by J P Sayle
Aaden kept his fake expression in place when Greg looked crestfallen. Seeing his lower lip wobble, he found he couldn’t pretend any longer. He burst out laughing. “If you could see your face, my redheaded beauty.”
Aaden choked on the laughter when Greg launched himself onto his chest, smearing cum over him and the sheets.
“Of course, I have other gifts for you.” As Aaden spoke, he held Greg against his chest, rolling them both towards the bedside drawers. Reaching out, he opened the bottom drawer and lifted out the tiny flat square box he’d hid yesterday, before he’d gone to the party.
The partially closed curtains allowed the soft mid-morning sunlight to filter through the gap. The light shimmered over Greg’s body, letting Aaden to see the orange disaster that was his boyfriend.
Does it make a difference to me?
Aaden already knew the answer.
Not a cat in hell’s chance does it.
It made not a blind bit of difference to him either that the feelings whelming inside him were not solely his. He loved with not only his soul but with the soul of another. And wasn’t that the most marvelous thing?
He shifted back, leaning against the cream headboard. He settled Greg across his legs until he straddled his thighs. He wanted to see his reaction, to know Greg wanted what he wanted. The two days they were apart had been torturous, and though it had only been weeks since they’d declared their feelings, Aaden wanted Greg with him, now and always.
He took a deep breath, offering the wrapped box to Greg.
Greg felt the air around them shift with a sense of knowing, he was learning to understand, meant something big was about to happen. His hand shook as he took the offered box from a silent and watchful Aaden. His dark onyx eyes seemed to glow brightly, even though they were black.
Greg tried to keep his thoughts to himself, hoping he wasn’t projecting his anxiety as he tore into the wrapping paper. He laughed breathlessly when he couldn’t get into the present with the amount of sellotape that had been used.
“Are you sure you want me to open this? Fuck. Aaden, what did you do? Use the whole roll of sellotape?” Greg giggled when Aaden eyed him as he stuck the box between his teeth and chewed on the tape. He finally managed to get a corner loose so he could pull off the remaining blue sparkly wrapping paper. He felt his excitement grow when he lifted the lid of the small brown box.
His eyes flew up from the contents of the box, his mind trying to register what his eyes were telling him. His mouth opened, then closed.
He gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed furiously when Aaden gave him a slow smile and a nod of his head, answering the unspoken question.
“You want me to move in?” It wasn’t enough; Greg needed to hear the words. And yes, he knew he must have made Aaden’s head hurt with the shout of joy he’d let rip in his head. But he couldn’t find it in him to give two shits. He was beyond happy right now, and he didn’t care who knew.
“Yes. The last couple of days without you were dreadful, knowing you were close, but that I wasn’t going to be able to see you. No. I can’t live like that.” Aaden struggled not to choke on his riding emotions when Greg’s sky-blue eyes brimmed with joy. “Anyway, it’s probably the only way to stop you covering your skin in that crap and making you glow brighter than Saturn.”
Aaden’s words were buried under Greg’s mouth when he launched himself at his boyfriend.
Greg smothered Aaden in giggly kisses. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Even if you’re a cheeky sod. Though you could be right about saving me from future disasters. I’m not sure Gemma would speak to me again if she had to scrub me down once more.”
Quicker than a flash Greg was rolled onto his back with Aaden hovering over him.
“What do you mean?” Aaden’s growl had Greg’s cock take notice.
“Well, someone had to help get that crap off my…”
Aaden held up his hand, stopping him. “Are you telling me it looked worse than this?” Aaden pointed to his chest, which was particularly bad.
Greg gave a mournful sigh.
He pointed to his phone sitting on the far side of the bed where he’d laid it last night. “If you’re feeling brave, you can have a look. But I warn you. You aren’t getting your key back.”
Aaden’s eyes widened. His brows shot up under his hair right before a deep furrow appeared between his eyes. He laid his forehead against Greg’s. “God help me.”
Greg giggled when all Aaden did was kiss him instead of reaching for the phone. He allowed himself to get lost in the kiss.
