Clang

By: E. Davies

Prologue


He was about to run, wasn't he?

Chase reached for the door already, taking a step back before Jackson could even zip up again. His eyes were wide with anxiety, and Jackson thought – hoped – he knew what it was about.

There was so much depth to their friendship that they hadn't yet explored. Chase was terrified he'd just fucked it up.

“Wait,” Jackson interrupted Chase's escape, taking his hand. “May I please return the favor?”

Chase's hand was warm and soft, not roughened and callused by tools. He had an artist's hands. The touch stilled Chase, who stared at him for a second. “Uh...”

“I'd like to, if you're okay with it.” Jackson watched the nervousness flicker across Chase's face. He looked nothing like the brash young man who'd just pushed him up against the wall.

Was Chase this unused to reciprocation?

“Okay,” Chase whispered at last, and despite his nerves, there was a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

Jackson had to share his thought. “You're gorgeous.” His gaze wandered over soft cheeks and the kissable lips that had just pressed against his own.

God, he wanted to make Chase feel just as good. Maybe help Chase do a little less chasing and a little more... enjoying.

“Th-Thanks,” Chase laughed, looking bashful. “Glad I give such good head.”

It's not just that. Your self-esteem is all wrapped up in sex, isn't it? “Oh, you do,” Jackson assured him, not sure yet how to address his suspicion.

But it was true, too.

Jackson smiled, stepping closer to Chase again. He caressed his sides, then his thighs and ass. Chase ground into his leg, his breath catching. Jackson hauled Chase up into his grip, carrying Chase over to the workshop table.

“Oh, fuck!”

Jackson laughed and slid Chase onto the table. Once he swept the table off with his arm, he pushed him flat on his back. “You like your men big and strong, don't you?”

Chase breathed out, “Yeah.” He looked stunned now – spellbound. His cock was standing to attention under denim.

Jackson rubbed it firmly, watching Chase's head roll back as he moaned. “And good with their hands?” He crouched over Chase, leaning across the table and bracing himself over Chase's head.

They kissed hard. Chase grabbed Jackson's face, pulling him even closer. Chase shivered as each nerve in his body lit up with Jackson's wandering touch. They gasped breaths against each other's mouths. The rough, open-mouthed kisses left Chase squirming and moaning with need.

Warmth. Togetherness. A friendship growing into... much more.

Jackson's heart hurt with the desire to kiss every inch of Chase's body and learn this whole new side of him. One step at a time, though. The first step was convincing Chase that he deserved every ounce of attention Jackson wanted to give him.

“Oh, yes, please,” Chase moaned. His cock, still trapped in his jeans, ground against Jackson's thigh with every arch of his body.

This was his most immediate need, and Jackson couldn't wait to satisfy it.





Chapter 1


Jackson


The best sound in the world was a sizzle. To Jackson Riley, it meant hot metal gripped in his tongs and plunged into a barrel of water.

Jackson smiled. He lifted the rod and flipped his hand over. As he dipped the other end into the barrel, the last few inches of metal cooled. This was the last railing of the night since it was getting late. He worked from his suburban backyard workshop, which was covered in ordinances. He'd modified his anvil to deaden the sound, but his work day had to be over at 9 PM.

Now he had to decide what to do for supper.

He clamped one end, then twisted the railing around and hammered the other end. The twisted rods bent out and he shaped them with ease. The metal was quite cool by the time he finished flattening the smooth, flowing stems. He dunked the metal again, then set it down to finish tomorrow.

Now that he lived next to his two brothers and worked in his backyard, there were certain perks. For one, he didn't have to run back and forth to his workshop to get measurements for the custom work he was doing for his brothers.

Right now, he was working on custom wrought iron railings for his little brother, Cameron. Cam's house had a vaulted ceiling over the living room, and the old railing overlooking it was... ugly. Jackson was creating new railings with his signature twisting, flowing, graceful patterns.

After raking the coals out and sprinkling water on them, Jackson pulled up a chair at the workshop bench. He had to wait for them to finish cooling. His own projects were still in the sketching stages, and he worked on them whenever he had a few minutes, such as now.

He liked the idea of swirls and metal beads molded into the balusters. He'd done a few custom railings for homebuilders a few months ago with an onion effect, which he liked, too. He was trying to combine them into something not too showy that highlighted his skills. The sketchbook was full of ideas, none of which had worked perfectly yet.

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