Interlude- First Noel Page 4

  When he strode across the stage to deliver his short speech, the crowd leaped to their feet, cheering raucously for five minutes straight. He tried to wave them down, but they kept going, and he ended up just standing there, letting their applause roll over him as his throat clenched and he blinked fast, trying to hold himself together.

  “Good evening, Washington, DC!” he cried into the microphone, once he could be heard. “And good evening, America!” More cheers and applause. He waved to the crowd, smiling.

  Near the end of his speech, his phone buzzed in his pocket, over and over again. The alarm he’d set for Ethan’s plane touching down. Swallowing, he plowed ahead with his closing remarks and then wrapped it all up. “Happy holidays, America. Let the season begin!” There was a comical button on the podium, and he pressed it with as much fanfare as he could. Someone watched him from a control booth nearby, and they flicked the massive switch controlling the lights on the National Tree, the state trees, and the lights on the south lawn. Everything lit up at once, a burst of glowing light refracting off the snow and the starlit sky. Cheers and applause rose, and the Marine Corps band dove into a swing rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

  Waving, Jack escaped the center stage, heading down Scott’s prescribed path and back to the protective clutches of the Secret Service at the base of the stage. Agents Daniels and Caldwell were waiting for him, as was the media. He had to say a few words, say something to the perky blonde reporter waiting for him. It was part of the evening.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket again. A text message. Ethan.

  Ethan was there, in DC, possibly already at the White House. It was time to go. He needed to be with Ethan.

  Jack pasted a smile on his face and hovered next to the blonde reporter. “Hi!” he said, beaming into the camera.

  “Mr. President, what a wonderful evening. How are you doing tonight?”

  “Great! This is a fantastic tradition, and it’s a real honor to be here and be a part of it all.” He clapped his lips shut as his cell phone buzzed again.

  “As we approach the holiday season, Mr. President, everyone is watching and waiting for the UN’s vote on your proposal to combat the Caliphate―how they’ve seized so much of the Middle East, and their terror attacks around the world. Can you comment on the situation?”

  “Terrorism is a global concern, and building a united global response to that has been one of my biggest goals. I have some more information on the scope of our alliance that I will be speaking about in the coming days.” He smiled into the camera and nodded, his silent cue that the interview was through.

  “Mr. President, we noticed that Ethan Reichenbach was not in attendance tonight, and he hasn’t been seen with you in several weeks. You didn’t spend the Thanksgiving holiday together. What’s the status of your relationship with Mr. Reichenbach?”

  His smile tightened. “I don’t comment on my personal life.” He nodded again and tried to reach quietly for Daniels, just behind him.

  “Would you say whether you two are or are not still in a relationship?”

  Daniels pulled him back, as if whispering in his ear. Jack nodded seriously and then turned to the reporter. “Have to run. Happy holidays, everyone!” He waved for the camera before turning and following Daniels’s lead through the crowd, Caldwell and Welby on his heels. A line of black SUVs with flashing red-and-blue lights squealed to a stop on the Ellipse in front of him. Daniels guided Jack to one in the middle, jogging through the crunching snow with his hand on the small of Jack’s back.

  Scott was in the front seat, next to Agent Beech. Jack smiled at both agents as he climbed into the back. Daniels shut the door and rapped twice on the roof, and then Scott pulled away.

  He pulled out his cell, thumbing open the text messages from Ethan. [I’m here.]

  [You look good on TV :) ]

  His heart skipped a beat as the White House loomed closer, and they headed for the security gate. Ethan was inside. He was finally there. Finally back where he belonged, in DC, at the White House, and―soon―by Jack’s side.

  I’m on my way!

  Ethan bit his lip and slid his phone into his pocket. He was dressed down in jeans and his black sweater―the one that hugged all his muscles―and pacing at the top of the Grand Staircase. Any minute, Jack would be back. He exhaled, rubbed his palms down his jeans, and pivoted, pacing again.

  Hanier had picked him up at the airport, shaking his hand before pulling him in for a quick hug. They’d piled into the SUV, and Hanier had turned on the red and blues, making fast time back to the White House while they caught up, until his friend and fellow agent dropped him at the private entrance with a wink.

