by Leta Blake
Grant didn’t look at Leo, though. He looked down at Lucky, took her chin in his hand and he searched her hazel eyes. He remembered the tantrum she’d thrown the day before when she hadn’t wanted to help wash the dishes. He recalled the full-on screaming, the stomping, and the tears. Grant had been flabbergasted, and he’d stared at her then thinking she had been replaced in her sleep by an alien. But he’d have never hurt her, or called her names, or slapped her face.
Grant said, “I’m better than that.”
Lucky looked confused but said, “You’re the best in the whole world.”
Grant smiled a little at her sweet confidence in him, and Leo said, “Grant—you could never.”
Grant shrugged and said, “Okay, carrot, I told my secret. So, your turn. Spill it.”
Lucky looked at Leo and squeezed Grant’s hand harder like she was seeking his strength. “I don’t want Hannah to be my mommy. I don’t want her. Ever.”
Leo’s face dissolved with affection. “Baby, she’s always going to be the woman that you grew inside of, but I’m your dad. Me and Grant are your parents.”
“Dr. Grant?” Lucky asked, looking up at him.
“Yup,” Grant said. “We can make it official. You can be my kid. But only if you want that.”
“What about Papa?” Lucky asked.
“He’ll always be your Papa,” Leo said. “He loves you. But this way you’ll have me and Grant, and if I can’t be around—”
“Why wouldn’t you be around?” Lucky asked, warily. She wasn’t anywhere close to being over having almost lost Leo.
“Hopefully, I’m going to be around for a long time,” Leo said. “But if I couldn’t be around for some reason, you could be with Grant. Would you like that? Do you want Grant to be your other dad?”
Lucky thought about it for a long time, and Grant’s gut started to churn. His palms began to sweat, and he felt sick. He didn’t know if he could stomach how much it would hurt if she said no.
“And Papa will be Papa?”
Leo nodded.
“And if you…if you…then Dr. Grant will take care of me? Forever?”
“Yes,” Grant said.
Lucky nodded her head. “Okay. That’s good. I like that.”
Leo said, “You could call him Pop, or—”
“Or Dr. Grant,” Grant said.
Leo looked at him like he was being a jerk.
“Dr. Grant,” Lucky said, clapping her hands together happily.
“It’s a little formal, don’t you think, Grant,” Leo said, and he widened his eyes at Grant like he should change his mind.
“No one calls him that but me,” Lucky said. “It’s mine. I like it.”
Grant nodded and gave her a high five.
Leo rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. Whatever. You guys are the least—”
“Sentimental romantic boobs,” Grant supplied.
“I’ve ever met,” Leo finished.
“I’m going to grow boobs one day,” Lucky said sounding a little worried about that.
Grant flashed to a future of boys—or girls—knocking on the door to take her out on dates, and he imagined her coming down to greet them with her freshly grown breasts on display in some too-small dress, and he shuddered. What had he just agreed to in becoming her other dad?
Leo laughed and agreed that breasts would grace her chest when she was older, and Grant had to shake away the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I love you, Daddy,” Lucky said as Grant and Leo left the room together.
Grant noticed that Leo moved slowly, stiff from the transplant wound which was healing nicely, but still had a way to go.
“’Night, Lucky. I love you, too,” Leo said.
Grant blew her a kiss and had the door almost closed when Lucky called out, “I love you, Dr. Grant.”
He opened it a little and gazed in at her little face staring earnestly at in him the darkened room. “I love you too, carrot.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Grant,” Leo breathed as he shut the bedroom door behind them, and then leaned back against it. “You never told me.”
Grant shrugged, starting on the buttons of his shirt and kicking his shoes off next to the closet door. “Yeah, well.” He shrugged again.
He tossed his shirt in the hamper in the closet and unbuckled his belt. He could feel Leo’s eyes on him, the sadness and worry pouring across the room in a steady, thick stream of affection. Grant sighed.
Leo pushed off from the door, and Grant let Leo wrap his arms around Grant’s waist and closed his eyes as Leo pressed kisses to his shoulders and collar bone.
