by J P Sayle
The quiet time they spent last evening cuddling left him feeling raw. A need for more permanence had him wanting to push harder for what he wanted. But Brad’s history was a real issue. With it held so much pain. The years of abuse had left more than just the physical scarring.
Hell, merely touching had created tension so tight he felt Brad would snap at any moment. His perseverance was paying off when the tension had dissipated from Brad’s body with each touch. He felt the trust between them growing as Brad allowed him in. But it had been short lived. He noticed his withdrawal after the shower when they’d touched unclothed. For every two steps forward, they seemed to be taking one back. Sighing, Martin rubbed at his aching chest, a reminder that uncertainty could be a true bastard.
Though he did appear to have an ally in Princess. Pushing between them, she’d settled on Martin’s chest during the evening. She appeared as disappointed as Brad when he left, but his tiredness had won out. Hangovers and marathon sex had taken their toll. Martin didn’t think Brad was ready for the “I’ll stay the night” part. They’d made out like a couple of teenagers instead, kissing on the doorstep for ages.
His happy thought had him reaching for his phone, shifting and feeling energised with several hours of solid sleep. There was no time like the present to get things moving along. Martin smiled, typing a quick message to Brad.
Morning, sweetheart, hope you slept well ☺ I was wondering if you fancied coming over around 3 pm for a meal, Sunday roast with some dessert? M
As he headed to the shower, butterflies danced, making him feel like a teenager. No sooner had he moved than his phone vibrated. All but tripping, he raced back to grab his phone. Fist pumping, he danced around the bed at the response.
Morning yourself, baby. That would be great. Maybe you could be dessert. I enjoyed sucking on you yesterday x B
Lips curled as devilment danced. Brad wanted to play, did he?
Baby? Are you not my baby? Maybe you could be dessert. You’re just as lip-smacking tasty if memory serves me correctly. I am also not the only one that likes that by the way. You came down my throat M
He hummed as he got in the shower. It may have gotten grey outside, but it sure as hell was sunny inside. A pinging had eager wet hands fumble as he grabbed again for his phone. “Crap.” Water and iPhones didn’t mix. “Prick.” Muttering, Martin yanked the towel, unconcerned he was dripping all over the carpet as he read the text.
Yes, I am most definitely your baby, but I think you enjoyed yourself more than me yesterday. If I am correct, three times to be precise x B
Jaw dropping, he reread the text. Laughter rippled out at Brad’s audacity. This playful side was a real turn-on and made his eyes dance with mischief. While he typed, he felt the excitement build from the fun he was having.
Keeping score, baby? Don’t worry, I will now need to think of some suitable punishment that will make you come and come and come M.
Drying quickly, he pulled on his lip as he perused his goodie drawer. He picked carefully, not wanting to scare Brad. Martin set up the bedroom to his liking. His body thrummed, and excitement had his cock bouncing with joy. Martin couldn’t remember having this much fun before. He grinned like a loon as he dressed.
Martin headed for the kitchen, contemplating food choices. Brad seemed pretty much like him. He would eat anything. But he wanted to make something special.
His pinging phone distracted his perusal.
Bring it on! x B
The devilish smile that spread had Martin’s eyes glowing with challenge. “We’ll see about that.” Mumbling, he considered Brad’s sweet tooth. He was surprised he was so lean with the amount of sweet stuff he tucked away. He’d mentioned a home gym, but he’d not yet explored the upstairs in Brad’s home.
Martin wondered if it would be as amazing as the rest of the house. He had a feeling it would be, now that he was getting to understand Brad. He looked at what he’d lined up. It would appear they were having chocolate orange cheesecake with a soft chocolate base and nothing else.
Laughter snorted out as he sorted out the rest of the meal.
Switching on the music and humming along with the music, he relaxed and let his mind drift. Thoughts had him starting to connect the dots he hadn’t considered. He paused. “What the hell?” He could all but see their timelines align. Brad and Sarah’s arrival to the island seven years ago were simultaneous. Was that why he’d felt compelled? Was his gut trying to tell him all along he belonged here with Brad?
