Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“ T his is ridiculous,” Malcolm said, storming out of his bedroom and back into the main area of his apartment. “I shouldn’t even be going to this. You definitely don’t need to be wasting your time. I can just meet you back at your place afterward.”
Bull watched him pace back and forth, not interrupting his rant.
He did take a moment to appreciate how hot his boyfriend was though.
Malcolm was wearing tight black dress pants and a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
His normally adorably chaotic hair was parted on the left side, his waves somewhat tamed.
Bull would always prefer him naked and in his bed, but this wasn’t a bad look.
When Malcolm paused to take a breath, hands fisted on his hips, Bull closed the distance between them and grabbed his shoulders.
“Baby boy, it doesn’t matter if you say it a hundred more times—you’re not going without me.
So how about we come up with a signal for when you’re ready to leave instead? ”
Malcolm huffed and looked away, nibbling on his lower lip. “How about when I run out of there screaming, you bring the truck around?”
“Sounds good to me. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re really worried about?”
Dropping his head, Malcolm sighed before looking up at him guiltily. “I didn’t tell my parents I was bringing you. Or, you know, about you in general.”
Bull remembered the conversation from a couple of weeks ago when his moms had dropped by unexpectedly.
Malcolm had said he would be sure to tell his parents about their relationship before they showed up for the engagement party.
The fact he hadn’t didn’t bother Bull that much.
He didn’t really care two shits if these people liked him or not.
What he did care about was why his boy was driving himself crazy worrying about it.
“Okay. Do you think I’m gonna be upset about that?”
Malcolm shook his head, then nodded, then rubbed at his face with both hands.
“I don’t know. You probably should be. I said I would, and then I didn’t.
But it’s not that I’m embarrassed,” Malcolm added quickly, dropping his hands and looking up at Bull earnestly.
“I swear to fucking god, Bull, I am not embarrassed about you or our relationship.”
“I believe you,” Bull said quietly, cupping the side of his face and drawing him closer for a quick kiss.
“It’s just that,” Malcolm said against his lips. “It seemed weird to do over the phone, but I kept putting off driving over to their place, and then I ran out of time.”
“Did you RSVP?” Bull asked, nuzzling against his face.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Did you write down one or two?” He tugged Malcolm’s earlobe into his mouth, grinning around it when his boy sucked in a quick breath.
“T-two. I definitely remember writing two.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” Bull said, taking a half step back and grabbing Malcolm’s hand. “Come here. We have a little bit of time before we need to leave.”
He led Malcolm into his tiny bedroom and grimaced at the full-size bed.
His six-and-a-half-foot frame didn’t really fit on it, but they’d made do a couple of times when he’d been over and wanted to take his boy apart on a flat surface.
They spent ninety-five percent of their time at Bull’s place, and just as soon as he could figure out how he was going to ask Malcolm, he was going to turn that into one hundred percent of the time.
He carefully unbuttoned his own shirt and laid it across the top of the sad-looking dresser with the crooked bottom drawer. Since he was wearing dark-wash blue jeans, he didn’t bother taking them off. Turning to Malcolm, he started working on his clothes.
“I just put these on,” Malcolm said softly, not fighting him at all.
“You did, and I don’t want them to get wrinkled.”
“I don’t think we have time for what you’re thinking about.” Malcolm grinned and pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. He made a contemplative face. “Well, maybe a couple of blowjobs.”
Bull snorted and carefully helped him step out of his dress pants.
He climbed up on the bed and positioned himself across it diagonally so his feet weren’t hanging off. Malcolm snickered at him and then clambered up, straddling his hips and settling himself on both of their favorite spot.
“You forgot to take your pants off and my underwear,” Malcolm teased, walking his fingers up Bull’s belly and then flicking one of his pierced nipples.
Grunting, Bull grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, settling Malcolm over top of him. “I don’t need to take my pants off for this.”
“What exactly are we doing, then? Snuggling?”
Bull guided Malcolm’s head over to one side of his chest, watching to see how his boy would react.
