Spring Fever Daddies

by Rayanna Jamison

  “A sex buffer?” Mitch asked incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I need to be equally important to the two of you as you are to each other. Because, right now, there is no way this could ever go where it needs to go for me to get what I need.”

  “Don’t raise your voice, little girl” Brody growled in warning. “There is zero reason for you to be yelling at us right now.”

  “Okay.” It was all I said as I lay back down, reclaiming my place between them. I was facing Brody still, with Mitch pressed against my back.

  “In order for this to work, you need to admit that you are in love with him.”

  Brody’s eyes widened for a minute, then his face went passive, and I caught him eyeing Mitch carefully.

  It didn’t matter. I turned on my side to face Mitch.

  “And you,” I said pointedly. “You need to do the same. But more importantly, you need to pull your head out of your ass and realize how goddamned blessed you are to have the family that you have behind you.” Mitch’s eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat in warning. I realized then that I had cussed, but I didn’t care. This was important. “I get that you are scared. I don’t get why, but I get that you are. But I also know with a hundred percent certainty that you are loved here. That nobody is going to give a rat’s behind how you choose to define your sexuality. That all they want is for you to know who you are and be happy with it. Look around you, Mitch. There isn’t a person here who is going to judge you. Every single one of them loves you exactly how you are, and if you just gave them a chance to prove it, I know that you would be blessed beyond belief. By continuing to hide who you truly are, you are doing yourself and them a grave disservice.”

  Brody reared up on one elbow now and was watching my speech with wide eyes, occasionally shaking his head and wincing. Mitch had his eyes closed tight, scrunched like if he closed them tight enough, he could block out the truth in my words and keep himself happily sequestered away in his closet of denial for another two decades.

  I sighed and fell back against the pillows. I didn’t even realize I had sat up to face them both at some point during my impassioned speech.

  “I could easily love you both, together,” I admitted, with a sleepy sigh. “We could make this work; I know we could. But not this way. I won’t be your beard.”

  They didn’t respond. I could hear their even breathing as they lay there processing my words. It was easy to imagine the inner struggle taking place in both their brains. They had lived this way for far too long.

  I was okay. I didn’t need an answer. I would wait—and watch—and eventually, I would have my answer.

  If they couldn’t own their issues and stand up, proving to me that there was a place for me between them, I would leave the ranch.

  Chapter 12

  Mitch

  Everything about April’s speech was breaking my heart. I could feel Brody watching me, and I knew he was worried. My eyes scrunched tight to stave off tears and memories and feelings that I had held locked inside for far too long.

  She stopped talking, and the room fell silent. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts. I opened one eye and peeked over at Brody. His arm was wrapped around April, and her face nuzzled into his chest. If they weren’t asleep, they would be soon.

  I was tired, too—exhausted, actually—but my heart was pounding in my chest, and the silence was closing in on me. I needed Brody, but so did she.

  And she was right. If I couldn’t come to terms with this which had been haunting me all my life, the three of us were doomed. But mostly me. I was the one with everything to lose. There was not a doubt in my mind that April and Brody could move on without me.

  I couldn’t live without them. I turned onto my side and looked into the darkness at them. Brody’s chest rose softly, then fell again. He was asleep. How many attacks of anxiety had he helped me through over the years? Too many to count. Closing my eyes, I focused on what he would say if he was awake.

  “Breathe, Mitch. You are okay. I’m right here. Look into my eyes, and just breathe.”

  The memory of his calm voice soothed me as it always did.

  “Tell me five things you can see.” He would do this every time. Run me through the steps. I could do it on my own now.

  I opened my eyes. “I see Brody. I see April. I see a window, a door, and Brody’s hat.”

  I drew a deep breath and felt the pressure in my chest begin to lessen. What would Brody ask next?

  “What are four things you can touch?” My hand flexed around the bedcovers. Blanket. I patted the sheet. Mattress. I ran my hand over my face. I needed to shave. Facial hair. Stretching, I found Brody’s hand and held it. “You.”

