by Rick R. Reed
“Kind of like the Dog Whisperer?”
“Yeah. Cesar Millan is hot.” Christian looked over at him, pointedly. “I can’t resist a man who loves his dogs.”
Christian returned to Mavis. “I want to see you make this your forever home, Mavis. It’s a place where you can feel safer and safer with every passing day.”
Aaron loved what he was telling the dog, whether she understood or not. Aaron believed any creature could pick up on the caring in Christian’s voice; he certainly could. But he worried about Becca. He wasn’t sure she had really left the door open for second chances or a “forever home,” and Aaron was doubtful this one visit from Christian could change things so much that she would allow Mavis to stay after all, especially if she became a dreaded “repeat offender.”
One of the last things she had said, before leaving for her internet date, was, “I was going to wear those Jimmy Choos today too. Damn it. Those shoes were mantraps, I tell you.” She had laughed, but Aaron could hear the regret and longing in her voice. He would never understand how someone—his sister, especially—could allow a pair of shoes to take precedence over a living thing.
Christian held Mavis up and out to Aaron. “Here. You try.”
Awkwardly, as if he were taking a newborn from Christian, he took Mavis into his arms, cradling her and letting one arm support her along her soft and warm belly.
“Just talk to her,” Christian said. “Just like I did—let her know you care, but make sure she understands you’re in charge.”
Aaron met Christian’s expectant gaze.
“Go on,” Christian encouraged.
Aaron didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, continuing to build a bond with a dog his sister had first insisted go back to the pound. But Mavis was appealing to his kindness with huge brown eyes, as if she too were waiting for him to make his move. Aaron doubted anyone could resist those eyes; they were perfectly round, a rich deep brown, and stared out of a face that was all at once wise, soulful, and a little melancholy.
He kind of let himself drift into the dog’s deep gaze and almost forgot Christian was there. He certainly forgot about Becca’s wishes as he began to speak, gently stroking Mavis’s head all the while.
“You and me, kid. We’re two of a kind. Alone. A bit unwanted, yes.” He massaged her neck. “But the two of us, we have a lot to offer, don’t we? So we’re not gonna feel sorry for ourselves, are we? We’re both survivors too, and we’re not gonna let this temporary setback get us down permanently. We’re going to remember that life is a series of sunshine and rainy days—and no one escapes either. That’s the thing we have to bear in mind—that the rain does stop falling, the sun does come out again. It happens for all of us.
“It’s happening for you, little stinker. Right now. You’ve found someone who’s decided to give you a home, someone who’s made the most important decision a person can make—to love.” He let himself feel the solidity of Mavis’s compact body against his own and knew, right then, that come hell or high water, sisters or high heels, nothing was going to come between this man and his dog.
“And while you may not love me yet, I think you will. If you get no other sense from my words than this, remember—I am not going to let anything bad happen to you, ever. Not if I can help it.”
He released Mavis, setting her gently down at his feet, where she promptly curled up, calmer than he had ever seen her.
Gradually he came back to reality and realized he’d probably just made an ass of himself in front of Christian. What he had said to the dog was heartfelt, but what if Christian had seen his words as nothing more than Hallmark platitudes? He was lifting his head to give Christian one of his patented sheepish grins, when he noticed Christian already looking at him.
If Aaron didn’t know better, he would say Christian was touched. And not “touched in the head,” either, although he might be that as well, but touched as in something really got through to him.
Christian slowly shook his head. He didn’t say anything for a long while, and then what he said next wasn’t at all what Aaron expected.
“Can I kiss you?”
The question hung in the room, a present waiting to be opened, and Aaron wasn’t sure what to say or do. Certainly, Christian could kiss him—Aaron had wanted exactly that since the moment he had opened the door—but the request was such a surprise and from so far out in left field, it left Aaron at a loss for words. The room seemed suddenly very quiet and expectant. The rain drummed against the windows, the soft patter a comfort, making him feel warm and safe here inside. The refrigerator hummed. Outside, a pair of passersby laughed, cursing the rain in distant voices.
Before Aaron could formulate a response—how did one answer such a question, anyway?—Christian was leaning forward. He placed his hand on Aaron’s cheek and brought his lips to Aaron’s.
The kiss was gentle and sweet, just a hint of tongue that tasted of something slightly sweet and unidentifiable. Without removing their lips from the other’s, both men stood gently, so as not to disturb Mavis, who had begun to snore. Christian pulled Aaron close, the length of his body pressed urgently against Aaron’s, as if he wanted their bodies to become one. The kiss grew in intensity, making Aaron feel as if his feet were—just ever so slightly—lifting off the floor. He could feel Christian groping his way through his hair, then running his hand down along his spine, sending a shiver through him, and then groping his ass. That last move, though, did not seem out of line or crass; it just seemed, well, playful.
He could feel Christian’s need pressing through the front of his jeans and couldn’t resist rubbing his own cock up against Christian’s, the move nearly making him see stars. To keep himself from falling over, Aaron gripped the other man harder, mashing his mouth against Christian’s and dueling with his tongue.
