| |
Brandon ended up wandering by himself for only a few minutes before he returned to Tré’s side. Sitting next to his boyfriend, Tré rubbing Brandon’s leg and leaning over to give him reassurance every so often, was better than sulking alone in a corner. They stayed together the whole night, only separating for Tré to have his match.
After Tré showered and changed, they left the arena, Brandon’s hood up to hide from the fans as he waited in the shadows for Tré to drive around and pick him up. Laughing with Tré over their cloak-and-dagger maneuvering brightened his mood during the drive to the next town.
Once they made it to their hotel room, Tré pulled Brandon onto the bed with him. He sat up against the headboard and guided Brandon to sit between his legs and rest against his chest. “We’ll figure this out,” he said reassuringly.
Brandon snorted. “There’s nothing to figure out. Either I lose time and money fighting GWS on this, I sit out from FPW for a year and go wrestle for non-televised companies. Or—”
Tré squeezed him in a hug. “That’s not an option.”
Brandon smiled at Tré’s insistence that he stay with him. At least that was one good thing that had come from all this drama. “You didn’t let me finish. Or...I can just pay the damn buyout.”
“Let’s hold on before you send them a year’s salary.”
“That really is the best option and you know it.”
Tré didn’t say anything to that. He just held him tight, pressing a comforting kiss to the nape of his neck. Brandon relaxed into the embrace, letting it soothe some of his frustrated tension away.
“Brandon...”
“No.”
“No? You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”
“Yes, I do.” Brandon looked over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “You were about to offer to help me pay the buyout.”
“Okay, so you did know. But what’s wrong with my offer?”
“I got myself into the mess by leaving FPW instead of manning up and talking to you. It’s not right you should have to pay my idiot tax.”
Tré frowned. “I thought I made it clear that I was just as much in the wrong for not speaking up too. Regardless, you’re not an id—”
Someone knocked on the door, interrupting him.
“See? The cosmos won’t let you finish that sentence. That’s how much of an idiot I am for screwing things up.” Brandon slid from between Tré’s legs and rose to answer the door. When he opened it, Devin strolled in without waiting to be invited.
“You guys weren’t about to bone, were you?”
“Uh... No.” Brandon frowned in confusion as he looked at his friend.
“Good.” Devin went over to flop down on the unoccupied bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. “What’s your PayPal?”
Brandon stood there, holding the door open, wondering why Devin was there and what he wanted. “What?”
Before Devin could repeat himself, Slade walked in.
“He said what’s your PayPal? Damn, B. Listen. I was in the hall and I heard him.” Slade had his phone out too.
Now Brandon was even more confused. He glanced over at Tré, who appeared just as lost. He looked back at Devin since he’d arrived first.
“What are you guys doing?”
“Helping you buy out your contract,” Devin answered with a cheeky grin.
Brandon was so shocked at that it took him a minute before he could speak to turn down the offer. “I appreciate it, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask,” Slade said. “We’re offering.”
Shaking his head, Brandon rejected them again. “No way, man. Besides, even between the four of us, that’s still a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars apiece. I can’t ask you to pay that much.”
“It’s not between the four of us,” Devin said from his spot lounging on the bed. He nodded toward the door.
Brandon turned just as Garrett came in, followed by Yasmina, Kenji, and Pollux. People kept coming, some of the refs, the ring announcer, a few of the crew and more wrestlers.
Devin stood on the bed and called out over everyone’s head. “What’s that PayPal, B?”
Shocked that this was happening, it took Brandon several seconds to remember his email. “Uh... BWilkesFlips at Gmail dot com.” After he gave out the address, everyone’s heads ducked down to their phones.
Someone finally tugged Brandon away from the door, flipping the latch so that it would stay open for the people still trickling in. A few minutes later, Brandon’s phone started dinging with email alerts as, one by one, the payments went through and he received the notifications.
