Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

MONTY

Monty wiped sweat off his brow and wandered into the lobby. The A/C had been busted all day, and the guy they'd sent to repair it went off for lunch, and three hours later, Monty was pretty sure he wasn't coming back.

"Call them," he ordered Kaitlyn, who was at the reception desk. "Threaten their future generations of children if they don't get someone in here to deal with this."

Kaitlyn stared at him. "It's not that hot."

It wasn't. But it was muggy and annoying, and Monty didn't do well with that kind of thing. Even the slightest bit of heat tended to fuck with him, and he'd already had two attacks of cataplexy that afternoon. Luckily neither of them had been when he was with a client, but he couldn't risk his reputation.

He was still getting started. He couldn't lose everything before he got the chance to make something of himself.

"How many meetings do I have left?"

Kaitlyn tapped on the keyboard, her brows furrowed. "Well, none. You need to finish filling out those two folders on your desk so I can run them down to the court, and after that, you just have prep for the Sandem hearing on Monday."

"Oh. Well…" He trailed off as he walked back into his office and swiped the folders off his desk, dropping them to the right of her keyboard. "Done. I'm going to finish prep at home."

"It's really not that bad," Kaitlyn insisted.

She knew about his condition because all of his staff had been briefed on it. The last thing he needed was to rack up ambulance bills after they panicked when he hit the ground. But he was well aware that none of them really understood the nuance of his condition.

Mostly because he didn't really understand it either. He knew his triggers, but that was about it. Even the doctors were still flummoxed and said they could only really hope he grew out of it—whatever the fuck that meant. He figured that was doctor-ese for it'll never get better, but we don't know why, so we're going to say that to shut you up .

"I need to work at home if I'm going to be any good to anyone this week," he told her, gathering his keys and briefcase. He swiped his phone off the desk and blinked in surprise when he saw Bronx's name on the screen.

Bronx: Free for dinner tonight? Kylen's been trying to schedule Luke's first flight.

Monty: Count me in. Can you pick me up?

He really wasn't actually free for dinner. He did have work to do. The hearing wasn't going to prepare itself. But meeting Bronx's son and having a nice dinner—and maybe a quiet little dessert after—sounded a lot better than straining his eyes on his couch while eating takeout.

Bronx: Yeah. I'm at my office on Fifth and Elm. Not sure where yours is, but I can swing by whenever you're ready. I'm not officially open yet.

That was two blocks from him. Monty actually knew the building Bronx was talking about because the reno had taken up half the intersection for months. His drivers had hated taking that route to his office.

But it was easily walkable.

Monty: I'll meet you there in ten. I'm right up the street.

He slid his phone into his pocket and turned to see Kaitlyn smiling at him. "Don't," he warned her.

"That looks like a date face."

"It's not. It's a friend is going to give me a ride face."

"We all need a ride from time to time."

"I will fire you. Don't think I won't." Which was also a lie. He headed for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder. "Call the HVAC place again. Threaten biblical plagues on their firstborns if this A/C isn't fixed by tomorrow. If they don't have a tech down here before you leave, I want our deposit back."

Kaitlyn saluted him. "Consider it done. Have a nice ride."

He flushed hotly and turned, hurrying away before his body did something stupid like collapse as though he was a swooning Victorian.

The walk to the office was less than six minutes, according to Monty's GPS, and he recognized Bronx's car as he turned the corner on Fifth. The building looked nice—freshly painted with a sign hanging just above the door. Elm Veterinary Medicine. The glass door bore three names, one of which was Bronx Reed.

Of course he was a Reed—just like Dallas. It was easy to forget they were related though. They looked a little bit alike, but Bronx was the polar opposite of his brother in ways that Monty appreciated.

As he approached the overhang, he saw a face in the window grinning at him, and his heart did a double beat. God, he wanted this man. He loved the fact that Bronx lit up whenever he saw Monty.

It did things to his insides to know he was responsible for that.

Monty pulled the door open, and Bronx immediately seized his wrist, dragging him in for a kiss. It was hot, wet, tasting a little like old coffee and some sort of mint gum that Bronx was still chewing. Monty groaned softly as he forced himself back and looked up into the man's dark eyes.

"You look good all dressed up for work," Bronx said, dragging a hand around Monty's collar.

Monty licked his lips. "So do you. But I can't wait to see you in scrubs."

Bronx backed Monty into the corner of the office wall between two chairs and kissed him again. "Just you wait," he said against his lips. "They have little kittens on them."

That should not be sexy. " Merde ."

"I know that one. It means shit. I'm assuming it's in a good way?"

Monty laughed. "Very. You get me all hot and bothered."

"How do you say that in French?"

