To Love A Hitman

by Randell Mccreary

  Mister Jacob leans in close to me and I kiss his lips softly. Then I turn to Mister Christian and kiss him as well. We go back inside the house and I serve up the soup. We sit around the table and they tell me about their time in town.

  Mister Christian tells me about the new fabrics that they got in the stores. People are going crazy for them and making all sorts of new, fancy clothing out of it. Then he pulls a small parcel from his pocket and slides it across the table for me.

  I take the parcel and open it up. It is a small canister of hair oils which makes me smile. It has been a long time since I have taken the cornrows out of my hair that I don’t even remember how long it is now.

  Then Mister Jacob tells me about a bunch of new books that were brought in from all across the country. He picked up a few and looks forward to reading them with me. He sets the three new books on the table and I look at them, getting more and more excited.

  Supper is done and I take the dishes into the kitchen. Mister Jacob comes up behind me and kisses the back of my neck.

  “What makes you not want to choose between us?” he asks.

  I turn to look at him and kiss his cheek. “You’re both so diff’rent and bein’ with both of you is completely fulfilling. With you I can learn and talk. With Mister Christian, well…” My cheeks get hot and it seems that Mister Jacob notices.

  He chuckles and places his hand on my cheek. “I know what you’re trying to say.”

  I nod then continue. “I don’t think that Mister Christian would be good at the books like you are. And I don’t know how you would be at the… well… um… that.”

  Mister Jacob chuckles again and pats me on the back. “Is that all?”

  I shake my head, kiss him on the cheek, and go back to the table where Mister Christian is still sitting. Mister Jacob follows me into the room and grabs the stack of books. He pats my shoulder then goes back to his room knowing that I will tell him the rest when I am ready.

  I sit down on the table next to Mister Christian. He looks over at me and smiles. Then he stands and hugs me tight. He lifts me off of the table and takes me to his room.

  Once we get there he lies me down in his bed and kisses me softly. His beard tickles me and makes me laugh. We slowly undress each other. I am much thinner than he is but that doesn’t seem to matter when we are like this. Although I guess it makes it easier for him to move me into any position he wants.

  We have a wonderful night of passion together. He explores my body and I explore his. There is an unspoken connection between us that seems to bring forth a new flame in each of us. After an hour or two of our fun we lay there in each other’s arms.

  I roll over so that I am lying on top of him and kiss him passionately. More so than my normal kisses. When I pull away he is looking up at me with an almost confused look on his face. He caresses my cheek and the look on his face is asking me what is going on inside my head.

  “Mister Christian,” I begin, “Thank you for takin’ me from where I was.”

  He nods, his way of saying ‘You’re welcome’ without ever saying a word. He continues to look up at me as though saying ‘Go on’.

  My lips quiver as I try to say it. I am not sure how to really. I have never said it to anyone. I know how I feel but I can’t figure out how to bring it to the surface. He watches me as I try to bring the words into focus.

  There is a sudden knock on his door and I slide off of him, against the wall. He makes a sort of grunt that signals that Mister Jacob can enter the room. The door opens and Mister Jacob stifles a laugh. I hide my face in the pillow and Mister Christian seems to have no shame.

  Mister Jacob comes right in and sits down on the bed with us. He seems to have something on his mind but the sight of us naked in bed gave him pause for a moment. Mister Christian sits up and nudges his brother in the arm. I sit up as well, looking between them wondering who is going to speak first.

  I reach out to hold their hands with mine. They both look over at me, Mister Jacob with his usual smile and Mister Christian with his usual stone expression but soft eyes. They wait for me to be able to speak.

  “I love you.” I did it. I managed to bring it to the surface. After saying it I feel there is an immense weight lifted off my shoulders.

  They seem a bit shocked and exchange a glance.

  “Which of us is the ‘you’?” Mister Jacob asks.

  I look at him then at Mister Christian. “Both of you.”

  They exchange another glance then hug me tight between them. Then I hear them both say it back to me. Tears of joy come to my eyes as they hug me. I know that I am in the best place possible.

  I Want Her Boyfriend

  ~ Bonus Story ~

  A First Time, Straight To Gay Romance

  My dream was to open a bar. I didn’t expect to be swept up by the local baker.

  When I move into a small town, ready to renovate a property and open up a themed bar, I know I don’t have much information about the people who live there.

  I need local knowledge. I try the baker’s shop, a short walk away from my property. I meet two people there. A pretty girl called Hillary. And a gorgeous, breath-taking man called Jake.

  I felt like I’d been struck by thunder when I saw him. I never wanted to take my eyes off him. My imagination got worse as I kept looking at him.

  And I kept making excuses to go into that shop and see him. Kept dreaming about him at night. He affects me in a way no one else has ever managed before.

  The only issue is – Hillary’s his girlfriend.

  * * *

  Chapter One

  I've just recently moved to Wisinin in North Carolina. Still trying to get to know the place, even though I brought up a small street property, fully intending to turn it into a bar. I guess I was lucky with this. My parents are quite well off – not wealthy, but good enough to be able to secure me some cash to move out with. That, along with the loan I took from the bank, allowed me to finally buy something of my own. I intend for it to be a bar, but to know what kind of bar I should aim for, I need to know what the population's like.

