Sunday Story – Our Own Way

Once again FB ditched this as spam so here’s this week’s story – a certain secondary character began nudging me for page time, but I’m not writing him a book, so I gave him a little space here to play.

 

Our Own Way

 

The clear high C from Brody’s flute pierced the stillness of the auditorium as ten thousand fans held their breaths and leaned into the plaintive ending of “Fathoms Deep.”

He drew the note out till he felt a waver threatening, then cut it off cold. Tanisha struck her base drum, one deep boom. And they were done.

The applause rolled over them, fans shouting, screaming, stomping, calling for more. Most nights, Brody would’ve gladly given them as many encores as they wanted but tonight… he blew out a silent sigh as Jamie and Val stepped back from their mics, waving but not taking up the demand for a fourth song.

Yes. Fuck yes. Done.

Brody usually took care of his own instruments, but tonight he shoved his flute into the tech’s hands as soon as he cleared the wings of the stage. “Get the rest of my stuff too, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Ed grinned at him. “Hot date?”

“Yep.”

“How many women this time?“

Not a one. Brody grinned back, though. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The cabbie who pulled up at the stadium’s back gate for him either didn’t follow popular music or didn’t recognize Brody with his hair soaked flat from the sudden downpour. Fine with Brody who much preferred a grumpy, “There’s a towel you can sit on. Don’t soak the seat,” over “OMG Brody North!” It also meant he had no hesitation giving the correct address. Well, one door down. No need to be reckless.

The rain had slackened during the drive, so when he got out, only a faint mist haloed around the streetlights. He paid the fare plus a midrange tip in cash, nothing memorable, and waited for the taillights to disappear around the bend before turning to walk a hundred feet to Scott’s driveway. The row of solar lights that edged the drive gave plenty of light as he dodged a few puddles in the gravel. Reaching the porch, he glanced at his reflection in the glass set in the door and wished he wasn’t arriving soaked to the bone. He looked like the proverbial drowned rat.

Not that they hadn’t seen each other in every level of wet and disheveled already.

The doorbell’s chime was muffled by the heavy oak panel, and he couldn’t hear footsteps, but the door whipped open seconds later. Brody squelched inside and shoved it shut behind him, flipping the lock with practiced ease. “Hey, you.”

Scott grabbed Brody’s shoulders and pushed him back against the door for a kiss, then let go, laughing. “You’re soaked!”

“No kidding. Does that mean you won’t kiss me?”

“No way.” Scott cupped Brody’s face in both hands and stepped right into him, kissing him hard while plastering his warm dry body up against Brody’s cold, wet one.

Brody clamped his hands on Scott’s ass and pulled him in tighter. This was what he’d waited through the last three weeks of the tour for. Not just the lean body under his hands, but the feeling of slotting into a place that was just his, a welcome that waited only for him. Scott’s lips against his own were deeply familiar; the slide of his tongue and the taste of his mouth felt right. Scott wasn’t the best kisser Brody had ever been with, maybe not the hottest in the last year, even, but talent was no substitute for heart.

Brody tried to put as much of himself in the kiss as Scott did.

When they broke apart and he reluctantly dragged his hands from Scott’s ass, Scott smiled at him. “Good show tonight?”

“We killed it.”

“Still hate umbrellas, though?”

“I live in L.A. They’re like a mythical device.”

“Poor surfer boy.” Scott ran a hand over Brody’s head, squeezing a drop of water from his hair to trickle down beside his nose.

Brody shook his head, drawing a squawk from Scott as he raised a hand against the spray. “You’re the one who decided to move to a place that actually has water falling from the sky.”

“Oh yeah, my bad.” Scott stepped back. “We should just tell the federal government to move from DC to L.A. Solve that problem.”

Brody fell back on his public persona, grabbing at his damp crotch. “Got a different problem you can solve.”

Scott laughed. “Planning on it. In fact, why don’t I start by getting you out of those wet clothes?” He reached for Brody’s belt buckle.

“Here in the entry?” Brody’s voice turned hoarse.

“Keeps you from tracking water all through the house.”

“Good argument.” He watched Scott’s elegant hands as they unbuckled, unzipped, peeled down wet jeans and underwear, revealing Brody’s hips and thighs and rapidly rising dick.

“Take off your shirt. Then put your back to the door.”

