Coming Home: Davis Brothers Ch. 01

He expected little ugly to come running as soon as he walked in. Brandon whistled and he heard the pattering of the little dog's feet. When he saw Brandon, he yipped softly and wagged his tail.

"Hey there, little ugly. I brought you some food. Don't say I never done nothing for ya."

Brandon shook the baggie of kibbles and the little dog yipped and ran out of the room.

"Come back here."

Brandon followed the dog into the living room, who padded down the hallway towards the bedrooms. When the pup got to the master bedroom he stopped and looked back at Brandon and then ran inside.

Brandon followed him down the hall and froze when he stepped into the room. Something was different. The bathroom door was open and the light from the vanity overheads spilled into the bedroom. The little dog was standing in the middle of the room wagging its tail back and forth as if he was pleased with himself. He barked again.

A soft voice called out from the bathroom, "What is it, boy?"

A skinny young man walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. When he saw Brandon, he gasped and covered his chest with an arm, while the other clutched at the towel.

Brandon dropped the dog food and raised his fists as he took a step closer. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?!"

***

The boy's eyes widened and he pressed his back against the wall, scooting into the corner, trying to get away from Brandon. He had never seen a man so large. The guy was a freaking mountain. And he looked beyond pissed. He had had his share of ass-kickings back in school and it was an experience that he wasn't looking to re-live. He was positive that he wasn't going to get out of this in one piece.

Brandon stepped closer and stared down at the delicate little man, shaking in his skin. Brandon knew he was scaring the boy, but he didn't care. "I asked you a question."

"I-I-I... I didn't think anyone was living here; I thought it was abandoned. I'm sorry."

"How long have you been squatting here?"

"Um.... three months or so, I guess?"

Brandon looked the boy up and down. He couldn't be any taller than Benji, and actually looked shorter, which would put him around five-five or five-six maybe? He was a skinny little thing, but looked like he was at least getting enough to eat. He had long, black hair, which was hanging wet, down past his shoulders. His chocolate brown eyes were wide open and frantically searching around the room, probably looking for an escape. Looking closer at his face, Brandon guessed that maybe he was Chinese or something. Yeah, somewhere in Asia, he decided.

The boy clearly wasn't going to hurt Brandon. He was a little weakling, 98 pounds wet. And it's not like he was concealing a weapon under that towel. From the looks of it, he didn't have much of anything under that towel.

Brandon relaxed his stance and took a couple of steps back.

"Is that dog food?" the boy asked, nodding towards the plastic baggie at Brandon's feet.

"Yeah."

He looked down at the baggie and then back up at Brandon. The surprise was written all over his face. "You brought Ricky food?"

At hearing his name, the little ugly dog turned and yipped at his owner and wagged his tail.

Brandon picked up the baggie and held it out. The boy slowly leaned forward, quickly grabbed the bag and pulled back against the wall. He looked down at the garbage bags, then back up at Brandon, not quite meeting his eyes. "Can I get dressed?"

"Yeah."

Brandon stepped back and the kid slid along the wall to the garbage bags.

"Can you turn around please?"

Brandon snorted and turned his back. As if that man had anything of interest.

But then maybe he was just using it as an excuse to get him to look away while he grabbed a knife or a gun or something.

Brandon turned his head to see the boy drop the towel. He bent over into the garbage bag and pulled out a pair of track pants. Brandon subconsciously licked his lips as he stared at the round swell of perfect ass cheeks. Fuck, his ass was smoother and sexier than any girl's he had ever seen. And bent over like that... God damn, the thoughts that ran through Brandon's head.

As the boy stepped into the pants, his head swiveled back and looked Brandon in the eye.

Brandon quickly looked away, uncomfortable about being caught staring. He shifted from foot to foot and reached between his legs. He cupped his crotch and hefted his cock and pressed it down with his thumb, totally shocked to feel that it was on its way to becoming rock hard.

A soft "Okay" from the boy had Brandon jerking his hand away from his crotch.

When Brandon turned around, the boy was dressed in a t-shirt, lounge pants and white socks. He grabbed onto his left elbow with his right hand and rubbed the top of his foot with the toes on his other. He looked scared and vulnerable and Brandon decided to back off just a little bit.

"What's your name, kid?" Brandon asked.

