by J P Sayle
Martin lost track of time. Sweat soaked his bare chest. The sound behind Martin had him turning. He saw Princess sprint in front of Brad. He was pleased that Brad’s colour was no longer the lovely shade of green it had been earlier. His eyes still had dark circles under them from the lack of sleep, but they were brighter. Thank God. “Do you feel better, baby?”
Martin eyed the finger Brad jabbed at his chest.
“That was cruel, forcing me to drink that, that, swamp water.” Brad shuddered as the accusation pinned him to the machine. “Why would you be so mean? Didn’t you think I’d suffered enough?”
Brad’s indignation motivated Martin’s body. As he leaned forward, sweat dripped down his face, and he pushed back his soaking hair. He bumped Brad’s nose with his. Drops of sweat had Brad screwing his face up in disgust.
“Eww.” Brad wrenched back from Martin.
Letting him go grudgingly, he couldn’t help the amused smile when Brad rubbed at his now wet face. “How do you feel right now?”
Brad’s stumped expression merged into a look of wonder.
“See, I fixed you. Not that you deserve it, you ungrateful heathen.” He ruffled Brad’s hair as he passed.
Martin headed for the shower, pleased when feet pattered behind. Perfect. Water gushed over them as Brad pretended to be disinterested in having a conversation. Not dropping it, Martin carried on. “Are you going to tell me what happened with you and Stuart and why I happened to find you wrapped in his arms?” The anger he thought had gone forced its way out. Taking a moment, he waited for Brad to talk. He kept his eyes locked on Brad, who was busy chewing his lip and feasting his eyes halfway down Martin’s naked body. Martin rubbed soap into his skin, and slicking his fingers, he teased his cock. He watched Brad’s pupils dilate. His pink tongue snaked out, licking the water that had settled on his lower lip. Enjoying the tease, Martin turned away, pleased by the huff that followed as he hid his grin.
He went back to the subject. “Come on, spill, baby.” Finished washing, he stepped out to dry himself. The wary expression Brad wore had him turning to hide his victorious smile as Brad spoke.
“Stuart explained a little about his life and his reasons for taking a job with a homophobic arsehole. We cleared the air. In some ways he was more trapped than me.”
Brad’s frown as Martin dressed didn’t harm his ego. Coughing past the chuckle, Martin carried on dressing.
“I felt sorry for him, and the irony of that is not lost on me either. But I felt relieved to have talked about it and understood what was behind it.”
Brad’s dimples winking fast and the mischief lighting Brad’s face had Martin wondering what he was up to. Turning, he watched Brad saunter out of the shower into the bedroom and pause at the door. “He’s gay by the way.”
Gobsmacked that Brad had lobbed that grenade at him, he chased after him. Brad’s warm damp skin made it hard to concentrate, but he wanted to make his point. Martin’s eyes hardened, the message clear. “You. Are. Mine.” Each word was punctuated with a solid, wet-lipped kiss. Martin whistled tunelessly, immensely satisfied by Brad’s dazed expression as he headed to the kitchen with Princess hot at his heels.
Thinking about what Brad had said, he supposed the predatory way Stuart had followed Brad’s departure should have alerted him, but he had been too busy seeing red to notice. He understood better than anyone what Brad could offer. Yesterday’s urge to slam his fist into the smug bastard’s face was turning into a real possibility. Offering him a six-month contract maybe was not the best thing he could have done. Ann had encouraged him when he had conference-called her into the interview. Grudgingly, he admitted to her that he would be a perfect fit. Stuart’s UK-based contacts could bring more offshore business to them. He now just needed to talk to Brad about it to see how he really felt about Stuart working for him and the possibility of regular contact. Not sure how happy he was about that, he distracted himself getting breakfast ready.
Brad strolled in minutes later dressed in black joggers and a multicoloured 80’s band T-shirt. Martin got straight to the point. “So how would you feel if Stuart came and worked for me?” Martin checked for any hesitation, not taking his eyes off Brad. The headshake seemed genuine.
“Nah, I don’t have a problem with that. I told you we resolved our issues.”