Chance came in next. He cut through the crowd to sit at the little desk and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. After perching them on his nose, he took out a checkbook. The room grew quiet while he wrote, until Devin snorted.
“Really, Chancellor? You’re writing a check? In Bill Gates’s America and the Year of our Lord 2018?”
Chance turned around and looked at his boyfriend over the frame of his glasses. “I don’t have PayPal. And I’m sure Brandon doesn’t mind the method of my donation.” He tore off the check and held it out to Brandon.
Completely overcome at his co-workers’ generosity, Brandon made a joke to keep from getting emotional. “No, I don’t mind a check. As long as it’ll clear.”
Chance smiled, blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “It’ll clear.”
Brandon had just finished thanking Chance when one more person walked into the crowded hotel room: their boss and owner of Frontier Professional Wrestling, Alex Mercer.
“I didn’t have time to have one of those giant cardboard checks made.” He held out a crisp, pale-gray business check.
Brandon took it, the paper thick and smooth against his fingertips. He was almost afraid to look at the amount. When he did, his jaw dropped open in shock. “Fifteen thousand dollars!” Brandon shoved the check back at his boss. “Alex, I can’t accept this much.”
Alex didn’t take it back. “You can. I care about my talent. And if you’re ready to work, I’m happy to make that happen.”
“Wow. Just. Holy shit. Everybody. Thank you.” Suddenly light-headed, Brandon sank down into a squat and let his head hang between his knees. Lorena stood next to him, and she reached out to stroke a hand over his hair, crooning soothing little sounds as she did so. Brandon leaned over and hugged her leg, resting against her until the urge to faint passed. After a few moments, he managed to raise his head and look at Tré. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head down as he looked at his phone. “Tré, are you seeing this?”
Tré glanced up. “Sorry, I was sending my contribution to the clause.”
Slade groaned. “Oh, hell no. He just punned, Brandon. You’re going to have to cut him loose.”
Gentle laughter rippled through the room, while Brandon still squatted there in the middle of them all.
Tré got up and slipped through the crowd of wrestlers to reach him. Brandon released Lorena’s leg so she could step back as Tré grasped his elbows and eased him to his feet.
“I told you. You’re family and FPW is your home. We take care of our own.”
“We’re not letting Grand hold you hostage,” someone in the room said.
Brandon laughed at that comment before he looked at his lover, floored at the entire situation. “Did you know they were going to do this?”
“Nope.” Tré slung an arm around Brandon’s shoulders and grinned at all their co-workers. “They’re some sneaky bastards.”
Brandon glanced around the room. “Thank you all, so much. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I’m so happy that I’ll be able to get back in a FPW ring, and you guys are making it happen.” He paused, his chest tight with emotion. “Thank you,” he said with the deepest sincerity.
You’re welcome in various accents and a couple of different languages circled around the room.
Brandon grinned. “I get to wrestle with my family again.” He pumped his fist in the air. “You know what that means. Tré and I need to have some celebratory sex. So y’all got to go.” Still grinning, he went over and held the door open.
Amidst laughing, good-natured grumbling at getting kicked out, and kissy noises aimed at him and Tré, everyone filed from the room, leaving Brandon alone with his lover.
Once the door closed behind the last person, Brandon dropped his forehead against it with a thump. “I lied.”
“About what?”
“I didn’t kick them out because I wanted to have celebratory sex. I mean I do. But that wasn’t why they had to go.”
“Okay, why’d you make them leave?”
Brandon thumped his forehead against the door again before answering in a shaky voice. “I didn’t want them to see me break down and cry like a fucking baby.”
“Hey. Look at me,” Tré quietly ordered from across the room.
Brandon turned around to face his boyfriend, partner, and friend but stayed leaning against the door. Tré stood there, watching him with a gentle smile on his handsome face.
“Come here.”
