by J P Sayle
Joe fiddled with the napkin, waiting for Martin to finish. His guilt had his meal sliding around uneasily in his stomach.
“Whatever it is, man, it won’t make any difference to you and me. We have been friends a long time. It’s the only reason I haven’t pushed before now. I’d hoped you would open up when you were ready, but if anything, you have shut down further. You need to talk and get this off your chest and now.”
As Martin stopped speaking, Joe could see the harm he’d inadvertently caused, hurting his friend. Joe let go of his barrier inside, reassured that Martin wouldn’t judge him. He let the words tumble out. Not stopping, he poured out the whole gory story, not missing anything out.
Appreciative that both Brad and Martin didn’t interrupt. As he filled in the last parts, he stopped, alarmed when Martin threw his chair across the room, the loud crash making both Brad and him jump.
Joe felt his concern grow watching Martin storm around the kitchen, evidently fighting past his anger, if his clenched fists were anything to go by.
Knowing he needed to finish, words rushed past frozen lips. “The set up worked, Aaden got the confession, coerced or not. We had his admission that he was a stalking, sadistic bastard. The commander has finally accepted that Joel has a problem. At least it was something, after the months of torment and no one listening to me. Well, except Aaden.” Joe’s voice trailed off realising his mistake.
He could practically see the steam coming out of Martin’s ears. Oh Christ, that was so the wrong thing to say. The thought hadn’t fully formed when Joe found himself dangling at the end of Martin’s fists, shaking him till his teeth rattled.
“Why the fuck didn’t you come to me, you know I could have helped. Fuck, I would have gone and sorted that asshole out for you. What the fuck, man, you know you could have trusted me, I would have dealt with it for you.” Martin’s sharp demand didn’t hide the hurt, or disappointment in his eyes for not trusting him enough to ask for help.
“Put him down, now.” Brad’s quiet command cut through the tension in the room.
Martin placed Joe back onto his chair, his hands caressing his shoulders and arms, both knowing he’d probably have a bruise after that punishing grip.
“I’m sorry.” Martin’s sadness warred with anger.
Joe watched Martin’s expression close down. He balled his hands in his lap, frightened of losing Martin’s friendship. “Please, I need you to understand with everything you were going through with Brad, I didn’t want to burden you. Can’t you see I was trying to do the best for everyone?” Joe begged, his sobs choking him.
Martin and Brad moved together surrounding him with love as two sets of arms pulled him between them. Letting go of everything he’d been holding, his body collapsed against both men, sobs wracked him making him shudder at the release. His tears fell unhindered soaking everything they touched. The long needed release cathartic, cleansing away the hurt, pain, and loneliness of the last several months.
“Shush, let it out. I know what it feels like to keep all the pain inside.” Brad’s whispered words soothing.
Brad’s fingers tracing small circles over Joe’s tensed back, unsure how to respond to his quiet words, he accepted them for what they were, support. Several minutes passed, no one moving, arms wrapped around protecting him from further hurt.
Weirdly he felt better than he had in months, even though his headache was back. Feeling Princess push against his leg it felt like she had connected them all in some cosmic way.
Joe chuckled at his weird ass thoughts moving back. Hiding his wet cheeks he bent to pick up Princess, but Martin’s firm fingers wouldn’t let him escape, gripping his chin.
“No more hiding from me.” Martin’s command had him nodding, relief that he hadn’t ruined their friendship helping settle the last of his anxiety.
Martin’s next words had him stiffen. “Now, tell me what’s going on with Stuart?”
Joe glanced around the room feeling the question heat his cheeks. Well, shit how’d I forget how perceptive Martin could be? Joe pretended a sudden interest in Princess, needing a moment to consider how to answer.
Brad had told him the full story about Stuart’s part in his past. Still not sure of the dynamics between them, he knew his answer could create more problems.
“Stop worrying your lip and spit it out.”
Automatically doing as Martin requested, not even realising he’d been chewing it, Joe heaved a heavy sigh; this was why you couldn’t get away with shit when your friends knew you.
