by J P Sayle
Oh dear God, was he doing this? His feet seemed to think so. The thought of those skinny hands touching him had his feet dragging. He was desperate to stop what he knew was going to happen. Pouting, Brad hunched into his jacket, knowing he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to purchase the clothing. Eyes snapped towards the shop assistant. Surely he didn’t just say what he thought he did? When he repeated it, Brad groaned in horror, flushing scarlet.
Oh my God, oh my God.
“Take off your trousers and then give me a shout. I’ll just get the tape measure.”
The lisped request left him in a cold sweat. Doing as he was told, he fought the urge to cover up when the shop assistant came back. He clutched his T-shirt and pulled it down when hands fluttered around his crotch. The spidery fingers traced up under his balls, and the cold metal tip of the measuring tape grazed the crease of his groin. He jumped back. “Argh, err, are you sure you need to do that.” Cheeks crimsoned. He felt feverish. Brad was convinced he was going to pass out any minute.
“Of course I do, sir.” The following wink made it so much worse.
The metal tip scraped against his sensitive skin. Dark eyes glinted back at him with lust. He realised a second too late he may be doing it on purpose. Brad felt hot breath ghost over his briefs. He jerked back his head, only to have it cracked off the shelving behind him. Eyes watering his irritation had the words coming out sharper than he intended. “I think we’re done.” Feeling violated, he tried to act assertive and glared at the unapologetic man. He might be cute, but he was no Martin. Not even close.
Brad dressed while never taking his eyes off the shop assistant. He didn’t trust he wouldn’t try something else. The apologetic smile did nothing to calm his racing heart. He wanted out of the changing room. Like now.
Running back into the shop floor as if his arse was on fire, Brad grabbed what he wanted. After he paid, he got out as fast as his legs would carry him.
With his insides quaking, he headed towards the first coffee shop he could see. Brad sat at the window, taking a minute to calm down before placing his order. Feeling a little calmer when he sat back down, he opened the shopping bag and grinned like a loon. Okay, he may have been a little traumatised by the whole experience, but hopefully, Martin would enjoy the spoils of his battle. Giggling at his thoughts, he dropped the bag, feeling pleased as punch.
Movement outside blocked the sunlight, and he turned to see what had caused it. Brad froze in shock. The air exhaled, eyes widened, pupils dilated as crushing pain invaded his chest. Spots swam in front of his eyes and made his vision grey. Blinking rapidly, wheezing, Brad gasped. Shrinking back into the chair, Brad searched for a way to escape. His mind screamed “run,” even as his limbs refused to move.
The quiet question finally freed him from his paralysis. “Number three, sir?”
He stared blankly at the girl who prompted again. “Number three, sir.” She pointed at the number on his table as if he was dumb.
Brad shook his head, trying to free his mind from the turmoil. He found his voice after the waitress gave him a concerned look. “Yes, sorry, I was lost in thought.” Brad gave a weak smile before his eyes skittered back to the window and ignored the girl as she put his food down.
Brad craned his neck. “Fuck, shit, bastard!” He muttered at the now empty street. He recalled the brief conversation in the car. Martin wanted him to attend the meeting tomorrow. Dismayed, he groaned and buried his head in his hands. Doubts were gone. That one glance out the window had torpedoed his hope. The Stuart Wilson Sarah had mentioned was indeed the same man.
What the hell was he going to do now? Exasperated, he wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans. Grabbing his now unwanted sandwich, he ate for something to do. Trying to think about anything but his current situation. Every mouthful sat like lead in his stomach He gave up. He wasn’t sure he could do it.
Last night the floodgates had opened, but could he blow the bloody dam up and remove those final barriers and face his past in the flesh? Those few seconds he’d caught sight of Stuart had transported him back. The fear, for Brad, was a living, breathing monster. He wanted no part of his past life, yet if he didn’t face it, how could he move forward with Martin?
Worrying his lip, he wanted desperately to be open to everything Martin was offering. Fear had no place in their relationship. No matter what, the decision had already been made. Whether he was ready or not, it was going to happen. His dry throat had him leaning forward and picking up his cherry cooler. Ignoring the iciness, he swallowed deep. He enjoyed the ripe sweetness as it burst across his taste buds. Brad breathed in the scent of cherries, thinking of Martin.
