by J P Sayle
Martin laid his head on the cool glass, watching it fog with his warm breath. Patterns smeared on the glass created lines. Side-tracked by them, he reminded things he didn’t want to think about, especially Brad’s scarring.
As he clutched the window sill, his pulse pounded, aggravating his headache. Taking a moment to roll his shoulders, he felt his rage stab. He just couldn’t get past the driving need to know. Faceless and nameless was not working for him. He spent half the night fuming and the other half aroused to the point of pain.
He dragged his hands through his hair. His sigh radiated unhappiness. Parking his butt, he tried to focus on work. Failing on the plane, he knew catch-up was going to be a bitch. Rolling his pen back and forth, he glanced back at the window. He wondered what Brad was doing.
The pen hit the far wall, breaking on impact. “For fuck’s sake.” The nudge in his trousers approved of his train of thought. The mess in his pants he’d cleaned up after Brad had left was hard to comprehend. A pubescent probably had more control than he’d had.
Jumping up, Martin tried to outpace the images his mind kept replaying. Swallowing, he could almost taste the salty bitterness mixed with a hint of cherry. Growling, Martin shoved his hands forcefully into his pockets, distracted once again. The problem was they weren’t the only images that had plagued him.
Witnessing Brad’s scarring properly when he lay on the chair had fury steal his breath, a red haze blinding him. Martin was just grateful for small mercies that Brad had been facing away. Their ugliness was not an issue for him. But the inflictor? Now that was a different matter altogether. That person was ugliness personified. They lived and breathed somewhere, and he wanted to beat the shit out of them.
He’d had to take a moment to choke back the words, wanting only to focus on giving Brad pleasure. Somehow he wanted to balance the scales for Brad. But now his mind wouldn’t rest. Having seen similar scarring inflicted for pleasure, he was convinced this was not the same for Brad. His fainting and panic attacks, mixed with the air of vulnerability, told its own story.
This was abuse, and it hadn’t happened recently, judging by the scarring. He’d tried to calculate how old Brad was. Young. Maybe early twenties. That had him wondering if somehow his family had been involved.
He paused mid-stride with eyes darted to the door as the knock on the door stopped his thoughts. Shouting “Come in,” he smiled as Ann tottered towards the chair.
“You ready for the next meeting? The team have just arrived, and they want to start now.” Ann tilted her head towards the open door.
Martin felt frustrated with the interruption. “Fine, just pull all the paperwork together and ensure we have a pack for each person. We don’t want them to think we aren’t ready for this.”
Ann nodded, leaving him to it.
As his right-hand woman, she had her finger on the pulse. No surprises. His messy thoughts were causing too many distractions they couldn’t afford. Shaking his arms and rolling his head like a prize fighter stepping into the ring, he tapped the file on his leg and followed. Praying it wouldn’t drag on, he had a phone call to make. His lips curved for the first time. Brad’s winking dimples teased him. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Martin felt numb. His brain was mush. His eyes had all but crossed that last hour, fucking ten o’clock stalking down the street. His back screamed with pain. He needed new office chairs. If he had had to sit in that godforsaken chair another minute listening to Mr Goss bashing his business boundaries, he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions. No, Officer, Mr Goss normally wears a chair on his head as a hat!
Exasperated, scrubbing his neck, Martin ignored the hotel concierge, stabbing at the lift button. Hesitant movement at his side had his eyes narrow sideways. The small child staring up made him grin. Green eyes, laced with laughter, smiled back. The child reminded him of Brad. Would he have looked like this cheeky imp, amusement sparkling out of a mischievous face.
Crouching, he looked around. “Where are your parents?”
A stubby finger pointed to the reception desk towards a harried-looking woman with the same eyes who was running towards them.
“Sorry, he just got away from me. You need to have eyes in the back of your head sometimes. Come on, Billy, stop bothering the nice man.”
Watching as she dragged the child away, he stepped into the lift, rubbing his tired eyes. Nice man. He wasn’t sure about that. Had he ever been that young, that carefree? His aching body begged to differ.
He went straight to the bathroom. Maybe a bath was just what the doctor ordered. Refreshed after the dip, he headed for the bed. All he needed now was a glass of wine to finish off his day.