Brad’s heartfelt sigh when he sat made Martin squirm, jealousy twisting knots in his stomach.
“We may never be bosom buddies, but it was clear when I knew him, he could do his job. It pains me to say it, but he will be an asset to you, Martin.”
Martin felt the tension ease when he realised he was being foolish and Brad was not interested in Stuart. Needing to reassure them both, he hugged Brad closer. Brad’s next words had Martin roaring with laughter, tears tripping him.
“It will be fine, and if it’s not, you’ll just have to kick his arse.”
Stupidly pleased by Brad’s confidence, he would protect him. Martin wiped at his face as Brad spoke.
“Come on, what are you feeding me? I need to get rid of swamp aftertaste. It’s yucky.” Feeling much better, Martin decided to make pancakes. He got Brad to help, and they worked together, enjoying the simple task.
Princess sat watching their antics. She had been shocked last night at Martin’s inquisitive intelligence, taking note. It was not something she could take for granted. Burying her head, she was too close to success to lose now. She chuckled. “Meowwwww.”
Paws practically rubbed together with excitement at the prospect of the wedding bells she could all but hear chiming. “Dum, dum, de dum, dum, dum de dum.”
Two pairs of eyes turned in alarm, and both men came running. Gentle hands lifted her. “What’s wrong, honey, tell me?” Brad pleaded, exploring her little body.
Oops, she hadn’t meant to make a noise.
As she rubbed her fur against his cheek, her paws touched Brad’s stubble sending a silent message. Years of conveying her needs in a look had Brad’s smile back in place in seconds.
“She’s fine, aren’t you, Princess? Just a little left out is all.”
Martin pondered. He supposed that’s what it could have been. Feeding her, Martin watched closely, feeling his unease linger. There were times he felt there was something off about Brad’s cat. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there at odd times. Like now. Eyes far too human were watching, measuring almost. Brad’s connection with Princess was different from anything he had seen before. The effortless communication sometimes looked like they were speaking telepathically. Seeing Brad understand her silence was eerie.
Martin pondered the possibilities. Folklore, if he remembered correctly, talked of feline familiars, protectors. Cats were guardians rang at the back of his mind. Was it possible? He had to chuckle at his thoughts. God, he was getting as bad as Brad.
He shrugged off his thoughts and looked at Brad tucking in. “You’re feeling better, that’s for sure.” Humour had Martin’s lips curving.
“I suppose I should thank you for last night and this morning. I can’t remember much after cocktail number three, or was it four?”
The little minx had the cheek to smirk. Before he could rethink it, he flashed the picture Sarah had sent him after he’d sent her a dire warning. “You’re not the only one who is having a hard time this morning.”
Brad’s muffled giggles were short lived. Martin selected the video clip he’d taken last night, hitting play. Brad’s eyes widened in horror. Martin prepared himself as Brad launched to grab the phone. Martin danced back. “No, no, no. Keep watching.”
Crimson heat glowed across Brad’s face as he watched himself drunkenly dance around Sarah. Uncoordinated hips moved out of time of the music. Martin’s lips twitched when Brad buried his head in his hands.
He chuckled at Princess as she stuck her nose into the phone screen. Martin pressed play, holding it up for her to watch. Brad wailed in horror when he realised what Martin was doing.
“Noooooooo, don�
�t you give her that kind of ammunition. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Brad’s wailing made Martin howl. His laughter bounced around the room. Hiccupping, he tried to stop, but the sorrowful look was too much. “She’s only a cat,” was wheezed past the laughter. The heated glare set him off again. Tears streamed as he watched Princess prance around Brad, almost mimicking his dance moves. Oh, this was too funny. With shaking hands, he found the record option, filming Princess. A dancing cat? Whatever was next, this shit was going on YouTube. He sniggered at her antics. She’d just made Martin’s morning.
Brad flounced out of the kitchen, making Martin grin at Princess. “Come on, we’d better apologise to grumpy pants before we end up in the doghouse.” Princess’s glare had him holding up his hands. “Okay, the cat house.” Her answering nod gave him pause.
He was distracted by Brad’s shouting. “I heard that.”
