by J P Sayle
What Brad noticed was the size and the noise level. There must have been around thirty people in cubicles, all on phones. Phones ringing and constant chatter distracted him. How could people work in this? He would appreciate the quiet of his little office when he got home after this chaos. Movement never ceased, colours blended, and clothes ranged from bold to grunge. No one paid them any attention. Everyone was focused on what they needed to do.
Brad searched for Stuart. He prayed his egg sandwiches would stay put as it was tossed around in his stomach. Tasting them at the back of his throat was making him sorry he’d eaten it. Breathing through his nose, he used every technique he could think of to ease the feelings inside him.
Martin’s warm hands gripped his neck, massaging. Looking at Martin’s reassuring smile did little to unravel the ball of string that now was his stomach. Lips buzzed in a light caress, teasing him.
“Come on. Sarah is waiting for us.”
He felt as if he was careening down a mountain, and his hands clutched at imaginary brakes, hoping to stop what was happening. Sarah’s voice floated through his panic.
Sarah’s big hug offered silent support. He was positive she could see the panic filling Brad’s face. Her words were not making him feel any better. “Come on. We have the conference room all set up.” Sarah bustled past Brad, and he followed, even though he didn’t want to.
Brad did not pay attention to where he was walking, and the wire catching his foot had him lurching forward. His arms searched for something to grab just before strong hands gripped and stopped him before he landed on his knees. He looked up. The room spun as shocked charcoal-grey eyes stared down.
Brad moved as if his skin burned. He felt scalded where Stuart’s hands had touched. Ignoring the urge to rub his arms, he stepped towards Martin. Martin’s arms automatically held him tight as Brad tried to speak. His lips moved but nothing came out.
Stuart’s colour drained. As he tried to hide his shock, a neutral mask he’d developed over the years slipped into place, hiding his rioting emotions. “Good to see you again, Brad. What’s it been, seven or eight years since I last saw you?” Stuart pushed his hand towards Brad. He was pleased when his remained steady.
Brad’s shaky hand gripped Stuart’s. Holding his breath, he waited for the fear to take the legs from under him, knowing it was inevitable. His surprise spread when he felt nothing. He was perplexed. Had he imagined everything? Blown it all out of proportion? Was he finally viewing Stuart as a man would, no longer the frightened child? As he gripped tighter, Stuart’s indrawn breath had him stilling and letting go.
Brad gave Sarah and Martin a reassuring smile, indicating he was fine. He assessed his now settled stomach. It would appear he was. Relief flooded him.
“Well, as you seem to know Brad, there is no need for introductions. This is Martin Clegg, his partner.” Martin’s possessive growl at Sarah’s words had Brad smile.
Martin and Stuart’s hands clasped and all Brad could think was that dominance meeting dominance, both of them fighting for supremacy. Brad held his breath as he watched the silent battle of wills. Brad watched as they assessed each other, weighing up their opponent’s weaknesses. Though Stuart stepped back first, Brad wasn’t convinced it was because he was cowed. No, the glint of steel indicated anything but.
He thought he could see regret for a second before Stuart turned away. Was he sorry, or was it because of the job he might not get? They’d soon find out. Taking a big breath, he followed after them. Sarah led the way into the conference room but paused when Stuart stopped.
“Could I have five minutes of Brad’s time before we start?”
Brad lifted his hand as Martin objected.
“I don’t think so.”
Stuart all but bristled at the anger Martin was displaying.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Squeezing Martin’s fingers, Brad tried to convey he needed to do this on his own. Stepping away was harder than he’d liked to admit. He looked at Sarah and spoke before Martin could stop him. “Sarah, do you have somewhere we can talk privately?” Though he sounded a little nervous, Brad stood straight, locking his knees. Her encouraging smile before she escorted them to a small office buoyed him slightly, until she shut the door behind him.
He felt his heart wanting to flee right out of his chest. Sitting before he fell, Brad waited to see what Stuart wanted. As the silence lengthened, Brad moved his hands under the table so Stuart couldn’t see them tremble.
“I’m sorry.”
Brad darted a quick look-up. “Pardon, what did you say?” Looking at Stuart standing by the door, Brad was positive he had a pole stuck up his backside he was so rigid. Giggles tried to escape as images filled his head. Coughing, Brad attempted to get himself under control, knowing it was his nerves.
