by J P Sayle
“Well, someone had to help get that crap off my…”
Aaden held up his hand, stopping him. “Are you telling me it looked worse than this?” Aaden pointed to his chest, which was particularly bad.
Greg gave a mournful sigh.
He pointed to his phone sitting on the far side of the bed where he’d laid it last night. “If you’re feeling brave, you can have a look. But I warn you. You aren’t getting your key back.”
Aaden’s eyes widened. His brows shot up under his hair right before a deep furrow appeared between his eyes. He laid his forehead against Greg’s. “God help me.”
Greg giggled when all Aaden did was kiss him instead of reaching for the phone. He allowed himself to get lost in the kiss.
Greg growled in disappointment when someone pounded at the bedroom door. “If we stay quiet, maybe they’ll go away,” he whispered.
“Get your lazy backsides out of bed. Come on. I made a big Christmas breakfast for us all on the poxy two-ringed cooker. So the least you can do is come and eat it.”
Brody’s husky voice filtered through the door, causing Aaden to roll off him and Greg to grumble when Aaden pulled on his navy sweatpants and grey T-shirt.
Aaden shouted back that they’d be there in five as he urged Greg out of the warm nest of their bed. He turned his back as Greg wiped at the dried cum on his arse, stomach, and legs. Aaden choked back a chuckle when Greg muttered about ingrates. He watched Greg’s flexing backside sway as he walked to the wardrobes. Not needing anymore temptation, Aaden left the room.
He knocked on Nick’s door before turning the handle. Surprised when he found it locked. He knocked harder. “Nick. Nick, you all right in there?”
He waited, listening for any signs of life.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Nick stumble to the door, unlocking it. The unruly bed hair and dark circles under his eyes had him step closer, peering down at him. “What’s up, bro?” As he spoke, he registered Nick’s lack of crutches and orthopedic boot.
“Fuck, Nick. What are you trying to do?” He lifted Nick up without thinking, stalking back into his tip of a bedroom. He saw the discarded boot and crutches lying on the floor.
He dumped Nick onto the unmade bed and stalked towards the crutches. Aaden stilled when Nick’s sleepy voice penetrated past his concern.
“Christina fixed it. See, it’s as good as new.”
Aaden was too busy focusing on Nick that he missed when Brody walked through the open door, just in time to hear Nick and watch him bounce on his clearly unbroken foot.
Aaden caught sight of Brody. He cursed silently at the flabbergasted expression on Brody’s face. Aaden’s hand moved to his stomach when it clenched.
Aaden did what he always did when a situation like this arose. He shouted for Max. He wanted to sigh out loud, knowing this was not going to be good for any of them.
How the fucking, shitting hell am I going to explain this one?
When Greg charged into the bedroom, Aaden sent him an apologetic look. He realised too late he must have shouted more loudly than he’d thought if the glower Greg threw at him was anything to go by.
Everyone seemed to halt at once when Brody broke the silence.
“What the fuck is going on here? Can someone explain to me who Christina is and how the hell she can fix broken bones?” The softly spoken questions were laced with steel as Brody stood tall, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes before he finally landed his flinty glare on Aaden.
Aaden gave him a “not now” look when he saw Nick’s panic start to take over. His small chest heaved as he struggled to draw in a breath. Aaden went to move, but Brody beat him to it. Aaden felt his brow furrow. This was the second time he’d had to contend with Brody fighting to take over where Nick was concerned.
Aaden chewed his lip, giving both men his full attention. He’d never considered using his gift on either man before, seeing it as a breach of trust. Yet sensing the tension now filling the room, he was tempted. The warm hand on his arm had him look at Greg, who shook his head. The internal “don’t you dare” had him move his gaze back to the bed, where Brody clasped Nick in his lap, not letting him escape. Not that Nick was fighting him.
Feeling uneasy at the sudden shift in his best friend’s and brother’s relationship, Aaden took comfort from Greg’s reassuring grip. “Brody, let Nick go.” His harsh command was met with an arched brow.
“No. Not until I get some answers from squirt. Go down and eat the breakfast I’ve made. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
The plea in Brody’s voice and eyes had Aaden stepping back when Nick lowered his head in defeat.
