by J P Sayle
“Shit, fuck, bastard.” Aaden screeched. Mortified when he sounded more like a soprano than a grown man, he tipped to the side, trying to get off his throbbing knees. “What the fuck was that for, man?” Aaden hissed through his teeth when Greg bent down and touched his kneecaps. He shifted on to his backside, gritting his teeth.
Glad he’d had the foresight to damp dust the house after sanding earlier, or else he’d not only be sore, he’d have been filthy, adding insult to injury.
“That will teach you. You know what they say: the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” The little hands dusting together had him growling, slowly rising when Greg stopped fussing.
“Are you all right, baby?”
Greg’s genuine concern eased his hurt pride as he shuffled painfully to the still open door. His cheeks pinked, horrified at the thought of someone seeing Nick take him down with such ease.
Where the hell had he learnt to fight like that?
“Yes, I’m fine, Greg.” Aaden offered a reassuring smile, trying to contain the grimace of pain as he moved. He turned his attention from Greg to Nick. “What have you been doing? Practicing some sort of jujitsu shit, so you could take me down? Well, you will need to mark this occasion in the record books because that shit won’t be happening again in this lifetime.”
His irate rant did little to remove the smug smirk from Nick’s face. Nick’s quick shoulder shrug as he stepped closer had Aaden holding his breath, his body bracing for more. His knees none too happy, protested when he locked them out.
“You, big brother, have a lot to learn about me, and that jujitsu shit, as you call it, is martial arts. I have spent the last five years practicing all sorts, but aikido is my speciality, with a side helping of kickboxing. It keeps me fit and helps with the stamina when I need to haul the heavy pieces of wood for carving.”
Nick’s revelation had feelings swamping Aaden. When had Nick stopped talking to him, confiding his secrets? Aaden felt lost as he stared down at the stranger before him. He looked closer. Nick’s blond good looks were still the same, but his eyes, they held secrets, sorrow. A sorrow that now that he thought about it had been there for years.
Why have I not paid more attention?
“Leave it, Aaden. This is neither the time nor the place for raking over the past.”
Aaden shook off the depressing feelings coursing through him at Nick’s quick assessment of his emotions. The closed expression Nick offered shut him out as he swaggered back towards the kitchen, an invisible closed door sign all but plastered over him.
Aaden let out a heartfelt sigh, bringing his attention back to Greg. “I’m sorry, my red-headed beauty, I think my plans for tonight have been scuppered.” Aaden suddenly remembered the text Greg had sent him last night about making him pay tonight. Aaden moved quickly, pulling Greg closer. He complained bitterly when the red puffball coat Greg still wore stopped his hands from reaching their target.
Aaden yanked at the slinky, puffy material, attempting to access the back of Greg’s skinny black jeans. “Would there be something sinful on under these tight trousers?” Aaden nuzzled his face into Greg’s warm neck, breathing in the familiar scent. Aaden’s body grew in appreciation as he flicked his tongue up the side of Greg’s neck when he gave a small nod. His worry for his brother was forgotten for a moment as Greg arched, letting him get better access to the satiny soft, pale flesh. A low moan rumbled out of Greg’s chest while his body vibrated under his large hands.
“Oh for God’s sake, can’t you stop that crap for two seconds? Aaden, put him down or at least let him take his coat off. The red is confusing me. I’m not sure where Greg starts and his coat ends.”
The cheeky imp tucked his head back around the door before Aaden could respond. Reluctantly Aaden stepped back.
Greg’s sultry smile his only warning as his pale pink tongue slicked up his red puffy lips. “I may have a little surprise just for you.” His sky-blue eyes sparkled up at Aaden, making his breath catch in his chest as he continued to speak in a teasing whispered voice. “I might have a little fetish for all things sexy. Something soft and silky that glides over the sensitive tip of my freckled cock, making it leak as it teases the head when it cups it, holding it tight like a fisted hand.”
