by J P Sayle
Sia’s lyrics sprang to mind. They fitted how he was feeling, ‘unstoppable’. Words danced inside his mind as he swayed around the kitchen, hips rolling to the imagined beat. Happiness lifted and caressed his torn soul, healing him. He could feel it pounding the hurt into submission as his new reality made him somehow feel stronger.
He’d barely existed before. The difference of today ripped away the veils, revealing his long-neglected need for more, for love. Martin. Hell, that was all he needed. He felt attached, tethered to another person in such an extraordinary way. Hope for something better, something more, filled him to the brim with joy.
Unbidden negative thoughts burst his bubble of happiness. What if Martin didn’t have the same depth of feelings? Breathless at the thought, he felt his legs fold. Slumping to the ground, he gripped his chest as tightness wouldn’t let the air in. His vision wavered. Thoughts battered, as his father had done in the past and hammered at his newfound joy. His gut clenched in pain from the rollercoaster ride of emotions.
Brad searched for Princess’s heat, knowing she would be there for him. He pulled her into his lap, and she snuggled closer, offering silent support and calming him. “Okay, it’s okay.”
Sadness drifted to the surface, even as he tried to reassure them both. He’d survived worse, but he knew deep down this would be different. The connection between Martin and him reminded of the ink from a tattoo. You could erase it, but it only erased the surface. The ink seeped deeper, beyond what could be seen, buried, becoming a permanent part of the person forever. Hidden, but there nevertheless.
Lifting himself up, the heaviness inside him making it difficult, he dragged himself towards the stairs. He needed the reprieve of sleep. He trudged upstairs. The heat against his leg was constant.
Brad heaved a sigh. Tomorrow was another day. He would have to wait and see what happened. “Hoping for more of the same couldn’t hurt, could it, Princess?” Her loud meow made him smile. Always his supporter. Maybe she was right, and things would work out.
Martin
Feeling philosophical, Martin was back to checking his phone for the umpteenth time. Brad had retreated since their interruption. The days of not seeing him were increasing. Seething with the urge to give Ms Stevens a piece of his mind was harder to control as the hours stretched. He felt the blame lay squarely at her door. Hate was always hard to acknowledge. Brad had had more than his fair share of that. He didn’t need more.
They had spoken on the phone several times, but it just wasn’t the same. There seemed to be an invisible line drawn between them. He was convinced the distance would only create more insecurity.
Checking the open doorway, he quickly attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of the paper he’d scrunched up while not focusing on what he’d being doing. Shit. He’d print it again. He sighed at his distraction. He’d spent days creating more work for himself. Martin’s mind only wanted to focus on Brad. Wishing he hadn’t left on Sunday, wanting to turn back the clock and tie him to his bed so he couldn’t escape, ever. Sighing heavily, Martin knew Brad was nowhere ready for that kind of thing.
Their conversations on replay he’d searched for clues, answers to how he could get him to open up further. The horrors inside him were creating barriers to living his life fully, God, anyone could see that. Who doesn’t leave the house for weeks? No human contact. Hell, he knew they’d barely scratched the surface, which only made him struggle more with how to move forward.
He had seen glimpses of humour. The laughter was right there, waiting to be set free. Ignoring the thud as his chair bounced off the wall, Martin paced and let ideas form. His smile spread. He just needed to introduce some fun into Brad’s life.
He grabbed his phone. No matter what, the line between them would be erased tonight whether Brad was ready or not.
Martin popped his head out the door in search for a phonebook. “Emma, do you have a phonebook I could use?” The simpering smile had his eyes rolling, wishing she’d just get over it.
“Yes, I’ll just find it for you.” The sugary sweet tone gave him a toothache.
Stepping back into the office, he purposefully shut the door. He didn’t need Emma nosing in his business. Searching for the number, he placed his order. Distracted, Martin hummed while he wrote a list. Plan, plan, and then plan some more.
He needed to infiltrate past the barrier Brad had put up. Back to grinning, butterflies kicked to life as adrenaline flowed through him.
