by J. M. Dabney
Priest glanced around before he removed his shirt, he loved every inch of that perfect, freckled and tattooed skin. Ginger hair thickly covered Priest’s chest and soft belly. The early afternoon sunlight coming through the open curtains glittered off small hoops through Priest’s nipples. The reddish-brown disks always looked hard and begged to be bit.
He thumped his hardening dick. “Behave, that ain’t for us,” He hissed.
“Did you say something?”
“Just talking to myself.”
“You sure you don’t need an appointment with my shrink?”
“I’m perfectly normal, man,” He pouted and walked back into the bedroom, Plague and Cyclops were curled up on the made bed. Priest couldn’t seem to leave the bed unmade.
He fell onto mattress wearing nothing but his towel, he reached out and scratched Cyclops’s folded down ears. She batted at his hand with her one front paw. He rubbed her silky black fur as Plague waddled over to get her petting.
“Jealous, little shit, let your sister have some love.”
Rat whiskers tickled his forearm before the fat rat laid her body across his hand. Priest’s laughter drew his attention, and he found Priest still standing there with his t-shirt in hand.
“You spoiled them already.”
“This is your doing; they’re your pets.”
“Uh huh,” Priest seemed to want to ask something.
“What,” He prompted.
“Do you—”
“Do I what?”
“Am I attractive?”
“Don’t be an idiot, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
“I’m not skinny or you know have six or eight-pack abs like the rest of you.”
“Zerk and Brody don’t either. Why are you asking? You’ve never worried about this shit before.” He didn’t like it; maybe Priest thought it was maybe time to date. Lucky sure as fuck didn’t know if he could handle that. Seeing someone else touch and kiss his pretty bear. For a pacifist, he had a temper, and it was worse when it came to protecting Priest.
“I don’t know; it was just—I don’t like when people pay too much attention to me. When men and women flirt it’s like my brain shuts down, but no one has hit on me lately.”
“Then they're fucking blind, because you’re fucking hot.”
“Thanks,” Priest smiled, but it wasn’t quite right.
He was about to ask, but then Priest’s phone started ringing. Before Lucky could grab it like usual Priest picked it up from the edge of the bed. Priest put it on speaker.
“Hello.”
“Is this Matthew Beall,” A male voice that sounded like he had a big thorny stick up his ass asked.
“This is Matthew.”
“Mr. Beall, I’m Dean Banning, I’m your family’s attorney.”
“Is everything—” Priest paused as he reached for Lucky’s hand.
Lucky didn’t hesitate to thread their fingers together and tug Priest down to lie beside him. Priest glared at him, and Lucky rolled his eyes. He saw his Bear putting on a brave face, but tears started to appear in his hazel eyes.
“I’m sorry to inform you that your mother past away a few days ago. Mr. Beall asked me to call and inform you, to let you know that the funeral is in two days and the Will reading is the next day on Friday.”
“I don’t have—haven’t had any contact with my family in almost four years. I would’ve thought I’d be left out of the Will, especially hers.”
Lucky tightened his arms around Priest as he listened to the words quiver and felt him choke back a sob. Maybe a part of his Bear hoped his mother would come around one day even if it was just a simple phone call, but not that was impossible. His fucking father couldn’t be bothered to make the call.
“As per her wishes, you are to attend the reading.”
“I don’t know—”
“We’ll be there,” Lucky disconnected the call and wrapped the now sobbing Priest in his arms to tuck Priest tight to his bare chest. Tears dampened his skin, and he didn’t care, he held tight as Priest’s blunt nails dug into his pecs. He ignored the slight pain and awareness that alone proved he was a bastard.
“She’s going to humiliate me. Even from the grave, she wants to punish me. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, baby, we can call him back say fuck her, we ain’t coming. We’ll go on the same as we’ve done the last three years. With you completely adoring me and lusting after my manly frame and hairy ass.”
