Pure Fluff: A Limited Edition Valentine's Day Bundle

by BLMorticia

  "Man, if I didn't like the city, Tig, or the opportunity, I'd go back south."

  Latte hated winter, but the chance to display more art and open a successful gallery would be easier here. So, he moved, hoping to make a living for himself and find a man. He was on track career wise, but the personal goal lagged helplessly behind.

  Until now.

  Recalling the conversation with Brendan, Latte's mouth curled into a smile.

  Too bad they couldn't get together because sparks were flying fast in the office.

  When the feeling returned to Latte's fingers, he removed his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. He pushed himself off the door and jumped up in place, hoping his joints would warm up. Despite being inside, Latte didn't want to take his coat off.

  "Jesus." He moved across the room, standing directly in front of the radiator. Though the building had been renovated, the heating system was behind the times.

  While he stood there, his cellphone rang a familiar tone.

  Tig.

  Tig wanted Latte to meet him at the club tonight for drinks, but the weather changed Latte's mind. "Hello?"

  "Hey, La La, what's up?"

  "Nothing much. Finally talked with my hottie at the building today."

  "Yeah? Question. Does he have gay brothers, cousins, steps?"

  Latte laughed. "No clue. We didn't talk much. What I do know is he has a major father issue like I did."

  "Mmhm, so you're saying he's still in the closet, huh?"

  "Yep, but I get it. I hope he's willing to come out at some point."

  "La La, you can't do that!" Tig's disgust could be heard through the phone. "You did that dating a man who isn't out already. Remember, Slade?"

  Latte rolled his eyes and walked over to his couch, plopping down on the cushions. "Yeah. I gotta give this man the chance though, Tig. He seems like a good guy."

  "Slade did too."

  "C'mon Tig. Will you stop reminding me? Slade was no good from the start. Slade was in the closet because he wanted to date women."

  "How do you know this other man doesn't?"

  Latte had to think about that. "I ... I don't know, but anyway, this is my life. I'm gonna give this man a chance."

  "Okay. When you find out if he has good looking, proud to be out relatives or friends, let me know."

  Latte shook his head and chuckled, "Will do. Hey listen, I gotta go. My hottie should be calling ..." He checked his watch. "Any minute now. I got a couple of sketches I wanna --"

  "Hey, hey, man, are you trying to get rid of me, now? Just 'cause you got a man--"

  "He isn't mine yet. Even if he was, I wouldn't throw you to the curb. I've got work to do."

  "All right, all right, but lemme tell you the latest gossip from back home."

  Latte rolled his eyes, knowing this conversation wasn't close to ending, meaning his new sketch of his prospective man would have to wait.

  "And after we left the golf course, you won't guess who we ran into."

  "And who would that be," Alexander Walsh responded to Mr. Harrisford.

  Oh brother.

  Brendan took another long sip of wine and set it down on the table. This dinner had lasted a lot longer than he wanted. Only thirty minutes before he was to call Latte and make plans for tomorrow night.

  "Ray Dorchester. You remember him, don't you honey?"

  "Yes, father, I do." Brina Harrisford sounded like Brendan felt.

  "Oh, I do as well, Dwight. He's a good man. Is he still on the PGA tour?"

  "He is, doing well for himself, too. He's due to play in the senior championship in the fall."

  Hearing talk about golf was the last draw. Brendan hated the sport with a passion.

  "Um, Mr. Harrisford, Brina, dad, I have to get going. There's some things I have to finish." Brendan finished the contents of his glass and got up.

  Alexander grabbed his arm. "Brendan, stay. I know how important work is to you, but we haven't had dessert yet."

  "That's quite alright, dad. I don't need any. It's been a lovely evening Dwight, Brina. Have a good night." Brendan jerked his arm away and dropped a one hundred dollar bill on the table. He sprinted away, not worrying about what tongue lashing he'd get from his father, only getting home in enough time to talk to Latte.

  "Sir, do you need a taxi?" The sound of the valet's voice disturbed his thoughts.

  "Yes, thank you."

  When the wind picked up, Brendan pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his neck. Since he'd rode in the car with his father, he hadn't bothered to bring his scarf with him.

