by J P Sayle
They’d spent Saturday morning emptying rooms after Aaden had gotten approval to do whatever he wanted to the house. Aaden had insisted on carrying out most of the manual labour, though Joe’s shoulders were begging to differ after nearly two days of holding up a steamer.
A storage company had collected the furniture, not that Joe thought Ms Stevens would want the dark, dismal looking furniture back. The place was so damn depressing. Joe couldn’t understand how Aaden had coped staying there the previous two nights, especially when he had caught a glimpse of the bedroom he was using. A bloody nunnery would be more welcoming, so, without thinking, he’d offered Stuart’s spare room when they had finished last night. The awkward silence that followed eventually had him catching on to what was wrong. Aaden’s refusal, followed by Stuart’s sigh of relief, had Joe worrying.
Though his tightening pants reminded him of how much he’d loved the little interlude in the hall, he wasn’t bothered Aaden had been there when he’d laid claim to Stuart in the most primal way. Joe had felt his confidence soar when Stuart had roared his pleasure all over him. Immensely thrilled that Aaden understood not to interfere or try and take things any further.
He wasn’t entirely sure how he would have felt if Aaden had tried to touch Stuart. Fuck, who was he kidding, he would have wanted to rip Aaden’s arms out of his sockets. The slow curl of jealousy inside him had him pausing, giving Stuart all his attention, no, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else touching what belonged to him. Shaking off his growing possessiveness, Joe went back to removing the shit brown paper, avoiding getting too close to the steamer as the air thickened with the smell of wet paper.
Joe’s mind seemed intent on reflecting on how much he’d gotten off on dominating Stuart in front of Aaden. Feeling the intensity of his stare when he’d pushed into Stuart’s unbelievably tight channel, had Joe wanting to nail Stuart to the floor. Judging by the way Stuart had limped across the road when they had left the house, he’d say Stuart would be feeling him for days. Joe had swaggered behind him feeling proud. Aaden’s knowing smirk making him feel indomitable. Hell, he’d have bet his van and equipment that being Batman or Superman couldn’t compare to how he invincible he felt inside.
Joe squirmed at the growing predicament in his pants, trying to distract himself by picking at the last bit of paper in front of him. They’d been too tired to do more than cuddle when they’d eventually gotten to bed the previous night. They’d left Aaden at his insistence; I still can’t quite believe he stayed in this shit pit, shrugging, he supposed Aaden had stayed in worse places.
Joe focused on getting the last of the paper off the walls. The three layers coming off reasonably easily he supposed, but then having never done that before he had nothing to compare it to. Though, the one thing he did know, it was hot and messy work. His eyes stung as sweat dripped down his face, wiping his face on his filthy sleeve. He glanced at Stuart, “Where did you leave that bag of drinks, this steamer is better than any bloody sauna. I’m sure I’ve lost five pounds in sweat since I started.” Joe knew he sounded grumpy, stepping over to the bag Stuart pointed to. He guzzled the Pepsi, enjoying the fizz as it hit the back of his throat, removing the awful taste that felt like he had been eating the soggy paper instead of stripping it off the wall.
He eyed Stuart, clamping lips together to stop the laughter. Stuart’s removal of his face mask gave him two perfect panda eyes, his white face extenuating his dark eyes. Hiding behind the bottle, Joe offered Stuart a drink. Joe knew he wasn’t hiding his merriment when Stuart raised his powered brow.
“What?”
Stuart’s scowl only made it worse, dust sunk into the deep furrows making him appear ghoulish. Unable to contain himself any longer, Joe burst out laughing. Missing Stuart move, he started when large hands grabbed for him, holding up his filthy hands up to ward Stuart off. Stuart dodged them and caught Joe around his middle, quickly rubbing his dirty face against Joe’s damp skin, making the dust sticky.
Their joint laughter filled the room, brightening the dreariness. Dust and Stuart’s day-old whiskers scratched his sticky skin making it heat. His earlier desire coming to life as hands grappled with his body, knowing Stuart was aiming for his ticklish sides, Joe wiggled. Stuart still managed to sneak past his defences, causing him to howl with laughter. His tears leaked out, not helping the situation. The dirt spread, covering them both.
