by D. J. Manly
“Um, God, yeah … yeah … come on.” He swallowed, his cock swelling again.
Vic pushed the contraption in and out again a few times. Brody groaned, panted. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Vic, come on.”
The contraption came out of him slowly. Vic held Brody tight to his body and buried his cock inside of him. For a minute Vic didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” Brody asked.
“Nothing, I … give me a minute.”
“You’re not too tired?”
“No, I…”
Brody could have sworn he heard a sob, but then suddenly Vic started to move inside of him, his soft moans resounding in Brody’s ear. A hand came around to play with his nipples, pulling and twisting as he picked up his pace. He pulled Brody’s leg up to get deeper and then started pounding him. “Say you’re mine, Brody,” he grunted. “Say you’re mine!”
“Vic, Vic … yeah … yeah!”
Vic came inside him, filling him with his warm cream, which soothed the emptiness his cock left when it exited his body.
Vic rolled him onto his back and sucked his cock until Brody came as well, and then lay there tenderly licking him until Brody fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
When he awoke, the handcuffs were gone and Vic was curled up beside him. Brody moved closer to him, rubbed his jaw against his cheek. He looked so beautiful there. Warning bells went off inside his head. He had to leave today. He stretched his arms above his head, which prompted Vic to move his head onto Brody’s chest. “You need to shave,” he muttered.
Brody rubbed his face. “I know. Did I give you whisker burn?”
“Oh yeah. You make me burn all right.” Vic grinned, looking up at him. “Um, nice morning erection.”
“You going to do something about that?”
“Damn right I am.”
“Come up here, devil boy.” Brody pulled his mouth to his and kissed him hard. “You taste like cum.”
“So do you,” Vic accused, laughing.
“No wonder you’re such a star soccer player, you’re quick. You don’t miss a trick.”
He laughed, his hand slipping down to squeeze Brody’s cock. “I’m a winger. I’ve got to be quick. Wingers are the fastest players on the field.”
“Um.” Brody kissed him again. “Fastest players in bed too, it looks like.”
Vic moved his lips down his chest, pausing suddenly as the doorbell rang. “Who in the hell is that?” he groaned.
Brody checked the alarm. “It’s only nine.”
Vic swore, searching for something to put on. “I’ll get rid of them.”
Brody stretched again in the bed, closing his eyes, fondling his cock lightly. It was probably a salesman or something.
A few minutes later, Vic returned. He flicked on the light. His expression was tense. “It’s for you,” he said.
“Me?” Brody sat up. “Who is it?”
“Someone named Freddy.”
Brody blinked. “Freddy?”
“Your boyfriend?” Those two words could have frozen water. “That the reason you wanted to get back so fast?”
“I told you it was over.”
“Well, someone needs to tell him that. He’s really upset. He’s been drinking. And he told me he can’t live without you, so…” Vic headed to the door. “You better go to him before he dies.”
Brody sighed as the door slammed shut. Fuck. Freddy. What in hell!
Brody went to his room and pulled on some shorts. Freddy was sitting outside on the front porch when he came downstairs. His face was in his hands. “Freddy, what in the hell are you doing here? How did you know I was here?”
Freddy stood up. Vic had one thing right. He looked like shit. “Don’t leave me, Brody. I love you.”
Brody muttered under his breath. “I told you, it’s over, Freddy.”
“I came out to my coach. I told him no more girls. I told him I was in love, with a guy. Brody, I put it all on the line for you. You have to be with me. I’ll kill myself. I can … please, Brody.” He went down on his knees, sobbing like a baby.
Brody closed his eyes. He placed a hand in Freddy’s hair. “Okay, okay, get up. We’ll talk about this at home. Now, calm down.”
“Can we drive back together?” He wiped his eyes. “Please? I don’t think I can…”
“I’ll ask Vittorio if we can leave my car here. We can arrange to have it picked up next week. Give me a few minutes and we’ll go. Get in the car, wait for me.”
“Baby,” Freddy said. He hugged him. Brody patted his back and released him.
“Go on. I’ll be right there.” He watched until Freddy got into his car and then went back inside.
Vic was in the living room. He’d probably been watching everything from the window.
“He’s in bad shape. I’m going to take him home. Can I leave my car here until…”
“Sure. No problem.” Vic wasn’t looking at him. “He really loves you. He gave up everything, came out. That’s a big step.”
“Yes.”
“Are you happy?”
“No, I’m not fucking happy.”
Vic looked at him.
“I didn’t tell him to come out here like this.”
“But you’re going back with him.”
“Do I have a choice? I can’t leave him in this state. He’s not … stable.”
“You still love him.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I can’t just send him away. Listen Vic, I—”
Vic put up a hand. “It was nice. Now we both have lives to get back to. Just leave, Brody. It’s only natural I’d develop a crush on you, given how dependent I’ve been on you for…” He trailed off. “You can see yourself out,” he muttered and walked outside to the backyard.
Brody sighed. He almost followed him but to say what? Freddy was waiting and he had to take care of him, even if he knew he didn’t feel the same anymore.
