Uniforms

Uniforms by AKM Miles

Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2007 by AKM Miles First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Chapter One Despite the long and truly horrible day Jackson had endured, he took off his uniform and put it carefully aside for cleaning. He knew he had one ready for tomorrow, clean and pressed. There was a lot to the uniform and it all had to be perfectly put together to pass inspection. There was even more involved in the mindset the uniform invoked. Strength, honor, pride, dedication, respect were all part of wearing the uniform he had worked so hard to earn. Jackson looked good in that uniform. He'd been told so more than once, and by both women and men. He was tall and strong. He worked out in the exercise room at the precinct, and it showed in his strong arms and thighs. Jackson didn't want to be bulky, like a body-builder, but he was muscled and buff, with killer abs. His dark brown hair was cropped close to his head, for ease, and because he didn't care about style. Jackson's eyes were deep-set and such a dark brown they were almost black. People told him he had great skin color, obviously due to one or both of his parents. He always looked like he had a tan, without having to go through what he thought of as the idiocy of tanning, like some of his vainer colleagues. Jackson didn't care one way or the other about his looks. He just wanted to stay healthy and do his job. Jackson had been on both sides of the law. He'd grown up as part of a gang on the lower east side, his uniform colors and kerchiefs and tattoos. He'd been taken in several times 3

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as part of a group by the cops, but he wasn't the type to go off and get into trouble alone, thank heaven. He'd left the foster care system he'd been in since infancy and had been sucked into the "family" that waited for him on the streets, a perfect candidate for their hype. He had no one, never had, in fact. His head had been filled with thoughts of finally belonging somewhere and being part of something good. It was the worst three years of his life. He was still amazed that he'd managed to get through it without having to kill anyone. He'd seen horrible things happen in the name of "family". Now he truly felt he was part of a family of brothers that fought on the other side of the law; the right side. His life had changed during a burglary gone wrong. The gang member who'd been watching for the cops had panicked when he'd heard sirens and run out of the store. He'd grabbed Jackson's arm and yanked him out of the car, taking Jackson's place at the wheel. Jackson had hit the pavement just right, knocked out cold. The police found the owner of the store injured inside and Jackson injured outside. They went to the hospital together. The officer had tried to get the owner to say that Jackson had been part of the bungled burglary, but he hadn't seen him outside so he wouldn't turn him in. The officer, Cecil Bartles, kept trying to get Jackson to talk about his gang, but he knew better than to do that. Officer Bartles wouldn't give up on him. He'd kept at Jackson and tried to help him see that there was no future for him where he was. He'd hit him hard with words that made 4

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an impression. Jackson wanted out, but they both knew that didn't happen easily. Jackson never knew how he did it, but Bartles got the word out that he'd been arrested in conjunction with the burglary, and he somehow arranged for him to stay in a safe house for a while. Then, to Jackson's amazement, he was asked if he wanted to stay with the older widower. He'd jumped at the chance to get out of the slum he was in. He'd watched Cecil with his cronies from the department. It took time for the others to accept him and not think he was going to rip the old guy off or hurt him in some way. He had a lot to prove. He'd worked for Cecil, cooked with him, and learned from him. Jackson had soon known that he wanted to be just like the man who'd saved his life, literally. It made him proud that Cecil had seen him graduate and become an officer, accepted by Cecil's friends. Cecil had caught a bullet last year and died on the way to the hospital. Jackson hadn't known that Cecil had left him everything. Jackson now had a small house, some savings, and an old Taurus, probably the first one off the line. He loved it as much as Cecil had. He lived alone in the little house and spent most of his off time that way. He didn't have close friends. Many of the men on the force were married and the single ones were straight, as far as he knew. He didn't have a lot in common with them. He was heading to the shower after stripping off his uniform when he heard a noise at the back of the house. He didn't hesitate in grabbing his gun and heading back that way. He stood, in only his white briefs, and listened for more 5

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sounds. There. Right by the door. Scratching, and then a moan. What in the world? He couldn't see what was out there, so he waited a few minutes more. Then he thought he heard someone whisper, "Help." He quietly opened the door and gasped as a body fell onto his legs. A man had been kneeling by the door, leaning against it. He lay still, bleeding from a head wound. Jackson quickly looked around, and seeing nothing suspicious, pulled the man farther inside and then closed and locked the door. He turned on the light and saw the guy's eyes flutter at the sudden brightness. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides your head?" The man didn't answer and Jackson tried another question. "Why are you at my door?" "Saw ... saw your uniform. Figured I'd be safe here. I need help." "That's pretty obvious. What happened? Who are you?" "New neighbor. Mugged. Saw you come in the last few days from work. Was gonna come meet you. Not a good first impression, huh?" "I still don't know who you are or what happened. You need medical help." Jackson had been checking the guy out. He wasn't armed and seemed to pose no threat. He put his gun on top of the fridge and bent to try to help the guy up. He caught the wince and eased him back to the floor. "Tell me where else you're hurt. I'll call an ambulance, get a statement..."

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"No, I don't think I need all that. Can you help me up? Just take the other arm. He caught me with a knife, and you happened to grab the same spot." "Shit, man, you should've said something. I'm calling 911." "No, please. Just help me up. I don't want to go to the hospital. Hate 'em. Will you just look at it and see if it needs stitches or something? It's not so bad." Jackson helped him up, wondering what he was getting himself into. This situation was bizarre. He wondered if he should call it in to the station, but something about this guy was stirring old memories. Jackson pulled out a chair and eased him into it, then turned his face up to the light. Wait a minute; he recognized this man. Sam, that was his name, yeah. "No way. What in the hell is going on here? What are you doing here? Why'd you lie? Neighbor, hell! How'd you find me?" Jackson was furious that he'd been played. He wondered if there were others just waiting for him. He looked anxiously at the door. "Please, Jackson, don't lose it. Don't hurt me. It's not what you think, I swear. Hear me out, okay?" There was desperation in Sam's eyes and pleading in his voice. "Talk, Sam. What's a member of the Rakes doing in my kitchen, bleeding?" God, he'd thought that life was over and done. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to bring trouble on you, I swear it." "I repeat: talk." Jackson knew anything to do with the Rakes was trouble. 7