A breathy moan escaped as Greg’s hips pulsed between them without making contact and had Aaden’s jaw bunching. His fingers curled into his palms with the urge to rip all Greg’s clothes off and see exactly what he had on under his trousers.
The loud cough that came from the kitchen had him realise Nick had heard every word. Aaden’s chest burned with the need for air at thoughts of his brother trying to poach on his territory. Needing to set him straight in no uncertain terms, Aaden put that on the ever-growing list for discussion when Greg left later. That sudden thought threw cold water on his arousal. He didn’t want to be hard when he had to share a bed with his brother.
Cursing under his breath, he bent, giving Greg’s flushed cheek a quick peck. Ignoring Greg’s tempting lips, Aaden offered a promise instead. “Next time we go to yours where there will be no interruptions.” His grumpy tone seemed to please Greg when he offered up a glowing smile that melted his heart into a puddle on the bare floors. The temptation to just say “fuck it,” and lock Nick out had him pulling Greg along behind him into the kitchen before he gave in to the urge.
“Come on. You’re far too much of a temptation.”
Greg bounced into the office Friday morning, his chirpy mood carrying him straight to his desk. Though why he was so chirpy was beyond him. He hadn’t slept for shit all week. In between his nightmares and the fact neither Aaden nor Max had a clue how to stop them nagged at him. Though he conceded not all of the dreams were nightmares, some were decidedly sexy. The ones where Magnus got nailed by the stunning sex Viking God, well, they just tortured him. With Aaden’s cock-blocking fucker of a brother making it nigh on impossible to get naked and sweaty, he was getting more fidgety than a cat on a hot tin roof.
Things had not gone well all week with the plans for naked sexy time. Hell, his balls were bluer than his bluest pair of jeans at the lack of action.
Greg puffed out his lips, blowing his fringe out of his eyes as he stared forlornly at the work on his desk. His earlier happy mood deflated quicker than a popped balloon. He tried to commiserate with himself at how fast the work on Aaden’s house was coming along. It was flowing faster than the tides could change. The kitchen had pretty much taken up all of Aaden’s and his energy since Nick’s arrival on Tuesday.
That was once Nick had got over his carping on Tuesday night, things had settled down. His emotions, on the other hand, had reached their pinnacle when Aaden spoke about his home as if Greg belonged there. The slow build of happiness glowing in his chest had spread at being included in every decision Aaden made with their home.
Our home.
Greg slapped a hand over his heart, the erratic thumping telling him exactly how much that thought meant to him. He really wanted it to be theirs. He was invested now, not only in the house but in Aaden as well. Each day that passed was harder for him not to say the words that were bubbling up like an active volcano. They wanted to erupt and spray that love all over Aaden, making sure it marked him forever.
Yeah. Forever sounds just about right.
For some reason, Greg had found himself holding back. Not sure if Max’s ever watchful presence hampered him. The thought of him listening in to his thoughts caught him at odd times. It had taken a few days to get used to Aaden’s sudden conversations in his head with Max. He had started so bad the first couple of times he was convinced Nick thought he had a nervous twitch. What he found odd was he could only hear it when he was with Aaden. Not once had he heard them when he was at home. He’d pondered this and asked Aaden when Nick had gone to get more wood from Tynwald sawmills. Neither Aaden nor Max had able to explain it. It was disconcerting, making him more anxious about what would happen when they finally connected, as Max called it.
Where the fuck had the time gone? Shit, I need to pull my finger out if I want to get my presents sorted and wrapped.
As he was lost in his musing, it took a second to hear his name being shouted.
Not understanding why Martin would shout at him when it was a pet peeve of his, Greg got up, scurrying into Martin’s open office. Going for humour, Greg put on his best He-Man impression
“You called, master.”
His smile died when Martin glanced up. The glint of hardness pinning him to the spot, his mouth dried as he attempted to swallow. Panic flared in his chest when Martin said nothing and Stuart stepped in behind him shutting the door.
