Brock's Choice, Parts 7 and 8

Part 7



It was 2:00pm on Thursday afternoon, December 31, and it was snowing lightly in downtown Seattle.

Brock Hardt was thinking about Luke Brown while lying in his specially reinforced, extra-wide recliner and watching the snow come down through the windows in the living room of their penthouse condo. He desperately wanted to spend some alone time with his big hunky lover, but unfortunately, Luke had been so busy with out-of-town football games and personal appearances across the country that he had only been able to make quick periodic visits before he had to leave again. And even when he was in Seattle, he spent the bulk of his time at the Seahawks training facility preparing for his next game.

The last time that Luke and Brock had spent more than an hour together was on Christmas morning, when Brock told him his one and only Christmas wish: to kiss his boyfriend at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Luke had originally intended to make that wish come true, but a last minute demand by the NFL had Luke jetting off to New York to be a part of a sports-themed New Year’s special that was going to air live on ESPN.

Brock was disappointed about not getting his kiss, and he was disappointed about Luke missing out on the gourmet dinner he had requested from their personal chef on New Year’s Eve – all of Luke’s favorite foods, cooked to perfection, would be ready on their dining table at 8:00pm that evening. Now, sadly, he would be eating it all by himself.

Brock closed his eyes and began to fantasize about Luke. He daydreamed about getting a rubdown from Luke, using his super strength to massage his flab. He thought about Luke's massive muscles, his charming smile, his hot breath, and his big cock. Brock pictured how sexy Luke would look in his new Speedos on their trip to Hawaii after the football season had ended, when they would finally get that alone time that Brock had so been missing the last few months.

As he gently massaged his belly, Brock drifted off to sleep…

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Brock stirred from his sleep about an hour later. He opened his eyes and realized the building’s intercom was buzzing. It took him about 30 seconds to maneuver his almost 400 pounds out of the chair, but he did manage to get up and get to the intercom before it buzzed a second time.

“Hello,” he said groggily.

“Hi there,” said an unfamiliar voice. “This is John from Metro Landscaping.”

“Come on up,” said Brock as he pushed the entry button. He watched the video screen as the garage door quickly opened and a Metro Landscaping truck pulled inside.

Realizing he was hungry and had about two minutes before the guy arrived, Brock walked to the kitchen and grabbed a cinnamon roll from the pan on the counter. Greedily he stuffed it into his mouth, followed by a second, and then a third, not even caring that he had just ingested almost 2,000 calories in less than 90 seconds.

He had just finished when he heard knocking at the front door and went to let in the landscaper.

Landscaper.

He chuckled at the thought – Brock still wasn’t convinced that he and Luke needed a landscaping company to take care of the dozen or so plants that dotted their luxury condominium, but Luke had insisted their expertise was essential. Jake Phoenix, the owner, usually took care of their account himself, but he and his wife had just left for a cruise in the Caribbean just after Christmas, so he had sent his son, John, in his place.

Brock opened the door to greet Jake’s son, John. He was expecting a thin wiry man like Jake to be on the other side of the threshold, but was instead facing a very different sight.

The first thing Brock noticed was John’s height – at 6’4” most men seemed pretty short to him, but John was at least 6’2” or 6’3”, and topped with a crown of spiky blond hair. His face was young and boyish, with soft blue eyes and a somewhat crooked smile.

But beneath that, he was all man. All muscle man. Thick neck, sturdy shoulders, a truly massive chest, pumped up arms, tight waist, and powerful legs. John was wearing a yellow polo shirt and khaki pants, the standard uniform of Metro Landscaping employees, but Brock was sure that none of the other staffers looked quite so good in their outfits. In fact, John’s clothes were so skin-tight that Brock could make out almost every ripple in his physique. It was almost as if he was getting a visit from Luke, only a younger-looking version.

“Hello, I’m John,” he said, reaching out his meaty paw to Brock.

Brock continued staring for a few seconds before he finally took John’s hand and gave it a shake. “Brock,” he said, all the while staring at John’s beefy chest and pert nipples. “I’m Brock.”

“Pleased to meet you, Brock. I’m sure my father must have mentioned I would be filling in for him.”

Brock finally snapped out of his mini-trance, stepped aside, and motioned for John to enter the apartment. “Yes, he did. Please come on in.”

“Thanks.” John picked up his equipment, which he had set down behind him, and walked through the door. “I’ll be out of your way in no time.”

