by J. M. Dabney
“That’s an understatement.”
“Good.”
“Oh look, here he comes, I can introduce you two properly.”
Brent growled, and Miller laughed.
“Easy there, big man.”
The weight of Miller’s body disappeared, and the depth of the loss stunned him. He wanted to tug the slender frame back to his taller one. Purely selfish, he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.
“Miller.” Porter’s voice dripped with disdain.
Brent straightened and squared his shoulders. He stood a few inches taller than the other man and had at least a good forty pounds on him, maybe more. Porter was tall and leanly muscled, someone who ran or swam every day. He didn’t possess Brent’s bulk.
“Porter, may I introduce you to Brent Canter, Brent, this is Porter Dorsey.”
“Oh, is this the Daddy?” Miller flinched and turned pale.
“Dorsey.” He kept his tone polite and curled his arm protectively around Miller.
“Seems a lot changes in a year, I heard your name screamed more than mine.”
Brent kept the confusion to himself, but the way Miller tucked himself deeper into Brent’s side told him something was wrong. Dorsey was hitting below the belt and making shit up to hurt Miller. Not giving into bullies was the best way to deal with them.
“We were actually getting ready to go home. I don’t share well, and he’s been away from my side long enough for the night.” He ignored Dorsey and looked down, lifting his hand he cupped the softness of Miller’s cheek. Brent dropped his gaze to the full curves of Miller’s lips.
Just one quick kiss to put the asshole in his place, just one. He tipped Miller’s head back with his thumb under the point of his chin. As Brent lowered his head, his breath fanned Miller’s mouth for a few seconds before he pressed his lips gently to the younger man’s. The heat was instant. Slender arms twined around his neck and like some romantic cliché everything else faded. Miller’s body arched into his as Brent’s tongue teased along the relaxed seam of Miller’s lips, and with a shuddered sigh, the gorgeous man let him inside.
He hadn’t kissed anyone besides Miller in so long, but this wasn’t those quick brushes. No, this was hotter—an unspoken promise. This was what he assumed kissing a lover before going home to their bed was like. His cock thickened, hardening painfully and he savored the bliss. This wasn’t some fantasy which played out in his mind when he laid in his lonely bed. How many times had he imagined holding his man, kissing him while he was balls deep? How many times had he thought about the heat and tightness of Miller's ass clenching down on his cock? Hearing his beautiful boy scream as he fucked him hard and brutal.
The kiss could’ve last seconds or minutes, the tip of his tongue teased Miller’s before he retreated and tenderly nipped the swollen curves. “Miller,” Brent whispered. He didn’t care if they had an audience or if Porter glared at them, his only focal point was the small man in his arms.
“Yeah?”
The kiss had been an asshole alpha male move and in some ways a bit juvenile, yet he couldn’t deny he’d thought about turning their flirting into something else. He loved and savored the breathlessness of that single syllable. He wanted to hear that tone in a more intimate setting. Preferable while cradled between Miller's thighs as they gripped his hips or sides.
“Let’s go home.”
“Okay.”
He plastered a smile on his face and turned to glare at Porter. “Wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Porter, but I’m not a polite man.”
Porter seemed ready to say something yet smartened up when Brent glowered at him. Miller whispered a quick goodbye.
He took Miller’s hand, laced their fingers and led him toward the front door. The strained silence between them was lengthening. Brent opened Miller’s door, settled him in the passenger seat. Forcing himself to not jog to the driver’s side, he pulled the handle and opened the door. He wasn’t looking forward to the talk. He felt like an ass for taking advantage.
The thirty-minute ride felt like purgatory.
Brent was in shock. The kiss was all part of the act, the role he’d been asked to play, yet for him, the kiss was real. Arousal burned through him, settling in his balls and his hard cock rested heavy along his thigh. He wanted more, not the show. It wouldn’t happen.
Inside his house, they continued their silence. Brent searched for something to say, and the only thing he could think of was, “I’m sorry, Miller.”
