Mannies Incorporated Page 7

  Christian nodded. "I like orange best, but purple is okay."

  Slayde passed out Popsicles, handed him a glass, and then proceeded to keep everyone in the kitchen.

  "Can I have a lick of that green one, Maggie?" Drake asked.

  "No. You have boy germs."

  "And Maggie has girl cooties!" Christian began to dance around the table, shouting "Girl Cooties! Girl cooties!" over and over.

  "I hate cooties." Slayde rolled his eyes, sighed.

  Drake laughed. "God, I haven't heard that in a million years."

  All three of them started bouncing and squealing and chanting. "COOTIES! COOTIES!"

  "Oh, lord." He just sat and laughed. What else could he do?

  Slayde laughter rang out, joined with him. God, the man lit up when he laughed.

  Then Slayde started jumping along with the kids, yelling "Cooties! Cooties!"

  Drake just shook his head. He'd done thirty push-ups, he wasn't going to start running around too. Mindy would love this. She… His phone. He grabbed his phone and started videoing, keeping it on until they all ran out of steam, hooting and laughing together, a crazy little family. Thank God, Slayde had helped him figure out all the bells and whistles.

  He scooped Christian up and hugged the boy. "How about uncle cooties?"

  Christian laughed and kissed him on the cheek, lips sticky. "I'm not scared!"

  "Brave boy!"

  Christian nodded, so serious. "I'm like my daddy. A hero."

  He hugged Christian close. "Yeah, Christian, you are." Jesus, they were going to break his heart.

  Slayde sighed, nodded, a look of loss on the man's face.

  Drake hadn't known Jerry all that well -- he and Mindy had stayed in touch but hadn't lived near each other since before Mindy and Jerry had met, but Slayde had been the man's friend, trusted enough to take care of the kids and it must have been hard on him as well. Rubbing his face, Drake wondered how things could go from fun to serious so quickly.

  It was Slayde who, like usual, saved the day. "Let's wash our hands and then we can play with Legos."

  "Sounds like a plan." He patted Christian's back and gave Maggie his best grin. "I have to help Uncle Slayde with supper, but then I can come play with you."

  "I play with my baby."

  "I could uh… play dolls with you." Drake couldn't believe those words had just passed his lips. What's more, he couldn't believe he'd meant them.

  "Okay. My baby loves you, too."

  He beamed, unaccountably pleased by that. "Cool."

  She nodded and then just wandered off, easy as pie.

  "It's amazing, huh?" Slayde looked at him from across the room.

  "Yeah, it really is." He'd won her over and it was more important to him that he had than solving any case had ever been.

  "You going to have kids one day?"

  "Who me?" It wasn't even an option. He didn't get it up for women. Period. Besides, he might not be out, but he wasn't going to live a lie like that.

  "Yeah…"

  Drake shook his head. "It's not in the cards, man."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  He frowned. "Huh? What?"

  "I didn't know you were…shooting blanks."

  "Shooting blanks? What the hell?" He stood up and glared. There was nothing wrong with him! "Screw you, Slayde."

  "I. Sorry." Slayde held his hands up, face utterly shocked.

  Slayde's expression was the only reason he didn't storm out of there. "Shooting fucking blanks, what the fuck is your problem? Why would you fucking say that?" Slayde didn't have any right to accuse him of shit like that. Untrue shit. There was nothing wrong with his boys. Nothing at all.

  "I. I'm sorry. I thought… You said you couldn't have kids."

  "I said it wasn't in the cards, man. There's nothing wrong with my guys. Absofuckinglutely nothing."

  "Okay. My apologies. I wasn't… I didn't. Your balls are fine. I'm going to make the kids dinner."

  "Can we stop fucking talking about my balls already?"

  "You got it." Slayde disappeared, just poof, the man was out of there.

  He growled softly, annoyed and frustrated. He didn't even know why he gave a shit whether or not Slayde knew there was nothing wrong with his balls, damn it.

  Maybe he was losing his fucking mind.

  Chapter Five

  Slayde put the kids to bed and headed straight to his room, without bothering to make a cup of coffee or eat. He just had his computer and his phone and Skype. God, he hoped his peeps were around.