  The bar, after all, will be themed on that demographic. I've always wanted to have one, ever since I was little. I'd look at all the different themes that existed, from authentic Irish pubs, to night-club bars, to gaming bars with computers. I even considered a Harry Potter themed bar at one point, though that's probably a little too niche for the types of customers I'll need to attract.

  My phone rings, and I sigh. It's my mom, checking in to see how I'm doing. I stand at the corner of the street I'm walking down, with little streetlights, and a thing two lane road. I answer the call. “Hey, mom.”

  “Andrew!” She exclaims. “How's it going? How's the bar? You got customers yet?”

  “Mom, I still need to set it up. I only bought the property, it still doesn't look like a bar.”

  “Oh. Well, you tell me when it's done and I'll come pay a visit with your father!”

  I smile. “I'd like that.”

  “Are you eating okay? I know you're not a good cook.”

  “Mom. I'm fine.”

  “Remember, you're a Higgins. Cooking should be in your blood. Like your famous cousin who is on the cook shows.”

  “Mom...”

  “Love you baby. Take care!”

  I send her my love as well, and end the call, rolling my eyes in the process. Sometimes my mom can be a little... unbearable. She means well, but she does have that way of trying to remind me subtly that I'm an anomaly of the family. Mom and dad both cook well, and own a restaurant together, but that didn't stop me from being terrible at cooking. Sure, I enjoyed the foods I grew up with, but they were also quite busy parents.

  Maybe I'm just lacking part of the Higgins family gene. At least I take after my mother, though. I have her green eyes and her red hair, though I borrowed my father's square jawline. I might have borrowed his muscle structure too, since I'm probably just above average height, and have a lean runner's bu
ild. Without doing much running on my part.

  A couple of my buddies promised they'd consider working for me when I got the place up and running – and they'll be here in a few days to help me renovate, since they're in the construction and carpeting businesses. Sometimes it pays to know the right people.

  I continue roaming around, my trainers squeaking on the pavement. I kick an empty cola can onto the road, before bending to pick it up, and toss it in one of the trashcans. I check the types of shops here, and look at the percentage of young and old people. Depending on the age will depend on the types of special evenings I'd go for, like karaoke or a quiz evening. Always pays to know your audience.

  I notice that there's actually quite a lot of young business owners in the area. Not as young as me, but they're mostly hovering around the age thirty mark. Perhaps I can do masquerade evenings, or even just chill out and quiet times. I think that will be the kind of audience I can go for. It's a good place, and I'm starting to look forward to being able to see these people outside their shops and in my bar. There's not many bars in this town at all, so I'm convinced that I'm filling in a needed spot for people. After all, two bars aren’t enough for a population of five thousand or so. And mine should be able to accommodate one hundred or so when I'm done with it, as it's surprisingly spacious, and I plan to convert the basement, and live on the second floor.

  My last stop is the local bakery – and I see that there's a few people in here already, lining up to buy bread or cakes or warm pastry rolls. The smell entices me, and my stomach gives a little grumble, so I stay and decide I'm going to have one of those chocolate croissants to eat.

  The person serving behind the counter is a young girl, quite pretty, actually, with dark hair and dark eyes, and she has a charming smile for her customers. One even tries to flirt with her, which she takes in good nature. I feel more confident. Yes, she looks like she can help me.

  When it's my turn to be served, I go straight to the introduction after I ask for the croissant. “Hey, my name's Andrew Higgins. I'm new in town, and I'm planning to open a bar in a few weeks.”

  “Oh? It's you who bought that old place?” The girl puckers her lips as she regards me. She reached for the croissant with tongs. “You're quite young to be a business owner.”

  “So is a lot of people here,” I reply smoothly. “Since I'm not familiar with the area, I was hoping maybe I could find some friendly locals to ask me around. Maybe even have a deal with your bakery for me to sell some of your goods in the bar, though that will come later. Everything smells delicious.”

  “Oh, it is. We work hard.” The girl gives me a winning smile. Then she raises her eyebrow at another customer waiting to line up. “I'm Hillary. If you want, I'd be glad to help you out, we can do with a new bar. But... come back in an hour. It's a busy time for us.”

  I nod. “Sure! No problem. Thanks, Hillary. I'll see you in an hour, yeah?” I confirm, just as I hand over two dollars. She gives me fifty cents in change.

  “Sure. See you then, Higgins.”

  She's already using my surname. People seem to prefer my surname to my actual name. I never know why. I'm buoyed up and positive that I finally got some help, and I have that adrenaline coursing inside me, from the excitement of talking to a stranger, and the interaction going well. There's a certain thrill about that, I find. Strangers are always a kind of risk scenario. You never know what you're going to get from them.

  I leave the shop as she turns to serve what's now the next four customers in line, including a woman with a raucous child. The bakery looks clean and glistening, like a tiny fairy-tale place in the middle of a stone gray pile of bricks that resembles the town. No wonder people are so attracted into coming here. The woman clearly knows how to charm as well, happily recommending the different kinds of bakes when asked.

