by Daryl Banner
“Come for me.”
I couldn’t handle it. His beautiful face over mine. His voice, dripping with sex and strength. His moving body. His cock inside me, flexing with its imminent orgasm.
I came right then, exploding between our bodies. The release I experienced sent a shockwave of rapture down to my toes and up to the tips of my hair.
How could I possibly describe it?
It was like the satisfying last squeeze of a warm washcloth, water dripping from its clutches.
When a balloon is filled just one breath too much and bursts.
The last tap of an egg on the edge of a pan, its contents spilled and crackling in the heat.
I was still coming when Lucas let out a grunt over my face and spilled inside me, rocketing me straight into a whole new wave of pleasure. His thrusting slowed to a gentle humping as he enjoyed every second of his own release, savoring how it felt, his eyes rocked back and his hold on me turning tender.
Then his eyes met mine and he went in for a kiss. I clutched him tightly, my legs wrapping around his hips and holding him against my body as our lips caressed one another’s. He was still inside me even when our kissing ended.
He slid out of me, pulled off his condom, tied it off, and let it drop to the floor. Then his body landed on the bed next to mine, and we both stared at the ceiling in wonder.
“Do you feel it?” he murmured thoughtfully.
Every muscle in my body felt like soup. “Feel what?”
“Different.”
Yes, I did feel it. I felt like everything had changed. It wasn’t just because I’d had my first orgasm in weeks. Something between us felt like it snapped in place, something that I was uncertain of since the day we met.
“I don’t know,” I answered back, “but right now, I really want to wring out a washcloth, pop a balloon, and eat some eggs.”
Lucas turned his face to me. “Huh?”
I sat up, invigorated. “We never ate after the concert. Are you as starved as I am right now?”
He ran a hand down his abs, then grinned. “Nothing like sex to work up an appetite.” Then he nodded toward my chest. “Better clean you up first, though.”
I glanced down. I had gotten so happy, I almost forgot I came. “Shower first,” I agreed. “Wanna join?”
He leapt off the bed with my hand in his. Into the bathroom we tumbled, and under the hot water that poured over our heads, Lucas pinned me to the shower wall and made love to my mouth.
Yes.
Something definitely had changed.
Something significant. Something real. Something as tangible as his firm, plush lips as they pressed against mine, steam swirling around our bodies in that shower.
Our mouths pulled apart, and he stared into my eyes as the water ran down our faces.
“Are we still two seriously twisted-up, horny motherfuckers?” he asked me, his deep voice bouncing around the bathroom.
My hands were on his hips, holding them against mine. Even our cocks were pressed together. I had a suspicion that a round two wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities.
“If you have to ask that,” I murmured back, “then I think the question answers itself.”
He smiled, then put another kiss on my lips.
Before we went back to bed to do whatever it was we wanted to do—play around some more, tease each other, kiss until we couldn’t feel our lips, or just sleep while embraced in each other’s arms—I fulfilled my promise in the kitchen. I cooked us up some eggs, naked, while Lucas sat on the counter and watched me, his legs dangling. Then we ate together, neither of us being able to wipe away the stupid smiles spread over our faces.
That was the night we became inseparable.
Chapter 22
LUCKY
When James came home from work on Friday, he found me sitting under the tree at the front of the house with my sketchpad in my lap. He pulled into the garage, then left the door open and came to meet me by the tree. As he sat down on the grass next to me, he glanced back at the flowerbed. “You’ve been working,” he noted with an appreciative smile, then leaned into me to get a peek of my sketch. “What in the hell is that? Some kind of monster?”
“You can say I have a thing for monsters,” I admitted. “Beasts. Dragons. Behemoths. I just love sketching ugly-ass monsters.”
“They’re beautiful. Even with the six eyes and the long forked tongues and the … what’s that?”
“A dick.”
He tilted his head and squinted.
I let him off the hook with a chuckle. “Just messing with you. An antler, maybe. Or a horn. Whatever you want it to be, I guess.”
James pinched my chin and pulled my face toward his, then planted his lips on mine. When he pulled back, he looked me in the eyes and said something rather unexpected. “I don’t want to hide this anymore.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying I want my friends to know. All of them. And …” He shrugged and shook his head. “I realize that means subsequently, my family will find out. But I don’t care. I mean, I do care what they think, but if they just met you and … and saw you …”
“What are you going to tell them?” I asked.
James shrugged. “That I met someone.” He smiled. “Simple as that.”
“Simple as that, huh?”
“And they’ll get to meet you and see for themselves what a great guy you are.”
I furrowed my brow. “Meet them? How? When?”
“At my mother’s infamous Saturday dinner.” He winced after that as he met my eyes. “Hope you don’t mind if I bring you.”
I was surprised by the news to say the very least. I was open to any excuse to get out of the house, but meeting his family? All of his friends knowing? I wasn’t sure yet what to make of all of it.
Maybe the happiness I felt between us was a private one, a comfort I felt and enjoyed with James—and James alone. I never considered the idea of his whole world opening up to mine.
Especially when I had no one to introduce James to in return.
All I had was me.
