Love Is Proud Read online

  “Why did you come here?” Chris asked as Nick led the mare into one of the stalls.

  “I had to,” Nick said. He hung the tack on the wall and set about getting Rhiannon settled with food and water for the night.

  “Had to?”

  “Yep.”

  Chris waited until the man finished and locked the stall door before continuing. He trailed behind Nick toward the Ford. “Out of all the damn places in this country, you just had to show up here?”

  Nick sighed, hand resting on the driver’s side door. He didn’t look at Chris. “Yes, Chris. I had to come here.”

  “Why?”

  Nick glanced over one shoulder at him, those damned sunglasses little protection from that gaze. “To find someone.”

  Well, if that wasn’t fucking cryptic. Chris scowled and turned, fully intending to leave the ass where he stood. A hand caught his elbow, and he shot Nick a glare.

  “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

  Chris managed to loosen his jaw with considerable effort. He nodded, more a jerk of his head, really. “Ditto.”

  “Dinner?”

  One eyebrow rose. “Dinner?”

  “My treat,” Nick said with a glimmer of a smile.

  Chris had no idea how smart that would be. They’d parted ways once when things got a bit tense during a meal. He’d never spoken a word of how he felt to Nick, and the man hadn’t seemed inclined to give a damn when he’d invited a fling to what should’ve been a dinner between the two of them. That had been ten years ago.

  “Just us?”

  Nick nodded. “I promise.”

  Chris groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, praying he wasn’t agreeing to a bad idea. “All right. Where?”

  “Logan’s?”

  Chris didn’t know whether to be happy or worried that Nick actually remembered his favorite steakhouse. “Fine. I’ll meet you there at seven.”

  Nick’s smile made something in Chris tighten. “See you then.” He let go and headed back to his Ford.

  Chris mentally kicked himself in the ass before going to his own truck. Dinner had the potential to be good…or fucking disastrous. As he slipped into the seat, buckled, and started up the truck, he wondered who the hell Nick came all the way down here to see. The man had no family in Alabama; they were all in Colorado. Shaking his head, Chris started for home. He had an hour and a half to get ready before he had to be at Logan’s Roadhouse in Florence. If he was lucky, he could jerk off in the shower. Anything to avoid showing up for dinner with Nick while sporting a hard-on.

  * * * *

  As he stepped into Logan’s, Chris felt a good bit calmer than he had earlier. Of course, that all changed when he spotted Nick at one of the tables. Dressed in a black button-down shirt and equally dark jeans, he truly was a sight to behold. His hat sat on the table beside him, and he cradled a drink between hands calloused from hard work. If anything, Chris knew the man didn’t slouch when it came to working. Steeling himself, Chris headed over to the table.

  “Hey.”

  Green eyes, haunted by something Chris couldn’t quite put a name to, rose to meet Chris’s. “I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”

  Chris sat down and ordered a beer when the waitress came by. Once she left, he studied Nick. The man really hadn’t changed in ten years. Well, looks, anyway. His demeanor bewildered Chris more than the man’s reason for coming all the way to Alabama.

  “So—”

  “I have something I need to tell you,” Nick interrupted.

  Chris blinked, nodded. The waitress set his beer down, and they ordered steak dinners before she disappeared again. “Okay…shoot.”

  Nick stared down into his glass, which Chris realized was only water. Nick never had been the drinking type. “When I said I came down here to find someone, I meant you.”

  Chris licked his lips, unsure what to think about the revelation. Nick had already apologized. What else could Nick possibly tell—

  “And that I’m gay.”

  It took considerable effort for Chris to close his mouth. His heart thundered, and the restaurant grew uncomfortably warm. Nick had never even registered on his gaydar, but, then again, there were things Chris simply never understood about a man he’d fallen head over heels for years ago.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said.

  “For what? Being gay? Dude…” Chris gestured to himself.

  Nick shook his head. “Not that. Well, not entirely.” He sat back when their food arrived and waited until the waitress left before continuing. “If I don’t come out and tell you the rest now, I’m likely to regret it.”