Stuart unmercifully aimed for all his ticklish spots. Trying to escape he turned, running into a solid chest. Gasping at the impact, he looked up under his lashes trying to stop the laughter at Aaden’s scowl when he looked down at the dirt now spreading across his clean white T-shirt. Joe stepped back trying to look contrite.
“Oops, my bad. It’s totally Stuart’s fault.” Joe grinned unrepentant, his shoulders shaking with mirth at Stuart’s look of disbelief. “He tickled me. You know I can’t stand it, Aaden.” As if that explained it, Joe absently wiped at the black mark making it worse on Aaden’s top. His focus fixed on the smouldering look Stuart was giving him that threatened retribution when he got home. His ass quivered at what that look meant.
Aaden’s large warm hands grabbed his making Joe still, looking up. “Do you mind?” Aaden’s husky voice finally penetrating past the haze of lust Stuart had been creating.
“Err, sorry. I was just err trying to make it better.” Registering the mess he’d made, embarrassed heat spread, making his cheeks glow. “Ohhhh, I’ll wash it for you.” The outrage on Aaden’s face had Joe lowering his lashes, coughing to cover the giggle. He stepped back realising he was making the situation worse but unable to stop himself. “Come on, it’s only a little bit of dirt.”
Aaden’s harsh glower had him rethinking. “I mean, look at Stuart and me, you, on the other hand, are nowhere near as dirty as us. Hey, in fact, why is that?” Looking Aaden up and down Joe realised he must have showered and changed at some point. He had dressed in black fatigue trousers that hugged his hard muscular legs. Black polished Doc Martin’s shone enabling you to see yourself reflected back and what was once a tight-fitting, pure white T-shirt.
“I was going out to get some food, to pay you for your help today. It was getting late, and we didn’t stop for lunch because someone wanted to keep going, and now I’m starving.” The growled accusation followed by the glare had Joe’s anger surfacing.
“We didn’t stop because,” Joe pointed to the now bare walls. “I wanted to get rid of that flocked shit brown wallpaper that was sucking the fucking life out of this house. Give you at least one space that didn’t look like someone had wiped their ass all over it.” Joe’s high pitched whine had him stomping his foot in disgust.
Striding to the doorway, unaware of the trail of paper stuck to his foot until it caught on the uneven floorboard. Reaching down, with as much dignity as he could muster, Joe removed what probably looked like toilet roll stuck to his trainer. How many times had he seen someone leave a bathroom with toilet paper attached to their feet, causing untold hilarity, until reality or a friend had pointed out the dilemma? He supposed he should be grateful for small mercies, not having walked across the street like that, because the two fuckwits behind him wouldn’t have said anything, he was sure.
“I’ll go and get the food. At least I can choose something decent to eat.” He marched out into the hall, ignoring the sounds of sniggering that followed him. Heading home, he washed his sticky, gluey skin, grateful for a reprieve from the dreaded steamer.
Sorting himself Joe checked the time before picking up the phone, grinning when Frank at the Hawthorne pub answered. He’d discovered the pub/bistro on his lone travels around the island. The welcoming atmosphere and recent refurbishment offered a bright, friendly space. The upper floor provided an outside seated area. But what drew Joe was their menu, having tasted nearly everything, he just couldn’t find fault. Thoughts of sticky toffee pudding had his mouth watering in anticipation. His only concern was how busy they were and if they would be able to do a take out for him.
Offering Frank a genuine greeting he all but begged him to sort a takeout meal for the three of them. They didn’t provide delivery, but they did do a take out. Joe quickly explained what he wanted, all but skipping to the car. Joe choose to take Brad’s pink panther for ease of parking if the car park was rammed full, he knew his van wouldn’t fit.
Joe drove to the supermarket in Peel first to grab some beers. Aaden’s cupboards and fridge sadly lacking making him pick up several more items Joe considered he needed. Joe felt his aching muscles relax, buoyed by his good mood at the prospect of the meal he was going to collect. Driving to the Hawthorne, singing along with the radio, though he considered maybe singing was over stretching it, it was more like an out of tune wail, to the Foxes “Better Love”.
