Black Leather & Knuckle Tattoos

by J. M. Dabney

  “Winston, talk to me, what’s wrong?” Brent paused and shifted on the bed. “And don’t tell me there isn’t anything to talk about.”

  “There—” His denial ended by a raised eyebrow. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You’re going to have to get it off your chest, son. Worrying about shit is just going to age you quicker. I may be your boss, but we’ve been friends for years. Also, I ain’t judgmental. I did hire you as that angry young man who made stupid decisions.”

  “Yes, you did.” A heavy breath passed his lips. “This decision isn’t so much stupid as painful.” He didn’t know what to say or even how to explain—especially to Brent. How did Win tell his boss he was interested in Brent’s son?

  “Sometimes the more painful it is to decide, the more the item or person is worth. Go get us a beer, son. It looks like we both need them.”

  An odd emotion flitted through Brent’s eyes, almost like pain. He wanted to ask but thought better of it and did as Brent asked. A few beers wouldn’t hurt, and like Brent said, they probably needed them.

  The stroke of soft fingertips along his cheek gently eased him from yet another dream that left him hard. He uncomfortably shifted and forced his eyelids open to find eyes the color of a stormy sky watching him.

  “Come on, Win, wake up, you’re going to have a crick in your neck.”

  “What?” Win paused to clear his throat. “What time is it?”

  “It’s one a.m., let’s get you settled in the guest room. I’ve slept in that chair, and it isn’t the most comfortable.”

  “We thought you’d be out all night.” Win was selfishly happy it seemed Troy had struck out on the hookup he’d been sent out to find. Which meant Win was a bigger asshole than he’d previously thought. He wouldn’t be that guy—the one that said if he couldn’t have Troy then no one could. That would be downright creepy.

  “No.” The answer was short and sounded off.

  Troy was always upbeat or at least tried to appear so, yet right now the younger man seemed tense.

  “Miller hooked up with an old friend for the night, and I became a third wheel. Get up, I’m going to check on Dad, and then we can head to bed, separate beds, rooms, dammit,” Troy muttered under his breath.

  He turned his head away to hide his grin at the flustered tone. Win sometimes had a feeling that Troy had a bit of a crush on him, but again, he couldn’t let anything happen. He wasn’t good enough for the sweet man. Troy stepped away. Win pushed to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, his muscles already tensed up. The younger man adjusted Brent’s covers and tucked them in tighter.

  “Son, if you don’t stop treating me like a baby I’m going to throw a tantrum,” Brent mumbled.

  Win couldn’t help his amused snort at Brent’s statement and Troy’s loud huff.

  “You throw a tantrum, then you’re acting like a baby, and I can tuck you in.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, I know it’s terrible that your son isn’t a slut.”

  “Not disappointed, I just wanted you to have a fun night out. You worry too much.”

  “I know.” Troy sighed heavily and leaned in to kiss Brent’s cheek. “Go to sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning, old man.”

  “I’ll give you old man,” Brent grumbled.

  Win turned away to leave the two men to finish saying goodnight and headed for the stairs.

  “Win,” Troy whispering his name stopped him on the first step. “Thanks for staying with him tonight. It was nice to see some old friends.”

  “You’re welcome. He is right though, Troy, you worry too much.”

  The younger man’s downcast eyes and sadness pinching his features tempted Win to reach out. He ached to smooth the worry lines from the beautiful man’s brow. The strength of the need overwhelmed him. When did I start to need Troy? When had the attraction moved to something more than a physical want?

  “I know I do, but…” Troy paused and stepped closer. Win could feel the heat of his body. “He’s all I have. I don’t know what I’d ever do without him.”

  “Troy.” Win sighed his name and lifted his hands to rest on the slight shoulders. “He’s not going anywhere. Brent will be fine.”