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"You're a legend, man, honest. You got out. You made it. I was just starting when you got hurt and arrested. I hated it. Hated it. My brother got me in and then it was just too hard to get away." He was shaking and he talked rapidly, as if it really mattered to him that Jackson understood. "I tried twice and got beat up both times. Then they didn't trust me. They watched me all the time, and I was scared they'd kill me. I wanted out. I wanted to be like you." "How'd you know about me? Here, let me see your arm. Take off that shirt." Jackson helped him remove the shirt and gasped when he saw the bruises that covered Sam's whole chest and shoulders. Yeah, he'd gone through a gauntlet all right. Blows from clubs had made those marks all up and down both sides. He'd bet Sam's back looked the same way. He'd seen it happen more than once, and he shuddered, sickened by the cruelty of it. "Damn, Sam. Are you all right?" Jackson raised Sam's arm to look at the knife wound. It wasn't bad, just a graze that would be fine with cleaning and a bandage. He looked at the still seeping cut on Sam's head by his right ear and then he saw the mess on his earlobe. Someone had ripped out an earring. He knew about that, too. "Sit still, let me get the kit. Don't try anything, you hear?" "I won't, Jackson, I promise. Uh, you might want to put on some clothes." Sam blushed as he said it and Jackson looked down to see that Sam was sporting quite a large erection. Hmm. Interesting. He wondered if it was adrenaline and fear that had put it there, or his state of undress that had Sam so hard. He wasn't about to ask, though. 8

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Jackson hurried to his room, got dressed in jeans and a workout shirt, and grabbed the kit from the bathroom. He returned to find Sam reaching down and thumping his dick with his hand. Jackson smiled, knowing that trick, trying to get the sudden pain to make a hard-on go down. He wasn't embarrassed, but he figured Sam would be if he knew he'd been seen. He paused a second, then cleared his throat before coming back into the kitchen. Well, his life sure was getting interesting all of a sudden. "Let's see if we can get you cleaned up, and then you can tell me what happened tonight. I can figure out what happened recently." He winced as he thought of all Sam had been through. "And I'm going to want the truth, so don't use the time to make up something." He cleaned and bandaged Sam's arm and head and tried to clean the injured earlobe, but didn't know what to do about the tear in it. He did the best he could and then asked Sam if he'd like some water or something to eat. Sam looked pretty done in. Actually, he looked pretty damn good, but Jackson wouldn't let his mind go there. Sam still looked thin and wiry like Jackson remembered him from before. His hair was long, but looked clean and shiny, not like most of the gang kept theirs. It was mostly brown with red showing in streaks when the light hit it. His eyes, though, they were ... pretty. They were a dark blue, not the Paul Newman-blue people talked about, but a deeper blue. Jackson couldn't believe he was taking such a thorough inventory of Sam's features. Oh, well, while he was at it, the 9

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man had some amazing lips, really full, soft-looking lips. It wasn't just Jackson's mind that was taking an interest in Sam's looks. Sam was sexy, despite being injured and worn out. He'd better get back to the business at hand or he'd have to do some thumping of his own. "If you know about me, why don't the others? And if they do, why haven't they come after me?" None of this made sense to Jackson. "Like I said, you're kind of a legend. You're sort of untouchable as far as the gang goes. Soon after you left, word went out that you were not to be touched, ever. Somebody who liked you had connections, I guess." He looked up at Jackson with awe. "I saw you on TV once when they were showing some accident. You were in the background, just for a second, but I've always ... I mean ... I recognized you right off. I didn't say anything to anyone then. I worked out a way to find out where you worked and went there, and..." He hesitated and then said, "Shit, I guess you could say I stalked you." Jackson swore. Just what he needed. "What do you mean, Sam?" "I watched you get off work and followed you home to see where you lived. I've kind of been watching you for a little while. Not with any harm in mind, I swear it. I think you're cool. You made a life and you're a good cop and I want to be like you." Sam paused when Jackson gave him an incredulous look. "I mean, I want out. I want to be somebody good, do things for people. I was going to come to you, in secret, and 10

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ask you to help me get out of the gang, however you managed it." Sam looked so unhappy, so scared. "I don't know how it was, but I need to get away from this life. I don't fit there, I never did." Jackson just looked at Sam. What in the world was he going to do? Jackson felt like he was looking at himself a few years ago. If it hadn't been for Cecil he would probably be dead by now. If somebody didn't help Sam, he'd probably be dead before long, too. Knowing what he did, could he send him away? "What can I do? I don't know how to help you," he said, knowing he sounded frustrated. He wanted to help Sam, but he didn't have Cecil's connections. "How did you get out? Somebody had to help you. Who was it?" Sam looked at him, hope in his eyes. "An older officer named Cecil Bartles saved me, in more ways than one. He was the one with connections. I don't know what they were. I—let me think about this. Maybe some of his friends would know who to ask, or how we could do this." He thought about it for a few minutes as Sam waited in silence. "Do you think I could stay here tonight?" Sam said eventually. "I really don't have anywhere to go. If they find me again, they'll kill me for sure. I won't bother you. I'll do anything you say." There was hope and desperation in Sam's eyes as he looked at Jackson. "I've admired you a long time. Even when you were with them I knew you were different. There were things you would never do and it got you in trouble, but you were strong." 11

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Jackson stared at Sam and tried to remember what he'd been like. On the edge of the action, always kind of standing back, not taking part in things. Hmmph. Kind of like himself. "You never would do anything with the girls," Sam went on. "A lot of guys made fun of you and called you queer, but you still wouldn't, you know, take them, or treat them ugly like the others did. I always wondered..." "What? If I was queer, or just chicken?" Jackson stood and walked around the table, thinking about how he was going to deal with this line of questions. He came back to stand over Sam, waiting for his answer. "Yeah, if you were gay. I know you weren't chicken. I think you were just ... I know it doesn't sound right, but you seemed like you had manners. You were nice to them. I wanted to know if you were, you know, gay 'cause ... well..." He trailed off, dropped his gaze, and then ducked his head. "'Cause you are?" Jackson finished for him. Sam nodded without looking back up. Jackson could see a blush rising from his neck to cover his face. Sam turned and put his head in his arms on the table. "Hey, it's okay; your secret's safe with me. I'm not likely to go telling anybody. Yeah, I'm gay, too. But you don't have to worry about me jumping you." "What if ... if—what if I want...?" Sam stammered. "Okay, now, that one I can't finish for you. I'm lost. What are you saying?" Sam didn't say anything. He popped up from the chair and had his arms around Jackson's neck before he could move or say anything. Sam covered Jackson's mouth with his and 12

