Chapter 44: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Goofing around!

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“Wow!” Jean murmured, staring at the rolled joint in the tiny drawer attached to the swing on which he and Bradley sat.

It was the day after Ty had appealed to Jean to keep an eye on Bradley. To do that, Jean had decided not to go to work. He’d left instructions to be contacted only when he was really needed. The two men had spent the day playing video games, watching the sports channel, chatting, and generally just hanging out. Around noon, they’d gotten an unexpected visit from one of Jean’s women, who claimed to have been passing by and had decided, on the spur of the moment, to check in on Jean. Jean got rid of her quickly, to Bradley’s amusement.

They’d decided to relax on the indoor patio after taking their respective showers at the end of a rigorous workout that evening. Bradley thought Jean looked as sexy as fuck in the hot red boxer briefs he’d decided to wear. He tore his eyes off Jean’s strong thighs to look at what had caught his attention.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bradley mumbled. “‘Cause someone told me he doesn’t do drugs.”

“And I don’t,” Jean responded, picking up the joint. “This must be Ralph’s. He must have left it here at the last party. If I’d known this was here two nights ago, I would have smoked it.”

“Why?”

“Why else?” Jean murmured. “I needed to calm myself after…” He trailed off. “The cigarette I smoked definitely hadn’t helped.” He looked intently at the joint.

“Here. Give that to me” Bradley demanded quietly.

Jean handed it over and then watched as Bradley stood without a word and headed for the nearest washroom. When he came back to join him on the swing, he had nothing in his hand. Jean raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I went to flush it down the toilet,” Bradley said quietly. “You were looking at it as if you wanted to light it. I thought I’d take away the temptation. “When was the last time you smoked a joint?”

“College.” Jean chuckled. “I loved shotgun kisses the best. Ever smoked?”

“Yeah. But I don’t anymore.” Bradley watched Jean. It would have been an exhilarating experience to shotgun the hell out of a joint with Jean? He would have gotten close to that mouth at least.

“Hey, we have two more days to Christmas…and dinner with the Broody clan,” Jean said suddenly. He grinned when Bradley groaned. “We need to get you something to wear.”

“What’s the usual dress code?” Bradley sighed.

“It’s dinner. No camouflage, no guns, no grenades, no…”

“Hey dickhead, just tell me what to wear.” Bradley cut Jean off and joined his amused laughter.

Jean stood. “Come on, let’s go to the TV room. We can project outfits for you to choose from.” Jean grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him up. “Trust me, it will be fun.”

Jean’s TV room was basically a cozy mini cinema where people were supposed to relax and enjoy their movies in comfort. It could comfortably seat about thirty people. There were two rows of seven comfy-looking single-seat reclining sofas, four armless single-seater sofas, six cute circular sofas…each big enough for two people, and two hanging bubble chairs. Between the projected screen and the first row of seats were about thirty big, wide and fluffy pillows, scattered on the plush wall-to-wall carpet. And of course, there was Jean’s signature well-stocked bar. The first and only time Bradley had seen the TV room, three words had popped into his mind; comfort, luxury, and sex. And his mind was filled with the same thoughts as he waited for Jean to turn on the projector and air-condition.

“It will be more fun if we relax on the floor and take our time,” Jean said over his shoulders as he moved to where the pillows were.

Before he took a seat, Jean grabbed a tablet from the cabinet in the room and quickly typed something into the search engine. Pictures of male models in different classy outfits instantly popped up on the giant screen. With a satisfied nod, he flopped onto his back on the carpet and pushed a pillow beneath his head. Then without looking at Bradley, he patted the space beside him, indicating that Bradley takes a seat beside him. A resigned-looking Bradley grabbed a pillow and got on his back next to Jean.

“Now, let’s shop.” Jean grinned as he began to scroll through the pictures.

And they had fun looking through and choosing smart outfits. By the time they were done looking they had a nice pair of shoes and four outfits to choose from.

“So what’s it going to be?” Jean asked, taking a sip from the bottle of water beside him. “I must confess I like all of them.”

“Yeah, but I need just one,” Bradley muttered, looking at them.

“How about getting all?” Jean drawled.

“For what? I hardly dress up. Give me t-shirts and military pants any day.” He laughed.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do.” Jean began with all seriousness. “We’re virtually the same size, right? Well, I’m taller but…” His grin was downright cocky.

“You’re six ‘one and I’m six, asshole.” Bradley snorted. “Get over yourself already.”

“I’m still taller.” Jean drawled irritatingly. “So since we wear the same size, I’m going to purchase all four outfits. Then you can pick whatever you like anytime.”

“How about I pay for mine so you purchase the other three?” Bradley countered.

Jean turned his head to look at his houseguest. “I want to get it for you as your birthday present. How about that?”

“You’ve already given me something.” Bradley pointed out.

Jean snorted. “I ate more of that cake, Brad. I can count the number of slices you ate.”

“Not that,” Bradley said quietly.

“What then?” Jean asked, genuinely curious. Then his mind went to the image of Bradley writhing beneath him. “If you’re referring to the fuck, know that it wasn’t a birthday present.” He turned back to the large screen. “You asked for a favour. I did it for you. Simple.”

“You think I don’t know that you only relented because you’d already promised to give me whatever I asked for, as my birthday present? Listen, I have money to buy my own stuff.” Bradley frowned. “I’m no longer poor or struggling so don’t feel you have to do stuff for me.”

Jean rolled onto his stomach so that he was looking down at Bradley. “Stop frowning.” He murmured as he reached out to gently rub Bradley’s creased forehead with a thumb. “Hey, look at me.” He waited until Bradley glanced at him. “I know you’ve got the Lucci. I’m not disputing that. And I applaud and respect you for how far you’ve come.” His rubbing fingers moved to Bradley’s temple, rubbing in soothing circles and unintentionally, causing delicious tingles to slither down Bradley’s spine. The soldier made a conscious effort not to squirm. Unconsciously, however, he leaned into Jean’s touch, making Jean smile. “But let’s face it, I’ve gotta pay for that sweet, tight arse you so shamelessly handed over to me on a silver platter.” Jean drawled, and then braced himself for the explosion he knew would come. When he felt Bradley stiffen against him, he almost burst into laughter.