Aaden hesitated.
“It’s okay, Aaden. Go. I’ll be fine. I won’t let out any secrets.”
Brody’s head shot round to pin Aaden with a hostile glare. Aaden held up his hands when it looked as if Brody was going to drop Nick and pick a fight with him. Needing to calm the situation that seemed to be getting more out of hand, Aaden spoke up, “Listen, we’ll all go down for breakfast. Brody, you know there is something different about me. Well, if you stop glowering and looking like you want to rip my head off, I’ll explain. Just leave Nick to get dressed, and he’ll follow us downstairs.”
When it looked like Brody was going to argue, Nick placed his hand on Brody’s rigid arm. “I’ll be down in five minutes. Let me sort myself out. Then we’ll all explain what you’ve got mixed up with.”
The resignation in Nick’s voice had Aaden worry his lip. He followed the others downstairs, but not before he caught the defeated look that swam into Nick’s watery eyes.
He stomped downstairs. The noise made him feel slightly better. He shouted again for Max, only to have Greg shout back for him to stop shouting. He searched the house when he couldn’t find Max in the kitchen.
He growled as he walked back into the kitchen.
Where the fuck has he got to?
Aaden grabbed his mobile from the kitchen worktop and rang Brad. When Brad explained he couldn’t find Princess either, Aaden relaxed. “I bet the pair of them are off doing… stuff. Stuff I don’t want to even think about.” He felt reassured when Brad seemed to laugh at his worry. The request to come earlier at two pm for lunch had him grinning when his stomach gurgled at the thoughts of Brad’s planned meal. Ending the call, Aaden sent out a silent prayer their cats would be hungry enough to return for some food and soon.
Aaden chuckled at the thought of Max missing a meal.
His laughter died when Nick stepped into the kitchen without the hint of even a limp.
Show and tell. I’m so looking forward to this. Not.
Christmas Day
Brad & Martin
Brad swiped at his phone to end the call and tucked it into his back pocket of his Levi 501 jeans. Distractedly, he surveyed all the food spread out over the worktops. The scent of roasting turkey filled the kitchen but barely registered past the turbulent thoughts rolling around in his head.
He wasn’t as confident that Princess and Max were off doing “stuff” as Aaden put it. He wrung his hands, not sure how to voice his concern to Martin about what was happening with their cats and the ruddy witchy poo.
No longer preoccupied with thoughts of sex and last night, Brad had a feeling the other shoe was about to drop. He scratched the back of his neck when the feeling he’d missed something important wouldn’t let go. The fact that he hadn’t physically laid eyes on Princess in more than twenty-four hours had his pulse leading a merry dance along his veins and added to the misery that was his knotted stomach.
Again, his gaze landed on the food, but this time he wondered how he was going to be able to eat anything at all.
“Hey, baby. What’s put that frown on your gorgeous face this wonderful Christmas morning?” Martin’s voice was muffled as he buried his mouth into Brad’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin below his ear.
Martin felt the tension radiating from Brad’s rigid muscles. Not sure what was worrying Br
ad, Martin folded him into his arms. Holding him tight, Martin breathed in the sweet scent of cherries as Brad relaxed against him, laying his head into the crook of Martin’s neck.
“Princess. Who else?”
Martin tensed, sensing Brad’s sadness as he continued to talk.
“Aaden rang. It would seem that Max is missing, along with Princess. Only he thinks they’re up to no good. Or doing ‘stuff,’ as Aaden calls it.” Brad chuckled. “I think he means Percy filth, but hey, if he doesn’t want to think about his cat getting his rocks off, who am I to blame him when I don’t want to think about my Princess getting down and dirty with Max.”
Brad shuddered against Martin, drawing attention to how close they were. Martin shifted his hips back a little. He sensed Brad wasn’t up for another round of blistering sex this morning. Hell, Brad’s arse had to be sore after what they’d got up to when they’d finally got home last night.