  "Cold night, hmm?"

  "Yeah. It's supposed to warm up tomorrow. A balmy twenty-two degrees." The valet answered, holding out his hand to the street.

  "Whew, heat wave. Time to pull out the flip flops and shorts, hmm?" Brendan chided.

  "Yep. It's actually the wind that makes it colder."

  "True, but you also know what comes when it gets a little warmer?"

  A car pulled up in front of Brendan.

  The valet opened the door and waved him in. "Yep, I know. Don't say the 's' word, man. It's a swear word around these parts."

  Brendan sat in the cab. "Agreed. Have a good night." Brendan from his wallet, giving it to the valet. "Go get warm. It's too fucking cold out here."

  "Sure is, sir. You have a good one." The valet tipped his cap.

  After their conversation ended, the cab pulled off and ran a light.

  "Whew, yes, I appreciate you being in a hurry." Brendan laughed and rattled off his address. Since the restaurant was near the Watertower, he wasn't far.

  Brendan glanced through the windshield, wishing for the lights to change. His only thought was to get of out the taxi as quickly as possible and run for the elevator. Brendan wished he hadn't allowed is father to bully him in the first place. Dinner with the Harrisfords' was the last thing he wanted to do this evening.

  Within about fifteen minutes, the cab pulled in front of Brendan's building. He paid the driver. "Thank you. Drive safely."

  "Thanks, man. You have a good one, too. Stay warm."

  "You too." Brendan rushed inside, running at full speed.

  "Good night, Steven."

  "Yes, sir. Good night."

  Brendan hopped on the elevator and pushed ten. He blew on his hands and jogged in place, trying to get warm. Just that little time waiting for the taxi and running outside was uncomfortable. At least now he could enjoy the heat of his condo.

  And the conversation.

  Brendan lifted his cell from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

  Five minutes.

  Five minutes until it was time to call Latte.

  The elevator sounded and he walked off, glancing at the missed calls and texts.

  Brendan, that was very rude. We didn't get to set up a date for you and Brina.

  Although Harrisford is impressed with your determination to get figures done, he wondered why you couldn't take a moment to talk with him.

  What the hell is the matter with you? Don't you realize we are trying to seal the deal for his company and his daughter's bloomers?

  "What the flying fuck?"

  When he arrived at his door, he unlocked it then promptly went in.

  Feeling the warmth, Brendan shed his coat and immediately went to grab a beer from the fridge. Though it was late, Brendan needed something to relax after being on edge.

  Quickly, he twisted the cap off and tossed it into the garbage. When the beer hit his throat, he sighed, enjoying the bitter, cool liquid. To avoid the extra trip, he grabbed another and headed to his living room to make the call. He hoped Latte would still be awake as he'd promised.

  Ready to get comfortable, he placed the bottles on the side table and took a deep breath. It had been so long since he talked to someone other than the usual, 'hi, you want to fuck,' when at the clubs.

  However, this was something more.

  Something real Brendan hadn't expected to happen with him and another
man who was out. Although the possibilities excited Brendan, the knots in his stomach made him want to hurl.

  Looking at the screen, Brendan inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He went through his contacts and spotted Latte's name and number.

  "Here it goes." He tapped the entry. Two rings sounded before Latte's alto tone vibrated through his handset.

  "Hello, sexy man."

  "Hi. Sorry, I'm calling so late. Dinner ran longer than I wanted."

  "No problem. After talking with my best friend, I took a nap. That man has a hard time shutting up, but ah well. It's nice to have someone in your corner."

  "Yes, that's true. So, tell me more about you?" Brendan leaned back and loosened his tie. He kicked off his loafers and plopped his feet atop the coffee table.

  "No, you first. You told me you don't own the Walsh Building, but you run it. What exactly does Walsh do?"

  "Oh, nothing earth shattering. We're a financial advising firm, specializing in investments, retirements, et cetera. I'm the president right now and it keeps growing because my father likes to buy out smaller firms, making less competition. I love numbers and helping people invest their money. Now, your turn."

