His Stepdad Wears Leather

by Kelex

  His bartender smiled, a relieved expression on his face. “Good plan.”

  “I appreciate the offer.”

  The man lifted his hand and trailed his fingertips along Noah’s chin. “Well, it’s nearing closing at this point. I can give you a ride to wherever you need once I’m done for the night. Assuming this relative is fairly local?”

  “Yeah, they are.” Noah smiled. “But it’s a little late to be knocking on their door tonight. I’ll head over in the morning.”

  “Where will you end up tonight?”

  “Any cheap hotels close? One where I won’t get murdered or end up with a flesh-eating disease?”

  His bartender laughed, the sound warm and inviting. The smile that followed caused Noah’s heart to speed up. “How about you spend the night with me? I promise not to murder you. Or give you a flesh-eating disease.”

  Noah grinned. “Fuck me again like that and you might kill me.”

  The guy grinned, appearing to enjoy the compliment. “I offered you a roof over your head. I said nothing about more sex.”

  Noah writhed in the man’s lap, turning slightly to fully face him. “Seriously? One and done?” He grinned wickedly. “Not fair.”

  That earned him another warm chuckle. He liked the man’s smile. A lot. He wanted to see more of them.

  That thought hit him square in the gut.

  He’d wanted a hook-up. Nothing more.

  No need to be clingy, his inner voice whispered. Just because he fucked the life out of you doesn’t mean he’s ‘the one.’

  But another thought occurred. What if his mother refused to give him shelter? Or his parents were out there, ready to grab him. At the very least, he needed somewhere to sleep for the night.

  “I would be eternally grateful if you gave me somewhere to stay for the night. I promise to be out of your hair by morning.”

  “Good. That’s settled.” He cocked his head to the side as he searched Noah’s face. “You ready to head back out? Or do you need another moment?”

  “I’m good,” Noah murmured. He slid off the man’s lap and reached for his manties on the floor. “Do you have a towel or something I could use to clean off?”

  A drawer was opened and a baby wipe removed. “Come here.”

  Noah chuckled as he stepped closer. “How Boy Scout-ish of you. Lube. Condoms. Baby wipes. You’ve got the ultimate sex den here.”

  “It’s used more for sex than managing, that’s for sure,” the man said as he wiped the jizz off Noah’s shaft.

  “Glad you used a condom,” Noah said sarcastically. “Who was your last hook-up in here?” Noah asked, curious. “Please tell me it wasn’t that guy from earlier.”

  The guy laughed. “I am not answering that.”

  “Oh come on. I saw Mr. Mojito. I want to know if you have a type.”

  He grinned. “I have no type. I love everyone.”

  “Everyone has a type.”

  His bartender leered. “So is yours daddies?”

  A smile grew on Noah’s face. “Maybe it is.”

  The guy didn’t reply. He simply offered a wicked grin of his own.

  Noah arched a brow before pulling his manties back on. As he did, he noted the bartender watching closely. “Well, if this is going to last more than an hour, can I get a name? Calling you ‘daddy’ all night is going to get old.”

  “Brody,” the guy murmured.

  “Brody. I think I like that.”

  “Glad you approve.” The guy laughed again, and it drew a smile to Noah’s lips. Noah rounded the desk and grabbed his pants.

  “Oh, I approve.” He smiled. “But I prefer daddy.”

  Brody rose, shoving his softening cock into his leather pants. He then walked closer and offered Noah a gentle kiss. “I like the way you say it, that’s for sure.”

  A shiver raced down Noah’s spine. He glanced around, a bit overwhelmed. “Any idea where my shirt is?”

  Brody shrugged. “I can let you borrow one of mine later.”

  “Thanks,” Noah said, reaching for his sweatshirt. “I left with little more than the clothes on my back and now I don’t even have all those.”

  Brody hissed, looking apologetic. “Sorry. It was on my shoulder when we were dancing and it disappeared. I’ll ensure it’s replaced.”