“No hurry,” Brock replied. And he meant it. He wasn’t in any hurry for this hunk – an almost identical clone of Luke – to leave the apartment. “So your Jake’s son, huh?”

“Yep. Not much resemblance, I know. Dad’s pretty small with darker coloring, but I take after my mom’s side of the family. Her brothers are all big and blond.”

I’ve got to get invited to one of their family reunions…

John came to the first plant in the living room, a tall bamboo tree, and began checking its leaves carefully. “But I assure you, even though we may not look alike, Dad taught me everything there is to know about landscaping. I started visiting sites with him when I was only 10, became officially employed at 14, and worked for the company until I was 19. I promise you that your plants are in good hands.”

“So you don’t work for him anymore?”

John shook his head as he began to water the bamboo. “No, I moved to Los Angeles last year. I just came back to see my family for the holidays and to take care of Dad’s clients while he is on vacation.”

“What do you do for a living?” asked Brock.

“I’m a fitness model, but I’m trying to become a pro bodybuilder,” replied John, not looking up from the bamboo.

“Pro bodybuilding, huh? That sounds like it takes a lot of dedication.”

“It’s not easy, that’s for sure. I tend to be a bit of a junk food junkie, so I have to fight those urges all the time.”

John finished with the bamboo and turned back toward his host. Brock peered downward to focus in on John’s mid-section, where he could clearly see the outline of his ripped abdominals through his shirt. “I have a hard time believing that someone with your physique has ever considered eating a Twinkie.”

John walked up close to Brock. “Well, I didn’t always look like this – sure, I lifted weights all though high school to grow these muscles,” he said, flexing his biceps and stretching his shirt sleeves until they almost tore open. “But I was also played offensive line on the football team, and coach always wanted me bigger, bigger, bigger. So I ate and ate and ate, eventually topping out around 320 pounds.”

“Wow – you weighed 320 pounds?” asked Brock incredulously.

“I did indeed – I had myself a big front porch, just like you, that would greet every burger, pizza, candy bar, and donut that came for a visit.” John reached down a patted Brock’s belly, which quivered at his touch. “My waist size peaked at 50 inches, and I have to tell you, it was awesome!”

Big Brock could feel Little Brock springing to life, and he was glad his own giant ‘front porch’ was covering his erection. “You liked having a gut?”

“Of course!” replied John. “I thought it made me feel really grown up and manly. People would always stare at it - like it commanded attention, you know? The guys on the football team used to rub it for good luck before the games.”

"No embarrassment at all, huh?"

"Not a bit - I loved being Jumbo John, as all my buddies called me. I always won every eating competition and strength competition, but I did lose most of the footraces I was in. Jogging was a little tough on the ol' jelly belly," he said with a smile.

Little Brock was now standing at full attention. “So what happened – I mean, why did you lose the weight?”

“Well, as much as I loved eating and growing, it wasn’t going to turn into a career for me. A friend of my father’s was a modeling agent, and he thought I had the right look to get some gigs as a fitness model if I dropped a few pounds. So after graduating high school, I went on a strict diet, lost the flab, and began really hitting the weights extra hard. Within about six months I was able to get some catalog shoots modeling Big and Tall clothes, and then I moved to LA to try and get into the muscle mags. Haven’t had much luck yet, but I think it’ll get easier once I participate in a few bodybuilding shows.”

“Do you miss eating whatever you want?”

“Oh, of course.” He reached out and shook Brock’s belly again, this time playfully kneading the flab with his fingertips. “Someday, I hope to get back to being as big as you. But for now,” he added as he lifted up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his sculpted abs, “these little guys are helping me to earn my keep. And speaking of which, I should stop boring you with my story and get back to the plants.”

Brock wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh, OK,” he muttered. Little Brock was rock hard by this point and he didn’t want to ejaculate in front of John. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

John smiled and headed for hallway toward the bedrooms, while Brock dashed into the bathroom. He grabbed some Kleenex from the dispenser on the counter and reached under his big ball belly to unzip his pants. Little Brock popped out immediately and with just the slightest touch from Big Brock, cum began to spew out. Waves of pleasure rocked him, so Brock eased himself down onto the toilet for support. After coming back to reality and regaining his composure, Brock cleaned himself up and returned to the living room, just as John was returning from other side of the apartment.

“Well, Brock, I’m just about finished here.”

“Thank you for coming by, especially on New Year’s Eve. I’m sure you must have big plans to get to.”

