by T. J. Klune
Mine.
THE next time Jonah called, Otter didn’t pick up.
11.
Where Bear Is Forced
into the Ocean
“I DO not!” I growl, looking down at Otter, who’s grinning up at me from his perch on my chest.
He snorts and gently nips my stomach, making me squirm. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says. “All I know is, anytime any part of my mouth is on any part of your body, you make the face.” He shows me it again, rolling his eyes back in his head and opening his mouth, tongue hanging out as he pants. I laugh and smack him upside the head with a pillow.
“Whatever,” I say, grinning at him. “If you think I do that because it’s a good thing, you’re wrong. That’s my bored face. I wish you could do this whole sex thing better. Jesus Christ, Otter, you’re the gay one here; I would think you would know how to please another guy.”
His eyes sparkle mischievously, and he lowers his lips down to my stomach again, and I think he is going to lick in that one place, and I prepare myself to not make the face (the face being, of course, the slack-jawed, pinnacle of ecstasy that he sends me shooting to) when he presses his lips against my stomach and blows as hard as he can. The farting noise rips through the room, and all my senses explode at once, and before I can stop myself, I shriek like a girl and try to bat him off of me. His arms wrap around me as he holds me down, and I can feel him grinning into my torso as he does it again. Bastard.
Finally he rolls off of me and lies on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he sighs contentedly. That lopsided grin that I’ve come to yearn for adorns his face. As I stare down at him, Creed’s words from weeks before come into my head: That guy wears his heart on his sleeve. He couldn’t have been more right about that. When Otter’s upset or down, you can see it in his eyes. When he’s happy, it’s like being on the fucking moon. And when that happiness is directed toward me… well, let’s just say I know that I’m going to be making the face at some point in the near future. I chuckle softly to myself.
Otter raises his forearm off his face and raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head and move to my place on his shoulder. He grunts appreciatively and wraps his arms around me and pulls me in closer.
“That’s bullshit, you know,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair.
“What is?”
“You’ve made that face for damn near three months now. You did it the first time, and you’ve done it since. I know what I’m doing.”
I roll my eyes and decide to concede. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine, big man. You win this one.” I pinch his nipple gently, and he hisses softly and arches into it. “You give mean head.”
“Damn right I do,” he grumbles, clasping my hand against his chest.
We lay there for a while longer, not speaking, the late-morning August sun pouring in through the window. Nearly three months, I think, amused. Has it really been that long already? I chide myself playfully, knowing I sound like a thirteen-year-old in his first relationship. These three months have been three months longer than I thought anything like this would last. Since our huge blowup in his backyard, Otter and I have fallen into a wonderful understanding, an understanding that is allowing both us to look tentatively to the future. I’ve started looking into what it will take for me to get back into school. A few weeks ago, Otter picked up his camera again and started taking pictures. He even went out and bought the Kid a camera of his own, and those two have been going at it like fiends. The Kid is actually pretty good, much to Otter’s chagrin.
It’s funny to me, looking back where I was a year ago, compared to where I am now. Everything has changed, almost all of it for the better. For the first time in a very long time, I’m content with not knowing what tomorrow could bring. Granted, I still have the worries that come with being a twentysomething brother/parent, and the questions about who I really am, but those don’t seem to be as big a deal as they used to be. It has gotten me thinking lately, that if things can be this good, that if I can be this happy, then why should I have to hide this anymore? Why should this have to be a secret from those that love me most? That’s why I’ve made the decision I have, the decision I have yet to tell Otter. Well, no time like the present.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, yourself,” Otter says back.
“I want to tell Creed.” His hand, which up until a second ago had been playing lazily with my hair, freezes. I feel his chest rise as he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Otter then rolls on his side, laying me gently on the pillow next to him. He puts his forehead against mine and gazes into my eyes, searching for any validity to what I’ve just said. I grin shyly at him, and he smiles back, and I can feel his warm breath upon my face.
“You sure?” he asks, his eyes hoping.
I nod slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I told myself I needed to tell him about us before he leaves. The party he’s throwing is what… nine days away? And he leaves two days after that?” Otter nods. “So that gives me just under two weeks to be able to get my nerve up.”
Otter’s hand comes up and strokes my cheek softly. “You sure you want to do this, Bear? You know I’m not forcing you to do this, right? I want this to be your decision, and I would support you either way.”
“I know,” I tell him, and I do. Otter has been true to his word. And it makes me feel better to know that he realizes that it’s not just necessarily about us, that it’s primarily about me. Yes, Otter’s my boyfriend and Creed’s older brother, but Creed is going to have to be faced with the fact that his best friend just happens to like dick. And not just any dick, but the dick belonging to his brother. This conversation could go in so many different directions that I’ve found it easier to try and not think about that part.
Otter grins his grin and kisses me on the lips. “Bear McKenna, you’ve just made my day.”
I smirk at him. “I thought I made your day when I let you fuck me for the last two hours.”
