Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The walls were closing in, and Austin had no idea how to stop it. After their call on Monday, the law school sent Weaver a contract, and he had been spending quite a bit of his time at the law school, working through details and getting himself oriented. Apparently, once they made a decision, they moved quickly. Randy was at the college most days, either in meetings or working on his preparations for his fall classes.

Austin was happy for both of them, but he was also at complete loose ends. He had already unpacked all the boxes, hung the pictures, and set up the porch. He'd even made sure that Randy's office was clean and had ordered the things for Weaver's home office. Basically, he had spent enough time indoors that he was beginning to go as little stir-crazy. What he really needed was a job of some sort, something to occupy his time and make him feel like he was contributing.

The years of modeling had left him fairly well off. He'd always lived as frugally as he could, even in New York, and he'd saved quite a bit of money from his golden years. But that wasn't the issue. He knew that Weaver and Randy loved him, but he also knew they saw him as the member of the family they needed to look out for, the one who needed care and their protection. And maybe that was true, especially after the crap he'd been through. It was nice to know that his men had his back, but he didn't like to think of himself as someone who needed it—more like someone who wanted their support. He was a man, after all, and that meant that he had to make his own way…. The shit thing was that he had no clue what that direction was, especially in a town twenty miles west of Harrisburg and nowhere near the kind of locations where he could get any kind of work. Not that it would make that much of a difference. Austin had to face the truth: he was getting too old to be a real force in modeling any longer. There were plenty of guys who were younger, thinner, and willing to do just about anything to get ahead.

He headed to the back of the house, flopped down on the sofa, and turned on Weaver's big-ass television. After logging into Netflix, he found a cooking series and settled in to watch Chef's Table, hoping for some ideas. He made it halfway through the episode before turning it off. This wasn't helping him, and neither was the urge to go to the kitchen, grab a bag of Cheetos, and finish the damned thing off. Stress-eating was his absolute nemesis.

The doorbell sounded, and he was grateful for the distraction, even if it might only be the UPS guy needing a signature. He hurried to the front. "Hey, Andrew," Austin said, glad for the company, even if it was for a few minutes.

"Dominic and I are hosting the weekly neighborhood get-together this Friday evening. It starts at seven, and all of you are welcome to come on over. Bring a bottle of wine, maybe some munchies, and join us."

"Thanks, that would be great," Austin said.

"How are you all settling in?" Andrew asked.

"Pretty well, I think."

"If you need anything be sure to let us know. We have tools and professionals who will show up and complete the work."

"Thanks. I'm coming to the end of the unpacking. Weaver got a position at the law school, and Randy is off at the college…." He sighed, stopping himself before he could complain. "I'm still trying to figure things out." That sounded pretty good, he thought.

"I understand. I completely changed job directions about fifteen years ago, and it took some getting used to." His smile was genuine. "Give yourself a little time, and don't put a bunch of pressure on yourself."

"I suppose." That had not been a reaction he expected. "But I have to find something. I was thinking about starting some sort of business, but I have no idea what kind."

"You were a fashion model, right?" Andrew blushed a little. "I looked you up on Instagram. If you want to stay within that sort of area, then maybe clothing. Carlisle is a smaller town, but there's Mechanicsburg and Camp Hill as well as Harrisburg, and if we want anything really fashionable, we have to go to New York or Philadelphia. Either that or shop online, and I don't know about you, but half of what I buy goes back because it doesn't fit. Large, extra-large… there's no consistency." Andrew snapped his fingers. "Maybe become a fashion design consultant. You could help with various aspects of design and clothing, sort of a local lifestyle helper."

Austin wasn't sure if that was what he wanted, but he appreciated Andrew's suggestions. "Like I said, I have to think about it and figure stuff out. But I'd like to stick with something in fashion. It's what I really know."

Andrew nodded. "I should let you get back to your unpacking. I need to return to my latest story, but I hope to see all of you on Friday." He smiled and then turned, stepping off the porch as Austin closed the front door. Maybe there was something to what Andrew had suggested, but Austin needed to figure it out.

"You should do it," Weaver said as soon as Austin told him about the fashion idea once he got home from the law school. "It would play to your strengths. I bet there isn't anyone in town with your kind of knowledge, and the only nicer clothing store I see here is for brides." He really did think this was a good idea. "Have you told Randy?"

"No. And I don't really want to yet because I don't know if there's anything in it. It sounds good, but who is going to hire me or pay high-fashion prices for clothes here?" It sounded like Austin was already discounting the notion, and Weaver hated that. It was what he always did—downplaying his talents and gifts. Austin had so many, but he never seemed to see them himself.

