WATCHING BRAD
Part XXXV
I didn't know what kind of birthday party Lindsay was planning for me. I mean, my birthday wasn't until later in October and we weren't even into Thanksgiving yet. But, it was fun hearing all the clever things she could simply not live without. So far, I had bought almost sixty dollars worth of crayons, paper clips, two colouring books, multi-coloured push pins, and one pair of socks which cost me twelve ninety-nine plus tax.
Brad wouldn't say anything when I asked him about it. He'd just show me that chipped-tooth grin of his, shake his head, and say, "You're going to love it."
Brad had changed over the past few weeks. It started when we first brought the piano into our house. He let the short hair on top of head grow out. It was parted in the middle now and brushed to both sides and fell forward over his forehead. I missed the spikey-topped look at first, but this new look was growing on me. It framed his face better and gave him a more grown-up, handsome appearance. His hair was still long and full on the sides and back, of course, but not all the way to his shoulders. It covered his ears on the sides and grew just below his natural hairline at the back. I liked the way it bounced when he walked. He just looked more beautiful every day.
He tried growing a moustache once, but it was too scraggly for his liking and he shaved it off again.
So, where was I? Oh, yes. Heading into Thanksgiving and my surprise birthday party. Brad spent a lot of time on the computer doing work for his university courses and researching landscaping on the net whenever he had extra time. His landscaping program had arrived and he spent time learning that as well. It was an interesting program and he could do a lot with it. He photographed our front gardens and scanned them into the program, then showed me how he could mask out what was there and make whatever changes he wanted, adding new plants and trees, changing the retaining wall from stone to wood, adding a new sidewalk in a number of different textures. And, when it was all done, he could walk through it. Well worth the money.
Sex changed for us, too. And not for the worse. It just kept getting better and better. After Brad learned about that ‘legs over the head' self-suck thing, and after I discovered I liked rimming him, there seemed to be no limits to the pleasure we could give each other. The combinations were numerous and we spent a lot of time exploring them all.
Still, though, we kept coming back to our favourite pass-time, and that was me watching Brad masturbate. As much as we enjoyed making love with each other, we didn't enjoy it half as much as that. Brad jerked off for me at least once a week, and oftentimes more than that. He was still the master of manipulation. Occasionally, he would masturbate until he was close to orgasm, lie down and toss his legs over his head, and jerk off into his mouth. He liked to keep a space between his cockhead and open mouth so I could see him shooting off into it. A lot of times, he'd hold some of his semen on his tongue and we would share it when we kissed afterward, and then I would lick his face clean of any spurts which had gone astray.
Our love for each other never wavered. It was as strong as it was before, and getting stronger by the day. Brad settled into his dependency with relative ease and accepted the fact that, if he wanted us to stay together, he would have to swallow his pride and do it.
A few days before Thanksgiving, Brad came storming into the house after classes. He slammed the front door, tore past me without a word, and went directly to our bedroom, slamming that door behind him as well. Lindsay was sitting at the table eating one of Grandma's cookies.
"Wait here, Sweetheart," I told her. "You can have another cookie, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy," she said, but I could tell she was as concerned as I was.
I hurried down the hall and into our bedroom. Brad had his shirt of by that time and was just pulling his pants off his feet as I closed the door behind me. He turned and threw the pants toward the other side of the bed, the pant leg hitting the table lamp there and knocking it over.
"Brad?" I said.
He turned toward me. His face was red and twisted with anger and the muscles in his neck bulged. "That fuckin' little bastard!" he yelled. His hands balled into fists, his elbows bent, and his biceps ready to explode. In the three months I'd known him, I didn't know Brad was capable of this.
"Hey!" I yelled even louder. "Keep your voice down!"
Brad's chest heaved. He didn't lose any of his anger, but he gained control of his voice. "I'm sorry, Ted," he said much more quietly, but his voice was still full of rage. He sat on the bed and I joined him. My arm came around his shoulder.
"Who are you talking about?"
"That fuckin' asshole, Mike, that's who," he said, spitting the name out of his mouth as if it were serpent's venom. "The little bastard came on to me!"
"Lots of people do that, Brad," I said, trying to console him.
"Not like this, Ted," he told me. "I was ready to pound his face in."
My free hand went to his bare leg. "What happened."
"Right there! On the Go," He began. I could see he was trying desperately to regain control of his emotions. "His hand went right to my crotch and he grabbed a handful. I pushed it away and asked him not to do that and he grabbed me again! And he put his arm around me like you are now!" He looked at me. "He told me. . ."
I waited. The strangest, most frightening look came into Brad's green eyes. "What?" I asked. "What did he tell you?"
