All Cocks Stories Box Set Volume 2

by Smith,T. M.

  “Here’s to a new beginning, for both of us.” Gabe held his bottle up and Micah tapped the neck with his own, nodding.

  “We need to make a list for the grocery store and I can go there tomorrow, don’t want to be ordering takeout every night.” Gabe said, hopping down and going over to a box that sat on the table, rummaging through it until he found a pen and pad to write on.

  He quickly filled the first sheet, flipping to the next and scribbling a few more things. “Damn Gabe, you going to buy out the store?” Micah asked, laughing.

  “Shut your face. We have nothing here Micah; we need all the basics.” Gabe continued to scribble on the pad. Micah nodded; this was true.

  “Don’t forget stuff for laundry and cleaning.”

  “That’s page two,” Gabe said. Micah just laughed again.

  “We can do the shopping together and have the cashier split the total between the two of us.” Micah raised one eyebrow when Gabe snorted and waved his hand at him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said the only way we do this is fifty/fifty Gabe, I’ll pay my own way.”

  “Fine, whatever,” Gabe sighed, continuing to jot things down on the list that was three pages long by now. He and Micah had talked, ad nauseam, about everything being split. Gabe argued that since he was the one signing the deed and getting the biggest room, they should split sixty/forty, but Micah wasn’t having it. It wasn’t until Micah said he would be perfectly fine just staying at Victor’s house indefinitely that Gabe finally relented.

  Micah hopped down off the cabinet, careful to put all his weight on his leg and not the blade. He grabbed the empty bottles and tossed them into the trash can Mattie had bought them for recycling. There was another can for trash, an industrial size box of bags for both, a Keurig and another industrial size box of the pods for the Keurig in their new kitchen, a moving in gift from Mattie.

  Gabe had stopped at the bodega two streets over from the brownstone to grab bottled water, juice and bananas on their way to the house earlier in the day. Between that and the coffee they were set for breakfast at least. They could stock up at the store the following day and then concentrate on getting unpacked. They were both sort of on vacation for the foreseeable future. Micah was off the All Cocks schedule for the next couple of months. Between moving and his VRE therapy, he couldn’t have concentrated on anything else if he wanted too, which he did not.

  Victor had given everyone at All Cocks the next three weeks off aside from a small schedule for Gabe and Chris to maintain the website and take care of emails, which they could both do from their lap tops easily. Victor was taking Andrew and Mattie on a safari in Africa for their annual vacation, so the shop was closed, so to speak. Micah smiled, remembering Andrew’s mini-meltdown when Victor told him he couldn’t bring any electronics other than his camera, iPhone and Kindle on the trip.

  The first few weeks flew by in a blur. The kitchen held enough food to feed a small army and Gabe seemed to enjoy cooking for them almost every day. Tristan had stopped by the second day they were in the house to hang the three flat screen TVs and some pictures on the walls. He smiled and joked, but Micah could see sadness in his usually vibrant eyes, and the smile seemed… forced. Micah knew something was troubling Tristan, and though he didn’t know for certain, he would put money on it being Micah and Gabe. Not for the first time, Micah mentally kicked himself for telling Tristan about what happened between him and Gabe. But not telling him didn’t feel right either. Rock – Micah – hard place.

  By the end of the second week in the brownstone, Micah was feeling better than he had in a very long time. The VRE therapy was progressing, and though pushing his trigger harder always left him feeling raw and vulnerable, facing his demons in the safety of Tristan’s office made it easier somehow. Tristan was still acting… off. The man had been touchy feely from day one when he met Micah and Gabe at Victor’s house. Since the night Gabe and Micah had stayed at Tristan’s apartment, something had shifted. The three of them used to do something every week, if not several times a week. Movies, dinners, disc golf or just hanging out, but nothing since the night they had dinner with Harold Prescott.

  Being busy had kept Micah from thinking about it, but now that he had, he felt very sad and hollow. He grabbed his phone and shot a text off to Tristan before he could talk himself out of it.

