by H. M. Wolfe
“Oh, c’mon, Pater.” The kid started to laugh, a sound of pure joy. “Poor Benji and Armand!” Then, his expression became serious. “I admire them, Doctor Stark and the others from the Institute so much. The serums and treatments they create help so many people! I want to be like them one day,” he continued, eyes shining with enthusiasm.
“You will. I have no doubt about it.” Alasdair kissed Lorcan on the top of his head. “You already took the first steps on that path. I’m so proud of the progress you make every day!”
“Spitfire’s right.” Ardan smiled radiantly, leaving his seat and hugging his son. “But you need to work, and also sleep a lot if you want to succeed.”
“I understand, so I’m going to hit the pillow. My best friend must also get some sleep. He must be exhausted.” Lorcan nodded, giving Alasdair a sympathetic look.
The kid took a shower, changed for the night, then waited to be tucked in. As soon as Ardan finished eating, cleaning the table and washing the dishes, he went to his son’s room, closely followed by the redhead, who could barely keep his eyes open but didn’t want to miss the evening ritual.
Alasdair wasn’t doing that to impress his lover, although he’d noticed how the man’s eyes shone every time the redhead joined him for that evening routine. He really loved Lorcan, his innocent, polite ways, the consideration, compassion and respect he treated all those around him, but also the mischievous side that manifested from time to time.
The thirteen-year-old wrapped his arms around each of the men’s necks as they kissed him goodnight on the forehead, Alasdair getting more attention and a greater number of kisses. That earned him an eye roll from his father to the great amusement of the ‘competition.’ As they were closing the door of their own bedroom, Ardan softly nudged the redhead in the side.
“What did I do?” the younger man said, feigning innocence.
“How comes my son loves you more than me? What did you do to deserve it?” his lover growled lowly, kissing him lightly on the lips.
“I’m a natural charmer, baby. No one can resist me; they don’t even try to.” Alasdair grinned cutely, making Ardan smile and kiss him some more.
“Well, one thing is sure, I couldn’t resist you,” the older man mumbled against the redhead’s cheek. “I gave you my heart and soul, and you took care of them, healed them and taught me what real love is. Let me take care of your tired body tonight, my Spitfire,” Ardan whispered, starting to peel off the redhead’s shirt.
“Mmm, a bath would be nice,” Alasdair hummed in approval, leaving himself completely in the hands of his lover.
“A bath it will be, my love, and then a massage for this poor, tense back of yours.” Ardan placed a few butterfly kisses along the redhead’s spine, making him shiver.
“And cuddling with the most loving, gentle, handsome man in the world, who happens to be my boyfriend.” Alasdair stretched his hands above the head while the other man filled the tub with warm water.
Ardan went back into the room, finished undressing the redhead, then taking Spitfire in his strong arms, placed him in the bathtub with care, like he was some fragile, precious artifact. With slow, gentle moves, the older man covered his lover’s back, arms and chest with soap, then moved to his supple, muscular legs and genital area.
Once there, Ardan washed every inch with care, his touches barely there, innocent, without any sexual innuendo. Alasdair let a huge sigh of relief because he was so drained that if his lover had wanted to do something in that direction, both of them would end up frustrated because of his incapacity to finish it off.
Ardan rinsed the soapy water off the redhead’s still boyish but also a little manly, well-proportioned, perfectly modeled body. The combination of barely visible but ripped muscles and soft lines was perfectly balanced, making the older man gulp every time his eyes slid up and down his Spitfire’s naked form.
Finally, Ardan extracted the redhead from the tub, energetically rubbing his skin with the fluffy towel until it turned a delightful shade of pink. By the time he’d finished and carried Alasdair back into the bedroom, the younger man was completely relaxed in a state of pure bliss. The skillful hands of his boyfriend, roaming all over his back, working the massage oil into his tense muscles intensified that sensation, making him almost purr.
