothes and toys in it.
Lucy took the bag and held it against her chest. “Yes, of course. Jake told me everything on the phone.”
“She owes me a lot,” Jake said.
“Shut up,” Lucy shushed him.
“And if I get shot, you’ll be the first one to know.”
“First one to celebrate, too.”
Anders looked at the two of them and said something in Swedish, which shut both siblings up. “Drive safely,” he told Jake in English before looking at Micha and nodding.
“You guys, relax,” Jake said, nudging Anders. “It’s just a little mortal peril and a road trip to escape a pair of assassins, that’s all. The kids will be fine and we’ll make a nice vacation of it.”
Micha couldn’t help it, smiling despite himself. Jake’s energy didn’t match his own, but he guessed on some level Jake was also scared shitless. This was a man who was constantly checking if he was being followed, only to find out he actually was. Micha couldn’t imagine what that was like, even if Jake had not been the ultimate target of the people following him.
Jake reached out and brushed his hand over Micha’s elbow. His grin was unwavering. “Let’s go?”
Micha took a deep breath in. “Yeah, let’s go.”
And off they were.
Running from a pair of assassins felt so much better than running from the law. With their borrowed handgun in the glove compartment and enough cash, just in case, to get them to Chicago and back, Jake felt at ease. Just himself, Micha and the road. What else did they need?
“Once you get your documents,” Jake began, leaning back in the driver’s seat, “you’re headed abroad somewhere? Mexico?”
Micha shook his head. “I was thinking home.”
Something tightened in Jake’s stomach. “Poland? You said you haven’t been back in a forever, though. Is that really–”
“For Sasha.” Micha dropped his head. “It’s better for him.”
“Until things blow over?” Jake drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Might take a month or two. I don’t know. And then you can come back to California or Chicago or wherever.”
Micha fell quiet, before looking at Jake. “I wasn’t thinking about coming back.”
“Oh, okay.” The twisting feeling in his guts got worse. Jake fiddled with the A/C settings. Of course it made perfect fucking sense that Micha wouldn’t come back. He had to do what was right for the kid, and that was that, and now that he’d been found in California he obviously felt nowhere in the US would be safe enough. It made sense.
It just didn’t make sense to Jake. “I was just thinking, Sasha has such a nice life right now. You said it yourself. He’s been sleeping better.”
“Jake.” Micha’s voice dropped an octave. “Don’t try to talk me out of this.”
“I’m not,” Jake insisted. “I just know what it’s like to run away, and feel like you always need to be running.”
“How far did you end up running?”
“Arizona.”
Micha laughed. “That’s not very far.”
“I wasn’t very smart back then.” Jake grinned, and Micha returned it.
“You’re smarter now?”
“Marginally.”
This made Micha laugh and Jake felt the tightness loosen in him. He couldn’t change Micha’s mind about this. He understood this put a definite limit onto the length of their relationship, and that part was fine by him. He’d always known it would be temporary, starting from physical attraction and stopping when he knew he’d had his fill. He couldn’t talk Micha out of leaving, and he wasn’t crazy enough to leave with him, and leave his absolutely perfect life behind, just for some ass.
Even if it was some unbelievable premium ass, he was sure of it.
By the time they pulled up to a motel by the side of the road, Micha looked exhausted. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms while Jake handed out cash at the reception. The place was dingy, but not the worst place Jake had stayed in. It looked maintained, not completely dilapidated, and when he turned on the lights upon entering, no roaches scattered.
“Are you hungry?” Jake asked. They’d stopped for food, but that had been about five hours ago.
“No, I’m fine.” Micha looked too big for the room, even with his head ducked and his shoulders hunched, both hands running through his hair in quick succession. Jake felt a frisson of arousal, watching the way the muscles in Micha’s arms moved from the motion. “You’ve done a lot for me, Jake.”
“No, I haven’t.” Jake wasn’t the type of guy to do good things and get nothing out of it for himself. He wasn’t the type to do good things for anyone, period. He preferred it that way.
“Come here.” Micha’s eyes met his, all dark and inviting, but also clearly tired from the drive. His arms folded around Jake when he stepped close, enveloping him. Micha felt warm and smelled of wood and something peppery.
Jake wanted to drown in him and tilted his own head up for a kiss. Micha obliged, kissing him far too softly, like instead of fucking Jake he just wanted to take care of him. Jake silently cursed himself and his fucked up emotional episode. He would now have to show Micha he was not only man enough to take a little fingering without getting all traumatized and soppy about it, but that he’d appreciate Micha’s thick cock in any form given.
“Can I fuck you?” Jake asked, pulling back from the kiss. His hand dropped from Micha’s hip to his ass, grabbing a hold that made his point very clear.
“I’m kind of tired,” Micha started, but then the look in his eyes shifted. “Although I've been thinking about it a lot since the last time. If that’s what you need, Jake.”
Jake didn’t need anything. Jake wanted Micha. This wasn’t about what Jake needed, because the only thing he’d ever need was money and a way to keep making more money. His therapist was right; he wasn’t the guy who needed some stupid human connection. The kind he needed ended at the base of his dick.
And for that, Micha was perfect. “You’re so sweet,” Jake told him, squeezing harder as he felt Micha gasp and harden against him. “Go shower.”
The tops of Micha’s cheeks glowed pink, but he did as told, pulling off his shirt and dropping his jeans onto the carpeted floor. Jake watched him as he undressed himself, as the heavy knot tightened in his abdomen. Micha was so beautiful, all hardened skin and sharp angles, manly and powerful, frightening and reliable all at once. Jake wanted to lick him and fuck him and own him, have Micha a begging, sobbing mess beneath him, promising Jake he’d never leave him, and then he wanted to feel those strong hands on himself, a threat of violence bleeding into the promise of pleasure, long fingers curling against his neck.
God, Jake knew he was gone. His cock was so hard it ached, a heavy pulse begging him to get a hand on his own cock and pump some of the pressure off. But he didn’t want to lose the momentum, didn’t want to do anything but slide on the condom just in case Micha was as ready for him as Jake was for him.
