Chapter 11: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Emotional trauma!

***

Bradley shook as he covered his face in his palms. Why now, he asked himself. The last time he’d heard that voice in his head, he’d still been a teen. But then, he’d never been aroused by a man since he was a teen. Till Jean. What the fuck was wrong with him, Bradley raged at himself. Was it the drugs he’d been taking? Was it fucking with his brain? He was a good-looking young man who had no problem attracting the fairer sex. When he wasn’t busy on a mission or an assignment, he had his share of the ladies. And even if it wasn’t as fulfilling as he’d have wished, it worked just fine. So he was really confused and disturbed by what had happened. Why now, after all these years?

Bradley didn’t move from the bed for a long time. He wallowed in fear, shock, and anger. That anger was however directed at himself. What exactly had he thought, he asked himself. That shutting his mind to what he loved would automatically…heal him of his preferences? Well, he’d been given a rude awakening for sure. With a curse, Bradley stood up and slowly but determinedly, walked out of his room. Some pain would hopefully get his mind off his unpleasant thoughts.

When he got to the foyer, he turned towards the beautifully designed cozy, wooden, spiral staircase. It was time to explore what was up there.

***

“Damnit,” Bradley growled breathlessly as he turned and leaned against the door.

He should have known the door would be locked. From Jean’s dodgy response when he’d asked him what the third room was, he should have grabbed some knives before coming up the stairs. He’d really wanted to see what was in that room. He breathed harshly as he glanced around from his position against the locked door.

Just as was downstairs, there was an elegant cozy seating area, made up in lemon green. Bradley made a mental note to relax there and watch TV if he was too tired to go down the stairs after his exploration. With an angry exhale, he moved to the door he suspected led to Jean’s bedroom. It wasn’t locked. Bradley opened the door and stared, wide-eyed.

“Damn.” He breathed as he took in the enormous and exceptionally luxurious master bedroom with its grand ceiling heights and elegant, draping curtains.

The room had a gorgeous white and grey heavy color scheme, and a uniquely designed curved half wall, that gave it a lot of charm. The white brick Tuscan style fireplace which had above it a sixty-inch curved LED TV added a touch of sophistication to the already stunning room. There was a seating area in the corner, anchored by a beautiful Persian rug that Bradley couldn’t resist walking on barefoot. To the back of the room was a sumptuous dressing area and en-suite bathroom, complete with a roll-top bath.

To say that Bradley was impressed would be too mild a word. What blew his mind was the sleeping area. The room actually had a second-floor loft, which featured a low-set massive bed. Bradley could have sworn that bed was bigger than king-size. The guy was just one person, he thought with a look of incredulity. Why did he need that big a bed?

After a quick look in the study, which was as classy as the rest of the house, Bradley went to the mini-bar in the seating area, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and then went to relax in one of the plush lemon green couches. He turned on the TV to watch but drifted off to sleep in no time. And that was where Jean found him when he got back home.

“You must be shitting me.” Jean barked when he got upstairs and found his patient asleep in the seating area, startling Bradley awake. “You know…for a soldier, you really don’t know how to follow rules and orders.” He growled.

“Ever heard of sleepwalking?” Bradley rasped, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah right.” Jean chuckled. “You’re so stubborn. We might as well eat here. I’ll be right back.”

Jean served them some really palatable curried chicken with baked potatoes that his parents’ cook had given him. Of course, he poured himself a glass of red wine to go with his meal but gave Bradley a bottle of water.

“It’s not good to mix drugs and alcohol.” He grinned when Bradley glared at his glass of wine.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bradley grumbled. “Listen, I’ve told Ty to send you a cheque for my upkeep and medical…”

“I’ve already told him that won’t be necessary.” Jean cut Bradley off.

“Dude, I can’t…”

“I don’t need your money to be able to feed you or give you medical care, Bradley.” Jean glared at his houseguest. “Don’t insult me.”

“Jean…”

“Let’s just say I’m doing this for my country.” He shrugged. “After all, I got you shot.” He suddenly grinned.

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about that,” Bradley growled. “I’m just not comfortable leeching off you this way.”

“You’re not,” Jean assured him. “Besides, although I would have preferred a more…curvy and voluptuous houseguest, it’s nice to have someone around.”

Bradley snorted. “As if my being here would stop you from having such houseguests. You’re just…”

Jean laughed. “Vegas huh?” He assumed Bradley was referring to their time in Vegas. “That was some shit. I’d have killed Ty if he hadn’t invited me.”

“You’re a man-whore.” Bradley muttered.

“Yeah, sue me. By the way, Ty sent you some stuff. Clothes.”

“All right.”

They enjoyed the meal immensely as there was nothing left by the time they were done. After relaxing for a while, Jean helped Bradley down the stairs and back to his room. Of course, it was only after Bradley got to his room that he remembered he’d forgotten to ask Jean to open that door for him to see what was in there. But just as he was about to bring it up, Ty called. He watched Jean leave to give him some privacy and made a mental note to bring up the subject another time.