He would be there to support him, protect him. He promised. Thinking Martin could kick Stuart’s arse himself if Brad needed him to, he chuckled at the image. He was not quite convinced his own self-defence classes and training DVD’s on martial arts would work, as he’d never had to put it into practice. Whereas Martin, he was sure, had had to deal with more violent incidents and would be equipped for that sort of thing. The bullet wound he’d found on his side was a constant reminder he had faced enemies Brad couldn’t even comprehend.
But this enemy was different. It could drag him into the dark, and Brad didn’t want to go there again. It was something he hadn’t even been able to voice to his therapist. Those moments when the pain was so dark it engulfed him whole. Not just the beatings, but the ugliness lathered on daily, removing the feeling of humanity, leaving him with nothing but ugliness.
Stuart was a witness, a participant in the verbal bashings. Could he hold him accountable? In reality, Brad didn’t want him to suffer, but he did want an apology and to finally understand why. Brad understood there was a chance that Stuart would be a perfect fit for Martin’s company, and personal vendettas had no place in that, no matter what Martin thought. It was going be a battle to convince Martin after last night and Brad sighed. Not that he owed Stuart anything, but he owed it to himself to be more than the hate he’d experienced. So he would try for them all.
Lost in his musing, Brad jerked when a voice spoke.
“I didn’t see you there, Brad. You look like you’ve been busy today.” Ms Stevens’s glacial tone caused an involuntary shudder.
What the hell was her problem? “Oh, hello, Ms Stevens, I didn’t see you come in.” His smile was not quite genuine, but he was unable to do anything about it. What had he done to upset her? Her icy stare held him captive. Brad stuck his hands into his hoodie to hide the trembling. Icy-blue eyes accused, but of what he had no idea. Feeling the need to fill the silence, he said, “Eh yes, I had a few things I needed.” Brad felt the flush rise at the thought of what he had bought. Ms Stevens’s icy stare, he was convinced, was cutting him to ribbons and making him bleed all over the lovely striped seat.
His fists balled involuntarily. He was unwilling to sit any longer and take her frosty intrusion. “Well, I must be off. You know, things to do and places to go.” Waving, Brad scuttled out of the shop, not waiting for a response. He felt relieved to feel the warmth of the sun after his arctic encounter. Confused by the emotionally draining encounter, he headed back to the car, needing the comfort of home.
Malicious eyes stalked Brad as he hurried away. Ms Stevens settled back down in her seat, pulled her phone out of her bag, and dialled. She waited, knowing he would take her call.
“We have a problem.” She got straight to the point. Her concern was obvious. “He appears to have found himself a boyfriend.” The distasteful words nearly choked her. Anger flowed out to the recipient of her call. “You need to do something about this. I said I would watch him, but this is too much. It’s appalling. Flaunting their behaviour in public in front of decent people. It’s revolting. You don’t have to watch it.” The accusation went unchecked. “You told me you had cured him. I beg to differ. He needs to be taught a lesson, but this time one that fixes him.”
The response fuelled the hate, and lips curled in disgust. Insanity gleamed out, unable to hide be
hind the veneer she had crafted as his words gave her a wonderful feeling of satisfaction. His assurance she would not have to wait much longer had an evil smile spread. The disgrace that currently was invading her cul-de-sac would be gone. Forever.
Brad spent the afternoon dithering over food, eventually choosing a beef casserole in red wine. It now simmered in the oven. Snazzy tablecloth and candles decorated his large teak table as he was aiming for a romantic feel. He searched Google, looking for ideas. Mimicking what he’d found, he used some of his gran’s dishes and glasses.
Feeling a little out of his depth, he’d roped Princess in for her opinion. Not that she’d helped much. Her eye rolling pissed him off. So much so, they’d ended up fighting and her stalking off, arse waving like a pirate’s black flag.
Frustration had his hair looking like a ball of unravelled wool. Muttering, Brad stalked upstairs. “Was it too much to ask for a little help? Was it?” He grumped when he spotted the clothes he’d bought but not tried on yet.
