Tempest

TEMPEST

A Medium and an Extra Large

Shannon West and Selena Cooper

TEMPEST

Copyright © 2014

Smashwords Edition

Published by Dark Hollows Press

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Tempest

Copyright © 2014 Shannon West, Selena Cooper

ISBN 10: 1942176163

ISBN 13: 978-1-942176-16-9

Original Publication Date: October 2014

All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Dark Hollows Press

Cover Design by 3 Rusted Spoons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Chapter One

"Though his ship cannot be lost,

Yet it shall be tempest-tossed"

--Shakespeare

J.T. Whitlock gripped the cell phone in his hand so hard he thought there was a good chance it might explode from the pressure. "What? What did you say?"

On the other end of the line, Nate Brickman, the man he was crazy about, the insatiable lover who had been fucking him at least four times a week for the past three months, and the detective who was so far in the closet he couldn’t see daylight sighed heavily and said it again. I…uh…really think we should take a little break, Jules. Just to step back and see where we are, you know? Things are just getting too intense—too complicated, and I need some time to process all of it. Can you understand, baby? Can you just give me a little time? There was a long pause as J.T. tried to find some breath to answer him. Jules?

Jules or Julian were the names Brick had called J.T. by since the first time they’d met. At first, J.T., who had always gone by his initials since he was old enough to choose, thought Brick did it just to irritate him, thinking the English professor was a little stuffy and pretentious. Later it became his private name for J.T. and a mark of their intimacy.

You left my house an hour ago, J.T. said, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly. "And you’re calling me on the phone now to break up with me?"

Not break up—I never said break up, did I? Just a little break…

Mark Twain once said that "under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer," and J.T. finding himself in complete agreement, fell back on that sage advice now. He let loose with a string of cuss words that he hoped would blister Brick’s ear and make him fall down stone cold dead to the floor. He jammed his finger against the end button on the phone, wishing for a moment that he was on a phone like the one he had in his office, where he could slam down the receiver—so much more satisfying. He wondered if there was an app for that.

Damn him! They may have only been together for three months, but the L word had definitely been used between them—okay, so it was mostly used by J.T. Admittedly, he called out the word in the heat of the moment and the throes of passion, but Brick had been right there with him, throes and all. Brick hadn’t said he loved J.T. yet, but J.T. was trying to be patient and understanding, trying to give him time to come to terms with his first real relationship with a man.

Earlier in the evening, they’d made love for over an hour and at one point, Brick had held J.T.’s face between his hands tenderly and gazed down into his eyes. J.T. had been sure he was building up the nerve to make a declaration.

Well, apparently, he’d been building up his nerve, all right, but not for the kind of declaration J.T. had anticipated. Brick had tried to reassure him over and over during that last ghastly phone call that he didn’t mean they were breaking up, or ending the relationship, but J.T. wasn’t buying it. It wasn’t his first time at the rodeo and he’d ridden this bull before.

J.T. Whitlock and Detective Nathan Brickman, Brick for short, though there was nothing short about him, had met while Brick was investigating the murder of one of J.T.’s students at Georgia State University. Actually, Brick had arrested J.T. for the murder because J.T. had a little too much information about the crime, even though he’d been trying to explain to the detective that the victim’s spirit had come to him for help.

That went over about as well as could be expected, hence the arrest and subsequent grilling by police. J.T. had been eventually cleared and the real murderer confessed, but the incident had brought J.T. together with Brick, even though the detective was still deeply in the closet and now likely to remain that way. Even his partner didn’t know.

Living in the deep south and being a police officer were not exactly conducive to being out and proud, and J.T. had been as understanding about that as he could, trying to give Brick time to come to terms with it all, even though he hated sneaking around and being anyone’s dirty little secret. Still, as Brick had pointed out to him, being out as an English Literature professor at a liberal metropolitan college and being out in a field notorious for its macho image and rampant homophobia were two entirely different things.

J.T. was a medium, able to both see and talk to spirit persons, and though communication with the dead was at times clear for J.T., it could also often be misinterpreted or misunderstood. As a matter of fact, J.T. hadn’t been visited by any spirits since that last incident, and he didn’t mind keeping it that way. It had never been anything he’d wanted, and as a kid the spirits had scared him half to death until he finally figured out that most of them weren’t there to hurt him.

Some of them wanted to talk, to seek his help, or to pass on messages to loved ones. Some of them wanted to scare him, but once he told those spirits firmly to leave him alone, they eventually did. There were the uncommon spirits who were full of rage and powerful enough to cause harm to him, but these were exceedingly rare. The spirit persons told him he shone in the darkness, and it was this light apparently deep inside him that brought them to him. Still, it was a burden and a responsibility he’d never sought out.