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kissed him, somewhat awkwardly, but strongly. Jackson was stunned at first, then for just a few seconds he wished he could just kiss him back like he ached to do. He pulled away from Sam's lips, wet, full, and tempting though they were. He reached up and took Sam's arms away and eased him back into the chair. "I'm sorry," Sam said. "You probably think I am a stalker now. I attacked you and you could probably arrest me for trying that with you. Please, don't be mad." "Shh. Relax. I'm not going to arrest you. I'm not mad. I'm just not so sure it's not against some kind of rules for me to..." "You mean it's not 'cause you don't like me or don't want me?" Sam's eyes lit up. He looked like a puppy, hoping for some sign of affection from his master. "Sam, you're very, uh, hot. It's not that I don't want you. I just don't want to get in trouble or make you think that..." "Hey. It's okay. I won't bother you anymore. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You probably have somebody anyway. Will you still help me? I promise I won't do anything to upset you again." "Sam, I'm not upset. I don't have anybody. The only reason I'm uncomfortable is because I'd love to kiss you back, and more, but I'm not sure what I can do to help you and I don't want to start something and can we just table that until I find out if I can help you at all?" He ran it all together 'cause he couldn't get one clear thought in his head. He had to quit thinking about that kiss. 13

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"Oh, yes. I can go a long way just knowing you want to kiss me. About tonight?" "Yes, you can have the room that used to be mine. I've taken over Cecil's old room. I'm going to call some of his friends and set up a meeting and see if I can arrange something like what Cecil did for me. Maybe they know more about how it went down. I still don't know how you got here and what happened tonight." Jackson listened as a much happier Sam told him about fighting with the gang, including his brother, one more time about not wanting to do things they wanted him to do. He'd run but he swore he hadn't led them to Jackson's house. He'd lost them first and then headed over. Jackson believed him. He figured if Sam had stayed alive this long in the gang, he knew how to get around. He got some clothes for Sam, showed him where the shower and his room were, and told him he'd be in the living room trying to find out what he could do for him. Jackson got out Cecil's old address book and started making calls. Two of Cecil's friends, who'd retired from the force, said they would meet him at the house tomorrow. They seemed excited to be asked to help, and both said, yes, they knew what strings Cecil had pulled to get him safely away from the Rakes back then. Jackson hoped he could do the same kind of thing for Sam. He hated to think of anyone else wanting out like he had and not being able to get away. He tried not to let himself think of Sam in the shower, using his soap, his towels, hell, even his clothes. He liked what he saw and he really liked the man's mouth. He must be 14

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oh, about four years younger than Jackson. Made him about twenty, twenty-one. Old enough to know what he wanted. Jackson couldn't believe Sam wanted him. Well, the hard-on and the kiss sort of indicated that he did, indeed, want him. The problem was he wanted back. Sam wasn't a thug. He wanted a life. You had to admire that in someone who came from where they both did. It wasn't the hero worship thing that Sam had going on that appealed; Jackson didn't need anything like that. But a friend, now that he could use. He was going to help Sam, and maybe ... just maybe there would be a chance for more, later on. He smiled thinking about it.

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Chapter Two Sam had been staying—hiding out—at Jackson's house for over a week now. Things were in limbo as they waited to see if the talk they'd had with Cecil's old buddies would help or not. Sam was great to have around. He cooked, he cleaned, he was good to talk to and hang around with. They liked the same things on TV, so it was kind of like having a roommate. There was just that tension to contend with. Two kinds of tension, in fact. There was the worry about whether whatever Ed and Frank were going to try to pull off would work. They wouldn't tell Jackson what it was, but they felt sure they could manage the same kind of deal that Cecil had worked for him. He was coming to like having Sam around and hoped they could get it figured out so he was safe. Jackson continued to go in to work every day as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on at home. The other tension came from knowing that Sam wanted him. It didn't help that he felt the same way. It had been a very long time since he'd had any kind of sex life and the looks he got from Sam were beginning to garner a response. He went to bed hard nearly every night. He liked Sam, and he thought he was hot; he wanted another taste, for sure, and more. But he was hesitant to start something that might not have a future. He was just glad they hadn't heard anything from the Rakes as it was. He came in one Saturday, tired after working a shift for a buddy, and smiled when he smelled something delicious. 16

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"Damn. Something smells good. What is that?" he asked, as he closed and then locked the kitchen door. Sam turned from the stove and smiled at him, his eyes lighting up. God, looks like that were not going to get him to stop wanting the man anytime soon. "I found an old book of recipes in a drawer and thought I'd try some. This is one we had all the ingredients for so I went ahead. I hope you don't mind." "No, it's great. Let me see ... Yeah, I remember Cecil making this. He called it Lazy Lasagna." Jackson liked the idea of Sam cooking one of Cecil's recipes. "Thanks a lot. I'm going to go shower and change and be right back. Enough time?" Sam looked like he wanted to join him. He looked Jackson up and down once, quickly, almost like he couldn't help himself, and then said, "Sure. Go ahead. I'll have it on the table when you're done." "You don't have to do all this. I don't expect you to wait on me like this, all the cooking and cleaning and stuff. It's not required, you know?" Jackson really did feel bad about all Sam did for him, especially since he wasn't giving anything in return. Well, a safe place to stay and hope for the future, but he knew Sam wanted more from him. He felt like he was taking advantage of Sam's feelings for him. "We've gone over this. I don't feel like I have to; it's just I need to do something. I like cooking, always have. Maybe I could get a job in a restaurant for a while. Then, if you think I could, if I made it, I'd like to be a cop, same as you." Those eyes were so expressive, so hot. 17

