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Ten Years Ago
Hearing voices outside his room, Travis Reid put his headphones down. He hit the pause button on the video game he was currently obsessed with. He padded towards the door and pressed his ear against the wood. He could make out Kurt, his older brother’s voice, along with another man.
Should he open the door and take a peek?
Ever since their old man passed away two months ago, it had been rough. Kurt and he started to get into fights more often. Travis just turned eighteen a week ago. He was practically an adult. Travis didn’t need Kurt’s protection anymore. Kurt thought it was his job to look out for his geeky, awkward younger brother his entire life, but Travis could take care of himself just fine.
Travis didn’t own a lot of stuff. He gave his messy room a once over. Travis had some savings in the bank from his part-time job at the Red Door Cafe. He could rent a one-room apartment somewhere in town, get out of Kurt’s way, except, he still stayed where he was.
Kurt would never admit it to his face, but they needed each other. Both their parents were dead. Their family was just down to the two of them. Despite the nasty argument Travis had with Kurt that afternoon, Travis opened his door. The apartment they lived in wasn’t exactly big. He could see their visitor right from where he stood.
He sucked in a breath. It was his brother’s best friend Preacher. His heart skipped a beat, as he caught sight of the six-foot-plus, muscled, and tatted-up bad boy. Preacher set down his backpack and took a seat in the living room while Kurt handed him a beer. For the longest time, Travis always had a secret crush on Preacher. He still did.
Travis didn’t stand a chance. To Preacher, he was probably just Kurt’s nerdy little brother who didn’t even have the guts to come out of the closet. His experience with dating was limited. Travis had to settle for stolen fumbles, kisses and blowjobs in secret places. All of the guys he screwed around with were only interested in one thing—getting off. None of them wanted to know him. Not really.
What would it be like to be with a real man like Preacher?
Travis shook his head. Travis doubted he was even on Preacher’s radar. He knew Preacher was gay because he once caught Preacher making out with another guy in Kurt's car.
Preacher looked damn good even if Travis hadn’t seen him in over a year. Preacher was twenty, just like his brother, two years older than Travis. Last he heard, Preacher left town and was moving from place to place on his motorcycle, picking odd jobs here and then to fuel his ride.
Noticing the shiner on Preacher’s left eye, Travis guessed Preacher had been fighting again. Kurt always complained about how often Preacher got into fights and how he had to constantly stop Preacher from getting into trouble.
“So, what happened to your eye?” Kurt asked.
Preacher ran a hand through his messy black hair and Travis caught a peek of his dark blue eyes. He felt like a creepy little stalker, standing by his door. Neither Travis or Kurt seemed to have noticed him.
“Doesn’t matter. You should see the other guy,” Preacher said, grinning.
“Before I let you stay over, I need to know whether you’re in deep shit or not. I can’t have you bringing trouble to my home. Dad’s dead. It’s up to me to look after Travis now." Kurt reminded Preacher.
Preacher snorted. “Isn’t Travis 18 now? I’m surprised he hasn’t flown out of the coop yet.” Preacher paused. “Have you decided what to do with your dad’s old boxing gym?”
Travis stilled at those words. That place meant jack shit to him but he knew the Hard Iron Gym was important to both Kurt and Preacher. It was where his father taught Kurt and Preacher to fight.
His dad would’ve taught him too, but Travis had zero interest in punching the lights out of someone else. Besides, he’d known since he was a kid that he wasn’t cut out to be a fighter.
“My dream is to keep the place afloat, but,” Kurt let out a breath. “My dad was broke when he died. He left us debts.”
That was news to Travis. No wonder Kurt had been working more and more lately, juggled three jobs even. Guilt rammed into him. Here was Travis, picking fights with Kurt all the time. He didn’t even contribute anything to the household or the bills. His part-time job didn’t pay much.
“Too bad. Hard Iron's where we learned how to fight,” Preacher said. For someone who always claimed he didn’t care about anything or anyone, Preacher almost sounded like he was genuinely sorry to see the place go. “It was home for me.”
For a second there, Preacher’s voice had gone soft. Vulnerable almost. Travis never expected to hear that tone from a tough-as-nails guy like Preacher. Some part of him envied Preacher for choosing to live by no one’s rules but now, Travis realized that kind of existence was a little lonely.
