Page 63 of Bull's Boy

“Hi, sweetie,” she said, wiping the lipstick smudge off Bull’s cheek. She looked around him, smiling when she saw Malcolm where he was still frozen, a kitten under each arm. “Have you two eaten dinner yet? We brought pulled pork.”

Malcolm’s stomach growled, and she laughed, light and carefree.

“Excellent. Bull, sweetie, set the table,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen after her wife.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen until they were walking out the door with the food,” Marv said, stepping in and nudging the door shut, hands full with a six-pack of beer and what looked to be homemade rolls. He nodded at Malcolm. “Hey, man.” He turned to Bull. “I didn’t realize when they invited me over for dinner that they didn’t mean at their house.”

“I should have seen this coming.” Bull sighed, rubbing his face. “They could have at least called first.”

He didn’t actually sound very annoyed, just exasperated.

“And give you the opportunity to say no?” Marv gave him a look, then strolled into the kitchen.

Bull turned to Malcolm, running a hand down his bare chest. “I should probably put some more clothes on.”

Carefully, he bent over, biting back a moan, and released the kittens. Their paws barely even touched the floor before they were bounding after the newcomers. When Bull tried to walkpast him, Malcolm grabbed his arm, hissing, “I’m coming with you.”

He looked genuinely confused for a second, and then understanding dawned, and he chuckled. Stepping closer, Bull wrapped an arm around him and settled a hand on his ass, squeezing.

Malcolm gasped, rocking onto his toes as lightning shot through him.

“You don’t want to eat dinner with my moms and brother while you’ve got this plug inside you, baby boy?” Bull whispered.

“N-no,” Malcolm stuttered. “Especially not when you could turn on the vibration at any moment.”

Bull pressed his lips to Malcolm’s ear. “The second they leave, I’m shoving that plug back inside your needy little hole and playing with you for the rest of the night. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Malcolm said breathlessly, gripping Bull’s shoulders as his knees went weak.

“Good answer.”

“He was only five years old, but he was as big as the eight-year-olds,” Sally said with relish, waving her fork in the air. She was at one end of the table with Bo to her right, and Bull was at the other end, being a great sport about mostly getting roasted by his moms. “He walked right up to them and said, ‘Don’t hurt my brother.’”

“That’s so sweet,” Malcolm said, turning and smiling at Bull. His cheeks were flushed above his thick stubble, and he kept his eyes on his plate.

God, he was so fucking adorable.

Malcolm laid a hand on his forearm, giving it a squeeze. That got Bull to look up, his smile small and a lot embarrassed. Across from Malcolm, Marv wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed away his plate.

“I would have been okay on my own if there hadn’t been four of them,” Marv said, leaning back in his chair, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.

“Yes, dear, we know,” Bo said, smiling at her eldest as she delicately buttered a roll.

Marv grabbed the back of her chair. Leaning over, he mock-whispered, “I don’t think you believe me.”

“Well, you were rather… small for your age,” Bo whispered back, closing the distance between them and planting a kiss on his clean-shaven jaw.

“I was perfectly average. I just looked small next to this guy,” he retorted, sitting upright and jerking a thumb at Bull.

“You foughtfoureight-year-olds when you were five?” Malcolm asked, eyes widening.

Bull shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t like bullies.”

His heart melted at the soft words as Bull played with the little bit of food left on his plate.

“Fightis a strong word. He basically just pushed one down, and then I caught up and put a stop to everything,” Sally said,laughing and shaking her head. “It was so cute, and that’s when I knew he’d excel at football.”

Malcolm chuckled, imagining a mini-Bull running around in pads and a helmet.

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