“No, not really. I have a photo shoot back in LA on January 2 for swimwear, so the abs have to be nice and taut. No excess eating or drinking for me tonight. I may go visit a friend or two, but nothing too exciting.”

“Well, if you’re looking for something to do, please feel free to come back here. I was supposed to have a friend come by at 8:00 for a catered meal, but he cancelled this morning, so it’ll just be me. And trust me – my friend is as health-conscious as you are, so all of his food was going to be very healthy and very lean. There’s also the pool out on the terrace, which is nice and heated, if you’d like to swim a little to get in some exercise.”

“That’s very generous of you. Brock. It sounds like fun.”

“OK, just come by about 8:00 if you can. I’ll be here.” Brock walked to the front door and opened it wide for John.

“Thanks,” replied John. He picked up his equipment from the foyer, took several paces forward, and then it down again next to Brock. He then reached out his right hand, which Brock shook goodbye.

As they shook hands, John glanced downward at Brock’s belly. “Oops,” he said. “Looks like one of your shirt buttons has come undone.”

Brock looked down at the expanse of deep maroon fabric that covered his torso, but all of the buttons he saw were still clasped. He let go of John’s hand, pulled up on his belly a little bit, and replied, “I don’t see it.”

“Here, I’ll get it for you.” John reached down toward the underside of Brock’s gut and refastened the button. He had to push on the flab a little to bring the sides of the shirt together, but eventually he got it. “There we go – but it looks like this shirt’s getting a little snug for you, big guy. If you eat too much at dinner tonight, you might just bust right out of it.”

John winked and smiled at Brock. Then he picked up his equipment and headed out the door.




Part 8



Brock was just wrapping up his phone conversation with his boyfriend, Luke, when he heard the intercom buzzer.

“Luke, good luck on your show tonight. I hope it goes really well.”

“Thanks, Brock. I’m sorry that I can’t be there for our midnight kiss, but I will make it up to you on Saturday. I promise.”

“I know you will. Good night!”

“Bye, Brock. I love you.”

“I love you, Luke.”

As soon as he hung up, Brock raced to the intercom to let John into the garage. A few minutes later, he excitedly opened the condo door to let in his dinner guest.

“Hello, Brock – thanks again for inviting me over. I really do appreciate it,” said the muscleman as he stepped into the doorway.

“You are most welcome, John. Here, let me take your coat.”

John unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, once again revealing his hyper-muscular physique. He had changed out of his landscaping uniform and was wearing an incredibly tight yellow t-shirt and blue cotton sweats.

Good Lord, that shirt is so tight...

“I hope you don’t mind me dressing so casually tonight,” said John. “I haven’t had a chance to do any laundry since taking over my dad’s clients, so I had to raid my brother’s closet.”

Damn, he looks a lot like Luke in those clothes…and his muscles may even be bigger than Luke’s…just remember, Brocky, look but do not touch…

“You look just fine, John. But I’m guessing by the tightness of your clothes that he is your little brother?”

John could tell that Brock was giving his body the once-over, so he instinctively flexed his pecs a little to make them jump. “Yeah, he’s only 18 but getting bigger every time I see him – boy that kid can pack on muscle fast. He’s not my size yet, but he’s pretty jacked for a high school kid.”

“Does he play offensive line on his football team like you did?” asked Brock as he hung the coat up on the nearby rack.

Luke’s the one who left me on New Year’s Eve, so why shouldn’t I get to spend some time ogling a hot guy…there's nothing wrong with just looking...

“No, he’s the varsity quarterback – fancies himself to be the next Luke Brown. He wants to play in the NFL and have the big house, fancy cars, and the hot girls, just like Luke. In fact, he's juggling two girlfriends right now, and neither one knows about the other. Can you believe it - what a stud!”

Brock smiled and decided not to reply.

Luke doesn’t get as many hot girls as you might think…

“So is dinner about ready?” asked John. “I’m famished.”

“It sure is – follow me!”

Brock guided John to the dining room where Jean-Claude, the chef, had just finished putting out the food. The men sat down in chairs next to one another and began to dig in – John carefully cutting his food, chewing it properly, and savoring every morsel, while Brock shoveling it in as though it might be the last scrap he had for a week.

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An hour later, Brock was seeing a few stars after ingesting plateful after plateful of food and glass after glass of wine.

“That was a really wonderful dinner, Brock. You were right – the salmon was perfect, the broccoli was perfect, the rice was perfect. Heck, even the water tasted really good!” said John, as he leaned back in his chair after eating the last bite on his plate.

