Once more, Reese Tavoularis’s face appeared in his mind, and for a brief moment, he let the fantasy consume him. It wasn’t easy considering the significant differences between Reese and Cyrus. Where Cyrus was stick thin, Reese was muscled and an inch or so taller than Brantley. But it was hot to imagine, if only because he knew it would never come to be.
Cyrus cried out, his body jerking, a signal that he was coming.
Brantley impaled the man again and again, gritting his teeth until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He came with a final drive of his hips, and when his cock was spent, he pulled out, flopping onto his back.
“Good to see you too, man,” Cyrus said softly.
Smiling to himself, Brantley reached over, patted Cyrus’s thigh. “Always.”
It was all he could do to clean himself up before they both succumbed to sleep.
Brantley was up before the sun, slipping out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee, then hit the guest bathroom for a quick rinse in the shower. Once he was finished, he grabbed a pair of shorts out of the dryer, dragged them on, along with his Nikes, then headed out the door.
Like usual, he spent the first hour of his day pounding the pavement. Running was something he did to clear his head. It had the added benefit of keeping him in shape, but he rarely gave that a second thought. Or rather, he hadn’t before recently. Now that he was a civilian, he was more cognizant of the things that had come naturally while he’d been in the military. These days he had to put forth the effort of maintaining the simple things—like keeping his edge as well as his physique—or they would fall by the wayside.
Once he was back at the house, he found Cyrus sitting on a barstool, a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Mornin’,” he greeted absently, heading for the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
“Anyone ever tell you mornin’ starts when the sun comes up?” Cyrus grumbled.
Brantley smiled against the lip of the bottle, watching his friend drag a hand through his shaggy dark hair. He looked tired, but Cyrus generally did. It wasn’t necessarily the best look for him, but it did little to detract from the guy’s classic good looks. And it was true, Cyrus was a damn fine-looking man. Probably one of the main reasons Brantley invited him into his bed. Of course, the fact he was pretty damn skilled with his mouth was a bonus.
Ignoring the way his cock stirred at the idea of those lips wrapped around him, Brantley turned his attention to making breakfast. He pulled out eggs, a bell pepper, some ham. While Cyrus attempted to wake up fully, Brantley prepared the omelets, then passed one over to his friend.
As the fork went into Cyrus’s mouth, Brantley voiced the one and only question on his mind. “Did you know JJ’s workin’ for Dante?”
Dark brown eyes lifted to his face as Cyrus chewed slowly. The man had a shitty poker face, always had.
“Any reason you didn’t tell me?” he prompted, seeing the truth in Cyrus’s cautious gaze.
“Because I knew you’d lose your shit,” he muttered before taking another bite.
“Lose my shit?” He huffed, then conceded. “Fine. I’m not happy about it. That fucker hit her, man.”
“They both say it was an accident. Why don’t you believe that?”
Truth was, Brantley couldn’t explain it. Someone had once tried to convince him he was actually jealous of Dante’s previous relationship with JJ. That was the one thing he knew wasn’t true. As far as their friendship, Brantley knew JJ had never trusted Dante the way she trusted him. As for anything intimate, that was a moot point. From the time he was old enough to acknowledge any sort of physical attraction, he’d known he was different than most. Even before he understood what being gay or straight really was, Brantley had accepted that he was attracted to the same sex.
Not that he’d felt the need to make that public, but he hadn’t hidden it, either. He’d lived by the don’t ask, don’t tell rule as well as the equally important don’t shit where you sleep. Meaning he’d never engaged in any sort of relationship with those he worked with. Still believed it was a bad idea.
“Look,” Cyrus said, sounding as though he felt the need to apologize, “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I know for a fact they’re not dating—”
“How do you know this?”
“’Cause she told me. And yes, I asked. Damn it, Brantley. She’s my friend, too. The thought of Dante hittin’ her pisses me off, too. And I trust she’s tellin’ the truth. It was an accident. Not to mention, in the past. JJ’s only involved with him when a job comes up.”