Martin cursed his wayward thoughts. He willed his body to behave, forcing himself to focus on Brad’s anxious face. “Have you tried to call for Princess, like Aaden and Greg do? I know you’ve never really had that kind of relationship with Princess.” Martin had to stop talking when Brad’s lower lip poked out in a sulky pout. Martin counted to ten, hoping it would hold the laughter at bay. He knew his eyes were giving him away when Brad scowled up at him.
“Go on. Laugh. I know you want to. But it’s totally not fair that Aaden and Greg get to talk telepathically with Max. I calculated that I’ve had Princess longer than Aaden has been with Max. It’s so not fair that he can talk to his cat.” Brad huffed, blowing the curls on his forehead out of his eyes.
Stomping his foot, Brad barely missed Martin’s bare one.
He knew he was acting childishly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He pulled away from Martin and stalked back to the kitchen counters. Brad fiddled with the vegetables. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried that last night and again this morning? If she can hear me, then she is ignoring me. I have a bad feeling, Martin, that she knows about miss witchy poo’s offer to Max. And I also think she knows I know about it. That she is punishing me for not telling her.” His shoulders sagged under the weight of the secrets he’d kept from Princess.
Brad heard the thud before he realised he’d thrown the carrot he’d been holding at the wall.
“Hey, we’ll have less of that. I don’t have time to paint the walls if you decide to decorate them with food.”
The concern in Martin’s voice had Brad drop the cabbage he’d held in his other hand. Martin was right. They didn’t have time for this or for his moping. Not if he wanted to make a Christmas meal for eight people.
Brad sighed.
Dragging his hair away from his face, he pulled the elastic band on his wrist off, tying his hair into a man bun. Brad viewed the kitchen and calculated what was left to do. He was pleased he’d taken the time last evening to tidy up and move back the furniture. The Christmas decorations were still in place from the party, giving the room a festive feel. All that was needed was the table to be set. He batted his eyelashes at Martin, making sure to flash his dimples, even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
“I know your game.” Martin held up his hands as he spoke. “Okay, you win. What do you want me to do?”
The humour in his voice had Brad’s smile turn genuine. “If you start on setting the table, I’ll do the veg. Oh, and the plan of how it should look is in the top drawer of the cabinet over there. And can you put on some cheerful music. I need it.”
Brad pointed to the drawers next to the kitchen sink before he got to work peeling vegetables. The sounds of classic Christmas tunes filled the kitchen.
The mood lightened when Martin started to sing along with Slade. Brad had a moment of regret that Sarah wasn’t there to share this with him. Her friend had offered her a last-minute cancellation to a ski resort. As Sarah had spent months trying to get a booking, they’d both encouraged her to accept. They didn’t blame her for wanting to go away with friends, but he knew she’d be sorry to have missed her brother’s dancing and singing.
Brad chuckled watching Martin.
The tight black jeans and bright red jumper fitted his frame flawlessly. They showed off his assets to perfection when Martin shimmied around the kitchen. His dark hair glowed under the soft sunlight pouring in behind him as he sang out of tune. The happiness evident in the sparkling depth of his azure eyes as they landed on Brad. The flirty wink had his lips twitch into a returning smile.
Brad got quickly back to work, his throat working hard to swallow the tears that had him sniffing. He may be upset because Princess wasn’t here, but it didn’t detract from the ball of emotions that sat in his chest. The weight so comfortable it was almost as if Martin had laid his own heart on top of Brad’s. He could almost feel the beat match his. Their love mingled and twined together, leaving him tethered in a way that no words could express.
He rubbed his misty eyes with the back of his hand, thanking whatever God there was for Martin. He rethought that when he considered his new-found friendships.
No, I’m grateful for all of it. Heck, how could I not be after last night!
Brad shifted his feet, jiggling his hips, hoping the swelling in his trousers would stop. He pushed the thoughts away that wanted to crowd his mind, forcing himself to continue to prep the food in front of him.
Brad got lost in the comfort of his kitchen, running from one task to another, making sure everything was perfect.
Checking the time, he hurried into the lounge and surveyed the room. He’d asked them all to come at two pm, and it was close to that now. He let the warmth of the room cloak him. Martin had lit the fire a couple of hours earlier, so the room was nice and warm, ready for their friends.