Sucking on Bull’s pec when they had sex was one thing, but how would he handle using it as a coping mechanism for his stress?
Lips brushing against his barbell, Malcolm’s eyes widened a little as his pupils dilated, and he squirmed against Bull.
“We’re going to relax,” Bull said in a low voice, smoothing his other hand down Malcolm’s back and cupping his ass. “Open your mouth, baby boy.”
Malcolm stared at him, but he parted his lips and let Bull pull him onto his nipple.
He latched on without needing to be told, his eyes fluttering shut on a soft moan.
Bull carded his fingers through his hair, messing up all the work his boy had done to make it presentable, but he liked it messy, wild, and imperfect—just like his boy.
Malcolm shifted against him, making himself more comfortable. He made a soft, questioning sound in the back of his throat when he noticed Bull’s dick was half-hard in his jeans, but he just shushed him, feathering his fingers through his soft strands.
“Don’t worry about anything,” Bull said soothingly. “I want you to just focus on this moment. It’s the only thing that matters.”
Humming, Malcolm sucked a little harder, bringing his hand up to run his fingers delicately over Bull’s collarbones.
Slowly, as they lay there for long, peaceful minutes, the rigid tension seeped out of Malcolm’s muscles.
His fingers eventually stilled, his body going completely lax except where he suckled at Bull’s pec.
The whole time, Bull kept holding him, hoping his boy knew he’d do anything for him.
While Malcolm put himself back together in the bathroom, having fussed at Bull for messing up his hair, Bull ran back down to his truck and grabbed the light bulb he’d picked up the other day.
It took a matter of moments for him to change it out for the burnt one at the top of the stairs outside Malcolm’s door.
He scowled down toward the main entrance of the house. His boy was too short to do it without needing a ladder, which he didn’t have. So when Bull had asked about it, he’d admitted he would probably just have to use one of his kitchen chairs.
That wasn’t acceptable, even if they’d been well-made, which they were not. There was no way in hell he was letting his boy climb up on a fucking chair at the top of these death-trap stairs just to change a fucking light bulb.
He was just throwing the old one away when Malcolm stepped out of the bathroom, running a hand down the front of his rebuttoned shirt. He stared at the trash and then at Bull, eyes narrowed a little like he was putting two and two together.
Then he hustled over to his front door and threw it open, craning his head out as he flicked the light switch on. Closing the door once more, he crossed his arms over his chest, a small frown on his lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Bull cupped both sides of his face, kissing him until he felt his mouth relax and then a little bit more, just because. “Yes, I did,” Bull said softly against his lips.
“You take such good care of me,” Malcolm whispered back.
“And I always will.”
Bull meant that with his whole fucking heart.
Malcolm stared up at him, his eyes glassy.
The tension between them grew, and this was it, the moment Bull had been waiting weeks for.
He couldn’t be the first one to say it. He didn’t want Malcolm to feel pressured, like he had to say it back, so he’d waited as patiently as he could for his boy to realize just how perfect they were together.
How their lives were just beginning together.
Malcolm’s lips parted—and someone knocked on the door.
Bull had half a mind to put his foot through it.
Pulling away, Malcolm frowned and muttered, “I don’t know who that could be.”
Moment effectively ruined, Bull took a couple of deep breaths and scrubbed a hand over his short hair, then grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed.
There would be time for them to exchange those three little words.
He knew that. And yet, he couldn’t help but be disappointed.
He stepped over to grab his phone where he’d left it on a small side table in the living room, keeping most of his attention behind him where his boy was opening the door.
“Oh. Hi, Dale,” Malcolm said unenthusiastically. “Did you need something? I was about to head out.”
Bull lifted his lip in a silent snarl. He couldn’t believe the balls on this asshole, showing up five minutes after he changed the light bulb that was Dale’s responsibility.
“This’ll be quick,” the guy said, his voice raspy like he smoked a couple of packs a day. “I just wanted to let you know I have to raise your rent $300 a month.”