“I take it you got a text from your mother today at work.”
James bit his lip, then glanced down and ran his hand along the grass. “Yeah,” he finally confessed.
“And you tossed it around in your head, the idea of whether you should cancel again—like you did the weekend we first met—and then you decided not to.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But that left you with a difficult choice: either leave me here at your house while you go and eat Mom’s meatloaf, or bring me along with you for the fun.”
“Are you psychic?”
“And since you couldn’t bear to leave me here—because I’m so important to you—you decided to invite me to Saturday dinner.”
“You’re a mind-reader.”
“But inviting me also means you’ll have to explain me. Which means your mother needs to learn about the guy you picked up off the street—”
“Well, I mean …”
“—which ‘subsequently’—See? I’m using your word—means that your friends will have to be told, including Quinton, your brother-in-law’s brother.” I gave him a superior smirk. “Did I get it all right? Or is there something I’m missing?”
James pressed his lips together.
I slapped shut my sketchpad, then faced him. “Sounds like we’re going to your parents’ house tomorrow for dinner.”
James smiled, his face flushed red. Then, entirely out of things to say—or perhaps because I’d said it all already—he thrust his lips onto mine, tackling me to the grass.
* * *
Saturday came quicker than I expected.
The drive over was long and full of James’s incessant priming. He had to warn me about everyone in his family, one at a time. His sister was religious, but attended a nondenominational church that had a very inclusive, gay-loving, God-is-good approach to life. Her husband
was ridiculously hot, but in a suit-and-tie-wearing politician kind of way, which I found difficult to picture. Quinton was more boy-next-door, but had the big ego of someone with his brother’s looks. James’s father was quiet and sweet, always having something nice to say about everything and anything. Of course, I had briefly met James’s mother—if seeing her through the slats of James’s sliding closet door counted—but he still felt the need to tell me ten stories of how overbearing or smothering or annoying she can be when she got excited.
And before he could finish the tenth story about his mother, we were sitting in their driveway, James staring ahead at the house like he was seconds away from shitting an iron brick.
“It’ll be fine,” I told him. “Look. You dressed me up all snazzy. I look like a door-to-door salesman.”
He eyed my black polo and jeans. “If you were a door-to-door salesman, I would literally buy a clod of mud off your shoe before turning you away with my ‘no solicitors’ sign.”
“Your mother’s gonna fall the fuck in love with me.”
“Language.”
“What?” I gave his shoulder a shove. “Are we back at Alberto’s or something? Gonna pull me by the ear to the principal’s office?”
He eyed me hard. “Lucas.”
“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll quit teasing you.” I let out a little chuckle, then gave his thigh a pat. “I know you’re nervous as shit.”
“Language.”
“Nervous as fuck,” I corrected myself. “Let’s just get inside and break the ice, alright? I’m starved. You must have said ‘herb-roasted chicken’, like, twenty-two times on the car ride here.”
“Alright.” He reached for the car door.
“One more thing before we go in.”
James stopped and turned back to me. “What—?”
He could barely get the word out before my mouth covered his. His eyes shut as the kiss consumed him, taking away all his worries for that one brief moment. I had hoped it was enough to kill his anxieties for good. He pulled away, blinking.
“Now we’re ready,” I said.
James nodded his agreement, flashed a tiny smile of thanks, then got out of the car.
We barely reached the door when it swung open and James’s mother stood there in a white blouse with pink leggings. “Well, hello there, you two!” She planted a kiss quickly on James’s cheek, then faced me and took me in. Judging from the way her eyes sort of locked on me, she was taking me all the way in. “And you must be Lucas. Goodness gracious.”
I held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to—”
She grabbed me and pulled me in for a hug, cutting off my greeting. Her hug was so damned tight, it was like she’d known me my whole life. It squeezed my lungs empty.
She pulled away. “We’re happy to have you, Lucas! A friend of James’s is a friend of the family. You just ask Quinton when you get inside, he’ll tell you.”
“Thank you for having me over, Mrs. McKinney.”
“Just call me Grace.” She shot a wink at James, then gestured into the house. “Go on, get inside! Smell what I’ve been cooking all dang day! Get yourself hungry!”
“Oh, I’m plenty hungry, ma’am,” I returned with a smile.
When I passed by her and stepped into the house, I felt a very strange and untimely urge to cry. Yeah, seriously. Like a little kid who’d just gotten the top item on his Christmas list scribbled out in alternating colors of crayon. There was something about the way James’s mother squeezed me right at the door first thing, then pulled me into her house filled with the aroma of a dinner that had been in the making all day. This house was filled with a warmth I didn’t think my own even enjoyed, not since I was a little kid and my parents were actually happy.
What was it about that house that made me feel completely comfortable in an instant?
The front hallway opened to a dining room on the right and a study on the left. Everything was so brightly lit, I wondered if any of the windows even had curtains or blinds at all. The walls were all browns and oranges and reds, giving the whole house a warm, autumnal atmosphere. Ahead, the hall opened into a living room that was filled with laughter and voices. I didn’t even need James to point out who was who; his descriptions were remarkably spot-on. I even knew which brother was Quinton and which one was the one married to his sister Jules.