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"I'm sure you could do either of those. You've got a quick mind, a good work ethic, and no disturbing tattoos from the gang; that might have been a problem—what?" "Nothing. I, uh, that's good. Go on and shower and I'll dish this up." Sam was hiding something. He was blushing and stammering. Embarrassed? Worried? Hmm, what had he said? Oh, the tattoos. Did Sam have some that might be an issue? Well, he hadn't seen any, and as long as no one saw them, they shouldn't be a problem. After Jackson showered and returned in comfortable sweats and T-shirt, they sat down to supper. "Tell me what you'd really like to do best, if you could choose," Jackson asked between mouthfuls. "Cooking or being a cop?" "Truth?" Sam asked. "Of course, truth. Don't think you have to say you want to be a cop because of me. I think you'd really do well going to culinary school or something to do with the food industry." It was obvious Sam loved cooking. "There's one here that's supposed to be good. You already said you gotten good grades and graduated, unlike many of the Rakes. You want my opinion?" "You know I do, Jackson. I respect you more than anyone I know." There was that look again. Damn, it got to him more and more. "That still blows me away. It's kind of cool, though. But don't take it too far. I'm not all that. I got a lucky break. Now you have a lucky break. I expect to hear from Ed and Frank 18

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soon and we'll see about getting you set up. Back to my opinion ... you listening?" "Yes, please. Tell me." Sam was sitting as still as could be and waiting for Jackson to speak, no doubt expecting pearls of wisdom. "Don't fuck this up." Sam's mouth dropped. Obviously not what he'd been expecting. Jackson went on as if Sam didn't look like a goldfish in a bowl. "Not many people who come from where we do get a chance to make good. I was never able to do enough for Cecil, not that he wanted me to do anything, other than make something out of my life. I like you. I want to help you. When we see if they can get you clear of the gang like Cecil did for me, we'll plan your future. But it's up to you." Jackson wanted Sam to follow his own dreams, not duplicate Jackson's, due to some misguided hero worship thing he had going on. "Don't go into law enforcement because you have me on some damn pedestal. That's crap. Think seriously about what you want to do with the rest of your life. This is your chance. Choose what will make you happy and work for it." He made sure Sam was listening to him as he continued. "Otherwise, you'll end up working the rest of your life just to make a living. There's a difference in that and getting paid to do something you love. You understand?" "Yeah. I do. I'll think hard. You're probably right; I just wanted to be like you because I lo ... think you're the bomb." Sam paused, as if he'd said something he shouldn't. "I'll think 19

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about it and I won't blow this chance. It means the world to me that it's you giving me the chance to make good." Jackson could tell that Sam still had a bit of that hero worship going on, despite his repeated attempts to squash it. He knew that Sam wanted to make him proud. "I promise I will. Your faith in me won't be wasted. Uh, how could I find out about the cooking school thing, and how much it is, and how to go about getting in, and all that?" "Well, let's go hit the computer and check it out. I'll go by and get anything you need, but we can see what they offer. You pretty much know what you'd really like, don't you?" He could see excitement in Sam's eyes and animation on his face as he thought about the possibilities before him. Jackson felt like he was passing on a wonderful tradition, giving Sam a chance at a better life. They headed for the den and Jackson's computer. They booted it up, and before long Jackson had them on the web site for the cooking school. He enjoyed watching Sam's face light up as they went from place to place on the site, looking at the buildings, the kitchen, the teachers, and even some of the foods and recipes. Jackson admitted to himself that he just enjoyed watching Sam, period. It got quiet and Jackson clued in. Sam was looking back at him, with what Jackson could only call intent. "If you don't want me to kiss you, you better speak up or get out of the way," Sam said, never taking his eyes from Jackson's mouth. Jackson gave up. He didn't move or speak. He waited. Sam made a sound in his throat and turned Jackson's chair so he could straddle him and sat right down 20

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on his lap. Next thing he knew, he had his arms full of Sam and his mouth was covered and opened to accept Sam's marauding tongue. Sam was good at this. His tongue swept through Jackson's mouth and Sam began to tease him, moving his tongue in and out, mimicking sex. Jackson was finding it hard to breathe. Actually, everything was hard. He snapped out of it and joined in, giving as good as he got. He rubbed his tongue against Sam's and shivered at the way it made him feel. He pulled back and then dove in again. He liked that; stopping, so he could just go back for more. He crushed his mouth to Sam's and then pulled away for a couple of seconds to just look at him, at his swollen red lips. Then he was back for more heat, more friction. He was hard as a rock and he could feel that Sam was, too. The fucking phone rang. "Sam ... Sam, uh, I gotta get it. Oh, damn, that feels good, but I gotta answer the phone. Here, let me up. Just a minute." He put his hands on Sam's waist and lifted him off. Sam stumbled, then righted himself. "Sorry." "Oh, no, don't be. I'll be back. Just let me ... Hello. Ed? Ed, is that you? What is it? Where are you? What? Sure, we can meet you. Yeah, I'll bring him. Hang on, we're coming right now." He hung up and turned to Sam, who looked really worried. "What happened? Was that about me?" Sam was almost wringing his hands. 21

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"They want to meet us at this café right off the interstate. They were coming back from the state pen. Now, that's interesting. They want me to come and to bring you. Very interesting." He started out of the room, but turned back. "Let me change into something more suitable. You're fine. You need to do anything before we leave?" "No, I'll clean the kitchen when we get back. I'll stay down in the car 'til we're out of town and, uh..." Sam looked unsure of himself now that they weren't caught up in the moment. Jackson walked over, took him by the back of the neck, and brought him in for a quick, hard kiss. "Don't worry. We'll get back to us later. If you're sure that's what you want?" Jackson wanted Sam to be sure. He was becoming surer all the time. "Oh. Yes. Sure. Very sure." Sam reached up and put his hand behind Jackson's head and returned the kiss in the same manner, matter-of-fact and sure. Okay. Later.

