Getting There

by Black Deja

  When Lucas focused on Creed once more, his lunch companion’s look was completely unrepentant. “What?”

  “Why? Why would you do that?” Lucas was confused. He’d taken Creed’s comment to mean that he didn’t know the people here when, in fact, he and the chef were actually friends. Why make Lucas believe he’d made assumptions, stereotyped him when he hadn’t at all?

  “Why would anyone do anything? You believed it, so I gave you what you wished to see. You chose to accept what you assumed rather than question it. Why just accept?”

  Lucas was quiet. “Sometimes, it’s easier.” He’d been doing it for so long in his relationship with Ira he hadn’t even realized it.

  “Easier isn’t always better, Lucas. There are moments when you have to take the bull by the horns and lead for yourself.” Picking up a glass of water, he sipped, his eyes never leaving Lucas’s. “Lovely one. It fits.”

  “What?” When Creed didn’t respond, Lucas asked again. He’d been thinking over Creed’s words. Acceptance. Is that what he’d been doing with Ira? And, was life any easier because of it? What should he do now? Take the bull by the horns. It was a thought to consider. “What fits?” he questioned, realizing he’d missed what Hachiro said.

  “Hachiro sees in you today what I have thought since the first time I met you. You are lovely, and I am honored to have you here just for me.” Creed placed his hand on the table, palm up. Lucas looked away. “Come on, Lucas, don’t leave me hanging.”

  Lucas looked into Creed’s eyes, the gold molten color heating Lucas from across the table. Slowly, nervously Lucas placed his hand in Creed’s who clasped his fingers, drawing his thumb softly along Lucas’s. It was nice. It was warm. It was, Lucas thought to himself, almost perfect.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  There was eating, then there was having a foodgasm. Lucas was fascinated with the many different plates of heaven on their table, and before they made it through one dish, another arrived. It was wonderful.

  No way would he even consider dinner after this. After salmon, cream cheese, lobster, delicate and fiery sauces? There wouldn’t possibly be any space. Their plates were empty leaving a grinning Hachiro looking on in pleasure as Lucas smiled delightedly.

  Creed leaned forward, one large foot pressed against Lucas’s instep. Lucas’s eyes widened at the touch. “The sounds you make while you’re enjoying this, Lucas. I want to hear those sounds when I make love to you.”

  Then, Creed sat back and watched, eyes roaming over Lucas, whose dick took notice. Lucas could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and looked down to his empty plate to compose himself.

  “Don’t worry, Lucas. You’re safe for now.”

  When Lucas looked up again, Creed’s smile was tamer, less predatory. “So, talk to me.”

  “About?” Lucas put his napkin down ready to rest from the destruction of several plates of sushi, his belly full.

  “About why your brother’s putting you on lockdown.”

  And just that quickly, his back was up against the wall.

  “He’s not putting me on lockdown,” Lucas said tensely.

  “Really?” Creed’s tone was doubtful.

  “Really,” Lucas insisted.

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “You usually spend the day at the police station? You’re a teacher. Why aren’t you doing teacher things?” Creed leaned back, his gaze on Lucas as he spoke.

  “School’s out right now,” Lucas said sharply. He chose to ignore the fact he’d been working on items in preparation for the new semester moments ago.

  “Hmm, so then why aren’t you doing school’s-out-let’s-party things?” Creed smiled while he waited for an answer. “Come on, professor. Share. You know you want to talk to someone outside of that clan of yours and Anthony’s, someone not a part of the knot that binds you. I’m your man.”

  Creed was demanding, overwhelming, but he was also right. It would be nice to speak to someone outside of Lucas’s clan, as Creed called them. No doubt, the rest of them would gather soon, eager to protect and wage war. He pictured them all now texting fiercely back and forth, and calling each other as they sought to protect the sensitive one. Creed didn’t appear to feel sorry for him. He seemed genuinely interested in what Lucas had to say. So, why not?

  Starting from the beginning, Lucas told Creed everything from the time Ira arrived with Tommy in tow until the moment he was literally dragged to the station by Anthony.