Ten minutes later, he was in the driver’s seat. He cast one look at the house to see if he could catch a glimpse of Vic but the man was out of sight. He started the engine and drove down the road.
Freddy reached for his hand. “I forgive you for fucking him. He was a nice little piece of ass.”
Brody glanced at him and jerked his hand away. “You forgive me?”
“We’ve both done some things but that’s over now. We can be together. Brody, I’ve missed you. I’ve been an idiot.”
Brody kept his eyes on the road. It would have been impossible, Vittorio and him, wouldn’t it? Even if Vic did love him … did Vic love him, or was it like he said, just a crush?
“Are you listening to me, Brody?”
Brody flicked his gaze toward Freddy. “Can we not talk for a while, please?”
Freddy nodded, and they drove in silence.
* * * *
It wasn’t easy to make Freddy see that it was really over. For almost three months, Brody stayed by his side and helped him deal with his sexuality, even attending counseling sessions with him, but he warned Freddy that he wasn’t going to sleep with him again.
Sandra had told Freddy where he could find Brody that day. Freddy had confessed everything to her, and she told Brody that she felt sorry for him. Brody forgave her for that, but he wasn’t sure he could ever forget the look on Vic’s face when Freddy had showed up.
He’d driven back to Vic’s with Sandra to get his car but there was no answer when he rang the bell. So he just took his car and left.
What with the clinic and Freddy’s clinginess, the time flew by, and the only time he had to think about Vittorio was when he crawled into bed at night. That’s when he missed him the most. He thought about calling him but it was obvious that Vic didn’t want to hear from him.
Then one day Terrance Scott stopped by the clinic. Brody was surprised to see him. “Hey, Coach,” he said, “what brings you here?” He found himself looking expectantly behind him, thinking maybe Vic would stop by to say hello too.
But the coach was alone.
“I have another injured player, nothing severe, but with the job you did on Barilla, I’d like you to handle it.”
“It would be my pleasure. I’ll have my secretary schedule the appointment. How is … ah … Vittorio?”
“He’s leaving the American team. We’re losing him.”
Brody lifted an eyebrow. “How come?”
“He’s decided to play for Italy. He’s making the announcement on the sports channel tomorrow night. Keep it under your hat.”
“Why would he want to play for Italy? I know he’s Italian but he was born here. I thought…”
“I have no idea. He just came to me shortly after you left and said if he was in shape to go back to the game, he wanted to go to Europe.”
“It’s a long way.”
“It’s a big loss. He’s not going to be easy to replace, but of course the Italians are ecstatic.”
Brody was lost for words.
“Why don’t you come to the party tomorrow night?”
“What party?”
“After the announcement, the boys are giving him a send-off party. He’d love to see you.”
Brody wasn’t so sure about that. “Where is it?”
“At the hotel; here”—Coach handed him two invitations—“bring a date if you want. Now if you’ll just point me to where I can book those appointments…”
“Oh, sure.” Brody fingered the invitations in his hand and led Scott to the front desk.
Sandra was happy to be invited to a night out even if it was for a “bunch of jocks,” as she so carelessly called them. “Hey, that bunch of jocks constitutes the majority of your patients,” Brody said, laughing, as they got out of the car and walked into the lobby of the hotel.
Sandra placed a hand on his arm. “And how many of those morons have broken our hearts?” Sandra had had her own heartbreak with a basketball player.
Had Vic broken his heart, or had they broken each other’s? It didn’t matter. Vic was leaving. And there had never been any promises made. “And we never learn,” he sighed.
“Um.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, glancing at the huge glossy photograph of Vittorio Barilla in the lobby. “Like him. Why didn’t you just tell him you love him instead of wasting your time playing nursemaid to Freddy?”
Brody stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
Sandra turned him around and made him look at the picture. “Him. You’ve been mooning around ever since you came back like a lovesick puppy. Does he feel the same way?”
“It wouldn’t have worked.”
“How do you know? Did you try?”
He shook his head. “I’d been through crap with Freddy and—”
“But he’s cuter than Freddy.” She hugged his arm. “And you love him, honey. Why don’t you tell him?”
“Because he’s leaving.”
“Give him a reason to stay. Have you called him?”
He shook his head. “He didn’t want to see me that day we went out to get the car.”
“Come on,” she coaxed, handing the doorman her invitation. “Let’s say hello. I’ll tell you right away if he’s carrying a torch.”
“A torch?” He grinned, handing the doorman his invite as well.
Sandra giggled and pointed to some chairs where they were to be seated for the press conference. The room in the back was set up for a big party with a podium; dinner and dancing would follow the announcement. Brody recognized a lot of professional sports figures as he looked around the room.
When the lights went down and the cameras all began to flash, Brody’s pulse sped up. There he was, his Vic, his dark hair shiny and well-groomed, walking steady and secure. He stared into the camera and announced that he had been “recruited by the European Soccer League. I’m sad to leave the United States, my home, but I’m ready for a change. And I want you all to know that although I’ll play my best for my new team, my heart will always be here.” He said a few words in Italian for his Italian fans and then began to answer questions.