“Yeah, I know. You haven’t answered my question,” Kurt said.
“Don’t worry. I’m not dragging any trouble to your door. Let’s order some pizza. I’m starving. Is your little bro going to join us?” Preacher asked.
“No. We fought earlier. He locked himself in his room. I think he’s playing video games. Typical Travis.”
Preacher turned his head towards the corridor and met his gaze. His heart galloped. Then Preacher gave him a secret little wink as if he knew Travis had been eavesdropping the entire time. He sprinted back inside his room and slammed the door shut, embarrassed.
Travis leaned against the door, breathing hard.
“Travis?” He heard Kurt calling him. “We’re getting pizza. What flavor do you want?”
He sensed Kurt approaching his door. Kurt knocked but eventually gave up when Travis didn’t respond. Travis put his headphones back on, tried to get back to his game but he wasn’t into it anymore. He turned off his computer, set his headphones aside, and collapsed on his bed.
Travis didn’t know how much time had passed. He must’ve fallen asleep because when he looked at the wall clock above his bed, it was already past midnight. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he skipped dinner.
It was late. Maybe both Kurt and Preacher were asleep. Travis wouldn't run into anyone on his way to the kitchen. He crept out of his room, relieved to see the lights were off. Travis walked past Kurt’s room. Kurt always left his door opened. His brother was in bed, snoring softly.
Travis was certain there was still some leftover pizza. Kurt always ordered plenty.
He halted in the living room. Preacher lay on the couch, his blanket on the floor. Unlike Kurt, Preacher didn’t snore. Travis didn’t know what possessed him to come closer until Preacher was only a few feet from him.
Asleep, Preacher didn’t look so intimidating or scary. He almost looked tamed. Peaceful. Preacher didn’t wear a shirt, only boxers. Travis could make out the black ink on Preacher’s skin. He wondered what it would be like to touch them.
Preacher looked good enough to eat. Sexy, tasty man. Travis could feel his dick getting hard. He imagined himself pouncing on Preacher only for Preacher to turn the tables on him.
In a matter of seconds, Preacher would have reversed their positions and it would be Travis lying on his back and Preacher would be above him. What would it be like to be kissed, to be fucked and owned by this man?
Preacher would never be his. That one thought rooted Travis back to reality.
Travis should grab dinner and head back to his room. For some reason, he took those last few steps until he was only inches away from Preacher. He leaned in close, touching the day-old bread on Preacher’s face. What the hell was he doing?
Preacher and he never stood a chance. Travis planned on just stealing one kiss. That was all. Preacher wouldn’t even notice. By morning, Preacher would be long gone, off to God knew where. Preacher always reminded him of a restless nomad, someone who was always on the road. Someone who could never settle down.
“You going to kiss me or what?” Asked a deep voice.
Startled, Travis nearly backed away as Preacher opened those deep, ocean blue eyes. In the dark, they almost looked black. Preacher stood up. Travis remained frozen in place. Preacher slid one hand on the back of Travis' neck, preventing escape. Preacher’s hand felt big and rough, his touch incredibly warm.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked.
“You approached me,” Preacher drawled. “Are you backing off now? I’m kind of disappointed.”
Annoyed, he snuck a kiss on Preacher’s mouth. It was meant to be quick, but Preacher tightened his hold on his neck and kissed him back.
Preacher thrust fire into his mouth. He shut his eyes, letting Preacher deepen the kiss. All Travis could do was get lost in Preacher. The room fell away from his line of sight. Nothing else mattered but the kiss.
God.
This was exactly how he imagined kissing should be like. Preacher pulled away at the last second and the look in Preacher's eyes excited and scared Travis. Preacher reminded him of a hungry predator, but Travis didn’t mind being Preacher's prey.
“You’re dangerous,” Preacher said in a low voice.
He backed away from Preacher, finally realizing what he’d just done. Like a frightened rabbit, Travis bolted back to his room. He hated himself for being a coward, for always running when things got too hot.
“Sweet dreams, Travis,” Preacher called after him.
Travis snorted. Behind his closed door, he felt safe and a little silly. He touched his lips, which were still swollen from Preacher’s kiss. Damn Preacher for giving him a taste of something he could never have. Travis doubted he’d be able to get any sleep tonight.