Chapter 21: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Insulting offer!

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Both men continued to eat quietly. But for the tension between the two, it was a good meal. Afterward, Jean insisted on clearing the table since Bradley had done the cooking. He took his sweet time washing the dishes because he had a lot on his mind. By the time he came out of the kitchen, Bradley had already retired to his room. Jean stared at the closed door for a moment and then turned towards the stairs. But before he got to the top of the stairs, he came back down and went to knock on Bradley’s door, opening the door when he heard a muffled ‘come in’.

Jean entered the room to find Bradley standing in the room with a towel around his waist and another in his hand, rubbing his head. No wonder his voice had sounded muffled, Jean thought. He waited patiently till Bradley uncovered his head. He tried not to allow his eyes to linger on that perfect chiseled body. There was no doubt that the soldier had a fine body, just like any other well-maintained male body. Nothing sexual or special right? So why the fuck was he getting all hot and bothered, he raged at himself silently.

“Is there a problem?” Bradley asked with a curious look.

“No. No problem.” Jean said, closing the door behind him. “I just…listen if…I know people.”

“Uh-huh?” Bradley looked at the struggling doctor, wondering exactly what Jean was trying to say. It was so unlike the man to struggle to say what was on his mind. “People?”

Jean looked as if he’d been given the task of informing a family that they’d lost a loved one. “If you want to err…have sex, I can call someone to…”

“I don’t need you to find me a prostitute or a rentboy or whoever, Jean,” Bradley said coldly. “And I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me by offering.”

“I just want to help.”

“Thanks but I don’t need your help.” Bradley folded his arms across his impeccable abs and stared at Jean. “And I’m not going to rape you if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if I attempt, you can always decide not to…” He gave Jean’s crotch a pointed look. “…rise to the occasion. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be alone.” He said quietly as he started for the closet.

“Bradley…”

“Leave, Jean.”

Jean continued to stare at Bradley. What he’d just admitted to him must have taken a lot of courage to do. He already knew that Bradley wouldn’t be dominant in bed. A power bottom maybe. But definitely not the Top. What worried Jean, however, was the defeated look on the soldier’s face as he’d admitted that. What was Bradley’s story, Jean wondered. What had happened to him to make him that way? Jean really wished Bradley could talk to him but he also knew that he wasn’t going to get anything out of the troubled man, that moment. Without another word, he left the room.

When the door closed after Jean, Bradley leaned his head against the cool glass of the closet and breathed harshly. So it had come to this, he thought with humiliation. He’d been so shamefully obvious, his host now felt he needed to get his faggot of a houseguest some cock huh? Bradley was filled with so much self-loathing he trembled. ‘You’re so pathetic’. He heard his father’s words. ‘Why don’t I do all of us a favour and cut off your genitals since you’d rather get plowed by a fellow male’s penis? Last time I checked, I had a son, not a daughter, you disgusting boy. You are not just sick in the head, you’re filthy. Never come back if you value your life.’

Bradley buried his face in his hands and groaned as if he was in pain. And he was. His chest hurt. He was finding it difficult to breathe. He began to gasp for breath as he slowly slid to the floor right there in front of the closet. Not again, Bradley lamented silently. After he’d left home, he’d started having panic attacks all the time, until he joined the army and locked away his problems. But he remembered how it felt. At least it didn’t feel like he was about to have a full-blown attack and for that, he was grateful. He just needed to work on his breathing.

Bradley kept inhaling to fill his lungs with the air that suddenly seemed inadequate. But even when he could breathe easier, he remained on the floor. Shame and wretchedness washed over him just as it had all those years ago as he’d listened to his father. Knowing that he’d disappointed his father had hurt, but so had the hurtful words the angry man had hurled at him.

Although he’d been just a kid, he knew that no father would walk in on his son having sex and be happy about it. It must have been very strange and shocking from his father’s point of view so he’d understood the man’s rage. What had shocked him though was getting thrown out of his home, at that age by a man who was not only his father but also a reverend minister. Shouldn’t that have made his father more forgiving?

When his mother had tried to plead on his behalf, his father had angrily told her that it would have been okay if he’d caught him having sex with a girl, or if he was being raped. He couldn’t accept the fact that his son had actually been enjoying that filthy act. He said he’d rather Bradley was dead than alive because it was an abomination to be homosexual and he wasn’t ready to endure that disgrace as a minister. And when Reverend Jackson entered his bedroom and come out with a cocked pistol, Bradley had fled.

Bradley had been confused at the time. He couldn’t tell whether his father had been more upset about the sex of the person he’d been having sex with or the fact that he’d obviously been enjoying the act. Did enjoying getting fucked make him filthy? Did that need to be held and loved and dominated by another male, take away his maleness? He’d hated seeing the disappointment and condemnation in his father’s eyes. But he’d also been crushed by how harshly the man had reacted. He’d vowed, that night as he fled, never to be with a man sexually. That resolution had more to do with what he’d caused that evening than his father’s hurtful words. He’d known how much he needed a man’s touch and felt that was the best punishment to give to himself.

He’d also decided to man up. He was going to do things that were expected of men. That craving for a man to dominate him was going to be a thing of the past. And he’d done just that. The profession he’d chosen said it all. Bradley Jackson was all man. So why was he craving the feel of the masculine arms of a particular man around him after years of denying himself? Why was he dying to feel Jean Broody deep inside him? And why was he wishing Jean could dominate him completely? Bradley had never felt so much torment in his life.