Somewhere in the background bells chimed, fireworks erupted, a train whistle blew, a crowd cheered. Aaron was lost and could honestly claim he had never felt a single kiss so deeply or intensely.
And then it all got interrupted. By Mavis. She was standing, her claws scratching against his calves. Christian pulled reluctantly away, and Aaron saw immediately his reddened face, even more red and raw from whisker burn and the pressure of Aaron’s famished kiss.
Christian’s voice was hoarse. “I think someone is trying to tell you something.”
Coming rapidly back to reality, Aaron glanced down at the dog, who was pawing his leg with insistence. “When did you become so bold, Miss?” He looked over at Christian. “This is a good sign, isn’t it?”
“Very good. She’s talking to you.”
“But what does she want?”
Christian grinned, and Aaron noted that it was a bit lopsided, rising up more on the left than on the right. Adorable. He couldn’t wait to kiss that mouth again.
Christian asked, “You haven’t had many dogs, have you?”
“Actually, none. My mom would never allow us. She said they were too messy and that they—oh my God!—chewed things… things like shoes. We always had cats.”
For the first time, Mavis made a sound, soft, sort of like a cross between a whine and a tiny, gruff bark.
Christian said, “Let me translate. She’s telling you, I’m pretty sure, she needs to go outside.”
“Feel like a walk?”
“I think we could all use a walk.”
Aaron laughed. “Yeah, give us all a chance to cool down.”
“Whatever.” Christian grabbed the leash and harness from where it hung on a coat hook by the front door and hunkered down to get Mavis suited up for the outdoors.
Aaron slipped into his black rain slicker and asked, “Do you want a jacket? It looks like it’s still pretty wet out there.”
“Nah. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. I have moss growing under my fingernails.” Christian laughed when he saw Aaron’s shocked expression. “Not really. But I scoff at the rain and am proud to say I do not own an umbrella.”
“Alrig
hty, then. Let’s go.”
Two men and a dog stepped out of the studio, into the hallway, and finally outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and was actually very pleasant. There was a little snap in the air, but the drizzle, which was just slightly more than a mist, reminded Aaron of a poem he had once read, one in which the poet had commented that the touch of the drizzle was akin to being kissed. Not the way Christian kisses, he thought. That was like being hit by a tsunami. Aaron cautioned himself not to continue making the same mistakes he had before and to resist the feelings of love he was already having for him.
Surprisingly, Mavis was amenable to walking, even in spite of the chilly, damp air. “She’s a true Seattle gal,” Christian said. “She laughs in the face of a little rain.”
The trio made their way around the circumference of the lake, passing many runners, rollerbladers, bicyclists, and others walking their dogs. Mavis shied away from the other canines and their people but seemed very content to be with the two guys walking her.
“I guess it makes sense she’s up for a little walk, having been cooped up in that crate for God knows how long and then hiding under the bed for the past twenty-four hours or so.” They passed the aqua theater and boathouse, where they stopped to allow a crew carrying their shell down to the water to pass. “But it’s hard to believe she’s made such an about-face. I owe that to you. You have a magic way with dogs.”
Christian grinned at the compliment. “Ah… there’s nothing magical about it. I just know what kind of intonation they respond to. If they sense you’re in charge and you convey calmness in your voice, that’s half the battle.” They moved on, walking under a copse of pine trees. “How about with men? Do I have a magical way with them? Or should I say with this one in particular?” Christian poked Aaron in the ribs.
Aaron felt himself blushing like a schoolgirl. Apt as the comparison was, he didn’t think he was flattering himself. “Well, you’ve made a good start,” he said softly.
“Crumbs!” Christian shouted at the gray sky. “He gives me crumbs, when I want a meal.”
Aaron laughed and impulsively took Christian’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
They continued to walk through the mist, quiet, with Mavis leading the way, her little butt moving charmingly from side to side as she walked. “Girl’s got some junk in her trunk,” Christian whispered, and they both laughed.
Aaron hoped the change in her was permanent. He hoped a lot of things would turn out to be permanent, but the sensible, logical, down-to-earth side of him was setting off alarm bells and wagging a finger at him to proceed slowly and with caution.
So when they got back to his front door, he debated whether he should ask Christian back inside. Another kiss like the one they shared before and he didn’t know if he’d have the will to resist taking it much, much further. It didn’t matter that his sister could potentially walk in on them; he was just that heedless.
But again the voice of reason spoke up, telling him there was no rush. Taking things slow, it said, was the best way to test the waters, to see if they were compatible. The little voice, which reminded him of his mother, told him that even though all the signs pointed toward how great Christian was, his feelings could be just his hormones talking. He’d be so glad if he waited and didn’t allow his impulsiveness, lust, and state of utter limerence to carry him forward and into perhaps making a mistake.
All very good advice. Excellent. Sage.
Aaron turned and gazed into Christian’s ice-blue eyes. “Wanna come in?” he said before he could stop himself.
Christian’s pale-eyed gaze bored into Aaron’s own. He chucked Aaron under the chin. For some reason the gesture, while it could have been condescending or just weird, was intensely erotic. Aaron supposed any touch from Christian would be erotic, even one as simple as a chuck under the chin.
