by J P Sayle
The silence seemed to go on forever, with no one speaking.
Breaking the impasse, Nick shuffled his now aching backside across the dusty hardwood floor, towards the ripped parcel and the colourful contents sprayed everywhere he could see. The dark varnished floor gave the colourful rainbow the perfect place to showcase the bright satiny material.
Nick’s hope that they wouldn’t be able to see exactly what the package contained died with the bold writing splayed over the packets. He was convinced the word “manties” all but jumped out at him, making sure there was no mistaking what they were.
He grabbed the packets, shoving them haphazardly back inside the ripped parcel, saying nothing. He tried to pretend nothing had happened, giving off a “there’s nothing to see here” vibe. He kept his gaze firmly down when the silence stretched along with his nerves.
Unable to stand it any longer, he shuffled back towards the bottom of the stairs, clutching his parcel in one hand. He hefted himself backwards up the stairs, using his other hand and his good leg. He didn’t stop until he reached the top. As he felt his lungs scream at the lack of oxygen, he let out a breath.
He sucked in several gulps. Regaining his breath, he hefted himself up and staggered to his feet. He didn’t look down as he hopped to his bedroom door. He breathed in a sigh of relief when he hopped inside. His hope died that he would be able to escape when he heard the thunder of feet a second before he shut the door. He sagged when Aaden appeared at the top of the stairs, his face a mask of indifference as he handed him the crutches he’d left downstairs.
Throwing the parcel onto the bed behind him, he grabbed for the crutches. He didn’t say anything when Aaden didn’t immediately release them. He took a deep breath, bracing himself before he looked up at Aaden. He lifted a brow and waited.
Nick felt his lips twitch at Aaden’s antics. He watched Aaden’s face turn a bright fire engine red while his mouth moved, but nothing came out. He could practically see and hear the wheels turning in Aaden’s head before he spoke.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He saw Aaden flick a glance over his shoulder at his unmade bed and the parcel before he licked his lips and continued.
“I believe it’s a huge fad now for men to enjoy wearing pants like those.” His hand pointed behind him.
Nick cringed. “Stop, okay. You don’t need to do the whole big supportive brother thing. You better come in.” Nick motioned for Aaden to follow him.
He hopped to the bed, trying to figure out how best to talk about his preferences. He’d never really talked about his lifestyle with anyone other than those who chose to live it. He struggled how to start the conversation.
When Aaden sat next to him, after shutting the bedroom door, Nick licked his dry lips, moving so he could face Aaden.
“I’m not sure when I knew I was different, but I know it was before I understood what my cock was for. I was always drawn to pretty things, anything shiny.” Nick saw Aaden’s lips twitch and his eyes spark with laughter before he interrupted.
“Nick, come on, you’re worse than a magpie. If it was shiny, glittered, or was bright, you had to have it.”
“All right, yeah, yeah, I loved that stuff.”
Aaden’s raised brow had him give in.
“I still love anything bright, glittery, or shiny, okay. Happy now? Can I continue?”
Aaden’s nod had him giving him the finger. Ignoring the laughter, he continued.
“We never talked about our childhood. And now I’m thinking there was probably a reason for that, the whole fates shit. Anyway, you had your talking cat, and I had Christina.” Nick swallowed the ball of disgust he felt at how she had manipulated him. He pushed on. “She would pop in and out of my life when I was having some sort of crisis. How she always knew was beyond me. But there she would be, encouraging me to give up my soul so she could take over my life. Only she wanted me to go a step further…”
Nick raised his hand to ward off the anger he could see simmering in Aaden’s dark eyes as he shot off the bed faster than a speeding bullet. His large shoulders rolled as he paced in front of Nick, his hands clenched at his side.
“Please, sit. You’re making me nervous.” His quiet plea had Aaden turn towards him. His body vibrated with what Nick assumed was rage. But he did as he asked and sat next to him.
Nick choked back a sob when Aaden took his hand and held it firmly in his. The nod and look of encouragement he could see on his face had him sniff loudly.
