~BHM, Romance, ~~WG - A chance encounter leads to romance.
[Author's Note: Just a warning - this is a slower moving story, there will be more weight gain in the next two chapters.]
Chapter 1
Brian tossed back his vodka shot, moodily contemplating the latest turn of events. A young man sat next to him, but a bleary glare straightened the other man up before his ass had even touched the seat and took him a few stools away. The other man studiously avoided making eye contact with the burly man obviously looking for a good fight.
Staring deep into the drink – well, as deep as one can, considering it is only an inch thick – he rested his muscular forearms on either side of the glass. Seeing the barman sidle away he realized a black scowl had sent the man packing. Smoothing his features he sighed, refilled the shot and tossed it back. Standing carefully, he motioned the bartender over.
“Put these in the jar.” He slid the keys across the counter carefully. He had to be careful in everything. At 6’6 and 220 lbs of muscle he learned early on in life that even casual gestures could seriously injure someone. The two beers and half of bottle of Smirnoff he had pounded back tonight certainly wouldn’t help.
“Sure thing.” The young man scarcely looked old enough to be drinking the stuff, let alone serving it, but he quickly tied it off and handed him the matching band to identify it.
“Thank you for not drinking and driving!” he said, smiling.
Grunting in acknowledgment he walked out, hands deep in his pockets. No one drank at O’Malley’s and drove. You either came with a DD, or you left your keys. Unlike most bars they enforced the DD as well – any DD caught drinking was booted out and a round went to the house on his tab. The second time got two rounds on the house – and anyone too drunk got a rain check. Didn’t sound like much of a punishment until you considered that a single round could cost a man a quarter of a grand when the bar was full.
The two bouncers grinned and waved.
“Checked your keys in?” Charlie asked, shaking his friend’s hand.
“Of course. I’d hardly institute a rule I wouldn’t keep myself,” Brian groused.
“He’s clear,” a bass tone rumbled through the walkie talkie.
Turning, Brian sketched a ironic bow to Joe, who waved at him and radioed “Hey, at least you know I’m doing my job, boss!’
Smiling tightly, Brian waved and strolled out. Once outside he rolled his shoulders, trying to let the tension drain. He should have known it would go down like this, he realized dimly. His stride, already ground eating, lengthened and quickened.
He could still hear her scornful laughter as she sat up, letting the sheet fall to expose her breasts. “You didn’t really think it would last, did you sweety?”
Layla had laughed again, while the man beside her tried to dress, scurry away and stare at his feet all at the same time. Not that the man was feeling particularly guilty, but he would have to have been blind deaf and dumb to miss the rage boiling out of his silent form.
Cold autumn air seared his lungs as he ran down the walk beside the piers. It was always him that got screwed around on. It wasn’t fair! A brute, she had called him. A possessive, threatening brute. It had probably been the only thing that stayed his hand from laying waste to the other man’s face as well as hers. He couldn’t bring himself to give her the satisfaction. So maybe he wasn’t the most romantic guy in the world, and his temper did run a bit high, but he was as patient and gentle as the next guy!
“Bitch,” he snarled, thundering down the path. It was ironic that earlier that day he had been contemplating buying that gold digger a ring. She had told him straight out as she calmly dressed that it had been her purpose all along and once she realized what a selfish bastard he was she decided to give him this ‘present’ in parting.
“I can’t believe I was so dumb!” he groaned, letting himself fall back into a walk. If he had been the type of man to cry he would have, but that emotion was completely foreign to him, as was the release it brought. Instead he balled his huge fists in his pockets and strode on, trying to work out the tension.
Stopping beside a huge oak he rested his head on the cool bark, closing the bright grey eyes against the building pressure inside him. Rearing back with a howl he slammed his fist into the tree. Immediately he felt guilty – it wasn’t as it the tree had done anything to him. Perversely, it made him feel as if Layla was right in calling him a brute, even though he had never raised fist or voice to her.
He paused in the act of straightening, hearing a noise and letting his bruised and scraped hand fall to his side. There it was again. Turning his head quickly to follow the noise he winced. Any buzz that he had achieved was being counteracted by adrenaline, and he was starting to get the beginning of what he knew would be a pounding hangover. Rubbing at his eyes he crept up to the bushes, peering through the foliage carefully.
Parting the leaves he was confronted with a pale face, eyes closed as if in repose. A huge gash marred her upturned left cheek, slowly leaking blood. Her brown hair was tangled. From the poor light offered by the street lamp he could see her hands were bound and a thick red abraded line stood out starkly against her pale throat.