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Chapter Three Ed and Frank looked smug as they sat across from Jackson and Sam. Jackson figured this was far enough out of town that Sam was safe from the gang. He guessed that was why Ed had wanted them to meet there. Jackson let them talk and he and Sam discovered that Cecil had done the leader of the Rakes a favor years ago, two favors, in fact. He had worked it so that the guy's little sister was removed from a really bad situation and later, he'd helped when the guy's mother needed medical care and help. He hadn't done anything illegal. It'd just been Cecil, being Cecil. He'd been promised favors in return. One he'd collected on when he helped Jackson. The gang leader, now in prison, evidently still wielded a lot of power. The new deal had been arranged, and Sam was safe. No one from the gang would ever touch him or say his name again. He could go anywhere and do anything without fear of further harm. Since it was so late, Jackson, being Jackson, insisted on following Ed and Frank back to their place. He was worried, they were getting up in years and well, he owed them. Jackson looked over at Sam. It was obvious that he couldn't believe it. Sam had been scared, living in fear for so long that Jackson was sure he was having a hard time grasping it. Sam looked like he was being released from prison. He was trembling and it appeared as if he was afraid he was going cry. Under cover of the darkness in the front seat, Jackson reached out his hand and touched Sam's arm. He slid it down 23

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and Sam turned his hand. Jackson squeezed it and held it for a few seconds, sharing his strength and relief that Sam was safe. It was obviously what Sam needed. Jackson felt Sam squeeze back and then let Jackson's hand return to the wheel. Jackson could almost feel emotion coming off Sam; he seemed to vibrate with it. He knew Sam had to be feeling relief and was probably pushing him back up on that pedestal for helping him out. Jackson hoped that the hero worship thing might turn into something stronger, more real. He found himself crossing his fingers that the good vibes he was feeling would change and grow. Jackson stopped at Ed's apartment and they watched the two men walk up the path to the door. Did they ... was that ... well, would you look at that? Jackson could have sworn he saw them take each other's hand and kind of bump shoulders. He watched more closely, interested in the thought that the two old men might be partners in more ways than one. They went in and turned to wave at Jackson. He and Sam watched as lights came on. They saw the two men, in silhouette, embrace. Jackson heard Sam sigh. "Jackson, did you see...?" "Yeah, neat, huh? They're cards, all right. We need to have them over for a meal every once in a while. They're pretty cool. They came through for us, huh?" He smiled at Sam, happy and relieved. "What do you think? Want to go celebrate?" Lord knew Jackson would like to celebrate by getting back to what they'd been doing. 24

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"Or, hmm, I wonder how soon the word'll get out on the street that you're untouchable? I doubt if it's quite this soon. Maybe we better go celebrate at home." He looked over at Sam, teasing him. "Wonder what we could do? Ice cream? Got any cake? What would you like?" "I would like to take you to bed. Lick you all over. Suck your cock. Rim you. Make you totally fly. Take you up my ass. Suck up a mark on your hipbone, safely hidden away, but I'd know it was there." Sam took a breath, staring right into Jackson's eyes. "Kiss you about a thousand more times just tonight. That would be a good celebration." Jackson peeled out of the street and couldn't even speak for a few minutes. He pulled up in front of a drugstore. "Stay down. You want anything special, besides what I'm here for?" He wasn't even embarrassed that his voice shook a little as he asked. "Something chocolate. Milk chocolate, not dark." Sam slumped again, waiting. Jackson figured Sam knew what he was really here to purchase. He couldn't believe Sam had said all that. He shook his head in wonder, and not just a little bit of anticipation. When Jackson got back in the Taurus, he sat in silence for a minute. Then he looked over at Sam, his expression serious. "This is another turning point. You've hit a lot of them tonight. You're sure you want this with me? 'Cause I'm about to come in my jeans just thinking about what you said." He laughed at himself as he revealed, "I kept having to duck around the corner to avoid anyone seeing me with this 25

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painfully hard dick tenting my pants. You're sure?" Jackson surely to God hoped so. "Please," Sam said, his voice unsteady. "Start the car and drive. I want you; have wanted you for so long you wouldn't believe it. But before you get bent out of shape, it's not the hero shit that has me wanting to fuck you; it's just you." Sam looked over at Jackson and continued with his truths. "I'm so into you and the man you are. You make me shake with wanting you. Hurry." Jackson pressed on the accelerator and they were home very soon. They almost raced for the kitchen door in the back of the house and as soon as it was locked behind them, the bag hit the counter, and Jackson put Sam up against the door, taking his mouth. Oh, heaven was right here. He was so hot and so needy that he was afraid he'd cream his jeans right there with his tongue fucking Sam's mouth and his hands kneading his ass. "Hot. Hard. Help me. I want you," he managed to get out. Jackson heard Sam whimper into his mouth, and sucked on the tongue that he wanted to keep against his. He clamped down on it and held tight with his lips and rubbed against it with his tongue, sucking and licking until they both were in dire need of air. They broke apart at the same time, and Jackson cradled Sam's head to his shoulder. He shuddered and rested a second, catching his breath. God, how would he ever make love to this man? They were both breathing so hard already, he was afraid one of them was likely to pass out. 26

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"I've never wanted anybody like this. You make me shake, Sam. Come on, let's get naked and horizontal." Jackson pulled a willing Sam toward the bedroom. They made it down the hall to Jackson's room, stopping a couple of times to hit the wall and share hot, hard kisses. By the time they reached the doorway, Jackson's shirt was half unbuttoned, and Sam was taking his off over his head. Jackson paused and just looked. Oh. Sam was fuckin' sexy. He'd been hiding a fit body under those loose shirts and baggy pants that wouldn't stop. He was more buff now and had nicely defined muscles, nothing too big, but impressive. Jackson had seen him without his shirt the first night but had been paying more attention to the cut on his arm then. He put out his hand and trailed it over Sam's shoulders and over his chest. He could feel Sam's heart pounding against his palm. He bent and kissed him there, just a kiss of appreciation. He was truly a lucky man. He moved his hand down and started on the front of Sam's jeans. "Off. Now. I want to see you. Sam, you are so damned hot." Jackson tried to get Sam's pants undone and down. "Uh, Jackson?" There was true hesitation in Sam's voice. Something was up. Besides the obvious. "What, Sam? Second thoughts? You don't have to..." Oh, God help him, if Sam had changed his mind. "Oh, no. Just, well, I've gotta tell you something before you see me." Sam seemed embarrassed now. What in the world?