His voice dropped to a sad whisper. "He told me to. . . dump Gramps and let a real man do the job."
I sat back, pulling my hand and arm away.
Brad grabbed my wrist in his hand. "No, Ted!" he said. "Don't pull away from me!" He pulled me to him and grabbed me in his arms so hard and pulled me against his chest with such strength that he squeezed the air out of my lungs. He held me until my arms came around him to hold him as well. He nuzzled his face into my neck and kissed it.
A soft knock came at the door. "Daddy?" Brad and I separated, but we didn't let go of each other.
"What is it, Sweetheart?" I called.
The door opened slowly and Lindsay peeked through the opening. "I was scared, Daddy," she said. "Is Brad okay?"
Brad managed a smile. "I'm fine, Lindsay," he said calmly. "I just had a bad day at school, that's all. We'll be out in a minute, okay? I want to talk to your Dad for a minute."
"Okay," she said and began to close the door.
"You can leave the door open," Brad said.
Lindsay pushed the door open. "Can I have another cookie, Daddy?"
"How many have you had?"
"Two."
"Wait until after dinner, okay?" I said. "You can have ice cream with them for dessert."
A smile broke out on her face. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to watch cartoons."
"Thank you, Sweetheart." She left and I turned my attention to Brad. "Maybe I
am too old for you."
Brad's face turned harsh and his voice was threatening. "Don't you ever say that to me again, Ted. Never! I fell in love with
you. Not some stupid number."
"Face it, Brad," I said. "You're not even twenty yet and I'll be thirty-three in a few weeks."
His hand came to my cheek. "Do you honestly think I give a shit about that? Do you honestly think I care?" His thumb stroked my cheek. "Your age doesn't change who you are, Ted. And it doesn't change the way I think about you. It never will."
He pulled me into his grasp again, much more tenderly this time. "I love you, Ted de Villiers, and I'll never stop loving you. And Heaven help you if you ever stop loving me."
I pulled myself into him. Moments later, my tears fell to his shoulder and fell in tiny streams down his chest. Brad held me until I stopped crying.
Mike's name was never mentioned in our house again.
* * * * *
Brad fucked me that night. There must have still been some suppressed anger in him. It came out in his fucking. He pounded into me much harder than he usually did and his balls crashed into my ass cheeks with every thrust. He lasted a lot longer as well. I had to cover his mouth when he came. He was almost screaming. By the time he finished, sweat was dripping off his brow and rolling down his chest.
He didn't apologize until later. He didn't even realize what he had done until I mentioned it to him when we were in the shower. I stopped his apologies. I hadn't minded it at all. It had been the best fuck I've ever had.
Brad smiled then. "I was wondering why my balls were so sore."
I kissed them to make them feel better.
* * * * *
I got off work an hour early on the Friday of the Thanksgiving weekend. Everything was packed and ready and loaded into the car that morning. I just had to get showered and changed and off we went. Brad was waiting for us, as planned, at the Ryerson library steps. He rode in the back seat until we got to Warren's place. We were stopping there for dinner before continuing on to Crystal Beach later that evening. Bill wasn't home yet. He'd got himself tied up in that traffic snarl on the QEW that I had managed to bypass by using the Lakeshore Boulevard.
Warren was a bundle of energy now. He bounced around the apartment like a little boy, flitting here and there and everywhere at once. I hadn't realized how much his heart had slowed him down. I had thought he was just getting lazier than he always was. Warren picked up Lindsay to give her a great big hug and kiss. Of course, he had a pile of Thanksgiving gifts waiting on the table for her. I think Lindsay was the only person in Canada to receive Thanksgiving gifts, and Warren was the only one who gave them out.
Both Brad and I got a big hug from Warren, and this time, we both got a big kiss as well. I was Warren's best friend, but Brad got the bigger hug and kiss. I didn't mind. I don't think he did, either.
Bill managed to make it in time for dinner and Brad displayed his turkey-carving abilities with consummate skill. Dinner was delicious, as it always was. Warren was an excellent cook. Everyone had pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert except for Lindsay. She was too anxious to start ripping open her gifts. Warren watched her carefully and closely, and there was such a look of joy in his face all the time he did. I'd always felt a bit guilty, what with him spending so much money on her, but I think Lindsay was the child he would never have. That was his biggest regret about being gay. He loved children.
"Teddy?" Warren said when Lindsay was finished with her gifts and digging into her pumpkin pie that she suddenly decided she wanted after all. "Bill and I are contemplating adoption."
"Really?" I was a bit surprised.
"Warren thinks we're too old to adopt."
