by J P Sayle
Aaden
Following the instructions Greg had texted him earlier, Aaden parked up as directed on Victoria Street. Checking the dashboard, he was pleased to see he was early enough to maybe watch Greg flexing his tight, little body. The excitement he had felt all day fizzed through his bloodstream. No matter how many times he had tried to rationalise away the jittery feeling in his stomach and the warmth in his chest, he failed miserably.
He’d had to force himself to complete his bedroom this afternoon. And yes, his bedroom looked bloody good. The new Nolte cream cabinets, wardrobes, and bed frame that had been fitted that afternoon gave the room a light and airy feel, even in the dead of winter. The floors were now beautifully polished to a lovely rich oak shine. He’d hung the dark terracotta curtains up on the old railway sleepers he’d found on the internet. A business in Cornwall had salvaged them, turning them into curtain poles. He’d been so enamoured by the designs he’d bought one for every room.
And even if he did say so, they looked fantastic against the sand and terracotta walls. He couldn’t wait for Greg to see the difference from yesterday.
Yeah, that’s right. All this excitement is over bedroom furniture and stained floorboards you rushed your arse off to get finished to see what it looked like, not because I wanted to see my sexy red-headed beauty. No, it had nothing to do with that at all.
Dream on.
Scoffing at himself, Aaden exited the van into the dark, freezing evening. Overlooking his shaky, clammy hands, he locked the van, waited for a break in the busy evening traffic, and ran across the road. The freezing air chilled his exposed cheeks and hands. Aaden shoved his hands deep into his black leather bomber jacket, hugging it closer. He hurried up his pace.
Walking down the back alley, Aaden tripped over some uneven stone and lurched forward. He barely missed hitting the wall in front of him with his hands trapped inside his pockets. He cursed long and loud at the lack of outside lighting.
Seriously, the government needed to pull their fingers out of their arse.
Feeling all aerated, he squinted at the signs on the door, searching for the right entrance. Strolling in, he was grateful the staircase was at least lit. He took several breaths, attempting to calm his thundering pulse. Aaden wiped his hands down his powerful thighs over navy jeans. Jeans he’d spent far too long picking out, to go with the pale blue shirt Brad had insisted he wear instead of his normal T-shirt he’d planned on.
He huffed out a moan of complaint, trying to remember Brad was only helping him because he’d foolishly asked. The fact Brad had then spent an hour criticising his entire wardrobe and grooming habits, which in Brad’s eyes were nil, he’d been convinced his ears were bleeding with the telling-off he’d gotten from the tiny spitfire.
Shifting from foot to foot on the stairs, Aaden spotted the men’s toilet at the top of the flight of stairs. Not overthinking it, he ran up the last few stairs, opened the door, and checked if they had a mirror. Fist-pumping the air, he closed the door behind him, blaming Brad for his new-found worry about his appearance.
He gave his reflection a quick glance. His dark multitoned hair shone under the light. He ran his fingers through the wind-ruffled strands, pushing it away from his glowing cheeks. Pausing, he raised his hand to his mouth. “Who the hell is this grinning fool?”
Watching his smile deepen causing his dark eyes to gleam like polished onyx, Aaden couldn’t stop his grin from spreading wider.
“Me.”
Where had the hard-faced, miserable sod gone?
Laughing at his own antics, he turned his back to the mirror, checking himself out.
Yep, I still got it.
Weeks of only doing menial work and no proper workouts had a moment of doubt try to push through his confidence. He pushed it aside as he opened his jacket and tugged out his shirt to look at his rock-hard abs.
Greg didn’t seem to have any issues with my body yesterday, so why the hell are you standing in the bathroom like a dork checking yourself out?
“Who the fuck knows, Aaden? Get your arse up those stairs and go claim your man.”
Max’s angry retort had him hunching into his coat as he quickly tucked his shirt back into his jeans.
“Mind your own bloody business. I told you to butt out, Max, and leave this to me. You’re already in my bad books.” Aaden purposefully shut out the loud hissing as he pulled open the door, going up the last few stairs.