  He was always my last thing.

  “Three things you can hear.” His voice in my head was as clear as if he was really speaking.

  Lifting my head off the pillow, I forced myself to listen. It was the middle of the night, and everything was quiet. “I hear my heartbeat. I hear Brody breathing. I hear the wind.”

  Next, was smell. Could I smell anything? I rolled on my side, closer to them, and took a deep whiff. April’s hair smelled fresh, like lemon trees on a spring day. I breathed in deeply and then sniffed again. I smelled sex. Hot, sticky, satisfying sex.

  Almost done. Brody’s voice returned, ringing through the room as if it was real. “Good. Now, how do you feel?”

  This one was easy. There were so many emotions I could choose from—fear, panic, alarm, apprehension, but I always answered the same way.

  “Thankful.” I spoke the word out loud as if testing its truth. Yes, despite everything, despite the fact that April was a horrible meddler, and despite the fact that I was currently at risk to lose everything, no matter what I chose to do, I was thankful. Because I knew that the risks, if they paid off, would be worth it.

  Heaving a deep sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and succumbed to the exhaustion flooding my body.

  “I dare you to suck my dick.” I was fifteen, in my fifth foster home that year. My new foster brother, Jimmy, was my best friend.

  I’d never stayed in one place long enough to have a love interest of any sort, but I had also never really had a crush on anyone.

  Until Jimmy. Jimmy was everything I wanted to be. He was smart, funny, and confident. He did what he wanted and gave no fucks. He had a girlfriend, but he liked to make out with boys, too. The first time he kissed me, my world exploded.

  All of a sudden, everything, and nothing, made sense.

  But this was new. We were sitting alone in his truck after school, outside the house where we both lived. I was a foster child; he was not. I looked over and found that his jeans were unbuttoned, and his dick was out and fully erect. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. My lips parted, and I licked them involuntarily.

  Jimmy leaned over, cupped my cheek, and kissed me. I relaxed against him and allowed him to kiss me deeply, teasing my lips with his tongue before he forced it inside my throat.

  Oh hell. He tasted like cinnamon gum and tobacco. I pushed closer to him, undoing my seatbelt and scooting into the middle of the bench seat. Jimmy took my hand and guided it into his lap.

  Oh God. This was happening.

  And then I was flying through the air, hanging by the neck of my shirt, looking into the furious eyes of my foster father.

  “Dad! He forced himself on me! He wanted me to suck his dick!”

  “You fucking little faggot!”

  My mouth flew open in shock, just in time to register the fist flying towards me. I closed my eyes before the first blow landed.

  Brody

  I awoke with a start. What was that noise? I sat up in bed and looked around, trying to get my bearings, listening for it again.

  “No! I’m sorry!”

  Fuck. it was coming from beside me. Jerking my head towards Mitch, I saw that he was thrashing around in the bed, muttering to himself. Occasionally yelling out. That must have been what woke me. It
wasn’t the first time.

  Untangling my body from April’s, I quickly rose out of bed and crossed to Mitch’s side, kneeling on the floor.

  What could I do? It had been so long. I racked my brain and tried to remember. Finally, I took his face in my hands, one hand on each cheek, and stilled his thrashing body.

  Step one. Hands. See if he calms. The thrashing grew less frantic once I held his face in my hands.

  “Mitch,” I whispered softly. “Mitch, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up.”

  His eyelids fluttered, but his body continued to move restlessly. I patted the side of his face with one hand. “Mitchell, c’mon, wake up. You’re dreaming. You’re safe. It’s just me. It’s Brody. We’re here at the ranch. Wake up.”

  I continued to pat his face as I spoke. Finally, his eyes opened. He stared at me with a deer in the headlights look. I kept my hands firm and waited for him to get his bearings.

  His eyes locked on mine, and I knew the exact moment when he really saw me. I let my hands fall to my sides and helped him when he struggled into a sitting position.