  He stroked his left hand around to the back of Troy’s neck and massaged the tensed muscles. Slender hands suddenly rested on his hips, and the smaller man laid his forehead on Win’s sternum. His half-hard dick thickened and pulsed in the confines of his jeans. Win sucked in the softness of his stomach, embarrassed a bit by the quickly progressing softness.

  “Did you just suck in your stomach?”

  “No.” He lied.

  Troy shook his head without taking his forehead from Win’s chest, and when the man chuckled, a breath warmed his skin through his shirt. “You’re so vain, Win,” Troy pulled back, and Win almost stopped him. “Actually, it’s kinda sexy.”

  The younger man rubbed his hands over his stomach, and he suppressed a groan.

  “Ha, ha, ha, make fun of the middle-aged spread.” Win covered his arousal with sarcasm.

  “Wasn’t making fun, I love cuddly men. I bet the ladies love the cuddly bad-boy too.”

  Win’s heart stopped beating, and Troy stepped around him to ascend the steps. Too? Did that mean Troy—no, it was impossible.

  “G’night, Win.”

  “Yeah, you too.” He turned and followed Troy up the steps, his gaze taking in the rounded curves of the other man’s ass. Full and firm, two perfect handfuls for his big hands. Win bit back a groan and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked everywhere but at Troy until he could disappear into the guest room. Closing the door behind him, he heavily leaned on it and took a deep breath. Something had to change. Wanting Troy Canter was only going to drive him insane, and each day it was getting harder to resist.

  3

  What was he doing up, Troy asked himself as he sat on the counter and sipped his coffee. It was barely 7 a.m., and he’d only slept a few hours. He’d stared at the ceiling imagining Win in the room next to his. Thought about what it would be like to slip into the room and curl up against the big man’s side. To sleep with his head resting on Win’s chest. Troy was so pitiful. He should get it tattooed on his forehead.

  The sound of heavy work boots on the hardwood floors above dragged him from his thoughts, and minutes later, Win filled the doorway. His wavy black hair was damp from his shower, and Troy held out an oversized mug of coffee. A sexy, gravelly rumble went straight to his dick, and he shifted on the counter. Win closed the distance and stood beside him with Win’s hip pressed to Troy’s thigh.

  He tensed as Win took the mug and rested his hand on his leg dangerously close to a certain perked up part of his anatomy. The thin pajama bottoms were the only barrier between Win’s calloused hand and his thigh. “What are you doing up?”

  “I was asking myself the same thing. You want breakfast before work?” The domesticity of the scene playing out made his stomach twist.

  “It’s too much trouble, and you’re exhausted. You’ve got some pretty heavy baggage going on.”

  Troy glared at the smirk Win hid behind the mug.

  “Your charm is overwhelming.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Win squeezed his thigh then stroked it almost absentmindedly. “I’ll just grab something on the way to work.”

  The man was going to kill him. He didn’t have enough sleep for this.

  “No, I’m going to make you breakfast. Grabbing a bag of M&Ms and a Java Monster doesn’t constitute a nutritional meal.”

  “By all means, if you insist, make me breakfast.”

  Troy set his mug aside and jumped off the counter, and his legs nearly gave out when the side of Win’s hand brushed along his cock. A big hand wrapped around his bicep to steady him.

  “You okay?”

  He answered, “Yeah, just landed wrong.”

  He gave Win a reassuring smile and walked across
the kitchen to the fridge. Thankfully, he’d shopped a few days ago. Troy gathered eggs, bacon, and butter. He wasn’t as good as his dad in the kitchen, but he could pull off a decent breakfast and a killer macaroni and cheese. Straightening, he shot a glance over his shoulder to find Win staring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing, just thinking,” He replied. Win crossed his ankles and continued to watch him, something about the look made him nervous, and more than a little self-conscious.

  “About what?”

  “We’ve never spent much time together, I’ve spent more time with Miller.”

  “I’m sorry.” Troy chuckled.

  “That man is a menace.”