He’d spent considerable time last evening hashing out his concerns with an apologetic Max after Greg had left. He did kinda see where he was coming from, but Max had hurt his feelings, and yeah, he got the whole fates thing, but had he really needed to deceive him about carrying Magnus’s soul?
Slipping the worries to the back of his mind for now, Aaden poked his head around the door when he saw the sign for the studio. Looking to his right, he could see several piles of outdoor clothing scattered on long wooden benches, around a brightly lit, large square room. Cream walls displayed several pieces of carved wood with what seemed to be different captions on them.
Aaden stepped into the heated room, opening his jacket as he took a closer look. Movement to his left had him turning. He stilled, surprised to see several large glass windows showing a large group of about fifteen people, all bent at funny angles. Not really a fan of yoga, he didn’t get why people wanted to twist their bodies into obscenely difficult postures.
A mix of men and women all faced towards the dark windows overlooking the street at the end of the studio, copying, he thought, the small sprite of a woman that was facing the group. Well, she would have been if she hadn’t been bent and twisted at a funny angle.
Stepping closer, he peered through the windows into the softly lit room, taking the opportunity to look for Greg while no one was paying him any attention. Not seeing his shiny red hair immediately, Aaden started to doubt whether he had the right place. He searched again as people unfolded. It took a second to see Greg tucked in the corner by the back wall, next to a small dark-haired woman in bright green pants and a black-fitted vest.
His attention was so focused on Greg it took a second to notice the large mirrors spread along the side wall next to Greg. Aaden calculated that if he moved a few steps closer to the window, the mirrors would help him get a better view.
Aaden halted, his mind getting fully on board with the concept of yoga.
His lips smacked together as Greg bent in half, his multicoloured board shorts riding low, cupping his perfect bubble butt. Aaden let out a loud exhale as one leg left the ground and Greg raised his foot to the ceiling. The soft cotton strained as it hugged his buttocks and pushed his genitals towards Aaden as if in invitation.
Aaden, unaware, moved until his nose hit the cold glass, his breath creating a fog in front of his face. Hastily Aaden pulled back, hoping no one had caught him with his nose pressed to the glass. Heat spread up his neck as he fanned his face.
Unable to resist, he moved closer again. His jeans tightened with the possibilities as he watched Greg, fascinated by each move he made. His long, lithe limbs gleamed in the soft candlelight as he flowed from one pose to the next. His exposed damp skin had Aaden’s mouth watering at the thoughts of tasting all that succulent, naked, sweaty skin. Never more grateful that the glass wall stopped at his waist, he slipped his hand down to readjust his growing problem.
Aaden bit his lip to stop the moan from escaping, seeing everyone lay down on their mats. He decided to move away from the glass, not wanting to get caught in a state of arousal. His obvious erection was not something he wanted to explain to Greg, well, not in public. His mind, on the other hand, raced with the possibilities of how flexible Greg was and if he could persuade him to do some of the postures naked and in Aaden’s queen-size bed. He let out a low rumble, adjusting himself again when his overactive imagination had him hardening further.
Walking away to the darkened window on the other side of the room, he peered out into the inky night. The promenade, he was su
rprised to note, was lit up like Blackpool Illuminations. The lights were hung the full length of the promenade. Multicolours twinkled under the reflections of the hotel and car lights as they caught the illuminations. The Christmassy picture it formed pulled him up short. He has been so lost in the house renovations he’s forgotten how close it was to Christmas.
Oh dear Christ, do I need to buy Greg a gift?
He shook his head. His heart rate kicked into gear at the horror of having to go shopping. It had never been a consideration before. He usually sent money to his family, and never having had a boyfriend at this time of year, it had been a non-issue in the past.
He’d always been deployed at or before Christmas, so Christmas as a whole had stopped being important years ago. He attempted to recall the last Christmas he spent with family. As he chewed on his lip, he failed to recollect the last time he’d enjoyed or participated in any of the festivities. His brows drew together.
