The Brotherhood 7 Single White Fang

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The Brotherhood 7 Single White Fang Page 8

by Willa Okati


  All the same, he hadn’t given David any other numbers.

  David frowned thoughtfully for another moment, then got up and headed back into his kitchen. He could at least have the sauce started when Jory got there. If they got ... distracted ... it could simmer for a while. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking about the ways they could possibly lose track of time.

  Had he ever been this happy? Not that he could remember. Jory made his life complete. And if things weren’t perfect all the time -- if Jory had problems with daytime visits and if they couldn’t always come together on the spur of the moment like they’d done one hundred percent that first night at the Fest -- well, he could cope. Relationships took time to work out all the kinks. Jory didn’t seem like he planned on going anywhere.

  Good, neither did David. They could figure each other out in time. All that mattered for the moment was learning what made each other tick. Like an old watch with dozens of springs and levers and gears. Learn how it worked, and you had something reliable. Or so he’d learned from watching daytime TV. In real life, who knew? It wasn’t like he had much experience to draw from. Made sense, though.

  David nodded decisively as he picked up the pasta recipe. Did he have all the ingredients? He thought so. Tomatoes, red wine, garlic ... He might not have the garlic.

  Diving into his refrigerator, he was rewarded by finding a small plastic bag with four full cloves in it. “Gotcha,” he exclaimed softly. He spun the bag open, humming to himself. “This is going to be a night to remember.”

  The phone rang again. “Don’t you want somebody to love,” David sang to himself, walking over to grab it. “Don’t you need somebody to love?” He picked it up with a grin. “Hey, hon. Did you forget something?”

  “Since when am I your honey?” a familiar voice, cheeky as a chipmunk, asked.

  David felt himself going bright red. “Christian. Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I was --”

  “Expecting someone else? David, you’re probably the color of a stop light right now. Cut it out. Look, I wondered if you could work a favor for me.”

  “If it’s something I can do, sure.” David tucked the phone under his ear and headed back to his kitchen. “What’s up?”

  “I need you to go to Micah’s with me.”

  David almost dropped the phone. “You need me to what with who?”

  “Micah.” Christian sounded desperately unhappy. “It’s more along the line of a royal summons. He wants to teach us how to dress and to help him pick out what to wear tonight.”

  David frowned. “Us? The ones he calls fashion-challenged every single chance he gets?”

  “Yep, that’d be our Micah and, no, I don’t know why. But, man, you’ve got to help me out. I can’t face him all by myself. Please, David. Do a guy a favor.”

  David made a face. He didn’t like Micah one bit. There was some good deep down in everyone -- he believed that pretty firmly -- but with Micah it would take a lot of digging. Still, Christian was his pal, and he couldn’t let him down. “Okay, but give me a couple hours, will you? I’ve got someone coming over.”

  Christian’s laughter rippled like water. The kid really did have a great voice. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this secret, man. You’ve got a hush-hush squeeze on the side. Liam would shit himself if he knew you didn’t need this whole trip to Amour Magique.”

  “I don’t think Liam would put it that way, but maybe.” David checked the clock. He winced, wishing Micah had chosen some other sitting duck to shoot at. “Seven o’clock?” That’d give him wiggle room in case he and Jory got really busy.

  As it was, he’d have to hurry. But he couldn’t let Christian down. The kid needed someone to help him out, not just with this, but with life in general. He seemed so lost, as if he was searching for something he hadn’t found yet and was losing hope that he ever would. David pretty much understood that state of mind. After all, hadn’t he been in the same boat before he found Jory?

  Speaking of which ... he heard a car pull up outside. David hurried to his window and looked down at the covered carport, but the blue vehicle peeking out wasn’t Jory’s little red Beetle. Its windows were almost completely blacked out. David whistled. He hadn’t realized it was legal to get them that dark.

  Shame it wasn’t Jory already. Well, as far as David knew, Jory didn’t live that close anyway. He hadn’t been over to his lover’s place yet. He’d asked if they could go there once, but Jory had demurred, calling his place a bachelor’s mess. David had teased him about the romance of cluttered trailers as opposed to a basement studio, but Jory had just gone for the gold and kissed him quiet.

