Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Donovan

“How come you never use the dining room when Anne is here?” Parker asked as he walked into the kitchen. “You guys should have tea parties and shit in there.”

“Tea parties?” Smiling, I asked, “Does she seem like a tea-party type of girl to you?”

He shrugged, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing plates. “No, but I mean, how do you know if you’ve never had one? My sister used to dress me up in her princess dresses and make me have tea parties with her. It wasn’t terrible. The cookies were decent enough.” I laughed and he grinned at me as he set the plates on the counter. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he said, “I even wore a tiara.”

“I think I need to see pictures.”

“No pictures, unfortunately, but if you ever want me to get dressed up in something frilly…” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, his five-o’clock shadow scraping against my cheek as he spoke. “I could probably borrow something from Marcos.”

“Mmm, as fun as that sounds, I prefer you naked.” I curled my fingers into his sweater and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Careful, professor. We have company.”

Ethan’s voice carried into the kitchen from the small dining area next to the living room. If Parker and I moved a few feet to the right, we’d be able to see him from where we stood.

“Then, it’s probably not a good time to tell you I want you to fuck me tonight?”

“Van…” His pupils were wide as he leaned back. “You can’t say something like that to me and not expect me to throw everyone out, like right now.”

“It’s my house.”

“And?”

I laughed and rested my forehead against his.

“Are you sure that’s something you want?” he asked. His hand was on my neck, his thumb pressed against my pulse, and I wondered if he could feel how sure I was.

“I’m sure,” I said and pulled back as I took a breath. “I trust you. Trust us. I want you, Parker. In every way.”

I drew my thumb along the smooth curve of his smile, and he closed his eyes. “I don’t know why, but I’m nervous.”

“For you or for me?”

“Both,” he said and opened his eyes. “What if you hate it, or I hurt you and—”

“Can we help with anything?” Anders leaned against the opposite side of the breakfast bar with Ethan at his side.

I dropped my hands from Parker’s waist, wishing he could have finished what he was about to say. “I mean, if you want to help me open up these take-out boxes… I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Ethan chuckled and walked into the kitchen. “I think I can help with that.”

“Should we wait for your friend, Parker?” Anders asked.

“Nah… he’s always late. He won’t mind if we start without him.”

“Help yourselves,” I said. “I got a little bit of everything. Hope you like Indian.”

“I don’t think Ethan’s ever had it before,” Anders said, and smiled when Ethan’s nose wrinkled.

“Nope, can’t say that I have.”

“He’s not a very adventurous eater.” Anders’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he stared at his soon-to-be husband. “I took him to this restaurant in New York once. It was the first time he had sushi. I tried to get him to eat octopus.”

“Fuck that,” Parker said, and Ethan high fived him like they were old buddies and hadn’t met only twenty minutes ago.

“There is no reason in the world to eat something with eight goddamn legs. Not unless it’s the apocalypse and it means survival.” Ethan grinned at Anders as he sighed.

“It’s actually quite good,” I said, and Parker raised his brows with a disgusted look on his face. “I’ll have to take you out for sushi, see what you think.”

“I’m going to have to pass on that date night, babe,” he said with a lopsided smile. It was the first time he’d ever called me babe, and it caught me off guard. Like he could read my mind, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. The affection in front of my friends made my cheeks burn. We rarely got to be open like this in front of others, and God, I liked it. “The babe kind of slipped out.” He spoke low enough that only I could hear him.

“I liked it.”

“…think it’s weird to eat something that’s in the same family as a spider,” Ethan said, oblivious to our side conversation.

“You eat crab.” Anders’ smile was triumphant.

“Fuck, I hate it when you’re right.” Ethan attempted a scowl, but Anders placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Love you, too.”

The four of us dug in, scooping rice, tikka masala, and curry onto our plates. Ethan seemed skittish, at first, but when Anders fed him a piece of chicken, he added another scoop onto his dish. Once we were settled around my small dining room table, I poured the wine I’d opened earlier into my glass, and passed the bottle to Anders right as the doorbell rang.

“See… he’s always late,” Parker grumbled as he stood. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, we’ve barely started,” I said. “Sit down, I can let him in.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to give him shit.” Parker leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to my lips.

As he walked away, Ethan chuckled.