Malcolm sucked in a breath, and Bull took a couple of steps toward him. “$300?” Malcolm repeated, astonished. “That’s—you can’t do that.”
“Sure I can,” Dale said without a hint of remorse.
“Well, I don’t know how I’m going to afford it,” Malcolm said absently, glancing over his shoulder at Bull and then looking away quickly, his face turning red.
“Maybe we could work something out.”
There was no fucking way this guy was about to suggest what Bull thought he was, was there? Bull stepped up right behind the door but kept his footsteps light, doing his best not to make a sound. His poor, oblivious, former straight-guy boyfriend just looked confused.
“Okay. Work it out how?”
“That huge guy you’ve brought over here a few times—he your boyfriend?”
“Excuse me?” Malcolm’s spine stiffened, the hand he still had on the edge of the door tightening until his knuckles turned white.
Bull clenched his jaw to hold back the urge to take over the conversation. Had he seriously not seen Bull’s truck outside? Was this asshole loaded or something?
“Well, I was thinking,” Dale said, unconcerned that Malcolm hadn’t actually answered his question.
Bull almost laughed out loud. He would bet good money that what this guy was about to say had come about through the complete absence of thinking .
“Whatever it is you let him do to you that makes you moan like that?—”
Malcolm gasped and stumbled back like he’d been shoved, face draining of color.
“If you’re willing to let me fuck you like that a couple of times a month, I can forget about raising your rent.”
Bull jerked the door the rest of the way open and filled the doorway. “Big mistake, asshole.”
Dale the Landlord was a man of average height with a body that looked like he probably played sports in high school and college, but he was well into his fifties now, with a horrible comb-over, a goatee, yellow teeth, and small, mean eyes.
They sure as shit widened, though, at the sight of Bull.
He scrambled back a step, hands going up instinctively.
Bull had to give him credit—that was a good fucking instinct.
He pulled his arm back and let it fly, punching the guy square on the jaw and knocking him back against the wobbly banister. He was half-disappointed it didn’t give way to let the creep return to ground level the fast way.
“Ow, fuck!” the guy yelled, holding his face. “I swear, I was just kidding!”
“No, you weren’t,” Bull said, stepping out onto the tiny landing and crowding the man back against the loose piece of two-by-four this guy thought was an acceptable railing. “Malcolm’s moving out immediately. Don’t ever try to fucking contact him. Do you understand me?”
Dale nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Or my fist hitting your face will be the least of your fucking worries.”
Face slack with shock, Dale was scrambling down the steps before Bull even finished threatening him. Bull stood there, watching him the whole way until he hopped in his old beater van and sped away.
Rage was still simmering inside him, that one punch barely enough to take the edge off. He shook out his hands and rolled his shoulders a few times before turning and stepping back into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Malcolm’s eyes looked about ready to fall out of his face, and his lips were parted in shock.
“We’ll worry about packing up your stuff later,” Bull said, glancing at his watch.
“We need to get going.” When Malcolm didn’t move or blink, Bull took a step toward him, his anger lessening as worry for his boyfriend took its place.
“Baby, are you okay? Did that piece of shit touch you or something?”
He gently gripped Malcolm’s chin, tipping his face up so he could study him better. His touch seemed to jolt Malcolm out of whatever it was that had him frozen.
He blinked a few times, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
Bull raised his eyebrows. “Punch a guy who asked you to whore yourself out for him? The same guy who couldn’t be fucking bothered to change a light bulb for you? Baby, he’s lucky all I did was punch him.”
Malcolm made a muffled sort of groaning sound, and then he dropped to his knees, fingers attacking Bull’s belt buckle.
“We don’t really have time for this,” Bull said, his dick starting to fill out down his left pant leg.
Malcolm moaned and pressed kisses against the hardening shaft through his jeans as he worked to get his pants and underwear out of the way. Once he had tugged everything down to Bull’s knees, he wasted no time, sucking Bull’s tip straight into his hot mouth.
Bull grabbed the back of his head and groaned. “Fuck it. We can be late.”