Brian glanced around for anyone close by, his own worries forgotten. Looking back he saw her pulse fluttering in her throat. Coming round the bush cautiously he paused several feet away.
“Miss? Miss? Are you ok?” Stepping closer he squatted on his heels. “Miss? Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Kneeling, he reached for her hands. Cool and unresisting they seemed incredibly small and delicate in his huge paws. Overall she was a very delicate thing, he realized. Fine boned too. His inspection arrested at the sight of her skirt. Pulled up past her waist, her underwear were gone. It was painfully obvious what had happened.
Throat tightening in pain he chaffed her wrists lightly after undoing her bonds. “Miss, you have to wake up,” he said, trying to make his voice gentle. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned but she didn’t wake up. Glancing into her purse revealed that she had no cash or credit cards but her ID remained.
“Emily,” he murmured, glancing at her. It suited. “Emily, I am going to take you to the hospital, ok?” Of course she didn’t respond, but it made him feel better to ask.
Scooping her up he turned to walk back to his car – and cursed. He didn’t have it and he wasn’t in any shape to drive it anyway. Twitching his lips thoughtfully he considered his options anew. Taking her to the hospital might be a very, very bad idea. He could just picture the looks he would get. His bruised and bleeding hand, her cheek cut. Him drunk and dangerous, her underwear missing and probably raped.
Growling in frustration he glanced down at her. Her head lolled slightly to lay against his large chest, her dark fan of lashes staining the pale of her face. Her eyes were large, he could tell, even with them closed. Her brows were high and arched, the same shade as her lashes. He could always take her home. That wouldn’t look suspicious at all! Glancing around again he shifted from foot to foot, undecided.
Fortunately the decision was taken from him when a small hand caressed his cheek. Startled, he nearly dropped her.
“Thank you so much, you saved me,” she rasped, eyes full of tears. “I was fighting so hard but he was so strong –” her voice broke and she sniffed, smiling. “I heard you come running and yelling and he ran, I was just so dizzy, I was so tired…”
Closing her eyes she rested her cheek against his chest again.
“Emily – ”
“How do you know my name?” Her body had gone rigid, and her dazed gaze was suspicious.
At least she hadn’t lost her wits or memory. It wasn’t a good time to rectify her version of events either, so he left it. Rearranging her into one arm he hefted her purse with the other, laying it in her lap.
“Looked in your purse, sorry,” he rumbled, flushing faintly.
Her eyes had grown wide with her movement but now they softened, and she offered a sweet smile. “And what is my knight in shining armor’s name?”
Snorting he began to let her legs fall so she could stand on her own.
“Brian,” he said, then had to scoop her back up as he legs faltered beneath her, her face turning grey.
“Oopsie daisy,” he exclaimed. “I think I should be taking you to the hospital, missy.”
“No, please,” she begged. “Anywhere but there, I can’t, I can’t,” she whispered, nearly hyperventilating.
“Whoa now, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Relax. Where do you want to go?”
Shaking slightly she closed her eyes, silent tears coursing down her face. “I don’t care, but not there. I’m sorry, it’s just –”
She swallowed, opened her eyes and continued, eyes averted. “My mother had cancer. I have so many bad memories of the hospital, I can’t even go into one now.”
Her voice was so faint he had to lean down to hear it.
“Do you want me to call a taxi? Where do you live?” His only answer was a mumble and when he lifted her a little higher her head lolled. Sighing he started walking to his apartment. It was only a few blocks away. When she began to shiver he paused and carefully removed his jacket, trying not to joggle her, cocooning her in it. It literally encompassed her like a blanket, and she sighed slightly, relaxing again.
Luckily his apartment complex was not busy and he managed to make it to his suite without encountering any nosy neighbors. Closing the door, he kicked off his shoes and took her to his bedroom. Better he sleep in the main room in case this was an act and she was out to steal his stuff. It took him aback when he tried to lower her gently and the small arms tightened with a sleepy protest. It roused an inexplicable tender urge to cuddle with her. She looked incredibly sweet, cocooned in his thick comforter.
Padding to the living room he peeled off his socks and chucked his shirt onto the chair. Easing himself onto the couch he paused. Levering himself back up he poured himself a glass of water and downed two aspirin to head off the hangover. Snagging the blanket off the back of the couch he settled down, knees hanging off the arm. Throwing an arm over his eyes he gave himself up to the fitful sleep he knew would eventually come.