Greg growled in disappointment when someone pounded at the bedroom door. “If we stay quiet, maybe they’ll go away,” he whispered.
“Get your lazy backsides out of bed. Come on. I made a big Christmas breakfast for us all on the poxy two-ringed cooker. So the least you can do is come and eat it.”
Brody’s husky voice filtered through the door, causing Aaden to roll off him and Greg to grumble when Aaden pulled on his navy sweatpants and grey T-shirt.
Aaden shouted back that they’d be there in five as he urged Greg out of the warm nest of their bed. He turned his back as Greg wiped at the dried cum on his arse, stomach, and legs. Aaden choked back a chuckle when Greg muttered about ingrates. He watched Greg’s flexing backside sway as he walked to the wardrobes. Not needing anymore temptation, Aaden left the room.
He knocked on Nick’s door before turning the handle. Surprised when he found it locked. He knocked harder. “Nick. Nick, you all right in there?”
He waited, listening for any signs of life.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Nick stumble to the door, unlocking it. The unruly bed hair and dark circles under his eyes had him step closer, peering down at him. “What’s up, bro?” As he spoke, he registered Nick’s lack of crutches and orthopedic boot.
“Fuck, Nick. What are you trying to do?” He lifted Nick up without thinking, stalking back into his tip of a bedroom. He saw the discarded boot and crutches lying on the floor.
He dumped Nick onto the unmade bed and stalked towards the crutches. Aaden stilled when Nick’s sleepy voice penetrated past his concern.
“Christina fixed it. See, it’s as good as new.”
Aaden was too busy focusing on Nick that he missed when Brody walked through the open door, just in time to hear Nick and watch him bounce on his clearly unbroken foot.
Aaden caught sight of Brody. He cursed silently at the flabbergasted expression on Brody’s face. Aaden’s hand moved to his stomach when it clenched.
Aaden did what he always did when a situation like this arose. He shouted for Max. He wanted to sigh out loud, knowing this was not going to be good for any of them.
How the fucking, shitting hell am I going to explain this one?
When Greg charged into the bedroom, Aaden sent him an apologetic look. He realised too late he must have shouted more loudly than he’d thought if the glower Greg threw at him was anything to go by.
Everyone seemed to halt at once when Brody broke the silence.
“What the fuck is going on here? Can someone explain to me who Christina is and how the hell she can fix broken bones?” The softly spoken questions were laced with steel as Brody stood tall, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes before he finally landed his flinty glare on Aaden.
Aaden gave him a “not now” look when he saw Nick’s panic start to take over. His small chest heaved as he struggled to draw in a breath. Aaden went to move, but Brody beat him to it. Aaden felt his brow furrow. This was the second time he’d had to contend with Brody fighting to take over where Nick was concerned.
Aaden chewed his lip, giving both men his full attention. He’d never considered using his gift on either man before, seeing it as a breach of trust. Yet sensing the tension now filling the room, he was tempted. The warm hand on his arm had him look at Greg, who shook his head. The internal “don’t you dare” had him move his gaze back to the bed, where Brody clasped Nick in his lap, not letting him escape. Not
that Nick was fighting him.
Feeling uneasy at the sudden shift in his best friend’s and brother’s relationship, Aaden took comfort from Greg’s reassuring grip. “Brody, let Nick go.” His harsh command was met with an arched brow.
“No. Not until I get some answers from squirt. Go down and eat the breakfast I’ve made. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
The plea in Brody’s voice and eyes had Aaden stepping back when Nick lowered his head in defeat.
Aaden hesitated.
“It’s okay, Aaden. Go. I’ll be fine. I won’t let out any secrets.”
Brody’s head shot round to pin Aaden with a hostile glare. Aaden held up his hands when it looked as if Brody was going to drop Nick and pick a fight with him. Needing to calm the situation that seemed to be getting more out of hand, Aaden spoke up, “Listen, we’ll all go down for breakfast. Brody, you know there is something different about me. Well, if you stop glowering and looking like you want to rip my head off, I’ll explain. Just leave Nick to get dressed, and he’ll follow us downstairs.”