Brad gave back something the army had taken from him, the feeling of being so alive. He’d missed the excitement of a new challenge. Now he just had to wait and see what response he got.
While he watched the clock, Martin surged forward as his phone vibrated. A silly grin filled his face at the text message.
Game on.
Emma barged through the door making Martin scowl. “Did you need anything else before I go for lunch?” Her nasal simpering made him grind his teeth.
Avoiding eye contact and trying to cover the bulge in his trousers, he prayed she didn’t think it had anything to do with her. “No thanks.” The dismissive tone was clear and had her flouncing out of his office. Martin glared at her retreating back.
He wished his wayward cock would behave. Emma didn’t need that kind of encouragement. What was going on in his pants was all about Brad, and he’d didn’t need her thinking different. Hell, since they’d met, Brad was all Martin could think about.
Now all he needed was for Brad to make the next move. The ball was firmly in his court. Now that he’d started the ball rolling, he found his ability to focus restored. Not wanting to think too hard about that, he focused on the work at hand.
He was going to be busy over the coming weeks, with several trips to London on the horizon. Travelling has never been an issue before, but now it was going to complicate things. Especially when only two days away from Brad made him antsy. Though London was a necessity it had now become a problem.
He twirled his pen. Could he expand the local office? Would it be possible to have a new office manager equivalent to Ann? The idea took shape. Not thinking too hard, he dropped the pen, firing off an email to Ann and Sarah. He needed their common sense as Brad had appeared to have stolen his. Hell, he was never reckless with business, yet the urge to just change things warred with common sense.
Financially affordable, viability, client workload would say yes. Weighing up his options, he could wait till Friday when he met Sarah for dinner. Emma’s screeching roused him. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to keep calm.
“Martin, can you come out here? I have some questions on the Bradford account. The figures aren’t quite adding up.”
Repeated warnings that this was a professional place of work weren’t working. She only had ten fucking steps to walk or pick up the bloody phone, but no, she has to screech like a banshee. Muttering under his breath, he crossed the room. Stormy seas would have looked calmer than the glare he gave her, but as usual, she appeared completely oblivious. Disgusted by the lack of professionalism, he barely controlled his temper. “Emma, how many times do I have to ask you not to shout in the office? You only need to get up and walk to my door or lift the phone?” His sarcasm floated over her head.
She beamed at him as if he’d said something dumb. Exasperated, he yanked at his hair, although he would rather throttle her. He’d be bald at this rate. He stalked back into his office, slamming the door in his wake. The sound gave little satisfaction.
Several hours later the issue with Emma was lost under the weight of everything else. Deadlines missed, paperwork not filed with the FSA. Not the best move, pissing off the Financial Service Authority. No one had owned up to the error, though he had his suspicions. It had created hours of additional work, meaning he’d missed lunch. His stomach growled its displeasure, and anger joined the party. Hangry. It did fit. He chuckled. When Sarah had been fed up at his griping when he got hungry, she had joined the two words together. It had stuck. Even his parents had used i
t against him.
His breath hitched. The grief still felt like a healing wound. Tiredness overwhelmed him. He needed the comfort of home and of a certain neighbour: Brad.
The trip home was thankfully short. People moaned about traffic, which was difficult to comprehend after the reality of devilish commutes into London. Travel locally. Hell, it was a doddle in comparison.
Parking up, he didn’t notice Brad immediately. Martin could feel his mood lighten. The hunger all but forgotten as tropical green eyes watched his every move, searing everywhere they touched. Taking a second to strap down his need, he reminded himself he needed to let Brad move at his own pace. Breathing deep, he stepped forward. His control held. Just. He hardly recognised the gravelly rasp as he spoke. “Hi, baby, how’s your day been?” Unable to resist, he let his lips hover over peachy sweetness. Seconds felt like an eternity. Relief was swift as Brad moved into him. Sweetness invaded the longing. Sighing drifted on the air when tongues met. Reacquainting as if parted for years rather than days, seeking familiar flavours. The cherry ever present, intoxicated. The ripeness erotically sexy.
