12. Sunny

CHAPTER 12

Sunny

I felt like such a loser at that card table last night. I was reduced to going through the motions, just praying I wasn’t making a scene. It made no sense. These were all friendly people. This was such a great community. And there I was blowing it before I had even gotten to know the place.

In that moment, I was so certain that people were going to think I was a big weirdo that I just kept pretending. Gray was the only one who saw that I was in trouble.

Worse, I was embarrassed for Baz to figure out that I still had the same issue from when I was a kid, but he seemed to understand. Both got me out of there without causing a scene and I didn't know how to make up for that.

All I remember from last night is that when we got home, Gray made me some chamomile before tucking me into bed.

Now I'm awake before everyone, staring at the ceiling, not sure what to do with myself.

“I sure hope you're not laying there beating yourself up about last night,” Gray whispered, wrapping his arm around me.

“I can think whatever catastrophic thoughts I want to,” I joked as I turned to face him.

A growl rumbled in his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. “Don't do that. Don't try to make it funny.”

“Well, it’s not that serious, is it?” I asked, leaning into his touch. “I mean, so what? So what if I can't handle crowded spaces . . . right?”

“Don’t diminish it, Sun. When you diminish things, you don't give yourself grace to be human.”

“What do you know about that?”

“Well, you’ve already met and spent time with several of my friends, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Funny that I haven’t mentioned my parents.” He kissed my nose.

“I hadn't even thought to ask about your parents. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize—I never talk about them.”

I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his palm. “I know that you must have your reasons for that, but you can talk to me about anything, Gray.”

He gave me a paltry half-smile, and his eyes went sad. “I realized a long time ago that they were just dismissive assholes, and I didn’t want to be around that anymore.”

“What were they dismissive of? Your sexuality?” I grimaced. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“Stop apologizing, Sun.” He pushed the hair off my forehead, so very gently. “And sure. They dismissed my sexuality. But they also dismissed anything they felt gave the family a bad name. Belittled it, dehumanized it, made it so easy to act as if . . .” He let his words drift off.

The faint morning light created more shadows than sun, darkening his eyes as his thoughts took him somewhere unpleasant.

“Made it easy to act as if what, Gray?”

He thinned his lips. Ruffled my hair, then kissed my forehead.

“When I was younger, I had a stutter. Instead of taking me to get help, to a speech therapist, to a counselor, they just made fun of me until I stopped talking.”

My hand went to my mouth. As shitty as my father was, I couldn’t picture him doing that. He’d have at least sprung for a speech therapist.

Gray continued. “That’s how I got my nickname. I didn't talk, so people thought I was in a bad mood.” He huffed. “As it turned out, that put me in a very bad mood.”

“You didn't deserve that,” I said, grabbing his hands. “You didn't deserve that at all. How the hell did you get over your stutter?”

“My kindergarten teacher, Miss Bean. When I wouldn't answer in class, she held me after school. I thought I was in trouble, but she was actually very nice. When she was finally able to coax a few words out of me, she saw what my problem was and got me the help I needed. As far as I could tell, she never said a word to my parents. I’m pretty sure it was illegal even back then to put a child on a different educational plan without the parents’ knowledge, but I think she already knew the kind of people they were.”

“I'm so sorry, Gray.” I caressed his face.

“Don’t be—that’s how I got into painting,” he said, putting his hand over mine. “Some of it was therapy, some of it was helping me to express myself in nonverbal ways.”

“That’s amazing.”

He nodded. “My therapist told me that the actor James Earl Jones had a bad stutter growing up and said that he used a bunch of different methods to help him out. So, I imitated his cadence, and that really helped.”

“Wait. Does that mean you can imitate?—”

“Luke, I am your father,” he said, dropping his voice to the basement in a perfect imitation of Darth Vader.

“Yeah, I’ll be needing you to use that in bed. Just sayin’.”

“Shut up,” he said before kissing my forehead.

“But what I’m hearing you say is that we are both just really fucking broken.”

Gray snorted. “Got my millionaire at a scratch and dent sales, folks.”

I glared at him, but couldn't hold the expression, so I pulled him in for a kiss instead.

As with all our kisses, it lasted longer than seemed totally reasonable. Still . . . I needed it. We began to heat up, and I reached down, pawing at the hard on behind his tented pajamas. He groaned as I slipped my hand under his waistband, wrapping my hand around that velvety hardness.

He pulled back from the kiss. “You don't have to do that now.”

“I do,” I insisted. “This, with you? It feels necessary. And I don't mean to scare you, or seem needy . . .”

“You're not needy, Sun. And if giving me an early morning hand job makes you feel better, go for it.”

“Who knew the grumpy guy would be the one to have all the jokes?”

He cut me off with a deep kiss, and I continued to stroke him. When he got close, he stopped me so that we could slip off our pajamas.

