by Jerry Cole
“Thanks,” Sherman offered. He went to take a sip, but it was too hot. “So, Bradley? He’s still upstairs sleeping?”
“I have to say too, I’m glad I finally got a chance to meet you, dear – and I know, I know, with Covid it was all but impossible. But still, mothers. Right?” she chuckled to herself.
“They are something,” Sherman tried. He took a sip of his coffee now, waiting for Bradley’s mother to continue. When she didn’t, he dared to try again. “Would you mind if I just go upstairs and —”
“Not that I haven’t been bugging him about it anyhow,” she tittered. “The boy is as stubborn as me though. Anytime I mentioned it, he’d hang up the phone!”
Sherman gave up. For whatever reason – he assumed it was because she wanted to get to know him – Bradley's mother was being purposefully obtuse. It appeared that his only option was to wait until Bradley woke up. Lucky that Bradley’s mother was being so loud that he figured it wouldn’t be long.
So, he waited... and waited... and then waited a little longer. As he did so, Bradley’s mother chatted away merrily without a care in the world. There was no theme to the conversation, except to see how much could be said in as little time as possible.
After fifteen more minutes of this, Sherman decided it was time to try again. His coffee was finished, it was nearing 7am and he really, really wanted to speak to Bradley.
“Ms. Miles,” Sherman started. Bradley’s mother looked down her nose at him. “I mean, mom,” he corrected. “I would really love to speak with Bradley, sooner rather than later.”
“I bet you would!”
“Do you mind if I sneak into his room and wake him up – I’ll make sure to let him know you tried to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t do that, dear!” she looked almost insulted. “You’re free to go in all you like. But it won’t do you much good.”
Sherman was halfway out of his chair before he caught that last bit. “Huh? Why not?”
“Because,” she blinked a few times. “Bradley isn’t home.”
Sherman’s face dropped. “What?!” he shouted that, although it wasn’t on purpose. “What do you mean —”
“He’s in Sydney, dear. Flew in last night to see you. My guess is that the two of you must have missed one another – you can imagine my utmost surprise when I opened the door this morning to find you standing there, looking at me like a pelican. Deary me.” She tittered and shook her head at the memory.
As for Sherman? He didn’t know how to react. A part of him was furious; at Bradley’s mother for having carried on all morning knowing full well that Bradley wasn’t home and also at himself for not being home right now where Bradley almost certainly was. What was he doing here?!
Lucky then that there was also a part of him that was dancing for joy. The fact that Bradley had gone home to speak with him... surely, that was a good thing.
“I... I have to go!” Sherman was halfway across the room before Bradley’s mother intercepted him.
“I don’t think so.” She blocked his way like a brick wall.
“Huh?” Sherman balked. “But I —”
“Have to speak with my son, yes.”
“Right.” He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, “How am I supposed to do that when —”
“It’s called a phone, dear.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve been around for a while now.”
“I can’t call him!”
“Why not?”
“Because... because... I just —”
"I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes again. “You have this grand idea of some sort of romantic gesture, don’t you – the fact that you came all this way says so. My Bradles is the same. But take it from me, someone who was married thirty odd years. Grand gestures don’t do squat. Do you know what does?”
Sherman could barely speak he was so flabbergasted. Instead, he shrugged.
“Communication. That’s all. Simple, easy, communication. I suggest you try it sometime.” She smiled knowingly to herself. “You might be surprised by what you find.”
Sherman could have argued. Indeed, a part of him wanted to. But another part was tired, finished, worn the fuck out. It just wanted to get this whole thing over with so that everything could go back to normal. And so, with no real choice, and with Bradley’s mother watching him from the doorway, refusing to let him pass, Sherman pulled out his cell phone and did what he should have done a week ago. He called Bradley.
“Sherman!” Bradley answered immediately.
“Bradley!” Sherman responded as if just hearing the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, after all this time, was enough to wash away all that had happened over the last eight days.
“Where are you?!”
“Where the heck are you?”
“I’m at your apartment!”
“I’m at your mother’s house!”
“What are you doing there?!”
“What the — what are you doing there?!”
“I came here to see you!”
“I had to apologize!”
“This whole thing – I'm sorry!”
“No, I’m sorry!”
“You? Why are you sorry?”
“Of course I’m —”
“Don't you be sorry too. You have nothing —”
“This whole thing was me!”
“It was me.”
“I was selfish!”
“I was arrogant!”
“I lied!”
“I treated you like shit!”
“I’m sorry!”
“No, I’m sorry!”
They spoke over one another. They cut in. They tripped on words, stumbled on apologies, and stampeded through the other’s attempt to say sorry. By the time the two were done, Sherman wasn’t sure who had said what, who had gotten the first real apology in, or if it even mattered?
“Should we take a sec?” Sherman eventually offered with a light chuckle.
“I think so,” Bradley sighed on the other end of the line and Sherman could hear his entire body relax.
Sherman took a seat back at the kitchen counter. He was glad to see that Bradley’s mother was gone from the room, although he half suspected that she was in the next room listening in. Not that he cared. All that stress and anxiety he’d been feeling building over the past week was very quickly melting from him like snow under a summer sun. Bradley wasn’t mad at him. They still had a chance!