“I need you to let me finish and get it all out, okay?” The quick warm squeeze to his fingers had him continue. “I was confused as a child about who and what I was. For a while, I wondered if maybe I was a girl inside. I did a lot of research, and as I got older, I found it was common to have some of these feelings.”
Nick shrugged.
“That dick from the other night was right. I am fem. And I’ve come to terms with that. I’m gay and not transgender, though for a long time, I thought I was. I’ve had several years of counselling, and I’m happy with who I am. Most of the time…” Nick flicked a quick look at the parcel now sitting at his side. “The underwear, Aaden, it’s not a fad. It never has been for me. It’s what I like, the feel of the silk against my skin.” Aaden’s pinched brow had him grinning. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
Nick felt his early blush heat his cheeks again when Aaden gave him a considering look before laughing and shaking his head. Aaden’s antics had his shoulders relax.
“I’m not knocking it or you. You, like every other hot-blooded male, has a kink or two. Whatever floats your boat. It’s your choice whatever that may be. And God help me, Greg has decided what ours will be.”
Aaden’s chuckle and stained cheeks had Nick punch his arm.
“You can’t wait. Don’t give me that. I heard how energetic you were after Greg discussed it with you. Fuck, I thought I was going to be scarred for life if you didn’t make it into the bedroom before you ripped off his clothes.”
Aaden’s booming laughter had the bed vibrate as Nick shifted to get up. He stilled when Aaden spoke.
“I know we got diverted from talking about Christina, but we will be having that conversation and soon. But before we do, you need to talk to Brody. You can’t pretend nothing happened downstairs. Fuck, I thought his jaw was going to hit the floor while you were scrabbling about trying to tuck your precious…”
“Aw, please don’t make references to fucking Gollum and the Lord of the Rings. You’ll mess with my head. I’ll be bloody hearing him saying ‘my precious’ every time I put on a pair.” Nick shuddered. He couldn’t bear thinking about it as Aaden bellowed out a laugh, tears running down his cheeks.
“Hey, do you mind? You’re not supposed to be laughing at me. And I’m not going to talk to Brody about my lifestyle choices. It’s got fuck all to do with him what I wear or who I wear it for.”
Why should it when Brody has a boyfriend?
The silent question hung between them as he eyed Aaden. He sucked his lip between his teeth, biting it.
“When’s he leaving anyway?” He wanted to take back the question the minute it was out. Aaden’s brow shot up under his hair. An impregnable silence fell for a minute as he waited Aaden out.
“He hasn’t said. I think he’s staying until the New Year. Brad came Thursday when you were sulking up here after your clinic appointment, and I invited him for Christmas. He’s agreed, but after that, I’ve no clue. He’s not been very forthcoming.”
Nick could hear the concern in Aaden’s voice. It had his stomach clench. He watched as Aaden’s gaze wandered to the door as he carried on.
“He’s got some shit going on that he’s not talking about. I’m not sure what’s got into him. That weirdness at the hospital and before that. It’s not like him. He’s acting odd, and I can’t fathom out why or what’s got him all of a tizzy.”
Nick stilled, trying to act casual when his heart wanted to burst out of his ches
t.
Was it because of me?
The kiss?
Remember he has a boyfriend, you duffus. Yes, how could I forget that bombshell?
A hand waved in front of his face, Nick blinked, realising too late he’d zoned out. “Sorry, what did you say?” He gave a sheepish grin. He prayed the heat moving up his neck would stop when Aaden gave him a quizzing look.
“I said, let’s go out and get some food. I haven’t bothered to do a shop, so there’s nothing in. I have been avoiding doing it in the hope Greg would do it.”
Aaden shrugged his shoulders, looking crestfallen. Nick chuckled.
“I thought maybe we could go to Greg’s while we’re out. You know, just check to see if he needs anything.”
The hopeful smile Aaden gave him registered. Nick sucked his lips into his mouth as he looked down. He dusted off his dirty pants, avoiding looking at Aaden.
Shitting hell, this was all he needed.