“It was a long time ago,” Grant said, lifting Leo’s chin. “It sucked. I lived through it. Chalk one up for the resilience of kids.”
Leo didn’t look convinced. “Did he hurt you a lot?”
Grant looked at the ceiling, and his lips pressed into a thin line, considering. “The physical abuse was minimal. My aunt took the brunt of that.”
Leo’s eyes went even wider, and tears shone in them. His lips pressed into a trembling frown, and Grant wanted to kiss the worry away, but he knew better. Leo was going to drag this out of him. He might as well just spill it, get it over with, and move on to the sex he was sure to get as compensation for sharing the horror of his childhood. It might make up for having to dredge it all up at least.
“Grant…” Leo murmured. “Did he hit her?”
Grant groaned and pulled away, moving toward the bed, but not sitting down. He stared at the blue quilt that Leo had pulled out of one of the hallway closets when he got home from the hospital, saying it was his favorite and that Memaw’s mother had made it.
“It wasn’t every day,” Grant said. “He was brusque. Rude. Insulting. Demanding. A perfectionist.”
“Oh,” Leo said softly.
Grant said with a half-smile, “Yeah. Well, let’s just say I fell short of his expertise in assholery. Hard to believe, I know.” Grant looked down as Leo’s arms wrapped around him from behind.
“How often did he hit you, too?”
Grant felt Leo kiss the back of his shoulders and up his neck, nothing passionate. Soothing kisses, like Leo wanted Grant to know that he was adored now, even if he wasn’t then. Grant still thought that might be the craziest part about this thing with Leo.
“It happened,” Grant said. “I won’t deny that it did. But it was worse when he hit her.”
“Did he drink?” Leo asked.
Grant nodded and turned around in Leo’s arms, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, he drank.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Leo bit his lip and his face showed that he was feeling emotionally wobbly. Grant wanted to smooth it away, to get Leo to smile again, but he knew Leo well enough to know they weren’t done.
Leo said, “I promise you, Grant. Our house won’t ever be like that. I would never do that to you or to Lucky.”
Grant laughed and said, “Is that what you think? That I’m worried you’ll turn into my uncle?” Grant laughed again. “I cannot even begin to tell you how much I’m not worried about that.”
“You won’t turn into him either,” Leo said earnestly.
“I know,” Grant said. “I know that.”
“Because you’re not him,” Leo said. “You’re a good man.”
Grant lifted Leo’s chin and kissed his soft, warm lips that opened and grew desperate and eager so fast. Lust was always quick to ignite between them. Grant pulled at Leo’s shirt, getting it up and over his head, breaking away as little as possible, just wanting skin under his hands.
Leo shivered and pressed against Grant, drawing his fingers down Grant’s stomach, before grabbing Grant’s hips and dragging him hard against his body. Grant wrapped his arms around Leo and the fresh scar on Leo’s side rubbed against Grant’s forearm. He pulled away from Leo’s mouth, kissing down his neck and chest to Leo’s heart transplant scar, pressing kisses the whole way. T
hen he moved down to the fresh, new purple scar on his side. He got his mouth on the sensitive tissue, kissing and sucking lightly, as Leo tossed his head back and forth and made soft gasping noises.
When Grant came back to Leo’s mouth, he found Leo’s face a mess of emotions. Grant picked through them—awe, surprise, worry, love, lust. It all made Grant feel hungry, possessive, furious in his desire to never let Leo go.
“Make love to me,” Leo whispered.
A burst of affection crashed inside him. It was intense and it broke him, but he wanted it every day for the rest of their lives.
“How do you want me to do that?” Grant asked. “Like this?”
Grant kissed Leo’s neck and then bit down until he felt Leo jerk and heard his gasp.
“Yeah,” Leo whimpered.
“Like this?” Grant ran his fingers over Leo’s scars, and then brought his hands up to pinch Leo’s nipples so hard that Leo’s knees buckled a little.
“Oh,” Leo said, trembling and breathing hard. “Please.”
Grant gazed at him, pinching harder until Leo whimpered and humped against Grant’s hip. “I could fuck you,” Grant said.
“Yeah,” Leo said, desperation all over his face. “Fuck me.”
