Tipping the Balance

by Koehler, Christopher

  “That’s what boyfriends do, right?” Drew said.

  “Right.” Brad glanced around and then took a deep breath. “Drew?”

  “Yeah?”

  Brad dove in and kissed him. It was just a quick peck on the cheek, but it still made his heart slam. “See you later.”

  Drew smiled. “Bye, Brad.”

  Brad turned and headed for the coaches’ office and his duffle bag. He’d thought maybe he’d reclaim his old locker, but as it was, Nick had given up his own locker and was giving serious thought to restricting lockers to the varsity squad only. He made a note to himself to warn the oversight committee again that they needed to expand the boathouse.

  Then he saw what he was sure was his brother’s retreating back—Philip’s and his girlfriend’s. Shit. How much had they seen?

  Brad sat at the desk—he refused to think of it as “his” any longer—and drummed his fingers on the laminate top. The original builder had sure spared no expense, he thought acidly. Nothing but the finest quality plastic to lure people into mistakes with thirty-year mortgages. From what Brad had seen when he went snooping around the home sites, the concern for quality materials and fine craftsmanship extended to the homes themselves. Not even the pricey upgrade options changed that equation much; not even the better designers Sundstrom Homes had lured in with grand promises and fat commissions could slather on enough lipstick to disguise the ugly porkers for sale at Suburban Graveyard. It was a lesson he took into his work with Drew. They’d never talked about it directly, but he was pretty sure Drew shared his commitment to quality work with the best materials the budget afforded.

  When it came down to it, he knew he was pretty sure about Drew too. As sure as he could be about anything in a post-graduation life filled with doubt. Speaking of… just how much had ol’ Philsie seen? Brad’s hand on Drew’s back as he led him out of the boathouse before the dedication? Drew under his arm for that hug afterward? The kiss?

  The kiss. He must’ve been crazy, kissing Drew in public, right there in the yard at the boathouse. But then he remembered Drew’s smile. Ever there in that crappy sales office, the memory of that smiled warmed him. That couldn’t be wrong.

  But Brad’s guts still churned just thinking about getting caught. How could he face his family when he didn’t have answers to the obvious question? He didn’t know if he was gay or bi. He just didn’t. Yeah, women still kinda caught his eye, but so did guys now. That didn’t mean he wanted to lick any of them from head to toe like he did Drew. Did that make him gay? He was pretty sure it did. It at least made him not straight.

  The g-word and the pictures it brought to mind scared Brad. He thought of the crazy images he’d seen from Mardi Gras or that leather street fair in San Francisco, or that magazine one of his friends had shown him once when they were drunk after a frat party their freshman year.

  Those images still made him shiver. Was that guy trying to tell him something? Maybe find out if he were gay? The memory itself was too fuzzy, even if he recalled those pictures of hardcore bondage with perfect clarity. He knew that wasn’t him. Tying someone up a little just for play sounded fun, but not that hard stuff. Different strokes and all that, but not him.

  All Brad knew was that he was Drewsexual. Why couldn’t that be enough for now? Somehow he didn’t see Randall accepting that explanation, but what the hell business of his father’s was it? Just as soon as he could swing his own place, he was out of Randall’s house and his life for good.

  Speaking of Drewsexual… Brad wanted to be right then. A lot. His body did, anyway. The thought still scared him, because there’d be no turning back. You can’t unring a bell, after all, but Drew sure seemed to ring his bell. Firing off in his pants like that proved that much.

  No, the thought of sex, full-deal, all-the-way sex still petrified him when he thought about it, but where Drew was concerned, his body knew what it craved. He’d spent his life following his body’s lead, and maybe it was time let it lead again. Because all this worrying about it? It just confused him.

  He leaned back in his chair and let his body do the thinking. What did his body want? He thought of Drew. He thought about tapping that fine bubble butt, and he was halfway to hard before he knew it. There was his answer. It was time to do and not overthink. He’d leave that to Nick and Morgan.

  Damn. Enough of this. Time to get back to doing. He was going to take his boyfriend lunch. He knew Drew didn’t have a lot of time on these Saturdays packed with open houses and showing homes. Bringing him lunch would be the perfect boyfriendy thing to do. Fortunately, open houses were just that, and he could walk right in.

  Brad glanced at the clock. Close enough to lunch. It wasn’t like frenzied would-be homebuyers were beating down the door. His replacement would be there in a little over an hour, and he felt no need to hang around. If no one arrived to open the office, it wouldn’t be his ass in a sling. It wasn’t so much that his loyalties lay with Drew and Renochuck, although he could see that happening, it was that they didn’t lay with Randall Sundstrom and Sundstrom Homes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Drew closed the door to the garage behind him. Long day. He was ready for some rest and recuperation with his boyfriend. He loved being able to say Brad was his boyfriend. Speaking of whom, where was he? His somewhat disreputable-looking car was in front of the house. Maybe he was napping.

  Then Drew heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open. “I’m home!”

  Brad came in, wearing cargo shorts that hung on his hips like sin and a T-shirt that didn’t make it all the way down. Only an apron covered up the fine, furry belly and prevented Drew from embarrassing himself right then and there. “Hi, honey! How was your day?”

