for the overhead light. They climb the steps in silence and Jenner leads the way inside, flipping light switches as they go.
“I thought you lived with Max and Art,” Brayden says with a hollow, emotionless tone, hovering by the exit.
“Yeah. I do. But I inherited this place along with the bar and I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to rent it. Lately, I’ve liked using it to be alone.”
He drops his keys and wallet in the kitchen and returns to Brayden who retreats a few steps as Jenner gets too close. Determined, and now with first-hand experience with techniques that successfully calm Brayden down when he’s looking skittish, Jenner advances, backing him up to the wall. Each step ratchets up the tension in Brayden’s body, increases the volume of the desperate energy he gives off. When they are chest-to-chest with Jenner bearing down on him, Brayden seems on the verge of tears.
Calmly, slowly, Jenner guides Brayden’s arms up, clasping his hands and holding them tightly to the wall. Fitting a knee between his thighs, Jenner draws it up snug to Brayden’s crotch. His blush deepens but each subsequent breath becomes more even. Brayden stares at Jenner’s chest.
“Who’s Bette? A girlfriend?”
Jenner chuckles. “I’m queer. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
Brayden’s lips pucker slightly. “Oh.”
“Bette is my mother’s name. And just like almost everyone else in my life, she thinks I’m straight.”
For a long moment, neither of them say anything. Brayden trembles restlessly under Jenner’s hold, refusing to look him in the eye. Jenner imagines that he’s reliving it, the things they did in that room, only now inserting Jenner Parrish as his counterpart. Jenner gives him time.
“I didn’t tell anyone I was going to Manse last night,” Brayden whispers.
“Neither did I. It just happened. I saw you and I—”
Jenner stops himself abruptly, before he can let on more than he wants to.
“What? And you what?”
“And I,” he sighs, “didn’t want anyone else touching you.”
Then he
knows
Brayden is reliving it. He exhales sharply and bucks, fighting hard against Jenner’s grip, which only tightens, his knee grinding up into Brayden’s testicles, drawing a hard grunt.
“Should I let you go? We can sit down and talk about this.”
The particular phrasing of Jenner’s words pierces the fog clouding Brayden’s mind. For the first time since they walked into the apartment, he looks up at Jenner’s face. Brayden shrinks back at the hunger revealed in Jenner’s dark blue eyes, but perseveres. “I need this job,” he confesses like a damned man.
“Fuck the job,” Jenner scoffs. “This isn’t about the damned job. I’m not firing you and I won’t use this as any sort of leverage against you. This is strictly personal. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now. Should I let you go?”
It all catches up with Brayden, visibly overwhelming him. He sucks in a rough breath and holds it, blinking back tears.
Concerned, desperate to help and somehow make things better, but not sure how, Jenner lets him go but stays where he is. “Hey. Better or worse? Braydy, better or worse?”
“Worse,” he chokes.
Jenner takes a backward step.
“Worse!”
“Okay, okay. It’s okay.”
Suspecting that seeing someone so much larger than himself looming over him, big as life, might be part of Brayden’s problem, Jenner turns Brayden to face the wall. Holding both of Brayden’s wrists in one hand, Jenner traps them over his captive’s head, against the wall, as if stringing him up by them and letting him hang there.
“B-better,” Brayden murmurs.
Jenner reaches around and palms Brayden through his jeans. Closing his hand, grabbing hold, he rolls the flesh. It jumps and thickens with interest.
“Better?”
Releasing his handful for only a second, Jenner pops the fly of Brayden’s jeans and slips his hand inside Brayden’s boxers instead.
“
Jenner
,” Brayden gasps, his voice
“I thought you lived with Max and Art,” Brayden says with a hollow, emotionless tone, hovering by the exit.
“Yeah. I do. But I inherited this place along with the bar and I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to rent it. Lately, I’ve liked using it to be alone.”
He drops his keys and wallet in the kitchen and returns to Brayden who retreats a few steps as Jenner gets too close. Determined, and now with first-hand experience with techniques that successfully calm Brayden down when he’s looking skittish, Jenner advances, backing him up to the wall. Each step ratchets up the tension in Brayden’s body, increases the volume of the desperate energy he gives off. When they are chest-to-chest with Jenner bearing down on him, Brayden seems on the verge of tears.
Calmly, slowly, Jenner guides Brayden’s arms up, clasping his hands and holding them tightly to the wall. Fitting a knee between his thighs, Jenner draws it up snug to Brayden’s crotch. His blush deepens but each subsequent breath becomes more even. Brayden stares at Jenner’s chest.
“Who’s Bette? A girlfriend?”
Jenner chuckles. “I’m queer. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
Brayden’s lips pucker slightly. “Oh.”
“Bette is my mother’s name. And just like almost everyone else in my life, she thinks I’m straight.”
For a long moment, neither of them say anything. Brayden trembles restlessly under Jenner’s hold, refusing to look him in the eye. Jenner imagines that he’s reliving it, the things they did in that room, only now inserting Jenner Parrish as his counterpart. Jenner gives him time.
“I didn’t tell anyone I was going to Manse last night,” Brayden whispers.
“Neither did I. It just happened. I saw you and I—”
Jenner stops himself abruptly, before he can let on more than he wants to.
“What? And you what?”
“And I,” he sighs, “didn’t want anyone else touching you.”
Then he
knows
Brayden is reliving it. He exhales sharply and bucks, fighting hard against Jenner’s grip, which only tightens, his knee grinding up into Brayden’s testicles, drawing a hard grunt.
“Should I let you go? We can sit down and talk about this.”
The particular phrasing of Jenner’s words pierces the fog clouding Brayden’s mind. For the first time since they walked into the apartment, he looks up at Jenner’s face. Brayden shrinks back at the hunger revealed in Jenner’s dark blue eyes, but perseveres. “I need this job,” he confesses like a damned man.
“Fuck the job,” Jenner scoffs. “This isn’t about the damned job. I’m not firing you and I won’t use this as any sort of leverage against you. This is strictly personal. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now. Should I let you go?”
It all catches up with Brayden, visibly overwhelming him. He sucks in a rough breath and holds it, blinking back tears.
Concerned, desperate to help and somehow make things better, but not sure how, Jenner lets him go but stays where he is. “Hey. Better or worse? Braydy, better or worse?”
“Worse,” he chokes.
Jenner takes a backward step.
“Worse!”
“Okay, okay. It’s okay.”
Suspecting that seeing someone so much larger than himself looming over him, big as life, might be part of Brayden’s problem, Jenner turns Brayden to face the wall. Holding both of Brayden’s wrists in one hand, Jenner traps them over his captive’s head, against the wall, as if stringing him up by them and letting him hang there.
“B-better,” Brayden murmurs.
Jenner reaches around and palms Brayden through his jeans. Closing his hand, grabbing hold, he rolls the flesh. It jumps and thickens with interest.
“Better?”
Releasing his handful for only a second, Jenner pops the fly of Brayden’s jeans and slips his hand inside Brayden’s boxers instead.
“
Jenner
,” Brayden gasps, his voice
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