  He took a deep breath and instantly deflated, collapsing against my chest.

  I rose to the edge of the bed and wrapped my arms tightly around him.

  “Can we go to our room?”

  “You got it.” I nodded and helped him stand. “Come on, let’s go. I got you.”

  Mitch

  I let Brody take care of me the way I always did. Because it was easy. Because I needed him. Because I loved it.

  The doubts and self-hatred over it were nothing new, especially after that dream.

  The voices in my head were screaming. That I was sick. Worthless. Unloved. Unlovable. My chest heaved with panic, but Brody recognized the signs, taking me through the same steps I had taken myself though earlier, nipping the attack in the bud before it gained momentum and grew into a full on panic attack.

  “Name one thing you feel,” he said, after running through all the rest of the questions.

  “Thankful,” I answered, lying down on the bed, smiling when Brody lay down beside me and pulled me into his arms. His hands locked on my biceps, then my wrists, and I knew he was checking my pulse to make sure I was calmed.

  I counted to thirty, then pushed his hands off me and grabbed his face, claiming his lips roughly. I needed him.

  He quickly rose to the occasion, matching my passion with his own. Our bodies melded together in a frenzy of warring emotions. Anger. Frustration. Need. Passion. Love.

  Brody

  I wrapped my fist tightly around a chunk of Mitch’s golden locks and pulled, closing my eyes as I spilled my load between the cheeks of his tight ass as he knelt on the bed in front of me.

  “God, how I’ve missed you,” I growled.

  “You have barely left my side in twenty years,” Mitch argued.

  “You know exactly what I mean!” I slapped his ass. “I’ve missed this.”

  Gripping his hips tightly, I thrust into him once more, making sure that every last drop of cum was deposited inside of him before I pulled out. “I miss us. I love domming you, Mitchell. I love the feeling I get when I spank your tight little ass and when you wrap your lips around my cock. And most of all, I love the way it feels when I plunge my dick inside this sweet little ass of yours.”

  “Yeah, well, try to keep a rein on those feelings when we’re around others, would you?”

  Exasperated, I spun him around to face me and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s been twenty years, Mitchell. What are you so afraid of? April is right, you know. Look around you. This place. These people. Your family. It’s not exactly a poster board for conventional relationships. Do you really think any of them would give a flying fuck? Do you think they care about anything other than seeing you happy? I’ve known them less than a week, and I already know the answer to that.”

  Mitch shrugged, his face set in a stubborn mask. “You know why it’s so hard, Brody. You’ve seen. You saw. It still happens.”

  Growling, I wrapped my fist around his cock. I couldn’t stop touching him, and I didn’t want to. “Yes, I’ve seen. Again and again. I have spent twenty years loving you and taking care of you through it. When are you going to let someone else in and give them a chance to do the same?”

  “It’s just not any of their business, Brody. It’s mine. Mine and yours. And that’s it.”

  “That excuse worked twenty years ago, Mitch. This is twenty eighteen. Gay marriage is legal, and love is love. Why are you so determined to hide who you are?”

  He glowered at me and turned, reaching for his discarded boxer shorts. “I’m not gay.”

  I shrugged. “Neither am I. Not in the least. But, what I am, is in love with you.”

  Mitch stared at me.

  I shrugged defiantly. I was out of fucks to give. “April is right. If she sees it, I’m sure everyone else does, too. I love you, Mitchell Waters. And I’m tired of hiding it. I’m thirty-seven-years old. I can’t live like this forever. And I don’t want to.”

  I had thought it for more than a decade now. But I never voiced it. The sentence hung in the air between us as we both stood there butt naked. Completely vulnerable.

  I hated this feeling. I’d done my best to avoid it for the better part of twenty years. But it was time. My cards were on the table, and there was no going back. There was only waiting to see how Mitch would react.

  His chest deflated as he exhaled, sinking to the bed, still clutching his jeans in his hand.

