Bran bent and picked Ian up off his feet. Taking the kiss deeper, he swept the inside of Ian’s mouth like he was searching for his soul and maybe he was because like a dam breaking, Bran experienced a rush of emotions. A growl erupted from his throat as he dropped to the sand with Ian still in his arms. He covered Ian’s body with his own, not caring if someone came walking by or looking out their window. All Bran cared about at that moment was the feel of the man under him.
Ian’s erection pressed against Bran’s stomach as Bran slowly kissed his way down Ian’s neck. He began fumbling with the button on Ian’s jeans, when a hand wrapped around his wrist. Looking up into Ian’s face, he questioned, “Something wrong?”
“I need to know if this means more to you than sex?” Ian held Bran’s eyes for a few more seconds before looking away.
Rolling to the side, Bran covered his face with his arm. It was decision time, and Bran knew if he made love to Ian again, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. “I’m afraid,” he mumbled from underneath his arm. He felt Ian’s hand caress his chest.
“Is that why you left before?” Ian asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I just wasn’t ready to face my fears.” Bran removed his arm and sat up. Grabbing a handful of sand, Bran watched as a steady stream escaped from his closed fist. “This is love to me. No matter how safe you think you can keep it,” when all the sand had fallen from his fist, he opened it, “in the end, you’re left without it.”
Ian put his hand in Bran’s. “That’s why you need to hold onto something more solid and let the little stuff go.” Ian smiled and looked down at the small pile of sand.
Bran thought about it for a few seconds before grasping Ian’s hand like a life-line. “Can I interest you in some hot chocolate?” Bran knew he needed to get his lust under control and talk to Ian. What Ian had said somehow made sense to him, but Bran wasn’t sure if they were both on the same page. It sounded like Ian was after a relationship. Hell, Bran had never really even had one of those, maybe he didn’t have it in him. One thing he was sure about though, if a relationship was possible, it would be with Ian.
Standing, Ian tried to pull Bran up. Chuckling, Bran stood on his own accord. No way could Ian lift him. Bran gathered his blanket and the almost forgotten bottle and walked hand in hand with Ian towards his house. Suddenly the house didn’t seem as lonely. Bran glanced over at Ian. “I hope you know how to make hot cocoa, if not, you’re stuck with the little packet kind.”
That earned him a wink, “I’ll take care of you.”
Chapter Five
Dumping the blanket, bottle and all, on the floor, Bran led Ian into the kitchen. “So, did you say you knew how to make the real stuff or am I going to have to get out the little packets?”
Ian grinned, “I guess that depends on whether you have the supplies needed for the real thing.”
Rubbing his bristly chin, Bran thought about the ingredients. He hadn’t done much shopping for this surprise vacation, but he did have milk. Opening the fridge, he set the milk on the counter and started digging in the pantry. The only chocolate he could find were the little packets of instant cocoa. Bran looked over at Ian. “Well, it looks like instant.”
Ian jumped off the counter where he’d taken up residence while Bran searched the kitchen. “We can make the instant kind with milk instead of water. That’ll make it almost as good as the real thing.” Ian took a pan from the rack above the centre island and poured milk into it. Setting it on the stove, he cleared his throat. “So-um, do you have family around here?”
Bran was in the process of setting mugs on the counter when he froze. Family? Bran didn’t even know what it felt like to have family. “No, I was raised in foster care.”
When Ian didn’t say anything, Bran went on, not wanting to make a big deal about it. “I was taken away from my mother when I was six. She had a few drug related issues. After that I was bounced from home to home until I turned eighteen.”
Ian continued to stir the milk for several minutes, both of them lost in thought. Ian poured the hot milk into the cups. “I’m an orphan now, too.”
“I’m not an orphan. At least I don’t think I am. Just a kid no-one wanted for the long haul.” Ignoring the pity in Ian’s eyes, Bran opened the packages and poured the powdered chocolate into the mugs.
“Was there ever anyone who loved you like a son?” Ian inquired, putting his hand on Bran’s back.