Martin flopped on the bed. Grabbing the remote, he settled to watch the late news. Disturbed, he scratched his neck, checking it. Had he been bitten? The itch was incessant, even though his fingers felt nothing on his skin. He was getting perturbed when the itch increased.
Martin found himself glancing at the clock, trying to determine if it was too late to ring Brad. He cast his eyes towards his phone as his feet were already moving, seemingly compelled. The itch decreased with each number he dialled.
“Hello. Hello? Martin, are you there?” Brad’s uncertainty met his ears.
Martin was speechless, mouth gaping, as relief overwhelmed him as the itch disappeared at the mere sound of Brad’s voice.
“Hello, baby. Sorry, I was distracted by the news.” Rolling his eyes, he sprawled on the bed. “How are things over there on the rock today?” Not the question he wanted to ask, but the others just seemed too needy.
Brad’s melodic voice floated through the speaker, rolling over him, washing away the dregs of the day. The chatter was irrelevant. He settled as muscles unwound, and his eyes drifted closed. Brad’s agitated voice disturbed him.
“Martin, Martin, you still there?”
Heat filled Martin’s chest at Brad’s concern. “Yes, baby. I was just enjoying the sound of your voice. It’s soothing after the day I had. I have practically melted into a pile of goo.” His words sounded unconvincing, which was no surprise when he glanced down at his lap. The silence stretched. Martin felt compelled to clarify. “That was a compliment, baby.” His timbre deepened with the endearment.
“I know. No one has ever said they liked my voice before.”
Martin could hear Brad’s indrawn breath as if he’d just realised what he had said. Martin’s brows furrowed. Had no one ever complimented him before?
“I like it that you like my voice,” Brad croaked.
Martin’s eyes darkened as his lips curled in pleasure. Content, Martin spoke of his day. Brad occasionally interjected with a question. Martin’s arms grew heavy. Fingers cramped. His fatigue announced bedtime. “Baby, I have to get up in five hours, so I am going to bid you a good night.” The exaggerated huff had Martin choking back laughter. The polite tone that followed was his undoing.
“It was lovely to talk to you. Emm, maybe you would like to give me a ring tomorrow night?”
Martin covered his mouth, muffling the laughter, not wanting to spoil the moment or have Brad think he was mocking him. Warmth spread inside his chest at the request.
Martin yawned.
His delay must have given rise to doubt when Brad interjected. “That’s if you want to. I understand if you’re too busy.”
He rushed to reassure Brad. “No. I would love to chat with you tomorrow. I am not sure what time I will finish, but I will ring when I get back here, okay?” Brad’s eagerness had Martin feel like he’d won the lottery.
Ending the call, he grinned. He wanted more, so much more. Martin couldn’t resist. He texted Brad asking him if he had the FaceTime app, confident Brad would. He was pleased by the quick response. They had a FaceTime date. His face slackened as Brad accompanied him into the beckoning arms of sleep.
Disgruntled, Martin was convinced teenagers were better behaved than him, rushing to his phone every five minutes. He’d had Ann uplo
ading instructions for Brad on FaceTime when she should have been working on a contract. An all-time low.
Snarling at his phone—where was his text?—work forgotten for the umpteenth time. The day was endless, buoyed only by intermittent texts. Ann had cast several “what the fuck” looks his way, which wasn’t helping his plight. Ignoring her was impossible.
Brad overpowered everything in his universe. How did you explain that?
Ann, having worked for him several years, was too attuned to his moods. He gritted his teeth at the wide-eyed stare. He sighed. He wouldn’t escape her questions. She was like a dog with a bone. Her friendship was especially cherished after she had supported Sarah in his absence. Never more so than when his parents died. Ann attended his parents’ funeral, supporting Sarah when she needed it most.
Her work was secondary to that loyalty, but she’d excelled, so he’d promoted her, entrusting his business when the army summoned. Now she was a partner, he knew escaping her questions was nigh on impossible.
Yanking his hair, he strode to his office. His escape was paramount. He shoved papers into his briefcase as a husky voice interrupted. Martin sighed in defeat. He straightened his shoulders as he turned to face the music.