When it looked like Brody was going to argue, Nick placed his hand on Brody’s rigid arm. “I’ll be down in five minutes. Let me sort myself out. Then we’ll all explain what you’ve got mixed up with.”
The resignation in Nick’s voice had Aaden worry his lip. He followed the others downstairs, but not before he caught the defeated look that swam into Nick’s watery eyes.
He stomped downstairs. The noise made him feel slightly better. He shouted again for Max, only to have Greg shout back for him to stop shouting. He searched the house when he couldn’t find Max in the kitchen.
He growled as he walked back into the kitchen.
Where the fuck has he got to?
Aaden grabbed his mobile from the kitchen worktop and rang Brad. When Brad explained he couldn’t find Princess either, Aaden relaxed. “I bet the pair of them are off doing… stuff. Stuff I don’t want to even think about.” He felt reassured when Brad seemed to laugh at his worry. The request to come earlier at two pm for lunch had him grinning when his stomach gurgled at the thoughts of Brad’s planned meal. Ending the call, Aaden sent out a silent prayer their cats would be hungry enough to return for some food and soon.
Aaden chuckled at the thought of Max missing a meal.
His laughter died when Nick stepped into the kitchen without the hint of even a limp.
Show and tell. I’m so looking forward to this. Not.
Christmas Day
Brad swiped at his phone to end the call and tucked it into his back pocket of his Levi 501 jeans. Distractedly, he surveyed all the food spread out over the worktops. The scent of roasting turkey filled the kitchen but barely registered past the turbulent thoughts rolling around in his head.
He wasn’t as confident that Princess and Max were off doing “stuff” as Aaden put it. He wrung his hands, not sure how to voice his concern to Martin about what was happening with their cats and the ruddy witchy poo.
No longer preoccupied with thoughts of sex and last night, Brad had a feeling the other shoe was about to drop. He scratched the back of his neck when the feeling he’d missed something important wouldn’t let go. The fact that he hadn’t physically laid eyes on Princess in more than twenty-four hours had his pulse leading a merry dance along his veins and added to the misery that was his knotted stomach.
Again, his gaze landed on the food, but this time he wondered how he was going to be able to eat anything at all.
“Hey, baby. What’s put that frown on your gorgeous face this wonderful Christmas morning?” Martin’s voice was muffled as he buried his mouth into Brad’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin below his ear.
Martin felt the tension radiating from Brad’s rigid muscles. Not sure what was worrying Brad, Martin folded him into his arms. Holding him tight, Martin breathed in the sweet scent of cherries as Brad relaxed against him, laying his head into the crook of Martin’s neck.
“Princess. Who else?”
Martin tensed, sensing Brad’s sadness as he continued to talk.
“Aaden rang. It would seem that Max is missing, along with Princess. Only he thinks they’re up to no good. Or doing ‘stuff,’ as Aaden calls it.” Brad chuckled. “I think he means Percy filth, but hey, if he doesn’t want to think about his cat getting his rocks off, who am I to blame him when I don’t want to think about my Princess getting down and dirty with Max.”
Brad shuddered against Martin, drawing attention to how close they were. Martin shifted his hips back a little. He sensed Brad wasn’t up for another round of blistering sex this morning. Hell, Brad’s arse had to be sore after what they’d got up to when they’d finally got home last night.
Martin cursed his wayward thoughts. He willed his body to behave, forcing himself to focus on Brad’s anxious face. “Have you tried to call for Princess, like Aaden and Greg do? I know you’ve never really had that kind of relationship with Princess.” Martin had to stop talking when Brad’s lower lip poked out in a sulky pout. Martin counted to ten, hoping it would hold the laughter at bay. He knew his eyes were giving him away when Brad scowled up at him.
“Go on. Laugh. I know you want to. But it’s totally not fair that Aaden and Greg get to talk telepathically with Max. I calculated that I’ve had Princess longer than Aaden has been with Max. It’s so not fair that he can talk to his cat.” Brad huffed, blowing the curls on his forehead out of his eyes.