Grinning, he pushed my hand down to his cock and laid back. I leaned in and sucked on one of his nipples, nipping at him, making him twist and arch in the sheets.

“Coming,” he softly grunted, squeezing my arm tight as the orgasm rolled over him.

I could see his pleasure in the way his balls drew up, the way his toes curled, and the nearly pained look on his face. I directed his release onto his belly, continuing that slow steady stroke until his muscles were so relaxed that he was reduced to a puddle.

Gray laid back, took a few deep breaths, then reached down and grabbed his pajama bottoms from the floor and mopped up the mess on his belly. With a predatory look he then flipped me onto my back.

I let out a shout, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Shit, my brother.

Gray held his finger to his lips, then nudged between my thighs and took me into his mouth, making my eyes roll back into my head with the intensity of his suction.

I wasn’t going to last, but I had nothing against a quickie blow job. Normally I’d say that they didn't mean much, that they were just a bit of relief, but nothing Gray did was unconsidered. Nothing he did was just a quickie version. I didn’t think he was capable of it.

No, he took me apart, purposefully, exquisitely, as if he were reading my body like a sheet of music or maybe a painting.

“Coming,” I croaked, overcome with the desire in his gaze.

He intensified the suction, and I fought to keep my eyes open as I released down his throat. It was like riding a roller coaster without ever once shutting your eyes—I felt everything, the heat of his mouth, the slickness of his tongue, the catch of his teeth, each pulse of cum, more than I ever had in my life. His gaze never left mine.

No one had ever wanted me as much as he wanted me in that moment.

Sex with him, I was realizing, had never been the main event. Yes, it was fucking mind blowing, but he held me like he couldn't help himself. Like he had to put his hands—and his mouth, and his eyes—on me.

It was what I needed more than anything else. What I’d always needed. A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away.

“Don't hide your tears from me,” he whispered, kissing my face. “Don't you ever do that.”

“’kay.”

He pressed a kiss to my mouth, slipping his tongue in alongside mine, sharing the earthy essence of my cum as he surrounded me in his arms. We held on to each other, naked and sated and unable to stop this train.

We were slow to get up after that and took a shower together. It wasn't sexual, but it was comforting. By the time we made it to the kitchen, Baz was up and figuring out the coffee maker. Gray stepped in to finish the job, and Baz nearly hit the ceiling.

Removing his AirPods, he grimaced. “Sorry, I had you on noise cancellation mode.”

“Good call,” I said, laughing at Baz’s embarrassment. “Sorry if we were a little loud.”

“Actually, you weren’t that bad. I just didn't need to hear it.”

Gray took over making breakfast, and Baz sat in front of me.

He held out his hands and I took them. “I just want to repeat that you didn't do anything wrong last night. It’s okay to not want to be in crowded spaces, ever. It’s also okay to see if that’s something you can work on. And it’s always okay to talk to me about it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have the same issues—these are the things I want to know about.”

I rolled my eyes, even as I shed a few more tears. “Fine. I promise not to hide that from you.”

Baz lifted his shoulder. “To be honest, I haven't always told you everything either.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Temple and I didn't break up because we’d gotten bored with each other. He tried to hit me, and I walked out.”

“He hit you?”

Baz shook his head. “He tried to hit me, but that did not go well for him. Though . . . I should stay out of Florida for the time being.”

“Please don’t tell me that I’m harboring a criminal.” Gray sat down our coffees. “Unless there’s a reward. Is there a reward?”

Baz shot him the finger and I laughed. “Gray’s been full of jokes this morning.”

“He’s been full of something,” Baz cracked.

Gray blanched, then went back to making breakfast.

“New rule for the Day brothers,” I proclaimed. “Important events get shared. Period.”

“Deal.”

Gray came by a few moments later, dishing out breakfast. We got a few bites in, and he said, “I have an idea about Christmas.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Griff says that sometimes the people who run the events will host either an early morning or a late-night version of things for the service industry folks who can’t get around to the festivities during business hours.”

“Really? That doesn't sound too crowded. “

“Exactly.” He topped off my coffee. “I’d like to ask Griff to get us into some of those events. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that without giving him a good explanation though.”

“You can tell Griff. Or I can.”

“No, I'll take care of it. We won't be able to get to everything, but I think that there are some fun elements we can get involved in. Bonus, it’s good for a big time CEO to see how the peons live and celebrate.”

Baz pulled a face. “We never think of our folks as peons. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“I get that.” Gray smiled at him. “But sometimes it’s good to hang out with people you might not normally hang out with.”

“Does that mean I can tag along to some of the events?” He held up his hands. “I don't have to if you two would rather just go as a couple. And I don’t mind going to the regularly scheduled events.”

“I'd love for you to join us,” Gray said. “As long as your brother isn't tired of you.”

Baz sent me a pleading look and I tapped my chin, thinking about it. “Yeah, fine. I would love for you to come with us.”

“Sweet, let’s celebrate Christmas, Gray-style.”