"Lonnie. What's yours?" He tilted his head slightly and pushed his hair behind his ear.

"What are you doing here, Lonnie?" he asked, ignoring Lonnie's question.

"I... I'm just going through a hard time right now. I swear, I didn't know anyone owned this place. I thought the bank took it or something. I wasn't planning on staying permanently, just until I saved enough to get back on my feet."

"And what did you think when the electricity magically came on today?"

"Um... That I was lucky to maybe get a hot shower for once?" He laughed nervously, then apologized. "Sorry..." He brought his hand up to his mouth and began to chew on his thumbnail. He had his head ducked slightly and he looked up at Brandon through the bangs that fell across his brow.

Brandon wasn't laughing. Fuck, the boy was cute. Too bad he wasn't a girl. "You can't stay here. My company's coming in to renovate the house and we're gutting the place on Monday. It's not safe. Come on. Get your shit."

"Oh. Sure. Of course."

Brandon ignored the tears that welled up in Lonnie's eyes as he gathered up his bags. He watched the boy scoop up the blankets from the mattress and dump them into the garbage bag he was holding, along with a flashlight and some other things laying by the makeshift bed. Brandon ignored the voice in his head that was telling him that it was wrong to just throw the poor boy onto the street like yesterday's garbage.

Brandon told himself that this wasn't a boy; he was a man. And that meant that Lonnie was old enough to make his own decisions and live with the consequences. None of that was Brandon's business or his concern. He picked up the baggie of dog food and dropped it into one of the garbage bags and picked it up. After Lonnie threw on a hooded sweatshirt and put on a pair of ratty sneakers, Brandon walked the young man to the back door and gave him the garbage bag.

"Ricky, come on boy," Lonnie called.

Ricky barked and ran out the door after him. Brandon locked the door behind them, following them around the side of the house to the driveway.

He watched Lonnie and Ricky walk ahead of him. The voice in his head started to get louder, calling him an 'uncaring asshole'. He pulled out his smokes and lit one and stood by and watched Lonnie carry his garbage bags down the driveway to the street. Ricky stopped at the end of the driveway and looked at Brandon. He barked and then looked at Lonnie, who was heading down the street towards town. Ricky looked back at Brandon once more, then took off after Lonnie.

By the time Brandon took the last drag of his smoke, Lonnie could no longer be seen. Brandon dropped his cigarette butt, crushed it under his steel-toed boot, got into his truck and pulled out of the driveway and headed for home.

He didn't think about Lonnie or his perfect ass not even once during the drive home. No, he certainly didn't think about Lonnie when he reached between his legs and squeezed the rock hard cock that was threatening to burst through his jeans. And when he got home and jerked off in the shower like he did every night, it sure as hell wasn't going to be Lonnie that he'd be fantasizing about.

***

After thinking about it all day, Brandon was starting to get more and more pissed off. When he found Lonnie squatting at the house last night, he left way too easy. The little shit and his ugly little dog were probably right back there right now. There was no way in hell Brandon was going to stand for that bullshit!

It was well after dark when Brandon pulled into the driveway of the house. He hoped the rumbling diesel engine wasn't too loud. He quietly made his way to the back door and found it to be locked. He noticed the light coming from the bathroom window, which was cracked open.

Brandon shook his head. The little sneak climbed in through the window! Brandon shook his head and his face grew hot as his anger soared. He should have checked the locks on the windows. Hell, he should just call the cops right now and let them deal with it.

He quietly unlocked the back door and crept inside, carefully closing the door behind him. When he got to the bedroom, he froze in his tracks. The master bathroom light was on and the door was closed enough so that the light illuminated the bed with a soft glow. Lonnie was laying on the mattress curled up on his side, asleep. His hands were folded underneath his cheek. His long black hair framed his face. Jesus, he was fucking beautiful.

Ricky was laying at the foot of the bed and he perked his head up when he saw Brandon. His tail started wagging a mile a minute. When he yipped happily, Lonnie's eyes opened.

When Lonnie saw Brandon, he gasped and scrambled back against the wall. "You— I... I'm..."

"I thought I told you to leave," Brandon said. In the back of his mind, he noted that his voice wasn't as forceful as he intended it to be.

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You can't stay here, kid. I told you. We start demo on Monday."