  Creed was quiet while he talked, adding an occasional word or a sound throughout Lucas’s disclosure but nothing more. There was a moment or two when he touched Lucas, held his hand. Lucas smiled and continued, warmed by Creed’s words of comfort. When Lucas finished, he was empty, drained, and done.

  “Is it the man you’ll miss or what you thought you had?” Creed asked. He sipped his drink and smiled as he waited for Lucas to respond.

  Lucas was confused yet again. When he mulled it over, he’d been living a lie and not only the one he and Ira had shared. He realized now that relationship had ended long ago. He’d been lying to himself. “I suppose what I thought I wanted.”

  “What you need, Lucas, what you deserve… is better. Only you can determine that. Me, I’m here.” Creed’s touch drifted along Lucas’s wrist, rested at his pulse. “I’ve been waiting my turn for better, and I see it sitting right in front of me. He just needs convincing. No worries, though. I’ll help you catch up.” He lifted Lucas’s hand, linked their fingers and held on.

  The rest of their conversation was free and easy. They shared music they enjoyed. Lucas didn’t know who some of the artists were that Creed mentioned, but they both agreed John Coltrane was a man before his time, Metallica would live forever, and Bruno Mars was a fantastic performer worthy of musical icon status.

  While Creed admitted to a hidden love of romance movies, Lucas shared why he felt Marvel would always stand the test of time. He also divulged that he kept a hidden box of collector’s edition comic books at Anthony’s home.

  It was comfortable talking with Creed. It was good to laugh, to smile and not feel weighed down—a burden he discovered he’d been shouldering for so long.

  When they finished, Creed agreed to walk Lucas back to the police station rather than home. The thought of being alone with Creed made Lucas nervous, but they were in no particular hurry and he was smiling with both Creed’s good-natured teasing and his gentle brushes along Lucas’s shoulder.

  It wasn’t long before they arrived at the door of the station, and Lucas looked up, still laughing about Creed’s story of out swimming a determined jellyfish.

  “You know, Lucas. You enjoyed this as much as I did. We should do it again.” The laughter was gone now from Creed’s face, his eyes searching.

  Lucas was quiet. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea right now. It’s been nice, but maybe we should—”

  Creed’s kiss was hot and demanding. Creed tasted him, sank deep within his mouth, a hint of what more could be like between them. He pressed himself against Lucas, the rock-hard length of him rigid against Lucas making promises Lucas was too overwhelmed to answer.

  When Creed released him, Lucas was gasping for breath. His heart was thundering in his chest, the muscle a bomb on the edge of explosion. He touched two fingers to his bruised lips searching for more, shivering in the wake of a sensual typhoon.

  “Maybe not a good idea; maybe it’s better.” Creed trembled against Lucas, and he smiled. Lucas wasn’t the only one touched by their kiss, and the thought of both of them being so affected by it was heady.

  Creed’s back was as delightful to behold as his front, Lucas learned when Creed turned around whistling some inane tune on the way to his vehicle. Before he opened the door to his Jeep, he shouted back to Lucas. “Please tell Anthony lunch was incredible. I’ll ring him later, debt covered.” When he was behind the wheel, he added, “But you and me, lovely? We’ve just begun. Until tomorrow!” Lucas watched in a daze as Creed
drove away before he turned to go back inside the police station.

  Tomorrow? Lucas shook his head as he returned to Anthony’s desk, his lips still tingling from Creed’s kiss, his body still experiencing tiny aftershocks.

  Anthony was hard at work again, glancing up once then a second time more closely. “You’re back. Thought you were going to go home.” Then after a closer inspection, he said, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Humph,” Anthony was back at work barely paying attention when Lucas relayed Creed’s message, too intent on what he was doing. Lucas settled in and got back to work himself, but it was hard to concentrate. He couldn’t remove the image of Creed’s face from his mind, and still felt the press of Creed’s lips against his own.