"I think you should. It's a good idea. Besides, clothes don't have to be expensive to be fashionable. They just need to be—" Weaver looked down at his tan pants and blue shirt. "—not boring, and allow for self-expression. And that's something you can do big-time." Clearly, Austin wasn't seeing it, and maybe he was right; quite possibly, Weaver was still thinking like they were New York as opposed to Carlisle. It could be that he wanted Austin to feel settled, and he was being a little pushy. "But you can do plenty of things."

Austin shrugged. "Like I said, I don't know if the idea is worth pursuing or not." He backed away and then went to the kitchen.

Weaver thought of following him, but knew Austin probably needed a chance to think. So instead, he went upstairs to change into shorts and an old T-shirt. He returned down the stairs as Randy arrived home, his expression thunderous. "What's going on?" Weaver asked.

"Politics. Fucking college politics. Instead of just getting the job done so we can all move on, some members of the committee have started throwing their little bombs over the wall just so they can watch what happens. I'm starting to think that I should have stayed in the gym business." He set down his bag. Randy was a hothead sometimes. Especially when he got himself spun up, and Weaver could just imagine his response to these "bombs."

"Every job is going to be like that, and these committees are a necessary evil, especially during the summer. In a few months, classes will start, and you'll get to do what you came here to do: teach and impart some of the things you've learned." He lightly patted Randy's chest, loving the firmness underneath the cotton shirt. "Give it time, and remember to try to get the bomb-throwers on your side. People often do that when they feel they aren't being heard." The storm seemed to be passing and finally broke when Randy slipped a hand around his waist, pulling him to his chest and kissing him hard, almost possessively.

An amazing smoky scent drifted in from the kitchen, immediately making his belly growl and cutting off their conversation. The two of them went on through to where Austin had a pan of bacon in the oven and was slicing a tomato and making toast. "I thought BLTs for dinner. It should be about fifteen minutes." Tension rolled off Austin as well as Randy. Weaver knew it was for different reasons.

"Could you put a little turkey on mine?" Randy asked.

"Sure," Austin agreed, pulling open the refrigerator, grabbing the deli bag, and placing it on his work space. Randy turned to him for an explanation, like Weaver was supposed to know everything. He tilted his head toward the family room, and Randy followed him in. Weaver turned on the television as Randy cocked an eyebrow in a silent question.

"What's going on?" Randy asked as he sat down.

"Why don't you just ask me?" Austin demanded from the doorway. "I know the two of you have been together longer and that you have this silent communication thing that happens between you." He rounded on Randy under a full head of steam. "But I've got news for you. If you want to know what shit is going on with me, just ask. Don't sit in your damned little corner trying to figure it out between yourselves like I'm some toy you need to fucking fix." He poked Randy in the chest a few times and then stormed out of the room.

"Are you trying to stir things up?" Randy growled, getting to his feet and flying into the kitchen. In an instant, the testosterone in the air rose to heady heights. Weaver could almost smell it, and his heart pounded with it. He took a deep breath and waited.

"You already did that," Austin countered. "You did plenty of that when you dragged us here."

"Shit…," Weaver said out loud, and headed to the kitchen, where Austin and Randy stood glaring at each other, arms crossed, both men breathing heavily, like they were bulls getting ready to fight for territory. "Guys," Weaver said calmly. "Remember, we all agreed to come here and to do this. Randy got a good job, and it was an opportunity he really wanted to take."

Austin broke the stare down first. "And you got a job you've always wanted, too, and…." His words broke off.

"You'll find something you'll love," Weaver said softly, both of his men settling down. He inhaled and quickly pulled open the oven door.

"Shit," Austin yanked on an oven mitt, rescuing the bacon before it burned. "I guess I can't do anything right." He strode out of the kitchen. Randy watched after him, then turned to Weaver as though he were supposed to fix this.

"All you, big guy," Weaver said.

"Yeah, I guess," Randy confessed, which completely tickled Weaver. "I just asked why he was so wound up, and I still don't fucking know."

Weaver rolled his eyes. "You should by now." He held Randy's gaze, giving him a few seconds for everything to sink in.

"Okay. But what do I do to fix it?" That was part of why Weaver loved this man. He truly wanted to try to solve their problems. Hell, Randy would take on every challenge either of them had, head-on, or he'd fight any battle for them just to try to resolve their issues and make them happy.

"Maybe what you need to do is go into the living room, fling Austin over your shoulder, take him upstairs, and do what you are the very best at." Weaver smiled, knowing his eyes were probably already dilating at the very thought, because there were few sights sexier than those two together.

"That isn't going to fix anything," Randy countered, but Weaver could tell by the shallowness of his breathing that the idea had appeal.

"There is no solution. Not one we can provide. This is something Austin has to figure out on his own." He held Randy's gaze until he nodded and then strode out of the room. Weaver turned off the oven and closed the door. A squeak followed by a grunt from Randy told him all he needed to know. After slipping things back into the refrigerator, he strode to the stairs, pulling his shirt up over his head as he went. By the time he reached their bedroom door, his shoes were off. He paused in the doorway.