His grin becomes evil, and he rolls back on top of me, deepening his kisses as he rubs his body up and down mine. His lips leave mine, and he kisses my jaw up to my ear, and then his tongue does this little swirl thing, and my toes curl and I groan softly. He chuckles into my ear and does it again. Then his tongue is gone, replaced by his lips that whisper, “God, I hope you know how much I love you.”
“I do,” I gasp as he kisses down my neck.
Much to my annoyance, he stops his trek and stares down at me. “Do you want me to be there when you tell him?”
I think for a moment and then shake my head. “I think it would be better if it were just him and me. I don’t know how well this is going to go, and I don’t need you there, threatening to kick his ass if he reacts badly.”
“I’d murder him if he said anything stupid,” Otter agrees. “But I really don’t think he’s going to care all that much. It may very well be the only thing he’s pissed off about is not finding this out earlier.”
I nod. “I’ve thought of that, and if I’m lucky, that’s the only thing he’ll be mad at me for. That’s the only thing that would justify any anger. I still can’t help but feel like I’m going to be walking into a lion’s den with this.”
Otter kisses my forehead. “You don’t worry about a thing. God forbid if it shouldn’t go well, but just remember that he is going to be going back to school in a couple weeks. If he is truly upset about all this, at least you two will have space to be able to work that out. It’s probably best that you waited to tell him until now.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “I thought so too. As a matter of fact”—I glance over at the clock on the nightstand—“where is he right now?”
Otter’s eyes widen slightly. “Now? You want to do it now?”
I shrug. “Might as well, before I chicken out.”
“He said he was going out with someone for lunch and would be back later.”
“Who has he been seeing lately? Do you know?” I ask Otter. Ever since the da
y when Creed had told me about Jonah and Otter, he had been taking off at random times, saying he was going out or hanging out with friends or going to do something. He never elaborated, never explained himself. When asked, he would grin and change the subject. Creed had never been one to keep secrets, so it was a little disconcerting to me that it seemed that we were both doing it.
Otter shakes his head. “I don’t know. He never brings it up to me. I think he’s started dating someone here, but I’ve never seen anyone come around here or heard him talking to anyone on the phone.”
“This whole thing would be easier for me if he was seeing a guy,” I tell Otter, who laughs. “That way, he can’t get pissed off at me for keeping this from him.”
“I highly doubt my little brother is getting done in the ass by some dude,” Otter says, and we both shudder at the thought. That would just be… gross.
“Did he say what time he was going to be back?”
“He said sometime tonight. Do I need to make myself scarce or something?”
I batten down my resolve. It’s either now or never. “Could you?” I ask Otter. “If he gets back in time, maybe you can just go to my house and relieve Mrs. Paquinn of her Kid-watching duties for me. I told her I would be back by seven at the latest.”
“That’ll work. But you better call me if you need anything. I swear to God, Bear, if Creed starts being stupid, you better let me know.”
I bat my eyes at him. “Why, so you can come rescue me?”
He kisses me again. “Yeah, and so I can shove my foot up his ass.”
I laugh. “My hero,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him back down on top of me.
“Shower?” he says hopefully into my neck. Otter has this weird (and oh so hot) thing about doing it in the shower.
“Shower,” I say happily. I shout as he picks me up with one arm and throws me over his shoulder. It’s okay, though. I have a great view of his ass.
Maybe this whole Creed thing won’t be as bad as I think.
AN HOUR later, we hop back into his room, dripping wet and furiously spent. I want nothing more than to curl up under the covers with Otter, but the Kid is at home, and I need to find out where Creed is. I yell at Otter when he smacks my bare ass with his hand as I reach down to pull my phone out of my pants. He laughs and lies on his bed on his back, grinning at me and wiggling his eyebrows as he runs his hand slowly up and down his body. My mouth goes dry for a second as my cock tries to twitch into gear, but it’s a no-go. Six times in four hours is enough to make anybody exhausted, even if the object of their desires is splayed out in front of them, doing their best to get a rise. Otter smirks as I grumble and sit down on the bed next to him, trying to ignore his self-ministrations. I open my phone and am surprised to see five missed calls. No voice mails. I hadn’t been able to hear it ring from the shower. I frown as I go to the missed call list and see that the Kid has called me three times and Mrs. Paquinn the other two.
Trying to keep the low-level panic at bay, I show the phone to Otter. He stares at it thoughtfully and reaches over me to the nightstand and grabs his phone. “The Kid called me a few times too,” he says. “And another number I don’t recognize.” He reads it off, and it matches Mrs. Paquinn’s cell phone.
“Why wouldn’t they leave any voice mails?” I ask, my voice a little higher than it should be. My hands start to shake slightly, and Otter notices it and grabs them in his hands, rubbing softly.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Bear,” Otter says gently. “If it was something big, they would have left a message, right?” He takes one of his hands away and reaches to his phone and presses a button and puts it to his ear.
“Who are you calling?” I ask, trying to calm myself down.
