by Xavier Neal
“Is it for religious reasons? In memory of someone? Drunken ‘it looks cool’ decision?”
“It’s a reminder that my choices and my sins are mine to bear. That I need to be responsible for the actions I make. They have consequences that I have to deal with it.”
My answer causes his hand to stroke it with his thumb. Tilting his head to the side he states, “That’s why your initials are in it.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you willing to let anyone else share that burden? The weight? The responsibility?”
Surprised, I’m knocked backwards. “I don’t know. No one’s ever asked.”
Before Luke can ask I pounce on his lips in an attempt to entomb the emotional attachment that’s growing instead of dying. His mouth invites my tongue in at the same time his hips grind his hard cock against mine.
Between sharp and intense kisses Luke manages to ask, “Your turn?”
Peppering kisses down his neck once more, I flirt, “That an invitation?”
The nod is the only answer I need before burying my tongue back in his mouth, this time more aggressively than before. Impatiently I stretch out and grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand beside us, flick the lid open, and squeeze a decent amount on my fingers, dropping the bottle thoughtlessly. Slipping off, back onto my side, I graze his balls with the cool liquid to hear him whimper in pleasure before working my fingers to loosen him. I start gentle at first, wrapped up in the emotional high that comes from the trust he’s giving me and the simple fact I think when I tell him about Sara he’s gonna stay, but before I know it the barbarous desire to claim him pushes my fingers faster. As soon as he’s withered enough to test all the patience I have, I climb on top, lift his legs up, and dive in imprinting my name on the imminent orgasm. Roughly I piston into him while his hands are clutching at the sheets for dear life. His legs are hooked around my hips keeping me in place for each blow that’s tearing him apart. With every moan that comes out of him louder than the last, a feeling of untamed pride swells in my body, pumping though my system knowing I’ve never had a lover give himself to me the way Luke is.
And I don’t mean I’ve never topped before. I mean I’ve never gone bareback or had someone look me in the eyes during sex.
“Nurse Man,” I whisper holding back the orgasm that is knocking at my door.
Luke’s eyes force themselves open. “Yeah?”
“Can you look at me?” the simple request slows my jack hammering hips down. “I want you to see what you’re doing to me.”
He moans again at my cock nudging his sweet spot, but keeps his eyes on me. Lowering my body down so our foreheads are pressed together, I slow down the speed but increase the intensity. We continue this enticing, torturous rocking while I watch his gray eyes swim to the blue side giving me another piece of him he gives to so very few.
The familiar changing of his breaths occurs and I’m thankful because I’m right there with him.
“Come for me Luke and I’ll come for you,” I whisper shutting my eyes tightly letting his guttural groan reverberate through me. He comes quickly over both of us at the same time I free mine inside of him, provoking another soft cry of ecstasy.
Neither of us move for the next couple of minutes stuck in a beautiful frozen moment some people never find in a life time.
One I never thought I would.
“You didn’t wrap it,” he mutters still slightly breathless. Before I can rebuttal his nose brushes against mine forcing my eyes open. “I’m trusting you would have told me if you weren’t clean.”
Smiling at his comment, I nod. “I’m clean.” With a quick glance down I add on, “Well not at the moment.” When Luke starts laughing, I get up, retrieve us a warm cloth to clean up the aftermath of the greatest sex I’ve had in my life.
What do you mean that wasn’t sex? Love making? You think I’m in love? Is that what all this is? Okay then answer me this, why didn’t I feel it with Jack? What do you mean true love? Now you’re just adding words to try to make your case. Don’t go to court with C.J.
Once I’m finished wiping Luke down I stand and just smile at him as he looks up at me with a dopey expression.
I know that expression. I’ve seen it on all our friends before. It’s the one of...shit. Love. We’re in love huh?
A cell phone ringing cuts through our thoughts and Luke declares, “Not mine. It’s still on silent.”
Confused who could be calling me this early in the morning, I grab it from my pocket, my eyes popping out of their sockets at the sight of my mother’s name on the screen.
Quickly I turn my back to Luke and answer, “Hello.”
“You can’t possibly still be sleeping,” she fusses. “We taught you better.”
“No. I’m not,” I rush out the words.
“Oh good because we’re headed for your apartment.”
“What?” I snap louder, alerting Luke to sit up. “Why?”
“Don’t be rude,” my mother shames me. “We came in for the banquet tonight remember?” Having completely forgotten I shut my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose. “And I came up with the brilliant idea to stop by to see you before going to the hotel! Isn’t that lovely?”
“Lovely...” I mock rushing to grab my boxers and slip into them. “How far are you?”
“Well when the check comes, about thirty minutes,” she describes giving me a slightly larger window to breathe. “You’re home aren’t you?”
“Uh no...but I will be,” I assure her tossing my shirt on over my head.
“Where are you?”
“Nowhere special,” the words come out of my mouth before cutting to Luke who clearly looks hurt by the comment.
Fuck.