Pulling into the car park, turning to grab his wallet from the shopping bag a feeling of unease skittered down his spine. Carrying on with what he was doing, Joe causally checked to see if he could spot what was making him antsy. Not spotting anyone else in the car park, he desperately wanting to shake it off, but Joe knew better than to ignore it. The possible consequences had him searching for anything that he could use as a weapon.
Joe opened the glove box; a humourless chuckle escaped when he pulled out a fluffy flowered pussy cat toy. Okay, that was about a useful as a wet paper bag on a windy day. A heavy sigh filled the car as he pushed the soft toy back into the glove box, finding nothing else.
Though, what he had expected to find inside Brad’s car was beyond him. Joe’s nerves stretched tight knowing he needed to get out while it was still light enough for him to see. Shaky hands gripped the steering wheel as he considering moving the car from under the shaded trees. Seeing nothing more suitable, he cursed at his own predicament.
“Come on; you can do this.” Joe ignored the nervous wobble in his voice when his stomach growled angrily, telling him to move his ass. Using the keys, he pushed the key through his shaking fingers so that it poked out. It would have to do. Taking a deep breath when his lungs screamed at the abuse, opening the car door he hurried into the pub. Joe forced a smile, Frank’s genuine happiness filled his homely face, taking the edge off his worry. Joe felt his own answering smile brighten, but he kept a constant eye on his surroundings while he waited for them to load his meals into bags.
Paying on his card he left a hefty tip, hoping to get Frank senior’s help. “You couldn’t help me carry these to the car, could you? I don’t want to drop this deliciousness after all your effort. I’m pretty sure the two hungry men waiting for these wouldn’t be happy either.” Joe worried his lip, hoping Frank didn’t hear his panic. The reassuring smile had him sighing in gratitude when he agreed, following him to the car carrying one of the bags.
Covertly checking as he opened the car, Joe made sure there was no one hiding before thanking Frank, appreciative when he didn’t linger. Joe sped back home, the feeling of being watched, never left him. Joe felt out of sorts when he arrived home. Joe set up the meal texting Stuart and Aaden to let them know he was back.
The sound of the door opening a few minutes later had his stomach jumping all over the place, crap, he should have locked the door. His hands fluttered nervously, jangled nerves only settling when he heard Aaden’s deep baritone. Joe sagged in relief when they both came into the kitchen.
Placing the meals on the table, “Come on, it’ll get cold if you don’t hurry up.” Joe heard the strain in his voice, praying they would just think he was still angry. He settled onto a kitchen chair, tucking into his meal. Disregarding the two quizzical looks he was receiving, he focused his attention on his food.
The flavours of the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding had him sighing in contentment. The taste so reminiscent of his childhood it reminded him of their family tradition of always having a Sunday roast dinner together, every week. There had been no excuses for missing it until he’d left to go to university. A sense of longing filled him to see his parents. When was the last time he’d seen them? Shit, he couldn’t remember. Feeling like a naughty child, usually with their travels he would text to arrange a date and time for FaceTime or Skype. Giving an internal sigh, he made a mental note to rectify the situation when he’d finished his meal.
Focusing back on the food in front of him, trying not to let the guilt affect his appetite, he wolfed down his meal. Revelling in the combined tastes and tenderness of the beef as it melted in his mouth. Viewing the other two plates on the table he calculated his chances of stealing a little of their meals. Aaden’s growl and Stuart’s head shake had him going back to finishing his vegetables and roast potatoes. The hint of herbs on the potatoes mixed with the gravy made him sad he’d not asked for extra.
The urge to act childishly and lick the last of the gravy on his plate had him giving Stuart a surreptitious look. Stuart hated when he did it, and the raised brow Stuart cast at him, had Joe lifting his plate out of temptation’s way. Instead, he went for the sticky toffee pudding, heating it in the microwave it for a few seconds. Pulling ice cream out of the freeze knowing both men preferred it to custard. Joe set up the dishes, serving everyone.
Only as he sat did he realise how quiet both men were. Not entirely sure why he fired a quick look to gauge their expressions. Plucking at the tea towel, he knew the game was up when Aaden broke the silence first.
“What happened while you were out?” His tone brooked no argument he wanted an answer.
