by Jerry Cole
Brent sighed, stroking his own hands through Marc’s hair. He didn’t do it often enough, but loved the look that appeared on Marc’s face, a soft and careful look, tentative about appreciating the caresses. “I love you, you know that?”
“I know,” Marc said, his voice low. “You tell me a lot.”
“Good,” Brent said decisively. “You deserve to hear it.”
Marc breathed out slowly, staring down at Brent with wide eyes.
“Listen to me,” Brent said, curling a hand in Marc’s sleep shirt and keeping him in place. “All I want is for you to be happy. You’ve been through so much,” Brent’s voice hitched, “and I just want you to smile a lot.”
Closing his eyes, Marc pressed a hard, close-mouthed kiss to Brent’s lips that turned hot and dirty quickly. There was enough time for them to have sex if they wanted to, and while Marc was making a valiant attempt to kiss Brent stupid, he wasn’t taking it any further. Brent liked making out as much as anything and shifted his hands to the back of Marc’s shirt, holding on just as tightly as he had the front.
Marc’s tongue thrust into Brent’s mouth, a mimicry of sex, and he shifted his hips, aligning their dicks in a way that had Brent arching up against him. Brent could feel his dick hardening, and pulled back a fraction, not wanting it to be over too soon.
“All right?” Marc asked, kissing the corner of Brent’s mouth, beneath his eye.
“Make out with me,” Brent said, breathless and low, nuzzling at Marc’s face and catching his lips in another kiss. “I don’t want—I don’t want anything else, just your mouth.”
“All right.” Marc sounded affable for someone with so much heat in their eyes, and Brent could drown in it so, so easily.
Brent’s lips were kiss-swollen and numb by the time they parted, slick with spit, Marc’s hips rolling in gentle, sweeping motions against his dick. There was a comfortable heat pooling in Brent’s belly, and he would probably have to take himself in hand in the shower if they didn’t decide to progress to orgasms. Marc had a look on his face that promised all kinds of fun, but Brent dragged him back down for another kiss, eyes closed and body thrumming with bliss. He’d wait for the alarm to go off on his phone before deciding.
“As fun as this is,” Marc said, biting at Brent’s bottom lip and nipping at the skin of his jaw. “You should go clean up your apartment.”
Brent sighed, dropping his hands to the bed, incredulous. “Seriously? I’m trying to set a mood here and you’re talking about laundry?”
“No,” Marc said, lips lifting into a smirk. He planted a kiss to Brent’s nose and then rolled over, stretching against the sheets. Despite his irritation, Brent watched the muscles shift as he did so and decided his fantasies of Marc’s in the shower were going to be amazing. Marc turned his head, still smirking, and giving Brent a knowing look. “I’m talking about the takeout cartons and shit all over the floor.”
Sighing dramatically, Brent scratched at his hair, digging his legs into the mattress as he stretched, stifling a grin at the heat in Marc’s gaze when he met it slowly. “I guess we should get out of bed, then.”
It took them another fifteen minutes and a wonderful orgasm to move, and though Brent wanted to climb into the shower with Marc for another orgasm, Marc shut him out of the bathroom with a laugh, and Brent tugged on yesterday’s sweatpants and moved into the kitchen to feed the dogs.
Though he’d shut off his alarm, Brent kept his phone in his pocket, and with both Juliette and Stanley eating from each other’s bowls, he thumbed through to his dad’s message, reluctantly listening to it.
“Brent. I know you’re still angry at me, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I know it’s not until tomorrow, but I figured you’d be busy with your sisters and, well, with your mother, so I’m getting it in early. I hope you’re happy. Maybe we can talk soon, if you wanted. I know I haven’t been the best father, but I—”
Brent cut off the message, tossing his phone on the counter and rubbing at his forehead. He didn’t want to hear his father’s excuses for being a dick to them all as kids. It was much safer to avoid him, even with as badly as he wanted to scream to everybody about Marc.
“Bathroom’s free!” Marc yelled.