(Continued in post 5 of this thread)
[Author's Note: Just a warning - this is a slower moving story, there will be more weight gain in the next two chapters.]
O'Malley's Bar
by Ichida
by Ichida
Chapter 1
Brian tossed back his vodka shot, moodily contemplating the latest turn of events. A young man sat next to him, but a bleary glare straightened the other man up before his ass had even touched the seat and took him a few stools away. The other man studiously avoided making eye contact with the burly man obviously looking for a good fight.
Staring deep into the drink – well, as deep as one can, considering it is only an inch thick – he rested his muscular forearms on either side of the glass. Seeing the barman sidle away he realized a black scowl had sent the man packing. Smoothing his features he sighed, refilled the shot and tossed it back. Standing carefully, he motioned the bartender over.
“Put these in the jar.” He slid the keys across the counter carefully. He had to be careful in everything. At 6’6 and 220 lbs of muscle he learned early on in life that even casual gestures could seriously injure someone. The two beers and half of bottle of Smirnoff he had pounded back tonight certainly wouldn’t help.
“Sure thing.” The young man scarcely looked old enough to be drinking the stuff, let alone serving it, but he quickly tied it off and handed him the matching band to identify it.
“Thank you for not drinking and driving!” he said, smiling.
Grunting in acknowledgment he walked out, hands deep in his pockets. No one drank at O’Malley’s and drove. You either came with a DD, or you left your keys. Unlike most bars they enforced the DD as well – any DD caught drinking was booted out and a round went to the house on his tab. The second time got two rounds on the house – and anyone too drunk got a rain check. Didn’t sound like much of a punishment until you considered that a single round could cost a man a quarter of a grand when the bar was full.
The two bouncers grinned and waved.
“Checked your keys in?” Charlie asked, shaking his friend’s hand.
“Of course. I’d hardly institute a rule I wouldn’t keep myself,” Brian groused.
“He’s clear,” a bass tone rumbled through the walkie talkie.
Turning, Brian sketched a ironic bow to Joe, who waved at him and radioed “Hey, at least you know I’m doing my job, boss!’
Smiling tightly, Brian waved and strolled out. Once outside he rolled his shoulders, trying to let the tension drain. He should have known it would go down like this, he realized dimly. His stride, already ground eating, lengthened and quickened.
He could still hear her scornful laughter as she sat up, letting the sheet fall to expose her breasts. “You didn’t really think it would last, did you sweety?”
Layla had laughed again, while the man beside her tried to dress, scurry away and stare at his feet all at the same time. Not that the man was feeling particularly guilty, but he would have to have been blind deaf and dumb to miss the rage boiling out of his silent form.
Cold autumn air seared his lungs as he ran down the walk beside the piers. It was always him that got screwed around on. It wasn’t fair! A brute, she had called him. A possessive, threatening brute. It had probably been the only thing that stayed his hand from laying waste to the other man’s face as well as hers. He couldn’t bring himself to give her the satisfaction. So maybe he wasn’t the most romantic guy in the world, and his temper did run a bit high, but he was as patient and gentle as the next guy!
“Bitch,” he snarled, thundering down the path. It was ironic that earlier that day he had been contemplating buying that gold digger a ring. She had told him straight out as she calmly dressed that it had been her purpose all along and once she realized what a selfish bastard he was she decided to give him this ‘present’ in parting.
“I can’t believe I was so dumb!” he groaned, letting himself fall back into a walk. If he had been the type of man to cry he would have, but that emotion was completely foreign to him, as was the release it brought. Instead he balled his huge fists in his pockets and strode on, trying to work out the tension.
Stopping beside a huge oak he rested his head on the cool bark, closing the bright grey eyes against the building pressure inside him. Rearing back with a howl he slammed his fist into the tree. Immediately he felt guilty – it wasn’t as it the tree had done anything to him. Perversely, it made him feel as if Layla was right in calling him a brute, even though he had never raised fist or voice to her.
He paused in the act of straightening, hearing a noise and letting his bruised and scraped hand fall to his side. There it was again. Turning his head quickly to follow the noise he winced. Any buzz that he had achieved was being counteracted by adrenaline, and he was starting to get the beginning of what he knew would be a pounding hangover. Rubbing at his eyes he crept up to the bushes, peering through the foliage carefully.
Parting the leaves he was confronted with a pale face, eyes closed as if in repose. A huge gash marred her upturned left cheek, slowly leaking blood. Her brown hair was tangled. From the poor light offered by the street lamp he could see her hands were bound and a thick red abraded line stood out starkly against her pale throat.
