Chest aching with realisation, Brian kissed Andrew. Not hard or fast, but slowly, deeply. Passionately. Ensuring he showed Andrew exactly how he felt. Andrew’s arms wrapped around him, big hands pressing to his back, rough with calluses but smooth with tenderness on Brian’s skin.
Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, Brian started moving. Rocking his hips gently until every inch of Andrew was inside him. They kissed again as he started rising and falling, slow drags of his body over and around Andrew’s, and a roll of his hips until he found the sweet spot. He couldn’t kiss after that, too busy blissing out on his prostate firing shots of pure ecstasy through his body. The feel of Andrew’s hands moving all over him, the upthrust of his hips to meet Brian coming down, echoed the inside sensations, enhanced them a hundredfold.
Brian had never felt this before, not with his girlfriends, not even the first time Andrew was inside him. Then, Brian had been too much in his head, making sure he didn’t spoil the experience for either of them. This time felt pure and free. From the moment he’d spread himself out in front of Andrew to right now, everything felt right.
“Love you,” Andrew whispered.
Struck dumb, possibly permanently, by the endless friendship and love Andrew was giving him, Brian could only nod. Then they were kissing and Andrew’s hand was around his cock and before Brian knew it, he was coming. While he was still thrumming with his orgasm, Andrew grabbed his hips, held him still and fucked up into him, taking only a half dozen thrusts to reach his own peak.
Utterly wiped out, Brian collapsed on Andrew’s chest and shivered until the warmth and comfort of Andrew’s arms around him put him back together.
“Thought I was supposed to do all the work.” Brian snuggled deeper into Andrew’s body.
Andrew’s chuckle rumbled through Brian like a good massage chair. “That wasn’t work. That was all pleasure, baby.” He slapped Brian’s arse gently.
Brian’s eyeroll was lost in the side of Andrew’s neck. With a groan, he slid off his lover and toppled slowly onto the bed, vaguely aware of Andrew dealing with the condom. One day, Brian would help with the clean up, but apparently today wasn’t it. Andrew finally lay down with him, head on Brian’s chest, arm draped over his waist, light yet claiming. Brian was close to sleep but his mind kept replaying Andrew’s teasingly sweet words about work and pleasure.
“Is driving back and forth to Brisbane each day too much?” Brian trailed his fingers along the arm over his middle.
“It’s not pleasant, but this is worth it.” Andrew kissed Brian’s chest.
“I’m being selfish, aren’t I? Wanting you home every night.”
“Not unless me wanting to be with you every night is selfish, too.”
Brian wove his fingers through Andrew’s and squeezed his hand. “I don’t want you getting too tired. I think you should stay up in Brisbane through the week.” He took a deep breath and rapid-fired out, “You can even stay with Eliot of the Hickey of Doom if you need to.”
Head popping up so he could look directly at him, Andrew frowned. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”
“Sure.” His leg was twitching and Brian forced it to be still. “Just . . . don’t let him give you anymore hickeys, okay? Or do anything else to you.”
A small, teasing smile curled Andrew’s lips. “Is this your way of saying you want to be exclusive? Because you don’t need to ask. I already am. I always will be.”
It was just the endorphins making Brian tear up. “Good. Me too.”
Andrew moved over him and kissed him, still smiling. “How about we talk about me staying in Brisbane later?” He nibbled his way down Brian’s throat. “I’m here right now. That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah,” Brian agreed, his body already responding to Andrew again. “That’s all that matters.”
If only.
They slept late in the morning and ended up having to rush to meet the others.
True to their misinformation plan, Troy and James had stayed the night in a hotel in Burleigh Heads and Brian and Andrew rocked up in the rented minivan midmorning. James watched them warily when Troy let them in, pointing out the swell was too shit for surfing.
“Change of plans.” Brian pulled out his phone and showed it to James. “We’re going to Currumbin instead. Surf’s much better there.”
“Not at this time of day,” James muttered, reaching for the phone.