Clutching Brad’s firm shoulders, Martin struggled to calm. Feeling Brad’s tentative touches stirred his very soul. His muscles quivered under his questing hands. Control! Holy hell, Brad was yanking his chain hard. Martin’s harsh breathing escaped, flooding Brad’s mouth as he tried hard to keep it slow and easy.
Breathless, he pulled back with difficulty. Martin’s mouth felt bereft at the loss. “Well, if that’s now the greeting I get coming home, it will be worth going just to come back.” Desire pulsed erotically when Brad’s hooded eyes gleamed with mischief-making.
Martin made a concerted effort stepping back, though it was much harder than anticipated. Pushing his hands into trouser pockets, away from temptation, was the sensible thing to do.
Brad’s wonderment as he spoke mixed with his dazzling dimpled smile had Martin preen. “My day was great. I got another job offer, and someone sent me some amazing flowers. You wouldn’t know who that was by any chance, would you?” Brad’s mischievousness tone and sparkling joy were turning into a lethal combination.
Martin felt his trousers restricting to the point of pain as his cock fought to escape. He was grateful for his suit jacket as he pulled it closed. He’d been right; fun did appear to be the key, even if it tortured him. He was willing to play the game. “Well, it would seem you have a secret admirer. Anyone I know?”
Brad leaned forward as if to share a secret. Whispered words caressed as hot, sweet breath brushed his cheek. “Well, if I tell you, it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?” Enjoyment sparkled out of Brad’s face. His words elated Martin.
“Have you eaten yet or got any plans tonight? I have made some spaghetti sauce you might want to share with Princess and me?” Brad’s eagerness was hard to resist. Martin nodded.
He asked, “Can it wait twenty minutes while I go and have a quick shower, wash the day off me?” Parting after gaining Brad’s agreement, Martin hummed with pleasure.
What would his next gift earn him? Grinning, Martin raced through the house, eager to get back to Brad. Feeling embarrassed by the speed, he spent a few minutes reminding himself Brad needed to take the lead. The flagpole in his jeans seemed to be having a hard time comprehending that though. Even the quick wank in the shower hadn’t taken the edge off. Growling, Martin untucked his shirt and grabbed the wine while counting his breaths. The excited buzzing pulse wasn’t helping his cause.
Why Brad’s house beckoned had baffled him. The bleakness was woefully different from its occupant. Fascinated, he was drawn irrevocably to both. Brad’s invitation to come in roused him from his thoughts. He was unaware he’d even knocked.
Stepping closer, he loved the familiar scent of ripened cherries. He let it tease and arouse. He watched as Brad’s eyes roamed over his body, missing nothing, and he was unable to resist teasing them both. “Do you like what you see, baby?” The pure want he saw had his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Electricity crackled, sparking the atmosphere. Shocked hairs rose making Martin shiver, making his pulse thrum with excitement.
Martin watched as Brad clenched and flexed his fingers several times before stepping back to offer him entry. He hid his knowing smirk. He loved how he affected Brad.
Glancing around to get his first proper look, Martin explored what he had previously missed the last time he’d been inside. He was intrigued by what he could see. “Is it all right if I have a look around? The inside is so different to the out. It’s kind of fascinating. The outside looks so bleak, yet inside, you’ve created vibrancy that smacks you over the head like a sledgehammer. The contrast is mind-blowing.” Reverence resonated in every word.
Met with silence, Martin felt disconcerted by the expression that flashed across Brad’s face. He was not sure how to decipher it. He let Brad go back to what he assumed was the kitchen after Brad had nodded.
Wandering, he loved how the rooms glowed with subtle lighting. Warmth exuded from every corner. Colours exploded, yet they lacked a harshness you would have expected. Family pictures captured Brad’s abiding love from his grandmother in the immortalised memories.
Furniture blended harmoniously. New respected old, the welsh dresser highlighting the bold modern tableware. Sofas hued in forest green and large comfy cushions reminded of lush grass, making you want to lie down. The old-fashioned wood burner was surrounded by driftwood that had been carved to flow across the chimney breast. Smoke stains enhanced its appeal. It encouraged you to sit, watching flames leap and dance.
