New Life Ch. 07

Family dinners at the MacIntoshes had been a highlight of my week. Having their unwavering support throughout our relationship had been a gift to Breeze and me, a buffer against the usual pressures of living an out life. Sunday dinner had always been a safe space, and that didn't change when my father joined the party. Granted, spending time with us at the hospital helped normalize the situation but having Mac and Margie treat our relationship as if it was nothing special forced him to do the same. When he finally worked up the nerve to visit us in our own space, he wasn't thrown when Brion kissed me goodbye on his way out the door.

The precedent had been set, so when his older sister called that afternoon to suggest that we curtail our PDA for the evening Brion was understandably annoyed. "It's bad enough Bri's bringing home that white boy. I just don't think Terry is prepared..."

"Man, fuck Terry," was Brion's simple response before ending the call. But of course, that wasn't the end of it. Brenda called back twice before ultimately suggesting that I skip the tradition altogether. "So, which one of yall got a problem with me and mine, you or Terry," he asked, well demanded, and Brenda let out a quiet breath.

"Don't be like that Brion, you know I love you and Neville. And I've told you more than once how happy I am for both of you...it's just...Terry's from a different time..."

"So everybody gotta tiptoe around because you married a simple-minded jackass. Naw, fuck that, fuck him, and fuck you too for even suggesting I treat my man any different because your husband is a bitch. If it's about him, leave his punk ass home. Ain't nobody gonna miss him," he said and again Brenda let out a heavy breath.

"And how's that fair to me. You guys always exclude me..."

"It ain't about you Brenda, it's him and I'm tired of explaining that shit to you. So, no, I won't pretend not to love Neville because it might make Terry uncomfortable," he said, the last in a mock of her sometimes whiny tone. "Let him know he can catch these hands if he want to..."

"God I hate this family sometimes," Brenda said, though she laughed a little and Brion followed suit. "All I want is to have a nice night with my people...all my people."

"And you think I don't. I love this man Brenda, the same way you love Terry and Brielle love Graham but nobody ever asked you to curb that to save somebody else's feelings. I expect this from the world...anticipate it, but you, my own big sister who promised to always have my back. That's not cool Brenda and you know it. The fact that you even thought to come at me with this bullshit, knowing everything me and this man been through...it's almost worse than the bullets Brenda," he said with tears in his eyes and I heard her breath catch on the other end. There was a long pause and Brion looked to me, his face a mix of rage and desperation before the sound of sniffles came through the line. "You're my sister and I love you but I'm not about to let you or your husband affect how I live my life..."

"And you shouldn't," was her tearful interruption but still Breeze frowned. He knew his sister. "Can you just try and be nice...for me?"

"Don't you think that's something you should be asking him?"

"He's not the one threatening assault," she said in her attorney tone and Brion rolled his eyes. "I'm serious boy... and you better tell Daddy too. I'm not dealing with yall on top of Bri's flighty ass..."

"Nope, I don't want none of that," he said before ending the call and hurling his phone back into the house. I heard it bounce off of something soft before it landed and I shook my head at him. "Remember you used to complain about being an only child all the time, well I'd gladly give you one of mine..."

"I'm sure Brielle wouldn't mind having another big brother," I said smirking and he rolled his eyes. "And you asked me if I was gonna be aight...maybe I should just stay home."

"Now, don't you start that bullshit..."

"It's not bullshit Brion," I said, finally looking up from the pegboard I'd been "cutting" since he came into the garage. "You know me, bud. I'm not with all that rah-rah shit..."

"And that's why you got me," he said proudly and I couldn't help my grin. "Even if you wasn't my man, I'd hold you down Nev. You know that."

"So, I'm your man now," I said still grinning and he hopped down off his perch on my workbench, brows furrowed. "What? I'm saying you never called me that before. Liked that 'me and mine' bit too..."

"Oh, so you feeling yourself now huh," he asked with that cocky smirk of his and I shrugged my shoulders. "You should be, but don't try to change the subject. You're coming tonight and I'll do my best to keep my hands to myself...at least as far as Terry is concerned," he said as he took my face in his hands. "I meant what I said bruh," came before he kissed me, then pressed his forehead to mine. "Ain't nobody gonna stop me from doing me...or you for that matter."

