Tipping the Balance (36 page)

“But it’s a small school, so it’s not like we could hide, even if we wanted to,” Morgan said. The look he gave Nick spoke volumes.

Drew felt like he and Brad had come into the middle of something, but Brad’s question now made much more sense. He was afraid he’d be spotted. With Drew. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The conversation turned to crew. Drew supposed it was inevitable.

It was
passive-aggressive, even a little childish, but Drew wanted to see how long it took Brad to figure out that something about their evening upset him. It took the entire football game, a quick bite to eat, and part of the drive back to his place.

“Hey, you’re awfully quiet over there,” Brad said.

“Yes, I am,” Drew said, his tone of voice brittle.

Brad frowned in the darkness. “Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”

Drew sighed. He hated “discussions,” but he’d sparked this one, so he couldn’t very well run from it. “Were you aware how much you relaxed when they joined us?”

“Are you upset Nick and Morgan joined us?
You
told them to sit down,” Brad said.

Drew shook his head. “I didn’t say I was upset. I just observed how much you calmed down once they did. Why is that?”

Brad squirmed. “I don’t know… I didn’t think I did.”

Drew looked at him levelly but didn’t say anything. Brad’s shoulders slumped. “I just know a lot of people there.”

“We didn’t run into anyone you know other than Nick and Morgan,” Drew pointed out.

“No, I guess we didn’t. Maybe my old friends aren’t that into football,” Brad said. It sounded like a question.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Drew said softly, afraid of the answer but needing it all the same.

“Oh hell, Drew. Is that what this is about?” Brad demanded. He looked at Drew, but Drew refused to meet his eyes, looking straight ahead at the road.

“Are you?”

“Of course not,” Brad snapped. “No, Drew, of course not,” he repeated more softly.

“Then what is it? Because that’s sure what it feels like,” Drew said, “and I’ve got to tell you, it sucks.”

“What do you want me from, Drew? It’s October. In August, I thought was I was straight. Now….”

“Now what? What happened?” Drew said.

“I met you,” Brad said, “and now I don’t know.”

This was why his friends had warned him, why Nick had warned him. He cared for Brad a lot. Lately, he wondered if he were starting to love him, but this hurt. Before he met Brad, he’d always thought that if a boyfriend “did him wrong,” he’d react with righteous fury, kicking said bad boyfriend to the curb in a fit of indignation and self-respect. But now, faced with the very real possibility that his closeted boyfriend was embarrassed to be seen publicly with him, all he wanted to do was cry.

“You’re quiet. Talk to me?” Brad said.

“It’s funny,” Drew said in a way that meant it was anything but. “I fought tooth and claw to come out in high school. My family was horrified. I got the shit kicked out of me just about every day for most of my sophomore year by big jerks like you, and now—”

“I’m not a big jerk,” Brad said quietly. “I’m just—”

“No, not intentionally, but I’m hurt anyway. It’s just kind of ironic, you know? Drew St. Charles, teenaged ambassador to baffled heterosexual high-schoolers, eleven years later is dating a closet case and getting his heart bro—trampled.”

Brad remained silent for the rest of the drive to Drew’s house.

“Are you coming in?” Drew said from the driveway when he realized Brad hadn’t gotten out of the car.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to,” Brad said.

Drew wanted many things, starting with a boyfriend who would, if not hold his hand in public, at least be seen with him. But he also wanted Brad. He wasn’t used to compromising. He didn’t like it.

“I want you to come in,” Drew said.

Brad sat in the car, just looking out at him, a worried look on his face.

“Please?” said Drew. He held out his hand.

Brad got out of the car and came around to where Drew stood. He reached out to take Drew’s hand. “Can… can I hold you?”

“Yes,” Drew said, and in a rush, his big lug of a boyfriend enfolded him in his arms right there in the driveway. No, it wasn’t public like the football stadium, but at least it was outside. He sagged against the larger man, resting his head on Brad’s shoulder.

Brad kissed the top of his head. “I can’t say I’ll be rushing to march in any parades or that what I’m dealing with right now with is easy or anything, but I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. I’m not.”

Drew nodded. “Let’s go inside. I’m actually getting kind of cold.”

Brad led him to the door and then waited while he opened it. Brad closed the door behind him.

Drew opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Brad grabbed him and held him, kissing him. “I’m sorry,” Brad whispered in between kisses. “I never want to make you feel bad.”

“I know,” Drew said, and he did. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Or that he didn’t feel something else right then.

“You still cold?” Brad said, his voice suggestive.