Joe plodded back to the chair, mind racing at how best to put forward his confused thoughts. “I’m not sure. I like him, but,” holding up his hands as Brad sat eagerly next to him. “Hold your horses. I think old Stuart is probably a bit of a skank. He came home Friday stinking the house up with some flowery smelling shit that wasn’t his.” Spitting the words out, Joe felt the jealousy rear its ugly head.
Princess meowed loudly, a paw battering his hand, he released his clenching fingers, apologising. “Shit, sorry, Princess.” Showing his regret, Joe quickly soothed the silky ruffled fur. He went to pop her down not wanting to upset her further, he felt her claws dig into the borrowed joggers barely missing digging into his leg.
“Hey, stop that nonsense.” Joe exclaimed, his brow furrowing.
Brad batted at her paws dragging her away from Joe, putting her outside the door. “Naughty girls don’t get to listen if they can’t behave.” Brad’s no-nonsense tone brooked no argument.
Joe hid his smile behind hands, not wanting to look at Princess’s face and give away his amusement. Brad pranced back, sitting opposite, giving Joe a look of clear expectation, oh dear, this is not good.
“Come on spill, tell me everything.”
Joe’s eyes widened in horror, looking at Martin for help to save him from Brad’s eager smile. Joe wanted to groan at his nonchalant shrug, it spoke volumes, he was on his own with this one.
“Oh alright, alright, I give in,” Joe whined, hunching under Martin’s amused gaze. Feeling put upon, he fidgeted under the two penetrating intent looks. He could feel their compulsion to spurt out all his woes. “He’s been flirting with me. Flaunting his body at every opportunity, he seems to have an aversion to clothes. He spends half the time with barely a stitch on. It’s driving me fucking mad. Then he’s all ‘Joe, you need to eat, you have to look after yourself’. On top of that is the touching, he seems to be doing it every five bloody minutes till I can’t think past the lust, escape his friggin delicious smell that I’m sure he sprays some shit over the house, so I can’t escape its intoxicating scent.” Knowing he was ranting but unable to stop Joe jumped up, pacing.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this again, let my dick rule my head, yet here I am finding myself wanting to rut against him like a dog in heat. What the fuck is wrong with me?” Scowling, he pointed accusingly at Martin.
“It’s your entire fault. ‘Come and stay with me, Joe, you’ll love it here. It’s beautiful and peaceful.’ Well let me tell you, it’s bloody not peaceful when your dick doesn’t know which way it’s fucking pointing.” Throwing daggers at Martin, he ignored Brad’s grinning face.
“You left me with him, all fucking hot body and tight ass. Muscles that stretch for miles, so bronzed you just want to lick till you’re full to the brim. Who does that to their best friend, I ask you, who?” Lost in his rant, he failed to see Martin and Brad struggled to choke back their laughter.
Joe’s arms pumped and flexed, his whole body jiggling, words continued to flow.
Martin pulled Brad onto his lap, settling in to watch the show. God, had he been this bad about his feeling for Brad? Nuzzling Brad’s neck, taking pleasure in the scent of ripe cherries and chocolate, his groin stirred to life at how the chocolate smell had gotten there.
Brad battered him away, “Stop that, we are supposed to be helping here.” Brad’s angry whisper had Joe stopping mid-stride.
His eyes pinning them both in place, “Ar
e you two even listening to me?”
Twin sheepish smiles looked up at him.
Joe’s question, “What did I just say?”
Martin hoped Joe couldn’t remember himself, winging it, he responded. “You were saying something about how hot and tight his body was.” Scratching his ear where Brad’s hair tickled, Martin looked to Brad for confirmation, they both nodded turning back to Joe.
The ‘was I’ look had them both cracking up with laughter.
“You’re not even listening to yourself,” giggling, Brad tucked his head under Martin’s chin, settling back.
Joe flounced down next to them huffing. “Well, okay, anyway, we kissed yesterday.” He gave Martin an accusing look. “Sarah started it.” The words hung in the air between them, Martin’s alarmed look had Joe finally seeing the funny side. His sense of humour returning, he let Martin off the hook. “You know how I am for being tickled. Why you ever told Sarah that, I’ll never know. Some friend you turned out to be. Anyway, she started to attack me after you kicked us out.”