When Micha returned, still red in the face, hair still dripping, Jake pushed him on the bed. “Do you need me to work you open, baby?” Jake’s hand slid down Micha’s thighs, prodding them open. Micha’s ass was so pretty beneath him.
“I’m okay,” Micha mumbled, arms holding onto the pillow. “You’re not the type to go gentle, are you?”
Jake laughed. “For you, I can go as gentle and slow as you want, baby.” He reached for the lube at the end of the bed and rubbed a drop between two fingers before pressing it between Micha’s ass cheeks, feeling him jolt. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Micha admitted. “I normally–” He quieted down, but Jake understood.
His head spun, and he steadied himself, palm pressing against the small of Micha’s back as he spread the lube against the tight hold of Micha’s rim. Jake’s cock throbbed at the feel of it. He leaned over Micha, mouth pressing a wet kiss on Micha’s shoulder. “You don’t like it sweet, do you? You want it rough, the same way you fuck guys. You want to feel me everywhere.”
“Jake.” Micha’s voice hitched when Jake finally pressed in.
Fuck, Micha really was perfect. Jake stayed in the moment, the unbearable tight heat around his dick, the gaspy moans Micha made. Instead of pulling back up, Jake stayed draped over Micha, arms holding himself up as he lifted his hips to thrust deeper in. He wanted to last, but Micha was perfect on his cock, so good beneath him. The backs of his thighs flexed as Jake fucked deeper into him, bottoming out so his balls touched Micha’s own.
“Holy fuck,” Micha said, then something incomprehensible in Polish.
Jake kept at it, harder, pistoning thrusts to feel his hips meet Micha’s ass, to have Micha tighten around his cock again, the best fucking feeling.
“That’s right,” Jake muttered as his world was already unraveling, but his body still worked. He rolled his hips faster and faster into Micha, but stayed close. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re so goddamn perfect. Only for me, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Micha said, delirious himself.
Jake’s arms slid around him, holding tighter. “Only for me.” He didn’t know what he was saying and he couldn’t be blamed for it. He was lost in the feeling, and then the tightness in his core grew unbearable. Jake crescendoed and flew off, and then Micha turned his head and kissed him, mouth open as he swallowed every embarrassing cry that came out of Jake.
He was fine. Micha hadn’t wrecked him, he’d wrecked Micha instead.
Still dazed, Jake pulled out, gritting his teeth at the way his dick had gone so fucking sensitive. He tossed the condom and moved Micha to his side. His hand wrapped around Micha’s cock, pink and hot in Jake’s grasp, and he kissed Micha again, tugging at him sloppily once or twice. Micha groaned and shivered against him, his orgasm wrung out.
“You’re perfect,” Micha murmured afterwards as Jake cleaned him, kissed him, tucked him into bed like a good top would. Micha drew him near once he got on the bed himself, pulling Jake’s body against his own, already warm and heavy with sleepiness.
“Sleep, we’ll start our drive early tomorrow.” He pushed his fingers into Micha’s hair and caressed the silken strands. It was tender and he felt stupid for believing in it, even for a goddamn moment.
It wasn’t anything other than the good dick talking. Jake wasn’t perfect and Micha could pretend to be sweet and pliant under him, but they were both hardened by the world in ways they couldn’t ever get away from, and why would they even try? People said all sorts of wild things after they’d gotten laid.
Micha’s head pressed into the crook of his shoulder and neck, nose inhaling Jake’s skin. It felt nice. It would not last, but for now it was just really nice.
Micha woke up with his nose pressed against the nape of Jake’s neck, his arm flung around Jake’s waist. It was warm and he could feel his arm rise and fall with each of Jake’s breaths. He wet his lips and felt sleep still weigh down his eyelids. He didn’t want to get up, but they needed to complete the drive to Chicago and just do the things they needed to get done.
He indulged in a brief fantasy of sliding his hands down Jake’s body and taking his cock in hand. He guessed Jake would be half-hard like himself, and his hand could easily stroke Jake into full length, before opening his thighs and getting comfortable between them. Micha’s cock filled up against Jake’s ass as he imagined sucking on Jake’s cock while fingering him, lazy and slow like they didn’t have to hurry at all. In his fantasy, Jake would whimper and moan softly, and if he cried like last time, it would be from pleasure. He’d come in Micha’s mouth as Micha would fuck his hole with two fingers, and then Micha would raise himself onto his knees and bend Jake’s body beneath his own. He’d replace his slick fingers with the head of his cock and sink down into Jake, feeling every bit of him, feeling him gasp and adjust, his hands running up Micha’s arms, his mouth panting with each thick inch going in.
Jesus. Micha turned away from Jake, rolling off the bed. The fantasy got too far ahead of him, his cock now aching and pulsing. He pushed it down with one hand, the touch electric.
Micha sighed and thought deeply unarousing thoughts, which thankfully he had a whole bank of. Anxiety and fear around what the future might look like took care of his arousal a little too quickly, and then the guilt set in. He shouldn’t want things that Jake clearly had an issue with, despite his eager agreement. Jake was still a puzzle and Micha wasn’t sure he had the time to solve him.
He washed his face and brushed his teeth naked in the small motel bathroom, looking past the open door to see Jake stirring in bed.
Jake opened one eye. “We don’t have time for a second fuck, do we?”
Micha shook his head.
“Shame.” Jake sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Being on the run gets me so fucking hot.”
Micha snorted. “I’m going to shower.”
Under the warm, low pressure spray he thought about what Jake had said. It didn’t get him hot to be on the run, but it was torturous to have this time with Jake along with the accompanying awareness that time was running out. The urgency spurred his desire and maybe it did the same for Jake.
When he got out, and stepped to the side so Jake could go in himself, Jake’s hands slid over his hips, brushing the damp skin. “What do you want to do?”
The question was low and seductive, Jake’s lips drawing close enough to touch Micha’s ear. He fought a shiver, feeling his pulse pick up speed at Jake’s nearness. They didn’t have time for more, not now anyway. Chicago was less than a day’s drive away.
“I want to know what happened to you.” The truth burst out of him, just like that.