"Okay," was all I could say with my stomach doing flip flops from his fingers tracing the spot behind my ears. And he knew it, smirked as he kissed me again.

"Shower in an hour?"

"Yes, please," I said before he disappeared into the house.

As it turned out, I couldn't wait that long. Once I noticed the rhythmic thud coming from inside, my tongue may have come out to wet my lips and blood rushed to my crotch. The heavy bag was a new addition to Breeze's home gym, and of all his workouts, it affected me most. The thought of him, no doubt shirtless dancing around the heavy bag, was all I could think of as I rushed through the last of my build. Unfortunately, it was as therapeutic for him as it was aerobic and I wasn't sure which brought him to it. He might not have enjoyed the conversation with his sister, but I was proud of him for standing up for us. And the things he said about me, I wanted to pin him down the first time he called me his man. Busying myself with some other mundane task usually kept me off him but I was beginning to find myself less and less concerned with how level the plywood slat that would hold my screwdrivers would be. The hooks that would hold my various hammers and mallets went up haphazardly because I couldn't leave a job unfinished before interrupting him. Brion didn't need any more fodder for his teasing of my lifelong infatuation with him. The fact that he gave himself to me the night before meant very little in that regard. I would always be his puppy, sniffing around for his affection regardless of how freely he gave it.

And with him working up a sweat in the basement, his affection wasn't the only thing I'd be sniffing. With all the hooks in place, all my home tools hastily stowed away, I headed outside to use the hose to rinse the sawdust off my hands and arms before letting Bruiser into the backyard from the fences on the other side of the lawn. Back in the garage, I shut the door and stripped down to my boxers so as not to track debris into the house before heading downstairs.

As usual, Breeze had his headphones on, no shirt, and a pair of sneakers that had seen better days. His shorts were thin, so thin that the thick elastic straps of his jock were unmistakable as he bounced around on his tiptoes. His back to me, I took a moment to marvel at the ripple that ran up from his low back to his shoulders as he let off a combination of jabs and uppercuts. Then he paused to rock his shoulders a little to whatever he was listening to and catch his breath. He shuffled his feet a few beats and was back at it, slowly working his way around the heavy bag until he saw me standing at the base of the stairs and winked. But he didn't stop his punches even as his eyes shifted down, no doubt noticing the tent in my boxer briefs.

"Yo, hold this for me," he shouted over his music and I shook my head, even as I moved to do his bidding. He continued shuffling his feet as I settled behind the heavy bag, holding it steady against my chest. "Good looking out," he said and blew me a kiss before he started punching again, all the while my eyes were glued to his chest. The rise and fall of his pecs as he paced his breaths. The remnants of last night still visible. The tightening of his abs as he threw each punch. Brion was a beautiful specimen of a man, and he knew it, pausing occasionally to make his pecs jump before letting off a barrage of blows that I felt through the bag. His caramel skin was slick with sweat at this point and the dank air in the basement was heavy with his scent but I couldn't do anything until he stopped for fear that he might miss. The last thing we needed was me going to family dinner with a shiner to explain.

"Do we need to talk," I shouted and he furrowed his brows a moment, then shook his head to dislodge his earbuds.

"Naw, bruh...I'm good," he said between pants as he landed a quick jab-cross-jab then switched his stance to southpaw. "Why you say that?"

"I'm saying...that escalated pretty quick..."

"Ain't nobody worried about that nigga," he said before delivering a final barrage punctuated by a haymaker that came from the soles of his feet. I stumbled back a step or two as he moved away, bouncing from one foot to the other. "He'll say something ignorant and Brenda'll get mad at him but start something with somebody else to distract us, one of 'em goin' cry, Pop'll either kick us out or go in the basement. Stop acting like you don't know," he said, waving his hand at me before grabbing his rope from a hook on one of the support beams. "That ain't why you came down here anyway," he said, smirking as he unfurled the rope. Just before he started to jump, Brion dropped his shorts and kicked them over to me.

"You ain't shit," I lied, and of course he laughed it off. Brion held my gaze as he gradually picked up the pace. Unfortunately, I lost the staring contest to his cock, bouncing hard in the pouch of his jock.

"That's why your mouth watering...cause I ain't shit," he said between breaths, that cocky smirk on his lips.

