But the man he cared about—the man he loved—more than anyone in the damn world beside his grandmother, was gonna turn into a stranger if they didn’t clear the fucking air.
So he considered everything he hadn’t let himself really think about and blurted out every single one. “When Sahara was with us, we were playing. It was a game, and we both knew the rules. I don’t know the rules anymore, Shawn. I—”
“Don’t call me that.” Pisch flattened his hands against Ian’s chest and shoved. “And you might be a fucking caveman, but you manhandle me in my goddamn house again and it will be the last time you ever set foot past the door.”
Well shit. Nodding slowly, Ian backed away a bit more, giving Pisch some space. He’d gone and fucked up again. He hadn’t meant anything bad by grabbing the man, but maybe he should be more careful.
He dropped his gaze, staring at the barbwire again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. And I think I get where you’re coming from.” Pisch grabbed another two beers from the still open fridge and motioned for Ian to follow him to the kitchen table. He sat, waiting for Ian to join him, a relaxed smile sliding across his lips. “You’re not into guys, but you like all the things I do to you. And I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t warn you, you might start thinking there’s more between us because all the feeling good hits the right triggers.”
Maybe he’s right. But… “What’s that do to us being friends?”
“Absolutely nothing unless you let it.”
“Unless I—” No, Pisch was right. He was the one who’d gone all cold after they’d joined the mile-high-club and then almost died when the plane forgot how to fucking fly right. He’d figured out that much, which was why he’d given Pisch the comic book.
The best way he could think of to tell Pisch he was sorry without leaving any doubt that he meant it.
He shook his head, picking up his beer and taking a sip so he could consider his words carefully. “I love you, man.”
“I know. And I love you too.” The way Pisch said those three words was no different than him agreeing that Iron Man rocked. Or ACDC playing over and over on a road trip was an awesome idea. No big impact on life, they were on the same page.
One full of words that wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
Taking a deep breath, Ian ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “So where do we go from here?”
“That depends. You sure you didn’t come here to get laid?” Pisch arched a brow then sighed when Ian shook his head again. “A shame. But we can chill with a movie or something. Two days, no practice; I’ve got plenty of time to seduce you.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “You hit a dry spell or something? Jesus, Pisch, go take a cold shower.”
“Why should I? You’re here, and you’re being rather difficult, which is damn sexy. I like a bit of a challenge.” Pisch gave him a half smile over the lip of his beer. “Wanna bet I can put on your favorite movie and get you too distracted to watch it before the opening credits are done?”
“No, I’m good.” Actually, Ian had never been less turned on in his life. Whatever had been between him and Pisch the times they’d fooled around was gone. And he wasn’t sure why. “Can I ask you something as a friend, and not a fuck buddy or whatever you’ve decided I am now?”
Pischlar winced, inhaling sharply. “Bruiser, I’m not trying to—”
“Just answer the damn question, Shawn.”
Eyes narrowed, Pisch inclined his head.
“Do I get the talk?”
The edges of Pisch lips quirked up. “White, I will still train you if you want me to. I will suck your dick—hell, I’d be doing it now if you weren’t giving off ‘don’t fucking touch me’ signals.”
Tightening his grip on his beer bottle, Ian held Pischlar’s amused gaze. He didn’t move as Pisch came closer, close enough that the heat of his lips slid over Ian’s.
He brushed his cheek against Ian’s, speaking softly in his ear. “But you can’t keep me.”
This game wasn’t one Shawn wanted to play with White. Probably wasn’t one he should play. But the second he’d met White’s eyes and caught the man looking at him that way…
A few guys and girls had looked at him like that before. Like he was a man they could fall in love with. That they were falling in love with. And he’d escaped every time without anyone getting hurt.
Too badly, anyway.
White had the advantage because Shawn had started falling for him a long time ago, but his reaction after they’d fucked had set off alarm bells Shawn promised himself a long time ago he’d never ignore again.
They could have great sex. Figure out how to hold on to their friendship. But if they tread down that muddy path toward an actual relationship, White would destroy him.
White was a good man. He cared about people, probably more than he should, but he wasn’t built to balance in the middle of the spectrum for long. He was only twenty-seven years old, and one day he’d want a wife and kids. All kinds of normal.
As his friend, Shawn would make sure White got everything he could ever want. Now, and in the future.
What if you’re wrong? What if White doesn’t want all you’ve planned out for him? What if he really wants you?
There was no doubt that White wanted him. At the moment. Shawn was pretty impressed the man managed to front like he had no interest in getting off, but White was very responsive. The right touch would shut down all his objections, and he’d be fucking putty in Shawn’s hands.
If they weren’t teammates, weren’t as close as brothers—which was pretty twisted, considering how often he thought about sliding his lips over the man’s dick again—he’d use every trick he’d honed on those who meant nothing to him.
Instead, he made some popcorn and joined White on the couch, laughing at White’s scowl when he stole the remote. He put on one of White’s top ten favorite comic book movies, The Incredible Hulk. The newer one. White loved every comic book movie ever made, even the ones that tanked at the box office, but this one always got his full attention. He seemed to relate to the unstable hero.