“Come on, spill. I know you. Grabbing your phone every five seconds, smiling in meetings.” Ann’s incredulous tone had him squirming. “Usually you grind your teeth and try extra hard just to be polite, especially to Mr Mitchell who can be a right prick.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose. “Now you shouldn’t talk about our customers in that way.”
Ann scoffed at his sarcastic smirk. “Stop deflecting, Martin, and spill. You know you want to.”
Did he want to talk about it? The butterflies that wouldn’t leave him alone seemed to think so as they danced in glee. Martin heard the reverence in his own hushed words, “I might have met someone that I am interested in pursuing. He lives across the cul-de-sac from me. It’s still very new, so it’s ‘watch this space’ type thing at the moment. He may have some issues that need to be dealt with before we can move on, but I am optimistic for the first time in ages.” The truth of his words made his insides glow. God, just talking about him lifted his mood. Glancing away, Martin blinked fast, trying to focus on something else. His emotions wreaked havoc on him.
What would happen if Brad didn’t want him in the same way? His fists clenched. Nothing. There was no choice, and he’d better well bloody get used to it.
Ann raised her hands almost in surrender when Martin jerked back from her touch.
“Congratulations. He suits you. I’m pleased you met someone that’s allowed you to show your lighter side. I haven’t seen that in years.”
Her words mirrored his thoughts. Martin shivered. She was a spooky woman sometimes.
Finalising plans, he released the lip he was chewing, grateful she’d dropped the subject of Brad. Instead, they discussed his weekend plans. Saturday had been a work day for him, involving clients due to his new business. It was a pain in the backside, but a necessity to ensure both businesses ran smoothly. His usual evening plans would include going clubbing when he was in London. Ann’s shocked expression was telling when he refused her offer to go clubbing.
Martin’s shoulders drooped at the thought of going out without Brad. But the thoughts of Brad in clubbing gear had him consider his next trip. Maybe in the not-too-distant future he could bring Brad with him on a trip which included a night out?
He declined Ann’s offer of dinner and thought of FaceTiming Brad. Martin scooted back to the hotel, eager as a puppy dog for play time. As his mind planned out the evening, he was unaware of his crafty smile. The “devil may care” look that would have had Sarah running in the opposite direction at high speed, knowing he was up to no good.
Rushing as soon as he got to the room, he washed, dressed, and ate in quick succession. There was a niggle in his chest that he hoped wasn’t indigestion as he’d forgotten his medication. Sitting straighter, he gulped some water and settled against the bed head. Having charged everything earlier, he took several breaths. Trying to calm his skyrocketing pulse, he touched his face. Maybe he should turn down the heating. He was starting to sweat. His palms felt sticky too.
Rolling quickly on the bed and getting up, Martin flicked the air con on before rushing back. He plonked down, then watched in abject horror as the iPad bounced before he heard the sickening thud. His earlier meal rebelled as he launched himself across the bed. His roar was deafening. “Fucking hell!” He snatched the iPad off the floor. Air whooshed out as relief flooded him. Not broken. He checked it twice. You couldn’t be too careful.
“Stupid, stupid fool.”
Stalking back to the bed, about to sit, he stopped mid-flop. Martin looked at the iPad he’d placed on the edge of the bed. Stupidity, defined as repeating the same behaviour and expecting a different outcome. Yep, that so would have been him. Sheepishly, he picked it up, moving it to the nightstand.
Suddenly feeling apprehensive and needing to move, he fidgeted as excess energy rolled through him. He jogged on the spot, flexing and pumping his arms. He didn’t care how it looked. He just needed to move. He sensed the heat build and spread. Stretching and loosening his muscles seemed to reduce his anxiety. Feeling calmer, he headed back to the bed. Shaking out his legs, he leaned back against the headboard and took a deep breath before hitting dial.
Brad’s face loomed on the screen in seconds. Martin’s tension liquefied, filling him with peace and happiness that seemed to flow from Brad.