“What?” I asked, and he covered his smile with his fist as he chewed.

He swallowed and took a sip of his wine. “It’s different seeing you with him. You seem… I can’t think of the word.”

“Content,” Anders cut in. “I’ve only seen you two at the office a couple of times together, but watching you two tonight… you seem lighter, less burdened. I’m happy for you, Van.”

“Thanks…”

I didn’t know what else to say. Since the beginning of September, Parker and I had been hidden away inside my house except for a few occasions we chanced going out together, or when we had class. Our relationship felt surreal sometimes, like we were trapped inside the top of an hourglass, and the time we had together was the sand sifting away into another reality, one that might not belong to us outside the bubble we’d locked ourselves in. Having everyone here, kissing Parker in front of my friends, we’d started to intertwine our lives. We hadn’t shattered the glass, but we were getting there.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. B. Traffic was ridiculous.” Marcos smiled as everyone stared at him.

His hair was a tangle of curls and spilled over his forehead. He had on a crop top gray sweater and high-waisted jeans. The boots he wore added a few inches to his height, and instead of the usual dark eye make-up I was used to seeing him wear to class, his face was clean except for the pink gloss on his lips.

“This is Anders and Ethan, and you know Van. Everyone, this is my friend Marcos. He likes to be fashionably late because he’s a giant attention whore.”

“Like that’s a bad thing?” Marcos pulled out a chair and sat down. “Besides, it takes time to look this good.”

“Shit…” Ethan choked on a laugh. “He’s worse than Wild.”

“I noticed,” Anders said, but his smile was amiable. “We have a friend who—”

“Wilder Welles,” Parker interrupted as he sat down. “He’s one of my favorite authors.”

“Wait… are they talking about that twink author Mr. B invited to class at the beginning of the semester.”

“Please, call me Van.”

Marcos smirked. “I like Mr. B better. It makes you blush.”

“Marcos, don’t be a dick.”

“Like I could be anything else, mijo.” He blew Parker a kiss, and Ethan cracked up.

“Holy shit, I think I love you.” Ethan wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I can’t wait to tell Wild you called him a twink.”

“Please don’t,” Anders said. “It’s been quiet around the office. It’s… tranquil.”

“Nice word,” Ethan said, and they both shared a private smile.

“One day I want to pick Wilder’s brain, and if my best friend insults him, I’ll never get the chance.” Parker’s gaze landed on Anders. “I still can’t believe you want to represent me when you have clients like him.”

“Parker…” Anders’s brows dipped into his familiar, stern agent face. “Your talent is your own. And what I’ve seen so far rivals Wilder Welles’s best work, you just have to learn your craft.”

I rested my hand above Parker’s knee and gave it a soft squeeze. “He’s right. I can already see how much you’ve worked on your craft every time you send me something new to read. I mean…you wrote an entire play.”

And like we weren’t sitting at a table with several sets of eyes watching us, I brushed my lips over his. It wasn’t chaste like earlier, or quick. Parker reached up, grabbing the back of my neck with his big hand, and opened for me. It might’ve only lasted a few seconds, or maybe it was longer, but when I pulled away, all I saw was him.

Someone cleared their throat, but it wasn’t until Marcos spoke that the spell was fully broken. “Damn, Mr. B… that was hot.”

“Jesus Christ,” Parker whispered, but he was all smiles as everyone laughed. He shoved his friend in the shoulder. “Just call him, Van. Okay, asshole?”

Marcos held up his hands. “Whatever you want.” He pushed the bottle of wine toward Parker. “Here, drink this and stop being a bitch.”

“And how do you two know each other?” Anders asked.

“We served in the Air Force together,” Marcos said. “I know… I don’t look like the type, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, speaking of which, who do I have to blow around here to get some curry?”

“It’s not that kind of dinner party,” Parker said, resting his hand on my shoulder as he stood. “Come on, I’ll make you a plate if you behave.”

As they both headed into the kitchen, I thought Anders was going to choke to death. He coughed, or laughed, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“Wow,” Ethan said. “Can we keep him, Daddy?”

“Ha-ha.” Anders shook his head. “I already have one drama queen in my life. We’ll let Van keep this one.”

