by Anna Martin
He didn’t want to be the guy who had to ask his parent for permission for everything, but it was a weeknight, and his dad worked at his school. And his dad knew where James was. Skipping was not a good idea, especially considering the current political climate.
His dad answered on the third ring. “James?”
“Yeah, hi.” He looked over at Dylan. “I need to stay here tonight.”
There was a long pause, where he could hear breaths on the line. So he hadn’t been hung up on.
“What classes do you have tomorrow?”
“Gym and study period in the morning. Math and then English after lunch.”
“Okay. I’ll write a note excusing you in the morning, but I want you to go to your afternoon classes.”
“That… sounds like a reasonable compromise.”
“I thought so,” his dad said dryly. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
“No problem.”
James turned the phone over in his hands as he looked over at Dylan. “So I have until one tomorrow afternoon. Then I have to go to my math class.”
“Thank you.” Dylan gave him a little smile.
James grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Anytime.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
WHEN STEVE got home from work on Saturday at lunchtime, Mark was in the kitchen.
He’s still here, Steve thought. It was weird that out of everything, finding Mark in his kitchen was the thing to give him the warm fuzzies.
Steve didn’t often go into the office on a Saturday, but he had one client who couldn’t get out of her retail job during the week to come sign papers, so he’d gone in for a few hours to meet with her. She was a sweet client, so he didn’t mind.
First thing that morning had been a different story. Steve had set his alarm early, just in case, and the extra half hour had been used very productively. There wasn’t time for slow, easy sex, but he’d been more than happy with the quick and dirty blow job Mark had given him before slapping him on the ass and sending him to the shower.
Steve had very reluctantly left Mark snoozing in his bed.
Now, Mark wasn’t just hanging out in the kitchen; he had his shirt rolled up to the elbows and he was washing dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Steve said. “We do have a dishwasher.”
Mark shrugged. “It only takes a few minutes.”
Steve walked over and wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist from behind, resting his cheek between Mark’s shoulders.
“How was work?” Mark asked.
“Not bad. Glad to be done, though.”
It was a new thing they were trying out, the compromise of planning which house everyone was going to be sleeping at. James, in particular, had been very vocal that he didn’t want to overhear anyone having sex. Ever. Under any circumstances.
Mostly Dylan liked it when James stayed in his room; they’d made a little nest-type sanctuary up in the attic where they closed the door against the outside world and hunkered down together. When Steve had asked Dylan about it, he’d shrugged and blushed, which was usually a good indication that it was something that meant a lot to him.
Steve didn’t push for details.
On Friday night, though, Frankie and her boyfriend plus Dylan and James all decided to go to the same party, so it made sense for them to go back to Mark’s house together. It meant Steve could bust out some of his bondage gear and find out how deep Mark’s kinky streak actually ran. He was pretty pleased with the results so far.
“Do you want to get changed before we head out?” Mark asked. He pulled the plug from the sink, dried his hands, and rolled the sleeves of his dark denim shirt back down.
“Yeah. It won’t take a minute, though. I know what I’m wearing.”
“Okay.”
“You’re still welcome to come watch me get changed, though.”
Mark laughed at that. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”
Steve had already picked out his clothes for the show earlier in the week. Frankie’s show was opening at the local community theater, and she’d been insistent that both Steve and Dylan were invited.
Steve was not going to be the one to let her down.
Even if it meant sitting through three hours of tap dancing in community musical theater.
Steve was a strong man. He was sure he could handle it.
“You look hot,” Mark said as Steve zipped his fly.
“Thanks.” Steve laughed.
“Do we need to pick the kids up on our way?”
Steve stopped short. “It’s still weird, isn’t it? Are we gonna admit that?”
“It’s weird.” Mark shrugged. “I think it’s weirder for them than it is for us. No teenager wants to think about their parent dating. I had a long conversation with James a few nights ago reassuring him that we weren’t going to get married and make him and Dylan brothers.”
“You reassured him about that, huh?” Steve asked, sitting down on the bed next to Mark.
Mark took Steve’s hand and squeezed. “Well, yeah. Sorry, I probably should have talked to you first. But James was getting really freaked out….”
“It’s okay.” Steve knew this conversation was probably coming. “Is that how you feel?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get married again, no. That might change some day. I’m not opposed to it on a deep personal level or anything. I just can’t see that happening now, at this point in my life.”
Mark turned Steve’s hand over, tracing the lines of his palm.
“I don’t want to get married either, for what it’s worth,” Steve said, nudging his shoulder against Mark’s. “At one point in my life, I was desperate for that, to meet someone and settle down to have a family.”
“You told me.”
“Yeah. I’m happy with how it all turned out, though.”
“Good. Me too.”
Steve smiled and tipped his head, giving Mark the perfect angle to kiss him softly. They were getting better at this, balancing the romantic with the driving need to fuck each other senseless.
“No,” Mark said, slapping Steve’s hand away when Steve inched it up his thigh. “We need to go.”
Steve was laughing as Mark pulled him to his feet and delivered a stinging slap on the ass to get him moving.