  He’d sort of forgotten the question after that.

  Still, as he took plump red tomatoes out of the crisper, David frowned again. Why didn’t Jory want him at his home? Surely he wasn’t hiding anything? Jory couldn’t keep a secret to save his life -- David felt pretty sure about that. His face betrayed everything he was thinking. Like ... love.

  David put the tomatoes down on his chopping block, his mind a thousand miles away. Or, actually, a few dozen, just outside of town, in a trailer. Had it been love right from the start? He kind of thought so. He and Jory had been made to be together.

  You thought that about Tommy, too, Simon’s lawyer-voice warned him. Be careful, David.

  He considered the thought for a second, then mentally ordered his guardian angel to take a long jump off a short pier. Maybe this was insanity, but if it was, he liked being crazy. Singing to himself again, he flicked on the radio and was absurdly pleased when the song matched up.

  A knock sounded at the door. Jory already? Frowning, David brushed his hands off on his jeans and went to answer it. Couldn’t be, for sure. Had to be a neighbor or someone wanting to borrow a cup of sugar -- did people still do that? Lost in his thoughts, he swung the door open --

  -- and there was Jory, looking disheveled, as if he’d been running. His face was lit up with a huge grin, though, as he reached for David and swung him into a kiss. David melted right away, just like chocolate on a sunny day. Dragging Jory in with him, he shut the apartment door.

  “Can I come in?” Jory asked when he backed off. “I know, I know, I don’t have to ask.”

  “You? You can always come in.” David gave him another kiss, soft and lingering. “How’d you get here so fast?”

  “I flew,” Jory joked, shrugging off his light jacket. The clothes he wore underneath were rumpled, as if he’d forgotten to fold his laundry and just tossed them all into a pile when they came out of the dryer. David knew the look well.

  Not that he minded, of course. It was all gift wrapping as far as he was concerned. What was underneath mattered more. Speaking of which ... “You’re pink,” he said, puzzled. “Did you get sunburned?”

  Jory shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t used to the sun,” he muttered. “I got a little toasty, yeah.”

  David flicked a glance out the door to the covered carport. No sign of the Beetle. “Did you drive a blue sedan?”

  “Yeah. Borrowed it off a friend. The Bug has a bug, I think.” Jory rubbed the back of his neck. “Kind of hard to drive with all that stuff on the windows but, hey, it was better than nothing, and it got me here, didn’t it?”

  And that was what was important. David took Jory’s hand and squeezed it. “Are you too tender for touching?” he asked. “I could get some aloe vera.”

  “Don’t need anything but you.” Jory reached for David, the gesture easy and comfortable. He’d had practice, after all.

  David backed away. “This isn’t a booty call,” he said, fumbling slightly over the words. “I mean -- it’s not all about sex, Jory. I just wanted your company.”

  Jory shrugged. “You can have my company,” he said, closing the distance between them again. “I’d like it if we shared the space in bed, though.”

  “Horndog,” David accused, but with a smile. “Seriously, Jory.”

  “I know.” Jory cupped David’s cheek with one ha
nd. “You wanted to cook? Let’s get with it.” He turned toward the kitchen, then stopped as if a huge hand had slapped him back. “Whoa. Talk about garlic.”

  “Yeah. I was about to put some in the press for a spaghetti dinner.” David froze. “Shit. You’re allergic, aren’t you?”

  Jory was backing away, his pink face going an unhealthy shade of crimson. “Really very,” he said, voice thick and choked. “Could you -- please -- toss that out the window? Maybe now?”

  David didn’t hesitate. Opening his kitchen shutters, he tossed out the bulbs, then washed his hands in the sink. “Jory, you should have said.”

  “No. David, don’t. I’ll be fine.” Jory tugged at the neck of his T-shirt. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

  “You’re sure?” David reached for him. Jory skipped out of reach. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just give it a few minutes.” Jory summoned up an attempt at a grin, but gave in to the rueful expression breaking through. “You know, maybe it was a bad idea for me to come.”