It was Brad who grabbed that one. "You're never too old to adopt a child," he said. "Believe me. My parents were in their forties when they adopted me. Except for Ted and Lindsay, that was the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life."
"I didn't know you were adopted," Bill said.
"I asked Ted not to tell anyone."
"Have you tried to find your birth parents?" Warren asked.
"No," Brad said. "I was a drug baby. Mom and Dad don't even know who they are and I don't want to find out. Mom and Dad are the only parents I want."
"A drug baby!" Warren said. "Oh, Bill! Think what we could do for a child like that!"
"I don't know if you'd be up to it, Warren," I said. "Drug babies need a whole lot of attention, both parental and medical, until they get clean."
Warren looked deeply into Bill's eyes. Bill just looked at him and said, "We'll talk about it, okay?"
A smile broke out on Warren's face. "That usually means ‘yes'," he said.
Bill smiled back. "We'll talk."
Warren leaned to his left and gave Bill a big kiss. "Je t'aime, mon cher," he said.
"I love you, too, Babe," Bill said.
Unfortunately, we had to leave soon after dessert. We still had a few hours on the road. Maybe longer, depending on the traffic. We all got another hug and kiss goodbye from Warren. Lindsay got a hug and kiss from Bill as well. Brad and I got hugs.
We were crossing the Burlington Skyway when Lindsay hit us with the question. "Daddy? Would you adopt a baby brother for me?"
I looked at Lindsay in the rear view mirror, then at Brad. He was looking at me.
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. "We'll talk about it later, okay, Sweetheart?"
Lindsay's smile greeted me in the mirror. "I hope that means ‘yes'," she said.
I know I shouldn't even have been thinking of doing such a thing, but I was.
* * * * *
I had to awaken Lindsay when we arrived at Mom and Dad's place. I carried Lindsay and Brad carried the suitcases. Lindsay had her own case. Brad and I shared the larger one. As usual, Mom had the front porch decorated for the holiday. Corn stalks were tied to the metal supports of the porch awning and the traditional Indian corn was tied to the door. More corn stalks leaned against the house on either side of the door and a cornucopia sat to one side, overflowing with more ears of corn and various squash and gourds of all different colours. Several pumpkins of varying sizes sat on the other side.
Mom opened the door to greet us. Dad stood behind her. We stepped inside and Mom kissed both me and Lindsay, and then she kissed Brad on the cheek. Dad gave me a hug and gave Lindsay a kiss. He shook Brad's hand.
"How was the traffic, Son?" he asked as we moved into the livingroom and Mom closed the front door.
"Pretty heavy on the QEW in Mississauga, but not bad after that. There was a lot, but it was steady driving."
"We heard about an accident on the QEW," Mom said. "We thought you might have been tied up in that. No-one was killed, but it was pretty messy."
"I know," I said. "Bill got caught in it. We drove around it."
"Daddy, I have to go pee," Lindsay said sleepily.
"I'll take her," Mom said. Lindsay happily went to her arms.
As soon as Mom and Lindsay were out of range, Dad leaned toward me. His voice was low. "Son, your mother and I have decided to allow you and Brad to sleep in the same room, but I want you to promise me you won't. . . do anything while you're here."
"We won't, Dad," I said. "I promise."
And then Dad smiled at me. "Thank you, Son." He looked at Brad. "You any good with your hands, Son?"
Brad looked a bit shocked. I'm not sure if it was being asked if he was handy or if it was being called ‘Son'. "Um, yeah," he said. "I guess so."
"We bought one of those inflatable beds from Canadian Tire and we can't figure out the instructions," he said. "We bought one of them pumps to blow it up with, too."
"We'll get it," I said. "Which room is it in?"
"Your old room. You and Brad can sleep in the guest room. I'll make the tea."
I took Lindsay's suitcase and Brad grabbed the larger one. I pointed out the guestroom and Brad set the case inside. My old room was a bit further down the hall past the bathroom. I had to smile and shake my head. The box with the new bed hadn't even been opened yet.
"No wonder your Dad couldn't figure out the instructions," Brad chuckled as he began opening the box. "They're still inside." That's Dad. It's easier to make excuses than it is to admit he didn't want to do it. As it turned out, the instructions were hardly even necessary. Within a few minutes, we had the frame set up. The mattress was set in place and the electric pump was doing its thing. At least it wasn't a hand pump.
Mom showed up at the door. "Nightgown for Lindsay?" I popped open the suitcase and pulled out her nightgown and handed it to her. "She's almost asleep, Ted. How long will this take?"
"It's almost done now," Brad said. "I should have it all made up by the time Lindsay gets changed."
