All Cocks Stories Box Set Volume 2

by Smith,T. M.

“We would start with less invasive visuals. A video of the atmosphere and scenery similar to where you were stationed. Something where your eyes would see that familiar landscape, your ears would hear the familiar sounds of people speaking the language. The key to making this work is to trigger those memories and bring them to the forefront in a safe and secure environment. Then gradually introduce stronger visuals, up to and including gunfire and explosions.” Tristan paused, giving Micah a moment to freak the fuck out again.

  Micah closed his eyes and placed his hands on Tristan’s desk for support, his body visibly shaken. “Jesus Christ Tris, you just saying the words gunfire and explosion makes me want to curl up into a ball and die. But you know what?” Micah pushed himself up, standing tall and defiant. “I’m so tired of having to live my life around my limitations because of what happened to me over there. Okay, let’s do this. I mean, seriously, I couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?” Micah asked with a small laugh.

  Chapter 11 | Shenanigans

  Micah was sitting at a table in the breakroom at All Cocks studios with Chris and Linc eating lunch when Gabe, Mattie and Colton strolled in. The three of them were chattering away, at times talking over each other, or all three talking at once. Micah tried to keep up — something about a wedding, the brownstone and a Billy Joel concert. Micah’s head was already starting to protest the noise when Chris started whistling the tune “Three Blind Mice”.

  For whatever reason, it worked; conversation stilled for a few brief moments. Then Chris starting singing, “Three blonde twinks, three blonde twinks, see how they run, see how they run.”

  Gabe threw a grape at Chris — he opened his mouth and caught it, saying thank you as he chewed. Mattie looked indignant. He hated being called a twink, which is exactly why Chris had done it.

  Colton was nonplussed. “That the best you got, loser?” Chris grabbed his friend and tucked Colton’s head under his arm, holding him in place and giving him a noogie, while Colton shrieked and flailed, actively trying to break free of Chris’s hold.

  Micah and Linc laughed at the two men; it was a daily occurrence with this lot. Chris finally released Colton with a shove and a kiss, drawing a growl from his friend. They all sat and ate lunch, talking about shoots and class schedules. Gabe was filling Micah in on the Billy Joel concert, asking if he thought they should invite Tristan when a deep, rumbling laugh that meant nothing but trouble caught their attention.

  Chris was hunched over a stack of papers, filling them out and cackling every few seconds. “What are you doing?” Linc asked his boyfriend.

  “Filling out the updated All Cocks INC. application,” Chris replied, his words followed by a rambunctious laugh.

  “Give me that,” Linc barked, snatching the piece of paper out of his lover’s hand.

  He read aloud to everyone at the table, “All Cocks INC. blah, blah, blah.” Linc muttered the different sections out loud, until he came across something on the paper that had him laughing out loud as well. He sat the piece of paper on the table, spun it where the four of them could see and pointed at a section toward the bottom.

  There was a place on the application where sexual orientation was listed, gay or straight, with a box the applicant could check next to whichever one they fit into to. Chris had drawn a third box and next to it written, Wibbly Wobbly, Sexy Wexy, and checked the box.

  They all laughed then. “Nice Mr…” Micah looked at the paper, grinning as he read the name out loud, “…Jack Mehard?”

  Mattie was laughing so hard he was crying. Holding his ribs with one hand, he shoved the paper back towards Chris with the other. “You’d better shred that before Victor sees it,” he managed to choke out around peals of laughter.

  “Before Victor sees what?” Andrew asked from directly behind Mattie, causing his husband to squeal and jump a few feet in the air.

  Chris grabbed the paper and held it out behind him when Andrew reached for it. Linc snatched the paper and quickly handed it off to Andrew. “Damn, that was cold,” Colton said to Chris, this time ducking out of the way in time to avoid Chris grabbing him by the neck again.

  Andrew tried hard not to laugh, smiling as he read the paper. “Nice, boys. You’re all crazy, you know that?” Shaking his head, he held the piece of paper out to Chris. “I agree; shred it before Vic sees it.”

  “Sees what?” Dracula called out from the doorway to the break room.

  “Nothing,” everyone said at once.

  Victor just raised an eyebrow, watching them all with a sardonic glare. Andrew turned and left the room, taking his husband with him, leaving the five of them to finish their lunch and, if they were smart, shred the evidence.

  ***

  Micah left the studio with Gabe few hours later to head out to the Ford dealer. Gabe wanted a car for trips back and forth from the city to the house out on Mamaroneck. The condo he and Gio had purchased just months prior to the shooting had sold, and Gio’s family insisted that Gabe keep all that money, even though he had only paid a small portion of the selling price when they bought it. Between that money, savings from when he still did shoots and his current salary as a producer and editor for All Cocks INC., he had a substantial balance in his account.

  Gabe chose a 2016 Ford Edge, he and Micah spending the better part of an hour in a little office while Gabe filled out an unending amount of paperwork before they drove off the lot in the brand new, midnight blue SUV. Micah played with the navigation and synced Gabe’s phone to the car while they drove.

  “We should call Tristan.”