Ardan helped the redhead into a pair of his own pajamas, wrapped the blanket around him, then started to massage his feet, relieving more tension. Soon, the light snore coming from Alasdair’s direction was a sure sign he’d already fallen asleep. The shadow of a smile playing on his lips, Ardan climbed on the bed, pulled the cover over him, too, spooning his Spitfire from behind. Soon, he drifted asleep too.
CHAPTER 20
The man was walking down the street, carefully looking at the houses and the numbers on them, obviously looking for a particular address. A newly renovated house said the lady at the diner where he’d seen the advert, but so far, all the buildings looked either abandoned or neglected. The architect in him was hurting at the sight of some of them because they had an enormous amount of potential.
Sighing heavily, the man moved his bag from one shoulder to the other and adjusted the backpack’s straps. The house couldn’t be very far, he thought, seeing the end of the street, just as the woman said. Speeding up the pace a little but keeping an eye on the houses, the man started to do a short recap of what the diner owner told him about his future landlord.
Leon Stanley was in his early to mid-thirties, the son of a deceased Navy veteran, disciplined and a good fighter himself with a heart of gold. He worked as chief security for a media tycoon, one Eugene Boormann, and was in charge of guarding the man, his husband and their numerous children.
Also, Leon was a skilled handyman, turning his house from the ruin it once was into a splendid edifice with his own two hands. But the greatest quality of the man, at least in the eyes of the diner’s owner, was the compassion he showed to the two teenage boys he took care of. First, it was the little redhead with a big mouth, whose name she couldn’t remember for the life of it.
Then, Leon saved poor Ezra, brought him home and nursed him back to health. He was now a courageous, multi-awarded investigative journalist, forming an invincible team with his boyfriend, Peyton. The other kid, the redhead, was studying to become a brain surgeon and, together with a bunch of friends, saved kids from dire situations.
At that point, close to his destination, the man sighed audibly, thinking that his poor Alasdair could’ve used the help of that redhead and his friends. Maybe, just maybe, if his son hadn’t started using drugs after his father had gone missing and thought the man was dead. One thing was sure, Allen hadn’t made any effort to keep his brother clean, to talk to him, in spite of him claiming the contrary.
Finally, Tyler Flemming spotted the house, and it was exactly like the lady described it. Climbing the steps to the porch, the man inhaled sharply, hoping the life he was starting to build in New York was to be a good one. There was nothing for him in Seattle, not even his beloved Alasdair’s grave because Allen said they buried him in a mass grave with other unidentified bodies.
Tyler would have asked that cold-hearted, selfish, insensible son of his more questions, but his soul was already aching too much at the thought of losing his dearly beloved child. When he rang the doorbell, he knew there was no way back, sensed that his life was in New York from then on.
“Yes?” Tyler flinched at the sight of the young man, totally not expecting to see him there. “Who are you?”
“Hello, I came because of the advert at the diner, the one saying you have a room to let. Is Leon Stanley home?” Tyler spoke in a soft voice because everything about the young man screamed vulnerability.
“No, he’s not. I don’t know when he’s coming back, and I can’t let you inside. I’m sorry,” the answer came as the door was about to close in his face.
“Is everything alright, Dar-Dar?” another young voice spoke from inside the house. Seconds later, a brown-haired m
an in his early twenties appeared in the doorway. “Who are you?”
“He said something about wanting to speak to Leon about the room he wants to let. Tell me, Arnett, please,” the first young man spoke.
“Mid to late forties, some burning scars on his face, short cropped, rusty-red hair, deep-green eyes, six foot three, body constitution similar to Leon’s, non-threatening attitude. I’d say he can be trusted.”
“It’s alright,” the young man called Dar-Dar said, after listening intently to the other one’s voice, “you can come inside. Arnett will show you to the room.”
“Thank you very much.” Tyler smiled, stepping inside once Darien freed the way. “You have quite a nice place here,” he continued, looking around the hallway.
“It’s also very spacious,” Arnett said, “laid on a very solid foundation, excellently structured. The outside walls are made of brick, which is resistant but also breaths, so the condensation is little to none. What?” he cut himself short, seeing the smile on Tyler’s face.