The dark greyness that had replaced the earlier sunlight offered little to no light to the room. Brad frowned, licking his teeth. He scurried around, lighting the candles that offered the smell of Christmas. Though how anyone could say that the cinnamon fragrance was the fragrance of Christmas was beyond him. Surely, it was whatever scent that reminded you of the ones you loved?
At the sound of the doorbell, he shook off the questions he couldn’t find the answer for. He was glad he had something to distract him from his meandering thoughts.
Brad skipped in anticipation to the door. His excitement bubbled through him as he yanked the door open, smiling at the rosy cheeks and sparkling sky-blue eyes of Greg. Aaden, Brody, and Nick all stood behind Greg, holding plastic bags.
He grinned at them all, not at all bothered as the icy air blasted his flushed cheeks as he stepped towards Greg, relieving him of his bags. It was only then that Brad noticed the tension radiating off the men behind Greg. The lines around both Brody’s and Aaden’s mouths had him look towards Nick. The blank expression he wore had Brad chew on his bottom lip to stop the questions from pouring out.
Greg broke the silence as he pushed past Brad. “I’m starving, and the smell coming from your kitchen has my taste buds all but ready to beg.”
Brad listened to Greg waffle, but he never took his eyes off Nick. He raised his brow when Nick walked past with no crutches or limp.
Oh, you bugger.
Brad just about managed not to ask about the obvious elephant in the room when Aaden gave him a warning head shake. Brad knew it was too late when Martin walked down the stairs, staring at Nick.
“Shitting hell, what on earth happened to your leg?” Martin wanted to saw his tongue off or better yet retract the question he’d just asked when everyone froze at once. Not sure what he should do, Martin carried on walking down the stairs.
He went to the open door, closing out the wintry afternoon. He turned to Aaden, grabbing the bags he carried so he could do something to get everyone moving.
The chime of the door had him release his pent-up breath. He indicated to Aaden to let Joe and Stuart in as he herded everyone towards the lounge. Martin settled everyone, taking their drink requests as he hustled back into
the kitchen with Brad hot on his heels.
“What on earth is going on with that lot? I’m convinced you could cut the tension with a knife. Aaden gave me a warning glare to stop me from asking about Nick’s leg, but you asked before I had a chance to stop you. I’m sorry.” Brad’s whispered words had Martin cast a wary eye towards the empty doorway.
“It’s all right, baby. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But I’d bet my left testicle it’s probably got something to do with the witch. Hell, at this rate we’re going to end up in a remake of the Witches of Eastwick. Only it’ll be the Witches of the Isle of Man.”
Martin dropped the bags onto the floor. He got the drinks ready, placing them on the silver tray Brad produced. He gave Brad a quick kiss before he went back to the stove, playing with the bubbling pots.
Martin inhaled, bracing himself before he walked back into the lounge. He was relieved when the atmosphere wasn’t as tense. Greg’s constant chatter seemed to have lightened the mood.
Aaden and Brody were sitting on the two sage-green chairs pushed into the corner of the room on either side of the fireplace. They were dressed in nearly identical outfits. The grey trousers they wore were topped with soft cashmere jumpers, Aaden’s black, whereas Brody’s was a soft mint green. Martin stepped to each man offering a drink before he went to the large comfy sofa to give Nick, Greg, and Joe their drinks.
The three looked as thick as thieves as he watched Greg’s bright red head duck as he whispered something into Nick’s ear that had him grinning. He subsequently turned and whispered into Joe’s ear, getting the same response, a big arse grin.
The contrast of red hair, pale blond, and rich brown was striking. The three men, though so different in appearance, were all striking in their own way. Greg, though the taller of the three, didn’t appear bigger due to his willowy and lean body. Whereas Nick the smallest was broader, but his fine delicate features gave him an air of fragility that made him appear smaller.
Joe, on the other hand, sat somewhere in the middle between the two other men’s stature and height. The anorexic look Joe had sported when he’d arrived was long gone. It was only his chocolate eyes that offered up some of what had happened to him in the past. The fun playful light he’d been used to seeing for years had slowly returned under Stuart’s loving care.