  Footsteps echoed over the marble floor of the Cross Hall below. He spun, blowing air out of his hollowed cheeks as he waited. The stairs were U-shaped, with a landing halfway down at the bend.

  Ethan spotted Jack rushing up the lower half, taking the stairs two at a time, his black overcoat flapping behind him.

  Jack rounded the curve, one hand on the bannister, and looked up. His eyes met Ethan’s.

  He stilled.

  And then broke into a thousand-watt smile, his whole face lit from within. He pounded up the last of the stairs, his gaze fixed to Ethan’s until he came to a stop right in front of him, so close their chests brushed.

  “Hey,” Jack breathed. His eyes glittered as he gave Ethan a long once-over. He leaned forward, as if he was going to fall into Ethan, but caught himself, rocking back on the balls of his feet.

  “Hey.” Ethan’s grin was shy. He couldn’t look away, but he couldn’t move either. For weeks, all he’d wanted was to reach for Jack, hold him in his arms, and now that he was inches away, he was struck immobile, frozen by everything Jack was. His fingers tingled and his palms twitched as his eyes roamed over Jack and his stunning smile.

  Jack glanced up and grinned.

  A sprig of mistletoe had been tacked to the archway above.

  “I put it up this morning,” Jack confessed. “Dragged a chair from the dining room.”

  “The Jefferson chairs?” Ethan frowned. “Jack! You’re the president. You shouldn’t be standing on a chair at the top of the staircase. What if you fell?”

  Jack laughed, throwing his head back, and reached for Ethan. He gripped Ethan’s biceps, tugging him close, and then stroked up Ethan’s shoulders and behind his neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed, right before he captured Ethan’s lips in a heated kiss.

  Ethan’s frozen fear shattered. His arms wrapped around Jack, pulling him flush to his body as their kiss continued, turned searing. Jack sucked at Ethan’s lower lip. Ethan grabbed Jack’s overcoat and tugged it off his shoulders.

  Jack shoved him backward, starting him down the hall, and reached for the hem of his sweater.

  Ethan dropped Jack’s overcoat and then his suit jacket in a line as they moved, never breaking their kiss. Jack’s tie came off next, then Ethan’s sweater, and Jack’s hands roamed over Ethan’s chest. Jack’s lips traveled down Ethan’s neck, sucking on his collarbone, his chest, as Ethan fumbled with Jack’s belt. They were stumbling down the hall, a trail of clothes in their wake, but it wasn’t fast enough. Ethan burned, wanting more.

  His back hit the wall, hard, as Jack shoved him, burying his face in Ethan’s chest and leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from his nipple to his ear and then back to his lips. Jack’s hands worked at Ethan’s jeans as Ethan shivered and pushed Jack’s pants down. The black fabric fell to the floor, pooling around his feet.

  Jack toed out of his shoes and laced their fingers, pressing Ethan’s hands to the wall over his head. He sucked Ethan’s lower lip into his mouth again, grinning, and then slowly slid down Ethan’s body while he tugged Ethan’s jeans off. Fuck, his body felt so good, hot and solid against Ethan, pressed tight with every inch of his slither.

  Ethan’s head hit the wall as Jack’s lips closed over his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

  “Jac
k…”

  Jack winked up at him, lips wrapped around his cockhead.

  Ethan pulled Jack to his feet. “Bedroom. Now.” Jack stood, his knees popping, and dragged Ethan the rest of the way down the hall. Their trail of clothes stretched from the stairs to the bedroom door as Jack tore his undershirt off and Ethan stripped out of his boxers.

  Ethan grabbed Jack, kissing him again, his hands slipping through Jack’s hair, cupping the back of his head. Jack seemed to touch him everywhere, fingers dancing over his ribs before stroking down his arms, before cupping his ass and squeezing. Ethan stumbled to the bed, walking backward. The backs of his knees hit the mattress, and Jack gently pushed him down.

  And then Jack was on top of him, his warm body covering Ethan’s, from their near frantic kisses to their curling toes. Ethan’s legs wrapped around Jack’s, and his hands raced up and down Jack’s back, gripping muscles as he arched and writhed against Jack’s body. Jack groaned and thrust against him, their cocks sliding together as he kissed Ethan breathless.