What the fuck!
Aaden gripped the window ledge, realising how much the army had taken from him. Never once had he complained about his deployments. Never once, it would seem, had they considered he was always the one chosen to lead the missions at Christmastime. Was it because he was single and never offered up a complaint?
How did I get to be thirty-four and have no life?
His brows drew together.
He considered whether this year would be different with Nick’s planned visit at the weekend. Shit, that meant Brody would be arriving on Sunday. Thoughts of Christmas faded when the reality of his situation hit like a ton of bricks.
Crap, crap, crap.
Why he’d thought this was a good idea to have them both come at the same time, he’d never know. It was going to be bad enough trying to persuade Nick to stay and create him the perfect bespoke kitchen. Never mind getting him to stay in the same place as Brody. Nick’s ongoing drama with Brody, if they got in the same room together for more than five minutes, had him wanting to tear his hair out. Brody was his lifelong friend, and he wanted to visit him, it was just unfortunate timing all-round. But he didn’t want to put Nick off. He really wanted him to make his kitchen, and Brody hadn’t been able to take any leave from work until now.
Knowing he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, he let out a heartfelt sigh.
Aaden busied his mind with the rough drafts he’d brought of his kitchen for Greg to look at tonight. He so didn’t want to think about how important it was for Greg to have input into his home or how much influence he’d already had in turning it into a home.
Christ, they hadn’t even had a proper date, and sucking cock didn’t count, did it? No, it was far too early to be thinking about next steps.
“How can it be too soon? Hell, you have wanted this for years for Odin’s sake. How the hell can’t you just accept it?”
Max’s grumpy shout made his ears ring.
Gripping his head, Aaden growled back. “Stop reading my thoughts. Back the fuck off, Max. My time, my place, not yours, not fates, not some bloody ancient Viking’s spirit or his beloved, but my choice, remember? We discussed this. Unless you want to find yourself another charge, then I would make like zippy and zip up.”
His angry retort was met with a loud harrumph when he felt Max slip out of his mind.
A second later he heard the door open behind him. Whirling round, he watched several sweaty chatting females halt at the sight of him. The noise level dropped as their eyes all grew to the size of saucers as they got a good look at him. He realised he was probably glowering. Well, that and his sheer size, he supposed, could scare anyone.
Aaden attempted to give them a reassuring smile.
Oh crap.
He thought he might have overdone it when a few of the women started to flutter their eyelashes at him, offering simpering smiles. When one woman made a blatant show of stripping off her sweaty top, revealing a small black bra top that hardly contained the two watermelons trying to escape, Aaden felt the panic build at the back of his throat as he struggled to swallow. His panicked dark eyes searched the open studio doorway, praying to God Greg would appear and save him from a fate worse than death, naked women’s bits.
Aaden’s shoulders sagged in relief, and his face split into a massive grin as Greg strolled out, only to drop to the floor as Greg hugged the attractive, small dark-haired woman who had been beside him in the class to him. Then he dropped a kiss on her laughing, upturned lips.
Aaden struggled to stop his fists from clenching. Without thinking, he stalked forward, his hands balled tightly at his sides. He grabbed at Greg. His startled sky-blue eyes stared up at him in confusion before he slammed their mouths together.
Molten anger surged through him, igniting his body. The excitement that had been building all day escaped. Mixing with the anger, it swirled through Aaden as he unleashed his jealousy and frustration on Greg’s mouth.
His lips demanded Greg to respond. He only backed off a little when Greg moaned and opened up for him. Swiping his tongue across the softness of Greg’s plumping lips, he slowly slid his tongue into his mouth, seeking his unique taste. The scent of lemongrass lingered around Greg, but this time it was combined with a slight musky odour that had Aaden growling as it invaded his senses. It took away all rational thought as he showed Greg and anyone who cared to look, who he belonged to.
Aaden could barely remember his own name when Greg’s hot bare skin plastered itself against his clothing as if willing them to disappear under the intense heat.