“I’m going. I’m going.”
THEY ARRIVED at the theater in plenty of time, though judging by the crowd outside, there were either a lot of fans of 42nd Street in Forest Heights or a lot of people had relatives in the cast.
“I’ll go in and pick up the tickets,” Mark said.
“Sure. Give me a minute. I’ll park and then meet you in the lobby.”
Mark nodded, then leaned over and quickly kissed Steve’s cheek. This casual public affection was another new thing they were trying. Steve liked it more than he thought he would.
The parking lot next to the theater wasn’t too full, and he purposefully found a space close to the stage door. He quickly gathered the flowers he’d bought earlier in the day from the trunk of the Jeep and jogged around the back of the building.
A nice lady with a clipboard stopped him from actually going backstage. That was fine; he didn’t need to be there.
“Could you please deliver these to Frankie Henderson?” he asked.
“Frankie…. Frankie….” She ran her pen down a list of names.
“Frances?”
“Chorus?”
“I think so.”
“Got her,” the lady said with a sharp nod. “I’ll get these sent to her now.”
“Thank you.”
Steve wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Mark to know he was sending Frankie opening-night flowers. Frankie had turned out to be the peacemaker when they were all ready to sit down and talk like adults. Steve was still impressed at her level of maturity. He wanted her to know she was appreciated.
By the time he got to the lobby, Dylan and James were
already there, bickering over candy choices, and Karen was hovering with a man Steve assumed was her partner.
“Okay?” Mark asked as Steve walked over.
“Yeah.”
“We have plenty of time. I gave the boys their tickets so we can go in whenever you’re ready.”
“Did we get seats together?”
Mark grinned. “It’s the strangest thing…. No. Apparently due to some mix-up at the box office, we have three pairs of tickets in different areas of the auditorium.”
“Your daughter is a very clever young woman,” Steve murmured as Mark rested his hand on Steve’s lower back, gently guiding him up the stairs.
“I know,” he said, still smiling.
Steve didn’t hate the following three hours nearly as much as he thought he would. It was a long time since he’d seen anything at the theater, and he felt thoroughly chastened by the quality of the performances, which were far beyond what he was expecting. Frankie had been easy to spot, even with her hair swept into a 1930’s up-do. Being a redhead made her stand out from the other chorus girls.
After the show, they met James and Dylan back in the foyer.
“Where’s your mom?” Mark said, frowning at James.
“She went backstage to see Frankie. Then she’s heading out.”
“Oh.”
Steve thought that one word was particularly loaded, but he wasn’t going to get into any kind of discussion about Mark’s ex-wife and her parenting style. Especially not in front of James.
“Are we going for dinner?” Steve asked, attempting to change the subject.
Dylan stared at him like he’d grown another head. “What, all of us together?”
“Why not? We should take Frankie out to celebrate.”
Mark looked over with barely constrained laughter, like he was reading both James and Dylan’s minds, and they were screaming at Steve that he was fucking crazy.
James broke first, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pressed his face against Dylan’s arm. A moment later Mark was laughing too, and Steve could tell Dylan was working hard to keep it in.
Dylan threw his arm around James’s shoulders as they headed out of the theater, and Steve let Mark rest his hand on Steve’s lower back.
“A great big happy family dinner,” Mark murmured, too low for the boys to overhear. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Epilogue
Four years later
JAMES WAS ready to sleep for a week. Maybe more than a week. Maybe more like a month. He slowly gathered all his things into his backpack and flexed his fingers; they were aching from all the writing he’d been doing over the past three hours.
But it was done. His last exam, possibly forever, and he was fairly confident he’d aced it.
James grabbed his baseball cap and pulled it on, hopefully disguising his unwashed hair from the outside world. He shouldered his backpack and nodded his thanks to the TA at the front of the room.
It was a little after midday, but James was strangely not hungry. He’d been living on pizza and coffee and occasionally an apple for the past couple of weeks, even though he knew the lack of a balanced diet was not helping him study and definitely made him more sluggish in the long run.
The air outside was almost uncomfortably warm, and James wished he hadn’t caught a ride in with Anthony that morning. Anthony was going to be at the library for at least another twelve hours. His last exam wasn’t until Friday.
It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, walking the few blocks back to the condo James had shared with Anthony for the past three years. They’d moved in after their freshman year in the dorms, both agreeing that having their own bedrooms was a requirement if they were going to continue living together. Anthony was like a brother. That didn’t mean James wanted to share a bedroom with him.
They’d lucked out when Anthony’s dad offered to buy a condo—a long-term investment—close to the main campus. Anthony had only agreed to it if James signed a three-year rental agreement, meaning Anthony couldn’t kick James out if he found a girlfriend he wanted to live with more than James. It was a sweet gesture, one that James appreciated. There was no way his dad would have been able to return the favor if the situation was reversed.
James looked up, squinting in the sunlight when he heard his name called. For a second he couldn’t figure out where the call had come from, and then he spotted Dylan standing next to his truck.