Randy had Austin on his back on the bed, legs apart, his weight pressing Austin against the mattress. They were chest to chest, clothes still on, both rocking slowly, their gazes locked on each other's. Randy was talking, but whatever he was saying was too soft to hear. The heat in the room hit Weaver like a furnace, but he stayed where he was until both of his men slowly turned toward him.

Randy stayed still, watching Weaver, loving the view of him in the doorway. Austin slowly extended his hand, and Weaver moved forward, his abs flexing slightly with each step.

"You two okay?" Weaver asked softly. Austin nodded, his eyes wide. Weaver came around behind Randy, his hands sliding around Randy's waist before tugging at the hem of his shirt. Randy lifted his arms, letting Weaver undress him. His pants followed until Randy was naked. Then he shifted and Austin was next, stripped before his hungry eyes. "You better not have been expecting slow," he growled at Austin, tugging him to the edge of the bed.

Randy's heart pounded and his pulse raced. He lifted Austin's legs before slowly sinking his spit-lubed cock into him. Austin gasped, his eyes glazing over as their bodies connected. This was what he needed and what Austin seemed to want as well. That amazing body just opened to him, surrounding him in heat that pulled at Randy. Almost as soon as Randy seated himself, he pulled out before slamming back into Austin, who had drawn Weaver down into a kiss that quickly included him.

The temperature in the room skyrocketed, sweat beading on Randy as well as his other two men, the bubble of passion around all three of them growing more intense by the second.

"Fuck…," Austin cried as Randy sped up, snapping his hips. Weaver joined in, slipping his lips around Austin's straining cock. Austin moaned and rocked on the bed, his entire body quivering under them.

"Yeah, baby. Just let us love on you," Randy whispered, and Weaver pulled away to kiss Austin deeply. It was an amazing sight, and one Randy loved to see. These two men gave his life meaning, and Randy would do anything for them.

"Yeah…," Austin whimpered as Weaver sucked him hard, all three of them moving to the pace Randy set. "Not gonna last…."

"It's okay," Randy said. "Let it all go. You don't need to hold on anymore. Just let yourself go, and Weaver and I will be right there with you." In that moment, he wasn't sure if he meant in their love-making or in life. Maybe it was both, but Austin did let go, and soon all three of them were flying together.

Randy lay with Austin in his arms, Weaver pressed against his back, all three of them in a sweaty heap. "Are you feeling better?" Randy whispered.

"I guess I'm less stressed, but I still need to figure out what I'm going to do," Austin said.

Randy sighed, knowing it was true. Too bad a good fucking didn't actually solve life's problems.

"You'll figure it out," Weaver said, and Austin nodded, but his response didn't convince Randy. There was more going on here than just the fact that Austin hadn't figured out what he wanted to do. Austin had always been careful with his money, and Randy knew he had a sizable nest egg, so this wasn't a cash kind of issue.

"I know we keep asking, but what do you want?" Randy almost held his breath, hoping like hell that Austin didn't say to go back to New York. But if that was what he needed….

Austin slipped out of his arms, sliding upward until he was propped up by the pillows. "I have no fucking idea. That's what scares me. The things I know how to do aren't valued here, and I'm not even sure I want to continue in that world." He half smiled, and Randy held his hand while Weaver slipped out of bed and climbed back in on the other side of Austin. "That's part of the problem. I have no idea what I want. I'm not going to model any longer. I'm getting too old."

"You are not old," Randy growled. "You're hot and sexy as hell." Okay, maybe that was a little of his own insecurity coming out. Chronologically, he was the oldest of the group—five years older than Austin. He would never say anything about it, but he dreaded the morning he found gray hair, and judging by how it happened with his father, it was bound to happen soon. "And you always will be."

"Thanks," Austin said before rolling his eyes. "From the man who only gets sexier with each passing year." He ran his fingers through Randy's chest hair, and Randy closed his eyes to the warm touch. "I know I'm stressing, and I know both of you feel it, but I've got to do this. You both want to help, but I don't think you can. Other than being there." Austin kissed each of them before slipping off the bed, wincing as he began dressing.

"Did I hurt you?" Randy asked.

Austin shook his head. "Nope. Just a little sore from your ride halfway to the moon." He pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before heading to the door. "I'm going to finish making lunch." He left, and Randy watched every movement until Austin disappeared from sight.

"We have to fix this somehow. Otherwise, it's only a matter of time before he decides he needs to leave, and I don't think I can deal with that." Randy was strong and could handle just about anything, but it had taken a long time for him to truly feel whole, and both Weaver and Austin were big parts of that.

"You heard what he said," Weaver told him.

Randy shrugged and then slid off the bed. "And I also saw how lost he looked in the fucking kitchen." There had to be something they could do to help.