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"Sam, what is it? Come on, you can tell me. We're about to have sex, really good sex, and you don't want me to see you naked?" "It's not that. I want the sex. I just have to tell you. Uh, when I was sixteen, about a year after I'd been in the gang with Ronnie, I snuck off to the other side of town and I got ... I got a tattoo," he finished really fast. "Is that all? No problem, Sam." He couldn't believe Sam was upset over something so trivial. "Well, you might be, well, a little freaked out. Oh, hell, here," he said. Jackson watched as Sam reached to push his pants down himself. When Jackson didn't say anything, Sam must have realized he couldn't see because of the light behind him. Sam turned and Jackson couldn't hold back his shocked gasp. "Oh, my God. Sam? When you were sixteen?" Jackson put his fingers out to touch, then pulled them back, only to put them out again to trace the letters J-A-C-K-S-O-N tattooed in black on the right side of Sam's groin, where the thigh met the groin. God, that area was tender. His name, Jackson's name, was tattooed on Sam's groin, beside the hard, leaking cock that was curved up toward Sam's stomach. "I don't know what to say," Jackson said in awe. He couldn't believe that Sam had his name tattooed on him, there. "You're freaked, huh? You think I'm either a stalker freak or a sicko." Sam sounded like he was afraid it was all over now. Jackson watched as Sam moved to pull his pants back 28

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up and stopped him. He took Sam's hand and pulled him onto the bed. "Hold on, Sam, really. It's okay. Just tell me; explain it to me. I barely remember you from then. I'm sorry, but I don't see why you did this." It might take more than a minute to wrap his mind around this one. "No, Jackson, don't worry. I know you didn't know me then, except in passing. But I watched you and thought you were the coolest, sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I knew I was gay then, but you don't think I ever let on to anyone, do you? They'd have crucified me." Jackson nodded in agreement; he knew. "But I fell hard for you because you were all the things I wanted to be. Strong, separate, not doing things you didn't want to do, and finally getting the hell out." More than admiration filled Sam's voice with sincerity. "I was a fool, but to me you were hope, dreams, possibilities. I had to have something after you left." Jackson watched Sam smile a little, figuring he was remembering the time of pain and loneliness. He guessed he could understand that what Sam had done might help to lessen it a little. He'd had a secret, one that set him apart from the others. "I had this done and it hurt like hell. I had to make sure it didn't get infected and no one knew why I walked funny for days. But I can't tell you how many times I've touched it, smoothed my fingers over it." Sam looked like he was trying to think of the best way to explain it to Jackson. "It made me feel like you were still around. It was sort of my—oh, what's the word—lodestone, you know. I could touch it and it sort of 29

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kept me grounded. I know you think I'm a loser now and probably crazy to boot, but..." "Shh. Sam. It's okay. I can't believe I'm looking at my name right by your cock. It is a little different. But who am I to knock anyone for doing whatever he needed to get himself through. If that's what did it for you, I'm fine with it. Sixteen, huh? Wow." Now Jackson reached out and touched it again, smoothing his index finger over the letters. He smiled when Sam sucked his stomach in and jerked a little. Jackson had the strangest desire to put his tongue to it and taste it. He would, too. But first, they had to have the talk. "Based on what you said, I have to ask how much experience you have. We gotta be safe, ya know? You ever been tested? Sam ducked his head and blushed again. Jackson reached out and, with his finger under Sam's chin, he raised it 'til he could look into his eyes. "What? Tell me," he said, quietly, moving his hand now to touch Sam's cheek. He slid his fingers to the back of Sam's neck and squeezed a little. "Now you're really going to think I'm a loser..." "Why in the world would I think that? Nothing you have told me yet has made me think you're anything other than strong and brave and smart. Where's this low self-esteem coming from?" Jackson, of course, knew where it came from. Being very low in the pecking order in a gang as rough as the Rakes didn't exactly build strong character. Jackson was amazed at just how great Sam really was. He wanted Sam 30

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feeling better about himself and was puzzled about this new bout of self-consciousness. "You asked about experience?" Sam held up his hand in front of Jackson's face and turned it back and forth. "That's it? Your hand? You've never actually had sex with anyone?" "Yeah, I'm a virgin. Laugh if you want to. I get it. But how would I have gotten a chance to do anything and who with? Tell me that. I've wanted no one but you for almost six years." He blushed as he admitted it, like it was something to be ashamed of, bless his heart. "I guess I've been saving myself for you," he ended. "Oh, wow. Look at me. Sam, look at me, please." When Sam raised his head again Jackson smiled at him, leaned in, kissed him softly, and said, "Now you listen." Sam nodded and sighed, waiting to hear what Jackson had to say. "There are good things and bad things about this situation. And questions. For one, I get tested every six months. I can show you the papers if you want. It's been a couple of years since I've been with anyone." Sam nodded and blushed again, obviously feeling awkward that he was in the position of having to be taught things by Jackson. Jackson could tell Sam so wanted to be cool for him, not seem ignorant. "Second, I'm not amused that you're a virgin. I'm thrilled. Selfish of me, I admit, but I can't help it. It turns me on to think I'll be your first." Now Jackson turned a little red as he admitted, "I kind of like it that no one else has touched my 31

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name on your skin. I don't know what it says about me that I'm beginning to like knowing that it's there. "Third, if you've never been with anyone, where did that list you spouted off in the car come from? Sounded pretty knowledgeable to me. Sounded great, in fact." As a matter of fact, just thinking about some of it made him so hard he hurt. "So, do you feel a little better now, knowing I'm not a whole lot more experienced than you, knowing we can play all we want, and knowing that I want you so much I'm about to die here?" Jackson finished and smiled into Sam's wide eyes. "No dying necessary. I'm yours, as you've probably guessed by now. I don't see myself wanting anyone else, but I promise to always respect you and be safe. I saw a couple of things and read a little and I've had a long time to think about you and what I'd like to do with you." The eagerness of realizing his dreams were coming true was evident in Sam's voice. "I can't believe I'm going to get a chance to try them out with you. You know I'm going to last about a minute or so after you touch me the first time, right? But I promise I can get it back up ... for you." "Okay then. Let's get naked. I want to feel all of you against all of me with just skin. Then we'll play a little and take the edge off, get that first one over with, however you want it. I'd say you've waited long enough to get to choose how you lose your first load with someone else." "Jesus, Jackson, just touch me. That'll probably be all it takes. Kiss me and put your hands on me and I'm gonna be a goner. Look, just talking about it has me leaking." Sam gasped as Jackson put his finger to the end of his cock and 32