  Troy felt the need to defend his best friend, although Miller was a bit of a menace. “He has his moments.”

  Quickly, he had bacon sizzling, and eggs mixed ready for the pan. All the while Win sipped his coffee and watched.

  “Brent says you’re going back to school in the fall.”

  “Yes, I can’t wait. I miss the kids.”

  “Ever thought of having any of your own?”

  The question surprised him. “I thought one day it might happen, but I would kind of like a partner to share the kids with. Adoption has always been a plan of mine.”

  “No need for a few mini-you’s running around?”

  “I wouldn’t mind, but there’re children who need parents more than I need to biologically procreate. What about you?” Troy asked. He placed the bacon on a paper towel to drain, poured the oil out of the pan and started scrambling the eggs.

  “No, never really thought about kids. Wouldn’t mind I guess, but relationships are prerequisites, or at least I think so.”

  “True.” Troy ended the conversation as he finished making the meal. Win had started the talk of kids, yet it seemed to make the big man uncomfortable.

  Filling a plate, he set it on the table and walked back towards Win to take the mug. “Go sit…I’ll get you more coffee.” Before nudging Win to go sit down, he idly stroked the other man’s strong back and felt the play of muscle beneath his hand.

  “There better be enough for me.” Brent’s voice broke the moment causing Troy to jerk his hand from Win’s back.

  “More than enough. Sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee.” He smiled, watching Win and Brent take seats at the table. Troy quickly made Brent a plate and poured him a cup of coffee, topping off Win and his.

  Sitting across from Win, he resisted the urge to glance at the other man.

  “How was your night?” Brent asked, then started to eat.

  “It was fine. Caught up with some old friends and watched Miller shake his skinny ass all night.” Brent made a grumbling sound, and Troy cut a look at his dad. His smooth head bent over his plate. Troy shrugged and went back to sipping his coffee.

  “Why aren’t you eating?” Win’s question surprised him.

  “Troy never eats breakfast. Coffee keeps him going until lunchtime.”

  “I’m never hungry in the morning, don’t start, old man, eat your food.”

  The two men started talking shop while they leisurely ate breakfast and Troy let the conversation drone on around him. He was a fool, something about having Win at the table for breakfast made him feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe Dad was right, and it was time to start dating because being around Win all the time confused him more.

  From the corner of his eye, he studied the ink he’d memorized over the years. The scaly arch of a serpent’s body appeared and then disappeared under the collar of his t-shirt. Win never went shirtless, so he never knew how extensive the rest of the work on his body was. Although, the completely tattooed arms hinted at a lot more beneath his usual t-shirt and jeans and his gaze dropped to the bold, script on his knuckles. Rage and Lust, not the typical Love and Hate, emblazoned across the scarred skin.

  “They were the only emotions I ever knew,” Win whispered huskily, and Troy lifted his gaze to the other man’s.

  “And now?” Troy asked.

  “I don’t know any different. I better get going. Thanks for breakfast, Troy.”

  “You want some coffee to go?”

  “Sure.”

  The downcast blue eyes called to Troy to soothe the older man. He reached out, squeezed Win’s hand, and stroked his thumb over the Rage.

  “Give me a minute.”

  “I have to grab my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

  Troy nodded and stood to fill one of the insulated to-go coffee mugs. He met Win at the bottom of the steps, showed him to the door. “Have a good day, and I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Yeah, sure. Bye, Troy.”

  Troy took a deep breath as he closed the door behind him, he leaned back against it and groaned when he saw Brent watching him.

  “That’s how it is, huh?”

  “I don’t know—” Troy shut up at the look Brent’s sent him.

  “I don’t even think I have to call bullshit on that one. Not exactly your type, especially after those preppy shits you’ve brought home over the years.”

  “They weren’t him,” he miserably admitted. Brent grunted in answer. “What, just say it because I know you want to.”