The hint of command in Scott’s tone just did it for him, every time. Brody struggled the wet fabric over his head, cursing until he got free of the clinging T-shirt and dropped it off to the side. Obediently, he backed up a step, put his shoulders and ass and both palms to the cool wood of the door, and waited.

Scott looked him up and down in the dim hallway light, smiled, and slowly, eventually, went to his knees…

They wound up in the shower, both damp and sticky and a little shaky with the aftermath. Brody rinsed Scott’s spunk off his calf and smiled, surprised to feel his eyes misting up. Me, getting emotional about sex. It’s obviously been too long.

Scott, who was a couple of inches taller, stood behind Brody and worked shampoo into his unruly hair. The scent curled around Brody’s nose, a lavender and mint combo that he associated with Scott. He’d smelled it in a department store once, and had an instant hard-on. In the warm shower, he leaned back into Scott’s hands and closed his eyes.

“Tired?” Scott kissed Brody’s shoulder.

“Never too tired for you.” Although he thought he might be lying. A show like Corvus Rising had played tonight, a long car ride, and an amazing orgasm, threatened to knock him out. The luxurious warmth of the shower wasn’t helping either.

“Right. Such a ball of fire.” Scott nudged Brody into a half turn and kissed him on the temple beside his drooping eyelids. “Come on, let’s get you dried off. You can stay the night?”

“Absolutely.” They had a day off in DC, and while he’d heard Lane planning to drag Dax to all the landmarks they’d never seen, Brody had no plans to go farther than this house.

“Good.” Scott eased Brody out of the shower and wrapped him in a ridiculously large towel.

Brody rubbed his hair with one luxurious end, then wrapped the thing around him like an ample toga. “Where did you find this? Is there a place that sells terrycloth bed sheets?”

“You always complain my towels are too small. So I went looking.”

“Well, this one’s awesome. Not even my shins are getting cold.”

“You’re such a wimp about a little chill.”

“I’m a California boy. Sue me.”

Scott hugged him instead, rubbing his back through the towel. “Lots of other things I’d rather do with you, and to you. Let’s go to bed.”

They brushed their teeth side by side, wearing only towels. Brody kept catching different angles of them in the mirror— Scott’s white smile frothy with toothpaste against his fair skin and beach-boy blond handsomeness; his own towel drooping off one tanned shoulder that had less definition now than when the tour began; the curve of Scott’s spine above the royal blue terrycloth around his waist as he turned to open a drawer. The moment felt both domestic and precious, and the double vision was fucking with his breathing for no good reason. He spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and headed to the bedroom without a backward look.

They slid into the bed on “their” sides, pulling up the thick covers over their naked bodies, and it hit him that he possessed a side in this man’s bed. And liked it. Brody The Player North wasn’t chafing against this routine. He ducked his head to press a kiss to Scott’s shoulder. “Missed you.”

“Likewise. Although the video chats have been fun.”

“Yep.”

Scott rolled on his side to face him. “Sometime I’m going to have you tell me the story about the three nurses again while I’m close enough to touch you.” He ran a hand over Brody’s chest.

“They were smokin’,” he agreed. “Awesome ladies.”

Scott’s chuckle rolled out smokey and sweet like toffee. “That’s my man.”

Somehow, although Brody had been ready to crash in the shower, he was more awake now he was actually lying down. “You’re not getting much action, though.” Or not much you’re telling me about. He hoped that wasn’t the real reason for Scott’s silence. They’d agreed that open relationships were fine, were hot as hell, as long as they were honest with each other, and with the ladies they fucked. Hookups only. No entanglements, no hiding.

Scott sighed. “It’s hard. Yeah, I got elected as the wild one, the free spirit, but now I’m in office they don’t like me running around being ‘irresponsible.’ The DNC is pushing me to publicly date some nice woman, ideally marry her and get her pregnant before the next election.”

Shit. Two things Brody had no interest in giving Scott even if he could, even if he were the right gender and wouldn’t just make things worse for Scott’s image.

Before he could ask what he was going to do, Scott added, “Doesn’t matter. I could adopt twelve cute orphans and a Golden Retriever and I’m still going to lose my seat. If I run.”

“You won by over three percent and you’ve done good things—“

“Before redistricting, yeah. The legislature redrew the maps and squeezed all the liberal voters into one district, and it ain’t mine. I’m looking at a forty-two percent minority in my new district by the most generous estimate.”

