There are so many little snippets I have to cut from things I’m writing, because they’re nice and all but they don’t necessarily further the story, or they’re too close to something else I’ve written before, the same themes coming up again and again.
Anyway, here’s a snippet of Jack musing on his relationship with Channon, and the future, and other lovely things that don’t fit anywhere. Oh, and it comes with a visual aide.
(This comes from the Pinterest board for His Boy Next Door,
which you can check out here.)
Jack watching Channon sleep
Jack ran his hand down the long, soft curve of Channon’s back. This body was his to do with whatever he wanted. It felt like such a fragile, precarious thing. Once upon a time he’d treated it like a toy—to be honest, he still did, when the mood suited him. But now it was so much more than that. Now it was precious.
Precious as a body, certainly, but more importantly because it housed Channon himself, and *that* was the thing Jack valued most. Channon’s body was beautiful, smelled good, felt even better wrapped around Jack’s cock, but all of that was superficial. Channon was in there, and the way that Channon bent for Jack, the way he submitted, that was the truly precious thing. The way Channon looked at him, wanting Jack’s approval and praise, that was what Jack craved. Being worshiped by him the way only Channon did, yes, that he was addicted to. And Channon gave him that, so easily.
He wanted Channon. All of him. He wanted Channon for always, knowing time would change them both. But Channon would still be himself at his core, still the kernel of characteristics that filled Jack with a now-familiar warmth. His boy. His precious *boy*.
And would Channon still love him when he himself had changed? There were plenty of years left in them, but Channon would only grow more handsome over time while Jack was already in his prime, would peak at maybe forty, which meant that the only path for him was decline. He could age gracefully, was already doing everything he could to ensure that, but this was a battle that time would win.
If Channon loved only Jack’s body, then Jack knew he would one day lose him. And if Channon loved something intangibly more than that, Jack might stand a chance of keeping him. If there was, indeed, anything more to Jack than his looks, his money, his expensive suits, the things he did to Channon’s body with his own.
Channon stirred, rolling over and blinking at him. His mouth curved gently in the morning light. “Sir,” he murmured. His hand found Jack’s and wound their fingers together, soft and vulnerable and so trusting it made Jack’s chest ache.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Jack said. Channon nuzzled Jack’s shoulder, wrapping one leg around Jack’s as if the distance between them were too much to bear. He mumbled something, still half asleep. Jack carded fingers through Channon’s hair and closed his eyes, envisioning a future in which they did this for the rest of their lives.
There was more to this than surface attraction. This was them both, together. There was nothing like it in the world. This was his. He wouldn’t give it up for anything.
A deleted snippet from His Boy Next Door, which you should definitely check out if you haven’t already.