  “Win’s a great guy. I’ve been friends with him for years, and he’s a hard worker, but that is one man who will never know how to love anyone, especially not another man. He was never taught what love was.”

  “That’s something I’m well aware of, and besides, he’s never been lonely for female companionship.”

  “Can’t you find a man like him, that isn’t him?”

  “It still wouldn’t be him. I know I’m an idiot, Dad, you don’t have to say it. There’s just something about him. Like he’s hiding a huge secret beneath the gruff, tattooed exterior. You saw—”

  He didn’t know how to explain that brief vulnerability that he’d noticed when Win caught him studying the inked letters on his knuckles.

  “I saw the two of you all cozy in the kitchen before you knew I was there. Win’s not a touchy guy, but he instantly touched you. All I’m saying is be careful with that one, Troy. My son shouldn’t be someone’s notch or curiosity.”

  “There’s nothing to be careful of. we’ll never be anything but casual acquaintances.”

  “Whatever you say, son, go to bed. You look like you haven’t slept in days. You’re going to scare off your potential boyfriend if you look that bad in the mornings.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yeah, it’s a gift. I’ll see you later, son.”

  Troy watched his dad return to the living room. Brent’s steps were slow and careful, but he could see some of his dad’s strength returning, just not quickly enough. Then his father’s words struck him like a punch to the gut, potential boyfriend, Win wasn’t a potential anything. The realization hurt, but he’d had enough years to get used to the painful truth.

  Even if in some surreal universe Win was gay, he’d never want the skinny, kindergarten teacher. Troy knew his limitations. He was cute at best, but no one would ever call him sexy. Win would want sexy, uninhibited. Troy was inhibited. He wanted a husband and maybe children if he was lucky. It may be old fashioned, but he wouldn’t compromise, his relationships were rare, maybe it was time to change that and soon.

  4

  “Mr. Sanchez.” A middle-aged woman with a severe bun and a brittle smile stared up at him, and she was trying too hard to be friendly. A woman in an ill-fitting suit and a briefcase stood behind her and off to the right. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, and it gave him a flashback to his first days in the halfway house when he was released from prison. Everything about him inspected and policed. He didn’t like it at all.

  “Mrs. Grover.” She nodded, and he stepped back to allow her into his apartment.

  “Yes, and this is Mrs. Sanders from Social Services.”

  They barely exchanged greetings, and Mrs. Sanders kept scanning what the woman could see of his apartment. He hadn’t expected
anyone other than Grover.

  He looked around. He’d quickly cleaned before they’d arrived. Win didn’t know what the hell was going on. He’d received a call before work, and Mrs. Grover wanted to arrange a meeting having to do with Kendall Banks.

  She was a one-night stand he’d had at a bike show four years ago. Two days and nights of hardcore fucking, and by silent agreement, they’d gone their separate ways. He tried to think back and he only vaguely remembered what the woman looked like. The only thing he knew for sure was she liked to fuck and often. At one point, she’d tried to invite another man into the bed that they’d met in the hotel bar. He wasn’t a sharer even if he’d momentarily entertained taking the man back to his room alone.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Win wasn’t good with pleasantries. He was more a man of action than words.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Sanchez, I think it best if we get on with business.”

  “Okay, I haven’t seen Kendall in four years.”

  “This I’m well aware of, Mr. Sanchez. My goddaughter had a penchant for associating with, well, let’s just say she wasn’t discriminating in her bed partners.”

  “Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

  “A week ago, Kendall crashed her Ducati at a high rate of speed during a race in Italy and died instantly on impact.”

  He wasn’t shocked by the news, Kendall lived dangerously and didn’t care about anyone else. It had only taken him a few hours to figure out the narcissistic woman. Their moment of brief foreplay was a race across the desert flats, and she had no care for her safety.

  “Well, as we were going through her belongings, she made a Will which I must say was rather responsible on her part.”

  The longer the conversation went, the more confused and impatient he grew. What did a weekend of sex have to do with a Will?