  “It’s all good.”

  “Have you eaten tonight?” the man asked as he ushered Noah out of the office and ensured the door was locked.

  “I had some rest stop BK on the way here this afternoon.” Truth be told, he’d been too anxious to eat much. He’d downed a couple of bites before tossing most of it out.

  “Fast food? That shit’ll kill you.” They walked out toward the bar. “No wonder that alcohol hit you so hard. I could whip you up something if you’re still hungry. Kitchen’s closed, but I’m sure I can make a quick sandwich at least.”

  “You’re already going to enough trouble.” His stomach growled a little at the thought of food.

  “No trouble.”

  “Well…” He put a hand to his gurgling stomach.

  Brody grinned. “Come on.”

  4

  The bar had thinned out considerably by the time Brody laid the plate on the bar in front of Chris—but then, it was well past one on a Tuesday night. When the guy glanced up at him sheepishly before grabbing the roast beef and Swiss sammy with both hands, a twist of desire had him immediately second-guessing that offer to stay. What the hell had he been thinking? He didn’t make a habit of offering sleepovers to anyone, especially some stranger he knew practically nothing about.

  No matter how adorable that stranger was.

  Not only had he offered a bed for the night, he’d actually asked the guy to dish on an ex. As soon as the words had been out of his mouth, he’d been terrified Chris would take him up on the offer. Sure, he didn’t mind offering a shoulder to lean on—but he’d been on dates where a guy had gone on and on about a shitty ex and they hadn’t been fun. He’d literally asked to be tortured.

  Yet, there along the misgivings was a thread of anticipation for what came later running through his veins. Of course, he didn’t expect more, and he’d said as much. Sex wasn’t the cost of admission, but there was little doubt he’d get it all the same.

  The prospect excited him.

  One taste definitely hadn’t been enough.

  “Thanks,” Chris said.

  Brody read the guy’s lips more so than heard anything. The music was blaring, playing the final few songs of the night to a near empty club. He gave a short bow as a welcome before heading for the door. Once there, his head of security, Lex, gave him a quick 4-1-1 for the night. Luckily the music was lower in the entryway, so he could hear most of what the guy said, though he wasn’t as focused as he should be. Brody pretended to be paying attention, but he couldn’t. There was only one question he’d truly cared about. After hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he asked, “He come in with anyone?”

  Lex turned his attention to Chris. For a moment, Brody let his gaze travel to the same destination. The guy was scarfing down the sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in days. That wasn’t the only hunger Brody wanted to feed. There was a ravenousness in Chris’ eyes that Brody was compelled to nourish.

  A need to be protected that had Brody’s hackles rising for some reason.

  What the hell am I getting myself into?

  “Is he your flavor for the night?” Lex asked with a slight arch to his brow. “I wouldn’t consider him your type.”

  “Who said I have a type?”

  Lex rolled his eyes. “Honestly, who knows with you anymore. For years you went for the silver foxes but then recently I’ve noticed the long line of skinny twinks heading to the back with you. I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  “A long line of twinks? Not hardly.”

  “Cut the crap. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. These skinny white boys waltz back there with you only to come back out a half hour or so later and lea
ve alone by the end of the night. Before they go, they’ll usually sit close to the bar, watching for you. Hopeful you’ll offer another crumb. It’s pathetic.”

  Brody rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.”

  Lex eyed Chris again, ignoring Brody’s argument. “I mean, he’s sort of twinkish, I guess—but he definitely seems older than the ones you’ve been fucking. He’s not skin and bones.” Lex’s stare narrowed as he examined Chris. “I bet he was the star quarterback in high school. I can see him now in his letterman jacket, parading around campus.” Lex paused. “With those looks and the syrupy accent, I’d say he had all the girls on his arm— but the fact he’s here wearing red lace panties, I’d say that either didn’t happen or he only did it to cover who he really was deep down.”

  Brody stiffened before turning to see if Chris had suddenly stripped. The guy was wolfing down the last of his sandwich with no sign of red lace anything.

