Read Chiaroscuro for Free Online Page B

mouthpiece with his hand and hissed, "Quit it!"
    Jamie shook his head and sucked hard on Micah's nipple.
    "Mother." He was trying to sound patient. He was not doing it well. "I'm sleeping on a futon in his guest room. We went to the Boardwalk because I wanted to. And this way I'm lots closer to work and won't have to ride BART at all those weird hours--which I wouldn't have to do if you'd just let me buy a car--"
    Jamie slid down his body and started to make love to Micah's belly button. Micah exhaled with a tiny whimper. "I'm, I'm sunburned," Micah said into the phone. "Stayed out in the sun too long. Jamie's got aloe--he's English, he burns as easily as I do. It just hurts to move a little."
    Jamie chuckled and moved lower still, his tongue dabbling along Micah's lower belly and upper thighs.
    "Mom," Micah squeaked. "I really should go now it's late and it's been a long day and I love you and I'll call you later. Bye!" He slammed down the phone and tackled Jamie, kissing him hard. "I--was--talking--to--my--mother!"
    "I know," Jamie said, laughing, "But you're irresistible, mate. Can't keep my hands off of you."
    "Or your tongue," Micah said with a sniff, and then kissed him again, his body curling easily into Jamie's.
    There had been, of course, no trip to the Boardwalk. Jamie didn't need roller coasters to have the time of his life, and Micah had been shouting from a different kind of happiness.
    "Hey, Jamie?" Micah whispered.
    "Yes, Micah," he said patiently, breathing in the scent of Micah's neck.
    "What are we going to do tomorrow?"
    "I don't know about you but I've got work." He smiled.
    "Dopey." He scrubbed his hand through Jamie's hair. "I mean, should we go into work together? Will people suspect anything?"
    "I think people will suspect more if we act like anything's different. If we stop giving each other piggyback rides in the halls or you stop parking yourself in my office for hours or we stop eating lunch together."
    Micah nodded, his face serious. "Okay. You're right. I'd hate for people to think we stopped liking each other."
    "Particularly since the opposite is true." He smiled at Micah, holding him loosely by the waist.
    "Yeah," Micah whispered and laid his head on Jamie's shoulder. After a moment he said again, "Hey, Jamie."
    "Yes, Micah."
    "Do you think we're going to have jobs on Monday?"
    Jamie sighed and rubbed Micah's back to soothe him. "I don't know. Most layoffs happen on Friday."
    "So you do think we're going to get laid off."
    "I know the company's in trouble," he said seriously. "I know we've lost a lot of money--we need a hit and haven't had one for two years. I think they're going to pare things down a great deal. How many, how soon--we won't know until it happens."
    Micah nodded, serious too. "This is my first real job."
    "There'll be others. You're young yet."
    "Pfft. Don't remind me. Everybody loves reminding me."
    Jamie grinned, reached over and scrubbed his hand through Micah's dark messy hair. "Because you're our wee mascot, young Micah."
    "Hey!" Micah jerked away, frowning, and smoothed his hair down. "Not you, too."
    Jamie folded his hands on his chest and just looked at him, feeling remarkably peaceful for someone facing layoffs and the wrath of his lover's parents.
    His fingers twitched and he rolled out of bed. "Stay right there."
    "Why?" Micah said but didn't move until Jamie came back with his big sketchbook and some pencils. "Oh," he said in understanding. "You--okay."
    "It is okay, right?" He sat on the bed and opened the sketchbook to a blank page.
    "Sure," Micah said. He'd gone tense again, and Jamie leaned over and kissed him, holding his jaw.
    "Relax. I just want to draw you, beautiful. I won't show anyone," he added. "This is just for me."
    Micah nodded slowly and leaned back against the headboard, the sheets low on his body. "Okay."
    Jamie smiled and started drawing in rapid, dark strokes. Graphic design was a fine way to make a living, but drawing--drawing like this,