Brandon straightened and went over to him. When they were toe to toe, Tré pulled him into a tight full-body hug. He closed his eyes and rested there against Tré’s chest, letting his boyfriend support most of his weight. Tears of gratitude and love teased at his lashes, trying to escape, while his throat grew tight as he fought to choke back the emotions.
“Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“They know you wanted to cry.”
Brandon sucked in a breath, letting it out in an embarrassed half-sigh, half-laugh. He gave up the fight and let some of the tears fall. “I know. Tré?”
“Yeah?”
“I still want to have celebratory sex.”
Tré laughed, the sound a familiar deep rumble, now even better because Brandon got to experience it against his own chest.
Brandon raised his chin, and Tré leaned down until their lips met. They kissed soft and slow, Tré’s big hands soothingly stroking up and down Brandon’s back. The warmth of sweet arousal quickly stiffened his cock and he felt an answering heat and hardness in his partner’s body. Brandon pressed closer. They were about to make love, and the delicious anticipation of it tingled over his skin. Brandon opened his eyes, looking up into the warm brown ones of his lover. “Will you top me tonight?”
Tré smiled before leaning in for another kiss. Then he whispered against Brandon’s lips. “Mmmm... I got you, baby.”
Tré turned Brandon in his arms and walked him over to the bed, his hard length pressing against Brandon’s back. Before they lay down, Tré undressed him, then pulled off his own clothes. They fell naked on the bed, Tré on top of Brandon, his muscular body settled between Brandon’s spread thighs.
Everything was soft and tender. Tré’s kisses, his touch over every inch of Brandon’s body. When Tré gently eased Brandon to his front, Brandon closed his eyes and went willingly, moaning softly as his lover cupped and squeezed his ass with loving hands. More tender touches followed as Tré eased a slick finger inside to prepare him. Brandon arched his hips up almost involuntarily, pleasure spiking through him when Tré brushed a finger over his prostate.
“Right...right there.” Brandon gasped. He started rolling his hips as Tré massaged that wonderful spot.
Tré groaned. “You look so gorgeous when you move like that.”
A smile curled Brandon’s lips. He loved the way Tré sounded just then, as though he were desperate for him. And if his man liked the way he looked right now... He continued rolling his hips, bowing his spine and spreading his legs wider as he did.
“Oh, fuck. I gotta be inside you, baby.” Tré took his fingers away to put on the condom and lube up.
Brandon looked back over his shoulder and wiggled his ass once. “Hurry.”
“You’re an awful tease,” Tré said as he smoothed the condom down his stiff cock.
Brandon started to reply, but choked off on a moan when Tré slowly pushed inside him. He popped his hips up just enough to be able to work a hand beneath him so he could stroke his cock. The fingers of his other hand clenched in the sheet as Tré rocked into him. It was so good, the heat of Tré at his back, the heavy weight of Tré’s balls pressing against his ass on every deep thrust. Brandon’s eyes drifted closed and his entire body tingled, toes curling as the pleasure rose and rose, held there...then started to fade.
Brandon’s eyes flashed open in a panic. Oh, crap. He wasn’t going to come. Why wasn’t he coming? Everything felt amazing, Tré thick and hard inside him, his prostate carefully stimulated with each stroke. Tré took such good care of him in bed because he cared about him. Cared enough to help him get back on FPW TV. In fact, nearly the entire roster cared. Of course, he should have never put them in a position to have to demonstrate it in the first place. It was his fault for screwing things up by going to that bullshit company.
Damn it! Brandon squeezed his eyes closed tight, trying to shut off his brain. But it was too late, he was entirely in his head and out of the moment with Tré. All of the previously thrilling sensations singing through him dulled to a low hum that he knew from experience would take a long time to pick back up, if they did at all.
“You almost there, baby?” Tré asked in a rough and desperate voice. He moved faster, clearly close to the edge.
“Yeah,” Brandon mumbled his answer into the pillow. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t have a choice. Guilt eating at him as he called himself every terrible name he could think of, Brandon faked his orgasm.