  David felt his heart begin to break. He kept his face still. “Yeah. Maybe it was.”

  “No! God, no. Not that kind of mistake.” Jory moved back to David, although he was swallowing quickly. He reached up to run a hand through David’s hair. “Look, you. When are you going to learn that I’m not going anywhere?”

  David relented. “Even to Amour Magique with me?” he said, carefully taking Jory into his arms. “Pretty please?”

  “Not that again.” Jory shook his head. “Davy, I can’t afford the entrance price.”

  “What if I --”

  “Uh-uh. We’re not going over this again.”

  “Okay,” David said quietly. “It would just mean a lot. If I could show you off to my friends. None of them have someone so --” He broke off. Paused. Then, “Special. I want them to see us together. That we don’t need anyone else. So, please?”

  Jory sighed. “It really means that much to you? So much you’d torture me by making me go to a gay club full of muscle boys and pretty Nellies?”

  “It’s not like I want to go myself.”

  “Yet you force us both into it.”

  David perked up. “Did you say both? As in, the two of us?”

  Jory rolled his eyes, then grinned. “Yes, you and I, and Amour Magique makes three. But we leave early. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Excited as a young boy, David picked Jory up and swung him around in a half-circle. When he stopped, both were laughing.

  “You can’t just do that,” Jory protested, although he didn’t seem in a hurry to let David go. “I’m as tall as you are. And I am so not the girl in this relationship.” He tilted his head to a side. “What? I said something, didn’t I?”

  David turned his head to kiss Jory’s arm. “Relationship,” he said softly. He rolled the word around on his tongue and, to his surprise, decided he liked the way it tasted. He hadn’t thought after Tommy that he’d ever want this kind of entanglement again. But with Jory ... anything was possible. He just felt it, deep down in his gut.

  “Yeah.” Jory caressed David’s face. “Meant it, too.”

  David’s heart swelled. God. Could he ask for anything more? He didn’t think so. “Dance with me?” he asked, wrapping his arms tightly around Jory. “Right here, in the kitchen. Then the bedroom.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Jory did a little shimmy against David. “What do you have in mind?”

  Kissing him, David reached out blindly to the counter. He broke off the kiss to triumphantly hold up a key. “We’re opening the trunk. I finally got all that rust off, and I found one that should work. There’s no way I was going to open the trunk without you here with me.”

  Jory looked surprised. His mouth opened and closed a few times. After a moment, he spoke, but all he said was, “Oh, shit.”

  Chapter Eight

  David stared at Jory. “What’s wrong?” He knew he sounded like a little kid, and he could have kicked himself for it, but ... he’d thought Jory would be as happy as he had been at finding a key that fit the trunk. Jory always ran his hands over the old thing when they went into David’s bedroom. Rubbed it like a lucky charm or something he’d invested a lot of emotion in.

  Getting this kind of reaction was more than a surprise.

  David could tell Jory was thinking at ninety miles an hour.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, his grin definitely half-hearted. “Just had someone walking over my grave, is all.”

  “Hey. No graves for you, okay?” David cradled Jory’s ass in both hands. He gave the cheeks a light squeeze. “I don’t plan on losing you to a coffin any time soon.”

  “Yeah. Me neither.” Jory brushed David’s cheek with a kiss. Then he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure you want to spend time on an old box? There are other things we could be doing.” He tucked his hand into the front of David’s jeans and gave a playful tug. “People that each of us could be doing, people who happen to be conveniently standing in the same room with the other.”

  David almost weakened. “You really don’t want to know what’s inside the trunk?”

  Jory made a face. “I don’t know. It’s kind of like a ...” He struggled for words. “A Pandora’s Box. Does that make any sense? I get the feeling that if we open it up, anything could come flying out.”