Which was when Troy and Andrew snuck up on him from behind and caught him between them. James fought back, but only half-heartedly, his laugh mostly one of relief as he probably realised he’d been lied to about what was really happening. He was blindfolded, hands bound and marched down to the van. People looked, but that was probably because Brian had put a top hat on his head that said ‘The Bachelor.’ The top hat was coated in purple glitter. On the subsequent drive, Brian and Troy got him into matching sneakers and tutu.
“What the hell is this?” James laughingly demanded, still blindfolded.
“The bach party of your dreams,” Troy announced. “I’m going to untie your hands. Promise not to hit me.”
James promised and he kept it as they put a glittering purple vest on him and slipped elbow length gloves on then retied his hands. Just in time as they arrived at their destination.
Andrew parked and they carefully guided the blindfolded bachelor out of the van and into the clubhouse.
“Where are we?” James kept asking. “I smell food. Are we at a restaurant?”
“Not really.” Brian helped Troy steer him past the restaurant where an early lunch was on offer and to a private function room.
Andrew opened the door for them and leaned in to hush the group of guys waiting. Troy and Brian manoeuvred James in, Andrew closed the door, and Troy positioned James. Around the room were a dozen of James’s and Elle’s male friends and family. The dads, Mr. Rollins and Mr. Tally, had teamed up amidst the mostly twenty-something crowd. All of them were standing still and quiet, waiting to spring the surprise. Brian counted them down and on one, Troy pulled off the blindfold and everyone yelled and cheered.
Mr. Rollins came over and hugged James. Father and son were shockingly similar in looks and build, except that Mr. Rollins was wearing a bright red Hawaiian shirt ala Magnum PI. James laughed at his dad, then looked around at the purple and silver balloons and streamers and sneered sarcastically at the banner with the picture of a cartoon bride and groom with his and Elle’s faces stuck on them. It had the slogan ‘Man Down’ and the groom was lying on his side. Then he looked down at what they’d dressed him in.
“What is this all about?” He laughed and patted his tutu.
“It’s all part of the fun and games.” Andrew pointed to the large floor to ceiling windows along the side of the room. Beyond was a beautiful expanse of lush greens, sand traps, and water hazards.
James walked to the windows, getting slaps on the back and hugs from his friends and family as he went. “Golf?”
“We have the grounds to ourselves for three hours,” Brian explained. “We’re going to play all eighteen holes.”
James tugged on his vest. “What’s all this?”
“Well, if you get the lowest score on a hole, you will be allowed to take off one item of clothing.”
James groaned. “If I don’t?”
“Then you do a shot. All the losers do a shot!”
“But I’m hopeless at golf.”
The whole room cracked up.
They all did a shot and headed out. A couple of the guys weren’t drinking so they drove the cart with the drinks around the greens. James was hopeless but fluked a low score on the twelfth hole and took off, off all things, the vest. Andrew was hopeless as well and, along with most of them, he was drunk after a dozen holes. However, unlike most of the others, he was adorable as he smooched up to Brian and tried out corny pick up lines. Thankfully everyone just laughed like it was a joke, but it left Brian amused, confused and, damnably, somewhat aroused. The urge to return Andrew’s albeit slu
rred endearments and let the clumsy gropes land was strong. His half-realised revelation from the night before was solidifying up, even without Andrew’s cute seduction attempts. To distract himself from making a loud and proud—if massively scary—announcement then and there, Brian focused on the game. He’d played with his father a lot through high school and uni, and only lost on one hole and had to drink. James slurringly accused him of being a doctor and therefore having an unfair advantage. Brian did two more shots to appease the horde and hopefully settle his raging emotions.
Back at the clubhouse, they had a late lunch to sober up a bit, got into the vans and hit the paintball place.
“This is more like it.” James hefted a rifle and grinned. “Prepare to—what? That’s my gun!” He lunged after the weapon Andrew had plucked out of his half-drunk hands.
“You don’t get a gun.” Andrew handed it off to Brian.