  It had been too long for them to make it last. Ethan was too strung out on nerves and anticipation. He came embarrassingly fast, shuddering beneath Jack as Jack pressed an openmouthed kiss to his temple, his ear, and breathed his name. A few moments later, Jack’s come seared his belly as Jack’s hands threaded through his hair, holding tight as he stared into Ethan’s eyes and rode the final crest of his orgasm.

  Ethan’s arms wound around Jack as he collapsed, pillowing his head on Ethan’s chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head, smelling his hair, and smiled. “Missed you,” he whispered.

  Jack’s fingers made patterns on Ethan’s skin, through his chest hair, tracing the line of his pec and the taut peak of his nipple. “Missed you every single minute.”

  His throat squeezed shut at that, and his hands stroked up and down Jack’s back. He kissed Jack’s hair again and looped one of his legs around Jack’s. The exhaustion of the week, the peaceful stillness of the Residence, and the serenity of being in Jack’s arms again conspired against him, and Ethan’s eyelids drooped, falling closed. As he drifted off, he caught the faint sounds of Jack snoring, and he pressed one last kiss to Jack’s mussed dirty-blond hair.

  Ethan woke first, before the sun was up. In the darkness of Jack’s bedroom, Ethan’s gaze roamed over his lover. They hadn’t moved much through the night, sleeping diagonally across the large bed and facing each other. Jack’s expression had smoothed out in sleep, his laugh lines softer. The curve of his cheek caught a beam of muted light through the window. Ethan curled closer, burying his nose in Jack’s hair, holding Jack, letting his mind go blank as his hands caressed Jack’s skin, the curves of his muscles, the smooth planes of his back.

  Jack’s eyes flickered as the sun rose. He smiled before they opened, and he rolled into Ethan’s chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Waking up on Saturday morning with you here is one of my most favorite things.”

  “Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast.” Ethan kissed his temple, rubbing Jack’s arms.

  “Later. I don’t want you to leave.” Jack tilted his head up, and his lips found Ethan’s.

  They traded slow kisses and sleepy grins, their warm bodies tangled together. Ethan’s cock, half-hard already, stiffened.

  Jack grinned. He rocked against Ethan’s thigh until Ethan rolled him over and slid down his body, pressing kisses to his ribs and his hips before he swallowed Jack deep. Shuddering, Jack ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair as Ethan’s fingers traced ticklish patterns into the soft skin of his thighs.

  Ethan reached for the lube and a condom, already out on the bedside table, and pulled them to the bed. Jack’s eyes blazed, and he sat up on his elbows as Ethan popped the top off the lube.

  Ethan kneeled between Jack’s legs and poured some lube onto his fingers.

  Jack stroked his cock, mouth open, breathing hard.

  Reaching behind himself, Ethan rubbed his fingers over his asshole, slicking and stretching his entrance. His lips parted. He held Jack’s burning stare.

  “C’mere,” Jack whispered. “Let me blow you while you’re―”

  Flushing, Ethan clambered up the mattress as Jack propped a pillow behind his head. Jack’s hands steadied Ethan’s hips, as he kissed the head of Ethan’s swollen cock before slowly sucking him into his mouth.

  Ethan worked quickly, more lube and more fingers, groaning through clenched teeth as he tried not to buck into Jack’s hot lips. “Ready,” he grunted. “Ready for you.”

  Jack fumbled for the condom packet. The wrapper crinkled as he tore it open, still sucking on Ethan, and he rolled it over his cock behind Ethan’s back. Ethan passed him the lube. The sound of him slicking his condom-covered cock shivered up Ethan’s spine.

  Biting his lip again, Jack watched wide-eyed as Ethan scooted back on Jack’s lap until Jack’s cock pressed against him. Ethan rose, fit them together, and sank down slowly.

  Jack stared, mouth open, cheeks flushed, hands gripping Ethan’s thighs and nails digging into his skin. Inch by inch, Ethan worked himself down as Jack speared him. The stretch, the feeling of Jack entering his body, writhed just beneath his skin, a liquid heat that slithered through him. His eyes rolled back, his mouth dropping open.

  Jack whimpered, shuddering when Ethan bottomed out, impaled on his cock.