  Drew grinned. “Better now that I’m home. What’s with the apron?”

  “I’m cooking you dinner. Grilling, actually,” Brad said, grinning. He jutted his jaw out like a Neanderthal. “Me caveman. Me cook food with fire.”

  Drew smiled. He loved seeing this side of Brad.

  “Lunch, then dinner? That’s so sweet of you,” Drew said.

  “Yeah, well, you keep feeding me. I figured it’s my turn,” Brad said, blushing. “But lunch doesn’t count. That was just because.”

  “Well, I appreciate it anyway,” Drew said, tipping his head up to kiss Brad’s nose. “How long until dinner’s ready?”

  “Maybe another five on the steaks. Salad and bread are from the deli at the store,” Brad said, shrugging apologetically. “It’s nothing fancy.”

  “It’s food I’m not cooking. It’s my favorite meal ever,” Drew said.

  “You’re easy,” Brad said, snorting.

  Drew arched an eyebrow as he turned and headed for his bedroom and a change into comfortable clothes. “You have no idea.”

  “That’s dessert,” Brad smirked.

  “Ooooh,” Drew exclaimed. Looks like the night just got interesting.

  Five minutes later, the scent of dinner pulled him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he was pleased to see that Brad had ditched the apron.

  Drew came up behind Brad, who was standing at the counter gussying up the bagged salad with some croutons from a box. He wrapped his arms around the larger man’s waist and pressed himself against the broad, muscled back. “Thanks for this. That’s really sweet of you.”

  Brad put his hands over Drew’s and leaned back into the hug. “You’re welcome. I want to do nice things for you.” He shrugged. “I’m glad you were there this morning… it meant a lot to me.”

  “I’m glad I was there too,” Drew murmured, enjoying just being close to Brad.

  When Brad took his hands away to resume doctoring the salad, Drew ran his hands up under Brad’s shirt, drawn by the gap between the shirt and the shorts. He couldn’t help himself. He just had to feel that furry belly.

  “Someone’s frisky tonight,” Brad said.

  “If you had any idea what the sight of your hairy abs peeking out from under your shirt was doing
to me, you’d cover it up,” Drew said.

  “Oh, I think I’ve got some idea what it does to you,” Brad laughed softly. “I—ohhhh.”

  While Brad had been talking, Drew allowed his hands to roam further, up to Brad’s pecs. He flicked at Brad’s nipples while biting his back. The feel of muscles and skin and just the right amount of hair… yeah, Brad had it all going on. He ground himself into Brad’s ass and even tried to gnaw on his back as need rose like the tide. He knew he said he’d wait, but damn.

  “I said that was dessert,” Brad said breathlessly.

  Drew stopped his assault on Brad’s back. He looked up and laughed. “Sorry about the wet spot on the back of your shirt.”

  “And the one in my underwear. Damn, Drew. You sure know how to short-circuit my brain,” Brad said. “But dinner’s ready. You seem to like this big body I’ve got, and while I’ve got no complaints about that, it takes a lot of food to keep running.”

  Drew dropped his hands, albeit reluctantly. “What can I do to help get dinner on the table?”

  “Dishes and beer,” Brad said.

  “Coming right up!” Drew said, and in short order they sat down to a simple but tasty meal. “This is really nice.”

  “Thanks,” Brad said softly. “So how was your day after the dedication?”

  “Really good. The first open house didn’t have much traffic, but the second one? Wow,” Drew said.

  “Good?”

  “Bidding war,” Drew said.

  “What’s that?” Brad asked in between bites.

  “Just about the best thing ever in real estate,” Drew said with a shit-eating grin. He loved this part of his job, and for purely mercenary reasons. “It means more than one person wants the property, so I can drive the price up, sometimes well above the asking price. It’s rare to begin with, and in this market even rarer.”

  “Whoa, dude, that sounds harsh,” Brad said, laughing.

  “Maybe, but it’s just business. When there’s demand for something, the price goes up. In this case, it’s a great house and a fair price.”

  “Not for long, it sounds like,” Brad said.

  “No, probably not, and it’s not uncommon for people to drop out of a bidding war if the price goes too high,” Drew said.

  Brad looked puzzled. “So how do they know if they’ve won?”

  “The way this one works is that the two couples who definitely want the house, along with a third who might, have a fifteen-minute window tomorrow morning starting at 9:00 a.m. I’ll check in with my clients, but I’ll also let the low bidders know what the highest one was and give them a chance to revise their offer.”

  “Upwards, of course,” Brad said.

  “Of course,” Drew smirked.

  “Still sounds kind of harsh,” Brad replied.

  Drew shrugged. He took a sip of beer. “It is what it is—product and demand, and no one’s going into this blind. I represent my clients, the sellers of the house. The people who want to buy it also have people representing them. The only advantage anyone has is financial… someone’s going to have or be able to borrow more money than the others, and that person will win. It’s my job to get my clients an offer for as much as possible. They don’t have to take it. They could decide they like one bidder over another. I’ll advise them, but the choice is theirs.” He paused, thinking. “Think of it this way. Real estate may carry us for a while if we get the bid on the Bayard House and the city takes its sweet time paying us, so the more houses I sell for more money means freedom later.”