“For what?”
He was surprised by the casual tone. Brent had thought there would be more.
“The kiss, it was out of line, but Dorsey was being an ass and talking shit. I just wanted to shut him up. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Brent loosened his tie to ease the choking feeling. “I do, it was inappropriate on my part.”
“We’ve known each other a long time, we’re friends, or I thought we were.”
Brent growled.
“I don’t think I’ll be seeing Dorsey any time soon.”
He didn’t believe the smile curving Miller’s lips yet didn’t know how to call him on it or even if he wanted to call more attention to the kiss. He’d loved the way Miller’s soft lips gave under his, more than that, he wanted to repeat it.
“We should hope not, you staying tonight?”
“Thought I’d crash in my room like old times,” Miller answered.
“You’re more than welcome. It’s still early, want to curl up for a movie and popcorn with tons of hot sauce?”
Miller’s face lit up with joy, and he bounced on his toes.
“I’m going to go swipe something of yours to sleep in, and I’ll be back here in five. I want gory, lots of blood and body parts.”
“Whatever you want, baby,” he spoke to Miller’s retreating form. At least he didn’t fuck up a friendship he’d come to cherish, that would’ve killed him.
5
His chin rested in his palm and his soft fingertips tapped out an agitated rhythm on his lips. Miller couldn’t focus on work. Luckily, Gertrude was out of town visiting friends, and he could work from home. The kiss from Saturday night repeatedly played in his head. The tender passion in it felt so real–the way Brent’s tongue nudged and stroked along his. He ached remembering it, and he wanted another kiss and more.
He’d felt embarrassed and uneasy wondering if Brent had noticed the way his body had reacted. The way he’d followed the older man’s mouth as he’d retreated. He’d wanted to whisper Brent’s name and have those firm lips on his again. His brain had short-circuited the second that Brent had pulled him close and had leaned down—it was everything he’d dreamed of since he realized he’d fallen in love.
Their impromptu movie night after the party had bordered on torture, sitting beside Brent and Miller watched the older man more than the movie he’d chosen. Normally he’d talk to Troy about what was going on in his head, but he couldn’t call and say, oh, yeah, Brent kissed me and I wanted to get naked and sweaty. It wasn’t just the sex though, although he wanted that a lot, it was just being with Brent.
He could talk to the older man without judgment. No matter the mistakes he’d made, Brent never condemned his actions. His phone beeped pulling him from his thoughts. Miller checked the display.
Troy: Call me 911!
His heart seized up because the last text containing those words was when Brent had received the diagnosis. He'd been on vacation and caught the next flight home. For hours he’d agonized, felt he wouldn’t get home in time, and Brent would already be gone. He pushed those thoughts away and called Troy.
“Miller, is Dad with you?”
“No, why would he be with me?”
“Did you have a date tonight?”
What the fuck did him having a date have to do with a 911 text? He bit back his irritation.
“Yeah, I canceled though. We went out a few weeks ago, and the attr
action just wasn’t there.” He’d actually done it because, after the kiss with Brent, he didn’t want another man’s lips on his. He was so pathetic.
“Well, Win, Dad and I were at Flannigan’s having some beers while watching the game. Some guy was talking shit about some hot date he had, and he was being crude.”
Flannigan’s was the only openly gay-friendly sports bar in Clifton, North Carolina. They even had a rainbow sticker next to the door. Clifton was a small city, but that didn't mean it wasn't overrun with an asshole or two.
“Dad heard your name…there were some words exchanged and the guy threw a punch.”
“What?” he yelled.
“I’ve never seen Dad so pissed off before. He’s not at home or the office. I thought he’d come talk to you.”
“I’ll take care of it and call you later.”
He was positive he knew where Brent was. It was the first place Brent would go to let off steam. He hung up promising to call and grabbed his keys. The local college opened their batting cages to the public when a practice wasn’t going on. Brent played baseball in college and still took part in city leagues. The guys had loudly complained when Brent had set up a Center Handyman team.