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Sherman spoke first this time. His tone was slow and deliberate so there could be no mistake that he was the one that had said it.
“Me too,” Bradley followed up with the same tone. “I’m —”
“No, it was all —”
“Can you let me finish this time?” he chuckled.
“Sorry. Go.”
“I’ve been acting like a fucking jerk lately,” he admitted. It sounded like it felt good to say out loud too. “Treating you like... I dunno. Like I thought I was better? I didn’t mean to but —”
“It wasn’t you,” Sherman cut in. “I made it about as hard for you as a person can – I was a fucking child.”
“You’d just lost your job.”
“That doesn’t excuse it,” he said. “And then there’s that whole thing with the cocaine.”
“Sherman...” Bradley started, but it didn’t sound like he wanted to continue. It was a touchy subject at best and might threaten to derail everything if Sherman didn’t say the right thing.
“No,” he warned. “I’ve got to – I’ve got to say this.” Sherman took a deep breath, then continued. “There’s no excuse for it – none. It was weak. It was shitty. And worst of all it was dangerous. For me and you. But I want to... I am getting better. I want to! It’s not like I enjoy being this way —”
“I know you don’t!”
“And starting today – right now, I promise that I will never, ever do anything like that again – I'll even ask you before I take sleeping pills if I have to,” he laughed, �
�If it comes to me having to choose between drugs and you... fuck, it’s not even a decision.”
Bradley didn’t say anything for a few moments. It was long enough that Sherman started getting worried. Was he weighing up what he thought? Trying to decide whether it was worth sticking around for?
“Bra —”
“Come home,” Bradley cut him off. “Come home, today. Now.”
Sherman could have cried he was so happy. Fuck, he did. Small wet beads begin to drip down his cheek and his chin wobbled uncontrollably. “What about the apartment, and everything I did?”
“We’ll figure that out when you’re back. I just want you back.”
It was all Sherman needed to hear. ‘I want you back.’ Honestly, had sweeter words ever been spoken? He had been terrified to speak to Bradley, sure that when he did, their fight would only get worse and it would lead to them breaking up. It had seemed like the most likely outcome. But now, after the fact... he honestly wondered what he had been so worried about.
He loved Bradley. He did. And Bradley loved him back. With that fact now tattooed in his mind, he realized how stupid he had been, how the whole previous week was for nothing. The two men were made for each other and one silly little fight wasn’t going to change that.
“Bradley,” Sherman suddenly started before Bradley could hang up.
“What now?” Bradley sighed through what sounded like light crying.
“I... I love you.”
He’d never said the words before. He’d wanted to, but always feared what the response would be. If Bradley didn’t say them back, it would have been the equivalent of a sharp knife driving itself through his heart. But right now, holding them in was also impossible.
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment Sherman thought his worst dreams were going to be realized. But then, “I love you too,” Bradley said softly. “Now, will you hurry up and come home.”
Bradley loved him. Bradley loved him. Bradley loved him. Sherman repeated the mantra over and over again, feeling so damn swollen with happiness that he thought he might just be able to fly right back to Sydney without a plane. Bradley loved him.
And what made it even better? He loved Bradley too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bradley could hear footsteps belonging to random members of the crew hustling outside the closed door. None ever came to a stop in front, but the number of times he heard a pair approach, suggested that sooner rather than later one would. On top of that, he could also hear the random shouting and yelling that was synonymous with all television and film sets; the shouting was in the distance, most likely on the sound stage and with nothing to do with him. But it was there, and it was somewhat distracting.
“What’s wrong?” Sherman asked, pulling his mouth free for just long enough to get the question out. As he did, a huge wad of saliva fell from his lips and splashed onto the floor by his knees.
“Nothing. Don’t stop.” Bradley ran his hand over Sherman’s head and then directed his boyfriend back to what he was doing. “Please don’t stop,” he groaned as Sherman went back to it.
Sherman tried to say something else, most likely a joke or sarcastic comment, but it came out as a series of muffled vowels and random sounds. It was hard to speak properly when your mouth was full of hard cock.
It was 1PM on a Tuesday, and the two men were in Bradley’s changing room waiting for his next scene to start filming. Bradley had been there all day, since well before sunrise, and it would be the same the next day and the day after that. Worse too that he was often forced to hang around until well after dark. But that’s what filming was like sometimes, a series of long, arduous days that never seemed to end. And truthfully, Bradley loved it.
Sherman however did not. And it wasn’t because he had no respect for Bradley’s work, or he thought Bradley was wasting his time, or any other number of reasons one might come up with for why spending twelve hours on set daily was an inconvenience. He simply hated it because it meant that he got less ‘Bradley time’ as he called it.
It was this small frustration that resulted in Sherman popping down nearly daily to say hello, drop off food, and really just make sure that everything was running smoothly for his one true love. Filming for Bradley’s show, Firing Day, had been going on for a month now and in those thirty days straight of work, Sherman had popped down on roughly twenty-five of them. Bradley loved it.