Bran didn’t pull away from Ian’s touch, but he didn’t acknowledge it either. “Once. When I was around nine. I’d been with an older husband and wife for about two years. They started the adoption process, but then the husband got sick, cancer. Mrs. Tisdale didn’t think she could take care of her husband and raise a young boy, so I was sent to another foster home, adoption forgotten.”
The memories of being sent away from the Tisdale’s were still painful. It may have been over twenty-eight years ago, but it still hurt like it was yesterday. Giving himself a shake, Bran picked up a mug and handed it to Ian. “This is depressing, let’s go sit in front of a fire and talk about something else.”
It took a few seconds for Ian to follow, but eventually he was settled in a corner of the black leather sofa as Bran built a fire. “So how long have you had this place?” Ian asked.
Bran closed the fireplace screen and looked around the sparsely furnished room. “It’s sad isn’t it? I told you I needed a decorator. I’ve owned this place for almost five years.” He hadn’t fully realised until then just how pathetic it was. Besides the couch, chair, coffee table and floor lamp, the room was pretty empty. Nothing hung on the walls, no knick-knacks decorating the mantle. Maybe that’s why this house has never felt like a home.
Getting off the floor, Bran sat beside Ian on the couch and took a drink of his cocoa. As soon as Bran set his cup down on the table, Ian moved into his arms. “I could go shopping with you, help pick out some stuff.”
Bran kissed the top of Ian’s head. “I’ve been such an ass, why would you want anything to do with me?”
Ian buried his face against Bran’s chest and mumbled, “Because I think I’m falling for you, if I haven’t already.”
Bran’s hands stilled on Ian’s back. Ian is falling in love with me? Bran closed his eyes and let the feeling soak in for a few moments. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really been loved. Hell, he didn’t even understand what the word meant. Sure he’d heard it bandied around here and there, but he didn’t know that he’d ever actually felt it. Bran never let anyone close enough to acquire feelings for him, not since the Tisdale’s.
Wrapping his arms around Ian, Bran squeezed. “I wish I could tell you the same thing, but I can’t, not yet. I feel something, that much is evident by my appearance I’m sure,” he chuckled, although the laughter never reached his eyes. “Do you think…” Bran sighed. “I’d like to see you, but I can’t offer any promises.”
Shifting, Ian straddled Bran’s lap and cupped his cheeks. “I never asked for promises, just a chance to spend time with you.” Ian leaned in and kissed him, Bran’s lips opening immediately as Ian’s tongue explored the inside of his mouth.
When Ian started to move and swivel his hips in Bran’s lap, Bran closed his eyes and thrust up. He captured Ian’s tongue, sucking on it as Ian scrambled to release their cocks from the confines of their jeans. Cool air hit his shaft seconds before he felt Ian’s tight grip.
Releasing Ian’s tongue, Bran rested his head on the back of the couch and gave himself up to the sensations of Ian’s hand and mouth as he licked and nipped at Bran’s neck. Ian’s cock slid alongside of Bran’s, as two hands wrapped around the girth of both hard-ons.
The heat of Ian’s fist wasn’t what he longed for and he opened his eyes. “I want in,” he growled. Shifting, Bran went to reach for his wallet and realised it was in the bedroom. “Condom?” he asked, hoping like hell he didn’t have to get up.
Ian nodded, and pulled out his billfold. Bran noticed Ian’s hands were shaking as h
e dug out two foil packets. “Lube?” Bran asked with a smile.
“Spit,” Ian moaned, tearing open one of the packets. He rolled it down Bran’s length in record time before standing and shucking his jeans. Ian turned and presented himself to Bran’s questing tongue.
“Fuck,” Bran groaned between licks, feeling Ian’s body open for him.
“Yep, that’s what I’m hoping for,” Ian said, turning to give Bran a wink. With a good coating of spit applied, Ian turned and remounted Bran’s lap.
Holding the base of his shaft, he watched as Ian impaled himself an inch at a time. “Damn you’re sexy.” Bran squeezed the globes of Ian’s ass. Fuck, the fit of his cock inside Ian was so perfect. Bran would almost swear they were made to be together, one puzzle piece locking securely into another. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Would he be able to let his guard down enough to make a real relationship work?