Brock looked over at his guest and smiled at his enthusiasm. “Thanks, but I cannot take any credit for the cooking. Or the water. It was all Jean-Claude.”

“Well, my hat’s off to Jean-Claude then – I just wish he were still here so I could tell him in person,” said John as he stretched his arms up behind his head, emphasizing his large pumped-up biceps.

Brock thought about how nice it would be to be massaging Luke's biceps as he watched John flex, but then quickly put the thought out of his mind. “Are you sure you don’t want any of this apple pie, John?” He plunged his fork deep into his slice, speared a large hunk, and shoved it into his mouth.

“It does look good, but I'll pass.”

“It’s really amazing – the more I eat, the better it gets! Or maybe it’s just all the wine I’ve dren binking…or been drinking.”

“Really? What makes it so good?” asked John, as he brought down his arms and leaned a little closer to his dining partner.

“I don’t know what Jean-Claude puts in it, but it's really rich and smooth. Seriously, just take a little bite.”

“OK, if you insist,” replied John. He reached toward the warming pan and snagged section of pie that had fallen off when Brock took his piece. He placed it in his mouth, swallowed, and smiled. “Wow, that is good pie! You weren’t kidding!”

“I told you. I just wish you could help me finish it – it’s so good, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

John smiled and reached over to pat Brock’s gut. “Oh, come on, big guy. I bet there’s a little more room in that belly of yours. You have got at least 50 pounds on me when I was at my peak weight, and I know a little pie like that would have posed no problem for me.”

“Normally, I’m not one who needs a doggie bag,” Brock giggled. “But I have to admit that I polished off a couple trays of cinnamon rolls before you got here. I had an early lunch and was starving by 6:00.”

“Well, since we’re sharing secrets, I can tell you something I used to do during my fatty days when I wanted to find a little bit more room in my tummy.”

“Really? What?”

John scooted his chair a little closer to Brock. “Well, you just let me know if I’m being too forward, OK?”

“Will do,” replied Brock as he made an OK sign with his fingertips.

John reached down under Brock’s belly and pulled out the loose end of his belt. He then slowly pushed it out of the buckle, released the peg from its hole, and let go of the ends.

Big Brock peered over his gut in an attempt to watch John’s hands as he continued, but he couldn't see what was happening. Little Brock, however, began to grow quickly with all the nearby attention.

John then reached for the button on Brock’s pants and was about to unfasten it when it abruptly snapped off and hit his palm. Brock’s stomach surged forward without the restraint and collided with John’s hand.

“Looks like that poor button couldn’t take anymore, Brock.”

“Sorry about that.”

John rubbed Brock’s stomach, up and down and up and down, before pulling back his hand. “Don’t be sorry about having a healthy appetite and wanting to enjoy the finer things in life. Your clothes were restricting the amount of free space in your stomach. You just had to set it free so you could put the last few slices of that pie in it.”

Brock belched, drank some more wine, and answered his guest. “I think I will finish the pie.”

John smiled and agreed. “You go right ahead, big guy.”

Brock pulled the warming pan closer to his plate and reached in with his fork. Since John wouldn’t be having any more, he decided to eat the rest of it right from the pan. As he stuffed his face faster and faster, Little Brock became more and more engorged.

“Speaking of tight clothes, do you mind if I take off this shirt, Brock? It’s tighter than I had expected, and it’s sort of becoming uncomfortable.”

Brock stopped chewing for a moment to answer. “No sweat, John. Make yourself at home.” As he said “home,” he flipped his hand into the air and gestured toward the ceiling. He then drank the rest of his wine and refilled his glass.

“Thanks.” John pulled up the bottom sides of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head – Brock could see that it was a pretty snug fit by the way John struggled to get it off. But once he did, Brock stopped chewing again to take in the sight of his remarkably muscular arms and smooth torso – one that was even more toned than Luke's and even better than his body in its prime. Every muscle seemed to be evenly tanned and carved to perfection, and with a little bit longer hair on his head, one might have mistaken John for the cartoon character, He-Man.

“That’s some hot body you’ve got there, John."

Wait...did I just call him hot? No, I said his body was hot...

“Yeah, I'm still trying to even things up,” he said while looking down and cupping his chest muscles in his big hands. “Sometimes I think my pecs are just too big.”

“They do look pretty beefy. And sexy," offered Brock, still ogling John's body and licking the pie off of his lips.