Gemma stood transfixed, her head tilted back, her gaze moving up the man mountain in front of her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the giant hunk of gorgeousness now plastered to her best friend. His face was hidden by the glorious mane of hair falling forward, but what she had glimpsed before he’d hauled Greg to him was stunning. Sweeping dark lashes sat on sharp cheekbones; lush lips sat in a solid square jaw.
She licked her dry lips when large leather-encased biceps bunched as they lifted Greg closer to what she could only assume was a rock-hard body. Legs encased in dark jeans seemed endless as they met an arse that she was sure she could eat her dinner off of.
No bloody wonder Greg has gotten himself in a pickle over this guy.
Shitting hell, I wish I was a guy.
“Err, hello. Can you hear me?”
Gemma giggled when neither man seemed to listen.
Tugging on Greg’s damp top, Gemma gave the other people in the room an apologetic smile when neither man seemed to care that they were practically humping each other with an avid audience. Gemma’s smile spread when all she witnessed was open curiosity. Maggie’s face, on the other hand, heated. A flush crawled up her face, her eyes riveted in what seemed to be lusty fascination.
Gemma raised her voice as her eyes continued to devour the man holding Greg captive, hoping it would gain their attention.
But hell, who could tell if the giant can hear me when I’m all the way down here.
“Come on, you two. There is a time and a place for making out, and a yoga studio is not it.” Her hissed words had no effect, and she rolled her eyes heavenward.
God help me.
“Leave them be. This is the most action and entertainment I’ve seen in years.”
Maggie burst out before slamming her hand over her mouth.
Gemma howled, realising she’d been spot on with her assessment.
Aaden froze, listening to a woman shout out for them to be left alone. Groaning into Greg’s mouth, he took one final taste before slowly pulling back. His bruised ego from early was only too happy to see Greg chase after him as his body stayed stuck to Aaden’s.
Aaden bent, letting his hot breath ghost out when he whispered in Greg’s ear. “Not here, my red beauty. We need to wait for a little more privacy. Not that I’m not adverse to an audience, but I’d prefer men to women watching me work you over.” His husky words had a red stain slide high across Greg’s cheekbones. He could see the minute Greg’s lust-dazed, sky-blue eyes starte
d to clear, and he remembered where he was.
Greg’s bright red hair fell over his face as his head ducked down, Aaden was sorry for embarrassing him. That was, until Greg jumped away from him as if he’d been burnt. Aaden gave a silent sigh of displeasure when Greg flounced over to a pile of clothing in the corner, grabbing everything in front of him. He never gave Aaden so much as a flicker of acknowledgement as he went into the small empty cubicle.
The curtain swished closed, cutting off Aaden’s view of Greg’s grimacing face.
Aaden faced several fervent looks, uncaring. He looked down at the cheeky imp that had come to stand next to him.
A tiny hand thrust up at him.
“Hi, I’m Gemma. Greg’s bestie, and you must be Aaden, the jolly green giant. It’s nice to meet you, though I think you might want to reconsider your public greeting in future. Humping someone in public is frowned upon here.”
Her laughing words were followed by a cheeky smirk as mirth lit up her green eyes. Aaden felt his lips twitch with the urge to join in with her humour. Giving in, he let loose a loud laugh, shaking her hand gently.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Bending down, he whispered in her ear. “But if you ever lay your lips on his again you might find out just how green I get.” Pulling back, he gave her a big shit-eating grin when her face paled and she yanked her hand free of his.
Her brows rose, disappearing under her damp fringe. Uncertainty crossed over her face as she seemed to consider if he was being serious.
“Yep, I’m serious. He’s mine.” Aaden’s quiet words received a nod of acknowledgement, and a light of appreciation filled Gemma’s eyes.
“Understood, but remember the bigger you are, the harder you fall. If you fuck with him, I’m going to rip you a new arsehole.”
Aaden choked back the laughter as she sailed over to the side and started ferreting in an oversized flowery bag. Only then did he notice the room had gone deathly quiet and people were avoiding all eye contact with him and Gemma.