"I actually don't know." Monty wasn't really on the up-and-up when it came to current slang. By the time kids his age were getting around to talking dirty, he'd been whisked off to the US to live with his dad, and his father spoke English exclusively unless he was shouting at them in Portuguese.

"Say something else, then. Something hot."

He dug deep into his lexicon for something Bronx might like. He dragged a touch around his pecs, then down to where he was half-hard in his jeans. "Je suis chaud."

Bronx leaned in and nosed at his jaw. "Meaning…?"

"I'm hot for you," Monty whispered to him, slightly breathless.

Bronx kissed him a third time, then pulled back with a loud groan. "We haven't installed security cameras yet. And my office has a lock on the door."

Monty's breath trembled on his exhale. "Ah, ouais?"

"Mm. Let me play with you?" Bronx asked. He traced the outline of Monty's raging boner tenting his slacks.

He couldn't say no. It was impossible. He let Bronx take his hand and carefully walk him through a heavy wooden door, down a small hallway, and into an office without a window. Bronx hit the light, then flicked the lock, and the echoing noise from the hallway deadened.

"I requested that the room be soundproofed. I sometimes get sensory overload when we have a lot of patients who are anxious."

For a moment, Monty forgot that Bronx was a vet and pictured a ton of screaming children. Then he pictured rooms full of yelping dogs. Either one would have been a nightmare. "Then let's give this place a good memory to start."

Bronx grinned sharply as he pulled Monty over to the desk. It was mostly empty save for two boxes at the edge, and Bronx shoved the chair away before hauling Monty onto the edge and dropping to his knees .

Christ, he would never get tired of watching this man suck him off. Especially with the way that Bronx seemed to get as much out of it as Monty did. He cupped Bronx's cheek and thumbed his lower lip. "Will you make yourself come?"

Bronx nipped at the digit. "You want me to jerk off?"

Monty nodded. His head was swimming, but he was goddamn determined to stay conscious for this. He didn't want to miss a second of Bronx's mouth on him. "Will you?"

"Anything for you."

Those three words punctured his chest and entered his veins. Sparks went off under his skin, and his cock throbbed so hard he was pretty sure he was going to burst through his zipper. Bronx didn't let that happen though. He quickly got to work, pulling Monty out and giving him a tight stroke from the head of his cock to the base.

"Gorgeous. Oh, sparky," Bronx murmured, and then suddenly, his mouth was on him.

Monty dug his heels into the floor, the edge of the desk digging uncomfortably into his ass. But it was worth it, and the pain kept him from shooting off too soon. He looked down and locked gazes with Bronx as he licked at his slit, and then his eyelids slammed shut as he took him all the way down.

Monty could see Bronx's arm moving. He could hear the sound of the zipper on his jeans pulling down and then a quiet fap, fap, fap as he began to stroke himself hard and fast. Fuck. It was too much.

Even the ache in his ass cheeks couldn't keep him from tumbling toward the edge. From years of damn near celibacy to being taken apart like this every time he and Bronx were in touching distance of each other, it was going to ruin him.

"Mm," Bronx groaned. His hand sped up.

Monty felt heat rushing from his core, his cock thickening, pulsing. He was going to come. "I…hnn…fuck," he gasped. He felt a moan lodged in his throat, ready to erupt. He was losing it entirely.

"Dr. Reed? Are you in here?"

The call came just as Monty released, and he had only enough sense to slap his hand over his mouth to muffle his cry as he came, and came, and came. Bronx gasped through his nose, swallowing down the thick pulses as it spilled, and in his haze, Monty could see Bronx's whole body shuddering.

Fuck. There was no way they could face anyone like this.

"Dr. Reed?" The handle on the door jiggled.

"Tell me no one has a key," Monty hissed, barely audible.

Bronx lifted off Monty's dick and rested his cheek against his thigh. "Fuck," he breathed out. "No. No one has a key. I don't think."

"You'd better put your dick away," Monty whispered as he shoved Bronx off him. He began to tuck himself into his boxer-briefs when his vision went white at the edges. Mon dieu, not now , he begged. He swayed, and Bronx's arms came around him. He was going to fight this. "Don't let go," he begged, not quite sure if he could be heard.

Bronx's grip on him tightened.

A beat passed. Another knock at the door. Another ask for Bronx.

It felt like an eternity went by, but finally, Monty could hear footsteps going back the way they'd come. He sagged harder against his lover and took a breath. The universe gave a shit about him today. He hadn't lost consciousness. He was present and still slightly shaky from having his brains sucked out through his dick.

He glanced up just as Bronx was looking down. Their smiles matched. "You look good in my arms."