Parker pulled back the blanket on my bed as I watched him from the bathroom doorway. Chilled, I rubbed my towel over my damp skin one last time before tossing it in my hamper. We’d taken a shower after everyone left about an hour ago. He’d already ditched his towel, standing naked, the muscled globes of his ass flexed as he moved. His back was chiseled, his broad shoulders carved to perfection. He was power and strength personified, and I was about to give him my body.

“What are you doing way over there?” he asked, giving me a crooked grin as he sat on the bed. “You look cold.”

“Are you saying my dick looks small?”

Laughing, he said, “There is nothing small about your dick. And if you get your ass over here, I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

I hummed and made my way over to the bed, trying to ignore the lube sitting on the nightstand. Parker’s warm hands cupped my ass as he nuzzled his nose into my groin. I threaded my fingers through his hair, and he leaned back.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “What we already have… it’s good, Van. I’m good.”

“I want to.” I ran my knuckles across the arch of his cheek. “I want to at least try.”

“And you swear to fucking God you’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like it?”

“I swear to fucking God,” I said, his honest concern making me smile. “If it’s too much I’ll tell you.”

His fingertips tickled the backs of my thighs as he spoke. “Consent is important to me.”

“I know.”

“And I never want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“And—”

“Parker. I want you to fuck me.”

He bit the corner of his lip, his blue eyes fixed on mine. I waited for him to say something, but all he gave me was a quiet nod of his head. He moved to the other side of the bed, leaving enough room for me to lie next to him. He propped himself up onto his elbow, a strand of his dirty blond hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at me.

“I meant it when I said what we already have is enough.” I started to speak but he covered my mouth with his hand, and I chuckled. “Listen. I know what you want, and believe me, I’m fucking ready for it, but what you’re giving me, what you’ve already given me, it means something to me.” He raised his hand, tracing my lips with his finger. “And I wanted you to know that.”

I took his wrist in my hand and kissed his palm. “It means something to me too.”

It means I think I’ve fallen for you. It means I think I love you. It means have me. It means I’m yours.

Parker sat up and leaned over me, his hands on either side of my head. The weight and heat of his body covered me, and I was no longer cold. His lips pressed against mine, a low moan rumbling in his chest as I raised my hips, rutting against him. Wet kisses marked my neck, my chest, and my stomach. With one hand he hooked my right leg over his shoulder. He’d seen me like this before, but tonight his slow perusal of my body was more intense. Like kindling to a fire, heat ignited low in my stomach, rising with his gaze, it colored my chest and neck. Parker licked his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine as he rubbed it against my hole. I shuddered, desperate to close my eyes but wanting to keep them open too. He held my gaze as he lowered his head, as his tongue swirled around the tip of my cock, as he took me to the back of his throat.

“God,” I gasped, my fingers twisting into his hair, my voice breaking as he swallowed. “Park.”

He sat up and took a breath, pushing my legs to my chest. I gripped the backs of my thighs and gave in to the urge to close my eyes as the tip of his nose trailed through the hair on my legs to my groin. He licked a line down the length of my shaft, taking my balls into his mouth, and I moaned his name again. I almost dropped my legs, wanting to bury my hands in his hair, but when the hot pressure of his tongue pushed into my ass, I forgot to care about anything else.

“I love that sound,” he said, and I realized I’d started to whimper.

He fucked me with his tongue, the soft intrusion almost too much to take. It wasn’t enough, and I found myself muttering the words more and please the longer he tasted me, teased me.

“You want more?” he asked and crawled over my body.

I dropped my aching legs as he stroked my cock, pre-come leaking onto my stomach, and said, “Yes. Please... yes.”

He reached toward the nightstand for the lube, and my heart gave two unsteady beats before finding its rhythm again. Parker bent down and kissed me, deep and sweet, but when I heard the click of the bottle opening, I froze.

“It’s okay,” he whispered the words into the corner of my mouth before he kissed me again. “Tell me to stop, Van. Tell me if you can’t take it.”

He kissed me and kissed me, his hand stroking me slow and slow and—I was on the edge. Parker moved in small increments of time and touch, and one second my lips were raw from his rough kisses, and the next my thighs and balls felt the burn of his stubble too. He tasted me again, this time with more aggression, until I was pulling at the sheets, until a cool, slippery finger pushed inside of me, and I cried out when it brushed against my prostate. He took his time stretching me, one finger, then two. I thought about all the times I’d done this for him, tasted him, filled him, and marked him as mine. I wanted it. Wanted to be his, marked and full and…

“Ahh…” My eyes slammed shut as he slipped in a third finger. “God, I…”

“I can stop.”