Martin stopped, scanning his senses. No itch. Crap. Even the unsettled feeling was gone. How the hell had he not noticed? Had some external forces pulled him here without him realising it? Christ, it sure as hell felt like it.
The buzzing against the countertop pulled him back from his unsettling thoughts. Martin cursed and scrambled for the phone, knocking the biscuits over. He watched them scatter as his gritty fingers attempted to slide the phone screen. Smears distorted the words. “Shit.”
Snatching the dishcloth, wiped the screen. He realised it was from Sarah. The disappointment was short lived at her words.
Did you survive the great wine adventure that was Friday? You put a fair amount away, and as you haven’t sent me a text to say how bad your hangover was, I thought I better check you’re still alive, so are you, alive that is? XX Sarah
He roared with laughter at the cheeky cow bag, typing a message back.
I survived, though it was touch and go. I think I may never drink again with you!! You’re a bad influence. How are you? Your hangover better match mine. Though now that I recall, I don’t remember you drinking much after we left the restaurant. Not that I remember much after getting to the wine bar!!! Xx M
Had he drunk all the wine? He didn’t want to think too hard about it. Flashing disco lights and a pole might just come back to haunt him. Shuddering, he went back to work. He flung the cloth down just as his phone chirped again.
You wouldn’t share, greedy bastard, so I wasn’t too bad. Don’t forget we planned to meet on Wednesday, and you are going to bring Brad XX S
Martin grinned. He was feeling pretty smug about Brad agreeing to meet her.
Yes, he’s agreed. Where are we meeting? I could get Brad to meet me at the office, and we could go from there. I enjoyed the place we went on Friday. We could go back there? Xx M
After they made arrangements, he managed to finish prepping, though he was unsure how he’d gotten so behind. He triple-checked the tick list, just leaving long enough to tidy up. He backtracked, checking everything was ready. He paced. Was the tablecloth straight? He moved the cutlery. Did it match the plates? He moved the plates into the oven to warm, pulling them back out. What if they got too hot?
Frustrated, Martin ran his hands through his hair. He realised his mistake a second too late and ran to the mirror. “Crap.” with trembling hands, he attempted to tidy himself. Christ, he was acting like a teenage girl. He wasn’t even going to think about how many times he’d changed.
Sighing in disgust as his stomach jittered, he looked to make sure everything was perfect. Back to pacing in the kitchen, he reconsidered warming the plates. As he opened the oven door, steam rose, offering the scent of roasted meat. The fat sizzled, making the meat glisten as the juices roasted it to perfection. It made his mouth salivate. Taking one last sniff, he heard the fat crackle, but reacted too late.
“For fuck’s sake!” Pushing the tray back inside the oven, he rubbed at hot greasy stains as he stormed upstairs for the umpteenth time. Shirt flying, it landed on the edge of the bed. He yanked open the wardrobe. What the hell was he going to wear now? It was too warm for the cashmere sweater, but would it cool down later? Indecision ruled again as he had not a clue what to put on. His shoulders sagged in defeat as he pulled on a black, tight-fitting T-shirt. He consoled himself that at least it would hide any fat disasters.
As he took in the state of the room, his eyes grew wide, Oh, my God, he was so acting like a teenager. Shuddering in desp
air, he watched clothes slide to the floor. He jerked back as the doorbell pealed.
“Shit, shit, he’s early.” Martin grappled with the messy piles of clothes and pushed them haphazardly into the wardrobe. Slamming the doors, Martin hid the mess.
He raced for the door. He’d deal with the disorder later. Feeling a little frazzled, he opened the door. His eagerness died, and his mood plummeted immediately. “Hello, Ms Stevens, what can I do for you?” Martin’s stomach revolted as he watched her fake coy smile spread across her cold features. He moved automatically to block her view, even before he registered he had. Her eyes were straining to see past him. Martin’s face was unable to stop the belligerent look when she handed over a parcel.
“The postman tried to deliver this on Friday, but you were out late.”
Shivering at the ice dripping from each word, Martin barely managed to swallow his own disdain. “Thank you.”
The heavy stench of lilies overpowered as he nudged Ms Stevens back, taking a step back to shut the door. Her inquisitive question had him stopping in his tracks.