  I think it'll be nice to go back and talk with her. For a moment, though, I consider my last girlfriend. She left me about five months ago, saying I just wasn't passionate enough. I didn't understand. I did everything I should have done. I brought flowers, took her out to nice places and all that. The only issue was, I couldn't get it up in the bedroom. At first she was patient and understanding, but then she started getting frustrated when it continued to happen. She even asked what porn I watched, and I admitted I didn't really spend that much time with porn, so it wasn't a result of porn addiction.

  Awkwardly, because I couldn't get it up, she was disappointed enough with me to not encourage any other acts. So my virginity is still intact, even though I technically came close to losing it twice – and failing miserably both times. And, without any sex in the relationship, it quickly fizzled out. She broke up with me in a temper, saying I acted like a boyfriend because it was what was expected of me. Not because I actually wanted to be a boyfriend, or loved her. If I'd truly cared, I would have done something to fix my erectile dysfunction. She pinned an awful lot of blame on me, even though I had suggested oral sex.

  And she told me she didn't want oral sex until we did the “proper” sex.

  It annoyed me at the time to hear that from her lips. Five months later, I admit she's probably right. I just don't feel inclined to have sex with every girl I meet, or fantasize about them. And when I masturbate, even I do that mechanically, because a guy's dick needs some good stimulus. Sure it helps to envision something in my head as well, but I can just picture the end event, what the orgasm will feel like, to help get off. I picture it quite well.

  I've tried picturing women before and it kind of works, but it's easier for me to just get off without that distraction.

  Guess I'm an odd one, then.

  When I come back an hour later – well, one hour, ten minutes later, the woman is no longer standing behind the counter. Instead, I see a guy there.

  The second I lock eyes with him, my green to his icy blue, a strange feeling coats my heart and brain. It's like, uh, honey melting over both organs. The breath catches in my throat for a moment.

  Because damn, this guy is handsome. Black haired, blue eyed, with a curved jawline, a long, straight nose with a narrow bridge. A dark shadow on the hoods of his eyes which gives him a lazy expression, like he's already tired of all the shit he hears every day. There's something quite... mesmerizing about those eyes, and the way his eyelashes flick out, since I'm now close enough to see.

  I'm not sure why I'm so fascinated by him. I've never had these kinds of thoughts before. I want to see him from all sides, not just the front, so I can look at how perfect he is.

  His eyes flick to my red head, and he smiles. He has the most shining smile I've ever seen, and it's been a long time since I've witnessed a smile transform both the lips and the eyes. The eyes themselves seem to sparkle.

  Wow. I did not expect to react like this. Hopefully I don't look like some gormless idiot, staring with vapid eyes, and some drool coming from the corner of my mouth.

  I subconsciously wipe my mouth at this thought, before clearing my throat, and breaking the spell.

  “Hey. I'm Andrew Higgins. I arranged to speak to the girl here, uh, Hillary, just to get some information about the town. I'm new here.”

  The male baker says, “Well, that's a coincidence, she just mentioned you. Let's close up this shift so we can have the talk with you.”

  I smile shyly, and thank him for his kindness. All the while, my brain keeps screaming just how fucking handsome he is. I can't comprehend it. I felt asleep before, even though I didn't realize it. I felt asleep, and seeing him standing there has shocked me into full alert. I can sense every breath that slips out of my lips. My muscles are tight, my stomach has this squirming inside it. I can even grimace at the way my toes press against my socks and trainers, slightly uncomfortable, so I stretch my toes as best as able. Because I'm aware, I start swallowing my own saliva, nervous, because my mouth's drying up fast.

  The woman finally comes out, saying, “Okay Jake, so I finished with the machines out back, they're all set on auto clean. I've sent off the
orders for tomorrow, too. And hello,” she says, now shifting her dark eyes to me. I wave.

  A hello is exchanged.

  They finish with the last of the chores they need to do, and I sit down on the long couch they have on the side of the counter, perhaps to wait for longer to bake orders. Both the man and woman wear matching clothes – white shirts with black pants, and they also focused on wearing hairnets when handling most of the food. Without the hairnets, the girl's dark hair flops down just past her shoulders, and as for Jake, well – he has muddy hair. I'm unsure what color it's supposed to be, because it's sort of dark, but it's not brown. It's almost... gray in a sense, but though the roots are darker, the ends are lighter. Dark blonde? Muddy blonde? Is that a thing?

  “So, what is it you want to know?” The woman starts off with the question, and I find myself blabbing, “Well, just whatever you can think of. What type of people live in this town, what's popular here. I just need to get a feel for the place so I know how I want to theme my bar.”

  “Oh! Sure thing. Jake will be happy to help out I'm sure, too.”

  “Yes,” Jake says, his blue eyes firmly locked upon mine. I feel naked under that gaze, for some reason. Even as Hillary explains to me about the town, with all of it being relevant and useful information, my attention and eyes keep drifting back to Jake, and his strong, broad shoulders. His noble cheekbones, his sweetly curved face. Those heavy eyes, light blue, prominent, and utterly addictive.