  Turning back to Lex, he lifted a brow. “When did you see those red lace panties?”

  Lex paused, grinning. “Calm down. He hitched the side of them up when I questioned his lack of leather on leather night. Not like I asked him to drop-trou. All I saw was a little piece hooked in his finger.” Lex laughed. “But I see who else has seen them. Did you slip him to the back and I missed it? Damn.”

  Brody relaxed a little… yet the fact he needed to relax unsettled him. Why was he so tense in the first place? One fuck didn’t give him any right to lay claim to anyone. It’s not like he didn’t have notches on his bedposts. Chris was free to show his red lace panties to anyone he wanted—

  A little voice whispered in the back of his mind. What? The fuck he can.

  Possessiveness wasn’t in Brody’s nature. More than a fling wasn’t either. His stare flitted to the bar once more. What was it about the guy that had him shifting gears?

  Lex’s appraisal wasn’t that far off. The kid did have an ex-school jock vibe about him. Leaned a little too close to clean-cut—though the scruff from a days-long bus-trip had helped. Chris wasn’t overly muscled but enough to make the lingerie unanticipated. The southern-fried accent, too.

  Maybe that’s what was intriguing him. That lingerie had been surprising, and Brody was rarely surprised anymore. He turned back to Lex. “What’s so wrong with being the quarterback? That was me back in high school and college. You were my left tackle, so you don’t have much room to talk.”

  Lex snapped. “That’s what it is.” He paused and eyed Brody. “He’s a younger version of you in a pair of pretty panties.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Twenty years ago, you were that boy, lost and alone… searching for the right daddy.”

  Brody scoffed. “Yeah, and I didn’t find the right one, did I? Just a string of wrong ones.” A coach or two. A professor. A dozen other older men. Yeah, he’d gone through his daddy phase, that was for sure… until the last bad breakup had forced him to reconsider the type of men he went after.

  Only that had left him floundering. Lex was right. He’d been filling his nights with enthusiastic younger men. The antithesis of the daddies he’d always chased.

  “Yeah, you had plenty of wrong ones… but you now know what not to do. You can be a better daddy.”

  Lex’s words sank into him. After years of bad daddies, he had no desire to be someone’s daddy.

  Did he?

  When Chris had whispered that single word, it had lit him on fire. The kid wasn’t the first one to call him daddy—but he was the first one where it felt—right.

  He caught Chris peeking over one shoulder and grinned. Chris returned it—somewhat—as much as he could with his mouth full. He went back to his sandwich. Brody turned back to Lex… who wore a critical expression.

  “What?” Brody asked.

  Lex didn’t reply. “He showed up alone. Said something about running from a bad breakup and he was on his way somewhere,” he paused, an eyebrow rising. “Wanted to celebrate his newfound freedom.”

  At least the story matched. “He have ID?”

  “You know I don’t let them in without one, but then, all these little, young, white boys all look the same to me. Oh, to be young again.”

  Brody laughed, shoving a hand through the hair that was starting to show a few signs of gray. “I wish I could roll back the clock a little some days.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” Lex said. “You’re slowly turning into a silver fox and will likely get even more ass when you do. Unlike me, the aging, massive bottom who scares men away.”

  “I thought the term was power bottom. Is massive bottom a new phrase I’m not familiar with?” Offering a grin, he laughed at Lex’s eye roll. He knew damn well the word had described Lex’s enormous size. It had made him a mean left tackle but scared the hell out of a lot of men. “I mean, I’m aware you’ve put that hole to work over the years.”

  “Jealous?” Lex asked, grinning. But the smile slowly vanished.

  He felt bad for Lex. It had to be hard to be a black, gay man who was nearly seven feet tall and packed with muscle—and be a bottom. Only the most confident of tops could handle all that man… but if anyone deserved a considerate, self-possessed top, it was Lex. “And if I was?”