"Naw, my mouth watering 'cause you been stingy with the dick lately," was my answer as I pulled my own dick free of my shorts. Already rock hard and throbbing, it only took a couple strokes to release the first few drops of precum. "Spending so much time hanging off mine, like I don't need it too..."

"That's how you feel huh," he said absently as he moved from simple jumps to heel taps and still his pace quickened. "You wasn't saying that last night."

"I'm not about to turn down an invitation to bust a pretty boy open," I said and spit into my fingertips. If I wanted him to take me like he used to, I'd have to do a little more than beat off. "And I thank you for that...truly, I do," I said, fisting my cock and balls away from my hole. I made a show of wetting my fingers, then pressed the first two against my pucker. He muttered something under his breath but didn't stop jumping. "I'm saying...that's not how you got me," I told him as I worked my middle finger up my ass. It was awkward but effective.

"I had a fuckin' plan bruh," he said, tossing the rope aside. Breeze yanked off his gloves, before crossing to where I sat. "You wasn't supposed to get nothing 'til later. Talkin' 'bout maybe you should stay home..."

"So, we do need to talk," I said mid-stroke and shift my eyes up to meet his. His jaw clenched, nostrils flared, I was starting to think I misjudged the situation. Then he charged me, forcing me down onto my back and straddled my chest.

"No I'm gonna talk and you goin' listen," he said, dragging his swampy ass across my face. The jock was still mostly in place, though his cock made it's way outside the pouch at this point. He braced himself on the bar as he roughly ground his ass against my face and I wasn't sure whether or not this was supposed to be a punishment. And I dare not ask. Even if I wanted to, I could barely breathe enough to make words. "Them days of you hiding in the background are over mufucka," he grunted as he fisted his cock and stood up. His other hand gripped my lower jaw, forcing my mouth open as I gasped, and shoved his cock in to the hilt. "Ain't no man of mine gonna let some bitch ass nigga tell us how to live. I don't give a fuck if you ain't for the rah-rah shit bruh...you mine and I'mma go to war for you and I don't give a fuck who on the other side. You hear me," he said but all I could do was gag as he pounded into my throat. "But I'm not bout to be out here by myself," he said and unceremoniously yanked his cock free of my maw. "And I know how I got you nigga, but do you know how you got me," he said and gave my dick a hard slap as he stood, leaving me breathless on the bench. "You came home solid bruh...and I'm not talking about your body. That first kiss man...the balls it took for you to show me who you are...who you really are and you goin' let some limp dick asshole take that away," he said, stepping away from me and I started to sit up, but he shoved me back down with a fist to my chest.

"It's not that serious..."

"Fuck if it ain't," he yelled over his shoulder, rifling through the random file cabinet he kept under the stairs. "You spent your life dancing around ya Daddy and Prudence and football and all that other bullshit. Now you willing to relinquish that to appease some mufucka that nobody like. Fuck that shit," he said, slamming the drawer shut. I heard him take a few deep breaths before he came back to the bench and lifted the bar away, his cock still jutting out in front of him. "That high siddity asshole has been ruining MacIntosh family events for years and that shit stops tonight."

"That supposed to be my job now," I asked, only half-joking, and it was enough for him to crack a smile. "It's not like it's every Sunday," I tried to say but he sat on my face again, unwilling to hear any more of my protests.

"Didn't I say I was talking," he said but his tone was softer now and this facesit wasn't the smothering kind. It was more of an invitation and I gladly obliged him, slurping up every bit of him that I could reach. Once my tongue found the patch of softness behind his balls, there were only grunts and swears as he slow-rode my face. And it seemed for a moment that Breeze had lost his train of thought and given in to the moment. "It's this Sunday and Christmas and any other time we have to see him. He is who he is, Nev," he said eventually and stood up again. "And he ain't worth accommodating."

I tried not to pout as he waddled backward to position himself above my erection. One hand on my cock, he used the other to flip the cap off the lube he palmed and poured a healthy amount down my shaft. "You sure about that," I asked quietly and he rolled his eyes as he positioned himself for entry. "I'm saying...you said you was sore..."

