by V. L. Locey
The waiter stammered and blushed then went off to work. Michael was giving his sister a long, rather ugly, glower.
“Kelly, you don’t have to thank the man for free napkins. They’re free. Do you think you could stop flirting with the server and get back to how much Bryn and I love each other and what that means?”
“Right, yes, sorry, he’s just so cute. He kind of looks like Jason Padalecki.” She tossed her head and zeroed in on her son chewing a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. “Okay, so when two people love each other like Uncle Mike and Uncle Bryn do they decide to move in with each other.”
Liam chewed, nodded, chewed, nodded again, and then swallowed. “Bobby Garson said his mommy and daddy got married because his mommy had a baby in her belly. Is Uncle Mike got a baby in his belly?”
“No! No, I do not have a baby in my belly. Bryn discussed that with you already, remember? Most men can’t have a baby in their belly because most men don’t have a what?” Michael rushed to get things back on track.
“A womb,” Liam said, putting lots of emphasis on the b.
“Correct,” I hurried to add. “What your uncle and I are talking about is living with each other in the same house. That’s what people who love each other do.”
Liam studied us intently, his slice of pizza resting on his lower lip which, so far, was not sliding out for a bird to land on.
“Are you going to marry each other?” The child looked right into my soul and then looked at his uncle then his mother. “Can I throw the flowers at the wedding people? MaryAnne Jones said she was a flower thrower for her aunt. And people told her she was pretty and gave her money after she done a good job throwing flowers at people.”
“Liam, let’s just slow down a bit. Uncle Bryn and Uncle Mike aren’t getting married. Yet.” Kelly’s direct look drove home her feelings about me making an honest man out of her brother. The collar of my new D&G shirt felt a tad tight. “But they are taking the first big step toward marrying each other. They want to live together, which is kind of like a trial marriage.”
“Is they playing house?” the boy asked.
We all leaped on that like jackals on a sickly hare.
“Yes!”
“Exactly!”
“Yep, we’re going to be playing house. I’ll be moving in with Uncle Bryn at his place and you and your mom will have our house all to yourselves. What do you think about that?” Michael enquired delicately. We all sat there with bated breath. I clearly recalled the last time I’d blundered into this pitfall and did not want to make that same mistake again. So, I said nothing.
“Will you still come over and take me places, Uncle Mike?”
I could hear Michael’s heart breaking. He left his seat and scooped up the boy so that he could hug him tightly.
“Of course. Oh, of course! We’ll still do all the fun things but now, when he has time, Uncle Bryn will come along too.”
Liam peeked at me over Michael’s shoulder. I nodded up at the child. He didn’t smile or frown, he simply stared at me as if weighing my head bob.
“Is there a room just for me and Cap at Uncle Bryn’s house?”
“We’re going to decorate a room just for you, Liam,” I told him as a pack of other kids ran past, stopping on a dime and then circling back to wave at Liam. Seems two of the young men went to Happy Times daycare with Liam.
“Okay, you can play house.” Liam kissed his uncle then demanded to be let down, so he could play with two of the kids from his daycare. Off he went. His slice of pizza half-eaten, to the massive ball pit. Michael collapsed into his chair and buried his face into his hands.
“Thank all the gods he took that well,” Michael said after a long moment, his hands dropping to his lap. “I was terrified that we’d have a detonation like before.”
I reached over to rub his back and kissed him on his scruffy cheek.
Kelly giggled at her brother and then, much to our surprise, went off to find the server to ‘compliment’ the fine service and pizza. Michael sat beside me, his green gaze on his sister’s back as she wiggled up to the cute waiter and started talking away.
“Really? She’s going after a guy who works slinging pizza to kids?” Michael grumbled. I took hold of his chin and kissed him soundly. When we broke apart, his emerald gaze held a different kind of fire. “Okay, yeah, I know. She’s an adult and can flirt with whoever she wants. No law against flirting with rich men though.”
“Oh, now I don’t know. He seems pleasant and obviously likes to be around children. And he does look a great deal like Jason Padalecki when he smiles.” I caressed his chin and gazed into his eyes. “So, when do I get you in my house, Mr. Kneller?”