“It’s a real pleasure for me to meet a future architect who’s made for the job, so dedicated to assimilating the right knowledge. You have my deepest, most sincere admiration, young man.” The man extended his hand.
“Thank you very much.” Arnett blushed, accepting and shaking it. “Actually, it’s construction engineering, but as Theodore, my employer, often says, the two of them go hand in hand.”
“That Mister Theodore is a very wise man,” Tyler replied, the smile never leaving his face, “one I’d like to meet. Is he an architect?”
“Yes, a hell of a good one. Together with his brother, Hugo, he owns ‘Van Houten New York Constructions.’ It was established in Boston, but they decided to move the headquarters here. They offered me and my fiancé’s cousin entry-level jobs inside the company and the possibility to practice as my studies progress.”
Tyler let out a small gasp as he followed Arnett upstairs to the room that once belonged to Ezra. The gods truly smiled down on him when he’d made the decision to leave Seattle and start afresh in New York City. A place to live, and maybe also the possibility of a job was more than the man needed, than he hoped for.
Once inside, Tyler couldn’t help but admire the judicious way the space was divided to include the bathroom, so the occupant could have the much-needed privacy. Judging by the furniture and other accessories, it belonged to one of the teens the lady at the store told him about. Whoever bought the items and created the layout must’ve loved the kid very much, he smiled inwardly.
“Here’s the bathroom. A little cramped because the space was so small. However, Leon did wonders with it if you ask me,” Arnett said in a pride-filled voice.
“Indeed. He is a man of many talents, very good with his hands and with a great perspective.” Tyler nodded in approval. “I like it very much. You can tell your friend he already has a tenant. I’ll discuss with him about the rent and everything else, but he doesn’t have to worry, I’m a man of my word.”
“Look, Mister, before we go further with this, I have to tell you something,” Arnett said in a firm, somehow harsh voice, the change surprising Tyler. “We are gay, all of us, so if you are offended, better take your bigot, homophobic self out of this house.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t worry about that,” the man spoke in a light-hearted voice. “My younger son came out at twelve, and I loved him the same as before if not more. I miss him a lot. I’m sure the two of you would’ve been good friends.”
“What happened to your son? I noticed you used past tense when you spoke about him,” Arnett asked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
“He died of a drug overdose, and it was all my fault. I was presumed dead in a devastating fire, but I had just passed out, and they rescued me in time. However, my face was totally destroyed, and my left leg totally compromised. Not wanting to come back home like that and be a burden for my sons, I spent the next three and a half years in a Canadian hospital until they fixed me. When I finally came home, I only found my eldest, so I left.”
“That’s... I’m very sorry.” Arnett hugged the man tightly. “I never met my parents, but my fiancé’s godfather and later all his relatives showed me kindness and affection, teaching me what family is all about. Which brings us to the other point of our discussion.”
“Sure, son, go ahead,” Tyler said without realizing, the word coming out naturally.
“I don’t know if you figured out, but Darien, the one who opened the door, is blind. Usually, he has an acute sense of orientation, but the medicines make him a little confused sometimes. It won’t be for long, only for a couple of weeks, as he is scheduled to undergo brain surgery.”
“But in the meantime, he will need help around the house as discreetly as possible. You can count on me for that.” Tyler smiled. “It will be a great pleasure.”
The two shook hands once again, then went downstairs, where to the man’s pleasant surprise, a little group of young men in their early twenties or maybe younger were gathered, laughing and eating freshly baked donuts from an enormous brown paper bag. One of them was wrapped in a thin blanket, cuddling on the couch, a mug of tea in hand while the others sat on the comfortable chairs.
The laughter didn’t stop when Arnett and Tyler stepped into the room, on the contrary. One of the young men with pitch-black hair and beautiful, intense blue eyes, threw himself in Arnett’s arms, climbing him like a tree to the other one’s amusement. A man, older than the rest of the crew, appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a lot of mugs on it.
