Who’s Your Daddy? All or Nothing Excerpt

 

Little rough as it’s only been through one round of beta reading, but here’s an excerpt from the third Nicky & Brandon Novel:  All or Nothing.

Not bothering to turn on the light, Brandon staggered into Nicky’s office.  He tried to be quiet, but it was hard laboring under seventy-five pounds of dead weight.  Shayna was completely and utterly out, to the point of drooling on his shoulder out.  What happened to sugar and spice?  And when the hell did Shayna get so big.  Ahead of him, at about shin level, was his goal: her cot.  No way in hell could he bend down and get her in bed without throwing out his back. Long gone were the days when Shayna could snuggle in the crook of his arm.  Not that he’d had many of those. 

A little twinge of regret tugged at the bottom of his heart. 

Instead of bending over, Brandon squatted enough that Shayna’s feet could touch the floor.  It wasn’t that far down.  When the hell did she get so tall too? “Come on Princess, you got to stand up.”  Coaxing, he tried to hold her up and unzip her jacket at the same time.  “Help me here, Shayna.”  With the light bleeding in from the hallway, he could almost see what he was doing.

 

She swayed and her eyes fluttered, “Daddy?” At least her feet were under her.

 

That little tug turned into a big wrenching twist.  How had it gotten so bad that she called some other man daddy and Brandon was just…Brandon?  He knew: his own damn fault for not being there. 

“Okay, Princess.” Brandon managed to slide the jacket off her shoulders and ease her to sitting on the bed.  “Let’s get your sneakers off.” She could sleep in her clothes, they were clean enough.  As she blinked and yawned, Brandon pulled the locator up and over her head.  Then he tugged her shoes off.

 

She yawned again. “Brandon?”  It must have penetrated her drowsy brain that Brandon wasn’t Frank.

 

Brandon settled her back on the little bed.  “Yeah, Shayna.” Thankfully, Nicky’d put some extra blankets under the cot.  There was no way for him to get Shayna into the sleeping bag. 

As he shook out one and spread it over her, Shayna mumbled. “I miss daddy and mommy.”

 

Taking in a deep breath, Brandon tried to come up with something profound and fatherly.  And not jealous that she missed her stepfather when Brandon was right there.  The most coherent thing he could manage was, “That’s okay.”  God, he sucked at this father gig.  “Look, Princess, I’m here.” He folded the jacket under the bed, put her sneakers on top of that and dropped the locator fob into one of the shoes.  “Just yell if you need me.” 

“Mmm, hmm.” Shayna breathed, drifting back under again.  Yeah, long day for all of them.  Brandon shook out another blanket and laid that over the first.  Hopefully, it’d be warm enough.  Elbows cocked on the edge of the bed, butt resting on his heels, Brandon stared at his little girl while she slept. 

Brushing a little bit of stray hair off her face, it hit Brandon. Shayna relied on him to keep her safe. He kind of felt that way about Nicky, but Nicky was a big boy, an adult.  Honestly, for the most part, he could take care of himself.  Shayna couldn’t.  It all rested on Brandon’s shoulders and the weight was damn near crushing.  So strange: a person who was part of him.  Depended on him.  His responsibility. 

As a cop, Brandon knew responsibility—in that big, amorphous global sense.  This felt nine kinds of different: personal, concrete and fucking scary.

 

He stayed there for a while, indulging in a daddy’s prerogative, watching his child sleep.  At least until his knees started to protest.  Then Brandon stood and ran his hands over his face.  Man, he was bushed too.  How could just kicking around with his kid wear him out so much?  Brandon wandered back out to Nicky’s living room.  A beer and a shower sounded like heaven.

 

Pretty much the only light was that in the hall and a flicker of something on the flat-screen TV.  The sound wasn’t up, so Brandon ignored the idiot box…probably wrestling highlights or extreme fighting: Nicky’s mind candy of choice.  Nicky sat on his old Victorian couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table.  Black slim-line jeans hugged his legs and rode up over the tops of his combat boots.  A red t-shirt, with an upside down cross stenciled in gray and black on the front, stretched tight over a nice layer of muscle and warm-brown skin.  Goddamn, he looked like a modern day Dracula.  Sans the long hair – Nicky had grown it out some, but it’d only been about six months since they’d had to cut off the mid-back black fall to stitch his head back together.  Right now in the growing out process it hovered between grunge-rock mess and heroin chic.  Still looked incredible on him.  Lean, brown and sexy, with strong features and dark eyes, nobody else ever managed to rock Brandon like Nicky.   