“The Kid,” he says, smiling reassuringly at me. “They probably just want to know what time you’re getting home.” His smile slides slowly from his voice as I hear Ty’s voice mail pick up. “Hmm,” he mutters. He ends the call, then dials another number. “Mrs. Paquinn?” he says after a moment. “It’s Otter Thompson. I’m fine. How are you?” I motion my hands in front of Otter’s face, telling him to get to the point. “Did you call my phone earlier? You did? Oh, he’s right here. Yes. Is the Kid okay? I’m sorry, I meant Ty. Is Tyson alright?” He covers the mouthpiece with his hand and says, “Ty’s fine, Bear.” I feel a surge of relief wash through me and flop back on the bed. Jesus Christ. Otter goes back to the phone. “I’m sorry? Now? Yes, I can tell him. Tell Ty that we’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay, bye.” He clips off the phone and stares down at it thoughtfully.
“What is it?” I ask nervously, a sinking feeling rising up in my stomach again.
“She said….” He pauses and then cocks his head to the side. “She said that you need to get home right away to ‘help resolve a situation’.”
“A situation? What the hell does that mean?” I ask, already shoving my legs into my shorts.
“I don’t know, Papa Bear. I guess we’ll see when we get there.”
I groan inwardly. It looks like I’m not going to be talking to Creed tonight.
TEN minutes later, we pull up into my apartment complex. Otter parks his Jeep next to mine, where it had been since he’d picked me up earlier today. He turns off the Jeep and turns to me and smiles crookedly. I want to smile back, but I can’t, but he seems to know this, and it’s okay with him. He leans over the center console and kisses me quickly, his stubble rough and wonderful against my face. Otter squeezes my hand, and we get out of the car and make our way up the steps and get to the door. I hesitate before sliding the key in the lock. I don’t know why, but I suddenly have a very bad feeling about what’s on the other side of this door. It seems Ty is okay and nothing appears to be wrong with Mrs. Paquinn, and for the life of me, I can’t think of what else this could possibly be about. Don’t ask me, it says. I’m just as confused on this as you are. I feel Otter put his hand on my back, and it gives me a weak burst of courage, and I unlock the door and walk inside.
As soon as we’re inside, the Kid runs into the hallway and launches himself into my arms. It catches me by surprise and knocks me back gently into Otter. I can feel the Kid trembling, and he puts his face into my chest and his heart beats rapidly against mine. I glance back at Otter, a look of concern marring his handsome face. He reaches from behind me and puts his arms around my waist and brings them up the Kid’s back and rubs him soothingly.
“What’s going on, Ty?” Otter asks.
Ty pulls back enough for me to see how wide his eyes are. “She’s here,” he whispers.
“Who’s here?” I ask, confused and scared. Ty shakes his head and puts himself back into my chest and breathes heavily against me. I haven’t seen him like this in months.
Otter comes around to my side and puts his arm around me. I look at him, and he smiles back and squeezes my shoulder. I will my feet to start moving and eventually they do, one after another. It’s only eight or nine steps to the living room, but it’s the longest walk of my life. As we turn the corner, I see Mrs. Paquinn sitting rigidly on a chair, facing the couch on the opposite side of the room. She looks at me and there’s something in her eyes, something I can’t quite place. I think it may be sorrow or fear or any number of things that people think when a bomb is about to be dropped. I honestly still can’t see what’s so bad. Ty’s in my arms, breathing and safe (even though he’s petrified about something), and our apartment hasn’t burned down, and Mrs. Paquinn isn’t dead. I try to let myself feel some sense of relief. I try, that is, until I hear Otter speak beside me.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“Hello, Bear,” my mother says.
I think I must be hearing things, because it couldn’t be her. I allow myself to be amused for a split second that I would still be able to recognize her voice after all these years. Then I think I must be seeing things as I turn to look at the couch, because what I’m seeing couldn’t possibly be there. Julie McKenna is sitting on the couch, h
er back as rigid as Mrs. Paquinn’s. Her dark hair is shorter now and pulled back into a ponytail. On most, this would give a youthful appearance, but what I am struck by most when I see her for the first time in over three years is how old she looks. The crow’s feet around her eyes divot and scar her face. Her cheeks are puffy, and it looks like she’s gained weight. The lumpy dress she’s wearing screams sale rack at Kmart, and the shoes are blocky, nondescript. The necklace she’s wearing is too shiny to be anything but cheap plastic. She looks beat, weathered, like nothing in her life has ever gone her way. Instinctively, I grip the Kid harder, trying to make him disappear so he never has to see where he came from, only where he’s going. My eyes never leave my mother’s, and I’m almost horrified to see that they are the only thing about her that has not faded, the only thing about her that looks the same. They look the same because they are the brown of my eyes, the brown of the Kid’s.
I feel a protective hand on my shoulder and realize it’s Otter. I tear myself away from my mom for a moment and glance at him. His face is tense, his eyes hard. He’s glaring at my mother and not doing anything to hide it. He feels my eyes on him and turns to me and squeezes my shoulder again, his eyes shifting from anger to hold us, me and Ty, in the same regard he always does. It’s almost enough to knock the drowning fear out of me. Almost. His eyes grow cold again as he glances back at my mom. She looks between us nervously and attempts another smile and fails miserably.