“Maybe,” Grant said, releasing his tits. “How much do you want it?”
Leo’s trembling turned into outright shaking and Leo scrabbled at his own jeans, trying to get them off. “So much. Please, Grant. Please.”
“Get on the bed. On your back,” Grant said, stripping his own pants off.
Leo spread on himself out on the bed wantonly. His thick, hot cock arched up, flexing, with a pearl of pre-come dropping down to his stomach.
“I can’t wait,” Leo said. “It’s been too long. Thought I might never…”
Grant pushed him down into the mattress, kneeling over Leo, dragging his own balls over the length of Leo’s cock. They’d done a lot—even during the last week in the hospital—they’d used hands and mouths, but Grant hadn’t fucked him since several weeks before the surgery. Leo had been too sick before, and after, until now, he’d been too fragile.
It wasn’t how Grant had planned it. He’d wanted to give Leo some absurd and romantic fuck, something long and drawn out, something to show how much he loved everything about Leo and his body, and how much he’d missed it. He’d thought that’s what Leo would want. But that wasn’t what happened.
Grant shoved Leo’s legs back, less rough than he would have been before the surgery, but not gently because he knew Leo liked it when Grant was forceful with him. He knelt below Leo’s exposed ass, and ran a finger down Leo’s his crack, teasing is hole. Leo’s legs started shaking hard. A coarse and needy lust gripped Grant, and he spread Leo’s ass cheeks, and bent low, pressing his mouth to Leo’s asshole. He licked and sucked, getting Leo as wet as possible, and then he sat up and reached into the bedside drawer for lube. Carefully, he opened Leo up, and then slicked himself.
“Ready, baby?”
“Yes, please, please.”
With a groan, Grant worked his cock in. Leo was tight, not as prepared as Grant usually insisted on, but Grant couldn’t wait, and Leo’s eyes were so wide and pleading.
As he moved deeper, Leo made a noise that wasn’t entirely good, but when Grant started to back out, Leo reached up and grabbed Grant’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. As their tongues moved together, Leo lifted his hips, trying to take more inside.
“Hold on,” Grant said, pulling away. “Wait a second.”
“No waiting,” Leo whimpered. “Now. Now, Grant. Now.”
Grant grabbed hold of Leo’s hands and forced them down, pulled back enough to spill more lube on Leo’s asshole, and then pressed in.
Leo’s legs jerked and then his asshole seemed to tremble around Grant’s cock and give way. Another good squirt of lube slicked the rest of the push inside, and Grant was satisfied that the fuck would be good for Leo now.
He came back to Leo’s mouth, kissing him, as he screwed him with steady, surging thrusts. Leo squirmed beneath him, trying to get it faster and harder, jittering all over, and begging with everything he had. He kissed all the skin he could find—Grant’s mouth, chin, neck, ear—whatever he could get his lips against as he whined and moaned.
Grant trailed his hands down Leo’s body, feeling the thick transplant scars, and thinking of how close it’d been, how fragile, how touch and go. He closed his eyes and drove into Leo’s slick, convulsing heat, overwhelmed by how good it was to fuck him hard, to know that Leo was resilient and strong enough to take it.
Leo groaned under him, whimpered, and babbled. When the first trembling of Leo’s haunches heralded an anal orgasm on the wat, Leo threw his head back, surrendering easily to the pleasure, and babbling incoherent gratitude. He thanked Grant for fucking him and for making him come like that. Taking aim, Grant fucked Leo harder, not being very careful, not taking his time, because Leo’s body could take it, thank God, and Leo wanted it.
“Oh, God, Grant!” Leo’s cock rubbed against Grant’s stomach and, looking down at Leo’s pleasure-torn face, he knew Leo was seconds away from losing his load. If Leo touched himself, he’d burst in just a few strokes, but Grant wanted to see if Leo could come just from this. Just from Grant fucking him hard.
When Leo started to reach for his own cock, Grant grabbed Leo’s hands and held them both against the mattress. Fucking Leo faster, harder, making sure that his stomach rubbed over Leo’s cock on each thrust, he stared down at Leo’s wrecked face as Leo tossed his head on the pillow.