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took the bead of moisture and brought it to his lips. He put his tongue out and licked it and Sam moaned as his cock twitched and his balls tightened. In seconds they were both naked and on the bed. Jackson was first and he held out his arms to Sam who almost leaped into them. Jackson laughed and pulled him in. "Gotta love how shy you are and how I'm going to have to talk you into everything." "Shut up. Oh, God, you feel so good. Better than all my imagining. Mmm, yeah, do that. Jackson, mmm ... mouth, tongue ... mmmph..." Sam was rambling as Jackson lavished him with all the sensations he could give him. Then Jackson took his mouth, turned him onto his back, and moved his hand down to take his cock and started pumping it. Jackson swallowed Sam's scream as he shot within seconds, like he'd predicted. He kept on, pulse after pulse of come drenching his hand and pooling on Sam's stomach. "You are one sexy motherfucker, you know that, Sam?" Jackson said, as he smeared the semen over Sam's belly and then moved his finger and smoothed some over the tattoo. "Hmmph," Sam said, finally, smiling at Jackson. "It's not the first time that has been soaked in come." "Shit, you say stuff like that and I want to just eat you up." "Me first. I want to taste you, suck you. Can I?" "You don't have to ask. You can do anything you want to, short of kinky stuff like tying me up and hittin' on me." "Not into kinky. There are so many things I want, over and over, we could stay busy for years and not get bored. Come 33

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on, let me at that big thing. You are pretty big. I'm half thrilled and half scared at thinking about that going in me. I want it, though. But first..." He pushed Jackson to his back and then lay on the bed between Jackson's spread legs. Sam took Jackson's cock in his hand and then, after looking up adoringly, he put his mouth over it and went down as far as he could without gagging. He used his hand on the rest and began to move up and down, licking and sucking and loving on him. Jackson had a hard time not thrusting up into that hot sweet suction. Sam might not have experience, but he made up for it in enthusiasm and affection. He loved what he was doing and it was obvious. It wasn't long before Jackson was near orgasm. "Sam, honey, I'm gonna shoot, if you don't want..." Sam slapped the side of his hip as if to say "Shut up" or "As if" and proceeded to swallow every bit of come Jackson spurted down his throat. He licked him clean and then lay for a second with his face resting on Jackson's leg. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked up and smiled. "That was cool. I think I'll take the whole list and go right through it." "Oh, my God. Come up here, you. I want some kisses now. Jackson-flavored kisses." He didn't know how he felt about taking his taste out of Sam's mouth but he did know he wanted Sam's mouth. Jackson pulled Sam up level with him and maneuvered them so that they lay on their sides facing each other. Before he took his kiss, he reached up and smoothed his hand over Sam's face. It was very quiet all of a sudden, neither saying 34

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anything out loud. But Sam copied him and used the few minutes to reach for Jackson, who smiled for him. Jackson used his other hand to tug Sam over so he was partially on his chest, looking down at him. He put his hand behind Sam's neck and pulled him close, but again instead of taking his mouth, he moved his gently over Sam's face. He didn't know where the need for such tenderness came from, but he just wanted to let Sam know how he felt about him. "You are so special to me, Sam. So very special," he murmured against Sam's eyebrow. He pulled back a little and looked up at him. Sam smiled at him and nuzzled his face into Jackson's neck for a bit. But soon, other needs began to make themselves known again. Ah, the list. "Uh-oh. You left the sack in the kitchen. I'll get it. Don't move from right there, okay?" Jackson wondered where Sam thought he would go. Sam was an amusing sight as he sprinted to the kitchen and back, laughing and flopping as he hopped back on the bed. "I'm going to have to get a bigger, sturdier bed if you're going to keep jumping on it." "Might better, 'cause I'm gonna." Sam laughed and tore into the bag for the condoms and the new tube of lube. He handed the lube to Jackson and said, "Will you ... uh ... get me ready, or you want me to do it?" Jackson felt his face turn red as he thought about watching Sam get himself slicked up. "I'll do it, but sometime I'd like to see you do it. That'd be way sexy. Lie down here." Sam got on his stomach and turned his face to the side. Jackson first 35

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straddled him and reached up with both hands and rubbed and scratched and kneaded his way down Sam's shoulders and back 'til he came to his gorgeous butt. He'd not paid enough attention to it, but it seemed to be perfectly rounded, such sweet cheeks. He scooted back and leaned to put his mouth to them and mapped the whole area, paying special attention to the crease between them. He set the lube beside Sam's hip and spread his cheeks with both hands, putting his tongue to work. "Oh! Jackson ... oh, God. That's so sweet. Hot ... wet ... soft ... sexy as hell." Sam's body began to quiver and he raised his ass, needing more. "I never ... oh, I dreamed about doing this to you, and I will, I swear I will, but please don't stop. Oh, oh, my ... your tongue is in me..." Sam's voice rose an octave as he said the last two words and then he stopped talking and just whimpered and sighed and shook. Jackson felt like a million dollars. He loved getting that kind of response from Sam. Besides, he wanted him good and loose and ready when he took him ... soon. Finally, he drew back, put on a condom and then reached for the lube. He kept one finger moving around the tight little hole, keeping it sensitized and needy. He slicked up and put two fingers in place and began to push them in. He paused as Sam jerked and moaned. "You okay?" "Oh, God, yes." Sam seemed more than okay. He appeared to be fucking fantastic. "Keep on. It feels so damn good. I can't wait for you to be in me. Just the thought. Oh!" he yelled as Jackson moved his fingers to just the right spot 36

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and rubbed over his prostate gland. Sam began humping the bed and Jackson went back a few more times. Somebody was more than ready now. He pulled his fingers out and slathered his sheathed dick with lots of lube. He wanted this to be good for Sam. Lord, the man was tight. He pushed and had to reach down and spread him a little. He eased back out. "Hey, babe, up on your knees. Make this a little easier for you." Sam complied and in seconds Jackson was back to pushing inside him. Ah, yes. He took it slow and careful and he could hear the deep breaths Sam was taking. He sank in, finally, all the way, resting against Sam's round butt cheeks. He took hold of Sam's hips and thrust, making Sam grunt and push back against him. "Do it," Sam begged. Jackson set about making this first time memorable for Sam. He eased in and out a few times, staying careful until he felt that Sam was ready for more, harder. When Sam started to push back to meet his thrusts he took that for the sign it was and began to pound into him. He loved the sounds Sam made, moans and sighs, Jackson's name and pleas for more. "Oh, that's so good. Jackson, please, just a few, really hard, okay? I want to feel you tomorrow. Fuck me hard, I can take it." Jackson didn't hesitate. The man knew what he wanted. He was happy to step up. He rammed him hard a few times and sweat was beginning to make them both shine. He leaned over and lay across Sam's back and began to hunch up into 37

