A Subtle Breeze by Bailey Bradford (best books to read in life .txt) 📗

that unexplainable nudge had him reaching for the doorknob and twisting it without hesitation. Fuck respecting privacy, he was not going to stand naked out in the hallway a second longer.

Brendon jerked the door open and froze mid-step, his heart breaking at the sight before him. Zeke sat on the floor, back against the bed, arms wrapped around his bent knees. Short, jerky pants were spasming from his lungs. Brendon could see the fear in his eyes, see the struggle Zeke was in the midst of while trying to fight back the panic attack. His lips were tinted a faint blue as his body tried to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

Anger surged through Brendon. He knew without a doubt Zeke had been suffering panic attacks alone, keeping them a secret from everyone. No more, he thought. Ezekiel was not dealing with this alone any more. Brendon rushed over, nearly sliding on his knees as he dropped down on the floor. Zeke didn’t seem to see or hear him—he was lost in his own private hell.

Gently, Brendon touched the man’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Zeke, just concentrate on breathing. Deep breaths in”—Brendon inhaled in example—“slow breaths out.” He exhaled and repeated the directions, over and over, trying to reach Ezekiel.

More of his heart shattered as tears ran down Zeke’s cheeks. Jesus, what could he do to help? He didn’t know, but Brendon would be damned if he’d be in such a position of helplessness again. As soon as possible, he would begin researching panic attacks and learn as much as he could. When Zeke’s breathing grew even shakier, Brendon wiped at his own tears angrily, struggling for control. Finally, in desperation, he wrapped the man in his arms and started rocking him, uttering whatever soothing nonsense he could manage.

It seemed an eternity before Zeke’s breathing started to even out. The gasping noises as air-starved lungs pumped frantically finally became quieter, steadier breaths. Zeke’s muscles gradually loosened, unclenching from the rigid state they had been in. Brendon stroked Zeke’s back, his arms, chest—anywhere Brendon could reach to try to work the remaining tension from his body. When Zeke seemed to be breathing normally with only an occasional shudder, Brendon could not hold back. He gently cupped Zeke’s chin and forced his head up from where he was trying to bury it against his knees in embarrassment.

“No,” Brendon murmured, taking Zeke’s mouth in a tender kiss, a gentle sweep of tongue. “No hiding from me, Zeke. I haven’t seen anything I hadn’t already figured out.”

Zeke tried to pull away but with his body worn from its experience, he couldn’t break free. His throat worked twice in an attempt to speak, and Brendon figured he would just cut him off. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t like what Zeke was trying to get out. Standing, he gingerly pulled the shaking man to his feet, keeping a hand around Zeke’s waist to steady him.

“Not a word, Zeke. Not a one, not right now. You’re trembling and probably exhausted after what you just went through. Let’s get you stripped and in bed.” Brendon sat him down and unbuttoned his jeans. “All right, on your back, buddy.” He was fixing to give Zeke a little push when the man suddenly capitulated and flopped back on the bed, raising his hips up so Brendon could pull off the jeans. Brendon was more than a little surprised to find him semi-erect after the panic attack. Maybe it was a side effect, he didn’t know, but he would as soon as he could get his hands on his laptop.

Zeke’s voice, rough and barely audible, startled him out of his musings. “Why didn’t you leave?”

Brendon glanced at him and figured what the hell. He worked part of the covers over Zeke as he spoke.

“Honestly? Because I know there can be something between us, something more than fucking. And I know you know it, too. Yes, you do,” he repeated when Zeke shook his head weakly. “I believe you’re an honest man, so I have to wonder why you aren’t being honest now.” Brendon pretended to muse it over as weary green eyes watched him. He grinned at Zeke.

“Got it! You are afraid—for me, for you, probably for everyone.” Brendon lay down on the bed beside Zeke, who watched him warily. “This, however”—he reached down and stroked Zeke’s rapidly growing shaft—“this tells me that you do want me. You can shake your head, grumble and deny all you want, but your body tells me the truth.” Brendon jerked the blanket off Zeke, exposing the full erection making a lie of the feeble denials.

“This is the truth, babe,” Brendon whispered as he slid down the mattress until his lips brushed against the mushroomed head. Smiling up at Zeke, Brendon ran his tongue over the top of the glistening cock, then down to the sensitive underside of the head. Zeke gasped and jerked his hips, seeking more.

“I know what happened to you.” Brendon licked a thick vein that had caught his attention. “I know how you were jumped, how your knee got fucked up.” He laved his way across Zeke’s balls, suckling one of the orbs as his hand trailed over the wiry hair nestled around the base of the bobbing cock. Zeke moaned, loud and long as Brendon made his way back up to the tip of his lover’s dick. He paused, mouth against the rigid length, staring Zeke in the eyes.

“I know what you’ve been through, and I’m not scared, Zeke. I’m not walking away, and neither are you.” Brendon sucked Zeke’s cock down until the head bumped his throat, the action pushing aside any response Zeke might have wanted to make. He couldn’t speak since he was too busy groaning and thrusting his dick into Brendon’s mouth, and somewhere in the back of Brendon’s mind, he decided this was a pretty damn good way to shut the man up.

Zeke fisted the sheets, unable to do more than hold on and