Sandra reached for Brody’s hand. “Oh Brody,” she said, placing her head on his shoulder, “why did you let him go?”
He cleared his throat, not aware that there were tears in his eyes. “Maybe I…” He faltered. “Maybe it was the real thing but I was afraid he’d break my heart. I don’t know. I was a fool.”
“And now you have a chance to…”
“I can’t. I can’t just walk up to him and…”
“I told you, I’ll tell you if he’s carrying the torch.”
“The torch…” He laughed. “Right.”
It took forever to get close enough to Vic to say anything. At the end, they waited patiently, Brody at his shoulder, as Vic spoke to some sportscaster.
When Vic turned around, they came face-to-face, and Vic’s eyes widened. He looked a little stunned and for a moment, he didn’t speak.
Sandra nudged Brody. “Hey,” he said. “How are you?”
“F-fine, you?” Vic asked, his gaze never leaving his.
“Great. I heard you were … actually, your coach invited me.”
Vic didn’t reply. He just stood there.
“Well,” Brody said, “good luck. I—”
Someone grabbed Vittorio now and whirled him around. Cameras snapped again.
Sandra drew Brody away from the commotion. “Damn, Brody, that’s not a torch he’s carrying, it’s a goddamn inferno. Go and talk to him, drag him off if you have to. Don’t let him go. He wants you.”
“Sandra, are you sure?”
“I’d stake my job on it.” She met his eyes and shoved him toward the crowd. “Go and get him.”
Brody elbowed his way back into the crowd. When he reached Vic, he grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Vic turned around in his arms and they were crushed together. Brody looked down at him. “Don’t go,” he said. “I love you.”
Vittorio shook his head, indicating he couldn’t hear him. “What? What did you say?”
“I said I love you,” Brody told him, louder.
Vic pressed harder against him. “Say it again.” He blinked. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said I love—” He stopped, narrowing his eyes when he saw that Vic was laughing. “You heard me the first time, didn’t you?”
“Um, I did.” He nodded with a big smile. “I just wanted to hear it again. Say it again, baby.” He wound his arms around Brody’s neck and hugged him tighter.
Brody smiled. “I love you. Don’t leave me.” He lowered his head to Vic’s, pressing their foreheads together.
Vic buried his fingers in Brody’s hair and dragged his mouth down to his. “God damn it, took you long enough to figure it out.” He kissed him passionately as flashbulbs went off around them.
Brody was kind of dazed when Vic released him. “That’s so you don’t forget,” Vic told him, taking his hand. “Now, come on; I have a farewell party to attend in my honor.”
“Wait, you’re still going to Italy?”
“If you don’t want me to go, say so.” Vic held Brody’s gaze.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Not long. How about a vacation in Rome?”
“Or a honeymoon?” Brody raised an eyebrow.
Vic’s eyes misted over. His mouth trembled. They were both oblivious to the people around them. “Is that a proposal?”
“Could be.”
“Sex will be great when I get back to the US.”
“And when I fly out to Italy.”
“I’ve only got another year or two in me, Brody. After that, I’ve already been offered a coaching job here in the US. I’m slowing down.”
Brody hugged his shoulders. “You’ll always be my champ, babe.”
“In bed maybe,” Vic replied, chuckling.
“Now, go on,” Brody said, “your fans are waiting.”
“And you?”
“I’ll wait for where you shine the best.” He winked.
“I’ll bring the cuffs,”
Vic teased, then allowed himself to be whisked away.
“So, have I lost my date?” Sandra grabbed him suddenly.
“No. I think Vic will share. Thanks, sweetie.”
She hugged him. “So, I still have my job?”
“Oh yeah, and it looks as if you’ll be playing boss more often than you thought.”
She looked confused.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The End
Story Two
Man Closet
Chapter One
George was like a puppy at his heels, rattling off everything that had happened in the office over the last two days. Noah had been in San Francisco trying to get an interview with a high-profile city councillor who’d been hiding in the closet for years.
“George,” Noah said, turning around to look at him, “could you at least let me have my coffee first before you bombard me with a shitload of things I can’t possibly fucking remember?”
“You didn’t get the interview, did you?” George frowned.
“No, I didn’t get the interview,” he grumbled. “But I’m not through with Harry Morgenstern yet.” Noah walked into his office, ignoring his secretary’s attempt to give him a file.
George followed him. He was probably the only one who’d dare, given the vibes Noah was sending out. Noah plunked down behind his desk and took the plastic cover off his coffee. George took a seat across from him.
Noah glanced over at George Osgrove. They’d been best friends since university where they’d met when they were both enrolled in the journalism program. People used to call them Mutt and Jeff. Noah was tall, dark, and muscular with a classically handsome face. George was short and round, had bad skin, was prematurely losing his hair, and had the worst eyesight of anyone Noah knew. When one looked at George, they only noticed two things: his big round glasses and his enormous smile.
George might have looked like a frightened little nerd, but he was far from it. Noah saw more than most people did. George had balls. Just two days after they’d met in class, George walked right up to Noah in the cafeteria and said, “I want you to fuck me.”