“You sure? When’s Sis due back?”
“I suppose that all depends on how well her coffee date is going.”
“A part of me says we should take things slow. Another part says that if I came inside, we’d be caught—literally—with our pants down. And as much as I’d love to get your pants down, Mr. Aaron, I also see you could be someone really special… and maybe we should wait.”
Aaron felt a paradoxical mixture of relief and disappointment verging on despair. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I was kind of thinking the same thing.”
Christian looked up and down the street, which in the drizzle and half-light of late afternoon was deserted. He leaned in and laid another kiss on Aaron, one so deep and intense that Aaron could not restrain himself from groaning, gripping the back of Christian’s neck. The heat radiating up from his groin to spread through the rest of his body was like a fire burning in defiance of the rain.
Aaron opened his eyes when he felt, once again, the gentle touch of two paws on his calves. He pulled away.
Both men looked down at Mavis, who, as though she was trying to tell them something, violently shook droplets of rain from her fur.
“Mavis wants to go in,” Aaron said.
“I do too.”
Aaron laughed. “What about what you just said—about wanting to wait?”
“It’s not me, it’s Mavis. She wants me to come in.”
“So if we blame this on the dog, it’s out of our hands, right?”
“You and I, we think alike.” Christian gently pushed Aaron toward the door. The three of them, heedless of consequences, crossed over the threshold.
Once inside, Mavis curled herself compactly up on Aaron’s blow-up mattress, her back against his pillow. She was a tight little ball and within a minute or two was a sleeping tight little ball. Her snores rose up, telling a tale of contentment.
“That’s good to see,” Aaron said. “She was spending all her time under the bed.”
Christian rubbed the back of Aaron’s neck. “And it’s very considerate of her to leave the bed for us, don’t you think?”
“That Mavis—always thinking.” Aaron turned to Christian, and the pair lost themselves again in lip-lock and full-body clench. They fell back as one atop Becca’s white chenille bedspread, Aaron pulling Christian on top of him. This had always been one of his favorite sexual moments—when a man spread himself out on top of him like a big blanket of hair, muscles, and sinew. It was especially nice when he felt he was falling hopelessly in love with the same man.
In a bit of frenzy, whispering filthy nothings the whole time, they began to tear the clothes from each other’s bodies. Aaron tasted the slightly rain-damp and soft skin of Christian’s neck, and Christian sighed. Christian came back with tonguing each of Aaron’s nipples, first one and then the other, then back again.
The whole time, their hands, almost like independent spirits, could not stop themselves from squeezing and stroking the other’s cock.
In no time at all, they were naked, sliding their lips over each other’s bodies, kissing, licking, sucking, and trying their best to push the other to ecstasy.
And Mavis was a perfect lady; her snores stayed level and she did not move, in spite of what was going on not two feet away from her. Aaron liked to think she had her boys right where she wanted them.
“So much for going slow,” Aaron whispered in Christian’s ear, then bit his earlobe.
“I’ll go slow once I get inside you. Got condoms and lube?”
“No!” Aaron groaned. “I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“I got some. They’re in my pocket. Let me get ’em.”
Christian had just gotten off the bed, his erection jutting out proudly before him, rising from a nest of blond curls, when both men froze as they heard the sound of a key being fitted into the lock.
Chapter 7
AARON WAS the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. There was no time to even consider shouting out a warning before the door swung open and Becca stood, framed in the entry. Her expression ranged from panic to amusement to embarrassment and back again, all in the space of less
than thirty seconds.
Mavis dove under the bed as if it were she who had been caught in flagrante delicto, leaving her boys to fend for themselves.
Aaron groped for the bedspread to pull over his rapidly deflating sex organ. The heat in his cheeks and along the tops of his ears was causing sweat to roll down his back and form along his hairline. His heart hammered in his chest. Was he really too young to have a heart attack?
Christian, on the other hand, appeared unfazed, facing Becca with his member sticking out, almost like it was pointing at her. “Hi, Sis!” Christian yelped.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Becca said, as if the spell that had frozen her in place suddenly shattered. She took a couple of steps forward to close the door behind her and gestured vaguely in the area of Christian’s groin, looking away. “Will you please put that thing away?”
Christian chuckled. “Funny you should say that, because that was exactly the plan I had before your brother and I were so rudely interrupted.”
“Oh. My. God.” Becca put her bag down on the floor and hung up her coat. Aaron guessed his sister was going through these motions simply to keep her eyes off Christian’s blazing nakedness. “Seriously,” she said to the wall. “Put some clothes on. Both of you.”
Christian and Aaron scrambled into their clothes. “Sorry, Bec,” Aaron mumbled, unable to meet his sister’s eyes.
Once the two of them were dressed, Becca sat on a chair while they took the bed, keeping a respectable distance between them. The air simmered with a mixture of tension, embarrassment, and the tang of pheromones and masculine sweat. If she had given it just a few more minutes, Aaron thought, staring down at his feet, there would have also been the fresh sea smell of semen. He laughed to himself.