"I was," was his answering grunt as he slowly worked himself down my shaft. He took a few breaths to settle himself and lube his own cock. I grabbed it on my own, pressed it against my stomach as his hips began to move in my lap.

The ride was slow and deliberate with him gently controlling all the action. When I wasn't applying enough pressure, he yanked the bench into the upright position so his cock was sandwiched between us while he rocked his hip back and forth. He held me tight, one arm around the back of my neck while the other hand was laced with mine around his back. And when he noticed me nosing around his sweaty bicep, Brion lifted his arm to bury my face in his fetid armpit. It was enough to send me over the edge but his climax didn't come until he felt my tongue lapping at the thick tuft of hair.

"Fuck bruh," he muttered between pants as he shuddered in my lap, fingertips dug into my shoulder. I was too busy indulging in his scent to comment and my attempts to keep him in place were thwarted by his sweat-slick skin. "Remind me not to eat nothing too spicy tonight," he said as he finally slipped from my grasp, forcing my pout to return, but all he did was laugh as he waddled off to the stairs.

I followed behind him of course and did my best to keep my hands to myself while we cleaned up and got dressed which wasn't that difficult with Bruiser looking sad on the other side of the sliding glass doors. Brion was nice enough to let him back in and toss him his bone before we headed out with me behind the wheel. And despite his nonchalance, I couldn't help list all the many ways this night could go terribly wrong.

*******

"All I'm saying is not six months ago you were singing "I'm every woman", talking about how marriage was a tool of the patriarchy," Brenda said, absently as she pushed her rice and peas into a neat little pile. Brion and Mac both muttered under their breath before Brenda rolled her eye, "I'm not trying to start nothing, it's just a quick turn around."

"It was," Brielle said, grinning at Graham a moment before she shifted her eyes to her sister across the table. "And I still do both those things, you obviously don't read my blog..."

"Bitch, nobody reads your blog..."

"You right," Brielle said laughing, and the rest of us breathed a sigh of relief. "But really, I still believe marriage is used to subjugate women but not all marriages are that. Mommy and Daddy weren't like that and honestly, I want what they had...shit I deserve that..."

"And you believe this...person to be capable," Terry said dismissively and Brielle rolled her eyes. "You've known each other, what, six months?"

"Baby I told you they met at some nerdy computer camp when they were in high school...He's been Facebook stalking her ever since," Brenda corrected with a wink at Bri, who licked her tongue out at her sister. "Ain't that right Mr. Ogden?"

"It's not wrong Mrs. Cartwright," Graham said with a shrug, making all the women giggle. He took Brielle's hand, their fingers laced together and just looked at her a moment before she gave a subtle shake of her heard. I glanced across the table at Brion, jaw clenched and nostrils flared and shook my head. He took one last bite of his curry goat, placed his silverware down on the table and pushed his plate away. We locked eyes for a moment before he shifted his gaze to Graham. "Actually it won't be Ogden too much longer," he said and Brion threw up his hands.

"Wait 'til after we eat...that's what I said right," Brion muttered as he collected our plates.

"If that ain't the dumbest bullshit I ever heard," came from Brenda and Brielle dropped her fork on the table. "You know this house is the only family asset and this neighborhood ain't getting gentrified anytime soon..."

"Fuck you Brenda just because you settled for the first selfish piece of shit who sniffed around your siddity ass don't mean everybody gotta do the same!"

"One hour thirty-three minutes," Mac said with a glance at his watch before he began helping Margie clear the food from the table as his daughters' playful debate moved swiftly towards a tussle.

And though both women did well remaining in their seats, Breeze still moved to take his father's chair to ensure no one made any attempts to jump across. Occasionally, he'd bite back a smirk at one insult or another but for the most part, he remained stone-faced so as not to draw the attention of the vipers on either side of him. Terry did the same, his eyes on his phone as his wife laid into her sister for every nontraditional decision she made ever in life. Six years at three different universities for a degree she wasn't using to the year she spent bumming around the Caribbean to her "internet job." It didn't matter that Brielle spoke four languages, fluent in two others besides English. Or that the photo series she produced from her "year off" was critically acclaimed and widely published. Nor did it matter that her travel blog had several major corporate sponsorships. According to Brenda, Brielle never did what she was "supposed to" and eventually it would come back to bite her in the ass.