Stomping his foot, Brad barely missed Martin’s bare one.
He knew he was acting childishly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He pulled away from Martin and stalked back to the kitchen counters. Brad fiddled with the vegetables. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried that last night and again this morning? If she can hear me, then she is ignoring me. I have a bad feeling, Martin, that she knows about miss witchy poo’s offer to Max. And I also think she knows I know about it. That she is punishing me for not telling her.” His shoulders sagged under the weight of the secrets he’d kept from Princess.
Brad heard the thud before he realised he’d thrown the carrot he’d been holding at the wall.
“Hey, we’ll have less of that. I don’t have time to paint the walls if you decide to decorate them with food.”
The concern in Martin’s voice had Brad drop the cabbage he’d held in his other hand. Martin was right. They didn’t have time for this or for his moping. Not if he wanted to make a Christmas meal for eight people.
Brad sighed.
Dragging his hair away from his face, he pulled the elastic band on his wrist off, tying his hair into a man bun. Brad viewed the kitchen and calculated what was left to do. He was pleased he’d taken the time last evening to tidy up and move back the furniture. The Christmas decorations were still in place from the party, giving the room a festive feel. All that was needed was the table to be set. He batted his eyelashes at Martin, making sure to flash his dimples, even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
“I know your game.” Martin held up his hands as he spoke. “Okay, you win. What do you want me to do?”
The humour in his voice had Brad’s smile turn genuine. “If you start on setting the table, I’ll do the veg. Oh, and the plan of how it should look is in the top drawer of the cabinet over there. And can you put on some cheerful music. I need it.”
Brad pointed to the drawers next to the kitchen sink before he got to work peeling vegetables. The sounds of classic Christmas tunes filled the kitchen.
The mood lightened when Martin started to sing along with Slade. Brad had a moment of regret that Sarah wasn’t there to share this with him. Her friend had offered her a last-minute cancellation to a ski resort. As Sarah had spent months trying to get a booking, they’d both encouraged her to accept. They didn’t blame her for wanting to go away with friends, but he knew she’d be sorry to have missed her brother’s dancing and singing.
Brad chuckled watching Martin.
The tight black jeans and bright red jumper fitted his frame flawlessly. They showed
off his assets to perfection when Martin shimmied around the kitchen. His dark hair glowed under the soft sunlight pouring in behind him as he sang out of tune. The happiness evident in the sparkling depth of his azure eyes as they landed on Brad. The flirty wink had his lips twitch into a returning smile.
Brad got quickly back to work, his throat working hard to swallow the tears that had him sniffing. He may be upset because Princess wasn’t here, but it didn’t detract from the ball of emotions that sat in his chest. The weight so comfortable it was almost as if Martin had laid his own heart on top of Brad’s. He could almost feel the beat match his. Their love mingled and twined together, leaving him tethered in a way that no words could express.
He rubbed his misty eyes with the back of his hand, thanking whatever God there was for Martin. He rethought that when he considered his new-found friendships.
No, I’m grateful for all of it. Heck, how could I not be after last night!
Brad shifted his feet, jiggling his hips, hoping the swelling in his trousers would stop. He pushed the thoughts away that wanted to crowd his mind, forcing himself to continue to prep the food in front of him.
Brad got lost in the comfort of his kitchen, running from one task to another, making sure everything was perfect.
Checking the time, he hurried into the lounge and surveyed the room. He’d asked them all to come at two pm, and it was close to that now. He let the warmth of the room cloak him. Martin had lit the fire a couple of hours earlier, so the room was nice and warm, ready for their friends.
The dark greyness that had replaced the earlier sunlight offered little to no light to the room. Brad frowned, licking his teeth. He scurried around, lighting the candles that offered the smell of Christmas. Though how anyone could say that the cinnamon fragrance was the fragrance of Christmas was beyond him. Surely, it was whatever scent that reminded you of the ones you loved?