“They just plumped up so much when I got fat in high school, and even though I lost weight everywhere else, they stayed really, really big.” John started bouncing them one at a time, and then looked up at Brock and smiled. "Sometimes people just can't help but want to touch them."

Brock returned the smile, and then returned to his pie. And his wine.

John continued to flex various body parts, but sat in silence as his new friend continued to eat. Within a few minutes Brock had downed two more slices, but his bites were much slower toward the end of the second piece.

“You getting full again, Brock?”

“Yeah, I think I’m at my limit,” he replied. “It’s too bad, because this pie is so great and I really want to finish the last four slices.”

“Well, then, it’s time for secret #2,” said John. “Pick up the pie and come with me.”

Brock downed the rest of his glass of wine, stood up from the table while holding his pants in his left hand, and picked up the warming pan in his right hand. John beckoned for him to follow, and both men adjourned to the living room.

“I think you just need a bit more room to stretch out, Brock, and I bet your appetite will come back. Your dining room chairs keep you a little too upright and it constricts your stomach. Here, sit down on the coach.”

Brock did as he was told, as John arranged some pillows off to the side. “Now lean back on these pillows. How does that feel?”

“Ooof, feels good, John,” replied Brock, as he sat the pie pan down on top of his gut.

“Good boy. Now see if you can’t finish it off.”

“Whatever you say, John.” Brock picked up a whole piece of pie and stuffed it in his mouth. The flavor was intoxicating, and he just wanted more and more and more.

“While you’re eating, let me work on making you a little more comfortable. OK?”

His mouth full of food and his mind struggling to form words, Brock just nodded his response vigorously.

John smiled at his host and then knelt down on the floor. He untied and removed Brock’s shoes, and then took off his socks. Next, John wriggled Brock’s pants down past his thighs, his calves, and then his ankles, revealing a pair of skin-tight white boxer-briefs and a raging erection.

“Oh my, Brock, looks like every part of you is excited about the pie,” remarked John.

“Um, sorry.”

John winked at him. “Don’t be sorry. It’s what I was saving my appetite for.”

Brock was confused by the comment at first, but he quickly understood as John pulled down his underwear, Little Brock sprouted up, and John’s mouth quickly closed around it. Big Brock’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment as he became delirious with bliss, but he still managed to pick up another slice of pie and push it into his mouth.

“Mmm, so yummy,” moaned Big Brock.

John stopped sucking on Little Brock for a few seconds to respond. “My words exactly.”

Big Brock smiled but continued to chew his slice of pie. John went back to giving Little Brock all the attention he had been missing the past few months, and the bobbing motion of his head caused Brock's belly and tits to bob up and down as well.

Oh my God, does that feel good...

Big Brock took another slice of pie and stuffed in into his mouth – each time he did so his gratification increased. He wanted to shovel it in faster and faster so he wouldn’t lose the feeling of pleasure…

John’s head was bobbing up and down faster now, and Little Brock was aflame with a deep tingling sensation….

Big Brock reached for the last piece of pie and opened his mouth as wide as it would go…

John scraped his teeth gently across Little Brock as he pulled upward, and then opened his mouth as wide as it would go…

Big Brock stuck out his tongue and put the last piece of pie on it, then shoved it into his mouth…

John pushed his head forward, gliding his tongue along Little Brock as he went down…

Simultaneously, Big Brock felt an explosion of flavor in his mouth and an explosion of cum from Little Brock. His entire body shuddered as he was overcome with excitement, as if an atomic pleasure bomb had gone off in his taste buds and his groin.

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Brock opened his eyes, not sure if he had been asleep for a minute or an hour. He glanced over to see that John had joined him on the couch and was giving him with a funny grin.

“Are you full now, big man?”

Brock laughed. “I feel full and I feel drained. But I really, really liked it! The pie. And the head.”

“I enjoyed it as well.”

“Where did you learn to give such a great blow job?”

“Purely by accident. I had a ‘friend with benefits’ back in school who gave great head. One night when he was going at me, I started downing Twinkies at the same time, and boom! It was incredible, and from that moment on, I always pigged out during our sessions. It’s one of the main reasons I got up to 320 pounds.”

“Well, bravo, Johnny!”

John smiled, and then reached his hand underneath Brock’s shirt to rub his belly. “You just let me know when you are ready to go again.”

“Well, I might need some time to recharge. You want to go for a swim first?”