  Travis answered his Skype, giving him a grin. "Slayde, my man."

  "Travis. Hey." He tried to smile back, but he didn't have it in him.

  "Joey," Travis looked to his right, "you'd better come here. It's Slayde and all is not right in his world."

  Joey appeared, sitting in Travis' lap and staring at him. "Travis is right, honey. Spill."

  "I just… I really pissed him off. Really. And I was being nice."

  "I thought the two of you were getting along better?" Travis asked.

  "I did too." He surprised himself by almost tearing up. "He just blew up, cussing, and losing it. I thought he might explode."

  "What happened, honey?" Joey was all sweet concern.

  "He told me he couldn't have kids, and I said I was sorry."

  "And…"

  "And he just lost it, yelling and cursing at me, like I'd insulted him." Like he was being a bitch or something.

  "What a stupendous dick," declared Joey.

  "He lost it because you said you were sorry?" Travis was still frowning. "Is he unhinged?"

  "I don't know!" Slayde threw his hands up. This whole thing was insane.

  "And that's all you said -- I'm sorry?"

  "Yes. I wasn't nasty. I told him it sucked that he was shooting blanks. He's so good with kids."

  "Well, he's just an asshole and if you think he's dangerous you tell Mindy and get him the hell out of there." Joey looked like he was ready to come right over and usher Drake out without ceremony himself.

  Travis, though, he'd started chuckling. Joey glared at his lover.

  "Slayde, honey, he thinks you questioned his manhood."

  "I did not!" He stared at them both.

  Travis gave him a shit-eating grin. "I bet you anything that's how he took it."

  Joey looked at Travis, rolled his eyes. "Travis is way more butch than us, honey. Maybe he's right."

  "I am right, honey. Are you sure he isn't gay?"

  "Positive. Totally positive. This is the straightest man ever."

  "Well, he doesn't like you making cracks about his sperm."

  "Does that make him queer?" That was dumb.

  "Not at all, honey, but it makes him sensitive about his sperm."

  Joey started giggling and Travis' lips twitched.

  "You're both asshats. Teasing me. He's a turd and you're both fired." Assholes.

  "You want us to come and beat him up?" Joey asked.

  There was a knock on his bedroom door.

  "Hold on, guys." He hopped up, went to the door. "Yeah?"

  Drake was there, looking somewhat sheepish. "Hey. Look, sorry if I shouted earlier."

  "I--. I wasn't trying to piss you off, man. It's cool."

  "I know. There's just nothing wrong with me, okay?"

  "Okay. You're a stud. Perfectly formed."

  "That's right, I am." Drake growled a little, puffed up.

  He wasn't going to spring wood. Not at all. "Cool."

  "Okay. Cool. You want to order a couple pizzas?"

  "I? Sure. Sure. That would be great." So that was it?

  Drake grunted. "The usual?"

  "Yeah." He tried to sound manly, hoping the boys couldn't hear him.

  Drake smiled, eyes warm. Shit, if he didn't know, he'd say the man was checking him out. "Cool."

  "I'll be down in a couple."

  "Cool." Drake gave him a lopsided grin and headed off, giving Slayde a great view of th
at ass in tight jeans.

  "Oh, God." He shut the bedroom door and headed back to the bed. "This is crazy, guys."

  "You like him!" Joey's eyes were sparkling.

  "Shut up, you bitch." He did not.

  Travis' eyebrows went up. "What's that Shakespeare line about protesting too much?"

  He flipped Travis off. "I just need to get laid. Just a friendly hand, you know?" Hell, a hug from an adult would work.

  "So ask for one." Joey waggled his eyebrows.

  "Fuck off, man. He'd hit me. Hard." He let himself flutter dramatically. "I have a beautiful face. I don't want it mangled."

  Joey laughed for him, and Travis chuckled. There was a speculative gleam in the man's eyes, though.

  "Tell me you two will come up for coffee or something?"

  Joey looked at Travis, who nodded. "We can come this weekend, honey. If you want us to."

  "I want. Just for a couple of hours. Just to relax." They could hang out in the backyard after the kids were asleep.

  "Book us a room somewhere, honey, and we'll be there."

  "I'll do it." He blew kisses at the screen. "You two are made of win."