That last evening—just before everything went to hell—J.T. and Brick had been out at a new restaurant that J.T. had practically had to drag Brick to after reassuring him over and over that the odds were highly against anyone he knew seeing them there together. So who did they see twenty seconds after walking in the door? Brick’s partner, Detective Bill King and his wife.

J.T. saw the couple recognize Brick, who immediately flushed and looked embarrassed. J.T. tried to make himself invisible, but having left his super power cape at home, it didn’t work, and he settled for taking a step backward.

King knew J.T., of course, from the events just a few weeks prior when J.T. had been under arrest for a crime he hadn’t committed. The last time he’d seen King, as a matter of fact, was when Brick and King had walked into the real murderer’s office just in time to keep him from beating J.T. to death.

J.T. saw King register who he was and then glance quickly at Brick. He smiled and introduced J.T. to his wife. Marilyn, this is J.T. Whitlock. He’s a professor of…literature, isn’t it? At Georgia State.

So nice to meet you, professor. I have a nephew who graduated from Georgia State. Rodney Ellis. Do you know him?

No ma’am, I don’t believe so. It’s a pretty big school.

She nodded and an awkward little silence fell over the group. Thank God the hostess called King’s name just then, and they smiled, waved politely and followed her to their table.

Brick turned immediately to J.T. and pulled on his arm. Let’s get out of here.

Yeah, because that won’t look suspicious.

I don’t care. Let’s just go. Please.

His face hot with anger and shame, like he was doing anything wrong, J.T. had followed Brick from the restaurant. They drove directly back to J.T.’s apartment, Brick white knuckling the steering wheel all the way, neither of them talking much. When they got back inside, Brick stopped J.T. just inside the door and pulled him into his arms.

I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me? I couldn’t stay there with King watching our every move.

J.T. pushed at his chest a little. What does it matter if we have dinner together? Why would you think he’d automatically believe we had something going on?

Because that’s how King thinks. I know him—besides, I haven’t mentioned a thing to him about seeing you again since the trial, and he’d start wondering why. Now I have to make up some excuse.

Or you could just tell him the truth, J.T. said quietly.

Brick shook his head. I can’t do that. He-he wouldn’t understand.

Well, fuck him, then. Who cares what he thinks? We’re not doing anything wrong by going out to dinner together.

I care what he thinks. He’s my partner. Brick insinuated a big thigh between J.T.’s legs and pressed it against J.T.’s groin. Besides, I wanted to get you back home again anyway. I missed you this week, sweetheart.

Yeah, right.

No, don’t pull away. You know you want some of this, he said, pulling J.T.’s hand against the bulge in his pants.

J.T. laughed a little. You’re so damn cheesy.

He pulled J.T. right up to him, his cock hard and ready. He ground it against him and flicked his tongue gently at his ear. Damn, you feel good. I need to get down to business.

J.T. laughed again, rolling his eyes and pretended to pull away, but Brick maneuvered him over to the sofa and slid down on top of him, his weight holding him down.

Brick had once told J.T. that he almost resented him at times for making him desire him so much. Sometimes J.T. felt the same way. Brick was larger than life in so many ways, and in a short time, he’d intruded on every aspect of J.T.’s life. Most nights Brick slept naked in J.T.’s bed on his stomach, the sheet slung low over his tempting, tight, round ass. He sat across from J.T. on the living room floor as they ate pizza or some concoction he’d cooked up, eating the food with such delicacy for a big man and occasionally licking his fingers with his long, hot tongue. He even came by J.T.’s classroom sometimes during the day without warning, slipping into a back row and making J.T. tongue-tied and nervous. The big, intrusive Viking of a man had rampaged into J.T.’s neat little life and had completely thrown everything into disarray.

J.T. had been shocked by the intensity of his feelings for Brick from the first time he’d laid eyes on him, and he still couldn’t believe he’d fallen for the detective so hard, so fast. From the beginning, their relationship had been stormy and tempest-tossed. J.T. had hoped that, in the words of one of his favorite poets, George Herbert, storms make oaks take deeper roots.

Brick was busy getting J.T. naked as the thoughts tumbled through J.T.’s head. Brick fumbled in the table beside the sofa for condoms and lube, and when he was finally ready, he leaned over to brush his lips against J.T.’s. You’re so beautiful, baby. I have to be inside you. Brick’s hands slid down into J.T.’s most private parts, and J.T. lifted his hips and thrust them toward him, putting his hands on Brick’s shoulders. Brick pushed back J.T.’s legs to dribble lube on his ass and stretched him carefully by easing in a big finger covered in lube. He teased him with it until J.T. thought he’d go out of his mind, and he begged Brick for more.

He nudged J.T.’s hole then with the big, wet tip of his cock, and J.T. cried out and wrapped his legs around Brick’s waist and dug his fingernails into his back, urging him home. When Brick finally pushed himself all the way in, not stopping until his balls brushed J.T.’s ass, J.T. clutched Brick tightly against himself and bit the side of his