Yet another reason Shawn had to keep him at arm’s length.
“Not so rough, Steve. That fucking hurts.” Shawn’s head hit the edge of his bathroom sink as his boyfriend slammed into him, his fingers digging into his hips. “Slow down. Why the fucking rush?”
“My girlfriend’s waiting for me, scheisskopf.” Steve rammed in one last time with a loud groan—one loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but thankfully, no one was home. He pulled away, the sudden loss of support dropping Shawn to his knees. “I told you this would be quick. You’re not gonna be a total fag and cry about it, are you?”
“No.” Shawn dragged himself to his feet as Steve headed to his bedroom to get his clothes. He stepped gingerly into the room, his whole body aching. And not in a good way. “And you don’t get to call me a fag like you aren’t one, arschgesicht. I might be the only one who knows, but—”
Steve closed the distance between them in three short strides, grabbing Shawn by the throat and holding him against the wall. “But what? You know that if you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you, right?”
“You know I won’t.”
“Then don’t talk shit.” Steve loosened his grip, smiling abruptly. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” Shawn rubbed his throat even as Steve kissed him. The other boy was the biggest, hottest, and most popular, jock in their high school. He got why Steve was so paranoid, but he hated it when he got mean and violent.
Things would be different after they graduated though. Steve didn’t want to play football anymore. He was doing it for his dad now, but he wanted to be a doctor. And once he graduated medical school, he wouldn’t give a shit what anyone thought about the two of them together.
Shawn just had to be patient.
And Shawn had been very, very patient. Put up with more bruises than he could count. Not that Steve had been abusive, rea
lly, but the one time Shawn had slipped up about their relationship in front of the other players…
Well, that hadn’t been the first or last beating Shawn had gotten, but it was the one he’d finally learned from. He didn’t just get off on control, he needed it. When he shared with another Dom he trusted, he could relax his hold a little, but never with a sub who had a hair trigger that could snap without warning.
He trusted White, so he didn’t mind training him, but even in that, he’d have to set some very clear limits. If he planned to push White close to the edge, he’d likely restrain him.
If he let White in any deeper, he wouldn’t have that kind of control.
Are you afraid of him?
Shawn’s lips tightened at the thought. No, he wasn’t afraid of White. But the man had gotten physical with friends in the past. He’d gotten physical with Shawn in the kitchen. Something he would never do with a woman.
The man would make a good boyfriend, maybe even a good husband one day. To a woman he would treat gently, who he could protect with all those fierce instincts that were fucking sexy and terrifying all at once.
Yeah, you got issues, man.
True. Issues he was well aware of and had a handle on. Enough of one to avoid diving in deep enough to drown. He could wade into the wild current of passion with White. But he wasn’t reckless enough to let himself be dragged in all the way.
That settled, he let himself relax and admired the broad physique of his best friend. White was still wearing far too many clothes, but even in a T-shirt, he was a damn fine sight. Big muscles, a strong jaw, and warm blue eyes that didn’t hide a thing. They were crystal clear windows to his soul.
Windows revealing pure confusion when he glanced over and caught Shawn staring at him.
“Shawn?”
Fuck, he doesn’t listen, does he? Shawn arched a brow, leaned forward, dropping one hand over White’s crotch to squeeze him through his jeans. “What did I tell you about calling me that?”
White’s lips parted. He began to pant as Shawn rubbed his swelling cock through his faded blue jeans. His eyes drifted shut. “Shit. I’m sorry, Pisch.”
“You’re forgiven.” Shawn shifted closer to White, brushing his lips up the side of his throat as White tipped his head back. “You into the movie?”
Shaking his head, then nodding, White groaned. “I…” He hesitated. Then opened his eyes and latched on to Shawn’s wrist. “Kiss me.”
Shawn blinked. He always remembered the hard limits of his subs. Fine, White wasn’t exactly his sub, but if he trained the man, he would fall into the same category. White didn’t kiss his casual flings. Shawn had teased him about how ‘Pretty Woman’ that was, but he was curious how the man had avoided kissing the many puck bunnies he fooled around with.
Of course, if they had their lips around his dick, or his mouth on their cunt, they probably didn’t notice he was avoiding anything too intimate.
Which meant that was what White wanted from Shawn. Something more intimate.
He was a simple man, so he might think he wanted that now, but with the right distraction, he’d forget all about it. Shawn pulled his wrist free and snagged the button of White’s jeans. “Kiss you where?”
“Fuck this shit.” White pushed off the sofa and headed for the door.
And Shawn almost let him go, but he couldn’t. He was the one who’d fucked up this time. White was afraid to lose their friendship, and Shawn wasn’t helping.
“Don’t go, White.” Shawn chewed at his bottom lip when White stopped, head bowed, shoulders stiff. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”
“I didn’t want you to stop, I just…” White groaned, lifting his arms to lace his fingers behind his neck. “You know what, you’re right. This needs to stop. I want what we had before back. Can we just watch the movie?”
“Absolutely.” Shawn picked up the remote and skipped back to the scene he’d interrupted with his fondling. “Wanna grab a couple beers while you’re up?”