  "We have your back, honey."

  "Besides," added Travis, "Joey's wanted to come see your mean cop leather daddy stud since you first mentioned him."

  "Shut. Up." It was a hot little fantasy though, wasn't it?

  "Travis! No telling." Joey laughed, though.

  Travis chuckled. "We love you, Slayde. And we'll see you on Saturday."

  "Good deal. I can't wait." He waved and hit end. Okay. Okay, he could do this now. He'd just needed a little support.

  He heard the doorbell go -- shit, that was fast. Or he'd been woolgathering for a while. Whichever. He got up, grabbed a clean T-shirt and headed down. The pies were on the backyard table, along with a six-pack of beer, minus the one Drake was holding. They'd cleared having beer with Mindy, as long as it was drunk the same night it had been brought in, after the kids were in bed.

  "Hey. Smells good." Looked good too.

  Drake smiled over at him. "I love those kids, but I've got to admit, I love post-bedtime even more."

  "Yeah. It can be tiring."

  "Shit, yeah. And God knows I'm not doing any push-ups for that one."

  Slayde sat, chuckled, not sure if he should steal a beer.

  Drake nodded at the table. "Pizza and beer. Go ahead."

  "Thank you." He took a can, popped the top, sighed.

  "You're welcome," Drake growled out. He finished his beer and grabbed another one, downing a slice of pizza in fairly short order.

  Slayde sipped half his beer, nibbled on the pizza, and tried to relax.

  "I am sorry for earlier." Drake was looking at the pizza, not at him.

  "Me too." He wasn't sure why he should be, but he was.

  "So we're good?"

  "Sure. Sure." He didn't think so, but whatever.

  Drake snorted. "You're a shitty liar, man. Which is too bad because I thought we'd found a rhythm."

  "I did too."

  "Look, you pushed a button, okay? I thought you were being an asshole."

  "Okay." Slayde decided, right then and there, to treat this like he would any angry kid. "I'm sorry your feelings were hurt."

  Drake actually chuckled at that. "I'm a big enough man to admit it was my ego, not my feelings."

  "I didn't intend any harm."

  "Yeah, I eventually figured that out."

  What was he supposed to say next?

  Drake finished his beer, and reached for a third. Slayde put his bottle down beside him on the patio, still half-full, and grabbed another pizza.

  "We got anything not kiddie for dessert?" the man asked.

  "There's ice cream."

  "Tell me it's not bubble gum or candy floss or some shit like that."

  "I think there's strawberry and coffee chip."

  "Oh, fucking A." Drake gave him a grin. "I don't know how you do this day after fucking day."

  "It's my job." He loved those kids.

  "There's easier jobs, man."

  "I suppose, but this one is mine."

  "Yeah. I hope Mindy knows how lucky she is."

  Oh. Oh, that was dear. "Thank you."

  Drake grunted, nodded, and waved a beer at him.

  "Oh, I'm good, thank you. Go ahead."

  "I probably shouldn't." Grinning, Drake took a sip anyway.

  "It's okay. You've had a long day."

  "Yours was longer."

  What was he supposed to say to that? He kept thinking that with Drake.

  "So you do anything for fun, Slayde? Or is it all work, all the time?"

  "I go dancing. I hang out." Get blow jobs.

  "That's right. Dancing." Drake chuckled. "I've always sucked at dancing, but I bet you move real good."

  "I enjoy it. A lot." He loved music. He'd seriously considered going into singing in college, but his parents had convinced him that he needed something more practical. He didn't regret it, but there were days he wished he did more than karaoke.

  "I bet you do."

  "What about you? What are you into?" And why did that sound dirty?

  The grin Drake gave him said he thought it sounded dirty, too. Slayde's cheeks felt like they were burning, and he was grateful the porch light was behind him.

  "I suppose you got to do more of that while Mindy was here. You can do it again now, though. I swear I won't burn down the house or lose anyone if you take a night off or something."

  "I may take you up on it. My best friends are coming Saturday to visit."

  "You got it."

  "Well, we can't dance around here." The soldiers would kick his ass. "But they'll come for supper and to visit, and I may go back to their hotel room and have a beer." A hand job. A snuggle.