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him over and over. Sam cried out at this new position and pushed back to meet each of his movements. "Please," Sam gasped, "touch my dick." Jackson reached under Sam and took his cock in hand. He felt the drops of come on the end of it and used it as lubricant to ease his way in stroking him up and down. It didn't take long for Sam to shoot again, the muscles that were hugging Jackson's cock spasming right along with him, making Jackson fly, too. He shot hard, deep inside Sam's body. He pulled back up and took his hips to hold him for the last pulses of heat. He sighed deeply as he eased out of Sam's ass and he patted his cheeks as he slid down to the bed beside Sam. He took care of cleaning them both up and settled next to his new lover. Both lay for a few seconds, breathing hard and still jerking a little in continued aftershocks from the giant mass of sensations. Finally, he turned and encouraged Sam to come over to lie on him a little. "Okay?" he asked Sam nodded and Jackson could swear he felt ... was that a tear rolling down his cheek, or sweat? "Sam? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Jackson couldn't bear it. He'd thought Sam was right there with him. "Shh. I'm okay. I've just waited so long for that. I didn't wait my whole life to get fucked. I waited since I was sixteen to get fucked by you." He was clearly reveling in a dream come true. "I never figured it would happen. I'm just taking it all in, pardon the pun." He laughed a little at himself. "'S okay. Long as you're okay. Take all the time you need. That was great, by the way. You are so tight and so hot. I 38

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could do that with you forever." Actually, that sounded real good. "Next time I want you on your back. I want to look in your eyes as I push into you, as I ram you harder and harder. That was the best ever." "God help me if it gets better. Wait, though, I got one more thing to do." "What? Aren't you tired? Man, I'm ... uuughh. Shit, Sam, what are you doing? Oh, that is hot, burns, whoo, mmm, babydamnshitfuck." His language went south. Kind of like Sam's mouth had gone. He was lying between Jackson's legs again and had both hands holding his hips still while he sucked up a livid, dark mark right in the same spot that Sam wore Jackson's name. Now they were both marked with each other. But dang, that had hurt. Now it kind of tingled as Sam kissed and licked it, loving on him, making it all better. Sam scooched back up until he could reach Jackson's mouth and he set about thanking him in a most feral and primitive way. His tongue raked in and through Jackson's mouth until their breathing sped up again. At this rate they'd be drained and melted by morning. Seems they were both a little drained. They kept kissing and caressing and loving on each other until they went to sleep, both heads on the pillow, Jackson's arm under and around Sam. Sometime in the night, the little needles of pain from his arm woke Jackson and he maneuvered it from under Sam and sat up to move it around a little, getting the circulation back. He looked down at the sleeping man beside him and felt his heart thud at the sight. He put his fingers down and traced the mark Sam had made earlier. He smiled. 39

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He kind of liked wearing Sam's mark, his sign of possession. Sam seemed a little restless, reaching out for Jackson and frowning a little when he didn't feel him there. Sam was beautiful. He was loving and caring and smart and funny. Sometimes he was so grown up with his bravery, his plans, and his hard work. Other times, he was like a little puppy in his eagerness to play, his jumping into bed, and bouncing around with happiness. He couldn't resist Sam in either mode. Jackson knew he was falling for him. He smiled and lay back down, moving close to Sam who scooted even closer and settled back in. All was well again.

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Epilogue Four months later, there were two uniforms in the closet and, again, wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Jackson gingerly eased his uniform off and put on some sweats. He had a surprise for Sam. They were celebrating Sam's graduating from one section of the school to the other. Jackson planned on telling him, and showing him, just how much he had come to love him. He walked slowly into the kitchen to see Sam. He smiled as Sam's eyes lit up when he walked in. He still hadn't gotten used to such open devotion. It made him feel so ... loved. Sam put down what he was working on and came over and plastered himself against Jackson, who couldn't help the gasp as their torsos collided. "Jackson? Are you hurt, hon? Did something happen? Oh, my God, tell me." Oh, well, it wasn't how he planned on telling him, but he eased back from Sam and took his face in his hands and kissed him slowly and softly. He pulled back and said, "I love you. I'm so proud of you. I did something today to show you how much you mean to me." "Jackson, oh, baby, I love you. What...?" Sam's mouth dropped open as Jackson slid his sweats down and showed Sam what he'd done. Sam looked down and then back up and then back down. Swear to God, a tear rolled down his cheek. Sam went down to his knees and very gently kissed the area around the word on Jackson's groin. S-A-M was right 41

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there for him to kiss and caress. Jackson could tell he'd done just the right thing. He saw Sam's face filled with awe as he gazed at his name beside Jackson's cock. Jackson touched his hair and reached to knead Sam's shoulders as he stayed there, on his knees in front of him. While Sam was down there, he dropped a couple of kisses on Jackson's lengthening cock. Jackson finally reached and pulled him up. Sam stood and carefully pulled up Jackson's sweats and patted his behind. Jackson smiled as Sam was finally able to say what he was feeling. "I'm blown away. You are so good to me. I've never been so happy. I can't believe you did this. I love you so much. Here, sit down, easy now, I know exactly how you feel. I'll help you take care of that and then I'm gonna love you 'til you can't see straight." Jackson let himself be eased into a chair with care and affection. He soaked up the love and attention from Sam. He might not be as good with words, but it looked like his actions spoke volumes. "You are my love, my life. And now I'm yours. Jackson and Sam." Jackson smiled, and pushed back into the kiss that Sam pressed on his nape. Sam went back to finishing supper for them. Jackson wanted to get supper over with and head into the bedroom. He wanted to take Sam to bed and hold him forever. They were going to have such a life. They were both getting used to having replaced fear and loneliness with happiness and belonging. 42

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