  “Let’s call Tristan.”

  They both spoke at the same time, looking at each other, laughing. “I got this; you concentrate on driving.” Gabe pulled his cell out of his pocket, pausing with his finger hovering over the call button. Turning toward Gabe he asked, “Are we going to tell him about us, about what happened?”

  Gabe shook his head, eyes never leaving the road as he drove. “Nothing has happened yet Micah, what is there to tell him? We messed around and we like each other? And why would we need to tell him anyway?” Gabe didn’t sound angry or perturbed; his voice remained calm throughout. It was more what he said than the tone of voice he used. Micah decided to brush it off and hit call, putting the phone on speaker.

  “Yo!” Tristan’s voice permeated the interior of the new car, blending well with the scent of leather.

  “Hey, are you busy? You want to meet us for dinner?” Gabe called out.

  “By us, I’m assuming you mean you and Micah?” Tristan asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Micah responded.

  “Sounds good to me, I was just about to call you anyway. I talked to Dr. Prescott today.” Tristan let the words dangle in the air.

  Gabe looked at the phone in Micah’s hand, glancing at Micah before returning his eyes to the road. “Okay… and?” Gabe finally asked.

  “Meet me at Mitchell’s. It’s on Vanderbilt in Prospect Heights. They have some of the best soul food in the city.” Tristan evaded Gabe’s question with ease.

  “Wait, what…” Gabe gaped when he heard the dial tone from Micah’s phone. “Did he just hang up on me?”

  “I think he just hung up on us.” Micah laughed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket, leaning toward the GPS and typing in Mitchell’s on Vanderbilt so Gabe could easily find the restaurant.

  Tristan was leaning against the building, next to the entrance when they arrived. They found parking and met him in front of Mitchell’s. Micah looked at the run-down building, frowning. He opened his mouth to ask Tristan where in the hell he had dragged them just as Tristan opened the door and the smell of fried chicken slammed into him. Micah sucked in a deep breath, smiling. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Best fried chicken in the city,” Tristan said, holding the door for Gabe and Micah to walk through before following them in. He led them to a table in the back corner where an older man with greying hair and tiny spectacles sat drinking a glass of tea.

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nbsp; “Gabe, Micah, I’d like you to meet Harold Prescott.” Tristan made the introductions, pulling out a chair for Gabe and then Micah before taking the seat next to his colleague.

  “Oh, Dr. Prescott, it is so nice to meet you.” Gabe said, shaking the hand Harold Prescott held out to him. Micah quickly did the same, nodding.

  “Please, call me Harold. This is not a formal situation by any means.” The man had a serious southern drawl, and when he smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkled. “So, Tristan tells me you’re interested in buying my brownstone, Gabe.”

  “Very. Well, that is, if the price is something I can stomach.” Speaking of stomachs, Gabe’s was doing cartwheels at the moment.

  Harold Prescott laughed, “Well, it just so happens that I’m going through a strenuous divorce right now, and my soon to be ex and her lawyer have requested I “unload” the property as soon as possible.”

  They were interrupted by the server walking over to take their orders. Tristan grinned at Micah and Gabe. “Do you trust me?” they both nodded. Tristan took their menus and handed them up to the server. “We will have three orders of fried chicken with mac and cheese and turnip greens.”

  “Well that just sounds delicious, Tristan. Make that four please.” Harold Prescott told the server handing over his menu as well without even opening it.

  “Oh, and bring us three sweet teas and a jar of pepper sauce please,” Tristan told the server. She smiled and left them to their conversation, returning a couple minutes later with three more glasses of tea, a pitcher of tea for refills, a plate of cornbread muffins with some butter tabs and a bottle of pepper sauce.

  Harold Prescott laid everything on the table while he took a cornbread muffin, cut it open and slathered it with a tab of butter. “I’ve known Tristan here since he was knee high to a grasshopper. I worked with his father, Shay, on a couple of cases back in the day and a genuine friendship was struck form that work relationship. Hell, all four of the Brennan boys were ushers at my wedding.”

  “Here’s the deal Gabe — after several months of debate between me and my lawyer, her and her lawyer, we have everything settled except for the brownstone. The judge has ordered it to be sold and the profits to be split fifty/fifty, then he will sign our divorce decree and I’ll be a free man.” Harold Prescott said that last part with a wry grin.

  “Still, I don’t hear a price.” Gabe cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

  The good doctor laughed then. “I think today is your lucky day, Gabe. My ex seems to be under the assumption that I want to benefit from the sale of our home as much as she does, monetarily speaking. She could not be more wrong. You see, I’m in the unique position that many men before me have probably dreamed of. I get to decide the selling price of the brownstone and simply turn over half the profit to her lawyer.”

  Gabe stared at Harold, mouth agape, eyes wide. Tristan chuckled, grabbing his glass and taking a swig to stop himself from outright laughing. Micah just sat and watched the three of them, his expression unreadable. Harold Prescott pulled a pen out of the inside pocket of his blazer, grabbed a napkin and scribbled some numbers. He folded the napkin in half and slid it across to the table toward Gabe.