  "We can't dance? Sure we can." Drake gave him a grin and got up, headed inside.

  What the hell? Slayde frowned, eyes following Drake. What had he missed?

  Drake came back with his iPhone. "This thing does music, right?"

  "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, sure it does." He held his hand out for it.

  Drake handed it over and rolled his hips, punched his hands to the right and to the left. "See? We can boogie."

  Slayde chuckled, searching for something that Drake could dance to and not feel like a drunken idiot in the morning.

  "Well…" Drake tilted his head. "You can dance. I can look like someone being electrocuted."

  "I bet you're fine." Maybe.

  Drake laughed. "Maybe after another beer."

  He found some dance music on Pandora, and his foot started tapping. Drake grabbed his bottle and downed whatever was left in it, hips swaying. Slayde swallowed his groan. That was like a wet dream come to life.

  "Come on now, don't let me make a fool of myself on my own."

  He stood, staying out of the light, out of Drake's way, and started moving. He was awkward and self-conscious for about half a song and then the music caught him and he just let himself move.

  Drake sang along, out of key and most of the words were wrong but he was moving, clearly having fun. Slayde chuckled, moving with the music, hips rolling as he danced.

  Drake clapped his hands and called out, "Woo, move it, baby."

  Oh, God. His cock jerked and he was glad he hadn't bothered to tuck his T-shirt in.

  Drake wasn't a bad dancer, the booze had loosened him up, and whoa, could Drake move his hips. Slayde could imagine that hard, fine body slamming into him, spreading him and fucking him like there was no tomorrow.

  He felt like Drake was watching him. Closely. He closed his eyes, stopped looking, and he just focused on the music. He felt Drake against him suddenly, dancing back to back with him. Oh, fuck. His cock went rock hard, his body insisting that it had been too long since he'd had what he needed.

  Drake's ass kept rubbing back and forth across his. Jesus, his jeans were too fucking tight for this. Drake was still "singing" along to the music, body so fucking ho
t. One of his hands dropped forward, just barely skimming across his cock. Oh, God. God, yes. Please.

  "Fuck, I haven't danced like this in a million years." Drake's head leaned against his.

  "Feels good, huh?"

  "Shit yeah. You feel good."

  He couldn't tell if that was a question or a statement. "Uh-huh." That was perfectly noncommittal, right? Just don't stop.

  Drake laughed and bumped his ass back, then turned and suddenly was dancing front against his back. His ass was still moving, grinding, and he pushed right against Drake's crotch. Jesus fuck, the man was hard and hung.

  His lips opened and his entire body shivered. Still he didn't move away. They kept dancing as one song turned into another, Drake just so fucking hot.

  Slayde was going out of his fucking mind, cock leaking and hard, heart racing. He didn't know whether to push closer or pull away. Drake's hands dropped to his hips, pulling him back against that heat. Oh, fuck. Yes. His moan was deep, low, and totally heartfelt.

  Drake's answered it, the man grinding against him. Slayde spread a little, the pressure inside his balls getting worse.

  "Fuck," muttered Drake, mouth latching on to his neck.

  He moaned low, let his head drop forward, one of his hands rubbing his needy cock through his jeans.

  "Hottest fucking ass."

  "Oh, God." He pushed back, rolling his hips, moving like they were fucking.

  Drake was moving like that as well, just banging against him. Slayde reached behind his back, between them, thumb tracing a line from tip to base, as he wished there wasn't any material between them.

  "Oh, fuck. Fuck!" Drake pushed into his touch, whole body shuddering behind him.

  The scent of come made Slayde whimper, made him want to turn around, tear Drake's jeans open. Before he could do it, Drake's hand landed on his prick, squeezed.

  "Please." Slayde jerked forward, body so hungry for it, needing this more than anything on earth, right now.

  The house phone began to ring, the sound loud, shocking him.

  "Fuck." Drake's hand tightened on him, the man's entire body going rigid behind him.

  "It's okay. It's okay. I'll grab it." He sprinted in, picked up the phone and growled at the telemarketer trying to sell time shares on the other end of the line.

  The music was still going when he hung up and Drake was still out there, another beer in hand, body swaying to the music, sweat making the man's T-shirt stick.