“Let me help you, son. That must be very heavy.” Tyler offered, taking it from the man’s hands and placing it on the coffee table. “My name is Tyler Flemming. You must be Leon, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Mister Flemming.” The man shook his hand. “And yes, you guessed right. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here for the room. Arnett already showed it to me, and I liked it very much, so if you want me as your tenant...”
“I think he’s a good, reliable, trustworthy man,” Darien intervened. “I didn’t let him into the house without someone else around, but after Arnett described him, and also judging by his voice...”
“Well, since my precious Dar-Dar trusts you and my friend here showed you around, the deal is sealed. Now, let me introduce you to the other members of the crazy bunch.” Leon grinned. “Here are Hayden, Ezra, Peyton, Justin and Marcus. You already met Arnett, Hayden's fiancee and one of my Dar-Dar's best friends. The resident yeller is busy, but I’m sure you’ll meet him one of these days, and you’re going to like him.”
“That boy is impossible.” Ezra rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of him calling my ass skinny. I mean, come on.” He feigned revolt, shaking said ass.
“He’s right, brother, your ass is skinny.” Justin winked, earning himself a murderous glare from the other black-haired man. “On a more serious note, our Spitfire is a great guy and a genius neurosurgeon. In spite of being the same age as the rest of us, he has already assisted with a lot of complicated brain surgeries.”
“My poor son also dreamed of being a doctor,” Tyler said in a melancholy-filled voice. “Unfortunately, he left this world too early before the dream could come true.” Hearing the young men calling their friend Spitfire, his heart ached, thinking about his poor Alasdair, who earned himself that nickname when he was a small child.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Peyton gently touched the man’s shoulder, giving him a compassionate look. “I also think you would like the Spitfire. He is brilliant, hard-working, dedicated, always putting the others first... Leon helped him a great deal with school expenses and everything else...”
“I heard a lot about that.” Tyler nodded. “You, my friend, are the celebrity of the neighborhood. Everyone admires you.” He turned to Leon, who was sitting next to Darien, pulling the young man into a tight embrace.
Leon didn’t reply to the older man’s words, just blushed a little, absently caressing his beloved D
ar-Dar’s cheek. For the millionth time over the last three years, he blessed Francesco Della Rovere’s memory, grateful for the valuable lessons he learned from that saint of a man. By following Francis’s teachings, Leon gained a lot of friends and managed to earn the respect and admiration of those around him.
Above all, he had the opportunity to save himself through the love Alasdair and later Ezra showed him. The boys had for their protector a pure, unadulterated brotherly affection, completely trusting him. And through Peyton, who spent a lot of late evenings in that house, first as the Spitfire’s friend, then as Ezra’s boyfriend for the past year, Leon was going to be an uncle.
“Hey, bro, I have something to ask you if that’s alright.” The black-haired man’s voice brought him back to reality. “It’s about Peyton.”
“Sure, go on,” Leon said, a little worried. “I hope everything is fine with the baby.” He started to feel a little agitated.
“Everything is alright, no need to worry,” Ezra said, smiling shyly. “We just want to ask you if we could move into one of the spare bedrooms here, downstairs? We could move into the apartment complex, but if something happened with Peyton, there would be no one to see and help them, while here...”
“I can take care of them both if you agree,” Tyler said in the same melancholic voice. “I was there for my beloved wife through two pregnancies, and the second one was a little more challenging than the first.”
“Well, we have a volunteer.” Leon grinned. “Of course, I agree. It means Dar-Dar will have company while recovering after the surgery. Besides, you, Peyton and Spitfire are like siblings to me.” The man smiled affectionately.
“There is one more thing we would like to ask you.” Ezra violently blushed. “We would like you to... it would be a great honor if you and Darien would accept being our baby’s godfathers.”
“What? I mean, the honor would be mine.” Leon’s eyes were shining with joy, brimmed with tears that threatened to spill. “But are you sure the others wouldn’t mind?” he added, worriedly.