He hid a smile behind a cough. He remembered the picture Greg made last night when he’d arrived. Brad, Joe, and he had all frozen to the spot. Their gazes fixed on Greg. Nick was at a total loss for words when his eyes grew, filling his face as he took in Greg.
Greg sat in a dark blue fluffy onesie with a morose expression on his face. Two hours and however many layers of skin later, they were told Greg now resembled a bright orange orangutan.
Gemma ushered them to the black leather sofa, getting drinks as she constantly referred to Greg as “Greg faketantastic.” Which, when she’d pulled out her phone, explained why. The catalogue of pictures showed just how bad it had been before they’d arrived.
Gemma’s raucous laugh had him focus on the picture on her phone, and he pulled his gaze from Greg, where it had been fixed since he arrived.
“Oh, look at this one. This was the first one, but you have to remember he’d already showered and attempted to wash the tan off.” Gemma’s tinkling laugh, he noticed, had Greg slouch further down onto the sofa while he nursed a large yellow cocktail. Gemma had called it a “lemon fizz,” saying she’d made yellow to make sure it didn’t clash with his skin.
Nick swiped the phone out of Gemma’s hand to get a closer look. “I can’t believe you didn’t read the instructions, Greg. Or should that be destructions”—Nick chuckled at his own joke—“before you put that shit on your skin.” He flicked his eyes back to the phone. Nick eyes goggled at the large piece of pale skin that stood out against the orange when he got to the picture of Greg’s back.
He sucked in the laughter as he handed the phone to a sober Brad, who was the designated driver. Nick chuckled at the wide-eyed expression Brad wore before he handed the phone to Joe. The laughter filled the small room, drowning out the music playing from the TV.
“That’s right. Laugh it up. You wait. It’ll be one of you next. Haven’t you noticed we seem to be having one disaster after another?” Greg’s wail silenced them all.
The words rang in Nick’s head as he turned, looking at the split parcel, and sighed. Greg, it would seem, wasn’t far off. He roused himself when Aaden carried on about wanting to go and see Greg. He swore, remembering his promise to stop Aaden from getting anywhere near Greg until he was at least down to a mild glow of orange.
Gemma had done some research while they’d got sloshed on homemade cocktails. She was off today, so she was going to help carry on with project “de-orange Greg.”
Nick pinched his leg to stop the laughter from bubbling out. He could still see the orange of Greg’s skin when he closed his eyes. He’d been brighter than a brilliant orange sunset. He fucking glowed, for God’s sake. How he thought Aaden wouldn’t notice is beyond me.
He let that worry go, realising it wasn’t his problem. No, his problem was to stop Aaden from seeing Greg today. Chewing his lip, he gave Aaden a surreptitious look under his lashes.
“Okay, Aaden, I’m happy to come shopping with you. But I have a few bits and pieces I need to buy as well. Oh, and I need to collect a few other things I’ve ordered. You could help me carry my shit because you know”—Nick pointed to his gammy leg—“I can’t do much or carry anything.” He could see Aaden’s resignation when he gave a half-hearted nod.
“Great, can you help me sort through this shit in here first? You know how I hate untidiness.” Nick hummed in satisfaction when Aaden got up and started piling stuff onto the bed to sort. Nick made sure to take his time, checking his watch slyly. Seeing it was only ten thirty, he sighed, knowing it was going to be a long day.
Max
Max stalked outside Nick’s bedroom door waiting for Aaden to reappear. He didn’t want to shout for him, not now he’d had a sudden increase in the voices inside his head. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him or why he felt off. Max’s eyes narrowed as he heard a bellow of laughter come through the door.
I’m glad someone is happy because I’m sure as hell not.
Max shook off his growing temper, hearing Brody move around downstairs. The sound of boots thumping up the stairs had him turn. He watched Brody reach the top of the stairs. He gave Nick’s door a fleeting glance before his lips tightened and he stalked to the bedroom he was using. His powerful legs flexed in his jeans, and his arms bulged in the tight confines of his sage-green T-shirt as he pushed open the door. Max caught the unhappy scowl before the door was shut with quiet restraint.