The implication of Joe’s words had Brad burrowing a little deeper into Martin, red infusing his already flushed cheeks. Joe grinned at Brad’s self-satisfied smile.
Giving himself a shake he got back on track. “You know I can’t stand being tickled. Anyway, I asked Stuart to rescue me, next thing I know I’m wrapped around him in your front garden, giving your neighbours a free show. Though, I did manage to stop before it went too far.” Drumming his fingers on the table in frustration before continuing, “I hightailed back into the house before Stuart stalked off, going God knows where. The long story short, we then somehow ended up in my bed.”
Brad sat forward wetting his lips, eyes glowing with expectation.
Joe held up his hands, “Nope, not what you’re thinking. Well maybe a little, but Stuart said something about belonging to him, and well, it fucked with my mind. Next thing I knew I was fighting him, socked him right in the mouth, too. He probably has a fat lip for his effort.” Joe dropped his head down, rubbing his face, feeling his confusion sit forefront and centre.
His insecurity ate at his old confidence, nibbling his fingernails watching Brad and Martin have a silent conversation only couples seemed to be able to have. He acknowledged he felt a little jealous of their connection, even though it warred with his genuine pleasure for them to have found each other.
Musing he missed what Brad had said. “Sorry, what?” Joe smiled in apology, waiting for Brad to continue.
“Are you interested in his skanky ass?”
Laughing at Brad’s use of his own words, he realised he was past kidding himself. Nodding, Joe acknowledged somehow they’d managed to build a friendship even though he hadn’t tried to. Stuart seemed to ignore the walls Joe’s had built to hide behind. Shit, maybe I hadn’t hid my feelings at all? He sure as hell hadn’t hidden anything last night with his boner knocking on Stuart’s zip, asking for entry. What a ruddy mess.
“Joe, if it were me, I’d play him at his own game.” Brad wriggled in Martin’s lap, hips dancing as he moved towards Joe, his eyes glinting in mischief.
“It’s easy or should I say hard,” Brad smirked at Martin.
The silent pregnant pause only lasting a second before laughter rang out at Brad’s antics. Joe chuckled thinking about the fun he could have with Stuart. Could he play with Stuart and set up ground rules to stop his stupid possessive behaviour?
Joe smiled indulgently at the couple in front of him. Sudden heat fired through his body when Brad got a little too frisky, that would be my cue to leave then.
Stuart couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was different between Joe and him. He’d returned from Brad and Martin’s on Sunday morning, and though he seemed the same, there was a difference. Whatever it was, Joe was driving him mad, if he’d wanted him before, now, it felt like Joe was shocking him constantly with thousands of bolts of electricity. He’d hardly slept a wink in the last five days, his cock on constant alert.
Oh he knew why his gaze slid unwillingly—well that’s what he kept telling himself—to Joe lying across the other sofa. Reading glasses perched halfway up his button nose, making his chocolate eyes seem larger through the lens. Dark lashes brushed his cheekbones every few seconds.
His palms twitched with the urge to feel those lashes against his skin, Stuart shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the hidden ache between his legs. Valiantly he tried not to look down Joe’s body. Why the fuck he had started wearing those tiny shorts and tight T-shirts? They were more like a second skin, though who was he to complain when they showed off Joe’s perfect lithe body? Fuck, he wondered if they were made to measure, not a spare bit of material anywhere, not that he’d looked too closely, all right maybe a little but who could blame him.
His gaze was drawn down Joe’s muscular legs to his tapping foot, moving rhythmically, keeping time to whatever music Joe had playing through his earbuds. They made conversation a no go, and that was fine because conversation was the last thing on his mind.
Stuart glanced back to the movie on Netflix, feeling fraught, his fingers tapped against his knee. What the hell were they even watching anyway?
Feeling his eyes move back, the lamp light behind Joe’s head cast a warm glow over his skin. Stuart chewed his lip, wondering if he’d been sunbathing. The weather had been unseasonably hot for the end of September. It seemed the weathermen had gotten it right with the prediction of an Indian summer. Joe stretched out, turning as if to get more comfortable, inadvertently offering Stuart a glimpse of his lower back. Mesmerised, his eyes squinted, was that a tan line?