Monty had no idea what to say. He wanted to tell him it felt good. That he could stay like this forever. But he didn't trust that it wouldn't ruin everything. "I really like you. I wish things were different."

"Maybe they will be," Bronx told him. "If we can find the patience."

"If it's worth it," Monty countered.

Bronx pulled back and cupped his face. "Yeah, sparky. Trust me, you're worth it."

Something had changed. Shifted. There was no denying it. Bronx was touchy-feely before, but he was freer with it on the drive home. He seized Monty's hand at every stoplight and kissed his palm, his fingertips, his wrist. Monty wanted to mind, but it felt too damn good to be spoiled like this.

He knew they'd have to pull back as soon as they got in. The last thing he wanted to do was cross lines in front of Bronx's son, but he was going to bask in it for as long as he was allowed. He let his eyes drift closed on the last leg of the drive and enjoyed the last of the evening sun on his face.

"This is it," Bronx said as the car bumped into the driveway. "Not sure if you've been here before."

Monty frowned. "We've spent the nights at my place."

"No, uh…this is Dallas's house. I wasn't sure if you two—we ll, he kind of implied you liked him at first? Fuck. Sorry."

Monty laughed and tugged on Bronx's shirt, pulling him in for a soothing, lingering kiss. "I thought he was very attractive. Not as good-looking as his older brother, but I might have considered it if he hadn't been in love with Kylen."

Bronx huffed a laugh. "Fair enough. Then I'll give you the tour. Just be careful not to move anything around if you can help it. Especially in the kitchen."

"Mm?" Monty frowned, then realized why. "Oh, of course. I'm not in the habit of rearranging my friends' homes when I visit."

Bronx grinned and rolled his eyes. "The truth is, people don't realize how much they fidget with stuff until they visit a blind person. Back home, we only had one real functional bathroom, and Luke brushed his teeth more than once with my face cream."

Monty grimaced. "And you prevent that now?"

"He's got his own en suite, so he's safe from random toothpaste-shaped bottles. I don't know if Dallas told you, but he's totally blind. He was born mostly blind with cysts growing around his optic nerves, and he ended up needing to have both eyes removed when he was about six months old."

Monty tried not to let horror show on his face. As a baby, it was ideal. He would have never known a world different. But the choice his fathers had faced must have been a nightmare.

"He's cool with it. Don't feel sorry for him," Bronx said.

Monty shook his head. "It wasn't that. I just imagine it was hard for you to make a choice like that."

Bronx's face did something complicated, and then he let out a breath. "You know, in all the years I've had this kid, no one ever said that to me. And I've gotten some wacky fucking responses." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "But yeah, it sucked. My ex was pissed about it, but I trusted the doctors, and Luke wasn't in pain anymore. I have no regrets. He's a good kid."

"I'm excited to meet him."

"Well, fuck, don't say that. He's a teenager and a meddling one at that. He's definitely going to embarrass me. But he's also my favorite person in the world, so I really want this to go well."

Monty was half-tempted to remind him that it didn't matter if it didn't go well. This wasn't supposed to go anywhere. But he knew the both of them were already toeing that line, and it was only a matter of time before one of them crossed it.

He knew himself that if Bronx asked him to face his fear of being a burden and a shitty boyfriend to be his—completely and totally—he would. Without a moment of hesitation. And he was starting to think that Bronx might feel the same way about him.

He let himself out and kept in close as Bronx led the way inside. The house was dim. No lights were on, and all the windows were open, but the sun was almost set. Bronx flipped a few switches, then gestured around at the living room. "Feel free to get comfy. I think Luke's in his room."

"Luke's in the kitchen studying for the test Marc's giving me on Tuesday," came a voice from the other room. "But please bring your boy toy in here so I can make you both horribly uncomfortable."

"Fuck my life," Bronx muttered. He hesitated, then took Monty's hand and tugged him through a little alcove and around a corner into a dark kitchen. Bronx ran his hand along the wall and eventually flipped a switch to reveal a boy who looked a bit like Dallas sitting at the kitchen table in front of a laptop.

His gaze was very wide, eyes very green and pointed at the far wall. Prosthetics, Monty assumed.

Lucas smiled. "Well?"

"Son, this is my friend Monty. Monty, this is the boy I call son who is on thin ice if he embarrasses me too much. His name is Luke Skywalker?—"

"Really? You want to start a war, old man?" Lucas demanded. He stood up and used one hand on the edge of the table to make his way around, then stuck his other out toward them. "I'm Lucas, not named after George or Skywalker or anything ridiculous like that."

"I happen to be a fan," Monty said, stepping forward to take the boy's hand. His grip was strong—too strong, obviously on purpose. Monty couldn't help but smile. "But I won't hold your hatred against you."