"If you just let me stay until then, I promise I'll find somewhere else by then. I promise. Just give me five days." When Brandon didn't immediately respond, Lonnie took that as a good sign. "Me and Ricky can watch over the place for you, make sure no one breaks in."

Brandon gave him a sarcastic glare. "Yeah. With you and little ugly on the job, I got nothing to worry about."

Lonnie's voice dropped down to a whisper. "Just give me a break. Please."

The pouty look that Lonnie gave him reminded Brandon of Benji. Brandon let out a soft sigh. "All right. Five days."

"Thank you so much," he said with a breath of relief, "um..."

"Brandon."

"Brandon," Lonnie repeated. He brushed his bangs back and gave Brandon a bashful smile.

Ignoring the strange flutter in his chest, Brandon nodded and turned on his heel and quickly left the house.

***

Brandon pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. Closing his eyes, he took a deep and breath let it out. Fuck. He started the truck back up and put it into reverse.

Fuck!

Brandon slammed both of his palms on the steering wheel. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing, or why he even gave a shit. He put the gear back into park and cut the engine. He grabbed the bag of sandwiches and walked around to the back door. He started to knock, but then caught himself. This was his fucking house. Why the hell should he knock?

"Lonnie?" he called out as he shut the door behind him.

"Brandon? Is that you? We're back here," came the reply from a distance.

Brandon walked back to the bedroom. Lonnie was sitting on the mattress in a pair of pajama pants and a ratty old t-shirt. He was using the bathroom light to light up the room. When he saw Brandon walk in, he set down the paperback book he was reading, lifted his head and gave him a shy smile. "Hi."

Brandon suddenly felt like an idiot. What the hell was he doing here? Right. He lifted the bag. "I brought you something to eat."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I didn't know if you had anything..."

"Oh. Yeah. I work at that taco place on the corner, so I get to eat there. One free meal each shift."

He said it with a smile, like it was a good thing. Brandon frowned. Hell, he ate three squares a day and could probably pack in more without trying. Those shitty little tacos were not a meal. No wonder Lonnie was so damned skinny.

Brandon held out the bag and Lonnie got up and took it from him. He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. Brandon paused for a moment, then sat down next to the young man where he indicated. It was awfully close, but Brandon made no effort to move away. He pulled off his ball cap and set it down on the bed next to him, and ran his fingers over his close cropped hair.

Lonnie flashed him a warm smile. Brandon's eyes were immediately drawn to the dimples on each of his cheeks, then back to the brown eyes framed with long, dark lashes. Then he noticed the little brown freckles that ran across the bridge of his cute little nose. Brandon couldn't help but smile back. Looking at Lonnie in the soft light, he suddenly realized how young he was. Brandon was 36 years old and Lonnie couldn't have been more than 25. He wondered how the beautiful boy could have gotten into a situation like this. Wait, he wasn't beautiful. He was a dude. Dudes can't be beautiful. But if they could... Now that Brandon was sitting closer, he noticed that maybe Lonnie wasn't Asian after all. I mean, he didn't even have a funny accent or anything like that.

Lonnie looked up at Brandon and saw the scowl he normally wore had softened into something close to a smile. His green eyes were just amazing, big and bright, staring right into him. Maybe the giant redneck of a man wasn't so scary after all. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he oozed masculinity, and that was very appealing to Lonnie. Lonnie's eyes drifted up and down. Brandon was so big and tall, wide and husky. He had a musky smell masked with a hint of cigarette smoke. He wore a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his forearms were covered in curly hair, the same color as the beard on his face, a deep rich auburn color. His beard was thick and full, but not long. Lonnie's eyes slid down to the hollow of Brandon's neck. Tufts of that same hair spilled over the top of the wifebeater underneath his flannel shirt. Geez, he was hairy. He reminded Lonnie of how he imagined a lumberjack would be like. Lonnie had never been with a bear before. His ex was tall and thin. Lonnie wondered what it would be like to have sex with someone like Brandon. And the way Brandon was looking at him, he might have a good chance of finding out. If they did it, Lonnie would make sure that Brandon knew it was because he wanted to, not because he was letting him stay the week or because he had brought him food. He may be living out on the streets, but he was proud that he hadn't needed to sell his body.