As Ian rode him, Bran’s mind was all over the place. Visions of fucking mingled with domestic life with Ian. It was the shock of such scenes that had Bran leaning forward, biting at Ian’s pebbled nipple. He wanted to mark Ian. He lapped at the bite. Soothing pretty words came out of Ian’s mouth as he continued to ride Bran. With his hands on the back of Ian’s neck, Bran pulled him down, sealing his lips over the soft skin of Ian’s neck.
Thrusting up into Ian’s heat, Bran sucked a large bruise up on Ian’s neck. He knew it wasn’t a permanent mark, but it was his. When he released the skin, Bran looked into Ian’s eyes.
Ian seemed to know what the hickey had been about, because he smiled. “Yours.”
That one little word, filled Bran with more joy than he ever thought possible. Wrapping his hand around Ian’s cock, he began stroking him, paying special attention to the crown. Ian bucked and threw his head back, heat splashing Bran’s hand. “Gonna,” Bran groaned.
“Do it,” Ian said, letting Bran take over.
Pulling Ian down as he thrust up, Bran felt himself fill the thin latex sheath. “Oh fuck,” Bran growled as he continued to shoot and tremble. Ian’s arms wrapped around him as the sweet man collapsed against Bran’s chest.
Licking at the dark bruise on the side of Ian’s neck, Bran decided he’d definitely give this relationship thing a try. Anything that felt this good had to be right.
Chapter Six
“Oh, look at this one,” Ian said, dragging Bran by the arm towards an old kitchen table. They’d spent the last month shopping in stores all around Providence and Galilee. So far, Ian had managed to outfit the living room with comfortable, overstuffed furniture. What Bran had was nice, but it just didn’t fit in with the warm, dark shingled beach house.
Ian was having the time of his life, scouring antique stores and flea markets, looking for just the right pieces. Bran, bless his heart, pasted on a smile and obediently followed him from store to store. Paying for the items Ian deemed worthy of the beach house. He wasn’t trying to make it into a showplace, just a comfortable weekend retreat.
“What do I need another table for?” Bran asked, looking at the rectangular dark oak kitchen table.
Ian looped his arm through Bran’s and squeezed. “I thought it would be nice to use for a desk in your study.” Truthfully, Ian thought it would be a terrific place to work on his illustrations, but he couldn’t tell Bran that.
With a slight tilt to one side of his mouth, Bran nodded. “I don’t often bring that much stuff with me on the weekends, but it would make a great work table for you.”
Ian grinned, “Yeah? Ya think?”
Bran wrapped him up in those big arms and kissed him. “If you want something for yourself to put in the house, just say so.”
“Well,” Ian nuzzled his head under Bran’s chin. “I’d be more than happy to buy it, but yeah, I’d like a space to work. I didn’t want to seem pushy though.”
Laughing, Bran looked around before smacking Ian’s ass. “We’ve seen each other everyday for the last three and a half weeks and I haven’t tired of you. I think I’ll plan on keeping you awhile.” Bran released him and took a step back. “It’s a record for me actually. Usually a couple of dates and I’m backing off. But this time I have no such desire.”
“Good,” Ian said with a nod and a quick kiss. He liked that Bran was starting to open up with him, letting Ian inside his heart more every day. He knew Bran wasn’t aware of the looks he gave him, but Ian felt those looks with every beat of his heart.
Ian spotted two pictures leaning against the wall and almost jumped for joy. The pictures themselves weren’t important, but the frames were magnificent. Perfect for the watercolours Ian had worked on all week. He found the clerk and told her he’d like to buy the table and the pictures. Ian turned to Bran and noticed a look on his face.
“Tell me you’re not going to hang those in my house?”
“Nope, they’re for a surprise.” Ian made arrangements to have the table delivered the following weekend to the house in Galilee, but he took the oil paintings with him.
As they walked towards his jeep, Bran nudged his shoulder. “So do I get a hint as to the surprise?”
