Claiming Whisper

By J.M. Dabney

What happens when you choose to throw fear aside and live unapologetically?

I did just that and never looked back. Although, I’d thought I was content until my best friend asked for a favor, and it brought me face-to-face with a big, bearded bear of a man. It wasn’t love at first sight, but it was something. I hadn’t realized how overwhelming that feeling was until Anderson Mara wanted me to be his.

This book was previously published in Dirty Daddies Anniversary Anthology 2020. This version only contains about 5k additional words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.M. Dabney
• Release date: Aug 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781947184466

Book preview

1

Whisper

I was supposed to be home in my onesie, with my favorite sippy cup, and coloring while I caught up on my cartoons for the week, but no. My best friend, Bell, dragged me out to help his former step-grandfather move. He knew I didn't do well with strangers—my brain was always on high alert for Stranger Danger. My Little was in full-on pout mode, and he didn’t care, he'd shown up to find me enjoying my weekly Play Day.

He found it weird, but I didn't care. I was polite enough to refrain from saying anything when he watched serial killer documentaries with an almost hard-on like enthusiasm. I’d quickly decided he’d no longer have a key to my place or the alarm code—Bundy 2.0 would get tasered.

Come on. It's a few hours of moving some boxes, work on those muscles of yours.

I flipped him off, and he chuckled. My muscles were fine. After two years on gender affirming hormones and top surgery, I was finally happy with my body. For thirty years, I'd put on the straight cis-girl act to make everyone happy—to make myself fit after being an outsider growing up. I was thirty-two and didn't give a fuck about that anymore. My trans man and Little judged every bigot openly because I'd lived in the closet too long for other people's comfort.

Whisper, come on, it's not that bad. He hasn't lived here in ten years. The only friends he had were in Grandma's circle, and he called me knowing I’d help. And out of all my grandmother's boy toys, he's the one I liked.

I'd met the woman several times, and every occasion I did, she had a new man on her arm who looked younger than the one before. Granted, she was the type of woman I swore was a shapeshifting swamp witch who never aged but had the personality of a rabid Chupacabra. Through osmosis, she stole the essence from men to top off her murky fountain of youth.

I said I would help, but I don't have to like it. Maybe I gave him too much of a hard time, but he’d be there whenever I called no matter what. He'd held me when I went through my wine-induced, blurted confession that I was Transgender. He just kissed the top of my head and told me I still wouldn't be his type because I was too short.

And that's all I'll ask. I'll even get you a kid's meal on the way home.

Aw, but you're not going to be Daddy.

Wouldn't think of it. Besides, you're not my type.

"Uh-huh, last time I heard that you nearly went out with that curious straight dude just because he was, and I quote, hung like a Clydesdale."

"Hey, I'm a bit of a size snob, I don't judge you for your Little eccentricities. And I didn't appreciate that donut cushion and get-well bouquet and balloons for my ass the next day. That arrived, if you don't remember, at my office."

I snorted loudly at his bitchy expression. And that’s the attitude that makes me wonder why I call you my best friend.

He was about to snark back at me but clicked on his turn signal instead. Okay, we're here. Don't be weird.

Have you met me? The long winding driveway was lined with towering trees. I was totally having a flashback to some mutant inbred horror movie. Good thing we were in a populated area, plenty of places to run for help. I dramatically checked my phone to make sure I had reception.

Yes, and that's why I'm saying, don't be weird.

I gave him an offended gasp, and then I stared at a huge, beautiful home with a river stone facade. That was a house I'd have to sell what was left of my soul for. It was like my dream home, except it didn't have a moat and sniper nests to keep people away, but there was potential.

When he pulled to a stop beside a big black SUV, movers were unloading furniture, and one caught my eye. Big man alert. He had a thick bulky body, with a bonus belly. He looked to be in his forties, but maybe older, I couldn't tell. Tattooed and a full, trimmed beard.

Be gay, be gay or at least bisexual.

I got out and closed the door, leaning there watching the behemoth and his sweaty muscles.

Will you stop? I should've told you to bring one of your bibs. When are you going to start dating? Sex-deprived Whisper is a scary incarnation.

Why must he remind me? It was the one thing I hadn't done since I began my transition. Not that I wasn't all for it, but a small but loud minority weren't exactly running to jump into bed with me. Also, there was the Little thing. It had been a part of my pre-transition days as well, but I'd hid it like I had a lot of needs and wants and dreams.

He hooked his arm through mine and dragged me toward the moving truck. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and my favorite black boots. Then I thought I wished I’d done more with myself.

Anderson, he called out, and to my horror, the sexy mover turned with a huge smile. The guy set the box he was carrying aside and closed the distance between us.

Oh damn. He had this amazing, lazy swagger and this aura of calmness, yet his presence commanded everyone’s attention.

Bell, so glad you could help. I know it was last minute, and you probably had better things to do.

Luckily, I had a best friend who was bored—

I wasn't bored.

He ignored me and continued, "That was bored and couldn't wait to help me assist you to move and unpack."

Well, bored or not, I appreciate it. I only have a week to settle in before I need to report for work. He extended his hand to me, and I took it so I wouldn't appear rude and not just because I wanted to know if his hands were rough or smooth. Anderson Mara.

Whisper Groves.

Whisper, interesting name.

My mother dropped acid after I was born, calling it some naming ceremony and bam, Whisper. Personally, I think she just wanted the acid or DMT, but whatever. I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. I earned a deep chuckle from Anderson and a crooked smile.

Whisper. Bell gave me a dirty look. I told you not to be weird.

And I asked had you met me. I believe that people should enjoy the full scope of my uniqueness.

No fighting.

The command in his voice was clear as Bell and I glared each other down, and I turned to him as soon as he said it.

Damn, you followed orders. I'll have to ask how he did that.

I lowered my voice and leaned to the side. You wouldn't like the answer. As soon as I said it, Bell groaned and pushed me away, and I caught myself before I stumbled into Anderson. I've been best friends with him for seven years, has he always been so…uptight?

It might just be you, baby boy.

I jerked my gaze to his face, and he was smirking.

Oh damn.

"The moving crew has almost all the furniture inside and in place, boxes are everywhere, but labeled for where they go. If