And Brandon really didn’t need to be thinking about that right then.

 

Nicky smiled across the dim room.  Two beers sat on the table; like Nicky’d read his mind.  Who’d have thought that Brandon would ever find someone so right?  Second thing that night which scared the shit out of Brandon.  Despite all the differences – out and not quite out, biker Goth vs. vampire-Victorian Goth, cop and gaming control – he and Nicky just meshed.

 

Ignoring the twinge of panic, Brandon walked over, grabbed one of the beers and dropped onto the sofa next to Nicky. “Princess is down for the count.” First he took a deep swig then twisted his body so that his head was in Nicky’s lap and his legs rested on the arm of the couch.  Just that little bit of closeness felt wonderful after a long drive and a long tour of the strip.  “I think I may follow her lead.” Brandon managed to get it out through his yawn.  “You got work tomorrow, right?”

 

Nicky shifted, dropping one arm over Brandon’s chest.  “Unfortunately.” Nicky snorted.  “What, you thinking it’s time for bed or something?”  His fingers absently danced along Brandon’s ribs.

 

Realization struck Brandon that if he stayed in this position much longer, he’d pass out.  He couldn’t believe he was that exhausted.  “Yeah.” Brandon struggled to sit up. “I’ll get the couch ready.”

 

Nicky used the arm across Brandon’s chest to pull him back down.  “What?”

 

Brandon rolled his head to look up at Nicky.  “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” The stare Brandon got in response was a mixture of frustrated and murderous.  Looked damn sexy on Nicky; of course everything looked damn sexy on Nicky.  “Ze couch, she is not made for sleeping.” He intoned in a fake French accent. Dropping the tease, Nicky added.  “Seriously, I own the most uncomfortable couch in the world for that.” Nicky shoved Brandon’s shoulder, pushing him off his lap.  As Nicky struggled to stand, he ordered, “Get your butt in bed. I haven’t seen you in three, four weeks.  You’ve been covering everyone else’s shifts since Thanksgiving.”

 

Normally Nicky’s order would rev Brandon to hot and horny in a matter of seconds.  With his daughter in the house – no he couldn’t go there.  “Nicky, come on.” Brandon rolled as he sat up so his legs came off the arm of the couch and hit the floor.  Palming his face again, he stifled another yawn. “I’m not sure I’m ready for Shayna to know we sleep in the same bed.”

 

“Sooner or later,” Nicky huffed, “she’s going to figure that out.” He reached out for his beer.  Brandon sensed that’s what Nicky wanted, grabbed it off the table and passed it over.  After a muttered, “Thanks,” Nicky seemed to mull things over.  Finally, he asked, “Do you really want to start your relationship with Shayna off on false pretenses?  Think about it.  Are we hiding or not?  I’d rather not.” After another swig, Nicky sighed.  “I’m not child psychologist, but, babe, she’s just getting to know you now…if you start with lies, can’t be good.”

 

“Damn it, Nicky.” Brandon groused.  “Going all philosophical on me.”  They’d winged the Shayna part of this trip without much thought.  Fuck, there hadn’t been time to actually plan, much less discuss issues like sleeping arrangements.  He’d just assumed that Nicky would go along with him.  He didn’t want a fight, but Brandon wasn’t ready to give in either.

 

Nicky flashed a tight smile.  “Look, I don’t mean to be a downer.”  With another huff, he uncrossed his arms and stuck one hand in his back pockets.  He used the beer in the other to point from the couch to the corner of the house where his bedroom was.  “But, come on, sleep where you always do when you’re here.” Downing another swig, he added, “If you treat it like it’s no big thing…then it isn’t.  Get my drift?”

 

“No.”  He just couldn’t do the sleeping arrangements.  If he went to bed with Nicky, one thing would lead to another and they’d end up naked, sweaty and…no that couldn’t happen.

 

Exasperated, Nicky threw up both his hands.  “Why not?”  Beer sloshed out of the bottle and onto the floor.  Nicky glared at the damp spot then at Brandon like he should have warned him or something.

 

“Feels weird.”

 

“Well, I’m getting something tonight.”  Nicky pulled himself straight up and crossed his arms over his chest.  The glare his face fell into almost intimidated Brandon.  “So, I can fuck you on the living room couch, open to the rest of the house, or in my bedroom which has a door.” When he smiled the little points on his canines became very visible.  Nicky had Goth-vampire nailed…naturally.  It was lecherous, dangerous and fucking hot.  “Your choice.”  He growled.