“But—”
“We’re splitting into two teams. The Groominators and the Bridezillas. Friends and family of the groom, over this way. Friends and family of the bride, over that way.”
The two groups were not evenly matched, so Brian and Troy joined the Bridezillas since they were friends of both.
“What team am I on?” James asked.
“You aren’t on a team. You’re the prize. It will be the Groominators’ job to protect you from being stolen by the Bridezillas. Everybody gets three lives and we’ll be using the honour system so play fair. If you get hit, you’re ‘dead’ for five minutes. No one can shoot you and you can’t shoot anyone. The winning team will be the one with the prize after half an hour.”
The Groominators got red bandanas and the Bridezillas got yellow. Everyone geared up and the Groominators were given a head start so they could stash the prize and get ready to defend him.
The field was large and had stands of trees, dirt bunkers, fake ruins and outcrops made of rocks and odd cuts of cement. Tyson, Elle’s cousin and leader of the Bridezillas, claimed a pile of cement pieces as their base and crawled to the top to oversee the battleground and direct them via walkie-talkie. The rest of them split into three teams of two and fanned out.
“I reckon Andrew will have stashed him in the treehouse.” Troy pointed to the wooden structure amongst a stand of trees diagonally opposite them. “It’s easily defendable and there’s not a lot of cover around it.”
Brian studied the area. Troy was right. There was a lot of ground to cover and eight enemy troops out there, already hidden.
“Nah. Too obvious. It’s a trap.” Brian considered the options. “Andrew will have him on the move. Not stay in one place too long.”
Their walkie-talkie crackled and Tyson said, “Team Alpha, respond.”
Brian rolled his eyes. Tyson was taking this deadly seriously. “Team Alpha here.”
“You got two bogies on your eleven o’clock. They’re using the bunker as cover.”
“Got it. Team Alpha out,” Troy said. “Let’s go paint some arse!”
Laughing, Brian followed Troy out from behind their rock cover and they combat-crawled across the grass. They split up and each took one end of the bunker, Troy counted down using his fingers, then they reared up on their knees and caught the enemy in a crossfire.
“No fair,” one of James’s work friends cried, laughing as his fellow did a dramatic death scene.
“All’s fair in love and—shit!” Troy threw himself backwards as a third enemy popped out from behind a tree and fired.
Brian rolled into the bunker and the paintball harmlessly splashed against the ground where he’d been. Above him and the “dead” guys, Troy lay on his stomach and fired at the sneaky sniper but didn’t hit his target as the man ran back into the thicker trees.
“I think that was Mr. Rollins.” Troy levered himself up on his elbows.
“Can’t have been. He’s had two knee replacements.”
“He was wearing that godawful Hawaiian shirt.”
One of the “dead” guys laughed.
Brian scowled at him and crawled out of the bunker. “Let’s get out of here before they come back to life.”
Troy nodded and they moved into cover, radioing back to Tyson for orders and were told to scout the trees.
“Did you see Mr. Rollins running around over here?” Troy asked him.
“Negative. We had a skirmish in the southern quarter. Lost a good man. Mr. Rollins isn’t fast, you should be able to catch him.”
Brian leaned over and said into the walkie-talkie, “Troy missed him.”
“Alpha One, is that right?”
Troy sighed. “It’s true.”
“Don’t fail us next time, soldier. Temporary death to the Groominators!”
With that rallying cry, Brian and Troy moved cautiously through the trees, working their way towards a set of ruins. They got ambushed halfway and both of them “died.”
“It was him again,” Troy hissed when their killers left without revealing themselves to gloat. They were slumped against tree trunks, waiting out their five minutes.
Brian had to agree. There had been a definite flash of yellow hibiscus flowers on a red background. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah,” Troy agreed wholeheartedly, then asked, “What’s not right about it?”
“Mr. Rollins definitely should not be moving that fast. And he’s got awfully good aim.” Brian rubbed his chest where the paintball had hit. “I think it’s a decoy.”
Troy nodded. “Andrew would do something like that. What do we do?”