  They moved slowly at first, Ethan rocking on Jack’s lap and stroking his chest, running his fingers over Jack’s skin until he laced their fingers together and pushed Jack’s hands over his head. He moved deeper, riding Jack’s cock in long, slow movements, up and down, as Jack shivered and whispered his name, staring into his eyes.

  Eventually, Ethan picked up the pace, driving down on Jack faster, harder, curling over Jack, their foreheads pressed together, sweat pricking at their skin. Jack reached for Ethan, cupping his hands around the back of his neck as he gasped. Ethan braced one hand on the headboard and stroked his cock furiously with the other.

  “I’m close,” Jack breathed. “You’re too hot. Too beautiful. Ethan―” He groaned, his eyes rolling back, but they snapped back to Ethan’s face, staring.

  “God, me too.” Ethan shuddered, coiled lust tight in his gut. “Shit. Shit, Jack. Come with me. Come―”

  Jack lunged, driving into Ethan as he tugged at Ethan’s neck, pressing their lips together and kissing him with wide-open eyes as Ethan’s orgasm tore through his body. He moaned into Jack’s kiss, come splattering Jack’s chest as his whole body clenched and quivered. Jack gasped, and his hips snapped up, pressed deep into Ethan as his hands cupped Ethan’s cheeks, and his trembling lips kissed Ethan breathless.

  They kissed until Jack slipped from Ethan’s body. Jack palmed the condom off and let it drop to the floor before wiping his chest clean with a towel hidden by the bed. Ethan pitched sideways, nuzzling Jack’s neck, and they dozed off holding hands, foreheads pressed together.

  5

  Washington DC

  Rumbling stomachs forced them to rise around noon. Hair sticking every which way, they padded to the kitchen and made sandwiches together just in their boxers, trading kisses and wrapping their arms around each other’s waists. Ethan blended smoothies for them, and they sat in the West Sitting Hall and fed each other slowly.

  Jack brought out his notes for the UN, the Joint Chiefs’ proposals, and President Puchkov’s alliance, and they spread everything out on the couches and tables as they talked it all through. Ethan laughed as Jack, shirtless, made stacks of the Joint Chiefs’ proposals for military operations, counting them off one by one. Later, he sat next to him on the couch and rubbed Jack’s feet while he listened to Jack speculate on President Puchkov’s eccentricities. They moved to the combat plans next, and Jack turned pensive.

  “I want your opinion, Ethan. What would be best for the troops on the ground? You’ve been there. Done this before.” Jack swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling, as he sat with his elbows braced on his knees. “I want to bring everyone home
.”

  It was an impossible ask, but Ethan knew where Jack’s desire came from: a folded flag and a white headstone in Arlington with his wife’s name etched into the marble.

  They talked until the sky turned dark and the lights in the Residence winked on around them. Ethan held out his hand for Jack and led him to the shower. He washed Jack slowly as Jack tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Jack let Ethan dry his hair, rubbing the towel over his head as he scrunched up his nose and laughed at himself in the mirror.

  Jeans and long-sleeve pullovers later, they headed down from the Residence. Ethan sheepishly collected their trail of clothes first, though. From the landing at the middle of the stairs, anyone could have seen the start of the trail. How many of his fellow agents had chuckled at the display?

  Jack threaded his fingers through Ethan’s as they came down the stairs. Daniels and Beech appeared in the Cross Hall, arriving from the West Wing. “Saw you on the monitors.” Daniels grinned. “Coming down for air?”

  Ethan blushed as Jack spoke. “I’d like a tour of the Christmas decorations.” He squeezed Ethan’s hand. “I waited for you so we could do it together.”

  Ethan’s heart burst.

  Daniels called out over the radio, “Vigilant and Reichenbach about to tour the decorations. Be advised.”

  They started in the Cross Hall, admiring the garlands and wreaths strung overhead. Bulbs in every color glittered from the garlands, along with crushed velvet bows. Poinsettias clustered around the columns and the foot of the Grand Staircase, and a red-and-gold ribbon swirled under the bannister, heading up the stairs.

  At one end of the Cross Hall, a stately evergreen stood tall, overlooking the presidential portraits. Gold stars hung from the thick boughs, and plush red, white, and blue ribbons twirled around the tree.

  “This is the Armed Forces tree,” Ethan said softly, squeezing Jack’s hand. “A gold star for―”