Jake’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What do you mean? You got a file on me, buddy. I think you know just about everything.”
“I meant, when you cried–” Micha swallowed. “I’m not going to just forget that happened, you know.”
“Jesus.” Jake ducked his head. “I’m going to take a shower now. We need to get on the road as soon as possible, right?”
“Right,” Micha agreed.
“Drive-through breakfast and then we’re off.” Jake walked past him and turned the water before stepping under the spray.
“Good plan.”
Micha dried himself and put on his clothes, chiding himself for bringing it up. Of course Jake didn’t have to discuss it with him. What did Jake owe him, really? He was the one who was being aided at every turn by Jake and his family. It was exactly as Jake said–Micha already knew everything about him. The deepest recesses of Jake’s mind weren’t things Micha should have access to. They weren’t lovers, they were just–they were just like this, temporarily.
Talking about something was not going to kill him, something the stupid prison psychologist always said. So why did it make Jake’s body feel like he was dying? Whatever. He wasn’t going to talk to that doctor ever again.
Micha was driving this stretch, freshly caffeinated and his arms looking great as turned the wheel.
“Have you been in jail before?” Jake asked.
Micha shrugged. “They held me and my cousin once, trying to pin something on us. It didn’t go anywhere, so we got out pretty quickly.”
“That’s good.” Jake took a deep breath. “Because it’s not a fun place, I’ll tell you that.”
“I can imagine.” Micha glanced at him, then returned his eyes to the road. “My uncle’s been a few times. So that’s where–” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t find the words.
Jake hated this. He hated all of it, and yet the words started flooding out of him. “It wasn’t a big deal. Some jerkoff just wanted company for the night and decided to catch me unaware. He pinned me down and I didn’t have a weapon on me, so I couldn’t fight back.”
“Fuck,” Micha breathed out. “Jake–”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” Jake gripped both knees with his hands. “A little prison rape, all a part of the authentic jail experience, you know?”
“That’s horrible,” Micha said. “Did you get help–”
“Help? You know this was in prison? The fuck was I going to do, rat him out when it didn’t do anything but mark me as a future target?” Jake’s hands weren’t shaking. He wasn’t going to let them. “I slept with a shank the rest of the way. Some nights I didn’t sleep. No big deal.”
“Okay,” Micha said. “I’m pulling over, the next chance I get.”
“Keep driving,” Jake told him. “I’m not letting my life get fucking wrecked by a little thing like this. That’s not who I am.”
“Of course,” Micha agreed. “I’m still pulling over.”
Jake wasn’t going to get angry with Micha, because it wasn’t Micha’s fault. He wasn’t some poor fucker just who would never get over this. So what if he couldn’t get fingered by a beautiful man without bursting into tears? So what? Some people had it much worse than he did. He was rich and his life was fine, much more than a lot of excons could say for themselves.
Micha pulled over and unbuckled his seatbelt and then suddenly his arms were around Jake, even though Jake didn’t want his pity. “You’re shaking,” Micha murmured in his hair, but fuck that, Jake was doing fine. Micha said his name, repeating until his voice choked out and he tilted Jake’s head back to kiss him, kiss him so hard it hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” Micha spoke against his mouth. “I should’ve stopped when you–”
“You should stop when I say stop,” Jake said. “Other than that, you don’t need to stop. We’re just having sex, I’m not having war flashbacks.”
“Jake,” Micha said, and Jake hated how soft he sounded.
“You should fuck me,” Jake said, pushing Micha’s arms off him. “When we get to the next hotel. I’ll enjoy it.”
“We don’t have to,” Micha started, but Jake cut him off. None of this poor little victim bullshit. He was done with it.
“We should. We will.” Jake wanted it, almost as much as he wanted Micha to not go. Maybe if he showed himself he could do this, he’d show something more to Micha as well, convince him to find another way back to him.
It was so stupid, because getting fucked wasn’t going to heal him, but he wanted to try it so much it made his skin itch. He was determined to make it happen. A fuck you to his body who refused to behave in ways he wanted it to, who made a victim out of him just because it decided it could.
Fuck that. Jake was going to be better than that.
It was an odd feeling to be back in Chicago. They parked the car somewhere close and observed the laundromat that Micha's uncle used as his office, beneath two apartments he owned. They circled it for a while, not going in and just seeing whether his uncle was in at all. He wasn't.
“We should go in at night,” Jake said.
“What we need is in the upstairs apartment.” Micha nodded. “We can go through the backdoor after dark. I don't have the key, though. We'd need to break in.”
“Oh, old school, I love it.” Jake just grinned, like he'd been issued a challenge. “I haven't broken in anywhere for decades.”
Micha shook his head. “Not the time for nostalgia, Jake. Can you do it?”
“Of course I fucking can.” Jake gave him a scrunched up expression, like he was insulted that Micha thought he couldn't commit every single crime on planet earth.
Under the cover of night, they went around the building through the narrow alley and found the back door. It was sturdy, but the lock looked conventional. Jake crouched down to have a look at it, illuminating the lock with the light from his phone flashlight.
Jake stood back up, letting out a sigh. “Actually, you know what, this looks kind of difficult. It’s pick-proofed from the other side of the lock.”
Micha ran a hand over his face. “What the fuck. So you can’t open it?”
“Didn’t say I couldn’t,” Jake replied reassuringly. “Just means it might be difficult. His grin gleamed in the dim light of the street. “And then you’ll be more impressed with me when I do open it.”
Micha’s heart lurched to one side. “Jake, just get the damn door open.”
Jake crouched down again, bending a knee onto the concrete step to get a better view. He pressed his ear closer to the lock. Even though there were sounds coming from the vicinity, Micha could hear the click when the lock opened. The sheer relief of it made his shoulders sink on the next exhale. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been tense.
“Are you impressed?” Jake asked, back to full height again.
“I was already impressed with you.” Micha’s hand found the small of Jake’s back as he leaned in closer. The kiss was brief, but electric, making the hairs on his forearms stand up. He didn’t know Jake, even though it sometimes felt very much like he did; understanding the thrill that Jake got out of crime, so different from the stressful anxiety that he himself had always had about skirting on the edges of the law. Jake was built to handle that anxiety, he thrived on it, and yet he gave it up until Micha lured him back in.