Greg locked out his knees as they turned to water. The urge to run had him forcing himself to stand still.
Oh, this cannot be good.
“Can you explain to me what the fuck you’re playing at?”
Martin’s righteous anger had him at a loss. Confused, he looked at both men, trying to fathom what he’d done wrong. His palms sweated, making the urge to rub them against his legs nigh on impossible to ignore. Giving in, he slid his hands down. He hoped someone would explain what the issue was when his tongue seemed to have grown two sizes too big for his mouth, stopping him from asking.
Greg’s confusion grew when Martin tapped the file on his desk.
“You were tasked with ensuring the figures and data transfer for the CRS Excel spreadsheet were correct, were you not? Did you leave me this file yesterday, telling me it was up to date and correct?” Martin’s icy tone had a shiver run down Greg’s spine as his bowels turned to water in fright. He licked his dry lips, hoping it would help get the words past his fat tongue.
“Yes… Yes, I did.” His whispered response seemed to infuriate Martin further as his chair banged back against the wall, making the room shudder. His hands fisted at the side as he towered over Greg. The red blotches of colour spread as he got into Greg’s face, his hot breath ghosting over him.
“I trusted you. There can be no fucking errors in this work because once this is converted into XML, it’s there for fucking posterity. I thought you got that. Have I not drummed that into your thick skull?”
“Hey, come on, Martin, I don’t think there is any need for that.”
Stuart’s quiet words had Greg turn towards him, grateful for the reprieve. But as he looked into Stuart’s disappointed face, he thought he might pass out. He could feel the colour drain from his face and his stomach lurch up into his throat. His meagre breakfast rebelled at its morning ride of shame.
“I … checked… I promise… I was sure it… was… correct.” He stuttered his way through, barely keeping the tears at bay when Martin thrust himself back into the chair. Lifting the file, he threw it at him. Papers fluttered around his feet.
“I beg to fucking differ. There are over twenty, count them, fucking mistakes in there. I only went to check for some figures Louise needed. If she hadn’t asked for those figures, I would have submitted this and not been any the fucking wiser.”
Greg lost in his misery, felt his stomach lurch harder at the mention of Louise, but he was so lost in his desolation he ignored it. Sniffing, he bent to pick up the papers. The ruffling of paper the only sound in the room as his trembling fingers gathered the paper.
Unsure whether he was going to lose his job, Greg stood, struggling to look at either man. “I’m so sorry. I double-checked the file and even used an encrypted file to check for mistakes before I went to London...” His voice trailed off when Martin grunted at his words, his eyes rolling in what could only be construed as a look of disgust.
His next words confirmed Greg’s thought and chilled him to the bone.
“If this is you double-checking your work, then what the fuck does that say about your other work? Fuck, am I now going to have to go over every file you have worked on to check for errors? What a fucking mess. Just get out of my sight.” The large hand pointing to the door had Greg fleeing. Tears he could no longer hold spilled down his frozen cheeks. The sudden silence in the office as he burst out of Martin’s office was telling. The door not being very thick meant they had all heard him getting his arse chewed out.
Paling at the very idea everyone had heard, he threw the papers down and ran to the door. Not thinking, he scampered down and out of the building. He swiped at his cheeks with his shirt sleeve. He didn’t notice his lack of jacket or the dark grey, heavy clouds and icy breeze that whistled through his thin, pink Henley shirt. He ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing him towards the car park housing his car.
As he panted, his breath fogged the icy air while he searched his trouser pockets for his car keys. Thanking the gods he’d not left them in his suit jacket. His body trembled, acknowledging how cold it was as he hit the car park. The dim grey garage echoed with the clatter of his shoes on the concrete.
The sudden vibration in his chest pocket had him remember he’d placed his phone there after he’d texted Aaden good morning. The tingling increased as he fished it out of his breast pocket getting into the car.
His chest heaving, sobs filled the car when he saw Aaden’s name light up the phone screen, a screen that had Aaden’s stunning smile beaming out at him.