  Micah: Hey, you busy this weekend? Things are finally settling in at the house so I thought the three of us could do dinner and movie.

  Thirty minutes later Tristan still hadn’t responded. Micah tried not to read too much into that, Tristan could be with a client or at his parent’s house. Hell, the man could be doing any number of things. Micah grabbed a soda and some chips from the kitchen, settling on the couch to catch up on Arrow, and wait for Tristan to answer his text.

  ***

  Sexy Soldier: Hey, you busy this weekend? Things are finally settling in at the house so I thought the three of us could do dinner and movie.

  Tristan stared down at his phone for probably a good fifteen minutes. He had typed a response then deleted it, typed another and deleted that one too. He tossed his phone onto the glass table top, wincing at the sound it made, leaning forward to be sure he hadn’t just cracked his mother’s glass patio table. He snatched his half full beer off the unscathed table and fell back into the chair, downing the rest of the beer in one guzzle.

  He didn’t know what to do about Gabe and Micah. Hell, he hadn’t even realized how much a part of his life the two men had become, until they weren’t there anymore. It hurt, and he had no fucking idea what to do but step back and give them a chance at happiness. It was difficult to keep his distance the day he had gone over to the brownstone to help them unpack, hang the TVs and pictures, seeing how perfect the house looked with pieces of Gabe and Micah littering every room. It was painfully obvious that night that there was no place for Tristan in their private lives. The only thing stopping him from wallowing in self-pity were the VRE sessions with Micah. Well, wallowing deeper into the pit than he was right then. He was simply circling the bog of eternal stinch at the moment.

  The back door opening drew Tristan’s attention momentarily. His dad closed the door behind him, headed toward Tristan, two beers in his hands. Shay handed Tristan one of the bottles, laughing and waving at his sons T-shirt. “Nice.”

  It was one of Tristan’s favorites. A green T-shirt with a unicorn, a switchblade taped to his horn, that read I will cut you below the image of the killer unicorn. Tristan just shrugged, bringing the bottle to his lips and sipping this time instead of draining.

  “Your mom tells me you’ve been out here sulking for hours. What’s going on, son?” Shay pulled out the chair across from Tristan and sat, sipping his beer.

  Tristan shook his head, “It’s nothing to worry about, Dad. I’m fine.”

  Shay snorted. “You have never been a good liar, mac. Now tell me, what troubles you?”

  Tristan considering brushing his father off, but he knew better. Shay was like a dog with a bone, especially where his family was concerned. He would ride Tristan’s ass until he spilled. So he did, starting with the day by the pool and ending with Micah’s therapy session the day before. Shay already knew some of what his son was telling him, but not all of it. He always prided himself in knowing what was going on with his boys, so he was taken aback at not catching how attached Tris had become to Gabe and Micah.

  “I know bowing out is for the best athair, but it hurts. I thought… fuck, I don’t know what I thought.” Tristan frowned, picking the label off his bottle of beer.

  “Look at me mac.” Shay used the Gaelic term for son to get Tristan to meet his eyes. The slight bruising underneath his eyes, the same bold shade of blue as Sophia’s, told Shay that his son was not handling the situation well at all.

  “Do you love them? One or both?” Shay asked.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit,” Shay barked. Tristan flinched at the tone of his father’s voice.

 
“I could; let’s just leave it at that.” Tristan answered, eyes still on the bottle of beer he was scraping clean.

  “Look at me, mac.” Shay’s voice was much softer now, repeating the gentle command he had just spoken minutes ago.

  Tristan slowly lifted his head, meeting his father’s penetrating, all knowing, green gaze. “If you really think the best course of action is to walk away, then do it. But be an adult about it Tristan, don’t ignore the situation. All you will accomplish is building a mountain over a mole hill.”

  Tristan snorted at that analogy. He reached for his phone, grabbing it and firing off a text to Micah.

  Tris: Let me look at my schedule when I get into the office tomorrow and I’ll let you know.

  “Happy now?” Tristan stood and shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring the almost immediate vibration.

