Life According to Liam

by V. L. Locey

  Using my left hand I continued the search while trying to shake the gummy granola bar off my right hand. It wouldn’t budge. Had they added super glue to the chocolate drizzle? How had this gummy mass of granola, honey, and chocolate chips found its way to my nightstand? It had not been there last night when I fell into bed at three in the morning. Had it? No. I would have remembered seeing something that looked like honey-soaked cat puke on my nightstand.

  I found the phone and slapped it to my ear. “Yeah.”

  “Michael, it’s Bryn.” My other eye flew open, and I flew into an upright seated position, brain still a bit sluggish. “I hope I didn’t call too early?”

  I gave my hand a shake, frowned at the bar still clinging to my palm, and gave the alarm clock across the room a peek. Oh good. Seven o’clock in the morning. I’d copped about four hours sleep, maybe less, given that I’d had to get back up at four to tend to Liam. He was not a fan of his mother working a swing shift. Nope, not at all. Liam disliked change in his routine, and Mommy not being home to read him his bedtime story was a major upheaval in his young life.

  “Nope, not at all!” I hoped I sounded bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I yawned and quickly slapped a hand over my face to catch the yawn. The sodden granola bar hit me in the kisser then slithered down over my chin to land in my lap. I scrubbed at my lips with the back of my hand.

  “Good. I was anxious to speak with you.” That was a nice thing to hear so early. I gently picked up the granola bar with two fingers and slid from my bed, phone pinned between ear and shoulder, and pattered across the room. The sticky mess hit the bottom of the small trash can with a loud thud. “Would you be available to go out tonight? There’s a chic little club I heard about, very diverse and fashionable, that we could check out. They have a small but eclectic menu, so we could eat, have a drink, listen to some music. Interested?”

  I looked at myself in the mirror over my dresser. Sweet Jesus on a unicycle, what a mess I was. Hair sticking up, bags under my eyes, my Ravens T-shirt hanging off my shoulder, and my sleep pants stained with paint that Liam had spilled all over the clean wash two weeks ago and had opted not to mention until it was dry. This was the man who Bryn Mettler wanted to take to a fashionable and diverse club?

  “I’d love to go.”

  “Excellent! I’ll call and make reservations for seven.”

  “Sounds good.” I leaned over the dresser and poked at the puffiness under my right eye. Would it look odd if I used some of Kelly’s concealer? Maybe I could go back to bed. That would help the undead pallor I was rocking.

  “Would you like me to come pick you up?” I closed my eyes and took a second to enjoy the incredibly subtle accent that flavored his speech. God the man was sexy. “Or would you rather call for an Uber, so we can have a few cocktails?”

  “Right. Drinks.” I tried to recall if my last client had paid me yet. I didn’t think he had. My brain was muzzy. I needed coffee and sleep, not necessarily in that order. “I’ll drive. Got to watch those pennies!” I joked in a passable Scrooge McDuck imitation. Bryn didn’t snicker at the joke. Maybe he didn’t spend twenty hours a day watching cartoons.

  Could be, Mike, you ass. Stop quoting animated Scottish ducks, you moron!

  “Ah yes, I understand. Why don’t you let me send a driver to pick you up? This way you can have a drink or two.”

  “Uh, a driver? Like a limo?”

  “No, nothing that grandiose, just an Uber or a cab.” Lordy and Sweet Molly, the man had just used grandiose in a sentence. I wanted to birth his children. “Why don’t I set that up as well? I’ll have a car there for you at six-thirty. Send me your address.”

  He was kind of bossy. I liked it. I zipped him my address, smiling despite how miserably tired I was. I threw the trash can a look, still stymied over how that nasty glob of granola had appeared out of nowhere. It was almost as if Liam had snuck into my room and dropped it there but that was impossible because he was still in bed, sleeping. Wasn’t he?

  Oh fuck.

  “I have to go. See you at seven.” I hung up, shoved the phone into the waistband of my lounge pants, and raced out of my room and down the hall. Liam’s bed was empty.

  “Oh, oh no, sweet gods of loving uncles, please don’t let him be in the kitchen.”

