Bad Company

by K.A. Mitchell

  Kellan would be a little more freaked about his dick’s performance than about why he didn’t want to marry a sweet girl who loved him, except he hadn’t had any trouble getting off between the lips of that waitress—or between those huge tits.

  “So Dad starts going on about the cost of the ring—”

  Nate’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

  “Well, I couldn’t ask for it back. And it was fifty grand. But then with her dad being a senator and the national bottle deposit shit happening—”

  “Yeah, that’s a crisis, all right. Actually expecting companies to stop fighting recycling so we don’t end up on Planet Garbage.”

  Talking about his dad’s company wasn’t the best way to get Nate on his side. “So this morning he made me come over to the office in Dundalk to see him.”

  “Made you?”

  Nate couldn’t get it. Would never get Kellan’s dad. Nobody said no to Geoffrey Brooks. Not till today. And still Kellan hadn’t managed to spit it in the old man’s face.

  “Told me, whatever. When I got there, he started in on me about wasting my life and not accepting responsibility, and how I never had to work for anything in my life.”

  “Shit, now you’ve made me agree with your father. Just when I thought I couldn’t hate you more.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think even you would say you wished I’d never been born because I’ll never live up to Keegan.”

  Nate bit his lip and looked away. “No, I wouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s not like I didn’t know he was always thinking it. He finally said it.” Kellan managed a shrug while the words still churned through him, stirring a rage he’d never known he could feel. Worse than what his father had said was the idea he’d put there, that Kellan had done something to dishonor Keegan.

  Kellan remembered a lot about his brother Keegan. How tall he’d been. The way he could throw Kellan in the air, like he did when he got home from school every day. The Keegan in his head didn’t look anything like the somber picture of him in his uniform next to the boxed American flag that was always on display wherever his mom was living.

  Nate came along after the Brooks family moved away from the house with “too many memories.” Nate had only ever met Keegan next to the stone in the cemetery.

  Catching Kellan’s eye, Nate asked, “Then what? Your dad threw you out? He’s done that before.”

  “Not like this. None of my credit cards work. He told me the house is off-limits, that he’d changed the codes and would have me arrested for trespassing. He said the same thing about any of my cars. They’re all in his name because—”

  “You still don’t have a license?”

  “It got suspended again. But I wasn’t drunk this time, man. This was for speeding.”

  Nate’s lips flattened in a thin line. If he had been sorry for what Dad had said about wishing Kellan had never been born, it was all over now. Nate probably never got a parking ticket. Kellan stroked Quan Yin under her chin and poked at the puddle under his beer.

  “Again, why are you here?”

  “The old man said he’d give me one last chance before he washed his hands of me. If I could show some responsibility—like prove that I could do something without fucking it up—”

  “Like what?”

  “He said a lot of shit. Stuff like ‘Get a steady job’ and ‘Stop whoring around.’” Then he’d said the something that had Kellan determined to throw it all back in his face. “Oh, and he says, ‘Maybe some woman will take pity on you and try to make you a man. God knows I couldn’t.’ Fuck him.” Quan Yin jerked her head away at the growl in Kellan’s voice and then licked his wrist as if to tell him to calm down.

  “So what the hell does that have to do with me?”

  “Geoffrey thinks he wins.” Kellan rubbed around the cat’s ears as he dug in his back pocket for the piece of paper his father’s secretary had handed him that morning. “That I’m going to follow his little action plan like one of his cubicle slaves. He’s in for a shock. What would make him shit his drawers more than anything?” He looked steadily at Nate. “What kind of organizations can always count on Brooks Blast Energy Drinks for a donation?”

  Nate’s eyes widened. He’d never been slow to figure stuff out. “That’s why you wanted a boyfriend?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m going to find someone to make a man out of me. A gay man. Geoffrey Brooks, CEO of the most homophobic corporation in America, will now have an out and proud gay son.”