  That evening, Lucas lay awake in a strange room, in a strange bed, his eyes on the ceiling watching the flickering shadows from cars as they passed by. He’d tossed and turned most of the night unable to sleep, too restless from being in a bed that wasn’t his, a house that wasn’t his.

  And, he couldn’t get a pair of golden eyes out of his head. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to.

  He touched his lips once again, lips still aching for Creed’s taste, still echoing his touch like a phantom limb his body forgot. He should forget Creed, forego any involvement. Now was not the time to begin a relationship with anyone.

  Yes, if Creed showed up tomorrow as promised, Lucas would tell him this was not going to happen. Lucas turned over and slammed his eyes shut, determined to go to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Lucas awoke to the buzzing of his phone as it danced its way toward him, jittering and hopping, eager to grasp his attention. He knew even before he touched the button it would be the first of many well-meaning intrusions.

  As if they planned it that way, his family began the calls and texts to check on his mental health—one right after the other. Their intent to encourage him to keep looking, to tell him Mr. Right was beneath his nose, to remember the silver lining—all swaddled in strangling words of love and endearments.

  Lucas had the phone to his ear when he glanced up to see Anthony walk by the partially open door. When he realized Lucas was awake he returned and used his shoulder to open the door wider. Leaning against the doorway, he folded his arms, his wide biceps prominent against his broad chest and lifted his brow.

  Lucas nodded back he was fine and prepared to settle into more words of advice and solidarity. He heard Anthony’s footsteps as he walked away and turned over, pulling the covers up to his neck, turtling in.

  They needed hmms and sighs, breaths of acknowledgment. After all, they weren’t even really listening to him, so he just made the required tones, mentioned a word or two. All the while he was remembering his time with Creed. When he drew his tongue along his lips, he still felt the kiss that had sent him into orbit. The sound he let out then was not a verbal cue he was listening, not at all.

  “Luca Luca! What are you thinking about?” his younger sister Myra queried teasingly.

  Lucas had spoken to his mother and father who wanted to schedule dinner soon, and to his Aunt Alannah who mentioned a friend whose son who would be wonderful for her favorite nephew to meet. He’d received a text consisting of hearts and other emoticons from a cousin or three.

  Oh, and he shouldn’t forget the prayer for his soul from his sister, Yolanda. She saw this as a perfect moment to remind him he was going to hell, but it wasn’t too late for his soul to be saved.

  In fact, she and her husband would be glad to come pick him up and take him to their church where he could be doused in cooking oil and sent up to heaven like a basted chicken. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly that, but it was damned close.

  He’d deleted that message as fast as he’d read it, wondering how the hell the crazy woman had even gotten his number. Now, he was on the phone with Myra, his doting youngest sister who’d ratted him out to their brother, the imp.

  Myra was at Cornell, one of the top five universities for veterinary school. Her schedule was overwhelming with working at a local pizza shop, caring for a few animals on the side, dating one guy or another, and still maintaining a significantly tough schedule of classes.

  None of that stopped her from checking on her big brother when she was worried, though. Of all the people he’d spoken to for the last few hours, Myra was the one who tracked his every word, his every exhalation, and his highs and lows. He’d be foolish to try to sidetrack her. But, that didn’t stop him from trying.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Really, Luca Luca?” Myra’s name for her older brother, a nickname she’d given Lucas when she was still in diapers, dripped with sarcasm over the phone. “Well, let me think. I was detailing the differences in animal poop, you know, to see if you were even listening to me. Then I hear that nasty little sound you did just now, and I know you weren’t paying attention to me at all or to the amount of poop a Great Dane can produce—especially when a toddler’s in the home happily feeding him whatever falls from his tray.” He waited while she took a breath. “So, give.”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Fine. You don’t want to share. That’s okay. Just remember, big brother. I have spies. I see all. I know all.” He groaned as her tone neared the overly dramatic ones used on those terrible night time shows she watched.

  “You’ll speak to Anthony.” Lucas knew they’d gang up on him.

