The Boy Who Belonged by Henry Lisa & Rock J.A

Author:Henry, Lisa & Rock, J.A. [Rock, J.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT, BDSM, Holidays
ISBN: 9781623006068
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2013-12-16T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Andy?”

Derek groaned and rolled over in bed. Why was Lane calling Andy at this hour? It wasn’t even light outside.

“Andy?” This time it was followed up by a low whistle. And it wasn’t coming from the sleeping body beside his.

Derek jolted awake.

Andy was sitting on the end of the bed, head cocked, ears pricked. He looked anxiously at Derek.

“Andy.” There was a note of gentle cajolery in the tone now. Exactly the same tone that Lane used to convince Andy to take his worming tablets. Except that was definitely Lane still lying beside Derek, still sound asleep. He’d rolled onto his side as soon as Derek had untied him, burrowing in close at first and tucking his head under Derek’s chin. Now he was on his back, breathing deeply as he slept.

Derek rose from the bed. Andy’s tags jingled as he jumped down. They usually left the bedroom door ajar at night so that Andy could come and go as he pleased—the rule about no dogs on the bed had lasted about a second—but Andy must have bumped it closed during the night. Derek opened it.

Another whistle. Another, “Andy!”

Andy wagged his tail, and headed for the sound.

Derek followed him, flicking on lights as he went. He caught up with the dog in the living room, where he was looking around in bewilderment. At the total lack of any person calling him, and back to Derek again.

“You shit,” Derek told the innocent-looking macaw in the cage. “You total shit.”

Mr. Zimmerman ruffled his feathers. “Angina!”

“It’s the bird,” Derek tried to explain to the uncomprehending dog. “It wasn’t Lane.”

Andy was still looking around.

“And you,” Derek said, heading into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, “when did you get so good at mimicry?”

Mr. Z had always had the ability to pick up foul words and screech them back at the most inappropriate moments. Well, at most any moments. But he’d never sounded quite so human before.

Derek looked at the clock on the microwave. Not even 6 a.m. “Damn you, Mr. Zimmerman!”

“I like Derek,” Mr. Z called back.

“He doesn’t like you much.” Derek turned on the coffeemaker. Great. So now he wasn’t just talking to animals, he was carrying on whole conversations.

He let Andy outside, watching from the back door, shivering, as Andy did his usual stiff-legged walk across the crackling frost. What was it with dogs that, whatever the weather, they had to find the perfect spot before they could pee?

When Andy finally came back inside, Derek fed him in the kitchen and even cut up a banana for Mr. Zimmerman. He let the macaw sit on his wrist, his claws digging in almost painfully, and eat the banana from his hand. All the while, Mr. Z made small appreciative noises, crooning as he ate.

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” Derek asked him. “Teasing Andy like that.”

If macaws could purr, that was exactly what Mr. Z did.

Lane padded into the kitchen, hair sticking up, pajama pants untied and hanging loose off his hips.

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