  Chapter Three

  FOR A second, the possibility shone as bright as Christmas morning in the most consumption-driven advertisement Nate had ever seen. He could screw Kellan Brooks and his gay-hating, environment-destroying father at the same time. One for fun, one for revenge. Except they’d both be for revenge. Nate could always come up with a reason for fucking, but revenge wasn’t a particularly good one. And there was that gigantic obstacle staring him in the face.

  Kellan wasn’t gay.

  “Great plan. Let me know how it works. I’ve got about a hundred bucks in cash. Take it, wave it around at the Arena, and someone will suck your cock and video it. Forget the cash, just take off your shirt and I’m sure someone will do you for free. Have fun.”

  “That’s not the plan.”

  “Trust me. It’ll work. The papers will run with it.”

  Kellan shook his head and kept petting Nate’s quisling cat.

  “Really, man. This is my job. Hell, I’ll even print an article on your coming out.”

  “He’ll only think I’m drunk.”

  “So what’s your plan?” The question was uncomfortably familiar. How many times had Kellan proposed a plan when they were kids? How many times had Nate pointed out all the flaws in it? How many times had they gone and done it anyway?

  “You.”

  “No.”

  “It’s perfect.” Kellan unfolded the paper he’d tossed on the counter, smoothing it over the condensation ring from his beer.

  Nate picked it up and shook it dry while wiping down the counter around Quan Yin, whose look of exasperated resignation was almost a match for Kellan’s.

  Kellan snatched the paper back and put it on the now-dry countertop. “See? Under Personal?”

  As an editor, Nate had no trouble reading upside down, sideways, or on the back of a receipt, but Kellan read his father’s action plan aloud.

  “All physical conduct with the opposite sex is to be conducted in private. No public drunkenness. Maintain a fixed address and contribute to household expenses if dwelling is shared. Proof of expenses paid required—canceled checks or bank statements.”

  Nate pointed from his side of the counter. “You left off the part about ‘Stay out of the papers.’”

  “Yeah, well, it won’t be with a member of the opposite sex, and I won’t be drunk.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to make Geoffrey happy.”

  “Good,” Kellan said.

  “Exactly what ‘fixed address’ are we talking about?” Nate was pretty sure he knew what fixed address Kellan was thinking about.

  “With you.”

  Nate arched his brows.

  Kellan looked over his shoulder. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “You’ll have to share.”

  Kellan beamed at the cat. “With this beautiful lady? No problem.”

  “With me.”

  Kellan glanced from the couch to Nate.

  “The couch is my bed. It folds out. It’s a studio apartment.”

  “Oh. I could— We could— It wouldn’t be that long.”

  On the queen-sized mattress, Yin barely left enough room for Nate. He couldn’t see the three of them crammed there.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Kellan said. “Or get an air mattress.”

  “You said you were broke.”

  “I could get a job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. Something.”

  “Kellan, I’m s
orry all this shit happened to you—”

  “No, you’re not. You think I deserved it.”

  “Yeah, I do. But even if I didn’t, you couldn’t stay here. If you really want to do this, there are lots of other guys in Baltimore—some who’d probably do it for kicks.”

  “None of them are you.”

  For the second time that day, Nate was breathing beer. He held up his hand to stop another assault on his back. Kellan didn’t mean it like that. He probably had known Nate was headed there when they were thirteen, that Nate had a crush on him, and that more than anything had sent Kellan screaming into above-average adolescent male homophobia, but that was half a lifetime ago. No way could Kellan have meant that the way it sounded.

  “Me being with you would make Geoffrey shit pinecones,” Kellan explained when Nate stopped coughing.

  Nate’s ass clenched involuntarily at the image, but he had to admit Kellan was right.

  “Especially after everything you’ve put in your column about him.”