“Grant,” Leo whimpered. “Please, oh…oh, ah!” Leo’s eyes flew wide and he tensed, pressed his ass up to receive Grant’s thrusts, and his mouth opened in a sweet O as he stared up into Grant’s eyes and came hard with a small cry. Come burst from his straining cock, and slicked their stomachs.
Grant slowed down then, dragging his cock in and out more slowly as Leo jerked through aftershocks beneath him. Grant kissed Leo’s eyes, his cheeks, and his lips. He stared down at him, studying every precious expression.
A few minutes later, Leo quivered, oversensitive, and Grant knew that it was hurting a little. So he slid in and out of him gently, still close to coming, but holding back, loving the way Leo shivered and bit his lip with each thrust.
It was strange, given how frantic the fuck had been, but, when his orgasm finally hit, it was sweet. A slow roll that started with Leo whispering Grant’s name, and then pulsed through Grant’s body with warm, intense heat. It left him sated, amazed, and somehow even more in love with Leo than before.
“I love you,” Leo said.
Grant rubbed his nose against Leo’s and then kissed his mouth. “I love you, too.”
Leo smiled and laughed a little, his ass squeezing Grant’s cock and setting off a series of sweet aftershocks that made Grant close his eyes and shiver.
“You make me happy,” Leo said softly.
“Good.” Grant ran his fingers lightly through Leo’s hair. “That was my plan.”
“You make good plans then.”
Grant kissed him softly. His entire world held in the beating heart of the man in his arms.
• • •
Two Days Later
“He’s going to be my dad, so shut up,” Lucky said with her hands on her hips.
Grant’s eyes narrowed as he took in the small boy Lucky was talking to. The kid was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed he was God’s gift to football. Grant doubted that very much.
The small sea of children and their parents separating him from where Lucky was standing on the opposite side of the classroom didn’t part for him. He tried to shoo some kids aside, but then it all went to hell.
“My dad said that doctor is a queer!” the boy said. “Your dads are fags!”
As Grant watched, Lucky’s eyes went bright with rage. She balled her hand up into a fist and socked the hell out of the kid. He fell back about a foot. He blinked wildly and then he started to wail.<
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“You’re mean!” Lucky yelled. “And I’ll hit you again if you ever say mean things about my dads!”
The other parents and kids went silent. Everyone turned toward the drama, and Grant had an even harder time pushing through. He was only supposed to pick Lucky up from school because Leo had a follow-up appointment with Dr. Gregor in Raleigh. Grant hadn’t expected picking her up to be an event.
The teacher, Mrs. Franklin, Grant believed her name was, got there before Grant. She hitched up her skirt and knelt by the boy, looking at his cheek where a bruise was swelling. Her wrinkled face twisted at what she found, and then she turned to Lucky. “There’s never any call for violence, Miss Lucky Garner-Banks!”
At that, Grant shoved through the parents and said, “I beg to differ. She has my permission to slug anyone who calls her dad a fag.”
Mrs. Franklin looked up from where she was tending the boy and said, “Mr. Anderson—”
“Doctor Anderson,” Grant replied.
Mrs. Franklin looked pissed at that, but Grant was pretty sure he could take the bitch. The murmur from the parents behind him didn’t surprise him either. He couldn’t care less. Lucky could beat the shit out of anyone who tried to make her feel less for having two—or three—fathers.
“Dr. Anderson,” Mrs. Franklin said nastily. She straightened her skirt as she rose. “There are rules at this school, and the number one rule has always been that violence of any kind will not be tolerated for any reason.”
Grant put his hand on Lucky’s head. “Well, Mrs. Franklin, I think I recall a big issue at the high school a few years ago? A Michael Dunfee? A bullying incident I believe it was, and it led to his suicide. I recall a huge march against hate speech. So let me say this now: it starts—and will stop—here.”
Mrs. Franklin said, “Dr. Anderson, I’m not condoning what Robby said, but—”
Suddenly a small woman with dark hair and a nervous face was at Robby’s side, saying, “Oh, baby, what happened? Are you okay?”
Grant rolled his eyes. The kid’s mother. Great.
