Daddy Issues

by Seth King

“Eliot, listen to you. You want to debut this thing at a family reunion?”

  “I mean, when you put it that way…”

  “I want that, too. Already. But more than that, I want to protect this. And I don’t think it’s in our best interest to make any rash decisions.”

  “Hmmmm,” I say. “Sensible. As usual.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” he smiles.

  “God, I wonder what my family’s reaction would be, though.”

  “You mean, after they roasted me over an open fire?”

  “Shut up,” I laugh. “Gracie is awesome, and smokes weed every day. I doubt she’d even give a shit. Her mom, my Aunt Susan, is in her own little world, too, and would probably just roll her eyes and get on with her day. The men, though…obviously that’d be a little different.” I gulp. “What about your family?”

  “It’s just my older sister and my mom. We…don’t really talk about my life. They’re okay with it by now, but at the same time, they don’t ask for details. So that would never be an issue.”

  “Aw. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. They’re from a different time. You’re all I need right now, anyway.”

  I feel myself relax against him.

  Night comes, and then we do the most dangerous thing of all: we start to fall asleep together, knowing full well that if anyone somehow made it into the room, both of our lives would go up in flames. But at this point, the flames would be worth everything.

  “Eliot?” he asks when I am near sleep.

  “Mhm?”

  “I’m glad I know you. I just want you to know that.”

  I don’t have to respond and tell him how I feel, though. He already knows.

  Robert Glazer

  When I wake the next morning, my arm is under Eliot in a somewhat painful position. But he’s still in my arms, and I just breathe in the scent of his hair for a moment.

  Ahh, I just woke up with Eliot in my arms, this is really happening…

  I wait to feel shame. I wait to feel like I should run from him, screaming and horrified. But I feel none of those things. Instead I just let myself feel what this is: two men, waking up in a bed together. Enjoying each other. Celebrating each other.

  And what a guy he is to celebrate. I reach around with my other hand and start caressing his nipples, and my libido springs up like a flag. God, he’s so perfect. I look down at his plump ass, with just a tuft of reddish hair at the top of his crack. I had my tongue on that hole just a few days ago, and yet today I want to do so much more…

  I was reluctant yesterday, I’ll admit that. But being with him is so perfect, and my reticence is melting away. I am more addicted all the time.

  I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like for this to happen every day. Anybody would be so lucky to have him, and he has no idea. He’s clueless to his own magic. If I had this in my bed, I’d never have another worry again. What would be there to worry about when this person belonged to you, and you belonged to them? Sure, there would be issues. But what couple doesn’t have issues? I know an opportunity when I see one.

  I can’t control myself anymore. I reach down and sigh as I paw at his ass. His cock is already half-hard. He groans in his sleep, and that’s when the idea comes to me – I want him to wake up to a blowjob. I want him to know how delicious life would be with me. I want to show him. I want his first sight of the day to be his dick in my mouth.

  I pull my arm out from under him, then slink my body around and rest at his side. In one movement, I swallow his tip into my mouth as I admire his muscular chest and his sharp jawline. God, to wake up to this every morning…

  He moans and opens his eyes. He peers down at me, then his eyes take on this quality like he’s half sleeping, half starving.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Fuck. Yes. I’ve never had this before. Keep going. Keep going while I wake up. Damn, this sure beats an alarm…”

  I start pumping him with one hand as he hardens inside my throat. He has a unique smell and taste, very musky, like the fine layer of sweat you get on a day that’s warm, but not too hot. My body reacts to it immediately, and soon I’m just as hard as he is.

  I groan as I take him deeper and deeper. His balls are swollen, probably from all the foreplay, and his back is already arching. I plunge him all the way down and savor the salty taste of his precum, but when his legs stiffen, I rethink it.

  I don’t want him to cum. I want us to make love. Yesterday was perfect, and this would be a good time to make things official between us in that way.

  I want to fuck Eliot Prince.

  “Ahhh,” he moans.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This is just too perfect. I don’t want it to end. This is what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Who said it had to end, then?”

  He groans again. Gently I roll him onto his stomach and slide up his body so I’m whispering in his ear with my cock against his ass.

