Page 12 of Branson's Promise

He took my hand in a firm shake. “Noel Bennett, Branson’s -,” he paused and looked at the other man.

“Noel is a friend from London.” I wondered if Branson sat on all his friends’ laps, I doubted it. What they were doing looked far from friendly.

Branson turned to Noel then, a sheepish grin on his face. “I hope you don’t mind. I invited Milo to join us, he wasn’t doing anything tonight and I thought you two would get on well.”

Noel stepped in closer, pulling Branson flush against him before bending down slightly and placing a kiss to his neck. “I don’t mind at all, kitten. The more, the merrier, right?” Noel looked at me over Branson’s shoulder, a crooked grin replacing his words. His eyes sparkled in the dim lighting.

Kitten.Just friends? Sure.

After the slightly awkward introductions, the three of us sat on the sofa, Branson between us, and shared a few bottles of wine. Branson did most of the talking, joking and sharing stories of his childhood and years in London and imparting on us his knowledge of fictional vampires. I was already well aware of myroomie’s love of the fanged beasts, given his weekly binge ofThe Vampire Diariesand pile of what he called his “vampire porn” on one of our kitchen chairs.

Noel ate up every word, never turning away or interrupting. He reminded me of a puppy, looking adoringly at its owner. For all his size, hard lines and steely gazes, the guy was mush around Branson. To be fair though, I probably wasn’t much better.

Was he aware of the effect he had on us?

We ordered a few snacks, and more wine and Noel insisted on paying for all of it, telling the waiter to put it on his tab. I didn’t know what his deal was, but I presumed he had money. No scratch that. I knew he had money, he reeked of it. From his designer clothes to the pretentious watch he wore, to the way he took to ordering bottles of wine not even on the menu. It all shouted wealth. And it got my back up immediately. I knew men like him. Like my father. And I hated them.

My dislike for him was further impacted by the way he watched me, his face set in a smirk and with an intensity that crawled over my skin. Like he was assessing me, for what reason I wasn’t sure. It also didn't go unnoticed the way he kept one hand on Branson the whole time. Like he was sayingmineand needed everyone, me included, to know.

All in all, I think Branson was wrong when he said we would get on well.

Later in the night, the music turned up and the lights dimmed further. WhenDJ Got Us Fallin’ in Loveby USHER and Pitbull came on, Branson jumped up from the sofa, grabbed our hands and pulled us in the direction of the dance floor. “I love this song!” he yelled over the beat, pulling us until we were in the middle of the crowd.

Branson dancing was sexy as sin. Sensual and rhythmic with his hips moving in slow circles and his hands either above his head or running down over his body. I, on the other hand,probably looked like a fish flopping around out of water. Noel had a presence that was hard to escape. His movements were effortless, and he fit perfectly against Branson. The two of them were beautiful together and I once again found myself staring, heat travelling up my spine and through my limbs, pooling low in my groin. I was so unbelievably aroused by the picture of my roommate and his supposed friend in front of me. I took a deep breath, willing my dick to calm the fuck down.

From time to time, Noel’s eyes would find mine and though I’d always prided myself on being able to read people, I had no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t seem angry that I was there, and occasionally, I’d catch him watching me, a pensive look on his face, like he was mulling something over. I presumed he was accepting my presence as a means to please Branson. From the little time I had spent with the two of them, it was clear that Noel’s goal was to please him in any way he could.

At some point, after a few songs and more drinks, Branson pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my neck and whisper-yelling into my ear. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t like you sitting home all alone.” Branson’s words were slurred, which tracked given the number of bottles we had consumed, but still, they wrapped around me, warm and so welcome. I had very few people in my life and the fact that this incredible man wanted me around filled me with a sprinkling of joy that I had long since become a stranger to.

“I’m glad too.”

“I really like you, Milo. Like, really like you. You're sweet and very handsome.” I smiled as he traced a finger over my dimple, causing my breath to catch. Holding Branson in my arms, for a split second I was overcome with the desire to kiss him. I wondered if he would let me. Wondered if he could prove all those labels that had been beaten into me - worthless, unwanted, unlovable - wrong. Fuck, how badly I wanted that.

But I thought better of it, not knowing what the real deal was between him and Noel and also knowing he'd had a fair bit to drink.

Resting my hands on his hips, I pulled him a little closer. “Big same.” We stayed like that for a song or two, Branson swaying with me despite the music being upbeat. The feel of him rubbing against me was making my body sing with pleasure. I felt my cock chub up and moved to adjust my hips to keep it hidden, but my attempts were futile. I let out a low growl when the little minx turned around and pressed his firm ass right against it then carried on dancing as if he wasn't setting me on fire.

Noel stayed close by, watching the two of us. His eyes were dark and no less severe than they had been earlier. He didn’t step in to pull Branson away from me which, I found odd given the possessiveness he’d shown towards the guy all night.

It wasn’t until I stepped backwards, in desperate need of some space before I ended up embarrassing myself, causing Branson to stumble into a stranger, that Noel reacted as I had expected him to.

The stranger, a good looking guy in his mid-thirties, caught Branson around his waist and steadied him but didn’t let go. “Easy there, beautiful.” His voice was loud enough to be heard over the music. The stranger gripped Bran harder when he tried to pull back, letting his hand drift down lower from the small of Branson’s back. On instinct, I stepped closer to him at the same time Noel did. Only, where I reached for Branson with the intention of dragging him away, Noel pushed the guy roughly away.

“Do not touch him,” he barked, and the guy, either fuelled by alcohol or stupidity, stepped right into Noel’s face. Noel towered over him, so the sight was a bit comical. Like a chihuahua taking on a rottweiler.

“What are you going to do about it?” The guy spat in Noel's face.

I held onto Branson and watched as a chilling grin took over Noel’s features, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, before he turned without answering the guy and walked away. With Branson pressed closely to me, we pushed through the crowd and returned to our seat behind the VIP rope.

Once Branson was sitting down, a glass of water in hand, I walked over to Noel, who was now speaking to the bouncer and watched as he handed a few hundred dollar bills to the man. The bouncer spoke to someone in his mic and then nodded at Noel. The tension in his shoulders visibly eased as he thanked the bouncer and turned back, coming to stand next to me.

“What were you doing?”

“Taking out the trash. He shouldn’t have put his hands on him.” Noel’s gaze was trained on Branson, who was now sprawled across the sofa with his head thrown back and his arm covering his eyes. I took in the way the older man’s features softened at the sight. “He certainly won’t be getting back into this bar again.”

His words were sure and confident, his voice darkly possessive. A danger in it, that I never would have associated with this preppy blonde. He was more like my father and his pompous friends than I first thought.

“Just piss on him like a dog, next time, why don’t you? Mark your territory.” I wasn’t the jealous type and while the guy had no right to touch Branson the way he did, I wasn’t out for blood the way Noel seemed to be.

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