He gave Princess a shrug before they headed upstairs. He found Brad pouting in his bedroom. The sulky face turned and gave him a snarling glare. Martin held up his hands in surrender. “Come on, it was funny.” Grabbing hold, Martin tickled. He loved the little giggles that erupted out of Brad. Martin couldn’t resist nuzzling into his neck, seeking the fragrant, soft skin. “What do you want to do today? That is if your hangover’s gone?” Searching Brad’s face, he was pleased to see he looked like his normal self. “Let’s go have some fun. I believe there is a wildlife park just up the road. There is also the remake of King Arthur at the pictures. Do you fancy that? Oh, I also need some plants for the garden. Come on, you know you want to come with me.”
Brad’s eye roll and flickering dimples had him pulling Brad to the door.
“Let’s go then.”
Returning several hours later, Martin was tired but happy. Brad’s obsession with the leading actor Charlie Hunnam grated on his nerves considering the coincidence of his blond colouring matching Stuart’s. Unsure whether Brad was trying to wind him up, he’d let it drop. Well, nearly. They snuggled on the bed where they had collapsed on their return, and the question was out before his common sense could prevail. “Do you prefer dark or blond hair?” His fingers fiddled, tugging Brad’s head back when he got no answer.
The mirth on Brad’s face had him sighing. “Okay, I’ll let it drop, but so that you know, I’m sure his hair is dyed.” He huffed, lying back on the bed and ignoring Brad’s amused expression. He let Brad curl up on his chest while the music lulled. Sia’s melodic voice had him drifting off. The words made him feel a little sad. “Take an angel by the wings, beg her now for anything, beg her now for one more day.”
Roused by the sound of water running, Martin gave a little start. Had he left a tap running? The thought barely formed as splashing penetrated. Cool sheets met his heated flesh. The smell was familiar but not his. His heavy-lidded eyes opened slowly as reality penetrated his cloudy mind. The rainbows dancing over the walls had him thinking they looked like little pieces of happiness. He smiled at his whimsical thoughts. His body reminded him something was missing, though. Brad.
Standing, Martin stretched, feeling muscles pop and groan in appreciation. God, he’d slept like a log. Rubbing his chest, he could still feel the weight where Brad had lain against him. He’d fit as if sculpted for him. He glanced down—and maybe somewhere else as well—like a heat-seeking missile, his cock led the way.
Martin feasted on the sight before him. Water rippled as Brad swayed in time to his headphones. The dreamy expression had his hands itching to touch. Temptation, gloriously wet and naked, displayed as if on a platter. The sun glinted off mirrors and glass, casting colourful patterns on Brad’s glowing, golden skin. Urges to grab his phone, to capture the moment so he could look at it, again and again, kept him transfixed.
Brad’s tropical green eyes finally registered his presence, devouring him. Martin saw his puffy lips pucker, offering himself up. Swallowing the need to rush, he leaned in gently and let his lips tease Brad’s willing mouth. He lapped before sucking his lower lip into his mouth and chewed until heated whimpers had him moving to create more contact.
Brad’s wet body beckoned as his hands grabbed Martin’s hips, toppling him into the water. Water splashed everywhere as he landed with a thud. Laughter died under the onslaught of Brad’s desire.
“Good morning, sleepy head. I never thought you were going to wake up.”
Martin’s groans reverberated as Brad peppered him with sloppy, wet kisses. Headphones were dragged off and thrown on the floor, forgotten. Martin explored the silky, wet skin under him, twisting and changing positions so Brad was straddling his hips. Martin spread him wide, slipping his questing fingers down Brad’s crease and teasing his rim. The heady moans had Martin struggling to breathe as he worked his finger into Brad’s tight channel. He was desperate not to hurt, but Brad’s grinding hips were teasing his cock mercilessly.
Water flooded the floor and neither cared when desire took control and drove them perilously close to the edge of the cliff. A cliff where pleasure would drive them both into oblivion.