  “Well, yes. But, others are out there, people you’ll never know about, people who—”

  “You’ve been watching Person of Interest again, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, Lucas,” Myra’s disparaging tut-tut made him smile, the way an older brother would when his baby sister was pitying him on his lack of drama television viewing.

  “I’ve got to run for now. Classes, then work at three. And, poop duty.” She paused. “No pun intended.”

  After promises to call again, Lucas settled back and looked up at the ceiling, turning to the doorway when Anthony crossed the threshold.

  “Gotta’ run. You good for now?”

  His brother was wearing all black today. With the heat spiking as it was, Lucas suspected Anthony had reasons for his attire. Reasons he wasn’t able to share, ones involving details it was best Lucas not know.

  While the family all accepted that law enforcement was the perfect place for Anthony’s skillset, their worries never stopped—with the way things were going these days. But, Anthony was good at his job. He was needed, and no one would try and take that away from him.

  “Yes, I’ll stick around here. It’s not like I have plans. Maybe I’ll harass your kitty while I’m here.”

  Anthony’s irascible cat was slinking around somewhere, lying in wait. For the most part, the little beast was pleasant and only needed a gentle scratching along her spine, but there were other times when she would go psycho, claws released and ready to terrify her victims. She liked Lucas, though. Even now, he saw her peeking out from the corner of the room, searching him out.

  “Don’t know why I keep her around. It’s not as if she even likes me,” Anthony said as he scanned the room for his little baby. He loved that cat, had rushed her to the hospital once and called Lucas terrified when she’d gotten sick from a bowl of milk. Anthony read up on all the foods cats couldn’t have to be sure it never happened again, which is why containers of the most expensive cat food known to man sat in cabinets ready to be devoured.

  “You love your daddy, don’t you, girl?” Chester Cheetah turned over and faced the wall, her legs pawing the air before she stretched out and rested her head back on the floor.

  “Yeah, loves to eat me. I’ve got more wounds from my own cat than any perp I’ve met on the streets.” Anthony sighed. “Okay. I’m going. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Food’s in the cabinet for Chester and the fridge for you. Remote’s on the coffee table. Text me if you need me. If I don’t respond…”

  “I know. I’ll wait to
hear from you.” Anthony nodded. Checking his pocket for his wallet, Lucas assumed, he exited the room shutting the door behind him.

  Lucas threw his legs over the side of the bed, stood and stretched. “Come on, Chester.” Obediently, the orange and black Maine Coon rose and followed Lucas after he opened the door. “You know, you should be more appreciative of your human. He gives you a home and feeds you, after all. Gives you the good stuff, too.”

  Lucas went to the pantry, pulled down one of Chester Cheetah’s cans of food and placed it beneath the automatic can opener. He edged the container of gourmet tidbits over to the Maine Coon who ignored it and slunk off to find another corner to occupy.

  “I know. You’d rather be out hunting down your own prey. Completely understandable.” Deciding a glass of orange juice was all he wanted, for now, he took that with him into the den along with a sheaf of papers to look through. It wasn’t long before Chester’s snores were heard, white noise, as he poured over suggestions for the new curriculum for the upcoming fall semester.

  An hour into his peers’ suggestions, and the ones the dean demanded, he jumped when he heard a loud bang on the door. Startled, the glass he’d held at his lips fell and Lucas quickly snatched up a shirt lying nearby, sopping up the liquid from the hardwood floor.

  When the person knocked on the door again, the sounds reverberating against the walls, Lucas sighed heavily with frustration and stormed to the door.

  Surely, if this was a friend of Anthony’s, he had to know his brother wasn’t home. But, he supposed it might be a solicitor, someone hoping to repair a roof or replace windows, sell mulch. Whoever it was, if they didn’t stop knocking, Lucas might be forced to do something rude.

  Foregoing looking through the peephole or pulling back the curtain, he threw open the door prepared to launch into a verbal address none had heard since William the Conqueror gave his speech before the Battle of Hastings.

  But, instead of someone holding a clipboard ready to extol the virtues of new siding, there was a grinning Creed, hands in his board shorts, a powder blue tank top taut over his muscular frame.