He locked the door behind him and jogged to his car. The trip didn’t take long, and he hopped out of the car before heading for the cages. He walked down the row until he spotted Brent. His focus was solely on each ball coming at him at high speed. The clang of the aluminum bat connecting with the ball was a steady rhythm. Brent’s body moved gracefully as he swung and he couldn’t ignore that Brent was in better shape than most men half his age. Brent wasn’t obsessive about his health, but he’d noticed Brent had started working out more and taking better care of himself after that first all-clear exam.
“You know you’re embarrassing these pretty, All-American boys.”
“How’d you find me?” Brent asked harshly.
Miller flinched, and his fingers tightened through the chain link fence. Brent had never used that tone with him. The anger radiated off Brent in oppressive waves. “You always come here when you’re upset.”
“How?” Brent asked harshly.
The anger in that tone made him feel as if Brent had just slapped him. The Brent he knew never treated anyone like that, especially him, and he realized why Troy had been so upset.
“Because I know that like I know you were pre-med before Troy came along. I know you almost killed yourself working full-time while going to school and raising him.” He moved towards the door of the cage. “You prefer to go barefoot around the house and outside. You hate sweets, but your coffee can rot your teeth with the sugar in it.” He chuckled then dropped his gaze to the ground. “I know that you absently trace the surgical scar when you’re thinking too much. You wanted to be a superhero when you were growing up, and you hid all the picture evidence.” The laugh he hoped for never came.
“Did you have a date tonight?” Brent abruptly asked.
Miller was taken aback by the question. “I did, but I called and canceled.”
“Troy called you.”
He didn’t see any reason to deny that. There wasn’t any other way he’d known to look for him. “Yeah, you weren’t at home or the office, so he thought you may be with me.”
“If only,” Brent whispered and Miller didn’t think he’d heard him right. “Did you sleep with him?”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the mood, yet something was definitely off about Brent.
“Cut the jokes, did you fuck him?”
Miller chewed nervously on his lower lip. “No, I didn’t.”
Brent hit a switch, and the machine shut down. Then he dropped the bat to his side and tapped his calf.
“Why does it matter if I did or not?” He didn’t know what possessed him to ask.
He stepped back when Brent exited the cage and stopped in front of him. The large man frowned down at him. Brent wasn’t a man who became angry; he was too mellow. Brent never second-guessed himself and believed mistakes were just a misstep on life’s path. He went with the flow, just like when he had to drop from pre-med to something more practical for a single father. He knew a part of Brent mourned his dream, but his son was more important.
“It matters and it shouldn’t,” Brent angrily hissed.
Not one time had he ever been frightened of Brent, and he wouldn’t start. His fury was new and just an addition to Brent’s personality. Miller lifted his hands to rest on Brent’s sides, and a warm, calloused palm stroked across his cheek until strong fingers twisted in his hair. The slight pain caused his body to tighten and ache, god, how he wanted those hands everywhere. Brent breathed heavily, and his eyes closed hiding from Miller, he couldn’t allow that.
“Brent,” he called the man’s name and lifted onto his toes. He reached the man’s mouth, and their lips barely touched. “Why does it matter?”
“Go home, Miller, I don’t want you here,” Brent growled and jerked away. Miller staggered at the man’s abrupt retreat. He stood there listening to the fading sound of Brent's steps, so focused on them that the sounds of bats connecting with balls disappeared.
Tears burned his eyes and a sob caught in his throat. He brought his hand to his mouth and covered the miserable sound of his whimper. With no other choice, he ran.
“Miller, answer the damn door, don’t make me have Win knock it the fuck down.”
Three days later, he ignored Troy’s voice just as he’d done the texts and calls before. He was an idiot. Going after Brent had been a mistake and almost kissing him was worse. What did he think was going to happen? Brent would confess his love, and they’d live happily ever after.
