by Nora Phoenix
“You tell me, or things will get very unpleasant for you.”
Brad took a deep breath, forced down his anger. “As unpleasant as they were for Charlie or did you have something else in mind?”
The smile on Zack’s face was scary as fuck. “I wouldn’t put my cock inside you if you paid me, you fucking man-whore. Don’t think I don’t know what you do at the club, sucking cocks left and right. You’re filthy.”
“Two minor corrections. I’m not a whore, since I don’t charge for my services. And secondly, I’m a clean cock sucker. Unlike you, Mr. Gonorrhea. Unfortunate little accident there, right?”
Zack leaned over in the car, brought his face close to Brad’s. Perfect, in full view of his dash cam. “You have no idea what I can do to you.”
“Actually, after seeing what you did to Charlie, I have a pretty good idea. You beat him up, you fucking asshole.”
Brad’s voice was calm, but he was shaking with anger.
“He’s mine, Brad, so I can do whatever the hell I want. Don’t think for a second you can keep him from me, you deviant, sick fuck.”
Fuck, he would lose it if this motherfucker kept this up. The only thing making him keep that last, thin grip on his temper was the knowledge that not only would Zack throw his ass in jail, he’d discover the dash cam and everything would be for nothing.
“On that, we disagree, asshole. He’s not yours, he never was, and he never will be. Now, are you gonna charge me with anything or can I go home?”
Zack retreated from the window. “You were doing fifty in a forty zone.”
“Bullshit, and we both know it. But what the fuck, write me a ticket. I’ll contest it in court, see how the judge feels about abuse of police power.”
“I’ll let you get off with a warning this time, but be assured, Brad, I’m watching you. You’d better tell Charlie to come back, or there will be consequences.”
Brad’s hands shook as he closed the window. He didn’t even wait for Zack to get back in his car, but took off. There will be consequences…it was like a bad movie script. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? At least he had it all on cam, so hopefully Connor would be able to do something with it. Or Miles.
He took the first street to the right, then turned left, then left again. He parked at a flower shop, wanting to make absolutely certain Zack wasn’t following him. After ten minutes, he took off again, but kept looking in his mirror until he pulled in the driveway.
Josh was in the living room, reading a book, but he was the only one there.
“Hi,” Brad said. “Where’s everyone?”
“Hey man,” Josh said. “Erm, lemme think. Connor has a job interview, Noah is at uni, Indy is shopping, and Miles and Charlie are in Miles’ room.”
Charlie and Miles were together. In Miles’ bedroom. Maybe his fears would come true sooner than later. Brad swallowed back the sudden tightness in his throat. “I’m gonna check on them,” he said.
Josh nodded and dove back into his book. Brad walked into the hallway. The bedroom was all quiet, so he opened the door softly. He found both men in bed, plus Max, who was napping on the floor. Brad kneeled next to his dog to hug him and received a couple of licks as a heartfelt greeting.
Charlie was closest to the door, sleeping on his stomach in a shirt and boxers, the sheets kicked off. He looked so young, so frail like this.
Miles stirred when Brad walked over to his side. He’d put underwear on underneath his pajamas, Brad noted, probably as a consideration to Charlie. It said a lot about the kind of man Miles was.
He sat down on the bed, put a hand on Miles’ stomach, underneath his pajama top. The man’s misty blue eyes opened immediately, dark with want, and his face tightened.
“It hurts,” were the first words out of his mouth, barely audible. “Dammit, I’m so fucking horny.”
Brad’s eyes softened. Poor guy. “Bathroom,” he simply said. “Come on.”
Miles was in pain, Brad could tell from the way he moved. He was walking with O-shaped legs, stumbling into the bathroom. Brad shut the door behind them. “What do you need?” he asked.
“God, I’m sorry. Please, Brad, I’m sorry. Didn’t wanna jack off with Charlie there. This is not…it’s bad, right now. It fucking hurts.”
Brad cupped his cheeks, forced Miles to make eye contact. “It’s okay. I’m here, tell me what you need.”
With unsteady fingers, Miles got rid of his top, then his bottoms. “Can I fuck you? I need to…” His body shivered violently.