Images popped into his head creating questions. Did he sunbathe naked? Could his neighbours see in his garden, see Joe’s body?
The last though had him jumping up, needing to do anything to stop where his mind was taking him. Stuart shouted at Joe “You want something to eat?” When it only earned him a questioning look, Stuart mimicked pulling out headphones.
“You want anything to eat?” His exasperation making his voice sound harsh even to his own ears. Joe’s widening, searching eyes didn’t help his mood. When all Stuart wanted to do was push up his T-shirt, to show those searching eyes what he was hiding.
“Ice cream, that nice Davidson’s Belgian chocolate if we have any left. Oh, and some chocolate sauce, please.” Stuart sucked in a breath to avoid groaning at Joe’s husky response.
He heroically focused on not wrestling Joe to the floor when he smiled radiantly up at him. The punch to his solar plexus had him wanting to whimper. Fixing his trembling hands at his sides when pictures of what chocolate ice cream would look like melting on golden skin popped into his mind making matters worse. Cursing under his breath, he managed to get his legs to obey heading out of the room. Whirling back, sure he’d heard Joe chuckle, but his gaze seemed to be fixed on his book, foot back to tapping. Shaking his head, now he was hearing things on top of everything else.
Standing in front of the freezer he let the icy air brush over burning skin, silently praying it would cool him down before he combusted. At this rate, if they ever got back into the bedroom, one touch from Joe and it would probably be all over. He could see it now, only adding to his torture.
Joe’s light touches leaving his scent over everything, including him. Stuart was convinced he could practically taste apples on everything he put near his mouth. Real or imagined it didn’t seem to matter, all he could taste was crisp green apples. He wasn’t sure how much more he could cope with.
Hadn’t he backed off, given him space even when he’d wanted to demand more after Saturday? He’d waited patiently for Joe to tell him what the issues were, now five fucking days later and still nothing. Slamming down the ice cream, okay maybe not so patiently, but he didn’t know which way was up with Joe acting so differently.
It was wrecking his head. Martin had all but demanded he leave the office today because he’d kept losing his temper for no apparent reason. He’d gladly escaped, knowing full
well what the problem was, a five foot six, chocolate eyed devil that was right now laying in his lounge, sprawled out like an evening buffet.
As if conjuring him up, the overwhelming scent of apples hit his nose seconds before heat spread along his back. The groan escaping before he could stop it, Stuart clutched at the counter. Joe’s lean arms caged him from behind, heat seeped into his T-shirt when a lithe body pushed up against his back. Stuart felt his breath halt, holding as still as a statue not sure what to do.
Shit, shit, buggering hell.
His internal battle seemed to last forever before his unchecked hips rolled back seeking contact with Joe. Oh God. Stuart moaned in pleasure, his body on fire at the feel of Joe’s erection nestling against his ass. Unable to take any more, he turned lightning fast. “If you don’t want this, Joe, you need to step back now.” He snarled.
Joe’s lips rose in a cheeky smirk, “Of course, I want the ice cream. You offered, remember?” Stuart’s eyes glued to Joe when he stretched up. Watching in fascination as Joe’s lips opened, exposing small even white teeth before his wet pink tongue meandered out, licking the skin above the collar of his T-shirt. Feeling his temperature soar, Stuart clung to the counter behind him, his knuckles aching. Lust clouding his mind, removing any coherent thoughts he’d had seconds earlier.
Joe’s day old scruff scraped his exposed skin as lips sucked just beneath his ear, the roughness adding to his pleasure. Joe’s small mouth opened wider, his teeth bit down, making sparks of desire careen across his overheated flesh.
How could he want to come from just the feel of lips, teeth, and scruff against his neck? “Oh God!” Air-backed up in his lungs, struggling Stuart tried to pull in a breath as Joe’s lips and tongue tormented him.
“Can’t I have both together, you and the ice cream?” Joe’s breathy whisper in his ear had his cock leaking.