Unclenching his hands and padding back through to the bedroom, Brent put all thoughts of his father out of his head. He had better things to focus on, and soon Brent’s family were going to be filling up all the quiet spaces in his and Marc’s lives, and Brent couldn’t wait.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“There they are,” Brent said unnecessarily.
“I have seen pictures of them,” Marc pointed a beat later, an arm still around Brent’s shoulders, even with Brent’s crazy waving. Brent snorted, staring up at him and pinching his side.
“Whatever, shut up.”
Marc grinned and was still doing so when Brent caught sight of Polly and Rachel, heads bent as they stared right at Marc, probably talking about him already. Fucking gossips.
Before she was upon them, Brent’s mom had her arms open wide, and Marc took a respectful step back, leaving Brent to be swept up into a mama hug. He squeezed her back tightly, closing his eyes as she let out something close to a sob.
“Brent,” she said, stepping back and holding his face in her hands. “I hope Chicago is treating you well.”
Brent rolled his eyes, batting her hands away. “Mom, I’m almost thirty.”
“Barely twenty-five,” his mom scoffed, turning her attention on Marc. He was stock still, standing at ease like he was still in the military, and Brent wanted to tell him to loosen up. His mom was already talking, eyes soft at the edges and Brent’s heart skipped. “You must be Mike.”
“Marc,” Marc corrected, shooting a panicked look at Brent before Brent’s mom was hugging him too. Brent bit back on a request for her to not, worried it would be too much for Marc, but Marc’s arms instantly came up to hold her, eyes meeting Brent’s slowly. He was shocked, Brent could tell, but there was gratitude and a hint of pain in there as well. Brent really, really hated Marc’s parents.
“Well, Marc,” Polly said, putting emphasis on Marc’s name. “It’s nice to meet you. I feel like we could have done it sooner.”
Marc raised his eyebrows, and their one-armed hug was awkward and had Brent smothering a smile behind his hand. “You’re the sister that helped Brent move in.”
“She’s the only one of us with a car,” Rachel said pointedly, and just gave Marc a wave. She wasn’t big on hugs, barely accepting them from Brent.
By contrast, Jack was usually enthusiastic and throwing her arms around everybody. Today, she seemed more withdrawn, and stood stiff in Brent’s arms when he hugged her.
“All right?” He asked, frowning down at her.
“Peachy,” Jack snapped, and Brent stepped back, holding up his hands.
“She’s fine,” Brent’s mom said, a warning in her tone, and Jack sighed, waving her off. Marc looked quizzically between them and Brent waved him off, knowing better than to get involved when Jack wasn’t happy.
“You must be Jack,” Marc said, either ignoring Brent’s look or disregarding it.
Jack raised her eyebrows. “Clever, isn’t he?” She addressed Brent, a sneer on her face.
“Fuck off, Jack,” Brent snapped immediately.
Marc shrugged, lips curved into a smile which, what the fuck? “Kinda have to be to be a Marine.”
Brent jerked in surprise. It was the first time Marc had told him what branch he’d been in—though he presumed either Army or Air Force—but he managed to keep it under wraps. Jack couldn’t, her eyes widening and lips parting. Brent assumed it had as much to do with Marc’s response as to his military service.
“Thank you for your service,” Brent’s mom said immediately, one hand on Marc’s arm.
Marc nodded jerkily, looking a little uncomfortable. Jack’s face smoothed out into something close to a welcome, however, so Brent thanked Marc silently. He didn’t know w
hat was up with his sister, but hopefully she’d snap out of it by the time they went to bed.
Rachel bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands together. “When’s Amanda getting here?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t texted her,” Brent said. “You’d know better than I would.”
“Don’t be bitter,” Marc said, once again sliding his arm over Brent’s shoulders and tugging him in closer. “It’s not your fault she likes your family better.”
“Hey,” Brent protested, poking Marc in the side. His sisters and mom were laughing, so Brent couldn’t be too mad. “You’re lucky I love you, asshole.”