Martin heard the words chanted as his ears buzzed, “Now, now, now.” The chant matched the tempo of his heart as Brad impaled himself on Martin, wailing his pleasure loudly. Brad’s cock exploded over them both. Letting go, Martin pounded into Brad’s unbelievable heat. The tight muscles squeezed until his vision greyed. Lungs screamed for air as he detonated into Brad’s arse. He was amazed as Brad’s cock continued to pulse and spurted his chest.
“Argh make it stop, oh gawd.” The garbled words died as Brad collapsed forward.
Winded, Martin convulsed with laughter as a buzzing whine had him turning.
Eventually it had Brad lifting up, asking, “What’s up?”
Blown pupils distracted him for a second before he pointed down. Seconds of silence had him wondering if he could see her. The muffled sniggers had him rethinking.
“Oh dear, she’s a little wet.” Brad’s laughter pealed out.
“She looks like a drowned r…”
Brad’s hand flew across his face.
“No, don’t say it. Manx superstition you can’t say that word. It brings bad luck.”
He chuckled at Brad’s serious expression. “RAT, RAT.” Chanting, Martin roared with laughter when Brad smacked his chest before he grabbed at the wooden chair next to the bath. “Now you’re just being silly.”
Brad scowled, the euphoric mood gone. “I am not.” He stabbed his chest “You wait and see. Something bad will happen now.” Brad started to climb out.
“Hey,” Martin bellowed, rubbing his aching balls. His accusing stare pinned Brad in place. “You did that on purpose.” Cum dripping out of Brad’s arse as he stood was a small consolation. Martin’s lips curved in satisfaction though when he watched Brad’s legs bow while he stalked to the shower.
Okay, maybe he should have listened. Heaving a distracted sigh, he ignored the slippy floor, trying to stand. His feet skidded, and he was sliding before he could grab anything. He landed with a resounding thud, and air rushed out. “Owwwww, fucking hell.” He gasped. The wet, tiled floor was cold against his heated skin. He staggered to his feet, arse aching and knowing what was coming. Martin grumbled at Brad’s mocking tone.
He ground his teeth at the, “Told you not to say it.” He watched Brad sail out of the bathroom, haughty righteous in every step. Princess, no better, poked her arse at him as she sailed out too.
Well, for fuck’s sake. Grabbing the towel rail and moving cautiously, he went to rinse off his injured pride. Well, that told him. He scowled at his disgruntled sigh and felt put upon. Now he was going to have to grovel.
Brad
Brad’s arms flapped as he paced in front of his wardrobe, glowering at its contents. “Oh for the love of God.” He tugged, and his hair fell in a tangled mess around his head. Knots increased as he pulled it mercilessly with each pass he made. It wasn’t making any difference. No matter how much he stared at his clothes, nothing was jumping out saying “pick
me.” He scratched his forehead. What was he going to do?
He glanced around. He had plenty of time if he could just decide. The crux was he just didn’t know what to bring. Flopping down on the bed, Brad glared up at the ceiling feeling his frustration and anxiety swimming around his body. Heat pushed against his leg. Turning sorrowful eyes, Brad begged Princess to help. “I don’t know what I should wear, or what to take. He mentioned clubbing.” He wailed in disgust when all he got from Princess was a bewildered expression. “Don’t you understand? I don’t have anything suitable to wear!” Fingers stabbed towards the offending wardrobe, “in there.”
He scowled in disgust. “I’m not even sure what you wear to gay club nowadays. Christ, I didn’t go to many before. How the hell am I supposed to know this shit?” Forlorn tears leaked out. “Eww, stop that.” Disgruntled, Brad swiped at his tingling face. The tiny, wet, rasping tongue made giggles escape past his misery. Stopping Princess mid-lick, he pushed her away. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m overreacting.”
Dragging himself up, he looked expectantly at Princess. “The thing is, I’m nervous. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. What if his friends don’t like me? What if, what if, what if. What ifs are driving me to consider getting pissed at ten o’clock in the morning.”
Wiggling off the bed, he avoided sitting on his tender backside. He grinned at the thought that popped into his head. He bet he wasn’t the only one with a sore arse today. His wry smile had Princess chuffing as if in agreement when he spoke. “He landed with such a thud I thought he was going to go through the ceiling.”