Priest’s thick body shook as he laughed. He slipped his left arm between them, Priest’s soft chest hair teased his palm as stroked upward until he used his fingertips to tilt Priest’s head back. Their mouths were close; just a few inches was all he had to lean down—He mentally shook off the urge.
“But seriously, you don’t have to go.”
“I should at least say goodbye and see my Dad; there was a lot—”
“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m going to go talk to the guys, arrange for them to babysit,” Priest started to shake his head. “Your babies will be okay for a few days.”
“They’ll develop abandonment issues.”
“Plague and Cyclops will be all right, we’ll be back before they even know we’re gone.”
“Fine, but if they start to rebel it’s all your fault.”
“I’ll be the bad parent.” He leaned in and kissed Priest’s wet lashes; the thick fringe tickled his lips. “Get my laptop, my wallet is on the dresser, buy us a couple of tickets for tomorrow. Afterward, we’ll go find us some fancy clothes to wear.”
“I’m going to have to buy a suit and look awkward as hell; you’ll get or make some flowing, natural fabric outfit and look like a million fucking bucks.”
“Can’t help how sexy I am.”
“Has anyone ever told you your ego is out of control?”
“No, I’ve been told I'm quite humble.”
Priest pushed him, and he rolled to his back, a breeze from the open window blew across his now completely bare body. He rarely covered himself when Priest was around and he wouldn’t call attention to it. Tightening his abs, he curled upward and stood, grabbing his cotton sleep pants from the end of the bed. He lifted one leg than the other pulling them up as he walked out of the bedroom.
The TV played loudly in the living room, Gib and Peaches opened today, and it was one of the rare days no one had an appointment scheduled. So, everyone would head in later just to hang out and wait for walk-ins.
Zerk and Trouble were the only ones who appeared to be home, Brody and Landon were at work. Scary was probably at Brawlers with Tank pining away for their man Elijah while he was working in Atlanta for the day.
“We need you to babysit?”
“Finally going to get some, just lock them outside until you’re done.”
“Shut up, Zerk, Priest’s mom died, so we’re going to the funeral.”
“Is Priest okay, he’s never talked about his family.”
“They didn’t separate on the best of terms.”
“When is the funeral, maybe we can all—”
He shook his head at Trouble. He appreciated the offer. They were a family and always had each other’s backs. “No, I think it’s best if we do this alone. We don’t know what kinda fucked up mess we’re walking into.”
“Okay, but one fucking phone call and we’re on the next plane, got it?”
“Got it, thanks, man.”
“We’ve got the kids. They can come stay with us in the guest house. Princess will love to have them curl up with her.”
“I’ll send Herc over to chaperon. He’s strangely attached to your weird pets.”
“Okay, I’m gonna go get dressed, and we’re gonna head out to find Priest a suit. I bet he’s sexy as fuck in a suit.”
“You’re thinking about stripping him out of that suit, ain’t ya?”
“You fucking know it,” Lucky growled and turned on his toes to head back to Priest. In some fucked up way maybe this was a way for Priest to get closure, to let
the past go so Priest could move on. He jogged up the steps and to their room, he paused in the doorway finding Priest’s body curled around Plague and Cyclops. Priest’s eyes were closed tight as he sobbed quietly.
His heart broke as he rushed to the bed, laid down behind Priest, and gathered the bigger man in his arms. He pressed tender kisses to Priest’s nape, upper back, and shoulder, rocking Priest gently as he let Priest grieve. He soaked in Priest’s warmth, his clean scent and tried to give him as much of his strength as he could to the man he’d loved for so long.
10 DESTRUCTION OR REBIRTH?
Their delayed flight caused them to barely make it to the cemetery on time. To be honest, Priest wouldn’t have minded missing it. The more he thought about it the less he wanted to see his father or cared about what some lawyer had to say tomorrow.
The bright afternoon sun was cheery considering he stood next to his mother’s coffin at the graveside service. Everyone had a chance to say their goodbyes before they lowered the coffin.