The one advantage of this house was that there was literally lube everywhere, including in this bathroom. Brad grabbed it from the bathroom counter, squeezed some out.
Miles was standing with shaky legs, his cock purple and his eyes glazed over with need. Brad wordlessly coated the man’s cock, then turned his back toward him and started stripping.
When he reached his underwear, he hesitated. No, Miles needed him. This was not the time to be difficult. Besides, the guy was too far gone to even notice, probably. Hopefully. He took it off as nonchalantly as he could, shivering with tension. Apprehension battled with the deep contentment stemming from Miles’ need for him. He grabbed some more lube, spread it inelegantly in his own hole.
He walked toward the sink, gripped it with two hands and bent over.
“Come on, big guy, I’m ready for ya.”
Miles walked over, unsteady. “Prep,” he said. “Don’t I need to prep you?”
Brad looked over his shoulder. “I’m good. Ease in slow, okay? After that, you’re good to go.”
Shaky fingers grabbed his hips, and he opened wide. Brad’s cock was soft, as was to be expected, but a thrill of excitement ran over his spine. There was something very masculine and raw about Miles right now, and Brad craved it. Miles’ tip pushed against his outer ring, then breached it. Brad bore down, let him in. He canted his ass, pushed it back further and leaned on his arms.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” Miles stammered as he burned his way inside, filling him inch by inch until he was fully seated. “Won’t last long.”
“I know. Keep going. Fuck through it,” Brad encouraged him.
“You okay? Please, Brad, tell me you’re okay. I’m not hurting you?”
“I’m good, I swear. Let go, babe.” The word slipped out. Hopefully Miles would be too out of it to notice.
Miles groaned, pulled out and slammed back in, fucking the breath out of Brad’s lungs. “Oh, fuck,” Miles said, his voice tight. He slammed in again, made the bottles on the counter rattle. “Brad!”
Brad’s heart clenched as Miles shouted his name when he climaxed inside of him. He was damn proud that he could offer this to the man releasing inside him. He did this. This was his doing. Miles’ breaths turned to sobs as he fucked straight through his orgasm, the cum dripping down Brad’s legs. He took it, bent over even deeper as Miles unleashed on him—deep, brutal thrusts that made his teeth rattle.
The bathroom door opened, but Miles didn’t hear it, blind to his need. Brad looked under his arm. Charlie was standing in the doorway, his mouth dropping open as he watched them. Brad sent him a reassuring smile. He didn’t care if Charlie saw him, saw them. Wouldn’t be the first time his friend watched him get fucked. Charlie had watched him suck off complete strangers in the club, even witnessed him getting fucked a time or two.
Miles’ body jerked, and he deposited another load inside Brad. Good. That had to offer some relief. He should have done more this morning. Clearly, that one blow job had not been enough. The four orgasms of yesterday had been awesome, but the man still couldn’t last longer than twenty-four hours. At least this should tide him over till tomorrow, right?
He was so lost in thoughts that he didn’t notice Miles’ hand sneaking around until it was on his cock. Brad’s completely limp cock.
“Oh, no.” Miles’ words were soft, but Brad felt them in his very soul. “What have I done?”
Miles pulled out with incredible gentleness as Brad buried his h
ead in his heads on the sink, too humiliated to face him. What a pathetic excuse for a man he was, that he couldn’t even get it up when this hot, sexy man fucked him so perfectly.
“Brad…”
“Go away,” Brad said.
“I’m so sorry…”
Yeah, that’s what he needed, pity. Fuck, no. He was done with this. He’d known it wouldn’t last, that Miles would be repulsed as soon as he knew. Who the fuck wanted a limp freak like him? No one.
A trembling hand softly landed on his shoulder. He shook it off. “Get the fuck out.”
Cum was still dripping down his legs, a sorry testament to the only thing he was still good for. Without that, he’d have nothing left.
“Brad, I…”
He pushed himself up, spun around. “Get the fuck out!”