  Gabe took the napkin and unfolded it, smiling at the number he saw there. He knew full well that it was his relationship with Tristan that was affording him this opportunity. He would remember to thank him for that later. An image flashed through Gabe’s mind, so brief it was almost a blur. An image of him, Micah and Tristan sitting on his big leather couch in the brownstone. Eating popcorn and watching reruns of Doctor Who.

  Harold reached across the table, covering Gabe’s hand with his, patting it. “All I want is the money I put into the home back, Gabe. Aside from that, any monetary gain isn’t important to me.”

  “But watching Margie flip her shit when she sees the check, now that is worth every damn dime.” Tristan finally spoke. “Or lack thereof.”

  “Right you are, Tristan.” Harold laughed, leaning back and draining his glass of tea.

  The food arrived and the table fell silent as they all enjoyed the first few bites of their food. Tristan steered the conversation in a different direction while they ate, sharing the latest drama with the Brennan brothers — there was always something going on there. Gabe’s face lit up when he told Tristan and Harold about his new ride, and Micah asked Harold his opinion on the VRE that he and Tristan were starting the following week.

  Harold and Gabe verbally finalized the details on the sale of the brownstone over a slice of apple pie and coffee while Tristan flagged down the server to get their check. Then the three of them were standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, waving goodbye to Harold Prescott as he climbed into his car then drove off.

  “Holy shit!” Gabe shouted. “Can you fucking believe this?” he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a grin plastered on his face from ear to ear.

  “Come on you, two.” Tristan threw an arm over their shoulders as they headed toward the lot Gabe had parked in. “You can give me a ride home.”

  I’d like to ride you home, Micah thought, his steps faltering. Gabe and Tristan didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, probably dismissed it as something to do with his prosthetic leg. Gabe gushed over his new baby, as he called it and Micah rolled his eyes, climbing into the back and closing the door, putting a barrier between him and the other two men.

  “For fuck’s sake Micah, get a grip,” he mumbled to the empty car seconds before the doors opened, Gabe and Tristan climbing in.

  Tristan was playing with all the buttons and gadgets, having an argument with Siri while Gabe laughed at him and tried to focus on driving. It afforded Micah a few minutes to think without having to fill the drive with conversation. The night he had spent with Gabe was amazing and he had wanted something like that with Gabe for so long. But now there was another player in the game: Tristan. Micah didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew he felt strongly for both of the men in the front seat of the car. He watched them having their pissing contest with the fucking computer and felt a wave of affection roll through him.

  Micah couldn’t help but laugh when Tristan leaned forward and yelled at the navigation. Shaking his head, Micah stared out the window watching the scenery fly by, thinking. While nothing had happened with Tristan, he knew there was a spark there as well. More than once he and Tristan had shared a look that spoke of something so much more than friendship. He sighed, careful to keep his thoughts to himself this time. I have to decide who I want to be with, unless by some insane stroke of luck, I could have them both.

  Chapter 12 | Not wanting to say Goodbye

  Micah was yawning not long after they left the parking lot next to the restaurant, so when they got to Tristan’s apartment, he took the keys from Gabe and told him and Micah they were staying the night. Proactively, Micah had added toiletries, his sleeping pills and a change of clothes to his backpack after they had stayed at Jon and Kory’s and he had not been prepared. He climbed out of the car and slung his pack over his shoulder, following Gabe and Tristan to the elevators in the buildings parking garage.

  The ride in the elevator up to Tristan’s apartment was short, thankfully. He and Gabe rattled on about the navigation system from hell, leaving Micah alone to fend off his wayward thoughts.

  Tristan’s apartment was a split level with a loft area upstairs for the bedroom. The living room seemed small, but cozy: two brown leather couches sat along the two walls to the right, a desk on the left and the kitchen straight ahead on the back wall. Between the living room and kitchen was a sleek, black chair with matching ottoman. A large flat screen TV was mounted to the wall between one of the couches and the kitchen, with no dining table in sight. Instead there were four stools at the bar that Micah could only assume was where Tristan ate.

  “You guys want the five cent tour?” Tristan asked, grinning. Micah and Gabe nodded. “As you can see, it’s not much.
But it’s home. Straight back behind the kitchen is a half-bath and the washer and dryer. Upstairs is my bedroom and the full bathroom.” Tristan walked over to a closet under the stairs that led up to the loft, opening the door and pulling out a couple of blankets and pillows. “Here are some blankets and pillows; the couches are actually really comfortable so you shouldn’t have any problems there.”

  Gabe excused himself, heading to the half-bath, leaving Micah alone with Tristan. “Wow, cool bike,” Micah said, just noticing the bike under the stairs.

  “Thanks, I used to ride a lot but not so much anymore. I really would like to take it out more, probably haven’t rode in six months or longer.” Tristan ran his hand along the handle bars.

  “I rode in some races in high school, and in between my two tours, but I haven’t been on a bike since…” Micah trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

  “Since when, Micah?” Tristan prodded. He was good at that, and it was annoying as hell sometimes.