The Wrong Type of Forever

Chapter 1.3



When Dorian rolled out of the car, he stretched his sore limbs while looking around at the parking garage. Did Mitchy leave me?

It had been over a year since the last time Mitchell had stuffed him in the trunk. His boo wasn’t happy. But Dorian had the right to stake his claim.

My Mitchy!

But who knew that this time his Mitchy wasn’t brushing it off. He made Dorian sleep on the couch? The couch? He’d never slept on the couch unless he fell asleep watching TV. Mitchell never made him sleep on the couch! The Couch!

“Either sleep on the couch, or I’m going to get me a hotel room,” Mitchell said before closing the bedroom door.

Unable to sleep that night, Dorian had to go to work the next day looking like a zombie. He felt like the undead, too.

As the elevator door opened to the sports agency’s floor of the Walthour building in Pittsburgh, Dorian shrank back against the wall in horror. Dear Lord…save me….

Standing waiting with her hands on her hips and a snarl curling her lips was the beautiful, deadly, and very pregnant, Cody Delarosa.

“Cody, let me explain.” He shivered and screamed internally to any god who was willing to bail his ass out of this new fresh hell. The regular Cody was a saint compared to the evil pregnant Cody.

Without a word, she walked onto the elevator and smacked him on the back of the head before grabbing a hand full of hair and pulling him through the office.

“Ow, ow, owie, ow, ow!” Dorian whimpered and whined knowing all he could do was endure. “You know I can file a complaint to HR!”

“I own the company, asshole. I am HR!”

“I’ll… I’ll call the police for-“

“Try it. They’ll never find your body.” Cody’s words weren’t an empty threat. The person backing her was Gabriel Lloyd Walthour the third. That’s three “I’s”. The man was a gangster of the first degree. The kind that only cocked an eyebrow while eating you for din-din and used your skin to make “leather” furniture. Dorian first believed the gangster only supported her because he supported Bailey. However, that man hoovered far too much around Cody, making Dorian super-duper suspicious about what was going on. Everyone knew Cody and Bailey were dating, yet Dorian didn’t feel their “love” was genuine. But when Cody stood beside Walthour to talk, Dorian could definitely see some heat. Muy caliente!

The whole situation was confusing. And he had a bad feeling his buddy Bailey was getting played. But how do you tattletale on a gangster who could plant you in stank manure like a tulip.

“Cody, let me explain.” Dorian squealed when she forced his butt into a guest chair using the roots of his hair connected to his scalp. Hell, that hurt….

“Shut the fuck up.” She snapped walking around her desk before facing him. Those emerald eyes glared at him with hostility. “Mitchell’s account has been pulled from your care. He’s back in my hands.”

“What!” Dorian jumped up. He was no longer Mitch’s manager? “What!”

“Sit.” She ordered like he was a dog.

And like the poodle he was, he sat. He even raised his paw.

Cody ignored his attempt to lighten the situation and dropped a nice flaming verbal slap to his pretty face. “You’re a selfish motherfucking bastard.”

Dorian’s head sunk into his neck like a turtle, paw still up.

“You only think about yourself. Forget Mitchell’s career. Forget the position you put my company in. Forget the fact that you promised me that you would keep your relationship on the low so that my other clients won’t feel like there is favoritism going on. Forget the motherfucking fact that you didn’t even consider Mitchell’s feelings!” She slammed her hand on the desk. “He might be your lover, but he’s also human. He might not cry, but he could be in pain because of the shit he’s going to have to go through. Did you know…that his father called me this morning? Mr. Pearson said he can’t get in touch with his son. I wonder why your best friend won’t even answer his own father’s call… Oh wait…maybe because Mitchell isn’t sure how to talk to his father, afraid of his reaction. But then again, didn’t you both make a promise to never tell the man after your own father called you both fags?”

Dorian finally felt the sting of what he did. No wonder Mitchell gave him the silent treatment… I’m an asshole.

“Fortunately, your disgusting face wasn’t in the shot.”

Dorian wanted to open his mouth and protest the “disgusting” comment. But the narrow gaze she gave him dared him to open his mouth. So Dorian didn’t dare.

“I’m reshuffling your contracts with the two new agents. Mitchell is mine, indefinitely since you didn’t keep your end of the deal. Don’t whine. Don’t complain. I’m going to have to work harder when his contract’s up to get him a good deal. Hopefully his performance on the field won’t be shaken because of this shit… If they let him on the field.”