Miles looked dead pale and stricken, as if Brad had slapped him. He stumbled back, almost tripping over his own feet. Brad looked past him, where Charlie stood, eyes wide. One look at the pure shock on his best friend’s face and Brad crumpled. His legs gave out and he sagged to the floor.
“No, Brad, no. He thinks he hurt you,” Charlie said, his voice surprisingly firm. Brad looked up, as Charlie held out a hand to stop Miles from walking out. “You didn’t hurt him.”
“Look at him! He can’t even look at me…” Miles’ voice was broken, as if he’d been cut to pieces. Funny, because that’s exactly how Brad felt.
“You have to tell him, babe,” Charlie pleaded.
This was to Brad, obviously. No way in hell was he embarrassing himself even more than he already had. He dropped his head on the floor, content to pretend he was a rag.
“Stop walking away, dammit. You misunderstood. He’s not in pain, not physically anyways.”
Brad closed his eyes. It seemed he didn’t need to embarrass himself. Charlie was doing a damn fine job for him.
“I don’t understand.” Miles sounded confused. What the fuck was there to be confused about?
Wait. Why was Charlie going on about Brad not being hurt? Did Miles think he… Oh, shit. He’d interpreted Brad’s lack of arousal to pain. He thought he’d been too rough.
He opened his eyes, pushed himself into a sitting position. “You weren’t hurting me,” he said gruffly.
Miles turned around, his cock gone soft by now, slapping against his bare leg. “Then what the hell is going on?”
Brad met Charlie’s eyes, who were pleading with him to tell the truth. Oh, he might as well now. Miles was done with him anyway after this drama. He slowly rose, forced himself to uncover his groin.
“I had testicular cancer. They removed one testicle.”
Miles eyes dropped to his groin. “Yeah, so?”
Okay, not the reaction he was expecting. “I have one ball. The other one is an empty sac.”
Miles crossed his arms. “I gathered as much from your previous statement, not that I can spot the difference from here. Is that why you wouldn’t let me touch you?”
“Erm, partly. I, erm, also have been experiencing erectile issues. You know, trouble getting hard.”
“Is that caused by the cancer? Did they damage any nerves?”
“No. Everything is normal physically. They say it’s psychological.”
Miles arms uncrossed and his eyes went all soft. “You could’ve told me.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s such an easy thing to open with. Hi, I’m Brad. Oh, yeah, before I forget: I have a limp dick and only one testicle.”
“Sarcasm is kind of your defense mechanism, isn’t it? That, and being plain rude. Why the fuck would you think I’d care, other than that I’m sorry for you?”
Brad frowned. “Because it’s hella not sexy, and a big turn off.”
“Do you realize who you’re talking to? Brad, my love, I would really appreciate a turn off, if that were the case, but sadly, your one-ball-body does not turn me off in the least. Neither does your limp dick, as you called it. In fact, if you would be so kind as to lower your attention to my cock, yes, there it is, I am hard once again. If there is any reason for me to rethink our arrangement, it’s because you turn me on too much, not the opposite.”
All Brad could do was stand and look at Miles. He had to be kidding. This had to be some kind of misguided attempt to make Brad feel better, because why would anyone be turned on by him?
“You mean you’re turned on when I touch you, suck you off, or let you fuck me,” he said.
“No, idiot, I’m turned on by you. Apparently, I have a thing for prickly, rude guys who are unfailingly kind to their best friend. Plus, I love your tight body and your sharp mind. Dammit, Brad, I told you I like you. Why don’t you believe me?”
The words echoed in his head, demanding to be heard, felt. “Nobody has ever liked me,” he said slowly.
“Maybe because you never let anyone close enough?” Charlie piped up.
Brad’s eyes traveled to his friend, who stood determined behind Miles. “I let you close.”
“Yes, after much nagging from me. And you know I love you, I always have.”
“That’s different,” Brad protested. “We’re friends.”
Charlie smiled, a smile so sweet and sad at the same time it made Brad’s skin tingle. “We were never just friends. There’s always been a promise of more, but you held back.”
It wasn’t the first time Charlie had said something like this. “You’re eight years younger, sweetie, and my student,” Brad offered the excuse he always had whenever Charlie had hinted at more.