“Hi, baby. Miss me?” He snapped his lips together at the needy quiver in his voice. Loosening his tongue from the top of his mouth, swallowing, he could feel the nerves kick in. For fuck’s sake, he could do this. He glanced at the hesitant expression peering out of the screen. Why couldn’t he remember any of his moves? Talk to him. Gripping the iPad, Martin asked the first question that popped into his mind. It seemed to work as the conversation started to flow, even if the answers he received were stilted. He was relieved. At least the knot in his gut had eased somewhat.
Brad’s feisty spark when he spoke about work was a complete turn on. He was clearly in demand by the number of web design projects he discussed. Christ, he would put even the most diligent person to shame. Martin wondered when he had time for fun. He was unaware his brows had risen, furrows deepened, when Brad spoke, shaking him out of his thoughts.
“Am I boring you? No one ever asks me about my work except those interested in hiring me. My family was never interested, so I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. Everything I do is online, so I don’t often talk, well, except with Princess, and she doesn’t count. I can get a little carried away.” Brad’s rambling halted.
Martin could hear Brad’s breath hitch as his gaze skittered away, almost scared of what Martin’s response would be. Martin took a controlling breath, calming his crazed system. Why was Brad so afraid? He could feel his anxiety rolling off him in waves. Needing to help, he gentled his tone. “Take a breath, baby. I love your enthusiasm.”
His words appeared to sink in past Brad’s anxiety. Their meaning becoming clearer to Martin as Brad’s loneliness smothered him. How did this good-looking man have nothing but work? Hell, why would anyone want just work?
Patience. Remember they had time. Martin just needed a little of both to discover Brad’s secrets. Needing a distraction, his mind whirled with possibilities. “I get back tomorrow morning. Do you want to spend the day with me? As it’s a Sunday, maybe we could explore the island a little?”
Brad’s hesitation made his heart stop. Please don’t say no, don’t say no, his eyes pleaded against his will.
“What would that entail?” The little spark of interest in Brad’s voice spurred him on.
“Well, I thought we could explore the island to find a nice place for lunch. A beach walk maybe? How does that sound?” He shrugged, going for a “couldn’t care less” look. Martin knew he’d failed miserably when the impish smile spread across Brad’s
face. Shit. He sighed. Martin sounded put upon, but he knew different.
He had just described a date, yep, a bloody date. Feeling the blush heat his cheeks at his neediness and knowing he was overthinking it didn’t help at all. Martin tried not to pressure Brad and chatted about mundane stuff.
Brad’s fidgeting seemed to be becoming more pronounced as the conversation progressed. He was intrigued by the disappointment etched into Brad’s face as they were coming to the end of the conversation. Innately knowing what Brad wanted, Martin leaned forward. His excitement made his words sound husky as he spoke. “Do you want to play, baby?” Martin held his laughter in when Brad’s enthusiasm had him bouncing his head in agreement. He’d get whiplash if he’d moved any faster.
“Sit back on the sofa. Let me see all of you.” Using his commanding tone, he wanted Brad to understand it wasn’t a question. Pleased as Brad complied, Martin watched his hands flutter at his sides. Nerves were evident, but he lifted his gaze, connecting with Martin. The glint of desire he could see had his pulse accelerating, drying his mouth.
Martin rasped out, “Take your T-shirt off.”
Brad’s fingers fumbled with the hem. “Now, baby.” Squirming, Brad’ dropped his T-shirt on the floor. Eyes looking like stormy tropical seas engulfed Brad’s face. Martin focus fixed on them. Not blinking, he looked his fill. His tongue rolled around his teeth wanting to lick, suck, and fucking bite those tasty rosebud lips. Feeling he was almost salivating, he checked he hadn’t dribbled.
Fuck, Brad took his breath away. Vibrantly, his skin glowed with health. The golden canvas highlighted the pink of his nipples. His abs rippled as he twitched under Martin’s heated stare emphasising a hairless chest. He could eat him alive. Growling low, he tried to rein himself in, not wanting to scare Brad.
Martin missed nothing, not even the hands tensing before they moved to cover his naked body. His molten gaze stopped Brad in his tracks. The silent command had hands fluttering back down, gripping his jeans tightly instead. Oh no, that would not do. A devilish smile lit Martin’s eyes at the thought of what was coming off next. Brad wasn’t going to be wearing jeans for long. Martin wanted Brad naked.