Dorian nodded silently realizing how bad his actions had been. “Cody…?”

Cody just lifted her eyebrow at him like how Gabriel Walthour often did…creepy.

“I apologize. And I’ll bust my ass to do better.”

“Ok,” was all she said as she turned her attention to her computer, silently dismissing him.

Dorian wanted to say more…but his doghouse was already on fire. He didn’t want to have to piss on it to put out the flames, so he’d better just quit while he was ahead.

When Dorian moped his way home that night, shoulder’s hunched, he thought about all the phone calls from the reporters the office received that day. He really fucked up.

Dorian hadn’t realized being gay was still a big deal. He saw it on TV, heard it in music, and lived it with Mitchell and his cousin, Jerry. Gay was life! But now he realized that some people in the sports industry saw “being yourself” as a problem. Mitchell could still catch anything thrown to him. He could still run faster than most running backs…and yet his baby was suffering because of his jealousy. 

I suck.

When Dorian got home that evening, he noticed Mitchell wasn’t home yet. He quickly cooked dinner. Dorian was letting the saucy meatballs simmer when Mitchell walked through the door.

Mitchell remained silent, eyes down cast as he put his duffel bag on the floor by the couch. Through the tight t-shirt his man wore, Dorian saw the tightness of Mitchell’s muscles with each step he took toward the kitchen. His baby looked super tired, in the worse way. Dorian felt like shit.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said looking at Mitchell.

The man finally looked up at him.

Dorian placed a toasted bun on Mitchell’s plate. “I was stupid.”

“That’s normal.” Mitchell shrugged.

“But I may have ruined your football career.”

“You care?” Mitchell smirked.

“Of course I do!” Dorian said outraged. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

“But I remember last year, you said something like you wanting to hide me away from everyone’s eyes and keeping me locked away.” Mitchell leaned over the counter and grabbed a chip from Dorian’s plate.

Dorian nodded in agreement and then shook his head. “Ok, I do, but not if it hurts you and makes my man miserable. As selfish and jealous as I am, I still care most about you.”

Mitchell gave him a shy smile. “I know.”

Dorian moved around the island counter separating them to to get closer to his favorite baby’s daddy. “I love you, Mitchy.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad?”

“I’m not mad, Bats. Sad. Irritated. Disappointed. I don’t want the world to care who I love. I just want you to think before you do your crazy.”

“It wouldn’t be crazy if I thought about it… Why aren’t you mad? I single-handedly ruined your career!” He took Mitchell’s shoulders and shook him.

Mitchell laughed lightly pushing Dorian away. “I spoke to coach. He says the owner isn’t happy. So I have to prove myself invaluable in the next few games or my ass is benched. In other words, my career is solid.” Mitchell smirked arrogantly as if he knew he’d surpass all their expectations.

Dorian’s jaw dropped. “Just like that?”

“The owner is old school so he’s going to be a prick. I still have to face the media shit. But Cody told me to let her handle it. They’re less likely to give a pregnant woman a hard time.”

“I feel sorry for anyone who tries.” Dorian shuddered remember how she nearly slaughtered him.

He watched Mitchell take his plate, sauntering toward the couch. Dorian grabbed his own food and followed like a eager puppy, tail wagging and everything. They sat together watching cartoons, avoiding the news, and demolishing meatball subs. During a commercial break, Dorian asked, “Are you really not mad, Mitchy?”

“I kind of prepared myself mentally years ago, when you kept trying to molest me in public during college. Bats, I knew it was bound to happen. So no, not angry. A little irritated with you, maybe disappointed by everyone’s reaction. But not mad.”

“What about daddy Pearson?”

Mitchell grew silent and stared at his plate.

The silence nearly drove Dorian to jump up and scream Daddy Pearson if you hurt My Mitchy and may him cry, I’ll fucking destroy you!

“Mom said she talked to him. He didn’t seem too upset…I’ll call him tomorrow,” he said, balling his fist.

“Do you want me to be here with you when you-“

“No. I should have done it years ago.” Mitchell took a deep breath.

“Then…” Dorian hesitated. “About sleeping on that hateful couch…”

“You’re invited back to the bed. Just be aware, I’m drilling your ass so hard, you won’t be able to move tomorrow. Hope you got plenty of lidocaine cream.” He grinned evilly popping a chip into his mouth.

Dorian swallowed in fear, the hot and horny kind.

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