Letting out a very unmanly whoop of joy, James found the energy to run and throw himself into Dylan’s arms.
“You’re here,” he murmured against Dylan’s neck. “You’re really here.”
“I really am.” Dylan squeezed him tighter.
“I’m so happy to see you.”
Dylan had broadened out even more in the past few years. James ran his hands over Dylan’s strong back and shoulders, not hiding how much he loved the muscle he found there. Dylan’s body was earned on the job, not in some air-conditioned gym—the same job that gave him strong hands with their scars and callouses.
James gently rubbed their cheeks together, loving the way Dylan’s heavier beard prickled against his own.
It only took the slightest angling of James’s head to draw Dylan into a kiss. Wrapping his hand around the back of James’s neck, Dylan held him steady and gently moved their lips together. Dylan had a way of making even the sweetest of kisses a promise of something more. The deep, longing ache in James’s stomach throbbed invitingly.
Dylan gently set him back down again and righted James’s baseball cap before rubbing at his bottom lip. “Want a ride home?”
“Oh God. Yes. Please.”
Dylan silently opened the passenger side door for him. James slipped into the Toyota’s icy cold air-conditioned interior and almost whimpered in pleasure.
“How are the dads?” he asked as Dylan pulled into the flow of traffic, heading for the apartment he’d spent a fair amount of time in too.
“They’re good. They send their love.”
“Aww. I need to call my dad. I haven’t spoken to him in ages.”
“He did mention that. Asked if I could use my influence to get you to call home.”
James rolled his eyes. “He’s being melodramatic again.”
“Oh, definitely. I have four days off, by the way. I can stay, if you want me to.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I want you to. How did you arrange that?”
“I do get vacation time, James,” Dylan said, teasing. “I asked for it when you told me when your exams were finished.”
“You’re the best boyfriend in the whole world.”
Dylan smirked at him. “I know.”
James tipped his head back and let his eyes drift closed as Dylan navigated traffic to the secret spot where he could always find a parking space. It was like magic, or something. He had a knack for it.
Without opening his eyes, James thumbed open his phone. “Siri, remind me to call my dad later.”
“Reminder to call Dad set,” she chirped back.
Dylan snorted in amusement. James ignored him.
“Siri, remind me to text Frankie and tell her to break stuff at her show thing.”
“Reminder to text Frankie set.”
The dads, as they were now collectively known, hadn’t really progressed in their relationship much from where they’d been when it all started. Mark still lived in the house he’d raised James and Frankie in, not wanting to move out of their family home. Steve didn’t want to sell his big, empty house either, but according to Dylan, he spent more nights with Mark than he did at his own house. They’d found their own version of comfortable, one where they were openly out and together, but not living together full-time. It seemed to suit them just fine.
For all of James’s fears about the dads deciding to become husbands and putting him and Dylan in a truly awkward stepbrother situation, they hadn’t even made any hints in that direction. After four years, James was almost convinced they never
would.
He wasn’t sure if it was because both Mark and Steve were stubborn middle-aged men who were set in their ways, or if they really wanted Dylan and James to have the opportunity to let their relationship grow in whatever direction it wanted to go. Maybe it was a combination of both.
James was only aware that Dylan had parked when Dylan opened the door for him again, took James’s backpack from his lap, and shouldered it.
“Come on,” he said gently.
James let Dylan guide him upstairs, into the apartment—Dylan had his own key—and into the bathroom where Dylan stripped off James’s clothes and nudged him into the shower. He could apparently interpret James’s wild gesturing to mean that James wanted Dylan to join him. Not for sex—jeez, he didn’t have the energy for that right now. No, just for a warm, wet cuddle.
Wait, that sounded like sex.
Whatever. James was exhausted.
He leaned into Dylan’s embrace as Dylan vigorously shampooed James’s hair, one of the few pampering things that James secretly loved. While the shampoo rinsed, Dylan soaped up the rest of James’s body, digging in under his arms to make him squirm and spending a little too long working the suds into James’s lower back and ass.
James whimpered when Dylan shut the water off and set about drying James off too. He wasn’t so tired that he couldn’t have done any of it himself, but it was nice to just stand and be, and let Dylan take care of him for a while.
“You need a shave,” Dylan murmured.
“So do you.”
Since Anthony wasn’t around, James happily walked to his bedroom butt naked. To be fair, he often wandered around butt naked even when Anthony was home, but Dylan didn’t. He was adorably modest about his tight ass and monster cock. If James had a body like Dylan’s, he’d probably never put clothes on. It was probably a good thing he didn’t.
“You want clothes?” Dylan asked.
“It depends. What activity did you have in mind?”
“A nap,” Dylan said, clearly amused.
“Then, yeah.”
Clean clothes hadn’t lived in James’s dresser for a really long time, but he definitely could identify his clean clothes pile from his dirty clothes pile, so it wasn’t too difficult to find clean boxers and a T-shirt. His sheets could probably do with being washed, but that could wait. For now, James had his gorgeous boyfriend who wanted to take an early afternoon nap.