“I’m sorry. I know our past encounters were difficult for you. It’s hard to explain, but I have no excuses for what I did to protect myself and my family. I needed the job, and I couldn’t afford for him to be suspicious.”
Brad blinked in disbelief. That had to be understatement of the year, but it was the last part that held him captive. Was he gay? Had he been living a lie? It would make sense of the sadness he had felt at times, the regret. “Are you gay? Is that why you hated me so much? What did I ever do to you that would make you act so abominably towards me?” His anger grew as he spoke. “Do you have any idea what he did to me?” Grasping his top, Brad pulled it up, showing the damage years of abuse had caused him. His anger grew teeth that wanted to take a big chunk out of Stuart’s calm demeanour.
The sharp inhale was little substitute for the torment he’d suffered at his father’s hands. He was exhausted, and his emotions ebbed when he realised what he had done. Brad never willingly showed his scars. Righting his clothes, he gave himself time to calm.
Stuart’s hands balled, and his eyes blazed with unshed tears. “I didn’t know. Fuck. I had no idea. I knew he was a crazy fuck, but insane, not that, no.” Guilt rolled over him, sinking hard, and he was unable to fight against it. Stalking away from Brad, Stuart paced to the window. His normal blank expression was gone. Despair was etched into every line of his face. He turned to look at Brad. “Did I cause that?”
Pinned to the chair by the intensity in his eyes, Brad couldn’t lie and nodded. Brad rushed to explain when he saw utter devastation cross Stuart’s face. “You caused some of it. If I back chatted to you, then I paid for it when you left. But he had been doing it for years.”
Stuart’s face crumpled. Tears made his cheeks look like streaked marble. The light from the window caught them, making them glisten. Burying his head in his hands, he shook as the pain sliced deep. What had he done? By protecting himself, he’d actively hurt someone else with careless behaviour. “What a fucking mess. How could you ever forgive me? I’m not even sure I could forgive myself at this stage. Sorry is just too pitiful. A little like me.” Stuart plonked himself down, his legs unable to hold him up. Feeling the light tap on his arm, Stuart lifted teary eyes to Brad.
“It’s okay. You didn’t make my father do anything. He’d been hitting me for years before you came. He didn’t need another excuse. You were just easy to use.” Brad could hear his own sadness as he reassured Stuart. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Thoughts niggled at something Stuart had said earlier. “What did you mean you couldn’t afford for him to be suspicious?”
Dismayed steel-grey eyes glittered in anguish. “My father had cancer. The treatments took every penny and then some. I needed the job to support my sisters and mother. I knew your father hated ‘gays.’ He was renowned for it. So I hid and pretended to be straight so I could survive.”
Brad felt the grief as the story unfolded. Stuart’s love for his family was very prominent. They were lucky to have him. Brad’s jealousy curled in his belly for a family he’d never met. Unsettled, he stepped back. “Come on, you have an interview to attend.”
Startled, Stuart just stared at him.
&n
bsp; “What? It alters things for me that you apologised. I’m not sure if I can forgive totally, but I understand now, which makes all the difference.” Offering Stuart a handshake, Brad was a little perturbed Stuart’s arms held him tight. Hugging, Brad patted Stuart’s back, a little uncomfortable being this close. Getting ready to pull back when the door flew open, he felt Martin’s anger penetrate a second too late for him to pull away.
Brad tripped over his feet to stop Martin mid-punch, pushing against his solid chest. “Hey, stop that.” He stepped between the two snarling wolves. Brad tried to ignore Sarah’s giggles. Stepping directly between them, Brad slapped his hands onto two large, muscled chests. Heat spread as the image of a Brad sandwich had him blushing at his naughty thoughts.
Mortified, he quickly regrouped. “Eh okay, right now, you two go sort yourselves out. This macho bullshit needs to stop, now.” His stormy expression held both of them captive. As he was finger-wagging them, Brad’s hips jutted in defiance. “This ends now. Martin, he was saying sorry. We have cleared the air.” Brad caught Stuart’s leer. “You stop that right now. You want this job, then behave.”