  I ran past Kelly’s door, which was closed so I knew she’d rolled in about an hour ago from a double-shift and collapsed into bed. Thundering down the stairs, I nearly ran past my nephew, sitting four inches from the TV, his face coated with something blue and his lips a bright yellow. Cake frosting from the fridge if I had to guess. He smiled up at me. The child was buck naked.

  “Liam, where are your pajamas?”

  “In the potty.” He pointed at the small bathroom off the living room. It came to me to ask why but then I shook that off and slouched my way to the bathroom, opened the door, and blinked at the toilet water soaking into the carpet. Nice.

  Good morning, Mike! Go choke on a sunbeam chipper inner voice.

  “Why did you try to flush your pajamas, Liam?”

  “They smelled like poop.”

  “Did you poop in them?” I let my tired eyes close for just a second.

  “Hulk did.”

  Okay, sure. “Hulk pooped in your pants?”

  “Yes.”

  I rubbed at my eyes violently. “Why didn’t you wake up me or Mommy?”

  He appeared at my side, his hand picking at the back of my pants like a little monkey digging for a nit.

  “I brunged you a honey bar.” He pulled my phone free and scampered off, pretending to talk to Iron Man about Hulk’s bad poop mistake in Liam’s pants.

  “Super.” Nothing like poopy pajama bottoms clogging up my downstairs powder room before sunrise. Sighing wearily, I went off to find my phone book and call the plumber. Danny. Nice guy. Came here about once every three months. Last time he had to snake a stuffed dinosaur out of the upstairs toilet. Could you keep plumbers on a retainer like you did an attorney? Might be worth looking into.

  “I make toaster pop-up treats now!”

  I heard the naked child thundering into the kitchen and set off after him. There was a blog post in here somewhere I was just too rattled to find it right now.

  “No, no, not the tweed again.”

  My sister caught me at the front door and tugged my favorite jacket off my arm.

  “Bryn likes it,” I whispered as my cab sat idling in the street. I pulled the sleeve back up over my shoulder.

  “He liked it once, not every time he sees you. You think he’ll be wearing the same thing tonight that he wore the other night?” Kelly whispered back while peeling me out of my old, trusty tweed. We were whispering because Liam had no idea I was going out with Bryn. If he did it would be a meltdown of biblical proportions. He’d want to come along to meet his idol. I’d give in because I’m a softie. We’d end up eating pizza at the place with all the animatronic animals that came to life at night and killed people. Or was that a video game? No matter, both were horror-related and not what I wanted for a second date with Bryn.

  “Fine, I get your point.” I let her slip an old black suit jacket over my arms. It was the jacket from my funeral suit, which was the only suit I owned.

  “There, that looks nice with your new jeans and that green shirt. Your eyes just pop.” She ran her palms over the sleeves, grinned up at me, handed me my fall jacket, and then shoved me out the door of my own home. “Go, have fun!”

  I felt kind of bad for lying to Liam. We always told him not to fib yet here I was fibbing my horny ass off. Guilt nibbled at me, but I still snuck off without my boy. It was too soon to throw a child at Bryn. Also, I was being a bit greedy in this I know, but I wanted two hours to be a grownup gay man with another grownup gay man who I found incredibly attractive.

  The ride to Springs was short. I thanked the driver and tried to tip him, but he informed me that the gratuity had been seen to. I walked into the club, not quite knowing what to expect but found
myself pleasantly surprised by the intimate but brightly decorated café. There were small tables sprinkled about, each with a tall candle set inside a ring of deep purple flowers. Two or three tables had same-sex couples seated at them, whispering and holding hands.

  I stood by the door, awaiting the hostess as the sign instructed me to do, when Bryn stood up at the table by a small stage and waved. He’d pulled a rust-colored sweater over a plain white shirt, popped the collar, and paired it with some black chinos. Also, he had tucked just the front of his sweater and shirt in, leaving the rest out. I thought that was odd but said nothing. Who was I to call Bryn Mettler on fashion?

  I slipped into the dining area, smiling at the woman seated on stage singing and strumming an acoustic guitar.