Guilt settled in his stomach, but he pushed past it. The door opened and he lead Jake up the stairs to the apartment, where the lock opened with the old credit card slide between the door and the latch.
The apartment smelled of dust, like it hadn’t been occupied since Micha left it. This was strange; he’d have thought his uncle would have moved in, or at least kept it clean. He went to find the passports and quickly discovered them in the brown envelope he’d left them after his brother’s death. His own and Sasha’s, along with some documents about Sasha that may become useful down the line, his birth certificate and a document translating that to Polish. His mother, rest her soul, had always intended to take the boy to Poland, even if she didn’t have much family left there, either.
Micha’s chest was momentarily gripped by the thought of the mess that might await him in Poland. The child didn’t belong to him, but nor did he belong with relatives he’d never even met. He felt such an overwhelming responsibility to make sure that things would be as fine as they could be for Sasha, even if they couldn’t be perfect.
He slipped the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket, securing it with the zipper.
“Let’s go, this is it. I’ve got everything I needed,” he told Jake and nudged him back out the door.
“Shh,” Jake whispered. “I think there’s someone out in the hallway.”
“Michal?” someone called out in a familiar voice. For some reason, hearing his uncle Bartek’s voice in this context sent a chill down Micha’s spine as opposed to warmth of relief in his chest.
He opened the door slowly and saw his uncle, hair messy and looking more harried than usual. “Hi, uncle,” he ground out in Polish, feeling the shape of his mouth adjust to the different language, relax around the old consonants. “I was just leaving.”
“Who’s this?” Bartek asked, tilting his head towards Jake.
Jake had enough sense not to grin or cut the tension with a joke. He stuck out his hand. “Jake Quinze,” he said in English, glancing at Micha. “Friend.”
Bartek didn’t respond and instead looked back at Micha. Something about the situation felt off. How did his uncle just happen to be here at this moment, this evening of all evenings? But Micha did not want to give him the full story, the connection with Jake, the assassins that found him. So he settled for a question he didn’t care about knowing the answer to. “How are you?”
“I thought they found you,” Bartek said, stuttering over the last word.
“Who?” Micha asked, even though he knew. That’s why the chill down his spine. That’s why–it all suddenly made sense, the little pieces that hadn’t locked together, when he’d been so careful in such a big fucking country. His blood cooled. “You told them.”
“I had no choice,” Bartek said. “Don’t you dare blame this on me. If Maria hadn’t started using that fucking shit, none of this would have happened. I got her out of debt with my money, but she kept– she kept–” Bartek took a deep breath. “So I told someone I could trust–a friend who works in the industry–that we needed money. And that’s when Milorad volunteered–”
“Wait, what the hell,” Micha spat out. “You were the contact? You gave him the job?”
“I didn’t make him do a single thing,” Bartek said angrily. “He said he’d take care of it. He fucked up. That’s not on me.”
“You connected him with them,” Micha said, his anger rising. His heart picked up pace as his head felt like it was boiling. “Not only did Radek did because of it, but Mira, too. She had nothing to do with it.”
Bartek raised his shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sorry, but someone around here has to get things done. You can blame your fuck up of a sister.”
Micha was this close to launching at him, when Jake’s arm shot out in front of him, holding him back when he took a step closer. “Easy there,” Jake murmured. “Come on. I get it. Let’s just go.”
“If you told them,” Micha started, but he didn’t have to finish. If he told them once he’d tell them again. Which meant that he was in danger. “We need to go,” he said to Jake, switching back to English.
“Is the child with you?” Bartek asked. “They were going to bring him to me when they found him. I wasn’t going to let them kill him. But you know how old-fashioned those people are, eye for an eye.”
“Fuck you,” Micha said and brushed past him, pulling Jake behind him.
He didn’t think his uncle would pull a gun on them, even though he knew he had one. He knew it now better than ever; always too cowardly to do anything himself, and on family, too. Anger fueled his steps down the stairs, out the door into the fresh, cool air of the night. And then he heard steps, heavy against the rainsoaked asphalt, the motion blurring in the corner of his eye.
“Oh, fuck,” Jake muttered, and grabbed Micha by the shirt. “They’re really coming for us.”
Micha didn’t need to be told to run; his feet did it on their own. He broke into a run after Jake, quicker on his feet, but always glancing back to make sure that Micha followed.
“Separate,” Jake yelled at him, but Micha knew they only had one gun, as adrenaline pushed him harder, sprinting down the still somewhat crowded street after Jake. If one of them got cornered, they needed that gun to have a chance.
Jake took a quick turn to a side street, which would lead them back to their car. Micha could feel his leg muscles burning, but he kept going. He briefly glanced back at who–if anyone–was chasing them, but he could only make out the blur of a face, black jacket, black hair, black eyebrows against white skin. It wasn’t the assassins who Jake had met as house buyers, as Bradley had had pictures of them. This was two guys, associated with the Chicago side of that family, no doubt.
When the first shot rang out on the side street, Micha nearly halted to check if it hit him. But the pain in his chest was familiar, that protest of his body when he pushed it uncomfortably to the limit, ran too fast without warm up. Jake wasn’t a premier athlete, but he kept going, and so Micha kept running, too, ignoring the gunshot, knowing that as long as they could get to the car, they’d be good.
Just get to the car. Jake took another turn, disappearing fast between two brick buildings, and for a moment Micha thought he’d lost him, before he saw that Jake was already in the car, one door pushed open and engine running.
Micha pushed himself for the last stretch, running as fast he fucking could and slid onto the seat, just as the bullet hit the car door. His heart was going to leap out of his chest, every single one of his breaths hurt, but he was alive and the car was moving. Jake drove, maneuvering the car fast onto the road and managing to get through the next intersections with ease.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jake said, but his voice was laughing.
“You like that? Being chased?” Micha asked, his breaths still ragged. “Fucking fuck. You didn’t even understand the conversation with my uncle.”