He stomped to the table, indicating the two chairs. “Sit, talk, resolve. You both know you’d be a good fit. Work-wise.” He stressed the last part to both of them before Brad stepped back, but not before caressing Martin’s shoulder for a second, needing to reassure himself. Brad beckoned Sarah. “Come on, let’s leave them to fight it out. I need a drink and not a bloody soft one.”
Brad stomped out. He’d overlook Sarah’s laughter when he glanced back to see both Martin and Stuart’s mouths hanging open. Good, that showed them. “Now, there must be a cocktail bar nearby. Let’s go get drunk.” This day was just too much.
Several cocktails later, feeling no pain and laughing but not sure why, his phone vibrated for the seventh time. He giggled. “Look, it’s him again.” Words slurred as he attempted to swipe the screen. Why were there two fingers when he was sure he was only using one? He waved it around. Yep, there were two. Great. He’d have a spare one. Foolishly grinning, he tried to focus on reading the text.
This is the fifth time I have texted. Where the fuck are you?
Lifting his dizzy head, he looked around. “Where we are? Martin’s lost me. Stupid Martin. Why didn’t he come too? Then we wouldn’t be lost, now would we?” Brad could not understand what Martin’s problem was. He wasn’t lost; he was with Sarah.
Sarah giggled, smacking her lips against his. “Yooooou so right.” Taking the phone to her mouth, she spoke to the blank screen. “You hear that? You should’ve come with us.”
Brad peered at the phone, perplexed. “Who’s you talkin to?” He squinted at the screen. Was there someone there? Taking the phone, he rattled it, waiting. Nope, he couldn’t hear anything.
“Let’s have another drink. I’m wanting the pink ones.”
Brad nodded at Sarah before watching her whirl in circles. Oh, dancing, he loved to dance. Swaying, he staggered just about keeping his footing. His hips swirled out of time. He slipped sideways. The bar stool tilted under his hands. Wow. Hold your horses. Who moved that? Looking up, Brad grinned drunkenly. “Hello, we’re not lost anymore.” Missing Sarah’s sleeve by a mile, he skidded forward. Martin’s arms held him up. “Thank you, babe. You want a drink?” Oblivious to everything, Brad realised he wanted a kiss.
Mashing his mouth against Martin, he sank into the kiss. Brad’s legs climbed up his personal jungle gym, clasping tight.
He groaned with pleasure when the taste of coffee combined with the deep, intoxicating taste of Martin overwhelmed him. Lost in a drunken haze, Brad chased Martin’s lips. “Nooooo, come back.” Alcohol made his head swim.
“You, my friend, are drunk, and I am going to kick my sister’s arse for this. Though that might have to wait. She appears to be as drunk as you.” Martin’s exasperated tone barely registered as Brad gave a sloppy grin.
His head felt too heavy for his neck. Eyeing Martin’s shoulder, he thought it resembled the best comfy cushion. He’d just rest for a minute. Closing his eyes had the room spinning hard. Brad buried his head in Martin’s neck. He felt the sigh rumble up Martin’s chest. Emm. That felt nice was his last thought as alcohol took over.
Martin
Martin listened for what had woken him. He realised Brad was back in the bathroom. He glanced at the clock. Fuck, they’d been at this for hours up and bloody down like a ruddy yoyo. Muttering, he was going to strangle Sarah with bare hands. Martin hoped, for her sake, she was suffering as much as Brad.
Yesterday‘s nightmare continued into today, and Martin could still feel the remnants of his anger at Brad’s antics. He didn’t understand why Brad had not answered his phone or responded to his texts. All right, the texts may have been a little angry, but still, he should have answered. Spending several hours frantically searching for him, he’d given up and rang Joe. He was grateful he’d picked up after his long silence. Not having time to get into with him, he explained instead what he wanted. The waiting had made him feel helpless as his concern grew.
Brad storming out, not speaking about what had happened with Stuart, had his mind whirling. He fretted, and the worry had turned to anger when he’d finally caught up with the pair of reprobates. Watching a rather drunk and handsy Brad happily dancing around in a cocktail bar with not a care in the world had made his hands itch to spank his backside. Making matters worse, Brad had climbed up him like he was a tree when he finally noticed him. Latching on, then as you like, humping against him like a dog in heat.