 

Still, Brandon couldn’t see it.  The whole idea just hit him too creepy.  “Not a good idea, Nicky.”  God, his protest sounded wussy to his own ears.

 

“Look.  Okay.” Nicky dropped the hype.  “Let’s fool around some.  Make out?” He grinned again.  “Please, come on, I hate begging, but dude I miss you.”  Although less menacing, it still came off as lecherous, dangerous and fucking hot.  Brandon stuffed the thought down.  “HeYou can come back out to the couch afterward.” Like he couldn’t fathom Brandon’s reluctance, he added, “If that’s what you really want.”

 

“It’s just weird.” Glancing back toward the office, Brandon stood.  He chewed his bottom lip for a bit.  “The thought of screwing around with Shayna in the house.”

 

“You know.” Nicky stepped in close and butted Brandon’s shoulder with his own.  Almost conspiratorially, he whispered, “I have an older sister.  That means my parents were screwing around while one of their kids was in the house.” 

“Why is that so disturbing?” Brandon snorted.  He pushed back. “I mean, not your parents having sex…the thought that there’s more than one of you out there?” 

“Asshole.” Nick removed his hand from his own back pocket, grabbed Brandon’s beer and set both bottles on the table.  Then he slid his arms around Brandon’s middle and into Brandon’s back pockets.  “Come on.” He breathed against Brandon’s neck.  The contact was so tenuous, and so sensual for it, that the hairs on the back of Brandon’s neck stood up as every other inch of his body focused attention on Nicky. “It’s not like this is a first date.” Nicky kissed Brandon’s chin before he started walking them backwards toward his bedroom. “We have something here.  And I’m not going to tie you up or anything.”

 

Despite his words and his misgivings, Brandon didn’t resist being drawn to bedroom. He couldn’t resist Nicky…ever.  “You’re too reasonable.”

 

“Horny men are desperate men,” he teased, “we’ll even resort to logic to get laid.”

 

Well, he could resist that.  Brandon jerked back.  Pulling Nicky’s hands out of his pockets, Brandon growled, “I said no.”  Still, he had to go into the bedroom, that’s where his clothes were.  Not unless he wanted to sleep in his jeans.  He pushed past Nicky into the short hall.

 

Nicky’s rebuke, “You are such a buzz kill,” followed Brandon into the bedroom with its red curtains and purple walls.  Like everything in Nicky’s house, the room gave off the ambiance of a horror show whore house.  Lots of thick drapes, tons of rich colors and heavy antique furniture – most of it inherited off Nicky’s grandparents along with the house.  Brandon knew chicks who didn’t put half as much effort into their digs as Nicky.

 

Brandon knelt next to his duffle and yanked out a pair of pajama pants.  Normally at Nicky’s, he’d have crashed in his briefs.  Without looking at Nicky, but aware of his approach through boots on wood floors, Brandon chastised, “No, you’re a horn dog.”  Shit, he wondered if the damn things fit him.  Brandon couldn’t remember the last time he wore the bottoms.  Probably the last time he’d been up to his dad’s place.

Springs groaned as Nicky sat on the edge of his bed.  “Guilty as charged.”  He grumbled. 

Brandon looked over to see Nicky fussing with the laces to his combat boots.  Nicky sat on the bed, the lounge pants rested on top of the old dresser, right next to the resin demon doing a hand-stand, and the door stood wide open.  God, Brandon couldn’t decide if winning Shayna over to Nicky was harder than getting Nicky to remember that a nine year old girl slept down the hall.  With an over-emphasized grunt, Brandon stood.  He stalked to the door and closed it forcefully – just short of slamming since he didn’t want to wake Shayna.  Then he grabbed the lounge pants off the dresser, balled them up and pitched them at Nicky’s head.

Pulling one of the legs off his face, Nicky sneered, “Pissy, pissy, pissy.”  He wadded the pants next to his hip.  Kicking his boots off, Nicky asked, “What the fuck is your deal tonight?” 

“You’re just going to get naked while the door’s wide open?” He snapped. Brandon felt his face and shoulders go tight. “Can you not remember that Shayna’s here?”

 

Nicky rolled his eyes.  “One, I’m just taking off my goddamn boots and two,” speaking slow, like he thought Brandon was too dense to get it, “how could I possibly forget when you remind me every other second?”