“I think we should head to the treehouse.”
The wait until they could move again felt endless, but then the five minutes were up and they cautiously worked their way around perimeter of the field. Along the back fence they encountered the same two guys they shot earlier and Troy went down in a hail of paintballs.
“Go!” he shouted at Brian. “The fate of the world rests in your hands!”
Brian scurried erratically and somehow missed being hit. He got one of them and the other one disappeared to help his fellow teammates pinned down by Bridezillas at the ruins. As he crept up to the treehouse, a rifle mussel appeared from a window and tracked him. Brian ducked behind a tree and waited, peeking around to check out the lay of the land.
The ground was exposed under the treehouse, so he’d have to run across a no-mans land to get to the ladder. Then he’d be an easy target for whoever was up there. Except that he couldn’t stop the niggling sensation that it was too obvious.
Over there. Another set of ruins. Brian considered it, then zigzagged across no-mans land, drawing fire from above, but not from the ruins. Thankfully not getting hit again, he crawled up on the ruins and, back pressed to the outer wall, listened. There was scuffling and whispering. At least two people. Taking a deep breath, he leaped up and fired into the ruins, holding the trigger down and spraying paintballs in an arc and yelling, “Bridezillas for the win!”
Inside the ruins, the man in the purple tutu was splattered with paint, as was the other one. When Brian stopped firing he focused on the “prize.”
“Hello, Mr. Rollins,” he said pleasantly.
“Son.” James’s dad sighed and eased down to the ground.
“I guess that’s James out there in your shirt?”
“It is. Good work figuring that out.”
Brian shrugged. “I know Andrew and James. It wasn’t hard to work out.” He waved to the other dead guy, one of James’s cousins, then headed back to the treehouse. Walking up to it, he threw down his gun. “I surrender.”
A hand appeared out of the window and waved him up. Brian scrambled up the ladder and Andrew helped him through the hatch and into the treehouse.
“Should have known you would work it out.” Andrew pulled him close and kissed him.
Brian laughed against his mouth. “It wasn’t hard. You should have told James to run slower.”
“Knew there was something we missed. How did you know it was me up here?”
“Command position. You can see most of the field from up here. Clear line of sight on the approach.”
Andrew snickered. “Someone’s been playing COD.”
Brian pushed him back against the wall of the treehouse and rubbed against him. “You’ve been gone too much this week. I was bored.”
“Yeah? What else did you do while I wasn’t there?” Andrew kissed down Brian’s neck, hands sliding around to grasp his arse and haul him in even closer. “Did you play with yourself and think of me?”
“Maybe.”
Andrew growled and slammed their mouths together in a wild kiss that Brian felt right down to his toes. He clutched at Andrew, helplessly grinding their dicks together. “I want to fuck again tonight. I love it when you’re inside me.”
“Oh god,” Andrew moaned. “Remember that problem you had at the suit fitting? We’re going to have it again very soon.”
Brian reached for Andrew’s cock, stroking the half-hard length through his pants. “Then I’ll take care of it like you took care of me that day.”
“What the fuck?”
Andrew shoved Brian back and he staggered into the opposite wall, shocked. Across from him, Andrew was staring at the hatch in the floor, horrified.
“What. The. Fuck.” James repeated, looking from Andrew to Brian and back again from his position halfway into the treehouse. He looked confused at first, then realisation dawned and his eyes narrowed into a glare, his jaw tightening. Then he spat out, “You fucking cheating prick,” at Andrew, then he turned on Brian. “You fucking lied to us.”
“James,” Andrew began, but their friend shouted, “Fuck the both of you!” over the top of him and then dropped out of sight.
All the air had left Andrew’s lungs. That look of rage James had given him, then Brian, sent freezing waves through him. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. James had been so accepting when Andrew came out. What . . . Why would he . . .?
“Andrew?” Brian’s voice was rough and cracked on the last syllable of his name. He looked lost, standing there on the other side of the tiny space, arms wrapped around himself.
The New Normal Page 22