Marc’s grin was smooth and effortless. He didn’t bat an eye at Brent’s declaration, and neither did his mom. Jack and Rachel looked stunned, but it was the knowing glint in Polly’s eye that brought him up short. Brent deliberately ignored her, knowing he would no doubt be cornered when she had the chance. He slipped his hand into the back pocket of Marc’s jeans.
“We should load up your poor car,” Brent said.
“Is there enough room?” Brent’s mom asked, taking a hold of her suitcase.
“I’m getting the train back,” Brent explained. “Marc will drop you off at the hotel.”
“Brent and I will get the train back,” Polly said, barreling over everyone else who had something to say about it. “That way, Mom can bond with Marc, and Rachel and Jack can argue about who shares the double with Mom at the hotel.”
Jack and Rachel were already doing that, Brent thought, as they headed for the exit. Brent rolled his eyes and let Marc lead him out to the car. The last thing Brent wanted to do was deal with Polly for an hour, but now that she had made the plan, he wasn’t going to get out of it. Unless Marc didn’t want to get involved, of course.
“You gonna be all right without me?”
Marc rolled his eyes, which Brent thought was a bit rich coming from someone who was only just starting to get used to having people around him again. “I’ll be fine, Brent. It’s not that long.” There was a pause, and Brent could feel the flush rising on his cheeks, and he tapped his fingers against Marc’s hip distractedly. “Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to go with Polly?”
Brent shrugged, trying—and failing— to look nonchalant. “Not really.”
“Sure.” Marc looked disbelieving, but Brent wasn’t about to admit to his childish need to not be around Polly right now. Especially because he’d kept quiet about Marc, something he didn’t want to bring up. Having Marc think Brent had wanted to hide him was unacceptable.
“I’ll be fine,” Brent said, keeping his tone more even.
Marc gave him a long look and then nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever he found on Brent’s face. “I’ll see you back at the apartment.”
“Yours or mine?” Brent asked, leaning in for a quick kiss. He didn’t care his family was watching.
Apparently, Marc didn’t either because he drew out the kiss, kept is slow and soft. “Yours. It’s not like I don’t know my way around.”
“You’ll need these,” Brent said, shoving his keys into Marc’s hand. It crossed his mind to make a copy of the key and give it to Marc but forced himself to slow down. That was definitely a few months down the line, he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance they had by proposing the sharing of apartment keys. God, Brent’s head was a mess. “I’ll see you later.”
Marc stared down at the keys, lips twitching, and it was only thanks to Polly looping her arm through Brent’s that Brent moved at all.
“Come on, Brent.” Polly sounded amused. “Let’s catch that train.”
Brent allowed himself to be pulled away and resigned himself to an hour of grilling. “You know I could have done this alone, right?”
“You kept him a secret,” Polly said immediately, dropping her arm and rooting around in her purse. Brent didn’t want to know what she had in there. Catching him looking, Polly rolled her eyes. “I’m just looking for cash, Brent, relax.”
“Whatever. I kept him a secret for good reason,” Brent pointed out, tugging his pass from his back pocket.
Polly waited until they were both seated in the train and watching it pull out of the station before she started speaking again. “He’s hot, I’ll give you that.”
Brent snorted out a laugh. “That’s definitely not something I’m gonna argue with.”
“But,” Polly continued, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know why you felt the need to hide him. He looks fine.”
“Yeah,” Brent sighed. He rubbed at the back of his head, looking around the train car. It was busy, thanks to the hour of the day, but it was quiet enough around them Brent could talk without people overhearing. Not that anyone could possibly know Marc, but the sentiment was the same. “He might look fine, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay. Would you say the same about Jack?”
Polly’s expression shifted into something apologetic. “He has anxiety?”
Brent sighed. “It’s not my shit to talk about, Polly, but yeah, he has mental health issues he’s dealing with.”
“That you’re both dealing with?” Polly asked gently. “Being in a relationship means you’re both dealing with it.”
“I just have to make sure he’s all right,” Brent said with a shrug. “Marc’s the one it’s happening to.”
Polly opened her mouth like she had something else to say, but she wisely kept it shut, and fiddled with the handles of her bag. Brent felt the awkwardness settle over them and wanted to break it.