  "Not a lot to tell. Like I said, I paint, I love live music. I live my life as if it was my last. I'm kind of like Teflon. I don't let things to stick to me."

  "That sounds perfect. I wish I could say the same. For the longest time I've wanted to clear the air and come out. I'd be a lot happier if I did."

  "Yeah, but don't rush it. I'm sure having your father breathing down your neck doesn't make things any easier."

  "No. Although he's in California most of the year, anything I do in Walsh would get back to him. He knows I'm gay, but he holds the keys over my head, not to mention, the excuse of dragging down the family name." Brendan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I love being the boss, but I'd like to do it on my own terms."

  "Well, at least he knows. I suppose having lunch and quick romps in the office would be out the question, then?"

  Brendan smiled and took another long swig of his beer. Latte's offer made his cock stir in his trousers. "No. We just need to be careful. I haven't tried it before because, quite frankly, I hadn't met anyone I wanted to do that with. But now ..."

  "Now?" Latte's voice dropped an octave, laced with his thick southern accent.

  Brendan closed his eyes tight. He set the bottle on the side table and slid his necktie from his collar. Fully aroused, Brendan moistened his lips and raked his hair with his fingers. "I have every intention of pushing those limits ... with you." Brendan opened his eyes again and unbuttoned the first one on his shirt. He dragged his finger down from his throat down to the center of his chest. "We just met the other day, and I feel like-- it's so fucking embarrassing to say this, but, I feel like I met someone I can bond with. It's like someone sent you here."

  Latte chuckled low. "Maybe the love gods were tired of seeing such an attractive man being miserable. I can tell you've been suffering for a while."

  Brendan cocked an eyebrow. "Do I look tired? Down?"

  "No. I see it in your eyes. My friends say I've got a talent for reading people and, well I believe that. I don't wanna worry you, just." Latte paused and cleared his throat. "The way you looked when you and Cathy talked about your fathers was so different. It told the whole story."

  That statement shook Brendan. How could someone who didn't know him at all see through his soul? "Yeah, that's pretty much it. But I don't wanna talk about what makes me unhappy, I'd rather do the opposite."

  "Me too. What kind of things would make you happy?"

  Brendan exhaled and flicked his nipple, invoking a soft moan from his throat. The mixture of his arousal and the beer buzz gave Brendan confidence to pleasure himself. "Having a man in my corner that's willing to stick by me and love me for who I am. I'd never thought about someone being my man but, I'd like to try that now."

  "I've thought about it ever since I left North Carolina. I'd love to try making you happy."

  Brendan bit his bottom lip to wake up from his revelry. Too bad it was too late to invite Latte over. "I know you'll do more than try. Let's start tomorrow night around eight-ish?"

  "Yes. Dinner, then afterwards a couple of drinks at Eclectic?"

  "Yes. I'll be looking forward to it." Brendan finished one bottle and opened the other. "So, which name would you prefer I call you? Latte or Davori?"

  "Whatever makes you more comfortable, baby. I'm good with either one."

  "Good. So, tell me more about yourself. I'm interested in knowing everything about you."

  Latte's low chuckle came through the phone. "I'm not all that interesting."

  Brendan smiled and leaned back against the cushions. Latte could've recited the weather and he'd enjoy it. Latte's deep voice with the touch of Southern gentleman mixed in sent chills down his spine. He could talk with him all night and not care about losing sleep. "I'm sure you are. Young man with big goals, dreams. Let me hear about those."

  "Well, I want to open my own gallery. Maybe do art classes for inner city kids. I love drawing, sketching, and ... oh Brendan I'm pretty sure if I talk more about this, I'll bore you to death."

  Brendan plopped both feet on the table in front of him. There was a lot of work to do, but he couldn't care less. He smiled. "You won't, Latte, believe me, everything you say will be more exciting than anything I'd heard in years."

  Chapter Six

  Latte sang to himself while he patted the sandwich with a spatula. "I got a thing for you." Latte hummed and grabbed some Saran wrap from the cabinet overhead.

  "Latte? I suppose since it's a--um, what are you doing?"

  Cathy's voice sounded over the speaker. He turned the radio down. "Making lunch for Brendan."

