The Brotherhood Vol. 4

The Brotherhood Vol. 4
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Willa Okati
Excerpt from Nothing Like Experience

“Buckle your seatbelt.” Damned if the short words weren’t all Allen trusted himself with. Simple sentences were great. Monosyllables would be best. With a guy like Chance in his car, nothing more than polite, mundane, and completely boring conversation would be the absolute safest course.

Now why don’t I think that’s within the realm of possibility while I’m in the company of this guy? Allen thought as Chance wriggled a little on the smooth leather seat, the perfect curve of his ass settling in as if the passenger side had been made for him.

Chance gave Allen a questioning look before reaching for the safety harness. “I always wear my seatbelt,” he said in that voice which made Allen want to throw Chance down on the floor, cover him with chocolate sauce, and lick it all off. “I know it’s safer.”

“Also the law,” Allen bit out. Almost all single syllables; good. “Let’s go.” Hey, I’m not bad at this. See? I can even do it when I think. Although I’d better not ramble on to myself -- damn, two syllables -- or he’ll start staring -- damn -- like he is now.

Sure enough, those big blue eyes were gazing at Allen in frank curiosity. Allen swallowed down a lump in his throat. He’d seen that kind of look before in a Siberian Husky’s eyes. The dog had been sweet as sugar pie, but he’d still given Allen a measuring look, as if trying to decide whether he was lunch, a friend, or just plain nuts.

Allen had an uncomfortable feeling that Chance was leaning toward the “nuts” side. “I’m not angry,” he said, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “Where to?”

Chance clicked the end of his seatbelt into the holster and nodded. Still very much wary. “It’s not far. Since, um, the guys who showed up weren’t any help… do you think I can call a tow truck this late to come and get my Bug?” He took on a worried air. “I don’t have much. The car is the biggest thing I own.”

Spot chose that moment to whine and poke his muzzle up between the seats. Allen automatically reached out to pet the animal. As luck would have it, Chance chose that moment to do the exact same thing. When their fingers collided, Allen sat utterly still. Logic told him to move his hand back, but his idiotic body wasn’t listening. It felt the snap! crackle! pop! of electricity between himself and Chance and told Allen in no uncertain terms Uh-uh. We’re staying right here.

Chance made a small noise Allen couldn’t interpret and began rubbing Spot’s nose. The way his fingers flexed and moved beneath Allen’s couldn’t help but make Allen wonder what it would be like if Chance’s hand were on the younger man’s no-doubt thick, solid cock, Allen’s hand wrapped around his, stroking hard up and down and…

“Whoa, momma,” Allen whispered out loud. Then he mentally smacked himself. Way to go in the not-insane department. But then again, what did he care? He was driving Chance home, dropping him and Spot off, and with any luck he’d never see the kid again. He didn’t think Chance would jump out of a moving car even if he was riding with a madman… but he wasn’t all too sure how Chance would react to the nascent erection starting to prod at the back of Allen’s zipper.

So, why did he care?

I don’t, Allen told himself firmly. He readjusted himself with his free hand for a little ease and to hide his condition, knowing that the move made him look like a jackass but frankly not caring all that much. “Ready?” he asked, moving his other hand to the keys dangling from the ignition. “You have to tell me where to go.”

Chance ducked his head, peeking up through his eyelashes. “It’s not far, but it’s kind of complicated to get there,” he murmured. “A lot of twists and turns. I’m really, really sorry.”

Allen shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’d just have to be careful about retracing his steps. He started to turn the key, and then a thought occurred to him. “Chance?”

Chance was still looking at him through that thick fan of lashes. “Yes?” he asked, his voice tremulous, as if he expected to be hit. A large part of Allen’s emotions directed themselves in the direction of serious ass-kickings for those who had made Chance this uncertain of himself.

With those thoughts in mind, Allen tried to gentle his voice. “How far is ‘far,’ exactly?”

Chance turned the most appealing shade of pink yet. He was a bigger blusher than anyone Allen had ever seen, and Allen hadn’t ever thought he’d see someone topping that gentle bear, David, another member of the Brotherhood. Okay, not topping him, topping, because that led his mind down all sorts of paths he just didn’t feel up to navigating at the moment.

“It’s outside the city,” Chance said apologetically. “But we’re pretty close to the outskirts anyway, right?”

“Actually no,” Allen pointed out, proud of himself for remaining calm. “We’re in the dead center, hence the name of the veterinary clinic. We cover the region. Regional. Seeing a connection?”

Chance’s flush darkened. “It didn’t seem like that far when I was driving in,” he apologized. “But I guess I got distracted.”

“I’d never have guessed,” Allen said dryly. “Okay, which direction do I head in?”

“Out of the parking lot first.”

Allen cut Chance a sharp glance. Was the kid actually making a joke? “Very funny,” he replied just in case Chance had been teasing. “Don’t nettle the driver. Which way, once we’re on the road?”

Chance shifted again in his seat, that damnable leather molding against his ass. Allen couldn’t help staring. Forget the chocolate sauce; he’d just like to throw Chance down and lick him without condiments.

Allen’s erection agreed. Behave! he scolded himself.

If his cock had been capable, Allen knew it would have laughed at him. He grimly acknowledged the surge of blood to his prick as inescapable, repositioned himself once more and turned the key in the ignition. “Okay. Heading out now. You navigate and tell me where to turn.”

Chance nodded demurely, then added, in that too-tempting voice, “Yes.” He rubbed Spot’s nose again, smiling gently as the dog lapped his fingers. “Sit, Spot. Sit.”

“Good dog,” Allen wasn’t able to stop himself from saying. At Chance’s puzzled expression, he qualified his statement. “You know, like Ubu? Sit, Ubu, sit? Good dog?”

Chance frowned and shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Allen said, feeling glum and old. But, hey, a little unbridgeable culture gap was all to the good, right? If Chance didn’t get his jokes, it was a fair bet that Chance wouldn’t get him either. No getting of Chance. The logic was flawless.

Allen shifted gears and began to drive. A thick fog was settling over Charleston in the evening as the air outside cooled, making it increasingly difficult to see as he manipulated his car in and out of traffic. He spared a devout prayer of thanks to whichever saint took care of men in trouble that Chance was quiet except for an occasional “turn here” and “turn there, after the stoplight.”

His cock decided it wasn’t happy with the lack of conversation. It wanted more of Chance, to say nothing of some additional physical contact, and it nudged upward insistently as if to draw Allen’s attention to his condition. Allen resisted the urge to thwap himself. One, because it would hurt like hell. He knew this much from past experience. Two, because it would draw Chance’s attention to his burgeoning hard-on, and that wouldn’t do in all kinds of ways. Oh, no.

Hell, he didn’t even know for sure that Chance was gay. Gay and interested in a man like Allen. There wasn’t any kind of magical Rainbow Connection going to happen between them. Not lovers, possibly dreamers -- damn it -- but just him. Driving a client home. See? I can be good, even if certain parts of my anatomy disagree.

Shame to waste a hard-on, though, wasn’t it?