“I got the gist of it,” Jake said, overtaking a slower car in quite a precarious manner. “He’s an asshole, you got mad, something, something, we got shot at.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Sorry? I’m just sad I didn’t get to use Bradley’s gun to shoot back.”
“Jake,” Micha said. “I think Sasha’s in danger.”
“I’ll call them right now, tell them–” Jake paused, swallowing. “He’ll be fine, I promise.”
Micha sat back in his seat, feeling his breath even out slowly, the height of the chase evaporate into heavy, dark exhaustion. Jake put a hand over his hand on the armrest. He fell asleep as Jake drove.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, just drove and then parked outside another shitty motel in a different state and got out of the car. Micha had slept, but in stops and starts, and Jake was no longer in any condition to drive. They needed a break, even if it killed them. Jake hoped it wouldn’t kill him. The adrenaline of the encounter still burned his chest, but he was breathing, and when they finally got to the room, he could really exhale.
It was thrilling to feel the danger in all his muscles, the chase and the gunshots still ringing in his ears. It was less thrilling to know Micha felt more in danger than ever, and that he was worried about Sasha’s safety, too. Lucy had picked up the phone and explained in whisper they were fine, and the cameras on their property hadn’t shown any suspicious activity. Just in case, Jake told them to stay indoors, get groceries delivered, whatever they could until Jake and Micha got back to California. Until Micha could get Sasha on that plane and the hell away from this place.
He knew now why Micha had to leave. That didn’t mean he wanted it to happen, though.
“You should fuck me,” is what came out of his mouth as soon as the door closed on the motel room.
Micha stayed silent, giving Jake exactly the kind of long, assessing look that Jake didn't love.
“It's cool. I'm cool, trust me.” Jake understood he probably didn't look it. He was still running on adrenaline from the encounter, his hands a bit shaky. He used to get shot at all the time. Why was this time a big deal?
“We don’t have to do anything,” Micha started, hands looping around Jake’s waist. “That was a lot, let’s just sleep it off.”
Didn’t he understand anything? “I want you,” Jake said and hoped he didn’t sound too pathetic, didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt with his heart in his throat.
Micha did understand, because he sighed as his hands squeezed Jake’s body tighter. “Is this really the time?”
“Yes, it fucking is. We haven’t got much time,” Jake said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He was fine. Maybe mortal peril could be his biggest turn-on? It sure felt like it now.
Micha’s mouth curved into a dangerous grin. “Then I guess I have to fuck you so hard you’ll get your fill of me before I go.”
Yes was the only thought Jake needed in his head. Micha was big and warm and kissing him, rough hands tearing Jake’s clothes off. Jake cupped the front of Micha’s jeans, caressing the cock beneath as it grew under his touch, fattened up perfectly. He groaned against Micha’s tongue and slid his hands back up to feel the contours of Micha’s chest, the patch of hair on his perfect muscles. If only Jake could just fucking get through this and enjoy it, too. If only he could just not screw this one up, because he might not ever get two chances with Micha.
Micha pushed him onto the bed, standing over Jake’s naked form and looking every bit a menace as Jake needed him to be. “We should set some ground rules,” Micha said, unbuckling his belt, the single hottest sight Jake had ever seen.
“I’m not calling you ‘daddy’,” Jake joked, which made Micha huff out a laugh. “Unless you really want me to, daddy.”
“You’re going to tell me to stop, even if you feel a little unsure about it.” Micha was unbuttoning his jeans, slower than he needed to, one button painstakingly after the next. “Especially if you feel a little unsure about it.”
“I promise,” Jake said with a smile, “and you know I’d never lie. I want you to promise something, too.”
Micha leaned down as he stepped out of his jeans, his big hand moving over Jake’s thigh, finding his hard dick. “What is it?” Micha pushed him up the bed an inch or two, enough to sink down with his elbows on the bed and between Jake’s thighs. He didn’t hesitate, and took Jake into his mouth.
Jake sighed, his hips lifting off the bed in response. He needed more of Micha, all of Micha, his cock throbbing between his lips when Micha didn’t immediately take him all the way in. “I need you to not treat me like I’m fragile.” His face heated up, especially as Micha’s dark eyes locked onto his own, and Micha stopped sucking him deeper. It wasn’t the truth, and they both knew it. Jake was fragile all over, even when he didn’t want to be. Especially because he wished he wasn’t.
“You’re perfect,” Micha said, voice rumbling. He trailed fingers behind Jake’s balls as his mouth sank back down on Jake’s cock, and then he tugged at Jake’s sack, ever-so-gently.
Jake swore and lay back down. His hand was in Micha’s hair, combing through the soft, glossy strands as Micha took him to the root, and his hand kept working Jake’s balls. It really was unfair that if Micha set his mind to it, he could have Jake unraveling beneath him in minutes, the pressure of his hot, wet mouth working in perfect conjunction with his hand. Jake was close, feeling the familiar heavy heat working tightness into his muscles. Before he knew it, he said the thing he hadn’t meant to say at all, ever.
“Stop.” It was more a moan than a plea, but it came out of him and Micha didn’t wait. His hand slid away from Jake’s sack as he lifted his mouth off Jake’s flushed, desperate cock. The cool air of the room felt strange against the throbbing wet skin on his cock. Jake took a stubborn, panting breath. “What the fuck, Micha. I didn’t mean it. Continue.”
“Talk to me,” Micha told him and continued, his hand cupped around Jake’s balls, his mouth bobbing steadily against the length of his cock.
But Jake didn’t know what to say that wasn’t too everything. He settled for a mix of moaned praise and gasping swears. “Fuck, your mouth.. So fucking good. I’m so fucking close.” Not his best work, but his brain was melting, and at least he wouldn’t say the things he didn’t want to let out. The really stupid things, the needy, tender, warm emotion that threatened to spill out of him.
He came with a cry, fingers twisted in Micha’s hair, and when he felt loose and weightless, he felt something cool between his legs. Micha had taken him in and sucked him dry, and now his large, blunt finger was pushing into Jake, and all Jake could do was take him. His heart hammered in his chest, his hand lifted off Micha’s head, only to land uselessly against the sheets. He wouldn’t run from it. He couldn’t.