She was exactly how he remembered. Even in death, she retained her ethereal perfection. There was never a hair out of place and her makeup flawless. Priest thought he’d feel something, grief or anger, yet nothing was there. Years of her mental and emotional abuse deadened the love he should have felt for her. She hadn’t even questioned the years of missed holidays or phone calls. Did she know what Andre did to him for four years? Would she have even cared? He didn’t think so.
He’d exchanged one abusive situation for a worse one. A shiver traveled his spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the sudden chill despite the hot day. The familiar and comforting scent of Lucky infused the air around him before lean, muscular arms twined around his waist. He relaxed back into Lucky’s strength and Lucky’s chin rested on the top of his head.
He wouldn’t have been able to do this without his best friend. Terror stiffened his body at the thought of being without Lucky.
“Shh, you’re fine. I can see your mind working overtime with shit you shouldn’t be worried about. I ain’t going a place.”
“Matthew, this is highly inappropriate,” His father William Beall’s disapproving voice almost made him move away.
“We don’t give a fuck what you think is inappropriate. Now you go back to your side, and we’ll stay right here until Priest is ready to go.”
His lips twitched, which was inappropriate, as his father huffed and quietly stormed off.
“What an asshole, are you sure you’re not adopted?”
“Lucky,” he admonished.
“Fake baby Jesus, I know that tone.”
“The Priest is eyeing us with the intent to exorcise us for our evil and homosexual ways probably.”
“Um, have you forgotten we’re atheists?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten, but at least be respectful, even if their beliefs are insane.”
“Fine, I’ll just stand here and rub on you until—”
“Luck—”
“Yea, yea,” Lucky dropped his chin to his shoulder and nuzzled the side of his neck.
He knew what his best friend was doing. Lucky distracted him when things got to be too much. As much as he appreciated it there were a time and a place, he knew Lucky had no idea about proper when and where. It’s one of the things he loved about the man—he never lied or pretended to be something else.
“Don’t you have something you want to say to her? Rage, something?”
“She isn’t there. It’s just a shell and memories.”
“Then that’s it.”
“But shouldn’t I feel something?”
“Baby, you feel what you need to feel. You haven’t had any contact with her and your Dad in three years.”
“I want to know why she hated me. Why she couldn’t love me or understand.”
“Some people just don’t have it in them. It’s a failing on their part, not yours. You’re perfect, and your family is at home waiting for us. Our weird little furry kids.”
“I want to go home.”
“Then we’ll go back. I’ll call about changing our flight.”
“No, I just have to make it through the reading tomorrow.”
“Okay, let’s go back to the hotel. Curl up and have some major snuggling. I’ll cuddle the fuck out your sexy ass.”
He turned in the circle of Lucky’s arms and looked up at him. “Appropriate—” A flash of sunlight off metal distracted him, and he turned to look. His lungs froze, and his chest tightened as panic built.
“Priest, what’s—”
Andre leaned back against a pristine BMW; he remembered the angelic smile, but now he wasn’t distracted by it, he knew what was hiding behind it. The sadistic pleasure in inflicting as much pain and humiliation as he could.
“Hey, hey,” Strong, calloused hands gripped his face and forced his eyes back to Lucky’s. “Breathe, pretty bear.”
“It’s him.”
“Him, the bastard,” The unnatural rage in his sweet pacifist’s voice pulled him back.
“Lucky, look at me, please.”
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“Ignore him,” It was taking everything inside him to listen to his own advice, but he focused on Lucky. He tugged gently at one of the locs laying against the white, cotton shirt with an intricate embroidered white pattern on either side of the pale wooden buttons. Fingertips dug almost painfully into his hips. “Let’s go, you promised me cuddles.”
“Yea, let’s go, do you want to say bye to your dad?”
“No, I just want to go.” He laced his fingers through Lucky’s and pulled him towards where they’d parked the car which unfortunately was in front of Andre’s. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him.