"As long as you don't make any ‘you are my father' jokes, we're cool." Lucas pulled his arm back and began to twitch his fingers at his sides in rhythmic gestures. "Monty, right? My uncle and Kylen's friend. Hella rich guy with a private plane?"

Monty snorted. "Hell of a rich grandfather who died and left it to me. Middle-class lawyer just getting started with a mountain of student loan bills," he corrected.

Lucas grinned wider. "Okay. I like you. I approve. I hear June is a good season for weddings."

Bronx choked. "What did I say? We are friends ."

"Yeah, and I'm going to have a career in streetcar racing," Lucas fired back. "Anyway, I made enchiladas. There's a timer on the oven. I'm going to be super rude and study until we eat because even though I know Lane won't let Marc fire me, he will let him put me on, like, potato duty. Or salads."

"You don't like salads?" Monty wondered.

Lucas laughed. "I used to love them. Then I had to make them for a dinner rush, and we're officially mortal enemies. Now, run along, you two. Go make out and let me have my quiet kitchen back."

Instead of obeying his son, Bronx walked over with a heavy gait, and Monty smiled when he realized Lucas knew what was coming. He lifted his head as Bronx reached down to pet his hair, and he kissed his son on the forehead.

"Love you."

"Now you're embarrassing yourself," Lucas said, grinning from ear to ear. "I love you too. Now, seriously, bruh, get out."

This time, Bronx did obey. He tugged on Monty's hand and pulled him into the living room, flicking the light back off as he went. They settled on the sofa after a beat, and Bronx kicked his feet up, keeping Monty close but not in his arms, which stung a little.

But he also understood why. There were lines, and crossing them in front of Bronx's son was probably not the best idea.

"Does he always sit in the dark?" Monty asked quietly.

Bronx shrugged. "No, but it literally makes no difference to him, and I don't mind saving on the electric bill. It kind of goes both ways though. Sometimes he thinks he's being helpful by turning a light off, and he ends up turning it on while I'm out. I'm sure when he gets his own place, he'll get to feel the sting of the utility bill, and he'll figure out a system."

Monty snorted. "Yeah. It was rough for me, moving out on my own. I never thought about money until I moved away from my father. I have an inheritance from my grandfather, but I haven't wanted to touch it. Nothing has seemed worth it, you know?" Monty flushed. "I'm sure that sounds very privileged. And I'm sure someone would kill to be in my position. My father offered to pay off my loans if I lived where he wanted me to and worked at the law office he chose for me. Very clearly, I turned him down."

"And I don't blame you for that. That guy is a di—" Bronx cut himself off. "Sorry. That's not my place."

"No, you're right. He's a dick," Monty said.

Bronx laughed and reached out like he couldn't help himself. He traced a touch over Monty's lower lip. "I love how that sounds in your accent. When Dallas told me you were French, I kind of pictured the chef from The Little Mermaid ."

Monty glared at him. "Offensive."

"Eh. You'd be cute as hell with that little chef's hat."

"Gross! I can hear you!" Lucas called. "Old people flirting offends me!"

Monty covered his face. "How do you survive with teenagers?"

"By never showing weakness," Bronx said, his voice raised, and they both heard Lucas burst into laughter. "Really, he's a good kid. We didn't get to see each other enough over the last few years, so I think this is kind of payback for that absence."

"Work?"

"He went to a boarding school for the blind. I mean, it had a day program, but it was pretty far from where we lived, and my ex wasn't willing to move. If I could do it again, I'd keep him in the mainstream school down the street from where we were. "

Monty frowned. "Would that have been better for him?"

"I thought he needed the security of the blind school, but it was recently pointed out to me by the people I should have been listening to that learning to function in a sighted world was more beneficial at his age."

Monty blinked. "Who should you listen to?"

"Blind people!" Lucas called.

"Mind your business, you little turd!" Bronx shouted, grinning. He shifted closer to Monty and took his hand, playing with his fingers. "He's right though. I listened to sighted admin who were responsible for making sure they had lots of kids with parents paying tuition or getting state funding. Which was important, but maybe not in Lucas's best interest. I'm trying to make up for it now before he goes off to college. That way, he'll still want to see me, and I won't be some abstract pocketbook paying his tuition."

Monty shook his head. "He loves you. And there's no chance in hell he can't tell how much you love him. Believe me, as a man who knows acutely what it's like to have a father who doesn't care, this is good."

Bronx let out a small sigh, leaning in, but before their lips met, the sound of the oven timer went off. Bronx groaned and tipped his forehead against Monty's neck. "Ruined by the bell."

"I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Right now, trust me, that's exactly what I meant."