Today was like any other really. Bradley had started with the sunrise, giving Sherman a quick kiss as he climbed from bed and got ready. The morning shoots were always the worst as everyone was in a bad mood. But they pushed through them to lunch, which was always about an hour late. Bradley had only just sat down in his dressing room when his door flew open, and where he had assumed it would be Harmony telling him lunch was cut short today, he broke into a huge, unapologetic smile when it turned out to be Sherman.
“Hey, ho,” Sherman crooned as he strolled through the door. He had in one hand a single flower – from the looks of it, it was a pink rock lily, but Bradley wasn’t one hundred percent sure – and in the other he carried two Tupperware containers.
“There he is.” Bradley hadn’t been expecting him, not entirely anyway, but he hurried across the small room and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. “And he brought me a present.”
“To add to the collection.” Sherman moved across the room to the make-up table where a vase was already perched, one filled with roughly a dozen different colored flowers or varying size and style. He popped the new one into the bouquet and did a hasty re-shuffle so as to make them really pop.
“Pink rock lily?” Bradley asked.
“Dendrobium Kingianium,” Sherman had then corrected. He spun around and fixed Bradley with a wicked grin. “But yes, you peasants refer to it as a pink rock lily.”
Bradley rolled his eyes, but then he practically threw himself at Sherman so as to kiss him again. And not just a little peck, but a full-on, passionate kiss on the lips. It was one of those kisses that make on-lookers feel a little grossed-out when they see random couples doing them in public; one step removed from full on intercourse basically.
The flowers were a silly thing. On Bradley’s first day on set, he had been terribly nervous, much more than he’d expected. As a means to calm his nerves, Sherman had promised to visit him during lunch and that he would ‘bring a surprise.’ The surprise turned out to be a single flower, a desert flame it was called. It was bright yellow and beautiful to look at... but also very singular and rather small.
“I’m going to add to it,” Sherman had pointed out when he popped it in the vase. “Each time I come see you, I’ll bring a different flower – I was thinking a native to Australia theme? Might be fun.”
“Sounds it,” Bradley had chuckled, feeling the nerves melt from him like snow in summer.
And indeed, Sherman had been true to his word. Every time he came to visit Bradley that month, he had brought a new flower to add to the bunch. The two had even turned it into a game, where Bradley would try and guess what the flower was, and then Sherman would give him the correct name... and a prize, if he was right. The prize was usually just a kiss or something silly like that. Today though it felt like a kiss might not be enough...
Still on his knees, Sherman continued to suck Bradley’s hard cock like it was his job. He was an old pro now, especially where Bradley was concerned. He knew just what to do and how to do it.
He started by getting Bradley’s dick as wet as possible. There was no such thing as too much spit, and Sherman leaned into this fact considerably. Pools of saliva formed by his knees where it had dripped from Bradley’s dick and onto the floor, yet still Sherman continued to spit and hack all over it. As he did so, he worked his hand up and down the shaft, twisting and turning gently to Bradley’s moans and groans.
“I was thinking...” Sherman pulled his mouth free and looked up at Bradley with a wicked smile. His eyes were wild and hungry and to Bradley,
that could only mean one thing.
“Don’t...” Bradley warned. He knew what Sherman was going to suggest, and although he desperately wanted to, he also knew he shouldn’t. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.
“What?” Sherman pretended to act upset... only to then spit on Bradley’s cock again. His hand moved down to Bradley’s full, throbbing balls and gave them a squeeze. “I was just going to say... how do you feel about putting this thick piece inside —”
“Stop!” Bradley growled.
Sherman did not stop. In fact, he just started sucking harder and harder and harder. And as to Bradley? He gripped the sides of his chair and tried not to howl out in pleasure. The last thing he needed was the stage crew hearing him get a blow job on his lunch break.
This wasn’t the first blow job that Sherman had given him in his change room. Not by a long shot. That first morning he’d stopped by to drop that single flower off and wish Bradley luck had ended with a blow job. And the next time too... and a couple of times after that. In fact, it almost always did. Truthfully, it was actually a great help as it did exactly what it was intended, that being to help Bradley relax. Also, Bradley knew that Sherman loved doing it.
But that was also just Sherman. The last month especially, ever since he’d returned home from Melbourne, Sherman had been a different person. And that wasn’t to say that he had changed, or was making great pains to try and be somebody else. It was the little things that had changed, things that made Bradley love him even more.
Firstly, he was much more helpful around the apartment now. But not in the ‘trying too hard’ way he had been before. Now it was a give and take process, one in which they would take turns to cook and clean and go shopping. It was system designed so that neither could hold it over the other’s head, and it was working splendidly.
Oh, and that apartment that they both lived in? The one that Bradley went home to every night to find his boyfriend waiting for him in? It was Bradley’s apartment, the single bedroom that Sherman had found for him months previously. Now, the two men lived in it full-time together.
After Melbourne, Sherman had been forced to take stock of his life. The first thing he realized was that he was going to have to make some serious changes where his finances were concerned. He couldn’t afford his old place, or even his old life. So, he committed to a full downsize which also saw Bradley become the true breadwinner of the pair. Neither man seemed to mind.