“Warming up nicely,” Drew breathed before he kissed Brad.

Drew felt Brad grin as he kissed him. “Because I think I can warm you up some more.”

“That’s because you’re so hot,” Drew said. He pulled Brad’s shirt up and ran his hands under it. He’d never get enough of Brad’s chest, ever. He made a face. “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

“It was pretty bad,” Brad laughed. “Even if it’s true.” He deepened the kiss, holding Drew’s face in his large hands, fanning his thumbs along Drew’s cheeks.

“Come on, what’re we waiting for?” Drew said. He took off for his bedroom, with Brad half a step behind.

Drew almost made it to his bedroom.

With a grunt, Brad launched himself at Drew, catching him around the waist and dragging him down to the bed. With a “Ha!” he rolled Drew over and straddled him.

Drew stared up at him with wide, hungry eyes.

Brad grinned at him. “Like that, do you?”

Drew nodded slowly.

“Then I know you’ll love this,” Brad said. He grabbed one of Drew’s arms and yanked it up and over his head. Holding it with one hand, Brad pulled Drew’s other arm up and held him.

Just like that, Drew’s bones turned to jelly and his cock went rock hard. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, inviting a kiss.

“Someone likes it rough,” Brad breathed. He leaned over to kiss Drew, greedy and demanding and plundering. The time for gentleness was past. It was time to show the man who was boss. Brad was inexperienced when it came to sex with men, but he’d been paying attention. He knew what Drew liked. What he wanted. What he needed.

If the first time they made love was all about Brad, this felt to Drew like it was all about him, like Brad was taking everything he’d learned since that night and putting it into practice on and for him.

Brad awkwardly pulled Drew’s shirt up to expose him to Brad’s lips and tongue and teeth. “Remember the first day of the reno this summer? Making out in that bedroom?” Brad said.

“Uh-huh,” Drew squeaked, distracted by Brad’s inexpert but effective lapping at one nipple.

“Remember how I was freaked out by your beard?”

“Yeah,” Drew said. He struggled to focus through the rising pleasure.

“There was something else that day,” Brad said. He kissed his way lazily across Drew’s chest to the other pec as one hand strayed south, palming Drew’s erection through his jeans before slipping inside the waistband.

“Braaad,” Drew moaned. Had Brad always been this much of a talker? It was making him crazy.

“Wanna know what?”

Drew opened his eyes. “What?”

Brad looked up into his eyes. “I wanted to know what your cock would feel like in my mouth. What it—you—would taste like.”

“Jeez,” Drew gasped, suddenly unable to breathe.

Brad smirked up at him as he popped the first button on Drew’s jeans. “Think it’d be okay to find out?”

“Uh-huh.”

Pop.

“Because I don’t want to do anything to make you angry,” Brad said. He bit playfully at one nip and then soothed the sting with his tongue.

Drew knew what Brad was doing, had apparently taught him the rhythm, in fact. But doing it and feeling it were totally different. That, plus Brad’s explorations in his underwear, drove him crazy anyway. “You’re… not. You’re… this… hot,” he said, struggling to focus.

Pop.

“Are you sure? I’m new at this. I’m probably not very good.”

Nip. Lick. Kiss. The other nipple lit up under Brad’s mouth.

Drew clawed at the duvet. Damn, but the man was a quick study. “You’re… fucking awesome.”

“Maybe later. But if I’m not doing this right, I could stop.”

Brad kissed the middle of Drew’s chest. Starting at the top of Drew’s abs, he slowly worked his tongue into the ridge between the muscles, the shallow indention that formed the midline of the washboard.

Pop.

“Don’t you dare… ohmygod, Brad! Don’t stop!”

Brad’s tongue ignited a trail on Drew’s skin while Brad’s hand did the devil’s work in his pants, and it was so right and so wrong and he floated in a white-hot burning heaven.

“Well, would you look at that,” Brad said in wonder. “Your pants are”—pop!—“completely undone. How d’you suppose that happened?” he murmured. “And—my goodness, your underwear’s kind of messy. Something’s leaking in there.”

“You’re killing me, Brad. Please?”

Brad toyed with the elastic waistband of Drew’s boxer-briefs. “Please what? Tell me what you want.”

Drew raised his head. “I want you to stop this torture and put my goddamn dick in your mouth already.”

Brad flashed him his shit-eating grin. With the tiny part of his brain still capable of rational thought, Drew suddenly understood why Brad had irritated Nick. “Why, Drew, all you had to do was ask.”