Hunger Unleashed

Chapter 89: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Lovers tiff!

***

“Fuck this,” Jean muttered as he got out of bed. “Stubborn fool.”

He’d been in bed for three hours, hoping that Bradley would come to bed. But the soldier had remained on deck, thinking about god knew what. From his suite, Jean could see all the decks and had therefore been watching Bradley since he’d abruptly left the deck to end their argument. He’d watched as Bradley paced the deck whilst taking swings from the champagne bottle. When the bubbly got finished, he’d leaned against the railing and looked out at sea for almost an hour, clearly lost in thought. At a point, he’d sat on the lounge and buried his face in his palms and rocked his body back and forth as if he was trying to calm himself down. He would pace for long moments and then go back to staring at nothing.

Jean had gotten a camera installed in his suite just to be able to keep an eye on his guests during parties. The camera enabled him to watch the deck even if he was entertaining in his suite. People did outrageous things when they were drunk so he wanted to at least keep watch. He had, therefore, kept an eye on Bradley the entire time because he wanted to know if he was in trouble. He wanted to know, for instance, if Bradley got hit with a panic attack. That hadn’t happened and Jean was thankful for that. What had gotten him out of bed was Bradley’s current position. He’d curled up like a fetus on the lounge, almost as if he was shielding himself from the world. And that sight killed Jean. He grabbed a blanket and headed out.

Jean wouldn’t be honest if he didn’t admit that he was both hurt and angry at Bradley. He was, however, more hurt than angry. Jean understood that Bradley was bound to have issues where the memory of Wendell was concerned. He would be the first to agree that Bradley needed therapy to help him heal. And he planned on convincing his man to do exactly that. But that didn’t lessen the pain in his heart due to what had happened. Bradley’s reaction in his apartment and his subsequent explanation had been enough to make him know that Bradley held whatever he had with Wendell dear and cared more about keeping it intact than allowing him to intrude. He was obviously not that important to Bradley and that hurt like a bitch. Bradley had said he was in love with him.

Well, he didn’t believe him because if he was in love with him as much as he claimed, he wouldn’t have put his feelings for someone else above his, no matter what. Jean Broody had never been made to feel so insignificant and inferior as Bradley’s behaviour had made him feel. And knowing that Bradley had no control over how he felt didn’t make it any easier to accept. What had triggered his anger was Bradley’s raised voice. He’d always hated it when people raised their voices at him. And that was why he’d left the deck. He wanted to give Bradley…and himself some time out to calm themselves down. The last thing he wanted was for the crew to hear them arguing. That would have been bad.

As Jean headed back to the deck, he wished with all his heart that he hadn’t followed Bradley into his bedroom the day before. All that was happening would have been avoided if he hadn’t. On the deck, Jean got behind Bradley on the lounger and covered their bodies with the blanket. Then he wrapped an arm around Bradley in a comfortable spooning position. He could tell that Bradley was not asleep but neither of them said anything. After a moment, Bradley interlaced his fingers through Jean’s and gave a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said softly.

Jean’s arms tightened around Bradley. “I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t give up on me. I don’t know what I’ll do if you do.”

“Turn around,” Jean said and waited until Bradley turned and got comfortable in his arms. “I’m no angel, baby,” Jean said as he gently rubbed his knuckles against Bradley’s cheek. “I have my own flaws which are many. The only two good things about me are that I don’t keep things bottled up and I’m not quick-tempered. Apart from these two, I’m a terrible person.”

“You know you’re not. Stop fishing.” Bradley chuckled, snuggling closer and slipping a hand under Jean’s t-shirt to rub his chest.

“All I’m trying to say is that even me, the people I love have not given up on me. So why would I give up on you? We’re in this together.”

Bradley nodded. “I need to say something. But I don’t want you to get angry.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me you won’t get angry.”

Jean sighed. “I promise.”

Bradley remained quiet for a while before he started speaking quietly. “I know you think the worst of Wendell.” Bradley felt Jean tense up against him but went on. “I see where you’re coming from. What he did with me was wrong…”

“To you.” Jean corrected harshly.