 

Brandon leaned back against the dresser, his hands against the wood, and stared.  Nicky sat on the bed and stared back.  Seconds ticked by on the clock.  Finally, Brandon dropped his eyes.  “I’m sorry, babe.”  He didn’t want to be mad at Nicky, ever.  “I’m just so nervous.” He wandered over to the bed and dropped down next to Nicky.  Hands hanging loose between his knees, he sighed and gave a slight shrug.  “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I know.”  Nicky reached out, grabbed his shoulder.  With a strong squeeze of his hand, he reassured Brandon. “But you need to relax, okay.” The pressure turned into rubbing, a firm grip working the knots in Brandon’s muscles.  “Things will be fine.”

 

“Did tonight go okay?” Flopping back on the mattress, Brandon tried to rub the tension out of his temples with his fingers. “You think I did alright?”

 

Nicky leaned over.  His elbow slid into the pit of Brandon’s arm and Nicky’s hip rolled against Brandon’s thigh.  “You’re asking me?” Running his other palm absently over Brandon’s abs, he thought for a moment before adding, “I think so.  I think the big thing is you’re tying and that counts.”

 

He so didn’t deserve anyone like Nicky.  “You’re too good for me, Nicky.”

 

“No shit,” Nicky moved in closer, almost nose to nose, “Sherlock.”  Then Nicky dropped that last inch or so and kissed him. 

Brandon shuddered.  Yeah, it’d been two months.  Still, he managed to pull back enough to mumble, “Nicky, what are you doing?”

“Come on.” His touch worked heat into Brandon’s middle.  The sensation wicked through his frame making every inch of his body stand up and pay attention to how near Nicky was. Like he didn’t even notice Brandon’s reaction, Nicky purred, “At least give me a good night kiss.”

 

Bullshit.  “A good night kiss?”  Brandon wrapped his grip around Nicky’s arm, intending to pull him back from the strokes.  Instead, Brandon found himself running his hand up and down the warm skin of Nicky’s arm.  And what he really wanted was for Nicky to kiss him again. 

“With tongue preferably.” Nicky brushed his lips against Brandon’s and whispered, “But I’ll take what I can get.”

 

“Fuck you, Nicky.”  His protest came out half hearted at best. 

“That’s what I’m trying for!  Sheesh.” He laughed and the sound tickled down Brandon’s spine.

 

Brandon breathed deep.  The scent of Nicky: sweat, a faint ghost of cologne and oil from the bike blended into an intoxicating mix.  “God, you smell good, you know that?”  Brandon had missed that. 

“Yeah.” Grabbing Brandon’s wrists, Nicky wrestled them up and over Brandon’s head. “Think so?” Brandon struggled enough to make a show at resistance, but not enough to actually break away.  He knew he shouldn’t give in.  He wanted to give in.   Finally, Nicky pinned Brandon’s hands against the rails of the wrought-iron headboard and nipped along Brandon’s chin.  The tiny pricks of pain and a little restraint…Nicky knew just how to make him want more.  His prick swelled in response.  That reaction caused all sorts of other twinges and pinches.  With his hands trapped, Brandon couldn’t even adjust his dick to a more comfortable position.  All he could do was squirm and twist hoping to relieve the pain.  And that, that got him even harder.

 

Brandon wasn’t in control, Nicky was.  If Nicky took charge that meant Brandon didn’t have to think.  He didn’t want to think.  Brandon wanted to give in, give up, to Nicky.  Let him take responsibility out of Brandon’s hands. 

Nicky straddled his thigh.  His leg pressed hard into Brandon’s crotch.  Brandon writhed beneath him and his prick throbbed.  It felt as if it would split his jeans.  He groaned and humped, trying for more contact.  Nicky thrust against him.  That thick, long, demanding cock trapped in its own denim prison, pressed like iron into Brandon’s hip.  Brandon could feel where it ran along Nicky’s leg.  If he moved right he could feel the head of Nicky’s prick dig into his groin.  Close enough to almost feel it against his own aching dick.

 

Their mouths devoured each other.  Hot, desperate kisses wound between them. Brandon sucked on Nicky’s lip and his tongue and whatever else he could manage.  He broke free of Nicky’s hold and buried his hands in Nicky’s thick hair.  Tangling his grip into that dark mass, Brandon pulled Nicky into another frantic kiss.  Nicky’s hands wandered over his body, up under his shirt, making Brandon shiver wherever their skin met.  He didn’t even have control over his lower body.  Delicious pressure from the tight confines of denim and Nicky’s leg smoked like dry-ice through his veins. 

