Better Than People (Garnet Run 1)

“What are we gonna call her?”

“Your choice,” Jack said. “She’s yours.”

“She’s ours,” Simon said diplomatically. Then, “Actually that’s good, because given your naming habits you’d want to call her Jesus, or Santa.”

Jack secretly thought Santa was a great name for a dog, but he just smiled at Simon.

“Or, god, you’d want to call her Box.” Simon giggled, then frowned. “Wait. Is Box actually a really cute name? No, right? Why am I asking you.”

Jack listened to Simon list every word that could be associated with the nature of the puppy’s arrival, unbothered.

He didn’t care about names. He’d started calling Bernard “The Saint Bernard” because that’s what he was, but that was too long to say every time. Mayonnaise and Pickles had arrived within days of each other and in his mind he called them “The cat the weird color of mayonnaise and the cat that ate a pickle off my plate.” He’d found Dandelion, injured, in a patch of dandelions. Rat looked like a rat. Et cetera.

“Box,” Simon announced.

“Hmm?”

“Box. It’s actually really cute, right?”

“Um, yes?”

“Is your name Box?” Simon cooed to the puppy. She yipped. Simon looked pleased with himself.

They spent the next hour playing with Box, getting her settled, and making sure the other animals didn’t terrorize her. Jack had a crate that he’d used for each new dog upon arrival set up in his studio for her for the night. She really was an adorable puppy and she instantly declared her loyalty to Simon, jumping onto his lap and flopping over his knees. At one point she climbed into the bowl Charlie had given them and Jack snapped a picture and sent it to his brother with a note of thanks.

Sprawled on the couch, the puppy snoozing between them, they watched the fire and Jack gazed at the lit-up tree. When the ground thawed, he was going to plant it in the back of the house, a reminder of their first Christmas together.

“Jack? Can we go to bed now?”

They got Box settled and Jack encouraged Louis out of the bedroom, getting a glare for his trouble.

When the door closed and they were alone, Simon said, “Were you serious?”

“What?”

“About me moving in?”

Sometimes Jack felt what it must be like in Simon’s head with a pang of sadness.

“Of course. Did you think I was just being polite for the sake of the animals?” he teased.

Simon dropped his forehead to Jack’s chest, a move that meant he needed comfort. Jack wrapped him up tight and they swayed together.

“I can’t wait to live here with you,” he said softly into Simon’s hair. “Wake up with you every morning. Fall asleep with you every night.”

“Mmm,” Simon said with his face hidden. “Juschecking.”

They swayed a little longer, then got into bed, throwing clothes off from under the covers for warmth.

Usually when Simon was feeling a little unsure Jack loved nothing more than to touch him, tease him, bring him to the edge with hands and mouth and cock until he was begging, until he was taken out of himself and merged with Jack in every way possible. Then Jack would look into his eyes and give him that one touch that would shatter him, and hold him as he shook apart.

Tonight, though, all Jack wanted was to be here with Simon. To know they had infinite nights left to do with what they willed.

They came together slowly, kissing softly, hands roaming, just enjoying. They stroked each other as they kissed, hips grinding, until Simon clutched Jack’s hip and rolled onto his stomach.

He was all graceful spine and luscious ass and miles of soft skin and Jack dropped kisses on his shoulders as he fingered him open. He knew he would never get over the shock of lust he felt as he slid inside his man. The way Simon’s breath hitched and he shook his head against the mattress like he almost couldn’t believe the way he felt.

It was dark and quiet and Jack moved languorously, eyes half closed, enjoying every sound and clench and sigh. He urged Simon up onto his knees and found his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. He was so fucking beautiful. Jack kissed his neck as he thrust inside him, every movement as natural as breathing.

“I love the fuck out of you,” he gasped as Simon started moaning and pushing back against him. Simon sobbed out his name and came over his hand, muscles clenching around him. The feel of Simon’s tight ass was the end of Jack and he pressed Simon into the mattress and lost it inside him, every muscle clenching as the pleasure spun through him and he spilled.

Jack collapsed on top of Simon, groaning into his hair. They lay there, tangled together, until Simon jerked away.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t give you your Christmas present.”

Jack buried his face in Simon’s neck.