“I know you’re home, dammit, Miller, talk to me. Please.” The plea was followed by heavy knocks, ones that couldn’t be Troy.
“Daddy, you said a bad word.” Bella’s voice made him smile, but it was short-lived.
“I’m sorry, honey.” The apology didn’t sound sincere. “I warned you, Win, take it down.”
“No,” Miller shouted and ran through his apartment. A new door wasn’t something he wanted to explain to his landlady. He threw it open and glared at Troy and Win but smiled at Bella.
“You’re going to explain what’s going on and you’ll do it now.”
His friend crossed his arms over his slim chest—he really didn’t pull off the intimidating look. Miller couldn’t say the same for Win though. Win was almost obsessive about his husband’s happiness, and anything that made Troy sad infuriated Win, and he didn’t make a secret of that.
“There’s nothing to say.”
Troy mouthed bullshit, and Miller snorted. His three unwanted guests, well, two, Bella could visit any time she wanted, pushed passed him. “Sure, come right on in, I have nothing better to do.”
“Cut the jokes.”
He jumped at the repeat of Brent’s words coming from his best friend, and it brought back that night.
“Win, could you give us a minute, please?”
“Sure, come on, baby girl, let’s raid Miller’s fridge.”
He turned to briefly watch the big man and tiny girl leave. He’d thought he’d know what unconditional love was until the first time he’d looked into beautiful blue eyes and a tiny voice said I love you, Papa.
“Her snacks are in the cabinet beside the fridge, and her coloring books are in the pantry,” he called out trying to stall.
“I’ll show him, Papa.”
Why Bella called him Papa he hadn’t figured out, but he didn’t mind.
“What the fuck is going on between you and Dad? He’s been a dick for days. I had to talk some of the boys out of quitting.”
“Nothing. Why would something be going on?” he asked.
He was genuinely confused. Nothing was going on between him and Brent. They had a disagreement, and since the party, things hadn't seemed the same, but it was nothing that wouldn't work itself out. Or at least he hoped it would work out.
Brent had changed over the last few years, and he wasn't surprised. When someone was faced with death at such an early age, of course it was going to make them reassess. He didn't expect Brent to stay the same, and they were just going to have to adjust to the new version of Brent.
“Well, let’s see, my dad punched the shit out of a man talking about sleeping with you, and then you go off to find him. By the way, you never called. Then Dad hasn’t left his house. Except to work the last three days. What happened, Miller?”
“You know your dad is protective of the two of us, always has been.”
He attempted to explain it away, and the frustration in Troy’s gaze easily broadcasted that he thought Miller was full of shit.
“No, this is different, Miller. It was almost like he was jealous. So, cut the shit and tell me.”
“I invited him to go to one of Gertrude’s parties with me because an ex would be there. The guy didn’t tell me he was married when we dated.” Troy rolled his eyes. “See that’s why I didn’t ask you to go, Brent doesn’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging, but you do seem to get in trouble without even trying. Continue the story.”
“I may or may not have whimpered a certain name during a personal, solo intimate moment.”
He had left from an afternoon of hanging out with Brent, and he’d gone on a date with Porter. The horror was still fresh. He’d sent Porter home because he hadn’t been in the mood for a quickie, but Porter had used his spare key to return to attempt to change his mind. As soon as Miller had laid down in bed, Brent had popped into his head. He’d stroked his cock, and he faintly remembered that he’d whined Brent’s name and then screamed Daddy as he’d reached his orgasm. Porter had yelled his name and the ridicule had begun. The end of their relationship had quickly arrived, and learning of Porter’s wife had made the break up easy.
“Oh my god, Miller, can we not talk about you fantasizing about screwing my dad while with another man.”
“I wasn’t having sex, it just happened, and I'd had a lot to drink that night. Porter just entered my bedroom at the worst time. You want the story or not?” He tore at his hair and started pacing.