With a growl, Nicky bit his neck at the collar.  Sucked hard enough that Brandon felt the blood rising to the skin. Insane amounts of friction, need and two months of denial threw Brandon over the edge.  He arched his back and gasped out, “Fuck!” as he blew in his jeans. 

Nicky kept sucking, raising a welt, and thrusting against Brandon.  Somehow, Brandon managed to stay focused enough to wrap his hands over Nicky’s butt and grind back.  Nicky grunted.  He jerked.  Brandon held on tight as Nicky shuddered through his own release.  Then, panting, Nick collapsed onto Brandon.  They lay that way for a while. 

Then it sank into Brandon’s brain that he’d cum in his jeans. 

He snorted at the indignity of loosing it like some horny teenager.  Slowly, Nicky kissed up his neck until he reached Brandon’s ear.  Then he whispered, “You’re at least taking me to homecoming right?”

 

Brandon’s snorts turned into laughter.  “Well, with the hicky you gave me, all the other girls are going to think I’m easy.”

“You are easy.” As he rolled off the bed, Nicky chuckled. “Crap.”  He laughed and cupped the wet spot on his jeans.  “Asshole, take me all the way back to freaking high school.” The smile took any sting out of his words. “I’ll be right back.  Bring you a towel?”

 

Brandon sat up and started to unbutton his soaked jeans.  “Yeah.”  He grunted as Nicky eased out of the door, closing it behind him.

Nicky hit it on the head, flashbacks to high school.  Although he’d never done it with a guy until he’d graduated.  Brandon stood and toed out of his boots.  Well, there was that whole nebulous period when he was a kid and experimenting…but that didn’t really count.  Brandon yanked his t-shirt up to his nose and took a sniff.  It would do to sleep in. Then, as Nicky sidled back into the room, he shoved his jeans and shorts off.  After tossing Brandon a damp towel and closing the door, Nicky shucked his own clothes.  Brandon cleaned himself off as well as he could manage.  Fuck it, he’d do a shower in the morning.  He kicked his dirty clothes into a pile near his bag before retrieving his pajamas from the floor and flopping back onto the bed.  Brandon took a moment to watch Nicky hop into his lounge pants.

 

Feral and sexy, Nicky crawled up next to Brandon. “Now that we’re comfortable.” Nicky stretched along Brandon’s side. “What was that about, ‘I’m a dude?’”

 

They couldn’t stay comfortable too long.  He still had to make up the couch.  Raising his butt off the bed, Brandon yanked up his pajama pants up over his ass and grunted, “Huh?” Brandon rolled over so he could look at Nicky. “What?”  Where had that question come from?

 

“Dian?” Nicky glared and snapped his index finger against Brandon’s temple. “The phone?  You trying to shove it up my nose out on the strip?”

 

Oh that.  Brandon closed his eyes and tried to explain.  “She started going off on me, accusing me bringing my daughter with me while I was hanging out at a girlfriend’s house.  I wanted to make sure she knew that wasn’t what was going on.”

 

“Bitch,” Nicky thumped Brandon’s chest with his hand, “that’s exactly what’s going on.  Except you’re hanging out at your boyfriend’s house.” Brandon felt Nicky shift.  He opened his eyes to find Nicky leaning over and staring at him.  “Which do you think would freak her out more?”

 

“Don’t go there, Nicky.”  Brandon didn’t even want to consider that issue.

 

“Just saying.” Nicky slumped back and Brandon had to adjust his position or be pushed off the bed. “You’re playing that whole I’m straight game.” Now, Nicky’s touch moved along his ribcage and made Brandon twitch. “It’s going to bite you in the ass.  You shouldn’t pretend you’re not having sex with me to keep your ex wife from thinking you’re up here having sex with some woman.  So not right, dude.”

 

“I didn’t think.”  Brandon sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “I just didn’t want Dian to worry.  She’s already like,” Brandon held his fingers up in front of his eyes, measuring off a tiny distance, “this close to losing it anyway.”

 

Nicky wrapped his arm around Brandon’s middle.  With a gentle tug, he coaxed, “Come here.”

 

“Why?” Brandon sighed. “I need to get the couch ready.”

 

Another tug.  “It’s been almost two months.” His hand ran up Brandon’s back. “Just be with me for a while, okay?”

 

A little bit wouldn’t hurt.  They’d already both gotten off, so nothing would get up and running again for a while.  He sank back down on the pillows and smiled at Nicky.  “For a little bit.” 

Written by James Buchanan

Visit The Author's Website