“The only hint I’ll give you is that you’ll have to wait until next weekend.” Ian lifted the back roll-up window of the jeep and secured his treasures. “Feel like getting something to eat?”
“Sure,” Bran replied. “How ‘bout trying Jed’s Steakhouse again?”
Ian wrinkled his nose and looked down, run-around jeans and a T-shirt were not proper attire for Jed’s. “How ‘bout not. Maybe we could go back to that chilidog place.”
“Sounds good.”
* * * *
Bran excused himself to the restroom as they waited on their food. Ian looked around the friendly bar, feeling happier than any one man had a right. His phone started chirping from the holster on his belt and Ian quickly fumbled for it as the bar full of rabid Monday night football fans turned to look at him. He smiled and shrugged as he flipped it open. “Hello?”
Ian watched Bran walk back towards the table, as Dr. Briggs spoke in his ear. Feeling like he wanted to throw-up, Ian schooled his face. The last thing he needed was Bran prodding him about the phone call. Ian knew it would be a deal-breaker as far as Bran was concerned. Bran had shared his fears with Ian over the previous month and from what Briggs was telling him, Bran’s worst nightmare could be coming true.
As Bran slid into the booth, Ian winded up his call. “Okay, I’ll give you a call first thing in the morning.” He snapped the phone shut and put it back into his holster as the waitress set their food down.
“Who was on the phone?” Bran asked, digging into his chilidog.
“Oh, I’ve got a meeting in the morning. It was just a call to remind me.” Ian picked up his fork and cut into the greasy looking food. His stomach rolled and he set his fork down. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” Trying his best to walk casually to the men’s room, Ian barely made it before he emptied the contents of his stomach. As he tried his best to keep his head above the toilet seat, Ian heaved again.
“Dammit,” he yelled, the sound echoing around the small tiled bathroom. Not now, please God, not now. He’d been naïve to think the early morning CT scan was no big deal, his one year anniversary present. A shadow, that’s all it is, he kept telling himself. The restroom door opened and soon there was a knock on the stall door.
“Ian? You okay?” Bran asked as he tried to open the door.
“I’m all right. Just a little sick all of a sudden. I’ll be right out.” He quickly pulled himself together and wiped his mouth before flushing. Standing, Ian took a deep breath and walked out of the stall and straight to the sink. “It must’ve been something I ate,” Ian lied, washing his face and rinsing his mouth.
Bran pulled a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser and dabbed at Ian’s face. “Nice try, but you didn’t even take a bite and we haven’t eaten for hours.”
Ian looked in the mirror, meeting Bran’s eyes in the reflection. He didn�
�t know what to say, sure that if he told the truth, Bran would run. “It’s kind of embarrassing. Nerves. It’s a really important meeting and I just don’t feel prepared.”
With an audible sigh, Bran wrapped his arms around Ian. “Let’s get you home. Is there something I can help you with to prepare for the meeting?”
“No, but you can take me home and hold me for a while. I have a couple of things to finish up, but I need you first.” If this was going to be his last date with Bran, Ian wanted to make it last.
Kissing him on the permanent hickey he seemed to have lately, Bran turned him towards the door and led him back to their table. Their dinners were in to-go containers on the table. Ian looked up at Bran.
Shrugging, Bran picked up the white boxes. “I could tell by the look on your face when you excused yourself that I’d need to get you home.” Containers in hand, Bran led Ian out to the jeep. “Give me your keys and I’ll drive.”
Nodding, Ian dug for his key ring and handed it to Bran before sliding into the passenger seat. He no longer felt sick to his stomach, just sick at heart. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the back of the seat. The jeep started and a warm hand cupped his cheek.
“We’ll be home before you know it,” Bran whispered.
Ian couldn’t look at Bran, knowing he was hiding something this important from him, so he kept his eyes shut the entire ride home. When the jeep pulled into his garage it dawned on him that he’d picked Bran up for their evening shopping excursion. “Shit,” he said, turning to Bran. “You don’t have your car here.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy and a cab ride is just a phone call away.” Bran unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to give Ian’s temple a kiss. “Come on.”
Legend Anthology Page 17