White laughed. “Sure.”
“And tell me if you change your mind about watching the movie?”
Letting out a heavy sigh, White returned with two beers and handed Shawn one. “I won’t.”
They managed to chill out without further issue. After the third movie—apparently they were now doing an X-men marathon—Shawn teased White about having a man-crush on Wolverine. He offered to relieve some ‘pressure’.
But White’s answer never changed. He’d effectively shoved Shawn back into the friend zone.
Which fucking sucked.
Chapter 2
The baby isn’t mine anymore. Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone?
After what seemed like days of labor—screw the doctor saying how ‘easy’ it had been— Samantha Carter was fucking drained. Only Oriana Delgado, who was gonna be the kid’s mother, had been in the room with her at the time. Which worked, because Oriana got to hold the baby before anyone else. And if there’d been any doubts that Sam was doing the right thing, seeing the other woman carefully cradling the fragile little bundle would have erased them.
But I’ve still got a lot to think about, right? She sighed as she thought over what had gone down after she’d been rushed to the hospital. Jami Richter, her brother’s girlfriend, had wanted to stay with her. She hadn’t argued when Sam asked for Oriana, but that didn’t make Sam feel any less shitty. Oriana’s men—Sloan and Max—had thankfully left when things started getting seriously icky, but in a daze, Sam had suggested they should see their son soon as he was out of her body.
They’re his family.
Seeing them together, she’d been happy. When Jami came in, she started feeling guilty, because apparently the baby looked a bit like Luke, which Sam couldn’t comment on, because she hadn’t held him yet.
“No one let you hold him?” Jami shook her head, planting a forced smile on her lips. “Do you want to?”
No.
No, she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t explain why and Jami wouldn’t understand anyway.
Thankfully, before she had to think up a good answer, Sloan’s father came in. And Oriana’s siblings, and other people, and…and that was the last thing Sam remembered because she fell asleep. A nurse woke her up at some point to go to the bathroom. More nastiness and then Sam got to settle in for a good night’s rest.
When she woke up the nurse brought the baby. Cute little thing, but he scared the hell out of Sam. She’d hoped Oriana would stick around to take care of him, but the nurse said Oriana had gone with Max to get something to eat. She’d been with the baby all night.
“Time for breakfast.” The nurse was all smiles as she brought the little bundle wrapped in blue to Sam. “Just like last night. Follow his lead.”
His lead for what? Sam blinked at the nurse.
“I don’t think she remembers much of last night.” A deep voice came from the corner of the room. Sloan rose from the armchair and stretched. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Screw privacy! Maybe it seemed like a lot of people had been in and out nonstop last night, driving her nuts, but she needed the kid’s parents here!
What if they changed their mind? They couldn’t get attached to the baby if they weren’t around him. And if they didn’t take him, what was she going to do?
I’m not ready to be a mother.
“Don’t go!” Her eyes teared as both the nurse and the baby startled. Damn it, she was already fucking up. “I’m sorry, I just can’t—”
“Shh. It’s fine, Sam.” Sloan approached the nurse, and she placed the baby in his arms. “I can stay if you’d like.”
“Please.” The panic building up in Sam’s chest lessened as she watched how comfortably Sloan held his little boy. The man was huge, with eyes that looked completely black at first glance and a deep scar cutting down his face, which made him seem dangerous. In a purely, fuck, he’s hot kinda way. The type of guy she’d totally go for if he wasn’t involved.
Or even
if he had been, to be honest. She’d never bothered asking any of her exes if they were single.
Throwing herself at anyone stopped being a priority after she got herself knocked up though. Her life had become a colossal mess, and she’d never been more alone. Every kick reminded her it wasn’t only her life she was screwing up.
But now, with the way Sloan looked at the baby, the world seemed like less of a clusterfuck. The kid would have the perfect daddy.
Two of them actually.
But then he brought the baby to her. She bit her lip, staring up at Sloan.
“He needs to be fed, sweetie. We talked about him needing that first milk that comes in.” Sloan sat on the edge of the bed. If he hadn’t been holding the baby, his presence would have been comforting. Instead, she was trying not to freak about the whole feeding thing. And she wasn’t sure how to tell him she didn’t want to do it.
His brow furrowed when she inched back. She dropped her gaze to the sheets covering her legs. “Last night wasn’t enough?”
When he shifted away, she looked up to see his dark eyes soften with understanding. Sloan stood, still holding the baby close. “Unless the doctor thinks you need to pump for your own health, last night is enough. Do you want anything? I can text Max to pick you up a snack or whatever.”
“I’m good.” She leaned back, breathing easier now that no one was gonna make her breastfeed.
The nurse didn’t look too happy, but she just checked Sam’s chart before crisply stating she would go prepare a bottle. Sam pretended to sleep until the woman came back and left. Then she snuck a peek at Sloan, who’d returned to the armchair, baby tucked in the crook of one big arm as he fed the kid like he’d been doing it forever.
“She’s gone. You can get up now and take a shower if you want?” Sloan lifted the baby up to his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. “Unless you’d rather wait until we get home? The doctor said you’d be released today.”
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 2