The lack of acknowledgement from Brody had the tension he’d been feeling for days appear. Max surveyed the two closed doors.
Is this all to do with Brody and Nick?
The increase in noise inside his head at the question had him wanting to bang it on the ground. He wished he could take it off and set it to one side.
Why did I ever wish to get the voices back?
He’d avoided everyone, including Christina, but it got him no closer to making a decision. And now, it would seem, Princess’s mother has a planned meeting with King Manannán. His source couldn’t tell him why he’d agreed to see her, only that he’d seemed pissed that she was insisting, saying it was a matter of urgency.
Had someone spilt the beans to Princess about Christina?
He knew Aaden would never betray his trust, and he was pretty sure Greg hadn’t said anything. His thoughts were louder than a fog horn. There was no way he could keep them quiet, even if he tried. That left Brad, and he supposed he’d have good reason to snitch on him. He didn’t think he would when he had solemnly promised to keep it a secret till he’d made a decision. A decision his mind was finding harder to work through than a washing machine at full spin.
Max felt the air swirl, lifting his fur. He shuddered. His body bowed as the air shimmered, moving faster than it should. He blinked owlishly, struggling to understand how he was teleporting when he’d done nothing to provoke it.
His mind came into sharp focus. His ears pinned back against his head, and his whiskers twitched as he stared into the fathomless eyes of King Manannán.
The Goddess Freyja, what now!
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true friends gave to me:
The fight club and the voyeurs
Brad
Christmas Eve
Brad clenched his hands, and his knuckles cracked. Unaware, he faced off with Martin. “It was your bloody idea to have a Christmas party in our home. So you can get your tight backside into the shower and come downstairs. Then you can bloody well help me. You’ve avoided doing anything for days. In fact, you’ve been avoiding me. Well, it fucking stops today. I’m not having my first Christmas with you ruined.” Brad hated the whine in his voice and the fact that his hands wanted to tremble when Martin stepped off the treadmill.
The dark patches of sweat coating the grey vest showed how hard he’d been working out. His muscles gleamed under the soft lights he must have switched on to combat the darkness of the sky outside the window. A sky that resembled Brad’s mood: stormy, dark, and brooding. He hated feeling like this because it reminded him too much of his past, and he didn’t want that sitting between
him and Martin.
He wanted to wring both Nick’s and Joe’s neck for talking him into this stupid situation. He ignored the little voice that told him he’d known fine well what he was getting into when he’d started the fight.
Brad lost his train of thought when Martin’s hot stare pinned him to the spot. Brad struggled to maintain eye contact. He clenched his fists. His bravery seemingly wanted to take a back seat under the hard, unwavering gaze of his fiancé. His gaze faltered. Instead, Brad followed the path of the sweat dripping down Martin’s face and neck. It soaked the neck of his top. Brad licked his dry lips. His tongue tingled, anticipating the taste of sweat on it.
Brad gulped. He gave an internal sigh of disgust, not sure if his face had betrayed him. He stepped back at the gleam in Martin’s azure eyes when he swiped the towel off the weight bench next to his leg. Brad understood exactly what the predatory glint meant. And it would seem, so did his cock when it sprung to attention as if saluting its captain.
This not having sex for days was playing havoc with his head. Days he’d been waiting for Martin to beg for forgiveness so he could pounce, but had the fucker? No. Instead, he’d waltzed around the house pretending there was nothing wrong.
He was acting all hoity-toity, sleeping in the spare room, playing cat and mouse with him and his emotions to the point Brad was starting to lose faith in Joe’s assurance that withholding would work. As far as he could see, all it had done was to give him blue balls. Oh, and how could he forget the urge to take hold of his throbbing cock and show Martin exactly what he wanted from those plush luscious lips of his.
Brad’s hands twitched at his sides at the thought. He knew if he showed any sign of weakness, Martin would be on him faster than white on rice.
So, where does that leave me?