  Shay stood and clapped his son on the back, hard, leading Tristan back into the house. There was a big pot of Irish stew and a loaf of fresh baked bread on the table in the kitchen, a stack of bowls and spoons setting next to the pot. Tristan and Shay sat and filled their bowls, digging into the stew. Tristan welcomed the reprieve from talking and smiled up at his mother when she brought them both another beer.

  The front door slammed just before Jon’s voice thundered into the room. “Damn, that smells like Mom’s Irish stew!” Tristan looked up just as Jon walked into the kitchen, their youngest brother Rafe on his heels.

  “Where’s Kory?” Tristan asked.

  “He has an online quiz tonight, it’s timed and shit, he’s studying and getting ready for that. So when Mom called and said stew was on, I thought being here was a much better idea than sitting at home, listening to Kory cuss at his text books.” Jon laughed, hugging Tristan when he stood.

  “What’s up, bro?” Rafe fist bumped his brother before taking the beer from his mom and hugging her, kissing her cheek.

  The four men settled around the table eating and talking. Jon nodded at the singular bowl that sat next to the pot of stew. “You gonna sit and eat, Ma?”

  Sophia smiled and shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. The alarm beeped then spoke “Entry door” moments before Sal rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  “Hey Mama,” Sal wrapped Sophie up in his arms before nodding to his father and brothers, grabbing the last bowl and filling it to the brim.

  Tristan caught his mom out of the corner of his eye, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook next to the back door, then turning and leaving the kitchen. She lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, looking back at her brood of men and smiling. Tristan looked around the small round table at this father and brothers. He knew what this was, it was a united front, his family letting him know that they were there for him without making a big fuss. It almost brought him to tears.

  “Thanks guys,” Tristan mumbled, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth to stop himself from blubbering like an idiot. The four men looked up, nodded and smiled, then returned to filling their bellies. For the first time in weeks, Tristan spent at least five minutes not thinking about how much he missed Micah and Gabe.

  Chapter 16 | Letting go

  Micah lay in his comfy new bed, comforter pulled up to his chin, listening to the rain falling gently outside. He didn’t know if it was them missing Tristan, the stress of the move, he and Gabe both dealing with personal issues, the stack of boxes tucked away in Gabe’s closet with Gio written on them in black Sharpie — it was probably the culmination of everything. But he and Gabe had both been on edge the last couple of days.

  Micah could see the raindrops falling outside; he found it comforting. Quiet. The only light in the room came from his alarm clock and the moonlight that peeked through the curtains. A loud bang had Micah sitting straight up in bed, heart racing. He was ready to dismiss the sound as thunder until he heard another, softer bang, followed by sobs. Micah tossed the comforter away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing his blade. He had it attached and was in the hallway heading toward Gabe’s room in no time.

  Micah stopped, hand poised to knock when several small bangs and a scream echoed through the hallway. He rushed into Gabe’s room, “Gabe? What’s wrong?” The only answer was a gut wrenching sob.

  Gabe sat on the floor at the foot of his bed surrounded by the boxes that were hidden away in his closet that morning. “Tristan — He… he was right.” Gabe choked the words out between sobs.

  “Tristan was right about what, Gabe?” Micah asked.

  “Oh god Micah, why does this still hurt so goddamn much?” Gabe shouted, tears freely falling down his face.

  Micah lowered himself to the floor next to Gabe, grabbing his shoulder and pulling his smaller body over, tucking Gabe’s head underneath his chin. He rocked them both, rubbing his hand up and down Gabe’s back, trying to calm him. “Shhhh. It’s okay Gabe, I’m here.” They sat there god only knows how long: Gabe weeping, Micah coddling, neither speaking.