“This weekend?”
“Mm, I would love that, but we’ll be in New York for the first two games of the quarterfinals.”
“Leave me a key and I’ll be waiting for you to come home from New York wearing nothing but an apron and a smile.” He winked playfully but there was fire in his words.
“I’ll visit the key smith tomorrow.” I stole another kiss, and then one more, before Liam returned to the table, breathless and clutching a small green Hulk action figure. The boy climbed up onto my lap and held out his newly won—or stolen but I hoped it was won so to avoid a scene—toy to me. “What is this?”
“It’s Hulk. Duh, Uncle Bryn.” The boy rolled his eyes. “Kenny give him to me and I’m giving him to you because you make Uncle Mike happy with kisses.”
I’ve been given many things in my life. Awards for goaltending, golden sticks, multimillion-dollar contracts, cars and watches and sneakers from advertisers. But none of those touched me as this tiny green bit of molded plastic did.
“Thank you, Liam, this means a great deal to me.” I hugged him tightly and got a sticky kiss on the cheek. Yes, I could see myself and Michael doing this fathering thing and doing it well. For the most part. I hoped.
When the Ravens left for New York City three days later, I had my gift from Liam in my bags for good luck. He seemed to be quite the lucky little green man because we rolled over New York in those first two games. Winning in their own arena felt wonderful, and the Ravens were ebullient on the short flight back home. I was beyond excited to get back to Pittsburgh and my condo. According to the text I had gotten while showering after the game, Michael was ready for me. That was all he had typed. It was driving me mad. Was he truly in an apron and nothing else? The thought of him bouncing around our home, and saying it was ours made me more than slightly giddy, with his sweet ass bared had me hard as a rock during the flight home. I had to use a blanket over my lap and complain about the air blowing down on me to divert attention from the huge erection in my trousers.
The drive from the barn to home was downright painful. I tried to act aloof and nonchalant after unlocking the front door but seeing Michael sashay out of the kitchen holding a martini wearing a frilly little pink apron and black stockings erased all that Swedish cool the sportswriters had been saying I’d shown over the past two games.
“Look at you,” I said, my gaze roaming up and down him, touching briefly on his cock holding up the apron then settling on his soft, fuzzy belly. I wanted him so badly it was hard to breathe. “Waiting for me in our home. Why no high heels?”
“I tried some on at the mall, but I nearly broke my ankles, so this the best housewife impersonation you’re going to get. Please note the pearl necklace,” he cooed, a wicked gleam in his beautiful eyes. He handed me the cocktail then slowly turned, showing me his tight little ass. I reached out to cup a cheek and got a playful slap on the hand. I cocked an eyebrow, took a sip of the perfectly made martini, placed it on the coffee table, and then tossed my travel bag to the floor. He danced out of reach. “No play until the lamb roast is done. You don’t want me to burn the meat, do you?”
“Turn it down low and get into the bathroom.”
“Bathroom?”
“Bathroom. The plane ride has made me sweaty and I want a shower.”
&
nbsp; He lifted the string of pearls from his chest and placed a perfect white orb between his lips, which I just now noticed had been colored deepest pink. He’d also lined his eyes and applied some color to his lids. My cock jerked at the softly feminine look on this rugged man. The makeup mixed with the soft stubble was incredibly hot. I’d never known I could find this kind of combination so appealing but there it was.
“You go get in the shower. I’ll go tend to the meat,” he said breathily as if he were a 50s film starlet. Watching him saunter into the kitchen was torture. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself balls deep in that sweet backside of his, but we had time for some games. Obviously, he was feeling this roleplay so why not see where it would lead?
He never appeared in the bath until I was done showering, which was rather disappointing.
“I was hoping that you’d join me,” I said while sliding the shower doors open. He pouted prettily, plush gray towel in hand.
“I had to turn down the lamb and put the side dishes in the fridge.” He moved around me, patting at my back and ass, asking me to lift my arms, and then rubbed the towel over my chest and stomach. “Are you put out with me?”
