Page 36 of Mean Machine

Brooklyn huffed. “You do get to know a man after going twelve rounds against him.”

“Touché.” Nathaniel kissed him on the chest and then slid to the edge of the bed, got up, and walked to the folding doors at the far wall. Brooklyn mostly watched his arse and the long, lean upper body. Nathaniel was built for speed and grace, somewhere between a dancer and a runner.

Brooklyn pulled the thin covers free and slipped underneath, aware that Nathaniel stood near the windows, gazing far beyond.

He grabbed a pillow, turned, and relaxed, allowing himself to slip away. Nathaniel joined him shortly after, one arm over his hip, hand on his belly. It felt so normal it was uncanny. “I thought you’d leave.”

“You think too much, Nathaniel.”

Round 4

“SO, WHAT’Sgoing to happen when we return to London?”

Nathaniel shielded his eyes with a hand against the sinking sun that splashed reddish light across the ocean. “You will beat Odysseus. And you’ll be famous.”

Brooklyn tilted his head and glanced down at Nathaniel, his chest bared, an orange-and-white batik-dyed piece of cloth wound around his hips like an ankle-length skirt. Sarong, Nathaniel had corrected him when he’d called it a skirt. It made Nathaniel oddly graceful, slender—somewhat feminine, even. It suited him shockingly well.

“Are you listening?” Nathaniel turned to face him.

“And then?”

“It’s going to be a good platform to campaign for your retrial. You won’t be just any convict. You’ll be a world champion and among the very top heavyweights in the world. This will make every headline, every news portal, every newspaper and TV too.”

“What about us?” That was the real kicker. So easy to think it could go on like this, with sex in the morning and afternoon, intimacy, banter. Caring. Tenderness. He’d almost forgotten how that felt, and it hurt whenever he became aware of it.

Nathaniel took his hand and entwined their fingers. This reminded Brooklyn of sex, open-mouthed wonder and greed, grinding together, and how Nathaniel gave him everything. Allowed himself to fall, to surrender. He could have anything from this man, and that had a strange effect on him.

He wanted to do the same, but there was always something small and insidious holding him back. Here on the island, with just them, he was usually in control.

“What do you mean? I see no reason why anything should change. I was rather hoping it wouldn’t.” Nathaniel squinted against the light and then frowned at him. “Will it?”

Way to ruin the mood, Brooklyn.

“I don’t want to go back.” Brooklyn expected a “don’t be stupid,” but Nathaniel merely watched him. Brooklyn still struggled to predict what the man would do next. Not that he chastised Brooklyn—ever. Or at least not like that.

“If I were to ask you if you’d like to stay with me, you would say yes?”

Brooklyn’s heart leapt in his chest. He tightened his fingers around Nathaniel’s as if to test the strength and firmness of that grip. “Is that some kind of proposal?”

“Some kind of, yes.” Nathaniel smiled widely.

“I would. I think. It might be weird with another guy. It doesn’t feel weird, though. Not with you, anyway.” Where were all the elegant, shiny words for this situation? Maybe Nathaniel had used them all up and Brooklyn was left scraping the barrel.

“Don’t tell me I remind you of your ex-wife,” Nathaniel teased.

The topic they had never even skirted. But now he didn’t mind talking about her. They’d shared almost everything else. “No, she’s very different. For one, her boobs are bigger.”

Nathaniel laughed. “I’ll need to work on my pecs, then.”

Brooklyn grinned. “It’s just, the things I wanted once. A house, a garden, kids. Coming home after a shift, dinner with the family. That’s because….” He faltered and felt his throat constrict. “That’s what other people had, but I didn’t. That’s not where I come from.”

Home had always been a threatening place, with the big shouting man and his cowering mother. When he remembered that time, the council flat was cavernous, dark, gloomy, and strewn with debris after the man had torn down the TV stand or a shelf in a fit of rage.

He’d driven past there a few times as a copper, and the flats didn’t look so bad from the street. Kids played out front, and while the garden looked untidy and neglected, that wasn’t so different from any kind of rented accommodation. Nobody really cared about a place they’d leave eventually.

“Do you still want children?”

“We tried, but it didn’t happen.”Which is damned lucky. That way my kid won’t grow up without a father. Or whoever she brings in.“Maybe I was wearing too-tight trousers.”

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