He looked guiltily at his office door, knowing he’d left the work he should be doing unfinished. Shoulders hunched as he mentally chastised himself for feeling guilty when Princess strolled in, giving him a “who the hell are you talking to” look. Feeling like a naughty teenager caught in the act of doing something he shouldn’t, he stared her down. The seconds ticked away. He shook his head when he realised what he was doing. Instead, he puffed out his chest, finger-wagging. “Don’t look at me like that. We talk all the time, and that doesn’t make you look at me like I am some weirdo.” Blabbing had his temper rising. “I have nothing to feel guilty about. I work hard every day. So I took a day off, went shopping, so what?”
He worked up a full head of steam, and it rankled Brad that he was whining. Princess never judged him. Okay, rarely. But he had things he wanted to discuss, and his nerves were getting the better of him. Ridiculous, he was being utterly ridiculous. They’d surely put him in ballabonkers for wanting his cat’s approval of his choice of boyfriend.
Brad’s strangled laughter had Princess giving him what appeared to be a satisfied cat grin. Strategy never was his strong suit. How to get the conversation going? He chewed his nails. For fuck’s sake, just do it. “Princess, do you remember when you mooned over that cartoon cat on the TV for weeks? Not moving till I put that stupid cartoon on.” He waited for her to acknowledge his words. Her simple shoulder roll was enough to have him carry on. “Well, I think I may feel a little the same about Martin. Well, it is different, he is real and not a cartoon, and I love him where I think you were just lusting. Not that I’m sure cats lust, but.”
Princess’s eyes glared before her backside did the “kiss my arse” move, and strolled towards the door.
“Okay, okay stop. It’s not the same.” Sniffing, Brad valiantly choked back the giggles, knowing he was rambling shit. He went and picked her up, trying to smother the giggles. “You are not funny. Okay, maybe a little.” Brad relented when she tickled her silky fur against his cheek. “I want Martin to live with us. You, me, and Martin; one big happy family. What do you say?”
Rumbling emanated from her tiny body, filling the air. The vibrations increased as she rubbed their heads together. Brad hummed in pleasure at her response. “I knew you’d understand.” The knots that had formed earlier decreased. Brad swayed, dancing with Princess, showing her how happy he was, they moved to a silent musical rhythm. The moment lengthened as they appreciated their bond, knowing nothing could break it.
As he twirled, his eyes landed on the clock, and he paused. “No way can that be the time?” He screeched, dropping Princess to the ground. “Crappppp, come on. We haven’t got much time, and I have a little something you just have to see.”
Princess
Princess cringed. Oh mother of God, what now? The devilish mischief on Brad’s face went hidden seconds later by flying clothes. Wanting to hide, she dug her nails into the carpet as her little world tipped. She shrugged off Brad’s fallen underpants. Then wished she hadn’t. Her eyes burned with images she couldn’t unsee. Rapid blinking didn’t stop the images. Lord on earth, what was that? Nope, she did not want to know. Or the reason for putting chocolate spread under his pillow. Nope, so not going there.
She cringed as Brad lifted her.
“What do you think? Does it make my bum look big?” Oh dear Christ, Martin is going to pay for this. Oh yes, he surely will. Distress had paws clawing to make her escape.
“Hey, stop that. I don’t have any clothes on.”
As if she needed reminding. Brad’s insulted glare pleased Princess when he at last put her down. Hightailing out the door, she ran for cover. His laughter followed her along with her mother’s. She sulked. They just weren’t playing fair.
Martin
He’d anticipated Sarah’s call, so he made sure he had privacy so he could talk freely. Filling her in, he felt satisfied her anger matched his, and he wasn’t blowing it all out of proportion. He was immensely delighted she’d fallen in love with Brad. Her loyalty to those she loved would never waver under any circumstance. They agreed on a plan of action, and he knew he would have her support. The meeting would go ahead, but the agenda for it was now dependent upon Brad.