“I’ll be there. I gotta go,” I say hanging up on her before she can say anything else. Pulling out my keys I insist, “That didn’t sound the way it came out.”
“Oh good because that sounded like what just happened here didn’t mean anything,” Luke gripes pulling on a pair of sexy silk boxers that make me want to yank them off and go one more round.
Shaking off the thought, I open his bedroom door. “I swear, it did. But I have to go.”
“Why?”
Not ready to get into everything I shake my head. “I just do.”
Luke follows me out of his room and down the stairs to the front door, angry huffs coming out of him with every chance he gets. At the front door he finally snaps, “You just do?”
“Yes.” I bluntly answer.
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Can’t you—”
“No. I can’t. And I can’t explain.”
“Stuart—”
“Luke,” I cut him off. “I’ll call you later.”
Opening his front door for me to leave, he sighs defeated, “Okay.”
Prepared to rush to my car, the nagging feeling that this will be the last time I get to see him like this kicks me in the ass. Turning back around, I recklessly grab him by the back of the neck, join our lips, and shut my eyes tightly. With everything I have in me, I suck his bottom lip, his top lip, and taste his tongue one final time before pulling away leaving his face flushed and lips swollen. It’s the look I know I’m going to miss. Without another word, I walk away and hurry to my car.
What choice do I have right now? Sara may be the princess of hate, but my father is the king.
Chapter 19
Stuart
Thankful that I beat my parents to my apartment with enough time to grab a quick rinse off, I hustle down the stairs tucking my shirt in. Opening the door I’m not surprised to see the picture perfect campaign moment waiting for me.
Heaven forbid they go anywhere not looking like they are ready for a fucking photo op. While my blonde hair and blue eyes come from her, my stature resembles his. It’s al
most like a perfected mixture of their physical genetics.
“Stuart,” my mother coos placing a hand on my face, a kiss on my cheek.
“Mother.” I reply before extending my hand to shake my father’s.
Once he does, he looks around at my apartment. “Not the dump I was expecting.”
I clink my tongue ring around in my mouth to fight the urge to respond, which causes my mother to scold, “You still have that? I thought we discussed you taking it out. I hate that thing.”
Another reason I keep it.
“Well the house you are moving into in Maryland is fantastic.” My mother waves a hand around. “Oh look you’ve even begun packing.”
“House?” my voice questions following her into my living room that’s filled with boxes. “What do you mean house? I’m renting an apartment, the next city over from yours.”
“Unacceptable,” my father states his head high in the air as he continues ripping apart everything he hates in my apartment in his head. “You’re not raising a baby in an apartment like some sort of welfare parent.”
Running a hand down my face to gain my composure I nod. “I can’t afford a house.”
I can. They don’t know that though. They think I don’t make anything as a photographer and I’m happy to let them think that.
“Which is why your mother and I are giving it to you as a baby gift.”
Most people get diapers or bottles. My parents decide to give me a house I don’t fucking want. Two thumbs up.
“Lots of space to move Sara in,” my mother hums heading towards my windows. “At least you have a beautiful view here. Not as beautiful as the one in Maryland, but not hideous.”
Blowing out a stern breath I declare, “I’m not living with Sara. I’m not marrying Sara. I barely wanna have a baby with Sara. So please drop this notion you have that I’m going to whisk her off her feet and ride off into the sunset with her.”
Quickly my father warns, “Watch your tone.”
“Why not?” My mother turns to me and pouts. “I worry about you.”
She knows. I know she knows even as she stares me in the face right now and pretends not to. A mother knows when she introduces her son to a brother and sister and he eye fucks the brother and can’t be bothered to even look at the sister. What? I never claimed I was that subtle about it. It wasn’t until after getting jumped at 17 that I started to hide it like the plague.
“Because she’s not my type,” I say meeting her gaze until she has to look away.
“It’s not about type son,” my father’s voice drags my eyes to him. “It’s about status. Money. Your reputation. Your responsibility to keep our good name a legacy.”
“So love factors in there between which part?”
“Watch your attitude,” he sternly demands putting his hands in his pocket.
Holding my tongue I fold my arms across my chest. “I have to get ready for work.”
“Speaking of, I found the perfect job for you. High paying. Long hours.”
“And how can I be a good father working long hours?”
“Are you telling me I wasn’t a good father?”
I’m not touching that one.
“Let’s not have a fight now,” my mother crosses the room to be beside my father.
How she chooses to stand by a man who cheats on her and would disown his own blood at the possibility of it being same sex interested is beyond me.
“Not before my spa appointment. And more importantly not before your banquet tonight dear.”
He mumbles something to her and she nods in agreement. As they reach my front door, I plant my hands on the back of my sofa. “I’ll see you for brunch tomorrow before your flight.”
“Please make sure you put on something worth being seen in.” She points to my dark jeans and navy blue button down. “Especially since Sara’s coming.”
Unhappy, I grip the back of my couch tighter, nodding at her. Once she shuts the door behind her, I drop my head forward and let out a sigh, death grip still on the couch.