  “You’ve read it?” Shades of Gray, Nate’s weekly column, hadn’t put him in a position to get picked up by more than the HuffPost, and his Queertiquette advice section definitely wasn’t making Dan Savage nervous about his empire. The idea that Kellan Brooks had actually read Nate’s column made him feel… something his overachieving vocabulary couldn’t find a word for.

  “Sometimes.” Kellan shrugged. “You’re funny. A lot funnier than I’d have thought, knowing you.”

  “Thanks.” Whatever that unnamed feeling had been, it was gone now.

  “So, will you help me put the screws to my father?”

  “There’s a lot more to being gay than simply saying you are and then moving in with a guy.”

  “You always say being gay isn’t just about sex.”

  So Kellan had been reading Nate’s stuff.

  “It isn’t only about that. But yeah, having sex with guys is a big part of it too.”

  Kellan stopped petting Yin, and she wandered off to the edge of the counter, where she turned her back on both of them and began grooming herself. After they ignored the giant elephant dick in the room by watching the cat ignore them, Kellan finally pasted on a big smile.

  “I’d do it.”

  “What?”

  “If that’s what it takes, if that will convince you—my dad, the papers, whatever—I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Have gay sex.”

  Kellan was bluffing. They might have been too young for poker when they were friends, but Nate knew Kellan was bluffing. He’d seen too many pictures of Kellan with D-list, D-cup actresses over the years to doubt the guy being anything but a one on the Kinsey scale.

  Nate didn’t do straight boys. But he’d called lots of bluffs.

  “Really. You’re going to have gay sex just to get back at your dad.”

  “Gay, straight. I thought there wasn’t supposed to be a difference.”

  Nate came around the end of the counter and stood in front of Kellan. “Oh, there’s a difference.” Nate ran his hand down the fly of his jeans. “A big one if you’re lucky.”

  Kellan got those two bright red spots high on his cheeks, but he didn’t back down. “Well, obviously the other guy has a dick too, but a hole’s a hole, right?” He swallowed, making Nate want to set his teeth in the thick bob of Kellan’s throat.

  “Not if the other guy’s a top. You think fucking will feel the same when you’re the one with a dick inside you? Exactly who do you plan to be having this gay sex with?”

  Kellan didn’t lose his smile, but there was a hardness to his face now. The way he’d been when he got back that summer and turned into a stranger. “I’ll have it with you. C’mon, bro. You’ve had a hard-on for me since you figured out how to work your dick. This must be like waking up in a candy store.” Kellan used his bigger body to back Nate against the counter until their hips were almost touching. “Suck anything you want.”

  Nice raise, but Nate still had the winning hand. He grabbed Kellan’s hips and ground them together. “Sucking is nice. Be my guest.”

  “Oh, I knew you had it bad for me.” Kellan breathed the words into Nate’s ear. “Did you jerk off thinking about me?”

  Nate shoved his hand between them. “And I suppose this is a roll of quarters in your pocket.” He found the thick length of Kellan’s cock and stroked it.

  Kellan jerked away. “Friction’s friction.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Nate put his elbows on the counter behind him. “If you’re going to play gay chicken, you’d probably be better off playing it with someone who isn’t actually gay.”

  “I’m not chicken.”

  “Yeah? Gonna prove it?” Nate undid the top three buttons on his fly. The pulse in his cock probably had more to do with anger than arousal, but he was going to win this round. Nate hated Geoffrey Brooks on general principle, but Kellan’s betrayal had been personal. “How desperate are you for a place to stay?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I told you what I wanted in the bar.”

  Kellan wiped his hands on his thighs and then shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Like it’s some big deal. I’d do my own if I could reach it.” Despite his words, Kellan simply stood there.

  Nate arched his brows. “That’s all you got, or were you waiting for kneepads?”

  “Fuck you.” Kellan dropped to his knees, eyeing Nate’s crotch like he was waiting for it to attack.

  Kellan would back down now, Nate was sure of it, but he threw in another taunt. “Afraid of trouser snakes?”