“You promised.” Bradley placed the hand that was under Jean’s t-shirt against his chest.

“Sorry.”

“He shouldn’t have done that. But we shouldn’t judge him because we are no saints.”

“Are you being real right now?” Jean gasped.

“Shh… Hear me out, please.” Bradley said firmly. “I hate that you have so much anger inside for Wendell. It’s not healthy. Whatever sins he committed is between him and his god. Let it go.” Bradley locked eyes with Jean, his eyes pleading.

“That is bullshit.” Jean rasped. “Are you done?”

“No.” Bradley sighed. “Wendell came into my life when I had no one. As much as I agree that what he did was wrong, he gave me some comfort. There is no way I can hate the guy.”

“I haven’t said you should hate him,” Jean muttered. “I just don’t want you idolizing him in your head because what he did was wicked.”

“You mean teaching me about sex? You’re enjoying the fruits of his labour.”

“Fuck this.” Jean started to get up but Bradley pushed him back down.

“For someone who is not quick-tempered and who has promised not to get angry, you sure are fuming.” He muttered, making Jean even angrier.

“I don’t think I’m ready to have this conversation,” Jean growled.

“This is not about you, Jean,” Bradley growled back. “I don’t know what to feel. It feels like a war is raging within me. I’m just trying to understand myself. I’ve thought about this long and hard for the two hours I’ve been here alone. I just need you to listen to me.”

“Three hours.” Jean corrected, softening at Bradley’s words. “I’m listening.” He said softly.

“Thank you.” Bradley looked…stressed. “On one hand, he did something totally unacceptable. I get that. I’m old enough and sane enough to know that. But on the other hand, he made me happy. He made me forget about the fact that my parents didn’t really give a fuck about me. Admittedly, he went about it the wrong way but he did his best. It wasn’t all sex. He took care of me, helped me with my studies, taught me things that I saw the parents of other kids teaching them, and cared about what happened to me. Surely all that can’t be bad. He didn’t have to care.

After a point, I would have still given him sex without him having to do all the things he did for me. He was a genuinely nice guy. I’m trying to separate the two images of him but it’s difficult because at the end of the day, he’s just one person. And I’m grateful for all the good things he did for me.” Bradley paused and took a deep breath. “There are lots of kids who get abused at some point in their lives. Most of such kids become abusers themselves. Maybe Wendell was abu…”

“Now you’re just making excuses for him.” Jean cut him off.

“I thought you were listening to what I have to say.” Bradley groaned.

“Well, you were making sense until that last statement.” Jean retorted.

“Now, that’s just rude, Jean,” Bradley muttered. “You know I can whoop your arse, right?”

“Maybe I’m the wrong person to do this with, Brad.” Jean sighed. “You need to speak to a professional. They can help you sort out your feelings and…”

“I don’t want a professional. I want to talk to you.” Bradley whispered. “I don’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“Does it look like I can help? I can’t even curb my anger long enough to be objective for fuck’s sake. A professional wouldn’t get angry, he or she would help you understand yourself.” Jean softened his tone. “It is the job of a therapist to help you come to terms with what happened to you, to enable you move on, baby. You should have seen one years ago. All those panic attacks could have been avoided if you’d seen a good therapist. It’s not all about Wendell. It’s about your entire childhood.

How you were ignored by your parents, what you suffered at the hands of your father, your mother not standing up for you, witnessing a brutal murder…everything. Until you work on that, you will not be completely free. That’s the job of a therapist which, unfortunately, I’m not.” Jean leaned his forehead against Bradley’s. “I want the very best for you. I want you to be okay.”

“But I am.” Bradley whimpered. “When I’m with you, I’m okay. For as long as you remain in my life, I don’t have a problem.”

“So you think. Remember all that you spewed about Wendell not too long ago?” Jean drawled. “Until you accept that he was bad for you, you cannot say you don’t have a problem.” Jean drew back. “Think about it.”