  “Worst thing I can think of is a moth or two.” David squeezed again, kneading rhythmically. Jory gave him such courage; it felt so easy to touch the man. “Come on. Do this with me, and ...” He still blushed when he said what he wanted so openly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

  That got Jory’s attention. He glanced up, hazel eyes suddenly sparkling. “Anything? You would go on top?”

  “Anything you want, you’ve got, you know that.” David pressed against Jory, chest to chest. “But yeah, I could take a turn in the driver’s seat.”

  “Won’t Sweet Rose get jealous if you’re accelerating me around?” Jory got his own handful of ass, but simply cupped David instead of pushing him a little further. “She’s one tough lady. I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  “I think she’ll be all right with the idea. Or,” David lowered his mouth to Jory’s ear, “we just won’t tell her.”

  He bit at Jory’s earlobe, loving the way his lover’s breath hitched when he sucked the soft tissue into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. “Humor me,” he coaxed. “Open the trunk, and then you get to look beneath the hood.”

  Jory laughed and shook his head. “Okay, David. You win.” He stared at David, seeming somehow wistful. “Let’s go open that trunk. And if you still feel like it afterward, we can get on with some grown-up playtime.”

  “I’m pretty sure I will.” David gave Jory a light spank before pulling them apart. He caught Jory’s hand in one of his, picking up the key with the other. “Let’s go see what’s there.”

  David tried to ignore Jory’s lagging behind as they made their way to his bedroom. It wasn’t a big place, but then again, his whole apartment didn’t have much in the way of square footage. The room had just enough space for a double bed, extra long, a nightstand, his closet, and the trunk.

  David had stacked his nighttime reading across the old wood and metal -- antique books that were too worn to be worth anything at the Antique Barn, but that he found fascinating for all that. Seventeenth-century zoology texts were his latest kick. He loved the whole, “Here There Be Dragons” feel of the manuscripts. It’d been medical journals the previous month. Who knew what would come next? Maybe history.

  Maybe whatever lay in the trunk.

  David pulled them to a halt at the foot of his bed and knelt in front of the piece. Carefully, he lifted off the old books and put them on top of his comforter.

  “Mmm,” Jory said behind him, surrounding him with cool arms. “A man on his knees. I just might enjoy myself.”

  “Insatiable,” David shot back, although he didn’t push Jory away. He smoothed his hands over the top of the trunk
. “I can refinish this, you know. Make the wood gleam again and get the brass all shiny. It could look as nice as it did before, almost brand new.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something.” Jory had moved on to nuzzling David’s neck. He nibbled the sensitive skin where his neck joined his shoulder. David gave a heavy sigh and leaned back, raising his hand to tangle all five fingers through Jory’s curls.

  “Keep on doing that, and I’ll forget what I’m working on here.” David thought uncomfortably that that might be exactly what Jory had in mind. “Come on, quit it.”

  And who ever thought I’d be saying that to a sexy man in my own bedroom? He brandished the key. “It’s just like Christmas,” he said. “Let’s see what’s under the tree.”

  Jory exhaled heavily. “Fine, David.” He sat down cross-legged, but for all his curt words, gave David a light scratch on the back.

  “Ohh, do that again.” David almost forgot the key in his hand. He arched back. “Harder, and to the left.” When Jory’s nimble fingers obliged, he almost began purring. “That. In my opinion, that is one of the best parts of being in a relationship.”

  “What’s that they say?” Jory murmured, sounding amused. He didn’t stop moving his hand, although he was drifting downwards. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine?”

  “Keep on doing that, and I’ll do anything you want.”

  “Including keeping that trunk closed?”

  David stiffened.

  Jory stopped plying his short fingernails. “God, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything, okay?”

  “No.” David shook his head. Anything was possible, but not if Jory kept throwing up roadblocks. It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t been interested in the trunk, but this almost felt like he was keeping a secret. “What’s in there that you don’t want me to see?”

  Jory went deadly still. Even his breathing stopped for a few seconds. Then, with a deep inhale, he shook his head. “I have a bad feeling, that’s all. Whatever’s in that trunk hasn’t seen the light of day in a hun-- probably a hundred years. What if there’s bad luck inside?”

 

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