  Micah eyed the boxes and the mess that cluttered the floor. One box was full of albums. Micah hadn’t seen so much vinyl since he was a teenager, when he used to spend all his spare time at a local music store. Gabe had pulled just one album out of the box: Nina Simone. Must have been Gio’s favorite. Micah was a fan of the bluesy singer as well; her greatest hits album took up space on his iPod. There were books, magazines, knick-knacks and an assortment of small personal items either in boxes or thrown haphazardly to the floor. Micah bit down on his bottom lip to stop from laughing when he saw a dildo and a bottle of lube sitting next to one of the boxes. He hoped that one of Gio’s siblings had packed that and not his mother or father.

  Gabe sniffled, rubbing his snotty nose on the sleeve of his shirt. He sat back and laughed, but there was zero humor in the sound, more self-deprecation and loathing filling the room. “Sorry, I just…” Gabe stuttered. Micah didn’t press him. He sat with one arm around the smaller man, still running his hands up and down his back, wanting to comfort him. “I’m a goddamn mess, Micah. I thought waiting would make it easier — it’s been almost a year. I thought I could handle it better than this by now.” Gabe started crying again, soft sobs this time, not the full on loud sobbing he was doing moments before.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Gabe. Just tell me what you need.” Micah continued to coddle him.

  Gabe’s leg shot out, his foot making contact with the closest box, kicking it away. He turned and curled up in Micah’s arms again. “Can you make the pain go away?” Gabe’s voice was muffled by Micah’s tear soaked T-shirt, but he heard him clearly.

  “I wish I could Gabe, for both of us.” Micah kissed the top of Gabe’s head.

  Gabe’s body trembled in Micah’s arms. He leaned back and held Gabe out at arm’s-length, shaking his head when he saw that Gabe was actually laughing. Yep, he’s lost it, Micah thought.

  Gabe met Micah’s eyes, the two sitting silently, staring at each other. Micah groaned inwardly the second he saw Gabe’s pupils start to dilate, his nostrils flaring. Before Micah could put any distance between them, Gabe was in his lap. His hands were in Micah’s hair in a flash, pulling him close, kissing him intently. Micah gasped and Gabe took that as a clear invitation, his tongue sliding in, deepening the kiss. Gabe’s lithe body moved erratically in his lap: thrusting, grunting and dry-humping Micah.

  Micah was level headed enough at this point to realize this was a mistake of epic proportions. He tried, unsuccessfully, to extricate the sex kitten from his lap. Micah’s body, however, was all in apparently, his cock growing hard quickly. Micah managed to break the hold of Gabe’s mouth on his when they had to either come up for air or pass out.

  “Gabe, we shouldn’t…” That was all Micah uttered before Gabe was molesting his tonsils with his tongue once again. Gabe grabbed Micah’s shirt, loosening the suction of his lips just long enough to jerk it off and toss it over his head. Gabe’s shirt quickly followed and Micah found himself on his back on Gabe’s bedroom floor, his boxers
being dragged down his legs and flung across the room.

  “Gabe… Oh, fuck me!” Micah shouted when Gabe took the length of his cock into his mouth, licking and sucking the hard column of flesh. His mind was racing. Logically, this was bad, very, very bad. Micah knew that. But, fuck, Gabe’s mouth felt like heaven. Gabe let Micah’s cock fall from his lips with an audible pop, his arm frantically searching the floor behind him.

  “Yes” Gabe shouted, sitting back on his heels with the bottle of lube in hand.

  “Dammit, Gabe! This is not a good idea.” Micah groaned. His eyes betrayed his words, trailing down the length of Gabe’s body. Wait, when did he take off his pants?

  Micah tried to wriggle free of Gabe’s body, but he was straddling Micah, his leg effectively holding Micah’s blade leg down and keeping him off balance. Micah laid his head back on the floor, sighing. His head shot up when Gabe groaned. The sound was horse, sexy and full of need.

  “Holy fuck,” Micah croaked, watching Gabe stretch himself with three fingers. For the moment, Micah was trapped, weightless under Gabe’s spell. Their eyes met and Micah saw for the first time ever, a silvery grey tint to Gabe’s eyes that were brimming with want. Oh my god. Oh shit. This is really fucking happening. Micah’s brain was fried, his thoughts erratic.