He’d tried to talk about it this morning, but Brad had brushed it off by distracting him. Knowing he had done it on purpose had left him with a nagging headache. Brad’s reaction the previous evening had cut him to the bone. God, he could almost taste his fear. Stuart’s name released some of the poison that had festered inside him for years, but it seemed to allow for some healing.
The army had taught him that valuable lesson. You can’t hold that shit inside. It ruined any chance of a proper relationship. To make their relationship work they needed to face it together. At some point, Brad would also need to face his father. Martin was positive that suggestion would not be met favourably, if his reaction to Stuart’s mere name could paralyse.
Huffing, he felt himself going round in circles, his mind coming back to the CV Sarah had sent him. It pissed him off that it was excellent. In fact, without the history, he would employ him in a shot. Work experience fitted perfectly. His business contacts would complement Martin’s. The only sticking points: Brad and his anger. Could he work with someone who lacked integrity? Fingers tapped as thoughts circled round and round. No clearer about his decision, he found himself leaving work early.
Heading to Brad’s when he got home was starting to become a habit. Christ, in a few short weeks Brad had changed everything. He stopped at the thought, and a big arse smile lit his face. Hell, but look what he’d gotten as his reward. Martin knocked, impatient to see Brad. He really could do with a key. He’d broach that subject later, knowing it may be a bit too fast for Brad. But he wanted there to be no barriers, and that included locked doors.
Impatiently, he knocked again, and his eyes wandered to the dark exterior.
A puzzle.
The house’s gloomy, almost foreboding, exterior was so different from the dazzling inside. The brightness filled the whole space. It left him with a feeling of warmth that lingered all day. Brad had made a home Martin wanted. When had he started to think of this house as his home?
The feeling of rightness had increased when he’d explored the upstairs as Brad had slept last night. Hell, if he was honest, he was growing to love the house as much as the man. It called to him, although he was uncertain if it was because of Brad. But the way it invited you to relax, to make yourself at home, pulled at something inside him. He hadn’t felt like that since his parents had died.
Brad’s colour designs upstairs really made it feel homely. Terracotta and sand walls blended with plush, deep red carpets. He’d again mixed old with new. A four-poster, queen-size oak bed filled Brad’s bedroom. It was piled with lush multicoloured pillows. They complimented the handmade quilt cover. Large windows offered panoramic views of the horizon, cliffs, sky, and sea. They all merged into one on the horizon. Sand-coloured, floor-length curtains scattered with autumn-
coloured leaves, a perfect frame for the large glass wall that led to a balcony.
He could picture Brad and him sitting, watching skies darken as the sea swallowed the sun, casting glittering diamonds in its wake. He was convinced Brad’s past had helped create this special space. The results were breathtakingly striking. Home too simple a word for what he’d created. Sanctuary was more like it.
He had thought there could be nothing left to see, but the bathroom had left him speechless. Having stayed in five-star hotels all over the world, he’d never encountered anything as extravagant as Brad’s bathroom. Patio doors were the backdrop to the pure white cast iron leaf bath that sat in the middle of the room. Mirrored tiles covered the remaining walls, casting light everywhere. A tripled-headed jet shower enclosed with glass blocks sat in the corner. He knew they would allow any sun to penetrate through the prisms etched into glass. It was ingenious; his readymade rainbow factory that mirrored tiles would reflect everywhere.
Exploring the space, he noticed the bold-coloured candles. He realised they were the only colour in the room. The glass made the room feel alive with reflected colours. It was so simple yet shockingly effective. He’d imagined Brad sprawled naked in his big tub, the mirrors throwing the candlelight around the room. Brad’s golden skin glowing when the water lapped his body. The images had him remembering how hard it had been not to wake Brad last night and take what he so desperately wanted.
He blinked as warmth grazed his cheek, making him start. Martin blushed, smile awkward, as he realised he’d been caught daydreaming. “Hello, baby.” He stepped forward, and his mind blanked when Brad’s mouth offered a taste. The ripeness invaded all his senses. Desire pulsed as his earlier images merged with reality. Clasping hands gripped as tongues reunited, deepening the slide into heaven. Keeping it slow and easy. Their mouths clung lovingly, lips teasing. Martin changed the angle, looking for more as awareness skittered up his spine and made him stop.