Free Christmas with Danny Fit by Amy Lane Page B

kissed him back. And it really was fucking awesome.

    IT WAS hard telling him goodbye that evening. In two days, they had managed to turn themselves into a little family, complete with kittens for babies.
    “I can get you tomorrow night,” Kit said as they were kissing at the front door, afraid to go outside. “I have to come home and work out and then go visit Ma, but then I can pick you up.”
    Jesse pouted. He did that sometimes—he’d done it that morning when Kit didn’t have oatmeal, and he’d done it at the pet store when Kit had wanted a boy and a girl kitten instead of two boys. It was not the best side of Jesse—and it charmed Kit completely.
    “Why can’t you come work out with me? The gym is a few blocks from my apartment. I can bring extra clothes—that’ll work fine!”
    Kit blushed and shook his head. “I, uhm, don’t think I want to work out in front of all those people, Jesse.”
    Jesse sighed and blew out a breath, but he didn’t press the Amy Lane

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    point. “Well, how about you follow me home from work, and I can come here and work out with you?”
    Oh Jesus. Jesse in the same room with Danny Fit? That would almost be like a threesome. It sounded dangerous—and vaguely icky. Fortunately, that didn’t solve the fact that Kit still needed to visit his mother, and Kit said so.
    Another sigh, and Kit felt like shit, even though it was the truth. Jesse shook his head. “I swear, it’s like you don’t want me to meet the guy, you know?”
    Kit shrugged and said, “Well, what Danny and I had together is very private,” with enough dignity to sound like he was kidding.
    But Jesse wasn’t stupid. His eyes got big, and he put his hand over his mouth like a little schoolgirl. “Ohmigod! He’s your jerk-off buddy!”
    Kit wondered if he could will himself to die of a heart attack on the spot. He knew his blood was certainly thundering in his ears enough.
    “I… uhm….”
    “He is!”
    “Well. Uhm….”
    Jesse shook his head and chortled some more. “Never mind, baby. You keep, uhm, working out. Anyone who waited for thirty years for the right person to come along gets to have imaginary sex with as many people as he wants!”
    Kit could do nothing but stand there with Jesse in his arms and blush. Jesse was Jesse, though—he could laugh like the kid he was, but he picked up on Kit’s discomfort after a moment.
    “It’s okay, Kit—I swear. Every boy has an imaginary stroke Amy Lane

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    buddy—no worries.”
    A part of Kit got indignant—he objected to hearing Danny referred to as merely a stroke buddy—but most of him got it. Jesse was being supportive. Jesse was being kind.
    Kit kissed him, because, dammit, that’s what you did when the person who had just made love to you for two days straight tried to tell you that your weirdness was not terminal. Jesse kissed him back and then hurried out to his car.
    The next day was surprisingly… normal. Kit and Jesse were good at their jobs, and they’d worked well as a team for a couple of months. Jesse didn’t shut Kit’s door during lunch and go down on him for a quickie, but he sat and talked to him instead. The companionship, Kit had realized long ago, was very much as important as the sex.
    Kit picked him up after visiting his mother that night and got a chance to see Jesse’s apartment. He was surprised to find that he did not envy it—Jesse was right. It was a low-rent apartment occupied by four men (two of them straight) who (in Jesse’s words) went home to change, fuck, or drink beer. The posters were tacked on the walls, and the beige carpet was appalling. Jesse’s room was roughly the size of Kit’s hallway, and while Jesse had literally covered the walls with sci-fi posters—many of them cadged from local movie theaters—it didn’t seem to have Jesse’s warmth. It certainly didn’t feel warm enough to keep Kit’s Jesse safe.
    Kit wondered at the lag