  “Liar,” Lex snapped before winking. “It’s not like you want in my pants. You love me for my witty repartee and nothing more, you bastard.”

  They’d nearly crossed that line years before, but it hadn’t seemed right—for either of them. They were better friends than lovers. “It almost happened, though.”

  Lex patted his cheeks. “When I was young and beautiful.”

  “I thought black don’t crack?”

  Lex narrowed his eyes and glared. He pointed at himself. “I can say that. You… cannot.”

  Brody put his hands up in mock surrender before glancing over his shoulder at Chris. He was drawn like a moth to a flame, unable to stop gawking. When he dragged his gaze away from Chris and met Lex’s amused one, he saw the twist of his best friend’s lips. It was enough to cause him to feel punchy. Lex saw through him and never kept his mouth shut. It was what he loved about the guy.

  Usually.

  Instead of responding to Lex’s knowing look, he spat, “I need to check on the bar.” He nodded and smiled to a few customers leaving. “Night, folks.”

  “Don’t let your guy forget his bag when you take him upstairs tonight,” Lex chirped, grinning wider.

  A blast of cold air hit him as the doors swung open and closed—causing him to shiver a moment. He never had overnighters. Never. “Who said anything about taking him home with me?”

  “Remember that little nest we found as kids? The one with the baby bird with the broken wing?”

  Brody paused, frowning. He hadn’t thought about that in eons—and what did it have to do with their current situation? “What about it?”

  “You got this look on your face when we stumbled across it… determination, I suppose. You were going to save that little broken bird. I saw it again and again on the field, when we were down in the fourth and needed to rally. You’ve got that same look right now—I haven’t seen it in a long, long time.” Lex pointed at Chris. “He’s your little bird with a broken wing.” Lex seemed pleased with himself. “And you’re going to save him.”

  “Who said anything about saving anyone?” Brody barked.

  “Have I struck a nerve?”

  Brody rolled his eyes. “If you recall, that bird didn’t make it.” He paused, eyeing Chris again. “And too often, we’d ultimately lose the game. I learned a long time ago that the only person I could save was me.”

  “That philosophy is why you’re alone.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t get invested in anyone. You don’t allow anyone close. You didn’t let the daddies in close. You sure as hell don’t with the twinks. When was your last relationship? I can barely remember.”

  “I have a great relationship with my son and his moms. You. What more do I need?”

  Lex eyed the bar for a brief
few seconds before focusing on him. “I don’t know. What more do you need?”

  Brody opened his mouth to argue. To say ‘nothing’. But his mouth wouldn’t spout the lie. “Fuck you.”

  Last call was announced with the loud clamoring of the bell. His head bartender, Carter, screamed the announcement, dragging Brody’s focus back to the bar.

  And Chris.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t already claimed that ass,” Lex said, pulling him back to their conversation. “I can see it on your face. Now you want more.”

  Another small group of patrons left. Brody paused, nodding and smiling, and biting back the smart-assed comment that wanted to leap off his lips.

  The second they were past, Lex dug back in. “You can glare at me all you want, but I recognize what I see. This one’s different than the others.”

  “No… he’s not. He’s a quick piece of ass who needs a roof over his head for one night. I stupidly offered it.”

  Lex let out a shout of glee. “So he is staying the night? I called that one.”

  “Extenuating circumstances,” Brody replied.

  “And just how many of the guys you’ve slept with in recent months would’ve gotten that same offer if they’d needed a place to stay?”

  None. “I’m done with this conversation.”

  “Of course you are. You know I’m right.” Lex laughed in his loud, attention-stealing way. “Shoo. Go, take care of your little bird.”

  Brody shook his head and returned to the bar. After a quick nod to Chris, he cleaned up in the general area—not going much more than ten feet away. He didn’t want to get too close, Lex’s theories bothering him more than they should have. The other two bartenders and the bar back zipped around him, doing the majority of the work. Slowly, as he neared Chris, he focused on the empty plate and cup of soda.