“A little,” I replied then bit back a groan when he rubbed my cock dry with the towel.
“Oh my, I’ve been a very bad wife. Perhaps I need a spanking?” His gaze touched mine, then he looked downward, his thickly mascaraed lashes painting him as the perfectly contrite little tease.
“I think you just might.”
I pulled the towel out of his hand, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and covered his mouth with mine. Michael shuddered when our cocks bumped then clung to me, going so far as to drag his left foot up my thigh. I steered him back to the marble counter, sucking on his tongue as we stumbled in reverse. We tasted deeply of each other as our hands roamed. I found his cock under his apron then cupped his balls, squeezing them roughly. He whimpered into my mouth as he rolled his hips.
“Mm do that again. I love it when you do that,” he huffed when the kiss broke. I nipped at his lower lip, released his balls, and turned him around.
“Bend over.” The command was firm but gently said. I saw the shiver roll over his shoulders and down his spine. He did as I told him, laying his chest and cheek on the cool marble counter. I stepped closer, my cock sliding between his legs, and opened the medicine cabinet. “Lay still,” I told him when he grew antsy and fidgety. He stilled instantly. I found the pump bottle of lube and removed it from the medicine cabinet, making a show of placing it right in front of his nose. His hips moved. I slapped his ass, the crack reverberating off the walls. Michael yelped. “You’re not listening well this evening.”
“Sorry, sorry. Shit. No, yes. Sorry.”
“Are you sorry or aren’t you?” I asked, rubbing my dick along his dangling balls while I pumped copious amounts of lube over my right hand.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I could feel the tension in him as he worked to keep himself still. I knew how hard that would be for him. He was, as he said when we’d first discussed this, a vigorous bottom. He was energetic and vocal, which was precisely how I liked my men. “That hurt.”
I ran my fingers along the cleft of his ass then pressed two into him. “I won’t do it again. I thought you wanted it.”
“I did too. I don’t think I do now.”
I bent over him to drop a kiss to his spine. “Then we won’t ever do that again. Do you like this?” I crooked my fingers and scraped a finger over his prostate. His fingers squeaked when he clawed at the countertop.
“Yes, oh, Bryn yes, I love that.” His hips began to move again. I pulled my fingers out then took hold of my cock, easing the head into him. The muscles along his shoulders and arms tightened. His fingers found the edge of the counter, and he arched his back to offer me more of his heat. I gladly accepted the offer, pressing deeper and deeper into him, the tug and pull of his slick, hot body making it hard to maintain control of the situation.
“God above your ass is divine,” I grunted when I was seated inside him.
Michael muttered something, possibly about lamb or my cock or perhaps the weather in Greece. It was impossible to understand his exhalation, but his body was easy to read. His muscles tightened around me, urging me deeper. I pulled out and thrust back in hard, getting that sweet sound from the man giving himself to me without reservation. Wrapping the ties of the apron around my fist, I pounded away as if I’d not had sex in years. This was the effect Michael had on me.
“Bryn, oh hell fire and damnation! Fuck! I want to come. Please, Bryn. Yes? Please?”
“Yes,” I ground out, rising to my toes to get that extra bit of depth as my balls contracted. Michael came as well, his orgasm thundering through him, making him tense and tight around me. I thrust deeper, filling him, tugging on the apron ties to keep him where he was. The thin strips of material gave way and he sagged back to the counter. It was only then that I understood just how far I had lifted him from the marble countertop. I tossed the ties aside as the apron fell to the carpeting, landing on my left foot.
“Shit, oh, man…my apron,” he gasped, his muscles still trembling as the rush of release began to ease. “How will I ever be Mrs. Cleaver again?”
“I’ll buy you a new apron.” I rolled my hips and he groaned low and deep. “Perhaps several. This way whenever I come home from a road trip there you will be, in a fresh little apron that I can then destroy.”
“I kind of like the sound of that,” he replied.