  “I love you, too, Brody. But I’m not sure where that leaves us. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I know in my heart that what we have will never be enough for me. And I don’t know if I can ever be comfortably out as much as I would need to be to keep you in my life.”

  It wasn’t a full rejection. My brain knew it. My heart was a different entity. At Mitchell’s words, my chest seized with pain. I had the sudden urge to double over as if somebody had just plunged a knife into my gut. I pulled my jeans on as quickly as I could and nodded at him before stumbling out of the room.

  He was okay. I knew that. And if he wasn’t, he knew where to find me. I made my way down the hall, back to April’s room, collapsing against the door after I shut it. Squinting into the darkness, I frowned. The bed was empty. Cocking my head, I listened for sounds coming from the bathroom and heard nothing. I sighed. Oh well, I needed to be alone, anyway.

  Exhaustion hit me hard, draining me as soon as I fell onto the bed. Groaning, I pulled the duvet over me, settled against the pillows that were still warm from where she had lain, and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me.

  Chapter 13

  April

  I woke in an empty bed and sat up with a start. When had they left and why? The clock read 3:32 AM.

  Squinting, I remembered giving an impassioned and anger fueled speech and then sacking out cold. Oh God. Had I upset them? Was Mitch okay? Had they decided I wasn’t worth the trouble I would cause? Were they just not looking for a relationship? Had I, indeed, been their beard?

  Well, shit. Now, I was up. Pulling on a soft pair of yoga pants and a tank top, I pulled my hair into a messy bun and tiptoed down the hall to the room they shared.

  I fully intended to give them a piece of my mind. Staring with, “You should have had the balls to tell me how you felt,” and ending with, “Fuck you both.”

  I didn’t really have a plan beyond that.

  Padding down the long hallway, I counted doors until I reached the third one on the left. Resting my hand on the doorknob, I drew a deep breath and got ready to blow in and give them the what for.

  And then I heard the low rumble of voices on the other side of the door. I couldn’t make out the words, but Brody’s distinct accent was unmistakable. Mitch’s low, soft baritone sounded off, like he was in distress and gasping for air. Freezing in place, I held my breath and listened.

  Soon, the voices stopped and the only thing I heard was the beating of my own heart. Then they starte
d again and were quickly replaced by the distinct sound of skin slapping skin. Were they fucking, or was Brody spanking Mitch?

  The anger I had felt upon waking up alone disappeared and was replaced by a calm peace that washed over me. And a deep yearning arousal. The slapping sound began anew, and I leaned closer to the door. Neither was speaking now, and I swore I heard a grunt of pain, but that meant nothing, either way.

  Thankfully, my hand was still clamped tightly over my mouth, and I was able to quell my scream when a long, thin finger reached from behind to tap me on the shoulder.

  I whirled and found myself staring into Nan’s knowing, wrinkled face.

  “Eavesdropping is very naughty,” she admonished with a smirk. “And I certainly wouldn’t want to get caught, if I were you. I can imagine those two would be none too pleased.”

  With a wink, she was off, leaning on her cane as she limped down the hall.

  I gaped at her retreating back. Shit. Had I just outed Mitch with my nosiness?

  My ass began to throb, sending me an urgent reminder of the wisdom behind Nan’s words. She was right. I did not want to find out what would happen if I got caught listening at their door. Abandoning my station, I scurried down the stairs to join Nan in the kitchen.

  She sat in the breakfast nook, sipping from a mug of coffee with the same knowing smirk still plastered on her face.

  I ignored it, feigning ignorance. “You’re up early.”

  “Insomnia is a bitch when you’re old.” She cleared her throat. “What about you? Or have you even been to bed yet?”

  “I slept. Some.” My face flushed as I replayed the evening’s activities in my brain.

  As was her style, Nan pointedly ignored my discomfort.

  “That Brody certainly is a character, isn’t he? I thoroughly enjoy giving him the what for and watching him squirm.” She squealed with delight. A girly squeal that belied her eighty some years.