“How are things with you and Brad? He seemed to spend a lot of time over here yesterday. Then you went out in his car and didn’t get back till late.” Her hands fluttered, fiddling with the tiny buttons on her high-neck, flowered dress as beady eyes drilled into him.
Not seeming to be finished, she went on in her shrill voice that reminded him of nails scraping down a blackboard.
“You seemed to stay at Brad’s late too. It’s funny, you know, since you arrived he leaves his house a lot more. In fact, it’s daily. You must have a lot of influence over him.”
Martin’s jaw ached as he restrained himself. Knuckles whitened as his hands balled at his sides. The accusations hung between them like a red rag to a bull. What was wrong with Brad going out? Why would she be concerned by that? He had no idea.
Frowning, Martin felt unease spread. Watching her, he tried to figure out what her game was. Martin gave noncommittal responses which eventually had her scurrying away, but not before he’d given her a piece of his mind about her reaction the previous day. He would not tolerate her behaviour, especially when it came to Brad.
The interest she had in Brad was perplexing and appeared almost malicious to him. He shook his head when the question nagged, why? He got she didn’t do “gay,” but her behaviour insinuated there was more to it, but what? Distracted, he didn’t notice Brad’s approach.
The brightness of Brad’s face had Martin’s Adam’s apple bob as he took a big swallow to dislodge the ball of need Brad’s smile and dimples were causing. God, he was gorgeous, and as he looked down his body, pretty fucking hot today.
Dark, soft, form-fitting jeans hugged lean muscles, showing off his slim hips. The deep green Henley shirt fitted perfectly, showcasing his small firm chest. Tucked in, it highlighted his washboard abs. The shirt colour deepened his tropical green eyes and made them glow.
Martin waited and watched Brad walk towards him. He could see the attitude in each step as he swaggered towards him. The gleam of happiness Martin knew was showing on his face appeared to encourage Brad. He stepped into him, Brad’s lips demanding a kiss.
Not wanting to disappoint, he brushed his fingers through his sunny, soft curls, Martin held him closer. He teased with his tongue as ripe cherries exploded when mouths met, reacquainting. Martin moaned his approval. With a niggle at the base of his skull he pulled back. He looked around to see what the hell was spooking him.
The flinty contempt directed at them had him shielding Brad as he yanked him over the threshold and slammed the door. Martin hesitated as Brad’s eyes widened, questioning.
“Have I done something wrong?”
Brad’s meekness pissed him off, even more after he’d been so confident a minute ago.
“No, babe.” Nuzzling into Brad’s curls, he cuddled him close. He loved the weight of his head as it nestled on his shoulder. Martin explained himself. “Ms Stevens was spying. Nosy bugger had been here asking all sorts of questions. She just pissed me off.” He lifted Brad’s chin. “I was disappointed it wasn’t you when I opened the door.”
Dimples flashed at him with approval, making Martin want to forget the meal and go straight for dessert. Taking Brad’s hand, Martin guided the both away from temptation. “Come on, I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”
Brad’s rosy glow had him thinking about the last time they’d eaten in the kitchen. Martin moved away so he could readjust himself, wishing for his earlier shirt. The silence penetrated past his lust. Observing Brad, he tried to decipher the odd look that had replaced the smile. It could be awe, but he wasn’t quite sure. “Is everything okay?” His concern grew as Brad’s eyes started to glisten. Panic gripped him. Shit, was Brad going to cry. Oh fuck.
Grabbing him tight, he rocked him as you would a baby, desperate to soothe. “What is it?” The panic-filled question received a snuffle. Oh, Christ, he hated tears. They made him feel inadequate.
After he shuffled to the chair, he cradled Brad in his lap. “Shush, baby. It’s okay.” He whispered nonsense until the sniffles slowly died. Brad’s wet, red-rimmed eyes finally appeared from his neck, making him feel like a monster. Rosy cheeks glowed along with his button nose; his lips were swollen and puffy.
Martin gently released Brad’s tortured lips. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby?” He was not above begging at this point. Worry and distress made him anxious. Martin was grasping at straws, willing to try anything to make him smile. “I have chocolate orange cheesecake if you tell me what’s wrong. I might share.”