  Chris forced himself to eat, though he honestly didn’t taste much. Nick never got this way before, and the fact that he was now made Chris wonder what the hell the man hid behind such a strong lock and key.

  “I’m not going to judge you,” Chris said. “You said you’re sorry. I forgive you. Whatever you tell me now, it’s not going to make me hate you. Hell, Nick, I’ve never hated you.”

  Those eyes met his, the fear in them surprising Chris. What the fuck?

  “Do you remember that time we went camping in DeSoto State Park when we were about seventeen or so?”

  “Yeah, I remember. You were acting weird, but I figured it was because your folks were going through that nasty divorce.”

  Nick shifted and tugged out his wallet. He pulled out a picture and slid it across the table. Chris stared at himself in the picture, snoozing and halfway cocooned in a sleeping bag.

  “It’s the only picture I’ve kept.”

  Chris’s gaze shot back up to Nick. “Why?”

  Nick stared down at his plate as he cut his steak. “Hard to explain.”

  Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on swept through Chris, chasing away his appetite. He’d had no idea about Nick’s sexuality back then, but if he had known, things would have turned out quite different.

  “My dad went back to Colorado,” Nick said without looking up. “He wanted me to go with him, but I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?” Chris was surprised he got even that much out. His mouth felt like sandpaper.

  “Honestly? I needed to see you.”

  Chris had no idea what to say.

  “Say something?”

  “I’m just trying to process everything,” Chris admitted. “You knew, even then, I liked guys. Why did you think I’d have a problem with you?”

  “Because my dad would have flipped if he found out,” Nick said with a quick glance up before looking back down again. “So would yours.”

  That made sense. Neither of their fathers were known for accepting such…lifestyles. Hell, Chris’s dad had simply vanished as soon as Chris came out.

  “Can I ask you something?” At Nick’s nod, Chris took a deep breath. “You said you’re gay. So why the women over the years?”

  Nick cleared his throat and pushed his empty plate away. “That’s the rest I need to tell you. What I wanted was not available.”

  “Huh?”

  “You.”

  Chris froze.

  “From the moment we first met as kids, I knew you were it. When I found out you were gay, I thought maybe I could have a chance. But when you never expressed anything like that toward me, I figured…” Nick shrugged. “I didn’t want to be with another guy, and females were simply more available.”

  Time started back up, but Chris wasn’t sure if his brain—or his heart, for that matter—noticed. He’d been a fucking idiot. All those years of pining for Nick, and all he’d had to do was admit how he felt.

  “Look, I’m sorry if—”

  Chris grabbed the back of Nick’s neck and jerked the man in for a kiss. The table bumped between them. Chris thought he might have heard a few less-than-savory comments from their fellow diners, but he didn’t give a damn. Nick’s lips parted, and a soft moan filled Chris.

  “I don’t understand,” Nick murmured.

  Chris slapped two twenties on the table over
the bill and stood. He caught Nick’s hand and tugged the man out of the booth. He had to get them out of there, and fast, before he went insane. Hat in hand, Nick didn’t protest when Chris dragged him out the door. Their trucks sat next to one another across the parking lot. As soon as they reached them, Chris shoved Nick against the man’s Ford and kissed him again.

  “Follow me.”

  At Nick’s mute nod, Chris climbed into his own vehicle. Nick, looking more than a bit dazed, did the same.

  * * * *

  Home crept up on him. Which probably should’ve freaked Chris out. He parked the truck and stared in the rearview mirror at the headlights pulling up behind him. Nick. The man he’d been best friends with forever, the man he’d fallen in love with ages ago. A part of Chris wanted to scream at how much time they’d lost thanks to their mutual stupidity. Another part wanted to drag Nick inside, slam the door, and tell the whole damn world to fuck off.

  Chris got out and waited for Nick before leading the way into his house. It felt surreal. Like he watched someone else walking into his home. The door shut behind them, and then strong hands caught his hips, tugging him back against a body he swore he knew better than his own.

  “Please tell me this is real,” Nick murmured in Chris’s right ear.

