Mother, mother
There’s too many of you crying…
Brian tried to shove Jenkins off, but he wasn’t having it. He noisily sang the words to Marvin Gaye’s oldie, What’s Going On© in his ear while he gripped Brian’s neck with one hand and held a pretend microphone with the other.
“Sing everybody!”
“Don’t punish me with brutality”
“Oh, what’s going on!”
Brian couldn’t hear the silence of his home, only that damn singing. He put his hands over his ears and tried to make himself small. He felt abrasive sand and dirt dug into his bare arms. He saw his team, his brothers all singing and laughing together. Singing about the hate and injustice of the world.
That’d been their last night together. That morning at 0800, they’d been ambushed.
“Brian! Brian!”
Brian heard his name being called but the more his mind tried to climb through the confusion of lingering in the past and present, the harder the flashback pulled him backwards.
“Brian!”
The music played on, drowning out the frantic voice that was trying to save him. He wanted to come back to Sway so badly, but he was terrified that if and when he did, what he’d see in those brown eyes. Would it be fear? Shame? Confusion?
“It’s okay. I’m here, Brian. Please open your eyes. Come back.”
Brian hissed and clutched his ears harder.
The music and singing stopped and strong lean arms held him so firmly there was no way he could mistake it for it happening right now. Compact biceps anchoring him to the present. He was being held by Sway. He hadn’t run away.
“You’re okay, Brian. I got you now.”
Sway began to wake, unable to describe the amazingness he was feeling. If this was all a dream, he didn’t want it to end. He teetered on the edge of consciousness. That in-between he lingered in when he slept like the dead and was trying to wake up. He was in the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept on and knew immediately he wasn’t at home. He was so warm and the covers felt so good. He turned his head and inhaled deeply, the smell of strong earthy scents filled his nostrils. Rosewood, suave patchouli and masculine pheromones. Moaning and stretching like a satisfied cat, Sway squeezed his half hard erection, because now he knew exactly where he was and whose bed he was in. He flipped onto his back and stared at the cool, industrial-type ceiling fan.
I bet he put that up there himself. Sway smiled and rubbed the cool, black sheets. It was obvious Brian had never gotten into bed with him. Sway wasn’t sure how he’d felt about Brian tucking him in before, but he’d fallen asleep so fast he hadn’t had long to be upset. But after waking and feeling like he did, he wanted to find the man and give him a decent thank you.
Sway reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. It was almost eight-thirty. I told him I only wanted to sleep an hour. Sway couldn’t even muster a scowl. He felt too good. Sway knelt in the middle of the bed and glanced around the spacious room. Was he going to find one thing about this man to give him pause? Even the home wasn’t what he’d expected. With Brian’s hours and occupation, Sway thought he’d find a kitchen with no food, only beer, protein shakes and take out containers in the fridge, a bedroom without a single decoration on the walls, a dresser used to store condoms and lube, clothes in piles in corners, and a bunch of weight lifting equipment. Sway rolled his eyes. He could really be a stereotypical idiot sometimes. He’d learned over dinner that Brian was brilliant, Annapolis-educated and gorgeous, not a damn meathead.
Sway climbed off the bed, moving slowly as if he missed it already and pulled on his jeans, leaving them unfastened. It was so toasty in the bedroom from the fire that he didn’t bother putting on his socks and T-shirt. He didn’t want to wait another second to see Brian. He wondered what he had planned for him. Sway was all smiles when he came out the bedroom, that warm and fuzzy feeling from being in Brian’s bed, still clinging to him like an ever-giving cloak. He glanced across the hall into the great room—he believed that’s what Brian had called it—but it was dark, only the faint lights in the wall shelves could be seen. There was a closed door at the end of the hall, so he turned and continued in the other direction. Most of the doors were closed, so he didn’t stop until he got to the large opening that led to the kitchen. He’d only taken a couple of steps in when he heard a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house. Or was it outside?