Would he still want me after this?
Taking a deep breath, he swiped at the screen, sniffing up.
His pitiful sobs got louder when he heard Aaden’s concerned voice filling his ear.
“Greg, what’s wrong? Fuck, please answer me. Why are you crying? I can feel your distress. Oh God, oh Jesus, please answer me.” The climbing distress in Aaden’s voice had him giving a loud undignified sniff. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he answered.
“I… got… shouted at… I fucked up big time…” Greg took a big gulp, hiccupping into the phone as a monumental shudder hit him, making his teeth rattle. His thin clothes were no protection to the chill racing across his skin.
“Oh my God, what am I going to do? I can’t lose my job. How will I pay my bills and keep a roof over my head?” The more he prattled on, the worse the shaking became. Greg clamped his lips together, locking his legs together. His mind a tangled mess while he tried to figure out how he’d fucked up so bad.
At a complete loss of what to do, Greg heaved in a resigned breath, his shoulders slumped against the seat, and the back of his skull clunked, hitting the headrest.
“Greg, Greg, are you still with me?”
Aaden’s shout in his ear sunk past his misery.
“Yes.” The misery in that one word filled the car as Greg sat staring at the concrete wall, waiting for Aaden to tell him what a fuck-up he was and that it was over. Why would anyone as amazing as Aaden want to be with such a complete loser like me?
“Greg, stop that shit right now. You are not a loser, and I am not going anywhere.”
Aaden’s words registered a few seconds later. Greg opened and shut his mouth as his immediate problem was pushed to the side with the obvious elephant in the car.
“Err… did you just read my thoughts?” The accusation in his tone had a loud groan float into the car.
“Well, the thing is, it’s kind of part of the package. I have the ability to read thoughts, usually when someone is in my presence, but it seems different with you. I can’t read them all, but if I focus or if someone projects really loudly, like you just did, I can hear them. I mostly just block them and only listen if I want to hear them.”
As Aaden carried on explaining, Greg’s eyes grew wider. Chewing on his thumbnail, he struggled hard to remember all his thoughts. He parked his job misery aside and tried to jog his memory. His panic choke
d him when he considered all the naughty thoughts he’d had before Aaden and he had gotten together.
His head fell forward, hitting the steering wheel, his eyes shut, and heat filled his whole body at some of the things he could have projected, loudly. “Oh mother of all that is holy, why me.”
The quiet chuckle Aaden let loose had his head firing up and his eyes narrowed. His anger started to simmer under the surface of his despair. “Why the hell didn’t you explain all this to me before? I thought it was just the connection with Max. That when you or he spoke that linked us, and that I had to be present. I can only imagine the laugh you had at my expense…”
Greg shut up as Aaden thundered. Yanking the phone from his ear, he could still hear him word for word.
“Hold your horses right there. I have never actively listened in on your thoughts, not once. I can only hear you now because I had a vision…” The sudden stop in conversation had Greg glance down at the phone, thinking he’d been cut off.
Greg let out a gasp. The reality of the situation became increasingly bizarre.
Had he just said vision?
Greg slapped his forehead, convinced he’d somehow been transported to the twilight zone. “Vision, do you mean as in psychic vision, because seriously, you have to be fucking with me. And okay, you’ve done a great job of distracting me from thoughts of losing my job, but really, did you have to take it to the twilight zone?” Greg ended on a high screech, unable to contain the hysteria from escaping when all Aaden did was tut.
Greg listened as Aaden went on to give him a blow-by-blow account of what had gone down in the office. He recited everything that had been discussed. “I only get visions when I’m meant to help someone in trouble. Evidently today, that’s you. Come to mine, and we will figure this out. But I don’t believe what happened was your fault unless you think it genuinely is?” Aaden’s confidence in him wiped the legs from under him. If he had been standing, he was sure he would have fallen under the unwavering belief Aaden had in his abilities.