I eased out of him, placing a hand to his lower back to pin him in place. Just for a second. I always enjoyed seeing my spunk leak out of him for some reason and tonight was no exception. When I was done gawking, I stepped back, helped him to an upright position, and took him in my arms after he turned to face me. His mouth was sweet and eager, his tongue soft on mine.
“Let’s shower and then go eat that lamb,” I whispered over his lips.
“Are you happy to come home to lamb roast and me in an apron?”
I pulled him as close as I could get him, his belly tight to mine, his hair tickling my nose.
“I cannot recall ever being happier.”
In truth, he could have served me a ham sandwich and been clad in old jeans and a torn T-shirt. The food and the sexy apron were wonderful touches, but they were nothing compared to walking into my condo and seeing the joy in his eyes when he saw I was home.
“Good. Remember that when you look in the closet.”
I patted his rump, kissed him on the neck, and then asked, “Exactly what did you do in the closet?”
He wiggled free, took me by the hand, and led me to the walk-in closet. When the door was open and the light on, I saw his old, worn tweed had been inserted smack dab into the middle of all my European designer suit jackets. I glanced over at him, his smile was pure imp.
“That’s the perfect place for that tweed. Unless you wanted to pair it with a new apron?” I waggled a brow at him.
“Be careful what you ask for,” Michael warned, flipped off the light, and took me to the bath where we spent far more time than we should have under the water. The lamb was dry when we finally got to it but neither one of us seemed to care.
Epilogue
Mike
It was opening night for the Ravens and we were there, cheering on our hometown team. I might have been rooting a little louder for the goalie, but I’m allowed to be biased. Bryn had gotten us fantastic seats, two rows back from the Ravens bench, for this special night. I sat beside Liam, who was already hyped from the soda he’d drank and the cotton candy he’d ingested before we’d even gotten to our seats. Now he was eating a hot dog with relish.
“I’m really glad he’s going home in your car and not mine,” I leaned over to say to Kelly on my left.
She smiled dreamily. She did that a lot of late, ever since she and Adam, that cute pizza waiter, had fallen hopelessly in love. He was an okay sort. I guess. Nice, great with Liam, treated Kelly like she was Princess
Grace, and a hard worker. The kid had his eye on a management position at work and was taking a business course online. They’d not dated long enough to be so smitten I thought, but when I had brought that up, Kelly reminded me that it was roughly a year since Bryn and I had met and look how fast we’d leaped into cohabitating.
“Stop buying him all that junk, and he won’t be able to eat it,” she replied, lacing her fingers tightly with Adam’s who was sipping on a cup of lemon-lime soda. Did I mention he doesn’t drink either? Hard as I tried to be the protective big brother, I could find hardly any faults with Adam, his questionable taste in ugly shoes aside.
I waved her answer off. I missed Liam. Even though I still saw him at least four times a week and picked him up from preschool on Monday and Friday and had him over on the weekends whenever I could, I felt left out. He was five now. Soon he would be six and in school full-time and our relationship would never be the same. Also, I worried about Adam. He looked like the type that was fond of popping the question. It was obvious he was crazy about Kelly, and yes, he would make a good father for Liam. The writing was on the wall. Uncle Mike was going to be replaced by a young, fun, Jason Padalecki looking new dad and would fade from importance. I sighed and sniffled just a bit. Liam looked at me oddly, his cheeks round from a hot dog. He swallowed with difficulty.
“Why are you sad?” he asked as we waited for the Ravens to be introduced to the fans. “They will win this year. I know. Cap says the resil ants come out on top.”
“Do you mean the resilient?” I plucked his napkin from his pocket and wiped the relish off his chin as he nodded. “Ah well then, yeah, Cap is right. And I’m sure the Ravens will take the cup this year. They were pretty close last season, huh?”
“Super close. Oooo, it’s dark. Look at the lights! Uncle Mike, look at the lights!” He jumped to his feet as the lights lowered in the arena. Every fan had been given small handheld lights in the Ravens colors as they entered. Now they were waving them around in the dark. I handed Liam his and he held it over his head as high as he could reach.