“No, don’t…” I took a few deep breaths as his other hand slid up and down the length of my dick. “Feels good.”

He gave me time to adjust, sucking my cock, slow and slow and—I was on the edge again. When he finally pulled out, I spread my legs for him, and he knelt between them.

“Do you want me like this?” I asked.

“If that’s okay with you?” He leaned down and I wrapped my legs around his hips, his lips grazing mine. I nipped his chin and he smiled. “I want to see your face.”

“That’s okay with me.”

Parker reached down and grabbed the base of his cock, the head nudging against me, he said, “Promise… if I hurt you—”

“I promise.”

He visibly swallowed, his jaw pulsing as he pushed his way inside my body. A spike of hot pain made me cringe and he stopped. “You good?”

“Yeah, keep going.”

I breathed him in, inch by inch, the pain slowly giving way to something more, something overwhelming and full, and when he was buried inside me, his chest rising and falling with restraint, I finally understood what it meant to feel whole.

“Van…” he said, but it was more of a rasped whisper. “Can I move?”

“Yes… I need you to.”

He gripped my hips, lifting me as he pulled out and pushed in, sweat breaking out across my temple and forehead as he found his rhythm. His eyes remained soft as he fucked into me, my moans filling the room as the head of his cock hit the exact spot I needed over and over again. Parker grunted, the low sound mixed with the slapping echo of our bodies, uncensored and uninhibited, as it surrounded me. My fingers dug into the muscles of his back as he leaned down, his mouth striking against my lips like a match. I held onto him, my dick trapped between us, the friction, his skin, my skin, and Jesus, I thought I might come without having to touch myself at all. Sloppy and hungry, my tongue pushed past his lips, and with my grip on the back of his neck, I thrust my hips, matching his pace as the edge he’d had me dangling from became harder and harder to hold.

“That’s good,” he said, “Fuck… Van… you feel so good.”

He sat back and grabbed my thighs, slamming into me, stealing my breath. His pulse pounded under his skin near his throat, and I wanted to feel it against my lips when he came. I grabbed my dick, stroking it from root to tip, my climax building faster and more pronounced every time our bodies came together.

“Park… I need…” I groaned, my breath catching again in my throat. “I need you to kiss me.”

He fell forward, holding himself up with his hands, leaving me room to get myself off as his mouth crashed into mine. I kissed his lips, his jaw, my teeth sinking into his shoulder as my orgasm ripped through me, spilling over my fingers and onto my stomach, and coating his chest. It kept coming, my moan just as drawn out and loud, my whole body trembled with it. Panting, I brought my lips to his pulse, my sticky hands on his hips as he came inside me. Parker’s heat was my heat, he’d marked me like I’d marked him. Firsts and more kisses and sweat and more kisses, until he collapsed next to me, tucking his nose into my neck, and inhaled.

A few minutes passed, our legs intertwined, and every breath we shared brought us back down to Earth.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asked, and I turned onto my side.

Almost nose to nose, I smiled when he pushed my damp hair off my forehead. “I’ll be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it.”

Parker reached between us, ignoring the mess, and ran his hand down my chest to my hip. He tugged me closer, until my body was flush with his. My mess was his mess.

“Is it bad I kind of want you to be a little sore. At the risk of sounding cliché, I want you to think about this, think about us all day tomorrow.”

“I think about you all day regardless.”

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile I would package if I could. I’d open it whenever I started to doubt myself, or us, or anything, for that matter. It was sunlight breaking through a heavy cloud bank.

“You do?”

“Parker. At the risk of sounding cliché…” I held my breath and counted backward from five to one. “I… I’m crazy about you.”

It means I think I’ve fallen for you.

“Yeah?” He leaned in, his gaze falling to my mouth.

“Completely.”

It means I think I love you.

“Good, because I’m pretty fucking crazy about you, too.”

It means have me.

“Good, are you going to kiss me now?”

“I always want to kiss you,” he said and pushed me onto my back.

It means I’m yours.