“Jesus,” he gasped when Micha inched a second finger into him.
“You’re doing so good.” Micha’s breath landed on his spent, softening dick. “You’re going to be so fucking perfect on my cock, Jake, you’ve got no idea. I’m going to take care of you, get you all stretched for me before I fuck you, alright? You’re going to love it.”
“Yes,” Jake agreed, breaths back to shallow and rapid, his chest burning with this new vulnerability.
Micha’s fingers fucked him slowly, pushing deeper with every new thrust, and his careful eyes watched Jake, flushed and stupid, writhing on the bed. He wished he’d turned around so Micha wouldn’t see all of him like this, all pink and pathetically turned on. On his stomach all Micha might see was the way his body moved, muscles shifting as he adjusted to Micha’s fingers embedded in him, deeper and constant, the pressure no longer burning a line through him.
His cock gave an impatient twitch, still soft but growing harder as Micha pushed in a third finger. Micha’s other hand moved over his thighs, his navel, all the way up to his chest. “So pretty,” Micha told him. It was cheap praise and Jake wanted to cut it down a notch, make a joke or tell him he wasn’t, he was far from pretty and perfect, and even Micha’s deep, sexy voice couldn’t convince him of the fact.
“Fuck me,” he let out, because he was ready, he had to be ready, and his whole body pulsed with a new, anxious need. He needed Micha to take him, and not watch him, not focus on all the ways he reacted and instead focus on his own need.
He turned around as Micha slipped out of him, positioning himself with his thighs apart, grasping a pillow beneath his arms. He was happier this way, a little removed from Micha’s far too intense gaze.
“What do you need?” Micha asked, his voice low and his hands spreading Jake apart.
The question felt far too large, and Jake should have hated it, should have made a joke, laughed it off somehow. Instead he mumbled against the pillow. “Can you hold me down?” Micha was big and looming above him, so Jake stretched out his arms and folded them over the small of his back. Micha’s fingers curled into a tight hold around his wrists.
“Like this?” He sounded as uncertain as Jake felt, but then he shifted his weight and oh. Jake was pinned down, his whole body pulsing with anticipation.
He was safe. Fuck, he was so safe. “Yeah,” he ground out. “Your other hand.” He lifted his neck off the pillow, an invitation that Micha took, although his hand felt soft against the tender skin, the shaky breaths Jake exhaled.
“You’re sure about this?” Micha asked. His grip tightened, but it was still loose, his thumb pressed at Jake’s pulse while his other fingers were flat against the back of his neck.
“So fucking sure.” Jake’s head was already drifting. That night it was something else at his neck, pushing into skin. Held down so tight he couldn’t fucking breathe, panic and bile mixing in his throat. But that was then and this was Micha, this was better.
“Jake,” Micha let out, his voice strained. “You’re so beautiful like this. You’re going to be so great around my cock, sweetheart.” He released the hold on Jake’s hands long enough to line the blunt head of his cock against Jake’s entrance, and rolled his hips to push in. The pressure wasn’t new, but it still made Jake’s breath catch. His hand trailed over Jake’s spine, gentle and appreciative. “Fuck, Jake,” Micha grunted and thrust in deeper, the thick invasion making Jake’s toes curl.
He knew Micha was big, had been big in Jake’s throat and on Jake’s tongue before, but it was so different to feel that thick cock inside him now. He felt every bit as vulnerable as he didn’t want to feel, even as Micha’s hand wrapped around his wrists again and leaned forward, enough to pin Jake exactly where he was.“Say it in Polish,” he gasped as Micha pushed in another inch or two, “whatever you need to say, say it in Polish.”
He was being ridiculous, a stupid to feel this vulnerable about something he’d done a million times with so many people before. As Micha began to say something softly in Polish, his thrusts gaining pace, Jake focused on breathing, letting Micha feel each breath against his hand, so many of them emerging as moans. It was good even when it was overwhelming and then he could feel Micha’s balls brush against his own, heard Micha’s groan above his head.
“Fuck, Jake,” Micha said, switching to English again.
Jake breathed and felt himself adjust and stretch around Micha, bottomed out inside of him. Micha took his time with the next movement, painfully slow and so careful it made Jake float. He was doing so well, but he needed more. He wanted Micha most of all to know that he wasn’t fragile, that he could take and take it hard and painful if he needed to, that what he needed wasn’t just his own pleasure, but to become a body for Micha to take his own pleasure from.
“Harder, come on,” he whined, but he was held down, and he couldn’t move his hips up to get more of Micha, deeper. His hole tightened around the cock, desperate, and Micha grunted at the feel of it.
“It’s so good, I need a moment.” But then Micha sighed and leaned in deeper, moving his hips to tight, pistoning thrusts, his skin slapping against Jake’s ass.
Instinctively his hands around Jake’s throat and wrists tightened. Jake floated. This was what he needed, just a writhing mess on the mess being taken to the limit he’d set himself. Micha’s cock pushed into him with all the weight in Micha’s strong body and Jake slipped away from himself, mouth open and panting and Micha there to take him and hold him and fuck him so hard that the world around them smudged at the edges.
“Jake,” Micha said his name, but then something in Polish, a mess of consonants, strangled and emotional. It was finally too much, tears stinging Jake’s eyes, but he wasn’t about to call it off when it was this good.
The black vision behind his eyelids tilted, and he crashed as Micha let go of his nape, a big hand pushing into his hair, soothing.
Micha fucked him through it, drilling Jake’s ass until he shuddered and heaved a breath, slumping over Jake’s form, emptying into the condom inside of him.
It was good, and Jake was still the perfectly selfish bastard for doing this. He’d taken what he wanted, begged for it like a little bitch, and if this was going to be the last time, he’d at least gotten what he wanted. But the empty ache returned to his chest. The last time, wasn’t it?
Micha kissed him, turning his body around beneath him and hissing as he pulled out of Jake. His body was cool with sweat and he smelled terrific, sharp and soft at once in Jake’s nose.