  “If we get the bid,” Brad said.

  “Then it means more leeway on flipping and renovation once you get your contractor’s license,” Drew said. Tomorrow would probably be a long, complicated day dealing with the bids, and he didn’t want to spend any more time on it then he had to. “So how was your day? You seemed kind of… somber this morning. Even this afternoon when you brought me lunch.”

  “I was, but that was this morning,” Brad said. He hesitated. “On my way out, I thought I saw my brother Philip and his girlfriend leaving.”

  “Oh?” Drew said, stilling. “What’d he say?”

  Brad shrugged. “He didn’t. I didn’t call out to him or anything.”

  “Your family,” Drew said, shaking his head. “So what’re you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

  “Why would I do that?” Brad asked.

  The thing that made Drew want to scream was that Brad was serious. “I don’t know… see if he has questions? See if he’s going to tell your dad? See if he’s got your back? I mean, he showed up, after all, right?”

  “He hasn’t had my back so far,” Brad said, taking a long pull on his beer.

  “It’s a wonder you turned out sane,” Drew said, shaking his head.

  “Who says I did?” Brad said, sticking his tongue out. “Besides, it’s not like it changes anything.”

  “No, I guess not,” Drew said.

  After that, they switched to safer topics like coaching or renovation for the rest of dinner.

  “So what’s for dessert?” Drew said once they were done and the dishes cleared. He knew what he wanted, but it had to be Brad’s choice. He was the one who had the most to lose, even if only how he thought of himself.

  “You want to know what’s for dessert?” Brad said, suddenly up close and in Drew’s personal space. He moved forward, crowding Drew.

  Drew stepped back a little, tilting his head up, and still Brad loomed. “Uh-huh.”

  And then suddenly his back was against the wall and Brad was pressed up against him, and damn if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever. He barely had his lips parted before Brad’s mouth closed over his, hungry, demanding, desperate.

  Drew made needy noises as Brad’s tongue pressed against his lips, demanding entrance, demanding his surrender, and he was only too happy to give both. He knew what he wanted, and if this was all Brad was offering, he knew it wouldn’t be enough, not anymore. Patience was the furthest thing from his mind as he wrapped one leg around Brad.

  Brad reached around to grab Drew’s ass. He hefted Drew up, easily lifting him, and Drew wrapped both legs around his waist. Suddenly Drew just loved having a boyfriend bigger and stronger than he, and Brad moaned appreciatively into the kiss.

  But Drew broke off the kiss. “Is this where you want this to go?”

  Brad nodded slowly. “Totally.”

  After this long denying himself what he really wanted, Drew wasn’t convinced. He knew if he woke up to a shuttered and withdrawn Brad, or worse, if a regretful Brad crept out in the middle of the night, he’d be devastated, and yeah, at that point, it was all about him. But he wanted nothing to poison his fledgling relationship with Brad and knew that regret would kill their romance in the cradle.

  When Drew didn’t look convinced, Brad said, “I’ve already come once with you, remember? And I’m about to do it again, and I’d really like to be naked this time. With you.”

  “You say the sweetest things,” Drew breathed before latching onto Brad’s mouth again.

  Brad smiled into the kiss and carried Drew to his bedroom. Brad dropped Drew back onto the bed and then fell over onto him.

  Drew could tell Brad was being careful not to flatten him, but damn, his double handful of big lug was pushing him into the mattress, and life was just so good right then. He shuddered as pleasure rippled through him.

  Since it had worked so well in the kitchen, Drew ran his hands back up under Brad’s shirt. He traced the planes and angles of the muscles along Brad’s back, the lats and traps that were so wonderfully developed from rowing.

  Brad bit his way down Drew’s neck to suck right above the collarbone. “Damn,” Drew breathed. “Everyone’s gonna know what I did tonight.”

  “Damn right,” Brad said. “I didn’t mark you well enough last time. I’m a caveman, remember?”

  “My caveman,” Drew whispered.

  “That’s right, your caveman… oooh, damn, you’ve got about a
million years to quit that,” Brad moaned as Drew brought his hands around to Brad’s front to work his nipples.

  “You like that?” He thumbed them gently, feeling them pebble at his touch. He traced the areolas with his fingertips, slowly spiraling back to the center.

  “Uh-huh… no one’s ever done that,” Brad whimpered. “Just you.”

  Drew smirked, thinking of another surprise that lay in store for Brad, one further south. “I know all kinds of tricks to make you feel good.”

  “I’ll just bet you do,” Brad said, gasping as Drew pinched them hard. “Drewwww….”

  Brad sat up suddenly, his eyes almost black with desire. He paused, like he was thinking about something. Then he reached down and tugged his shirt off, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.

  Drew could only stare. He’d seen Brad’s shirtless chest before, that day at the water park. Then, he had to be careful not to be caught looking. Now looking was entirely appropriate, and damn, did he look.