Page 65 of Worth the Wait

Callum turned back to the telescope and refocused on Triangulum.

“Your freckles remind me of the stars,” Jack whispered against his cheek. “It was the first thought I had when I saw them. Un-discovered and unexplored territory.”

Jack’s fingers made soft circles around the splattering of freckles on his chest.

“I made my decision then,” Jack told him.

“What decision?” Callum’s voice was scratchier than normal. He cleared his throat, hands shaking against the telescope.

“That I was going to be the one to explore them. To map the topography of your skin.”

“I thought we were talking about astronomy,” Callum mumbled.

“We’re talking about you,” Jack corrected, hands drifting down to Callum’s hips and settling there like his fingers were made to fit against his bones.

Jack held him that way while he searched out more constellations, with Jack offering the names and stories when he could, but Callum didn’t remember a single one besides Triangulum.

Later, they packed up the picnic and returned to the car. Jack drove him home and walked him to the door, boxing him in against the wall and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe. Callum reached between them, fumbling for the button of Jack’s pants, but Jack stopped him, stepping back and ending the kiss.

“Not on the first date,” Jack reminded him.

Callum licked his lips an stepped forward. “The second?”

“Maybe.” Jack pressed a chaste kiss against his swollen mouth.

“Tomorrow?”

Jack laughed and put more space between them.

“Very soon, kitten. I promise.” He took three steps down the hall before turning to watch Callum make it into his apartment.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” he said weakly.

“Sweet dreams, kitten.”

18

Jack

Jack satat the dining room table the following morning, quietly drinking coffee while Verity fried an ungodly amount of bacon.

“Did you know I walked in on Gregory penetrating Landon on a plate of bacon?” they asked conversationally, sliding a spatula worth of fatty pork strips onto a paper towel.

“Really?”

They nodded.

“Right there where you’re sitting,” Verity answered, pointing toward the table with their spatula.

Jack raised his arms and mug from the table, horrified. Verity laughed, dropping their plate of bacon in the center of the table and sliding into the seat across from him.

“Don’t worry, Landon was wearing a robe. So it’s not like there’s sex juice in the wood or anything.”

“Sex juice?”

Verity snorted. “Is that not the technical term?”

“It’s a wonder someone hasn’t snatched you up and made you a spouse yet,” Jack mused, sipping his coffee and eyeing the bacon tentatively.