All their chatter died as they turned, curious who the new face was. I was too stuck in my own head to answer. I only stared ghoulishly back, my lips parted and nothing at all coming out.
James appeared at my side. “Hey, guys,” he greeted them all, then threw an arm around my waist, startling me. “This is Lucas.”
“Lukey-Lukey-Luke,” called out the one I took to be James’s casino-going friend with the coffee shop. He hopped off the couch and crossed the room to give me a hearty handshake. “Quinton. Nice to meet you!” He threw James a look—which I couldn’t quite explain—then pointed back at the couple on the couch. “That is Jules, James’s big sis. And that’s her hubby—my big bro Connor. James’s dad Lloyd, right over yonder,” he added, pointing at the man in the recliner with the TV remote, who gave me a wave and a cheery smile from his seat. “He won’t get up from that chair until there’s food on the table.”
“That’s right,” the dad, Lloyd, agreed with a pat on his round belly, which echoed back like a drum.
“Well, it’s about time to get up, then!” cried out Grace, James’s mother, as she swooped into the room. “Dinner’s ready! Grab your plates, everyone! It’s buffet style in the kitchen!”
The room exploded into action as everyone got up and moved to the dining room to grab their plates. I simply followed behind James, letting him lead the way with the noise of the TV still blaring at our backs from whatever Lloyd was watching.
Jules and her husband Connor chatted on and on about funny things that were going on at her office, which made everyone laugh as we slowly moved along the counter serving ourselves. I felt like I was at some fancy resort buffet, except it was located in a homey kitchen. There were so many foods to choose from with no apparent theme: mashed potatoes, green beans, mac and cheese, brisket, herb-roasted chicken (which I, of course, helped myself to), candied carrots, stuffing, kale salad, Caesar salad, and baked beans with bits of bacon. There was no way I could fit a little bit of everything on my plate; I had to make tough choices.
When we sat down, I almost made the mistake of diving right into my food before realizing everyone was reaching for everyone else’s hand. James sat to my left, and Quinton sat to my right, with Connor and Jules across from us, and Grace and Lloyd at either head of the table. With all our hands clasped, Jules led us in a quick prayer, our heads bowed, after which she said, “Grace! Now let’s stuff our faces,” and made the table chuckle.
Then while I filled my mouth with some of the tastiest dinner I’ve ever had, my ears were filled with chatter, laughter, and tons of stories.
The lively environment of James’s family was unlike anything I experienced back at home. My father demanded silence during every meal. Even at friend’s houses, asking for someone to pass the bread was the rudest thing ever.
Silence was golden.
Silence was not golden at Grace and Lloyd’s, by far. In fact, the second any semblance of a silence was possible, someone else had something to say, or a joke to make, or a story to share, and the whole table was fully invested, listening and engaging between their bites of chicken and brisket and mashed potato.
I had nothing to say, preferring to drown in everyone else’s stories and getting to know James’s family. James told me that he had warned his family that things were new between us and to not grill me too much. He hoped that would help avoid their asking anything that might be too difficult to answer truthfully without giving them the wrong idea.
You know, that James picked me up right off the streets three weeks ago and asked me to move in after only knowing me for two whole days.
I was the first one to finish
my plate. James’s mother noticed at once. “Go help yourself to seconds!” Grace called out. “I’ve got enough in there to feed all of you ten times over!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. “Thank you, Grace.”
When I stood in the kitchen filling my plate up a second time, the conversation fired right back up in the dining room. My ears picked up the words, “Why the heck have you been hiding that gorgeous young man from us?” in a lowered voice that I could still totally hear from his mother. I heard Quinton throw in, “Yeah, James. I would say my ego wasn’t bruised by the fact that you confided in Duncan before me, but you know, hos before bros or something.” “Hush, hush, keep your voice down,” scolded Grace before Lloyd let out a hearty laugh at the other end of the table.
I returned to a considerably muted table as I sat with my plate of seconds, then dove right in.
And then the questions came. “So how’d you two meet?” Jules asked gently after a sip of her tea.
Contrary to one minute ago, the whole table sat in perfectly silent anticipation of my answer. Only the tiny sounds of chewing and utensils scraping plates filled the room.
I glanced James’s way, catching sight of his nervous eyes, then answered, “I guess you can say it was a chance meeting.”
James’s eyes lit up, then he swallowed and said, “Total luck.”
Jules glanced back and forth between us. “So you met down at the casinos near the beach, right?”
“We hit it off,” James picked up, his eyes still on me. “He is a bit of a legend at pinball.”
“Hey, you didn’t do too bad yourself,” I returned. “I mean, for a first-timer who had no idea how to play.”
“I played just fine!” he argued with half a laugh.
“After I showed you how.” The table broke into laughter as everyone paid witness to our silly back-and-forth banter.
I felt like a completely different person, talking so boldly and openly in front of a family I just met to a man I wholeheartedly trusted.
“So where do you live?” asked Jules. “Which corner of Little Water are you from? Or are you from farther out?”