Brian glanced around for anyone close by, his own worries forgotten. Looking back he saw her pulse fluttering in her throat. Coming round the bush cautiously he paused several feet away.
“Miss? Miss? Are you ok?” Stepping closer he squatted on his heels. “Miss? Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Kneeling, he reached for her hands. Cool and unresisting they seemed incredibly small and delicate in his huge paws. Overall she was a very delicate thing, he realized. Fine boned too. His inspection arrested at the sight of her skirt. Pulled up past her waist, her underwear were gone. It was painfully obvious what had happened.
Throat tightening in pain he chaffed her wrists lightly after undoing her bonds. “Miss, you have to wake up,” he said, trying to make his voice gentle. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned but she didn’t wake up. Glancing into her purse revealed that she had no cash or credit cards but her ID remained.
“Emily,” he murmured, glancing at her. It suited. “Emily, I am going to take you to the hospital, ok?” Of course she didn’t respond, but it made him feel better to ask.
Scooping her up he turned to walk back to his car – and cursed. He didn’t have it and he wasn’t in any shape to drive it anyway. Twitching his lips thoughtfully he considered his options anew. Taking her to the hospital might be a very, very bad idea. He could just picture the looks he would get. His bruised and bleeding hand, her cheek cut. Him drunk and dangerous, her underwear missing and probably raped.
Growling in frustration he glanced down at her. Her head lolled slightly to lay against his large chest, her dark fan of lashes staining the pale of her face. Her eyes were large, he could tell, even with them closed. Her brows were high and arched, the same shade as her lashes. He could always take her home. That wouldn’t look suspicious at all! Glancing around again he shifted from foot to foot, undecided.
Fortunately the decision was taken from him when a small hand caressed his cheek. Startled, he nearly dropped her.
“Thank you so much, you saved me,” she rasped, eyes full of tears. “I was fighting so hard but he was so strong –” her voice broke and she sniffed, smiling. “I heard you come running and yelling and he ran, I was just so dizzy, I was so tired…”
Closing her eyes she rested her cheek against his chest again.
“Emily – ”
“How do you know my name?” Her body had gone rigid, and her dazed gaze was suspicious.
At least she hadn’t lost her wits or memory. It wasn’t a good time to rectify her version of events either, so he left it. Rearranging her into one arm he hefted her purse with the other, laying it in her lap.
“Looked in your purse, sorry,” he rumbled, flushing faintly.
Her eyes had grown wide with her movement but now they softened, and she offered a sweet smile. “And what is my knight in shining armor’s name?”
Snorting he began to let her legs fall so she could stand on her own.
“Brian,” he said, then had to scoop her back up as he legs faltered beneath her, her face turning grey.
“Oopsie daisy,” he exclaimed. “I think I should be taking you to the hospital, missy.”
“No, please,” she begged. “Anywhere but there, I can’t, I can’t,” she whispered, nearly hyperventilating.
“Whoa now, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Relax. Where do you want to go?”
Shaking slightly she closed her eyes, silent tears coursing down her face. “I don’t care, but not there. I’m sorry, it’s just –”
She swallowed, opened her eyes and continued, eyes averted. “My mother had cancer. I have so many bad memories of the hospital, I can’t even go into one now.”
Her voice was so faint he had to lean down to hear it.
“Do you want me to call a taxi? Where do you live?” His only answer was a mumble and when he lifted her a little higher her head lolled. Sighing he started walking to his apartment. It was only a few blocks away. When she began to shiver he paused and carefully removed his jacket, trying not to joggle her, cocooning her in it. It literally encompassed her like a blanket, and she sighed slightly, relaxing again.
Luckily his apartment complex was not busy and he managed to make it to his suite without encountering any nosy neighbors. Closing the door, he kicked off his shoes and took her to his bedroom. Better he sleep in the main room in case this was an act and she was out to steal his stuff. It took him aback when he tried to lower her gently and the small arms tightened with a sleepy protest. It roused an inexplicable tender urge to cuddle with her. She looked incredibly sweet, cocooned in his thick comforter.
Padding to the living room he peeled off his socks and chucked his shirt onto the chair. Easing himself onto the couch he paused. Levering himself back up he poured himself a glass of water and downed two aspirin to head off the hangover. Snagging the blanket off the back of the couch he settled down, knees hanging off the arm. Throwing an arm over his eyes he gave himself up to the fitful sleep he knew would eventually come.
(Continued in post 5 of this thread)