  Not quite trusting himself to speak yet, Chris turned and looped his arms around Nick’s neck before taking another kiss. This time, he went slower, easier, savoring every taste, every moan, every stroke from Nick’s tongue. He couldn’t believe it was happening either. It felt like the world’s most lucid dream. Breaking the kiss, he smiled and took Nick’s hand before starting down the hallway.

  They didn’t bother turning on the bedroom light. The nightlight in the bathroom shone bright enough for Chris to see every square inch of flesh as he began silently unbuttoning Nick’s shirt. Nick worked on their jeans, moving far slower than Chris would have.

  “Nervous?” Nick asked him.

  Chris stopped for a moment and looked into those greener-than-green eyes. “No? Yes? Hell, I’m still praying this isn’t a dream.”

  Nick chuckled and shrugged his shirt off. Then he tugged Chris’s off and tossed it onto the floor. “Ditto.” He slid one fingertip down Chris’s torso, following the faint trail of light brown hair to where it disappeared beneath the open waistband of Chris’s jeans. “A part of me wants to just throw you on the bed and get on with it.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “Fear that it’ll change everything,” Nick said.

  Hooking a finger on Nick’s jeans, Chris smiled and began backing up to the bed. “Things will change. But for the better.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’m willing to risk it,” Chris said. “Nick, I’ve been in love with you for a long time. If anyone decides this is a bad idea later, it’ll be you.”

  Chris sat down and lured Nick between his legs. He never took his gaze off of Nick’s as he tugged the man’s jeans down. Nick seemed to stop breathing for the briefest moment. Chris finally peeled Nick’s underwear off of the most delicious cock he’d ever seen. Nick sucked in a sharp breath and jerked when Chris wrapped his fingers around the shaft.

  “Chris…” Nick’s voice went husky, rough as gravel. Chris sucked the head of Nick’s cock into his mouth and hummed. “Fuck.”

  Nick’s flavor burst over Chris’s tongue. Musky, the slightest hint of soap and sweat, even a touch of sunshine, all rolled into one. Nick buried his fingers in Chris’s hair, not quite tugging but gently urging. Chris began bobbing his head, sucking, licking, humming. Nick panted above him, soft whispers that sounded like Chris’s name drifting down. Chris pumped the shaft with his fist while focusing his mouth on the sensitive crown. Just as he got going real good, Nick stopped him.

  “Fuck. If you don’t stop, I’ll come.” Nick pushed Chris backward. As soon as they both were naked, Nick straddled him. “I need you inside me,” Nick murmured in between kisses.

  Chris groaned. “Bedside table.”

  Nick leaned just far enough to tug open the drawer. He grabbed a rubber and the lube, then wiggled down a little. “Hopefully, we can eventually do this bare.”

  “Yeah.” Chris’s eyes rolled the second Nick put the condom on him. “Hurry…God, that feels fucking good.”

  Nick laughed softly. “I’m taking my time. Been waiting too fucking long for this.”

  Chris would’ve argued, but then Nick stroked his shaft with a slick hand. A moment later, Nick moved back up and reached behind himself. Chris watched, torn between staring at Nick’s face and between Nick’s thighs where he saw two fingers push into Nick’s ass. Nick moaned as he fingered himself, and Chris’s patience snapped. He grabbed Nick’s arm, moved it, and lined up.

  Nick grinned and leaned down for a kiss, and Chris held onto the man’s hips as he plunged inside. Tight, slick heat sucked him in, scrambling his brain. Or maybe that was Nick’s tongue doing the scrambling. Hell, Chris couldn’t tell, didn’t care. He was finally buried balls deep inside the one man he’d always wanted. Hands braced on either side of Chris’s head, Nick rocked and ground down on Chris’s cock, panting, moaning.

  Chris drew both legs up and began thrusting harder and faster. Eyes wide, Nick gasped and nodded. Chris loved the way Nick’s eyes glazed over with every stroke. Nick sat up and grabbed his own cock, pumping it to match Chris’s speed and rhythm.

  “Chris. Fuck. Don’t stop,” Nick panted.

  “Hell, no.”