Wet chuckles escaped and eased the tension between them as Brad mumbled into his neck. “You went to so much effort for me.”
He barely heard the words as Brad’s face pushed back into his shoulder. Relief flooded Martin as he finally caught up. “Christ, is that all?” Laughter shimmered in his voice as he struggled to hold it back at the pitiful look in Brad’s eyes. Martin kissed Brad’s now pouty mouth. “You’re worth it. Come on, I’m starving.”
Brad’s smile returned, albeit a little watery. He was just grateful that the earlier lightness seemed to be returning. His relief was immense as he was not sure how he would have coped if it had been anything else.
Martin kept it light. Wanting Brad to relax, he talked of silly things he had done with Sarah. But Brad’s face turned pensive when their conversation turned to Wednesday’s meal. Martin rushed to reassure him with some photos of Sarah that if she ever found out he’d shown would result in a painful death. But it worked on relaxing Brad.
The conversation flowed, and even the interruption of Princess hadn’t distracted too much. It appeared she had taken a liking to him as she sat on his lap for most of the evening. The atmosphere relaxed them both. Soulful music drenched the air.
Stroking Princess’s silky fur helped hide his unsteady hands. Wanting to talk about his up and coming trip, Martin wondered if he would come away with him. Taking the bull by the horns, he just came out with it. “When was the last time you travelled off the island for pleasure or work?”
Brad’s surprised expression had him praying that it wasn’t worse than he thought.
“Eh, about seven years ago. I have no reason to go anywhere. My work is portable, easily done anywhere, and I have a home office. All my work is done via the internet, mixed with a few phone calls. I don’t need to meet my customers. All my work is on my website, so it’s accessible to anyone who searches. Though word of mouth has brought me a lot of work in the past.” Brad shrugged as if it was normal to be so insular.
Frowning, Martin was not satisfied by his answer. “Why don’t you go away for pleasure, you know holidays?”
Brad’s eyes darted away. Martin realised it was his tell. Any time Brad got nervous he would avoid looking at him.
“I haven’t had anyone to go with, and I don’t see the point of going on my own.”
He was pleased by the answer, even though Martin knew he shouldn’t be. He smiled d
espite himself, delighted when he got an answering smile back. Feeling a little more confident that Brad was not unable to leave but that it was his choice, Martin pushed on. “I have several trips planned in the coming weeks. Eh, I, err, wondered if maybe you’d consider coming with me?”
Brad’s wistful smile turned into bewilderment before he hid behind his hair. Watching Brad fiddle with his napkin, eyes flickering anywhere but at him, made Martin’s stomach drop. Martin hunched in disappointment into the chair. Sulking, he didn’t hear Brad straight away.
“Yes. Okay, where would we go?”
He turned his surprised gaze to Brad to make sure he was not joking. “You mean it; you’ll come?” Excitement bubbled inside him. He didn’t give a crap at how eager he sounded. He hardly resisted the urge to jump up and shout in joy. “I have an office based in London near Canary Wharf. You could chill or work, and then we could go out clubbing or to a show or whatever you fancy.” It took a moment to realise Brad wasn’t feeling the same.
Brad’s next word’s had the excitement drop. “London, I am not sure. My father has his office based in Kensington. What if we ran into him?”
Moving forward, he gripped Brad’s hands. “We can avoid any areas you know that he goes to. It will be fun. I can’t see your dad at a gay club, can you?” Wagging his brows, he wore an exaggerated evil smirk. He saw it had the desired effect when Brad nodded, and his lips curving slightly.
“Okay, I’ll come.”
Martin released a sigh of relief, doing an internal fist pump. “Great, let’s go for a walk and burn off some of these calories before dessert.” Silently promising he would make sure they had a fabulous time. Nothing was going to spoil it. Nothing.
Brad
They walked together into the icy sea breeze letting it whip against their exposed skin. He loved the small bit of heat that spread as Martin clasped their hands together. Brad viewed the sea, feeling the anger it could display more dominant than usual. Watching as it thrashed wildly into the sand, nothing escaping its watery clutches as it dragged whatever it found back into its depths. The wispy clouds in the sky, chased across its greyness as the wind howled around them.