  “Right on time,” Bryn said, taking my hand in his then gently pulling me in for a kiss on the cheek. The man smelled like several shades of seduction. “You look very nice. Sit, please, I hope you don’t mind but I ordered us some wine and took the liberty to place our orders?”

  “No that’s fine.” I sat down facing the stage, next to Bryn instead of across from him. In the middle of the table sat a vase filled with yellow, orange, and white roses instead of the purple arrangements on the other tables. “These are pretty.”

  “They’re for you.” The woman on stage began a new song about the ebony beauty of her wife’s skin.

  My mouth fell open for a second. “Wow, for a second date?”

  “I was advised by a teammate that I should…it’s too much, isn’t it?”

  “No, no! It’s romantic as hell. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man give me flowers before.”

  “Well, then they’re fools.” Our gazes met, fire leaping to life in his eyes. He inclined his dark head and took his seat. “I have to tell you that I read your latest blog post after morning skate.” His smile was warm and infectious. “Liam certainly keeps you on your toes.”

  “And in constant need of plumbing experts.” I chuckled while he poured some dark wine into my glass. “Fortunately, I have a frequent customer punch card with Danny’s Plumbing Company, so I got a discount of ten percent and a refrigerator magnet for the call today.”

  Bryn laughed openly. My belly was suddenly quite warm. I’d blame the deliciously sweet blackberry wine, but I suspected the glow was all Bryn’s doing.

  “Someday I must meet this young man and thank him for being so precocious. If not for him and his energy, you’d not have a blog and we’d never have met.” He lifted his glass. “To Liam.”

  I tapped his glass with mine. “To Liam.”

  “Now, let’s talk of more mature things while we wait for our seafood to arrive.” He leaned to the left, his biceps brushing mine. The heat in my belly began to spread. “Tell me something personal, Michael. What kind of man turns you on?”

  That was easy. The kind of man who turned me on was sitting right beside me sipping wine while his knee settled next to mine. Saying that would be a little forward though so perhaps I should pull something less stalkerish out of my lust-soaked brain. Lord above his mouth was so kissable…

  “Drew Carey.”

  Ah nice one, Mike, you putz.

  Eight

  Bryn

  I’ve dated many men over my lifetime, some were memorable, many not. Not one made me feel the heady sensations that my date did. He was more than just attractive, he was genuine. That was a huge turn-on for me. As a professional athlete, I spend far too much time surrounded by sycophants. It was tiring and a turn-off to find out a man was dating you because of your celebrity. Michael was a fan, yes, but now that the stardust in his eyes had been cleared away, he looked at me as a man. He was honest, funny, open, and fumbling in a way that I found enchanting.

  I wanted him badly but worried that if I were direct he might bolt.

  “…the stairs with a banana in his hand.” Michael chuckled at the recollection, something to do with his nephew, who he adored. Another plus in my book as I did long for children. First, I had to have a husband to help raise them though. “Okay, I’m boring you with kid talk.”

  “No, not at all.” I popped the last breaded oyster into my mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then leaned to the side to be heard over the songstress. “To be honest, I had been tallying up your appealing features.”

  His eyes went round. “You found more than one?”

  “Yes, several, your humility needs to be added. Do you truly not know how handsome you are? Or are you being coy in the hopes that I’ll flatter you?”

  He snickered then took a sip of wine. “I prefer the term coquettish.” He batted his lashes and flipped imaginary hair over his shoulder.

  “Then we’ll go with that. Can I ask you something else?” I poured both of us more wine, which emptied our third bottle. Having a driver tonight had been a good call. It wasn’t often I could slip off the jersey and name and simply relax and enjoy myself.

  “Sure.” Michael lifted his glass to his lips. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. My cock was slowly hardening so I wiggled a bit to ensure the long tablecloth hid my erection.

  “Top or bottom?”

  His green eyes flared. I’d truly not meant to be so bold, but the man was making me hot and hard. I wanted him—badly. Michael lowered his glass, his lids now lowered, and his breath a berry-scented cloud tickling my cheek.

  “Bottom. Always and vigorously.”