  “Shut up, asshole.” Kellan popped the last two buttons of Nate’s fly.

  “Why did it have to be snakes?” Nate teased.

  They’d watched Raiders together a million times, skipping over the boring romance bits, replaying the explosions on slow speed. The line used to always make them laugh, but with Kellan’s breath hitting the thin layer of cotton over Nate’s dick, he wasn’t laughing. Kellan’s smile flashed for a second and was gone.

  Seven years of being closer than Nate imagined even brothers could be told him to back off, to reassure Kellan he could stay as long as he needed, provided he forgot this stupid plan. But those years melted into nothing stacked against the memory of that one year of eviscerating betrayal, of hearing Kellan’s laugh behind the taunts of faggot and queer as Nate got tripped or shoved into lockers by someone who always disappeared when he turned around.

  Nate took the last step and shoved his jeans and boxer briefs out of the way. His dick wasn’t totally convinced it was about to get some action, so he gave it a couple of strokes, concentrating on the shape of the lips, the angle of the waiting jaw. A man’s face. His cock. It would work. “Put up or shut up, Brooks.”

  Kellan licked his lips, nothing but nerves in the flicker of his tongue, but Nate imagined that first wet touch on his skin. That did the trick, a sweet flood of blood swelling him until the head stretched toward Kellan’s mouth.

  Nate put his elbows back on the counter and waited. Everything else was up to Kellan.

  Chapter Four

  KELLAN SWALLOWED and licked his lips again. He could do this. It wasn’t that big a deal. Like Nate said, it was only a game of gay chicken, and no matter what, Kellan was going to win. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the shaft, ignoring how weird it felt to be holding a dick not his own. Wrong angle, wrong hold, but he still expected to feel the grasp on him because in some ways it was the same, satiny skin and heat and the pulse underneath. He jacked the shaft once, then went for it. Nothing half-assed either. He did that thing he liked, where chicks kept their lips closed and slid the tip back and forth, letting it glide across his cheek and then back to his lips.

  Nate shifted, a gasp slipping from his throat. Oh yeah, Kellan was going to win.

  He’d tasted his own come—off a girl’s lips, and once off his hand as a curious kid. Nate tasted—smelled—differe
nt than Kellan did too.

  “Not bad.” Nate wasn’t gasping anymore. “I hate to break it to you if that’s all the head you’ve been getting, but if you’re going to blow me, you have to open your mouth.”

  Kellan looked up, and the way Nate was staring down dropped a heavy weight onto the squirming sensation in Kellan’s gut. If Nate gave that look to all the guys about to suck his dick, no wonder he was so desperate to get done. His eyes were narrowed like he was pissed, his lips thin, flat, shut tight.

  Opening his mouth, Kellan tucked his lips over his teeth and went down hard and fast.

  He choked and backed off, eyes watering from the bitter taste and the quick gag in his throat. Crossing his eyes, he tried to see how much dick he’d managed to get wet since he hadn’t come close to hitting his fingers where they wrapped around the shaft. Shit. It was practically nothing. How the fuck did girls manage it? Kellan’s dick was longer, though he thought Nate’s was thicker. Maybe that was it. Too thick. He licked around the head, and the taste was mostly salt now.

  He licked again and then wrapped his lips right around what Keegan had told his curious baby brother was the helmet of his little soldier. Nate groaned so deep Kellan felt it echo in his belly. Then Nate’s hands smacked into the sides of Kellan’s head, shoving him off and away.

  Kellan had barely regained his balance before the front door slammed behind Nate. The sound echoed around the apartment as Kellan sat back on his heels. “I guess that means I win,” he told the empty room.

  NATE HAD never been great at repressing anything. He’d taken his first psychology course to earn early college credit during his junior year of high school. When he’d heard about hiding problems under a metaphoric rug in his brain, he was the only one in class who couldn’t relate. Nate was always too busy sweeping out the dust to let anything hide.