Micha mumbled something into the kiss, and so it was Jake’s time, if this was going to be the last time, and he only found his words in Swedish.
I like you, he said hoarsely.
Micha pulled up on his elbows and looked down at him. “What was that?”
“Your cock split me open, fucking hell.” Jake grinned, and the crease between Micha’s brows disappeared.
“The sounds you made, Jake,” Micha began, but trailed off. “We should get going.”
Jake nodded, but lifted his head to catch Micha’s mouth in another soft kiss. They didn’t have much time, but they had a little. He was going to use however little they had to the best of his abilities.
As he watched Micha finally pull himself out of bed and into the tiny shower in the bathroom, his brain cleared the fog of arousal and kicked back into gear. What if it wasn’t the last time, though? What if he could persuade Micha to do something else, go somewhere else entirely?
It might not be possible, because Micha was determined to go to Poland. But Jake was–
Jake had always been pretty convincing.
Jake kept drumming his fingers against his knees. “The thing is–do you have to go?”
Micha took his eyes off the Colorado landscape to glance at Jake, the earnest way his blue eyes had widened. It was unfair that Jake looked like that, and it was unfair that Micha now felt like he knew that this wasn’t Jake the conman, the man who lied as easily as he took a sip of water. This was Jake at his most genuine, and that part killed Micha. “Of course I have to go.”
“But if you were to go somewhere else? Not California, not Chicago, not Poland. Somewhere else.”
Micha frowned. “Jake, I’ve made up my mind. I already called your sister and she’s agreed to book us flights. We leave early tomorrow.”
“But there could be a place out there that’s safe and that’s actually better for you.” Jake fiddled with his fingers, the nerves coming through even in the corner of Micha’s eye.
“What possible place is there like that? Poland is our best option.”
“Anders and Lucy are moving back to Sweden,” Jake said, his voice tense yet light at the same time. “They thought Lucy would find a job easily in the US, but she can’t, and it’s nearly been a year. Well, eight months. Linnea knows English and that’s kind of what they wanted. They miss their friends back home, my mom’s sister still lives there–Linnea can’t ever have a grandma, but maybe she can have a great aunt. And Lucy might be pregnant again, so you know, she doesn’t want to give birth in an American hospital. It’s a nightmare, she keeps going on about it. Much better in Sweden.”
“Jake,” Micha said, to stop the rambling, but it had no effect.
“You can’t do that to Sasha, you know,” Jake continued. “His only friend in the world and now you’re leaving again. Linnea could start teaching him Swedish, he’s so young he’d learn in no time at all. You can definitely find a job, and Sweden has a whole gaggle of Poles, you’d fit right fucking in. I’d help you–” and Jake’s next inhale was unbearably shaky–”if you’d like. You might not need my help at all. You’d fit right in. I’m the only one who’s a fucking problem, but maybe Sweden doesn’t ask if I’ve been convicted at the border. If they do, maybe I’ll lie. I’m pretty good at that. I think.”
Micha felt like his heart might explode. “It’s not that easy.”
“I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m saying it’s an option.” Jake turned to look out the window, his body folding smaller and smaller in the passenger’s seat.
“I think–” Micha started to say, but he had no idea what he thought. He thought it was madness, that it might not be possible. That Jake was talking out of his ass, to present him with this supposed perfect solution to all their problems, including the one that loomed the largest: that they wouldn’t get to be together, perhaps ever. “I think. You’ve helped us so much already.”
“Well, you know, I’m a pretty helpful guy. Totally selfless, that’s kind of my whole thing.” The smile he gave Micha was fragile at best, but Micha returned it.
“Okay,” Micha said. “We’ll try it. It’s not like I’ve got friends in Poland who could help.” He swallowed. “Most of them are locked up or dead or want nothing to do with me. So if you can help, and that means moving to Sweden, I–I think I might have to try it. For Sasha, too.”
“Holy shit,” Jake said and let out a sigh. “Pull over.”
Micha did, at the earliest convenience. “What is it?”
Jake unbuckled his seatbelt and launched himself over the center console, his mouth on Micha’s. “You fucker. I have to move to Sweden for you.”
“You don’t have to,” Micha said.
“I want to,” Jake corrected.
“You really don’t have to,” Micha said, even though he knew he wanted Jake to. His heart lurched. “We’re not even–” together, but he didn’t say that part. He didn’t want Jake to feel an obligation. Jake had driven across the country for him, gotten shot at for him, done so fucking much, and Micha couldn’t ask him to do this, even if his whole being screamed that wherever he was going to go, Jake needed to come with him.
Jake’s hands moved to cup his face. “Oh, but we will be.” His kiss was as gentle as it was filthy this time, and Micha wanted to keep at it, but Jake was the first to pull away. “Because if I have to move to fucking Sweden, the least you can do is be mine.”
“Be yours?” Micha repeated, although his heart swelled. “Is that all?”
Jake grinned. “No, that’s not fucking all. I want to be annoyingly in love with you, all the time, and I want you to be nice to me everywhere but in the bedroom and I know gay marriage is so legal in Sweden you practically have to do it at the border, otherwise they won’t let you in.”
“Jesus, Jake.” Micha dropped his hand to run over Jake’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking lunatic. I’m so stupidly in love with you.”
“Good,” Jake said, his eyes glinting. “Because I don’t think I’m going to get any less crazy anytime soon.”
“Fuck,” Micha said, pushing Jake back into his seat. “Call your sister, let her know about the change of plans. And stop smirking like that. We’re not getting married.”
“Yet,” Jake said, and took his phone out. “I look really good in white, you know?”
“I’m sure you do,” Micha agreed, exhaling as he pulled the car back onto the road.
To think of all the things Jake had pulled him into, and all the things Jake had pulled him out of.
He started laughing, and found it impossible to stop.
Epilogue
Jake hated Sweden. It was far too clean, far too polite, far too safe and boring. Everyone was obsessed with things like equality, feminism and alternative energy conservation methods for houses and buildings during the winter. It was only dirty and miserable during winter, and even then Swedes found ways to be happy about Christmas or winter sports. It was a country full of normalized vegan food at supermarkets; completely unnatural. Nobody ever made small talk and when he tried to, he got to hear vast swaths of people’s medical histories and family drama. Everyone fucking loved songs; songs during drinking parties, songs during holidays, songs at great public singing events, songs that win Eurovision six times.