“Seriously?” Brody didn’t follow politics as closely as he should, given what his… his Scott did for a living. He’d seen stories about new gerrymandering and groaned and swiped left. “That bad?”

“Will be. For whoever they put up to run in my place.”

“In your—? Aren’t you going to fight it?”

Scott’s shoulders shook with the force of his sigh. “What’s the point? Maybe they can find some candidate who can pick up enough undecided votes to have a shot. That’s never going to be left wing wacky bisexual me, not in the current climate.”

“You’re not out as bi.”

“But I could be outed at any time. We don’t do other guys now, but I have in the past. And I want to do some good, which isn’t happening in DC these days.” In the dim room, the little baseball nightlight barely gave Brody the outlines of Scott’s face, but he thought he saw a shimmer in his eyes.

Brody reached over and clasped Scott’s shoulder, massaging with his fingers. “What will you do?”

“Well, that’s the good part.” Scott’s tone lightened. “But you must be totally beat. I figure we’ll have time for a real talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t leave me hanging like that.”

“Okay. I have two job offers, both with nonprofits. Either one could be fun and rewarding too. One’s here in DC, which would let me keep this house and everything familiar. Although it will be interesting to see how many of my so-called friends hang around once I’m not in the politics game anymore.”

“And the other?”

Scott hesitated a beat too long, before saying, “L.A.”

“Seriously? That’d be awesome.” The tension in Scott’s shoulder under Brody’s hand made him add, “Wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know. It’s a good position, a bit less pay but for an organization that works with abuse victims.”

Brody knew that meant a lot to Scott, whose mother didn’t leave her abusive husband till Scott was fourteen. So why doesn’t he sound thrilled? Doesn’t he want to live near me? Not that Brody was in L.A. for more than four or five months of the year, what with touring, but it would be a hell of a lot more together time than they got now. Too much, maybe?

He tried to sound cool and unaffected. “It’s good to have choices.”

“Yeah.” Scott wrapped his fingers around Brody’s wrist and pulled his hand off his shoulder and under the covers. Brody felt Scott’s fingers tracing the tendons in the back of his hand, up and down, up and down. He thought there was a tremor in that touch.

“Talk to me, Scott. We agreed when we started, this only works if we talk things out.”

“Mm.” Scott nodded, his blond hair mussing up against the pillow. “Right. Okay.” He blew out a breath. “So L.A. sounds good, in so many ways, but I’m afraid…“

“Of what?”

“It will change things, right? Has to. If I stay in DC than this, you and me, it keeps on working exactly the way it has for the last three years. We get together now and then and set the sheets on fire, and in between, we fuck pretty women and tell each other about it.“

Maybe I want to get together more than now and then? Not that Brody had anything against setting the sheets on fire, metaphorically, but he and Scott had felt like more than casual, for most of those three years.

While he was figuring out how to say so, Scott wrinkled his classically straight nose. “No, that’s not right either. Thing is… if we’re in the same city, it makes sense to live together, right? Except what will that do to our dynamic? Would you want us to stop seeing other people? Do we do the mature, responsible thing, to become monogamous? Or at least more mono—“

Brody leaned over and kissed Scott to shut him up. “How much have those DNC people been pressuring you? I can’t believe I’m hearing the words ‘mature and responsible and monogamous’ come out of your mouth.”

“Fuck you. I’m thirty-nine. I’m supposed to grow up sometime.”

“I’m thirty-seven, and yeah, sure. But grow up to become ourselves, not someone we don’t recognize.” A chill ran down his back. “Do you, your own self, think monogamy‘s the goal real grownups should aim for?”

“No! Maybe?” Brody saw the flicker as Scott blinked hard. “I love spending time with you. I miss you when you’re not around. Lately my life is a bit of a shitshow and FaceTiming with you is the highlight of my nights, so why shouldn’t I want to be exclusive with you, if we’re finally on the same side of the continent?”

“It’s not about should. Do you?” Brody held his breath. He’d never planned to be monogamous with anyone, didn’t think he was cut out for it, but if Scott wanted it… Would I try, if he asked me?

“No,” Scott finally whispered.

Brody let his breath out in a whoosh. “Me neither.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want to lose you. I’d give up the ladies and the fun, if it meant not losing you.” He realized that was the truth. I would. “But I like what we do. I love taking some pretty woman to bed and blowing each others’ minds, and then I like jerking off over FaceTime while I tell you all about her.” He forced a chuckle. “My dirty talk‘s a hell of a lot better when I have real action to describe.”

“I like what we do too.” Scott tugged at Brody, turning him until they were spooning with Brody’s back to Scott’s chest.

Brody missed being able to see Scott’s expression, but he had no problem with being held in a pair of strong arms. “I don’t see why you moving to LA would have to change that. I’d maybe get to tell you more of my bedtime stories in person. That wouldn’t be bad.”

“No. Not bad at all.” Scott brushed a kiss against Brody’s ear. “You think we could make it work?”

“I’m sure of it. Hell, Jamie and Val live in the same house, and they still sometimes fuck other people.” Mostly threesomes, these days, but he knew Val sometimes went dancing without Jamie and he’d bet she didn’t end the night on the dance floor.

“You said Lane and Dax are monogamous, though. You said you envied them.“

“They’re happy as, you know, whatever kind of wildlife it is that mates for life? Swans, maybe?” He’d have to look it up. “At the time, I kind of envied the simplicity. I mean, yeah, their whole Richard and coming out part was a circus I wouldn’t wish on my worse enemy, but once it was done, there they were. Together. Forever.“

“As a tight pair.”

“Except I realized I don’t actually want to be that simple.” He laughed. “Folks think I am. Brody, the laid-back wind player who loves all the single ladies. There’s this whole layer of me they don’t get to see, and I’m kind of into that.”

Scott tugged him closer. “So you wouldn’t want to come out?”

“I don’t know. Not right away. You? Once your term is over and you’re just boring Scott Foreman, ordinary citizen?”

“Not sure. We’d give bi people a bad name, probably. Affirm the stereotype.”

“Fuck the stereotype. If we want to come out, no one gets to say we’re a bad influence.” Brody had a moment of hesitation, thinking of Corvus Rising’s image. But hell, their audience had weathered Val and Jamie’s plus ones, and the Lane video, so by now anyone who’d stuck with them probably wouldn’t care if Brody added a man to his conquests. Or his heart.

Scott said, “I like being secret, though. For now. It’s hot, knowing I see a side of you no one else gets to see.”

Brody pulled one of Scott’s hands up from his chest so he could kiss it. “I love the way you think.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“That there is.” Fatigue began creeping up on him, making his eyelids heavy and his tongue feel thick. “Move to L.A.,” he murmured. “We can spend a lot more time together without changing who we are.”

“I’d like that.” Scott kissed the skin under Brody’s ear.

Brody snuggled up Scott’s hand like a teddy bear, tucking it under his chin. “Do good, do me, do all the single ladies.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“If we want something else, there’s always tomorrow.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Y’r so smart.” He battled the slur that wanted to become pronounced. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Scott’s kiss landed on Brody’s hair.

“And we have all day together t’morrow. I’ll make up for crashing.”

“Nothing to make up.”

“I could tell you bedtime st’ry.” He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. “There were th’s three nurses, an’ their van had flat tire. They were on their way to a Corvus Rising concern— concert— an‘ pulled over when they saw a disabled car. No wait, I pulled ov’r…“

“Shh.” Scott tugged him closer, his now-soft dick against the small of Brody’s back. “Tell me in the morning when we can really enjoy it.”

Brody always craved the heat that flared between them but this was really nice too, being held by someone who meant a hell of a lot more than just fun between the sheets. The women he fucked sometimes slept over and he liked the human connection, but being with Scott was a whole different thing. “Sorry I’m too beat.”

“No sorries. I missed you. And tomorrow I’ll fuck you properly.” Scott nuzzled against his shoulder. “I like when you smell of my body wash. Now sleep.”

A lot of people wouldn’t understand how he and Scott worked. Lane would probably stare with those big eyes and ask if he didn’t want to be exclusive and come out, and have a real life with his boyfriend. Jamie would laugh and ask if he didn’t want to be open and come out… Maybe Dax would understand.

We work. This works. And if Scott did move to L.A., it’d work even better. Brody sighed and nestled his face into Scott’s silky bamboo pillowcase, tugging Scott’s arm closer around him. We can be whoever we want, however we want. We’ll work it out together. It’s no one’s business but ours. He dipped his head enough to brush his lips over the strong male knuckles pressed against his shoulder. I love him and he loves me, in our own ways. And there’s always tomorrow. Brody took that thought and the comfort of Scott’s strong arms with him down into sleep.

 

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