A continuous loop of every punch, slap, every time Andre used his body no matter how much he protested played inside his head. He tried to stay on his feet as his knees threatened to buckle, but he had to keep Lucky out of jail. Lily would disown him if she had to come to California to bail her son out of jail.
“Hello, Matthew,” The sickeningly sweet voice that said he was sorry countless time hit him with the force of a punch.
“What are you doing—” His throat closed, and he tried to take a deep breath. “Here?”
“I heard your mother passed and wanted to offer my—”
“We don’t give a fuck what you wanted, get in your fucking car and go,” Lucky’s body formed a protective wall between him and Andre.
“Lucky, you said—”
“Priest, get in the car.”
“Not without you.”
“Got yourself a pretty little guard dog, Matthew, how’s your job at Twirled World Ink?”
Andre knew where he worked, probably where he lived. He pressed his forehead to Lucky’s back and inhaled, he touched his fingertips to his thumb, counting as he inhaled and exhaled with the rhythm.
“Turned into some biker.”
“Lucky, I wanna go home,” His voice rasped out as his lungs ached.
“You may like playing your sick little fucking mind game with my man, but I’ll tell you right now, you won’t fucking win. You get off on inflicting pain, and I can guarantee that shit is over. Priest, baby, get in the car.”
Lucky’s hand came back and squeezed his thigh; he backed up until he hit the car. He watched as Lucky went toe to toe with the shorter, but much broader Andre. Lucky had his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t like Lucky’s anger. It was like the day at the retreat when he’d lied to Lucky, although this was much worse, this spoke of violence. He didn’t want to think about Lucky being capable—that’s when it happened.
“He needs a heavy hand. Gets mouthy when he’s allowed too much freedom—”
Lucky landed an uppercut with his left without Andre having the time to defend himself. Andre stumbled back against his car.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that,” Andre hissed as he surged towards Lucky.
&nbs
p; Lucky’s hand landed on Andre’s chest and pushed him back against the vehicle.
“I’m already paying for it because the man I love more than anything in this fucking world fears me right now. I care more about that than your bullshit threats. Now you’re going to leave him the fuck alone, or I know several people that’ll make your arrogant ass fucking disappear, got me?”
Lucky didn’t wait for an answer. He backed up as Lucky approached and put their rental between them.
“Get in the car, baby, we’ll go back to the room, and I’ll leave you alone for a bit.”
He only nodded as he took in the misery in Lucky’s gaze. Lucky opened the driver’s door and slid into the seat. He got into the passenger side ignoring Andre even thought he could feel the white-hot rage aimed his way. Even years later he knew the terror of that one look, and it promised punishment, but he wasn’t Matthew anymore, he was Priest except he didn’t know how to handle Lucky’s actions or if he could.
# # #
The soft tick of a clock sounded almost deafening in the quiet of the room. It had been hours since Lucky had changed quickly and left after dropping him off. This was the longest they’d been apart without a phone call or a text. They were practically together twenty-four hours a day, and he didn’t know if he could handle being without him.
He was still dealing with the aftermath of his panic attack and the knowledge that Lucky defended him. The violence still threw him for a loop. He’d never thought his fun-loving and laid-back Lucky could hit anyone.
His eyes were raw and swollen from crying. It was too much. His mother’s death, the unexpected reappearance of Andre and Lucky’s actions. All of it combined to warp his image of Lucky mixing it up with Andre. Now he felt guilty for those moments he feared Lucky.
He wasn’t a stranger to violence in his new life. No one could spend a night at Brawlers without a fight breaking out, but he’d always had Lucky between him and the fight. Lucky was always his protector. The first one to step in to make sure he was happy and safe.
After his mind cleared and his medicine kicked in Lucky’s words came back to him. Lucky loved him, but it wasn’t just friend-type love. The way Lucky treated him, the small things he did without thought. All the nights Lucky opened his bed and arms so that he’d sleep without the nightmares. Lucky looked at him as if he was Lucky’s whole world.