Sweden was exhausting, even more so because it was actually really good to immigrants. The immigration department of the government had helped him land a perfectly reasonable office job doing some kind of software sales where he could speak English with some clients and Swedish with others. His apartment just outside of Stockholm city limits was comfortable and close enough to Anders’ and Lucy’s house so that if they were working late, Jake could pick up Linnea from daycare and go to the nearby park, where there was rarely anything happening.
“I really miss the random shootings,” Jake said wistfully over coffee one Sunday afternoon and Lucy, the utter bore that she was, looked at him like he was insane.
She didn’t get it, having moved to Sweden so early in her adulthood. She was all about the Nordic way of life, she liked shitty salty licorice and going cross-country skiing up north. Jake had stayed behind, to their true home country, the grimy place where some fuck up had knocked their sweet mother up and left her, the true, blue American way. What would have happened if she’d met someone in Sweden? Jake was worried about the gene pool being too small. Maybe they would have been born with their eyes permanently crossed or something.
There was only one major benefit to living in Sweden. Lazy mornings like this one, in bed with his hunky Slavic boyfriend, all warm muscle around Jake’s body.
“Come on,” Micha told him. “We need to get up.”
“Let me suck your cock.” Jake turned around in Micha’s arms, his hand reaching down to stroke Micha’s cock to full length. It felt so perfect in his hand, thickening as he went. He listened to Micha groan softly as Jake’s hand tightened around his cock.
Micha’s eyes were still closed, his expression relaxed against the pillow. They’d had a date last night, Sasha staying at Lucy’s overnight. It had been a nice date, Micha insisting that Jake try to speak more Swedish to him throughout, but Jake had wanted to spend most of the evening fucking instead of talking. They’d had proper dates in Sweden before, dinners and movies and even a night at a gay club because Sweden was disgustingly accepting about that sort of thing. Maybe eventually Jake would be down for sharing Micha with others, but that night his fingers had curled into fists on instincts whenever another guy as much as looked at Micha.
Yet Jake had to remain a nice, law-abiding citizen. Any trouble with the law might make the authorities do some digging on his past, and that’s not something he was really after. Even though Swedish prisons were cushier than most American hotels, Jake did not want that, so he stayed good. No more red lights. He didn’t even own a car here, and Lucy had bought him a bicycle for his commutes for his last birthday. If there was ever a sign she truly hated her brother, this was it.
“No, come on,” Micha grunted, “we promised Lucy we’d go to that thing at your aunt’s house.”
Fucking hell. Lucy was all about reconnecting with family back home and had discovered their mother’s old cousin, aunt Sigrid, on the outskirts of Stockholm. She was a spry childless woman in her fifties, richer than she had any right to be, and adored the kids when Lucy had brought Linnea and Sasha around. Jake opposed the idea of getting to know distant family members on principle, and had not-too-jokingly proposed to Lucy that they just con the old lady and run away with the money.
“He’s joking,” Anders had said when Lucy had looked ready to fight Jake.
“Of course I’m joking,” Jake’d said with a smile. He was being so good.
So now instead of getting split open by his boyfriend’s huge dick, he was getting dressed to pick up the kids and take them to aunt Sigrid’s house. At least the journey wouldn’t be made by public transport like the lower classes, and they could all pile into Anders’ America-sized SUV.
“My therapist in prison told me I couldn’t probably maintain a healthy relationship, you know?” Jake looked down on the ground as they walked to the train station, catching a train to Lucy’s house, which was naturally located in an absurdly beautiful wealthy neighborhood. “Because of my sociopathy.”
Micha rubbed a hand over his jawline. “I’ve met some sociopaths. A couple of them were in my family. You don’t remind me much of them, to be honest.”
“I’m just saying, if shit goes down, it’ll probably be my fault.” Jake allowed the prospect to knot in his stomach. Something about all of this–too comfortable, too convenient–made his skin itch.
“Maybe you were just misdiagnosed,” Micha said lightly. “It happens.”
“And if he’s right, I’ll probably fuck up somehow.” He stared at his shoes.
“Jake,” Micha said, with that tone of voice that was just too–patient, too nice, too careful around the edges of Jake’s mess. “How would you fuck this up? We’ve been together for a year.”
“I’ll cheat on you. Or steal from you. Steal from Anders, make him not trust me finally. I don’t know.”
“I haven’t got anything to steal. Anders would forgive you.”
“I know, he’s the worst.” But Jake had to smile as he said it. “What’s your favorite part of dating a traumatized excon? The part where I still cry during sex sometimes?”
“All of it,” Micha replied. “All of it is my favorite part. But my least favorite part is the way you refuse to teach me Swedish.”
“I’m not a great teacher.” Jake brushed him off, but the truth was, he preferred speaking English with Micha, the way they always had. He already spoke Swedish with just about everyone else. Even little Sasha had picked up the basics from daycare and Linnea’s patient teaching.
Micha had a job, too, although it wasn’t one he particularly enjoyed, at a logistics center for a chain of supermarkets. It didn’t require much skill in the local language, but he was determined to learn more.
“Also I can’t fuck in Swedish, it turns me off,” Jake added, which made Micha laugh.
The afternoon at Sigrid’s was fine enough. She provided the adults not driving with strawberry wine, the kids with rhubarb juice and biscuits. Linnea and Sasha got to run around in her vast garden. It was like something straight out of an Astrid Lindgren novel, the really nice ones, not the ones where the kid loses his brother and then dies himself. Sigrid was the picture of sunshine in a light blue dress and her hair the same yellowy blond as their mother’s had been.
She finished a chat with Micha in his rudimentary Swedish and turned to Jake. “Jakob, how did you manage to grab such a handsome man, huh?”
She was teasing him, but he answered in earnest.
“I just lied a lot, auntie. As much as I had to to get him.”