Fucking forget that he’d nearly come in a busy bar filled with fucking teenagers as Brad ate him like a starving man. Affronted, he’d then struggled to get them to leave. Brad, though he didn’t weigh a lot, turned into a dead drunken weight when he lost consciousness. He managed to get them both home and Brad in his own bed with Princess guarding him. Running home and grabbing some of his things, he’d returned feeling a little embarrassed when Princess had watched with interest as he’d put his things away in the wardrobe. He was convinced that at one point she’d looked smug. The strange thoughts wouldn’t let go of him overnight.
He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts. Maybe he was overtired from the long night. He stalked to the bathroom when the noise stopped. He looked down at the pitiful heap on the floor. Princess was curled up next to him.
He heaved a sigh. “Come on. You can’t sleep on the cold tiles.” As he lifted Brad, his vomit-coated breath wafted towards him. Changing his mind, Martin headed for the sink. “Let’s brush your teeth first. It will make you feel better.”
Pathetic whining was the only response.
He hid his grin. “I am going to make you something that will settle your stomach now that it’s empty.”
Brad’s feeble grumbling and head holding had Martin chuckling at the picture of utter dejection staring back. Resigned, he carried Brad back to bed. “You make sure he stays put, Princess.”
Princess’s eye roll had him pausing. Was she sneering? Martin frowned. Christ, her face was more expressive than some humans he knew. The groaning distracted Martin and made hurry, using what he brought over last night.
He headed back up to Brad. “Come on, baby, drink this.” He lifted Brad’s head. His nose wrinkled in distaste. He pinched it, so the swampy smell didn’t make him retch. Martin pushed the glass to his lips, holding tight as Brad tried to rear back. “No you don’t. Come on, drink.”
Force-feeding him, the choking sounds had Princess growling. “He’ll feel better, I promise, but I never promised the medicine would taste good.” Tears streamed down Brad’s face. The pitiful expression made Martin’s stomach twist and clench in guilt. “Hey, come on. I promise you’ll feel better in one hour. I promise, now that all the nasty alcohol is out of your system.” Feeling the ball of tears build at the back of his throat, Martin swallowed hard and got on the bed. Needing to comfort them both, he cradled Brad. He gently rubbed Brad’s temples, knowing they had to be poun
ding. “Shush now. Go to sleep. I’ve got you.” Watching his eyelids flutter, he gently rocked him. Martin needed Brad to feel better because this had him feeling like a total bastard. Watching him like this was awful. Never mind that it was self-inflicted. “What a fine mess we got ourselves into,” Martin whispered to a sleeping Brad.
Martin tried to sleep, but his mind wanted to think about yesterday afternoon and Stuart. He’d been incensed that Stuart wouldn’t elaborate on what Brad and he had discussed in private.
He’d paced anxiously outside that room. Only Sarah had stopped him the first six times he’d tried to enter, but his overriding need had worn Sarah down. Immediately feeling it was too late when he burst in the room, he’d clenched his fists at the sight of Stuart wrapped around Brad. He’d wanted to rip Stuart’s arms out of his sockets for daring to touch what belonged to him. The violence inside him had threatened to consume him. It was only the shock of Brad standing up to them that stopped him.
Fuck, it had been as hot as hell. Brad was magnificent as he dressed them both down. The arrogant indignation suited Brad well. Then the fucker knew what he was doing. Making matters worse, Brad had left without talking to him. He heaved a sigh. What was he going to do? The urge to wrap him in cotton wool and tuck him into his pocket fought with how proud he was. Brad had dealt with his shit yesterday like a champion. He, on the other hand, was a certified mess. Martin yanked his hair in frustration.
He watched Brad roll into his pillow, and inhaled deeply before tucking his hands under his chin. Warmth flooded his chest. He was turning into such a bloody sap. What the hell had Brad done to him? Knowing Brad needed to sleep off the hangover, Martin reluctantly left him.
Feeling antsy, he grabbed some shorts and headed for the spare room. Silver equipment gleamed in the morning sunlight. Now what to do first? Stretching, he headed for the cross trainer. Setting it up, he got to work, hoping exercise would help until Brad could answer his questions. He stopped mid-stride. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? Nope, that wasn’t going to work for him. His eyes hardened, and righteous anger resurfaced. No. Brad would tell him even if he had to torture it out of him. Eyes gleamed at the thought.