I can’t drag Luke into this shit. I mean, I can barely live in it without suffocating to death. I have to leave him out of it. I have to just make a clean cut now. No calling him back this time. No more intimate moments. It’s what’s best for him. And I know I’m a selfish dick, but I’m going to do the right thing for him. And for my son. Though, if it counts for anything, I think Luke would make a much better parent than Sara or I ever could.
Chapter 20
Luke
Is it just me or did that feel like goodbye sex? Well you can’t feel it, but did it seem like goodbye?
Tossing in my bed for the millionth time that still smells like him, I throw the sheets off of me. Frustrated from the lack of sleep and awkward ending to one of the best nights of my life, I hop in the shower to start the process of getting ready for work.
After I shave, shower, and have squeezed into my scrubs I head down the stairs to grab a wake up cup of coffee to see Kellar stretched out on the couch.
“You do know you don’t live here anymore right?” I grunt stopping midway down. “Or did you finally take a blow to the head that blocked out that part of your brain.”
“My wife is bitchy. My son is bitchy. Please don’t be bitchy too,” he yawns rolling over onto his stomach.
“Your wife has spent about eight months growing your seed in her belly. She gets a pass.”
“That’s why I’m complaining to you and not her.”
Glad to see someone else as miserable as I feel, I finish traveling down the stairs. “What’s going on?”
Groaning he shuts his eyes. “Maxx is having extreme trouble sleeping and apparently having me in the bed isn’t helping, but she doesn’t like sleeping without me, so it’s I’m fucked if I try to get out of the bed and fucked if I don’t.”
“A Catch 22.”
“I haven’t caught anything.”
Yeah. He’s that bright.
Washing my favorite coffee mug I question, “What’s wrong with the Kid?”
“I had to ground him for getting a D on his English paper.”
“A D?” the bewilderment in my voice is apparent. “Are you serious? That’s like Maxx’s second language.”
“Another reason she’s bitchy. She’s pissed about it.” He sits up and looks over the couch at me. “She chewed him out for almost twenty minutes before he fought back.”
“He fought back?” I start my coffee machine. “That’s...new.”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “You’re telling me. He started yelling and then she started yelling and then I started yelling. Before I knew it he stormed off and shut himself in his room.”
“Hormones?”
“I don’t give a fuck what they are. No one should disrespect their parents like that.” Kellar shakes his head again. “He was out of line. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I’m worried.”
Glancing at my cup that’s filling, I shrug. “Well, it could be his hormones. The chemicals in the brain—”
“No.” He flops back down on the couch. “No medical talk please. Not enough sleep.”
“There’s never enough sleep in the world for you to understand it,” I mutter. Speaking louder as I grab my cup I state, “It could be a girl.”
Kellar shoots back up. “What do you mean it could be a girl?”
“I mean, he’s 16 and his brain is nestled between his legs. If there’s a chick clouding his judgment or encouraging him to act a certain way, that could explain the sudden change too.”
After a moment Kellar lets out a heavy sigh and flops backwards once more. “So basically you’re saying I’m going to have to be a parent and have a talk with him about his behavior.”
Approaching him with my mug I reply, “Precisely.”
He groans and grumbles,
“Fine. But can I at least nap here first? I need some peace and between Maxx’s frantic phone conversations with Tony over the banquet she’s hosting tonight and the Kid’s need to slam every fucking thing he can in a dramatic way, I’m not getting sleep.”
“Go ahead.” I relocate to the recliner.
Kellar rolls over to look up at me suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t have your normal snippy thing going on.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Closer.” He smugly smirks.
Jackass.
“What’s bothering you?” I open my mouth to speak but quickly blow on my coffee instead. “Come on Luke. You’re always expecting to hear our problems, for once, tell me what’s up.”
“Why do people keep saying that?” I lean forward.
“Saying what?”
“That I don’t share my problems.”
“Because you don’t.” When I scowl he shrugs, “You can Death Ray glare me all you want, but it’s the truth. I mean, we come to you and bitch almost every day—”
“Every day some weeks.”
“Because it’s you. You’re the voice of reason. Our own little Jiminy Cricket.”
“I do not appreciate being compared to a grasshopper.”
“A cricket.” He corrects me with another smirk. After receiving another dirty look from me, he asks, “So what’s wrong?”
Crossing my legs I raise my cup to my lips and blow again. “Stuart and I...well we’re...”
“Hooking up. I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve got a radar.”
Prepared to respond I think twice.
It’s weird because I’m fairly certain that he does. Sex radar. Wow. That can’t possibly be real right?
“Anyway, it’s just so...hot and cold. One minute we’re on fire, the next he’s so cold you’d think we were in a goddamn blizzard.” Shaking my head I have a sip of my coffee. “I don’t get it. There’s no consistency and I just...I don’t know what to do.”
“Well he’s not afraid of commitment,” Kellar starts.