  “Ah, thank the gods.” His lips were inches from mine, his hand resting on my thigh. “If I called for the check and offered to take you to my place, would you be offended?”

  “I’d be more offended if you didn’t offer to take me to your place.”

  “Check please.”

  We were on the road to my condo within minutes, exchanging burning looks and sly touches, and inside the front door before either of us were truly ready. Michael stood in front of my sofa, looking as if he’d lost his way.

  “If you’ve changed your mind…” I said to give him an out if he so wished one. I took the roses from him and placed them on the table, careful to make sure the vase sat on a magazine in case of leaks.

  “Nope, I’m just trying to remember when I bought the condom in my wallet. It might have been my sophomore year of college, so hopefully, you have some that weren’t taken to a Coldplay concert.”

  “I think I have some fresher ones.” I laughed then took him into my arms. He came willingly and fit perfectly.

  “Fresh condoms. Lovely imagery. I see them in the produce department next to the zucchini squash.” He smiled at me, and I kissed him until he was pliant and breathless in my embrace. He was a passionate kisser, filled with energy. His want evident in the way he allowed me access to his mouth. It was an instantaneous blaze that engulfed us.

  We fell into my bed, naked, the glow of the lamp beside the bed giving me a perfect view of his body. He was perfection. Lean, yes, but soft in places, his tummy in particular. I adored a bit of a belly on a man, and this one was even covered in hair. Drove me mad.

  “I know I need to go to the gym…” he panted as I licked a trail from one nipple to another then downward to his navel.

  “No, don’t do that. I love your belly.” He made a sound of disbelief until I rubbed my face over his tummy, purring like a cat, my cock so hard it ached. “And the hair. Mm, perfection.”

  “Yeah? Kelly keeps telling me to manscape.”

  “No need. You’re manly. Leave it be, all of you.” I crawled up over him, pinning his arms over his head, and capturing his mouth. His ass left the mattress, his prick bouncing over mine. “Eager, are you?”

  “Yes, it’s been…well, a long time.” His lids dropped down when I kneed his legs further apart, his lips parting as I gyrated into him, pressing the head of my cock against his hole.

  I reached to the nightstand for a condom and the lube. Michael rolled his hips wantonly, egging me on even further by sliding his foot up my chest and then over my shoulder. It took all my concentration to cover my cock and squirt lube
on his ass.

  His cheeks were rosy pink and his eyes glittering jade. With a small groan, I slid deeply into him. He dug at the covers, wadding the sheets around his hands. I moaned at the pull of his inner muscles, tugging and squeezing my cock as I thrust softly, burying myself in him.

  “Holy hell,” he moaned as I rocked into him, taking him slowly, easily, so that he’d not be too pained. “God. Oh hell…”

  “Are you enjoying it or are you in pain?” I asked then pulled out, watching my cock slide out of his ass until just the head remained.

  “It’s amazing. Oh! Take my other ankle in your hand. Yes! Shit, oh hell, bend me up like a pretzel, Bryn!”

  Hearing my name spurred me to do whatever he asked. I folded his legs into a lotus then leaned on them, thrusting as I did so. He shuddered and squealed, vocal and loud, just as I liked my bottoms. I wanted to hear my lovers shout and scream as I fucked them.

  “Hold onto your knees. Keep your legs just like this. Yes, Michael, yes. Good, good, so good.” He yelped a few times, on the deepest strokes, but never asked for me to slow down or stop. I plowed into him, balls slapping his ass, huge strokes that robbed me of my breath and wits. I came so quickly and so unexpectedly that I cried out in pleasure and surprise. Michael whimpered, his hand jerking his cock without mercy. “Come now. Now!” I snarled through gritted teeth, my fingers biting into his calves.

  “Just…oh.” He tugged hard and came, spunk dotting his chest and belly, his ass clamping down on my cock, milking more semen out of me in glorious, hot, undulating waves. My orgasm rolled on and on, his body eking as much from me as I had demanded of him. “Oh sweet…sugar drops.”

  “I…what?” I panted, not quite sure of what I’d just heard while I’d been busy removing and knotting the condom then dropping it into the trash can by the nightstand. “Did you say something about sugar drops?”