“Anything else you want to talk about?”
“No,” Brent said, with a wry smile. “Nothing I want to talk about, but that doesn’t mean you’re not gonna find a subject you wanna interrogate me about.”
“I don’t interrogate,” Polly protested, leaning in to Brent and shoving at his shoulder. “I simply inquire as to my brother’s love life.”
Brent knew he looked unimpressed. “I think I’ll stick with interrogate.”
Polly laughed, spinning her phone through her fingers. “You’re happy though?”
There was something intense in Polly’s expression and Brent’s mouth clacked shut audibly on a quip. Taking the question seriously, Brent let his mouth curve into an honest smile, thinking of Marc and everything he made him feel. “Yeah, I’m happy.”
“Then,” Polly said decisively. “That’s all that matters.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
When the door to Brent’s apartment swung open, a yell echoing down the hall, Brent rubbed at his face, Juliette immediately sprinting toward the voice. She had been going nuts ever since Brent’s family arrived that morning, too many playmates to decide who she wanted most of all. Any hope Brent had of her calming down was shot when she came barreling back into the room, tearing around the living room in circles.
“Christ,” he muttered.
Amanda stood in the doorway, grinning, holding out her arms. “My best ladies!”
Polly and Rachel were immediately on her, the three of them exchanging noises Brent was sure shouldn’t be within the human decibel range, and waved awkwardly at Brandon, who was stuck out in the hallway.
“I’ll go get Marc,” Brandon said, smirking over Amanda’s shoulder, before turning on his heel.
Thankfully, Marc had decided to only come over once Amanda arrived, though he no doubt had a front row seat to the noise and chaos that had been happening in Brent’s apartment.
“I’m gonna make drinks,” Brent said, barging his way past Amanda and his sisters—who were still talking animatedly in the doorway—and hid in the kitchen for the next ten minutes, sorting out the drinks he bought the day before. Marc had tried to stop him, adamant he shouldn’t be the one planning his own birthday get together, but Brent had shrugged it off and bought them.
The door to his apartment opened again and Juliette was back in the hall, this time barking happily as Stanley trotted inside at a sedate pace. Brent poked his head around the door and smiled warmly when Marc caught h
is eye, sliding up next to him and curling a hand around the back of Brent’s neck. It was clearly a signature move, and Brent couldn’t deny he loved the feel of it, the fact Marc’s hand was big enough to make the whole back of his neck feel warm.
“Happy birthday,” Marc said, kissing Brent.
Brent’s hand dropped to Marc’s chest unconsciously, clenching into the fabric. “Thanks. All right?”
“Seems loud in here,” Marc said with a smile. Brent searched his face, aware Marc had promised he’d say something if he was uncomfortable. He didn’t see anything that betrayed Marc’s apprehension.
“That’s my sisters for you,” Brent said, loud enough that they all called his name with varying levels of anger. “Love you!”
Marc laughed gently, keeping an arm around Brent’s waist as they left the kitchen, waving Brandon on ahead. He sighed, as if they somehow kept up the PDA around him. Brent smirked at the back of his head as they filed into the living room, where Brent’s mom was currently trying to find some decent music on Brent’s tablet.
“I only listen to decent music,” Brent protested.
“Sure,” Marc said, grinning, even as he held up his hands against Brent’s playful punch. “It’s not my fault you’re a child of the pop era.”
“So are you,” Brent pointed out, refusing to drop his scowl. Honestly, he was being bullied and it was unacceptable. “My music choices are excellent.”
“Sorry, Brent,” Amanda chimed in, “but they’re really not.”
The room delved into a commentary on Brent’s music choices and how terrible they were—or weren’t—but Brent ignored them as best he was able. Thankfully, the topic changed fairly quickly, and Brent found himself on the couch, squeezed between Jack and Polly, with everyone else scattered around the room.
Brent kept one eye on Marc, the only reason he was the first person aware of what was happening with him. He noted the hitch in Marc’s breathing, the way his hands clenched into fists. Brent wanted to kick himself for not being stronger in the face of Marc’s assurances.