Pictures hung on every wall had a repeated theme, beaches, all at different times of the day, inviting you to dream of sunny days. You could almost feel the heat of the sun penetrating your skin as the grittiness of the sand rubbed between toes. Skin would tingle as saltiness carried on the breeze. Serenity is what sprang to mind. He’d created a sanctuary.
Dramatic cliff views were the only difference between rooms. The back room next to the kitchen had Martin wanting to know if the upstairs was the same. However, his stomach was distracted by the glorious smell coming from the kitchen, and tempted him to leave his exploration.
He strolled into the kitchen when his stomach won out. Breath hissed past surprised lips. Brad’s surprised eyes skittered towards him. Martin’s mouth hung open. Was he drooling? Fuck, he loved it. He babbled, “Holy shit, oh my God, look at that Aga. Christ. Cooking in here must be a dream.”
Martin’s fingers itched to touch the teak and walnut counters. The beautifully polished surface gleamed. Teak cupboards, a perfect match for the centre island that housed a cream marble top that glittered under the old-fashioned copper lights. Copper pans hung on a suspended rack, casting reflections as the copper caught the last of the rays of sun. The breeze coming from the open bifolding doors moved through them, making music.
He turned his attention to the bifolding doors. Open they invited the lush tropical garden to become part of the kitchen. It was amazing. He stepped to the doors and looked out. Palm trees swayed, and leaves rustled against the umbrella shading the hammock. His feet moved as the desire to capture the dreamy peace that reflected in that space. It pulled at him. “Wow just doesn’t cut it. This is so beautiful. Your space is just wonderful. A little oasis. I am sure you can see the green tinge of my jealousy.” Riveted, Martin barely heard the words coming from behind him.
“I didn’t have to change much. Gran loved to cook, so she had had the kitchen redone not long before she died. The garden has just evolved. I love that the island has palm trees. Gran wanted to create an oasis with them. So I just kind of went with that theme. I’m glad you like it. I added the hammock as it just felt right.” Sadness exuded at the mention of his gran. It took the shine of Brad’s happiness.
Martin offered comfort, encasing Brad in a big warm hug. Brad’s weight settled against him, feeling so right. He forgot his earlier predicament until Brad’s jiggling hips highlighted what Martin’s T-shirt had been
hiding. Oh crap. He pulled back. Brad’s huff was pleasing, but he wasn’t going to break his promise. Brad needed to make the next move.
Brad ushered him to the table. The meal was delicious. Herbs mixed generously with extra garlic created a slight burn on the tip of his tongue, but the flavour was great. He didn’t care he would be a bit whiffy the next day.
He smirked at the thought that Emma might back off if he stank of garlic. Martin’s shoulders hunched automatically at Brad’s questioning stare, and guilt pinked his cheeks. He shouldn’t be thinking about Emma when he had a gorgeous man next to him. Distracting them both, Martin asked the first question that popped into his head.
“When did your gran die?” Realising too late that this was not the question to motivate Brad to make his move, he cursed under his breath.
Brad’s laughter removed the look of sadness. Shit, Brad had caught on to Martin’s motives. Martin was relieved when Brad answered anyway.
“It’s been several years since she died. It was all rather quick, really.”
He watched as Brad collected his thoughts.
“I’d been visiting just before my nineteen birthday. She’d had a persistent cough, so she went to the GP. He sent her for a chest X-ray, as a precaution. Anyway, it came back saying there was something there that shouldn’t be. They sent her for a scan and a lung biopsy. They diagnosed her with stage four small-cell carcinoma. They told us it had spread everywhere, that she was dying, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.”
Martin could see Brad’s clenching hands shredding the napkin as he was lost in the past as he spoke.
“It only took eight weeks from her diagnosis till she died. Those weeks we decided to make count in every way. It was, however, the final straw for my father.” The sombre mood cast dark shadows over the evening.
Martin, unable to hold back any longer, moved. He relished the way Brad fitted in his arms. The contact was soothing and dispelled some of the overshadowing darkness. Minutes ticked by as he stroked his back, offering love, even if he couldn’t offer the words.