  "Oh really? And you couldn't just grab one of our brown bag specials and give it to him? Looks like you made this one with a Latte touch." She chuckled.

  Latte grabbed a plastic bag. "I did. No disrespect to Jerry's famous subs, but Brendan deserves better. He's been settling for the same crap too long. He needs someone to show him some love, you know?"

  "Oh. And you're trying to do that." Cathy winked.

  "Sure am, Miss Cathy. He didn't come down for latte macchiato either, so that says he's really busy with work, or might be hearing it from his dad. Some of the things that man says and does... I swear, Mr. Walsh is something else."

  "Yeah, he is that. Grumpy old man. My dad used to call him that. By the way, if grumps is there, what makes you think it's a good idea to show up in Brendan's office with lunch?"

  Latte packed the bag and grabbed a cup. "I'm going to say he ordered it. I thought about calling him ahead of time, but that would ruin the surprise. I really wanted to bring him flowers too, but if I run into Mr. Walsh, I won't be able to explain those. So, I'll save em for tonight."

  "Oh, tonight?"

  "Yeah, we're going out for dinner then to Eclectic for drinks."

  "Geez, you two are moving fast. Why hasn't my knight in shining armor come into Cathy's yet?"

  "I dunno. He's out there somewhere, though. You're a fabulous young woman so, it won't be long."

  "You're sweet. I been telling myself for years he'll stop by and want a chai or caramel latte with extra whipped cream, but it hasn't happened."

  Latte patted her shoulder. "Sweetheart. Just because he hasn't come in yet, doesn't mean he won't. Keep the faith." He grabbed the bag and walked out.

  "Thanks. Tell Brendan I said hello."

  "I definitely will."

  After Latte finished preparing the macchiato, he got on the elevator. He hoped like hell Alexander Walsh might've took the day off, but the way Brendan talked, that was nearly impossible.

  Within a minute, the bell sounded. Latte stepped off and made his way around the corner to the office. When he arrived, he waited for the secretary to acknowledge him.

  "Good afternoon, ma'am. I've got Mr. Brendan Walsh's lunch."

&nbs
p; The lady appeared confused. "I don't recall him saying--"

  "Oh, he did. Maybe he forgot to tell you. Can you ring his office and let him know?"

  "Sure. Give me a moment to call Suzette." She picked up the phone.

  Latte shook his head. "Excuse me, ma'am. Is it possible for you to call him directly? Just saying, he might not have told Suzette either."

  She stared blankly at Latte and shrugged. "Um, okay. Let's see if he's busy."

  "Thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Latte figured to be more polite so she wouldn't be suspicious.

  She lifted the phone and smiled. "Delia. And you are?"

  "Latte. Nice to meet you. And thanks for doing this."

  She batted her eyes and picked up her handset. "You're very welcome."

  Latte returned the grin and turned away.

  Hopefully, Brendan wouldn't be bogged down with work to miss lunch and a little conversation.

  Since the shop was slow, he wanted to take full advantage of the extra time rarely given to him.

  Brendan cleared papers off his desk and threw them in his drawer. After his father reamed him for leaving early, he had no desire to work on anything. Perhaps he should've went with his first mind and called in sick. Then his father would've accused him of missing work just to avoid him.

  I hope he goes back to California soon.

  Interrupting his thoughts, his desk phone rang. He eyed the screen, noticing Delia's name. "Hi Delia. Something wrong?"

  "No, Mr. Walsh. Did you order lunch?"

  "Um ..." Brendan hardly ever ordered any lunch from anywhere. Usually an afternoon meal consisted of coffee or a shake.

  "Did it slip your mind? A Mr. Latte is here--"

  Brendan grinned. "Oh, I forgot. Send him in." He tapped the phone and got up from his desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He quickly walked over to the door.

  "Hello, Mr. Walsh. I brought your lunch as Cathy asked."

  "Yes, yes, of course, please come in and thanks." Brendan waved Latte inside and leaned against the door to close it. Latte was looking especially good today in his tight fitting jeans and black collared shirt. He wore them like second skin. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise."