Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Donovan

Parker pulled into my driveway, and I turned to look at him through my driver-side window. Every ethical bone in my body told me this was reckless, told me I shouldn’t risk it, shouldn’t risk losing my job at Winchester, possibly even at Lowe. What would Anders think? It was a stretch, and my brain tended to jump from zero to sixty, but what if we got caught, and there was some kind of scandal, would he fire me for bringing a bad reputation to the agency? Jesus, I’d jumped right into a worst-case scenario. WSC was a mediocre school, and Parker was an adult. Maybe in hindsight the word scandal was a bit overdramatic. Either way, it was definitely a good thing we’d agreed that it was best to have dinner at my place and not in public. At least not until we figured out boundaries, and how this thing between us would work.

On the way to my house, my ten-minute drive had been plagued with conflicting thoughts. I hadn’t given myself a chance to properly think about everything. His kiss, his touch had made me want to be impulsive, and the whole way home I’d hoped Parker hadn’t thought I expected anything from him. We needed to talk. Just talk,I told myself as thoughts of his hands in my hair, his hard body pressed against me, his confident lips claiming my mouth, invaded my brain. I’d never kissed like that before. Kissed like a fire consumed oxygen and it burned through me, scorching any misgivings I might’ve had about him, about us. He was twenty-four, and it wasn’t like I’d lured him unsuspectingly to my house with promises of good grades for sexual favors. This thing between us, this unlikely coincidence, it snuck up on us, or maybe it had been there all along, but it happened. Parker walked around the hood of his car, his shoulders loose, his confident blue eyes meeting mine as one of the most handsome smiles I’d ever seen broke across his face, and I shelved any remaining trepidation I had for the moment.

“Were you thinking again?” he asked as I stepped out of the car.

“It’s not a bad thing.” I shut the door and approached him. His grin even wider than before. “One of us has to have a clear head.”

“And I don’t?” he asked, reaching for my hand. He threaded his fingers through mine, and I nervously glanced around the cul-de-sac. It wasn’t like I spoke to my neighbors very often, or that they would even know who he was, but the fear was there. The guilt. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this… I can go. No questions asked.”

“No,” I said, refusing to succumb to my doubts. This wasn’t some forbidden thing. This wasn’t wrong. We were adults, the rest of it was semantics, shit I would have to figure out later. Not now. Not with the heat of his skin against mine. Not when my pulse shouted stay, stay, stay. “I want you here.”

He raised my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across my knuckles, sending a shivery heat over my skin. “Good because I’m hungry… and you did promise me food.”

“I did.”

Laughing, I invited him inside, and he released my hand as we walked up the small path to the front door. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the touch. His rough skin was different from Lanie’s. The callouses on his palm were satisfying in a way soft skin could never be. It scratched at something inside me, made me want to keep touching, keep feeling everything he had to offer.

Once we were inside, I dropped my keys on the sideboard table and flipped on the living room lights. “This is nice,” he said, running a hand over the back of the couch. “Remind me never to invite you to my shitty apartment again.”

“It can’t be any worse than the place I had in college.”

My comment was another reminder of our age difference. Nine years in the grand scheme of things wasn’t a big deal. Parker was obviously mature and had a plan for his life. But he was at the beginning of everything. The starting line. I was a divorced thirty-three-year-old with a kid he didn’t even know about yet. Not a very tempting prospect for a guy with his entire adult life ahead of him.

“Van,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re doing the thinking thing again.”

“It was nothing, just…” I huffed out a laugh. “Overthinking.”

“About?”

I walked past him and into the kitchen. Switching on the light, I avoided his eyes.

“We don’t know each other very well.”

“Isn’t that why you date someone, to get to know them. See if they’re worth pursuing?”

“Exactly,” I said, finally raising my gaze. His brows were pulled into a tight line. “What if they’re not worth it? Or there’s dealbreakers?”

“Like?”

“Answer the question.”

“Then, you move on.” He shrugged. “Not every date will end with a picket fence and a dog named Chuck.”

Smiling, I leaned against the kitchen counter. “A dog named Chuck. That’s very specific.”

“Maybe I’ve thought about it… what settling down would look like.” He moved toward me, or more like prowled, and my pulse took notice, sprinting as he placed his hands against the counter on either side of me. “My only dealbreaker… must love dogs.”

My eyes dipped to his mouth as my fingers found his waist.  He was solid, and I craved the heaviness of his weight. “What kind of dog?”

“An Irish setter.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “But that’s not the point, is it? You’re worth pursuing, Van. Even if you don’t think so.”

My lips parted on an exhale, and he took advantage of the moment, sliding his mouth over mine. He tasted like mint, and I wondered if maybe he’d chewed a piece of gum on his way here. It was sweet and tentative the way his tongue fell into a rhythm with mine. Too soon he pulled away, his gaze serious as he dragged his thumb across my bottom lip.

“This doesn’t have to be complicated. I want to know you, see where this goes.” His smile was quiet. “I’m not ready for Chuck yet.”

“I have a daughter. Is that a dealbreaker?”

“You have a daughter?” he asked, and I nodded once, waiting for him to put some distance between us. He didn’t move. “How old?”

“Ten.”

He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Ten… you were only—”

“Twenty-three when she was born… it feels like a lifetime ago,” I said. “My life is complicated, Parker. A kid. An ex-wife. I’m your teacher, for hell’s sake. It’s a lot.”

“Like Pan and Silas from The Lost Boys,” he said, his thoughtful expression melting into a small smile. “We have a lot stacked against us.”

“This isn’t a queer fairytale.”

“No, it’s not, but I happen to know this really awesome professor who once said, ‘some of the best stories are the ones we can relate to.’”

“I never said that.”

“I know.” He grinned, his eyes gleaming with humor. “It was Mr. Douglas. I had him for English 101 last semester. But he isn’t as sexy as you are, terrible teeth.”

My shoulders shook as I laughed. “I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

“You’re not missing anything.” Parker pressed his chest against me. “One step at a time, okay? We should at least have dinner before we plan our nuptials.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I’m pretty funny when I want to be.”

I grazed the back of my hand along the coarse, stubbled line of his jaw. “And you’re okay with me having a kid?”

“Like I said… one step at a time.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed and nodded again. “I can handle that.”

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Anne.”

“Too bad Chuck isn’t more gender neutral…”

I kissed him with a smile on my lips, and my empty stomach filled with butterflies. His taste of mint enveloped me, muting any memories I’d had of cherry Popsicles, summer sun, and riverbanks. It became a part of me, the two pieces of myself finally merging into one.

Parker sat next to me on the couch, coughing as he set his beer on the coffee table next to the empty box of pizza. “Wait,” he managed to say, tucking his leg underneath his thigh. “Your ex cheated on you with one of her yoga students?”

“They were together until about a month ago… evidently it wasn’t as random as I’d thought.”

“She was fucking around for a while, then?” he asked, and I wanted to smile at his irritation. It was almost protective.

“No, but when she saw me with my client, she assumed I was cheating. I guess it was enough for her to finally act on her feelings for him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah… shit.” I finished my beer and set it on the side table. “It seemed impulsive to me at the time. How could she throw away everything for some random guy? Turns out he wasn’t that random.”

“You guys are still close?” he asked, picking up my hand. He turned it over in his lap, tracing the lines of my palm with his finger.  “For Anne?”

“We want to do what’s best for her, but Lanie was… is a huge part of my life. It’s different now, but it’s better this way. We weren’t invested anymore. Our relationship had run its course way before she cheated.”

“Does she know you’re bisexual?”

“No, but I told my sister and my brother.”

“Were they okay with it?”

“They were. My brother thinks my parents won’t be as accepting, but I don’t know. They’ve always been supportive, it’s hard to say how they will react.” I squeezed his hand. “What about you? Are you out to your parents?”

Parker’s gaze was distant, his posture smaller than it had been two seconds ago.

“My mom was good about it, my sister too.” He swallowed; his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I never got to tell my dad. He passed away when I was ten from a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it would have been like, losing a parent that young.”

“I would think losing a parent at any age would suck,” he said. “It was hard, but we got through it. We moved a lot because he was in the Air Force. He was stationed here in Georgia when he died, and the hardest part was how final it all felt. When he died, our lives kind of stopped and became static.” He exhaled and let go of my hand. “I joined for him, you know. The Air Force. I wanted him to be proud of me.”

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’s more than proud.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said with a hesitant smile.

“You should write about him.”

“I have.” He bit the inside of his cheek, like he had something to say, but wasn’t sure if he should or wanted to. “I mean… I can show you what I have sometime… if you want.”

“I’d love to read it.”

The television was on in the background, playing some old comedy from the nineties. The volume, a low hum, did nothing to break the charged silence between us. I wanted to kiss him, to bring back the mischievous spark in his eyes, but I wasn’t sure if he’d want me to, or if he was stuck in his head, remembering things much bigger than anything I’d lived through. He wet his lips, and his bright blue eyes darkened like they had back at the restaurant. Clumsy and unsure, I leaned in quicker than I’d anticipated, and he chuckled as our mouths collided.

“Easy… like this…”

He pressed a slow, soft kiss to my upper lip, to the corner of my mouth, making a lazy circuit from my chin, along my jaw, and back again. My hands framed his face as he sucked on my bottom lip, his fingers in my hair held me steady. I inhaled his spicy, soapy scent, pulling it into my lungs, my heart thumping loudly in my chest as he moved with easy grace and straddled my legs. My hands shook as I snuck them under the hem of his t-shirt, remembering the images he’d sent me on the app. I traced the lines of his muscles, his skin prickling under my fingertips. The heat of his flesh soaked into my right palm as I flattened it against the ridges of his abs. He lifted up onto his knees and reached behind his neck, pulling his shirt off in one swift movement. I gripped his hips, my gaze roaming over every inch of exposed, golden skin. Quiet, he watched me explore the dips and valleys of muscle, each breath shorter than the last as I skimmed my lips over the carved curve of his hip, to his belly button, to the dark blond hair that disappeared below his jeans. My curiosity and fear were both fighting for the number one spot in my head as I stared at the bulge in his jeans.

Firm fingers ran through my hair, tipping my head back, a crooked smile appeared on his full lips. “You can touch me if you want to… or not.” He lowered his big body, pinning me to the couch, and rolled his hips. “Or this is fine too.” He kissed me, his tongue diving into my mouth until I moaned. “This is enough.  We don’t have to do anything else.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to do everything and nothing at all. I wanted to stare at him all night, kiss him until my lips were properly chafed from the stubble on his sharp jaw. I wanted to feel his calloused hands on my dick. I wanted to taste him. Need scrambled and jumbled all my rational thoughts, but the burning blush on my cheeks spoke of my inexperience, and I had to count to ten before I could find my voice.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted. He started to climb off my lap, but I grabbed his hips and pulled him closer. “Stay… this is… this is good. Just…” I sucked in a breath as he moved against me, grinding his hips, stoking the fire, the ache that threatened to consume me. “Fuck… just… Just kiss me.”

Parker didn’t think twice, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck as his lips caught mine with a bruising kiss. I couldn’t touch him enough. My hands skated over his broad shoulders, my fingers clinging to his back, the muscles like granite as I lifted my hips to meet his, over and over again.

Panting, my head fell back into the couch. “Park… I…” I was about thirty seconds away from coming in my pants, my balls tight, all the friction too much to take. “Shit… wait.”

He lowered his nose into the crook of my neck, his breath harsh and out of control. Smiling against my skin, he said, “Why did you stop?”

“You know why.”

He leaned back and grinned at me. “I don’t think I’ve come in my pants since I was like sixteen.”

“I didn’t come in my pants.” I pinched his ass and he jumped.

Laughing, he started to unbutton my shirt. “You could always come in my mouth.”

“Wasn’t frotting supposed to be my first lesson?” My bold question wasn’t enough to hide the slight tremor in my voice as he unfastened the last button.

He pushed open my shirt, running a hand down the center of my chest. Parker had seen my chest in photos, but having him here, staring down at me like a sculpted statue of a god come alive, my inadequacies threatened to drown me.

“Christ… you’re even better in person.” He flicked his thumb over my nipple, smiling when I hissed. “I didn’t think it was possible to say the word frotting and sound cute at the same time. You proved me wrong.”

“Cute?”

“Fucking adorable.”

He kissed me again until I begged him for more, until I whispered his name, overwhelmed as his fingers worked open the fly of my jeans. I lifted my hips and shoved my jeans and briefs down as much as I could, Parker’s lips never leaving mine. His hot, rough hand gripped the base of my dick, and I bit his lip. He grunted, his hold only getting tighter as his tongue plunged into my mouth. I fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, taking longer than I would have liked. But it was worth the effort. I’d never looked at another man’s dick like this, and definitely not this close. Thick and not too long, the pink head touched his stomach. My mouth watered, and if I was brave enough, I might’ve leaned down and tasted him. But all I had the courage to do was touch him. I ran my thumb through the moisture leaking from his slit and down his crown to his shaft. He was foreign and decadent.

“Fuck, do that again,” he said, raising his hand to his mouth, he spit into his palm.

I did as he asked, watching as he lowered his hand and wrapped it around me. Slick with saliva, he pumped his fist up and down my length. My fingers curled around his cock, working him in fast, needy strokes, his deep moan resonating inside my chest. He grabbed my wrist, and at first, I thought he was about to put on the brakes.

“Why did you—”

But he took us both in one of his large hands, silencing me with his mouth. Skin on skin, our cocks aligned, smooth and hard, sliding and rubbing together inside his vise-like grip. The friction was beyond anything I’d ever felt before, and there was no way I would last more than a few minutes. Our tongues, urgent and insistent, tangled together, our teeth crashing and biting as we both climbed higher and higher, desperate to reach the peak.

“Ah… God… oh fuck—”

Gritting my teeth, my hands held the back of his neck, my forehead pressed against his as my orgasm ripped through me, spilling over his fingers. Parker wasn’t far behind, the sound he made, this low, rumbled growl, branded itself in my brain as his release coated his stomach and my chest. We didn’t speak, our heads still together, both of us breathing, chests heaving with our eyes closed. I didn’t think I’d feel emotional about it, about getting off with a guy, but for some damn reason my throat felt thick, and I had to pull away.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah… you?”

He chuckled and rubbed his sticky hand through the mess on my chest. “I think I’m doing okay.”

It was hard not to smile, the intimacy of the moment passed, taking the heavy feeling inside my chest with it.

“Should we clean up?”

“Might be a good plan…” he said, a smirk lighting his eyes. “But I’ve got to say, I kind of like the idea of you being covered in my spunk.”

“Like a dog pissing on a hydrant?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds gross.”

I laughed, and he was all smiles as he placed a chaste kiss to my lips. I stood and tucked myself into my briefs and zipped up my jeans, the evidence of what had happened already drying on my skin. Parker used the guest bathroom to clean up while I used mine. By the time I finished, I found Parker standing, fully dressed, washing our dinner dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

He set a plate into the drying rack. “I don’t mind.”

Parker dried his hands with a towel and hung it on my stove. It all felt too familiar again, and the awkward feeling I’d had earlier resurfaced.

“You’re freaking out. I can tell,” he said, slowly approaching me.

“No… I’m good. I promise.”

He draped his arms around my waist. “You’re not a very good liar, Mr. Brody.”

“Honestly, tonight was… emotional for me,” I said, and he pulled me closer. “That sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not ridiculous. Tonight was a first. Firsts are always emotional.”

I kissed him in the middle of my kitchen, the frenetic energy from before had become more sedate. I wanted to ask him to stay, to sleep in my bed, to give me another first. But I wanted him to leave, too, wanted to have the rest of the night to remember, to process, to fight through the inevitable self-doubt in private. It turned out I didn’t have a choice.

“Shit… I don’t want to leave, but I have to go,” he said, brushing my hair off my brow. “I’ve got to work in the morning. The kids hate it when I’m late.”

He’d told me earlier he worked as a tutor at Pride House. Just another thing that made it impossible for me to tell myself I shouldn’t be with him.

“I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have started something, knowing I had to—”

“Parker… It’s okay. Maybe next time you can stay later… if that’s something you’d want.”

“It’s something I want.”

His lips were soft against mine as he kissed me, and as much as I wished he could stay longer, the prospect of next time made it easier for me to watch him leave.

I walked him to the front door, and after we exchanged our cell phone numbers, he kissed me on the forehead with a promise to text me once he was off work tomorrow. I shut the door behind him and leaned against it, staring at the couch. The night filtered through my brain, and I saw us there, lips and skin and heat. Everything too fast. I thought about the things we still had to say, the ground rules we never set, but before my panic could set in, my phone vibrated on the coffee table. I walked over and picked it up, smiling when I saw the Pegasus notification.

@TheL0stB0y: I kissed you, knowing the flavor of your ruin.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Did you write that?

@TheL0stB0y: I did, just now, sitting at the stop sign.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Knowing the flavor of your ruin.

@MeAndMyShadow33: That’s dark.

@TheL0stB0y: That’s one way to look at it.

@MeAndMyShadow33: And the other?

@TheL0stB0y: Ruin can mean change. For the better or for the worse.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Am I your ruin?

@TheL0stB0y: I don’t know yet, but after tonight, I sure as fuck hope so.