“Oh, fuck off. I haven’t been your student in a long time, and who gives a fuck about the age difference? Zack is sixteen years older than me.”
Brad took a step forward, eyes blazing. “Zack is a fucking pervert, an abuser, most likely a rapist, and a sadistic son of a bitch who should be in jail. Don’t you dare compare me to that piece of shit.”
Charlie’s eye grew wide, then moistened. Fucking hell, now Brad was making the one person cry he wanted to cherish more than anything or anyone.
“I’m sorry, babe. That was mean of me. Don’t cry. I know you love him.”
He stepped in, past Miles who watched them with kind eyes. He opened his arms and thank fuck, Charlie accepted his embrace, snuggled close. It was a little awkward with him being naked and Charlie dressed, but what the hell. It wasn’t like Charlie had never seen him naked before. He kissed his head, held him carefully so he wouldn’t hold him against his will.
“I don’t love him,” Charlie muttered against his neck.
“What was that, babe?”
“I don’t love him. I’m not sure I ever did, but if I did, I sure as hell stopped the first time he hit me.”
Brad pushed him back gently, so he could see his face. “Then why did you stay with him?”
It took a long time for Charlie to answer and when he did, his lip was quivering. “Because I was ashamed and embarrassed, and I didn’t know where to go.”
Brad frowned. “To me. You could’ve come to me.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Charlie gently shook his head. “It’s complicated,” he said.
Brad forced himself to be accepting. It’s what Blake had taught him most, that domestic abuse was incredibly complicated and that victims had conflicting feelings about their abuser. All you could do was listen, be there, and let them sort it out. “Okay, babe. If you’re ever ready to talk, I’m here. And please know that you are always welcome to stay with me, as long as you want.”
“Really?”
Charlie acted as if that was news to him. “Of course! I thought that didn’t need saying.”
“You don’t think I’d hamper your style?”
Hamper his style? What was Charlie referring to? Oh, sex? “You’re talking about sex? Like I give a shit whether you’re there or not. You just watched me get pounded by Miles, doesn’t bother me in the least.” A thought occurred. “Does it bother you? Make you uncomfortable?”
“Not wi
th Miles,” Charlie said.
That was it, then. There was no one else at the moment, since Miles kept him plenty busy. Well, provided Miles did indeed still want him. Besides, he rarely took guys home, but maybe Charlie didn’t know that. He usually kept it restricted to quick bathroom blowjobs or fucks.
“You two need to take a shower. I’ll wait.” Charlie kissed him on his lips, a soft kiss that made Brad long for more, so much more.
He watched as Charlie walked out, his head a scrambled mess of thoughts and feelings.
10
Miles didn’t know whether to kiss Brad or slap him, though he was severely tempted to go through with the first option. Maybe he could kiss some sense into him? The man was so fucking blind. How could he not see Charlie loved him? Not as in best friends love, but was completely in love with him? One look at Charlie’s face had made it crystal clear to Miles.
He’d bet good money that he knew why Charlie had stayed with Zack—or at least, why he hadn’t gone to Brad’s. Miles’ guess was that the pain of staying with a man he didn’t love was more bearable than moving in with one he thought didn’t love him back. Miles wasn’t too sure about Brad not loving Charlie back, though. The way he held him, the way he’d flinched when he’d realized he’d hurt him—those were not the actions of a man who didn’t care. Miles would bet his money on Brad loving Charlie right back. Something else was holding Brad back, other than his erectile issues, but as usual he was damn hard to read.
“Do you want to shower?” Brad asked, subdued. “Or do you need…” He gestured at Miles’ cock which was a half mast.
Miles perched his lips. “Are you offering?”
How would Brad respond? Ever since Brad had told him about his issues, Miles had wondered why he seemed happy to pleasure Miles. What did Brad get out of it? Not a boner or sexual pleasure, that much was clear.
“Sure.”
He meant it. Everything on his face, in his tone, in his body posture indicated his offer was real. What the fuck was going on with him? “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Brad, why are you doing this?”
Brad looked at him defiantly. “What the fuck do you care as long as you get off?”