When Lonnie was kicked out of his house, none of his so-called friends even offered so much as a couch. Lonnie didn't have much pride left by that point, but he sure wasn't about to beg for a floor to sleep on. But here was Brandon. A perfect stranger who had every right to kick his ass or call the cops, and here he was, concerned about him, and bringing him food. It felt really nice.

The little man opened the bag and pulled out two foot-long sandwiches.

"They're the same," Brandon said. His voice cracked when he started to speak for some reason. He cleared it a couple of times. "I didn't know what you liked, so you get what I like. There's some cokes and chips, too."

"Thanks," Lonnie whispered. "This is really nice of you. Thank you again."

Brandon ignored the quiver in Lonnie's voice and pretended like he didn't see his eyes suddenly turn glassy. "Yeah."

Ricky came and sat down next to Brandon and looked up at him and licked his chops. "Git!" Brandon said with a wave. "Big daddy doesn't share his food with little uglies."

"Big daddy," Lonnie snickered as Ricky ran off and sat down on the other side of Lonnie.

"It's a... Nevermind." Brandon didn't need to explain the funny nickname that Benji sometimes used with him.

They ate their Italian hoagies in silence for a while, until Brandon couldn't stand it anymore.

"What happened to you?" Brandon suddenly asked.

"You mean why am I living here?" Lonnie asked.

"Yeah. You said you have a job. Why don't you have a place to live?"

"It's a long story... A few months ago, my mom returned home to Japan when her mom got sick. She called my dad and he moved back in because she didn't want me alone. She was always a little over-protective. My parents divorced when I was a teen and he moved out, and I didn't really see him very often after that. Our relationship was always... strained... He's this big, tough Irish guy, you know? And I'm not exactly the best at sports and other 'manly' stuff. I was in drama club and choir. I was a disappointment to him."

Ah, Brandon nodded to himself. That explains his look. He's only half Japanese, half Irish. 'Mom would love that he's part Irish,' Brandon thought to himself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Catching Brandon's look, Lonnie said, "Yeah, I know. You don't know very many Asians named Lonnie O'Reilly, huh?"

"No," Brandon said with a snort of laughter. "How old are you?"

"I'm 26. I know, I know. Too old to be living at home. I had a messy breakup with my ex and I had to move back in with my mom. Then she left the country."

"So why aren't you still living with your dad?"

"When he found my porn, he threw me out. I tried living in my car, but it broke down and got towed. I've been saving for a place of my own. This is just temporary. I'm saving for a security deposit."

Brandon blinked. "Your dad threw you out because you had porn? All guys have porn."

"You know how it is. I guess he was surprised that it was gay porn."

"Gay porn? You're gay?"

Lonnie knitted his brows together and tilted his head at Brandon. "Yeah. Of course I am. Aren't you?"

He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Brandon felt like he was smacked upside his head. Brandon quickly pushed up to his feet. "What the fuck! I ain't gay!"

"Oh," Lonnie said with surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Brandon's fists balled up tight, angry that the boy first of all assumed that he was gay and then was actually surprised to hear that he wasn't. "Why the fuck would you think that? You're lucky I'm a nice guy. Anyone else would kick your ass for saying something like that."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I thought you liked me... that way."

Brandon balked. "Well, I don't!"

"I can see that."

Lonnie eyes drifted down to Brandon's crotch for just a split second before his lip curled in a little smirk.

Brandon almost went ballistic. The little fucker was checking out his meat! What the fuck! Then he realized that his cock was nearly fully hard, creating a large and noticeable bulge in his snug and faded blue jeans pointing towards his hip. He backed up towards the door.

"Listen here, cupcake," Brandon growled. Lonnie's mouth fell open at the insult and he was about to retort, but Brandon interrupted. "I ain't no fuckin' fag." His voice got louder and he grew angrier with each second, spittle flying out of his mouth. "You're all coming on to me... sitting all close... with your..." He motioned his hand over Lonnie's body, "...your tight shirt and... long hair... you look like a fucking girl!" Brandon stepped closer and balled his hands into fists. "I outta beat the shit out of you!"

Lonnie pushed his hair back behind his ear and swallowed nervously. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I said I was sorry," he whispered. The playfulness was gone and he looked genuinely frightened of Brandon as his body started to tremble.

Brandon almost apologized. That he was scaring the little man made him sick to his stomach. He pushed it aside and snapped, "You got four days, then I want you out of here."