As Mom returned to the bathroom, Brad continued the pumping and I sorted the sheets and blankets. The pump turned off. "I think this is enough," Brad said. He was pushing at the mattress with his hand.
I sat on it, then lay down on my back. "A bit more," I said. "It's still pretty mushy." The pump turned on again and I felt the mattress rising. When I felt like I wasn't lying in marshmallow anymore, I said, "That's good."
I got up and Brad disconnected the pump and sealed the valve. Together, we made the bed. By the time Lindsay came into the room, I was folding down the blanket for her.
"Nite, Lindsay," Brad said as he squatted to give her a hug and kiss.
"Nitey-nite, Brad," Lindsay said. "I love you."
Brad left to join Dad in the kitchen.
"Goodnight, Sweetie," Mom said as she bent down to kiss Lindsay's forehead. "Sleep well."
"Nite, Grandma. I will."
When Mom was gone, I picked up my daughter and gave her the hug and kiss she was waiting for. "Goodnight, Sweetheart," I said. "I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy," she said quietly. "You won't forget about my baby brother, will you?"
"No, Sweetheart, I won't," I said softly. "But that's something I'm really going to have to think about first."
"Okay, Daddy," she said as I placed her in bed and pulled the sheet and blanket over her. "Just so you don't forget."
"I won't, Sweetheart," I assured her. "I promise." I tucked her in and kissed her forehead one more time. "Goodnight, Sweetheart."
"Nitey-nite, Daddy," she said.
I turned out the light and closed the door partway. Mom had tea and biscuits on the table by the time I joined them. Another cornucopia sat in the middle of the table and more Indian corn hung in the windows and lay on the kitchen counter, interspersed with more squash and gourds. Brad was looking through some gardening books Dad had brought out for him.
"Ted?" Brad said. "You ever heard of this guy? Alan Titchmarsh?"
"Yeah," I said. "He's pretty popular in England. He's on HGTV here sometimes, too."
"
Ground Force," Dad said. "Good programme. When it's on."
"I'll have to watch for it," he said.
"Alan has written a lot of books," Dad added.
I told Brad, "Check Amazon when we get home."
"I will do that," he said, "if I can remember his name."
"How is Warren doing?" Mom asked me as Dad retrieved a pen and paper and wrote down Alan Titchmarsh's name for Brad.
"Oh, Mom," I said, "you wouldn't believe him now. I bet Lindsay would have trouble keeping up with him."
"Warren!?" Dad said. There was no disguising the surprise in his voice.
"He's a new man, Dad. All this time we thought he was just getting lazy and it was really his heart. He's lost a lot of weight, too," I told them. "He looks young again. They said they'd be down to see you before Christmas."
"I'll certainly look forward to that," Mom said. "I wanted to be there for their wedding."
"They're thinking of adopting a baby."
"Really?" Mom said. "They can do that?"
"Bill would know if they could," I told her.
"Yes, he certainly would."
I chuckled lightly. "Lindsay wants me to adopt a baby brother for her."
"Oh, Ted. You're not seriously thinking of doing that, are you? A child is a big responsibility."
"I know, Mom," I said. "I already have one, remember? Let's just say I'm thinking about it."
"Think it through carefully, Son," Dad said. "You can't take a child back to the store if it doesn't work out."
"I won't jump into anything without very serious consideration."
"I'm sure you won't, Son," he said. Then, as he picked up his cuppa, he said to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "I've always wanted a grandson."
Mom looked at me and smiled. Dad had just given me his approval, and that surprised me, too.
Dad surprised me yet again when he said to Brad, "If you can't find those books you want here, let me know. I'll have my sister send them over from England for you."
Dad doesn't do
anything for someone he doesn't like.
"Thank you, Sir," Brad said.
"Call me Jan," Dad said, and he took another sip of tea.
* * * * *
"I think your Dad's starting to like me," Brad said later as we lay in bed. We had both decided it would be best to sleep in our underwear.
"You don't know the half of it, Brad," I told him. "Warren has known Dad almost his whole life and he still has to call him ‘Mr. de Villiers'."
"Wow."
"‘Wow' is right."
Brad paused. I knew he was thinking. "How does he spell his first name?"
That isn't exactly what I thought he was thinking about, but I answered him. "You pronounce it like ‘yawn', but it's spelt ‘J-A-N'."
"Oh," Brad said. "Like Jan Rubes."
"Yup."
"Hmmm," he said. "Never knew that was South African." Then he asked, "Ted? Are you really thinking of adopting a boy?"
That's what I thought he was thinking about.
"Yes, I'm thinking about it. Are you?"
"No," he responded, "but I will if you think I should."
I kissed him. "I think you should."
To Be Continued