Chewing his lip, not sure if he wanted to get into this with Stuart sat right there. His earlier resolution not to involve Stuart was still holding steady. But, the problem was Aaden seemed hell-bent on doing this now, if his expression was anything to go by.
Joe sat back in his seat, his gaze moved around the cosy kitchen that he’d come to think of as his. Would this finally ruin what he and Stuart were building together? Joe had come to the realisation that Stuart and this small island were his home. He’d accepted his love of both even if he’d been too scared to share those feelings, yet.
Stuart’s actions implied solid feeling for him, but he’d not openly admitted to them either, causing Joe to doubt himself. Was his own hesitancy affecting Stuart from sharing his true feelings? Who the hell knows, but this was one fucked up situation, and that, Joe did know. Why did it have to keep circulating back to the biggest mistake of his life, Joel?
Sucking in a deep breath, Joe tried to calm his jittering stomach. “I had a feeling I was being watched as I arrived at the Hawthorne this afternoon.” Raising his hand as Stuart rushed to interrupt. “Please let me get this out.” Stuart’s silent support warmed Joe, even more than the hand that now cupped his. It settled him into the moment.
Wetting his lips, Joe decided to start at the very beginning, filling in all the details of his three-month relationship with Joel and the following six months. Not leaving anything out this time, for either man. The building tension in the room he knew was his fault, but Joe had to keep going if he wanted there to be no barriers between Stuart and him.
Joe felt Princess’s encouragement as she pushed against his leg, offering her brand of comfort. He’d noticed Stuart’s knuckles had gone white, but he hadn’t squeezed his fingers any tighter. His self-deprecating sigh was loud in the silence of the room when he’d finished. Grabbing for the water, Joe gulped, his mouth felt as dry as a desert.
He hesitated when neither man spoke, not looking up he watched the ice cream melt into the sticky toffee sauce making it congeal in the bowl. The silence continued to stretch his frayed nerves. Struggling to cope with his strong feelings the words had created, Joe jumped up nearly knocking his bowl over.
“Sorry, I don’t know what you want to me say.” Joe beseeched both men to understand. Unsure what to do, he filled the sink with hot water to wash the plates. Working his lip, the taste of copper filling his mouth, “Shit.”
Incapable of standing the silence any longer he whirled round shocked motionless by the tears both men had running down their faces. Not sure who to comfort first he went
with instinct, sitting on Stuart’s lap he grabbed Aaden’s hand.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry for causing you both this stress and worry.” His words died, Stuart crushed his mouth against Joe’s, commanding him to open and give Stuart what he wanted. Moaning, he pulled his hand from Aaden and sinking them into Stuart’s silky hair, gripping tight. Joe let the kiss pull him under and away from the pain of bearing his soul to the two men.
Sighing in pleasure as Stuart’s fingers drew patterns on his back, was both soothing and arousing at the same time. A loud cough behind him had colour flooding his face. Burying himself in Stuart’s neck he peeked up at Aaden, offering a small smile. Feeling comforted as Stuart pulled him closer and tucking him into his side, showing him everything would be okay with that one action.
Stuart quietly seethed, striding back and forth across the lounge waiting for Joe to return from Aaden’s. He yanked at his hair in frustration, making it stand bolt upright. He glared at Princess, stabbing a finger towards her. “It’s your fault I can’t go over there. If we hadn’t left you all day, Joe wouldn’t have insisted I wait here while he goes to fetch whatever the hell Aaden needs so we can plan on how to protect Joe from that asshole Joel.” His restrained anger had his teeth grinding together.
He checked the clock for the tenth time, disregarding the fact they’d only been gone mere minutes. “What the hell is taking them so long; you’d think they’d driven all the way to Douglas for God sake.” His forehead creased into another scowl when the clock’s slow tick mocked him.
Stuart actively ignored Princess’s hard stare, figuring he was being slightly ridiculous but unable to stop. Watching Princess prance off out the patio door, her loud chuffing getting his back up. She’d been no help at all, but what could he expect? “From a dumb cat.” He couldn’t resist shouting after her retreating ass. Plonking himself down on the sofa, he took no notice of the soft cushions or the gorgeous glow the fire cast over the room. Lost in his troubled thoughts.