“Sure, but I wasn’t able to find any trunks. My brother’s were just too small. Is it OK if we just…”

Now it was Brock’s turn to grin. “Go skinny dipping? Sure thing!”

John jumped up from the couch, pulled Brock to his feet, and helped him off with his shirt to reveal the former jock’s fleshy physique. His torso was big and bloated all over, and other than his better-than-average posture, there wasn’t anything resembling the well-muscled athlete he had been before the summer. He was now a fat, fat man, which pleased John very much.

After getting Brock’s underwear off, John shed his shoes, socks, and sweats, and both of the naked men headed for the heated pool on the terrace.

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John swam in the pool for almost an hour while Brock floated in the shallow end, and then they retreated to the hot tub where Brock resumed his wine drinking. After a few more shots of liquid courage, he and John began a steamy make-out session, with plenty of time spent massaging and caressing each other's physiques and giving hand jobs to Little Brock and Little John.

After a brief interlude to watch the fireworks explode over the Space Needle at midnight, the men got out of the hot tub and dried off on the terrace. Brock grabbed a few snacks from the pantry and led John into the bedroom, where they continued their carnal exploration of each other into the wee hours.

At 11:00am the next morning, Brock awoke with a slight hangover, but his biggest concern was that he was incredibly hungry. He got up out of bed, making sure not to wake John from his slumber, and put in his oversized robe. He crept out of the bedroom and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Brock’s first stop was the cookie jar, from which he extracted six large peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies for his first meal of the day. He ate them two at a time, finishing off the half dozen in under three minutes, and then washing them down with a large glass of whole milk.

He was about to look for another snack and some aspirin when the phone rang. He picked the handset up off the base and answered it quickly. “Hello.”

“Hey, lover,” said the voice on the other end.

“Hey, Luke, how was your night? Did the TV show go well?”

“It went great! Didn’t you watch?”

Brock shook the fog from his head and tried to come up with a reasonable lie. “Um, well, I wanted to watch it with you, Luke. I thought I would save it until you got home tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, fire up the DVR, Brock, because I was able to come home a day early!”

Brock heard the front door open and Luke walk into the apartment. He thought he was going to puke at first, but he recovered by the time his muscular boyfriend charged into the kitchen.

“Oh, Brock, I missed you so much. I hated that I couldn’t give you a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve,” said Luke as his mouth plowed into Brock’s mouth with a deeply passionate kiss.

Brock kissed Luke back and tried to remain calm.

Shit! Shit! Now what do I do…

Luke pulled back and smiled at his boyfriend. “Feels like I’m having to lean in a little more to kiss you these days. Did somebody get a little fatter this last week?” He reached down and jiggled Brock’s belly.

“Maybe – I’ve missed you so much, Lukey, and I guess I turned to food for comfort.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Brock, but you’re going to miss me a lot less from now on. But I’m still going to make you eat!”

“What do you mean, Luke?”

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past week – sitting in my hotel room alone sucked! I hated it, because I missed you sooooo much!” He jiggled Brock’s belly again for emphasis.

Brock furrowed his brow as he wasn’t sure where Luke was going with the conversation.

“So I’ve decided three things. First, I’m buying us a private jet. It’ll be a lot easier for you to travel with me on our own plane than to squeeze you into a seat on a commercial airliner. And if I do have to travel without you for some reason, a private jet will allow me to get back to you a whole lot faster.”

“Really? You want me to come to the games with you?”

“Yes, I do. And second, after this season is over, I want to go public with our relationship. I totally understand if you want to keep it under wraps, but I assure you that I am willing to tell the whole world how much I love you. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Brock’s eyes grew wide. “But what about your career – don’t you think it will be awfully difficult to…”

Luke put his fingers over Brock’s lips. “It couldn’t possibly be more difficult than not getting to be with the man I love. The money, the possessions, the fame – it’s not worth it if I have to spend time away from you.”

Brock looked downward. “Luke, I had no idea…”

Before he could continue, Luke interrupted. “And Brock, here’s the third thing. I came back earlier because there is something I have to ask you. Something important, and I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Brock looked back up into his lover’s eyes. “What?”

Luke knelt down on one knee and pulled a small black velvet box out of the pocket of his slacks. He held it in his left hand and put his right hand on top of it. “Brock, will you…”

But before he could continue, it was Luke’s turn to be interrupted. Not by Brock, but by a naked, muscular, blond man with a hard-on who had wandered into the kitchen from the dining room entrance.

“Good morning," said John.