  Nick’s thighs tightened, and he shivered. Head thrown back, Nick groaned as spunk sprayed onto Chris’s chest. Nick’s ass squeezed Chris’s cock, and Chris swore he saw stars. Bucking, he slammed up into Nick over and over, filling the condom.

  Despite being on the bed, Chris felt the world spin. Nick carefully bent down for a kiss.

  “Are you sure this wasn’t a mistake?”

  Chris smiled. “The only mistake I see is a lack of your belongings in what I hope will be our house.”

  Nick laughed, causing Chris to slip out. They both grumbled. “Shower?”

  Chris nodded and sat up when Nick stood. “Then we get you moved in.” He caught Nick’s hand and tugged his lover down for another kiss. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

  * * * *

  ABOUT MYCHAEL BLACK

  Mychael Black has been writing gay romances (in many genres) since 2005. When not writing, Mychael works full-time, designs jewelry, reads, plays PC video games, snuggles with the pup, and forces the entire household to endure nonstop Spongebob episodes. For more information, visit mychaelblackbooks.com.

  Chicken Soup by Mel Bossa

  Trying not to spill the shooters, Jimmy carefully pushed his way through the crowded club. Around him, the energy was unbelievable. The dance floor was so jam-packed, he had to go around it in order to get to the main bar.

  Every breath he drew in was like sucking in water. Jimmy’s throat hurt again tonight, but he ignored it. An attractive guy in a fitted yellow tank stepped on his toe, and when the man yelled an apology into Jimmy’s ear, Jimmy smiled and gave him a thumb’s up. Tonight, there was no problem. No beef to be had with anyone.

  He could smell sweat in the air through the intoxicating scents of colognes and deodorants. It was late in the night, and most guys had lost their shirts. There was skin everywhere—people bumping and grinding on the floor. He wished he was twenty-years old and healthy again, just for one night. Pride weekend always managed to get him riled up about being queer and out, and even as the years had passed, that feeling never had.

  He slowed down and took a moment to watch the lights playing on people’s happy faces. This was a new generation willing to take over the fight. No one could dim their bright souls tonight. No, tonight, they were all beautiful, rich, invincible, young, and free.

  At least in their own minds and until the sun came up.

  At the main bar, Jimmy’s good friend Paul made eye contact with him and grinned. “You can do it
!” he yelled, motioning for Jimmy to hurry up and bring the booze.

  It was Paul’s birthday, and because Paul’s longtime boyfriend Sean was out-of-town, Jimmy had decided to take Paul out. They hadn’t gone clubbing together in years. Paul was settled down now. As a matter-of-fact, so were all of Jimmy’s old friends.

  But he was still alone.

  “I don’t even know what these are,” Jimmy shouted, pushing two green shots into Paul’s hand. He leaned close to Paul’s ear. “Happy birthday!” he yelled.

  Paul raised a shot glass up. “Your turn to be forty in two weeks, right, Jimmy boy?”

  Forty.

  Tomorrow, he’d be attending his twenty-first Pride parade, but this year again, would have no one special to share the day with.

  Jimmy downed both his shots and wiped his lips. “Tonight, I’m still in my thirties.” He laughed wryly and looked around at the crowd, but his nerve was faltering. “Wanna dance?” He looked back at Paul, who was staring at the men on the dance floor with his mouth a little open. In his white polo shirt and jeans too tight for him, Paul looked attractive, but maybe a tiny bit desperate.

  Jimmy glanced down at himself. When he’d finished work at the restaurant this evening, he’d tossed his Chef’s jacket in a corner, splashed some water under his arms and headed out in his blue jeans and fitted black tee.

  “I leave the dancing to the young and fabulous,” Paul said over the sound of the music blaring out of the speakers.

  “Ah, come on, Paul. You still got it.” Jimmy leaned his elbows back on the bar and gazed out at the floor.

  “No, Jimmy. You still got it,” Paul said, close to his ear. “I don’t know how you do it, but you haven’t changed since I met you fifteen years ago. I grew a pot-belly and lost half of my hair, but you’re still Jimmy the sexy cook people lust after.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re the one with the fantastic boyfriend and happy home.”