  “Eliot,” I whisper. “Please don’t come yet.”

  “Why?” he whines, writhing under me.

  “Because it’s time. Before we start our day, I want to fuck you.”

  Eliot Prince

  “Are you sure?” I ask, my eyes wide. Then I sigh. “God, if the sex is good, and it makes me like you more, or maybe even fall for you, we wouldn’t be able to walk back from that…”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  But I bite my lip. “Wait, there are other things, too. Your dick is the size of a forearm. Will that even fit inside me?”

  “Let’s find out. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone, Eliot.”

  I giggle a little.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Why are you uncut, by the way? It’s rare for an American.”

  “Because I’m not American,” he smiles. “Well, I was born here, but my family is Catalan by way of Argentina, and Europeans were never really huge on the whole circumcision thing...”

  “Okay, you lost me. Just fuck me, okay?”

  I take a quick shower to make sure things are okay, and they are. When I return, I drop all pretense and just let my towel fall to the floor.

  “What?” I ask, since his eyes never seem to leave me, or my body. “Why are you always looking at me like that?”

  “Because you demand the attention. You’re stunning. Now get on this bed and let me fuck you, babe.”

  I gasp and lean in, and that’s when our lips explode into each other’s. In this moment we are not two bodies, we are not two ages, we are not two different sets of circumstances. We are two souls merging, even for this moment, as one. We are like twins.

  I take the deepest of breaths and try to get myself ready. He rests his tip against me.

  “Ready?” he asks. I nod, but I don’t think I am.

  “Wait,” I say. “What if my mom walks in, and you’re fucking her son…”

  “Eliot! Jesus! Are you trying to ruin this?”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m just a worrier. Hold on, let me take a breath…”

  I try to prepare. It doesn’t matter, though. I feel his tip enter me, and I cry out. I lean all the way back and suck in some more air.

  He settles in a little. And then the feeling comes – a deep, guttural pleasure that stills my whole body. Is this what females feel when they’re penetrated?

  “Wait a second,” I whisper, and he just stays there, halfway inside me, rubbing my nipples and leaning down and kissing my stomach. I never imagined I’d be brave enough to try what I’ve been watching in my gay porn movies all these years…

  Inch by inch, I take him inside me. It burns with each new thrust, but after the burn I am rewarded with the best feeling I’ve ever experienced – it’s like being filled and being warmed at the same time, touching every nerve ending, igniting every fire. My friend Anisha once told me about a guy whose dick was so fat, he could make her orgasm just by sticking it in, because his girth meant that her G spot was touched every si
ngle time. Is this similar? Is Robert the gay version of that guy?

  “How does this even work?” I ask, my voice pained, and he laughs.

  “Trust me, there’s usually some maneuvering involved. But never like this. You’re the tightest guy I’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered, or yell at you for causing such pain.”

  “Pain?” he asks. “Should I stop?”

  “God, no,” I ask, slapping my hands across the back of his legs. “I meant…no, you know what I meant. The good kind of pain. Keep going.”

  He pumps his hips a little. I cry out again, but it’s better this time, easier. His eyes roll back into his head, and it makes me moan again.

  Soon I don’t even recognize the sounds I am making; I just know I am shouting and moaning and making a ruckus. But I love it. I have never, in my life, given up control like this, and it feels like a revolution.

  “Fuck me,” I breathe. “Fuck me harder.”

  “You got it,” he says, and then he lifts my hips a little, pauses, then plunges himself in until I feel him deep in my abdomen. Oh, my God…

  The way he moves his hips, the way he touches my body, the way he looks into my eyes with such authority and power and control – all of it is immediately better than anything I’ve ever had in my life. Sex was never sex until this. Living wasn’t living until now – that is how alive I feel.

  I look around, and our eyes meet, and then meld together. I’ve never felt connected like this with anyone. Ever. Nothing outside this room matters, or even exists. Not while he is inside me like this, in every sense.

  I cry out, too stimulated to continue. Then I come, my body rocking and rolling, and he screams into my hair as he comes, too, his dick throbbing and twitching inside me.

  That wasn’t sex. That was art.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he sighs when we’re done, and I shake from head to toe and then look away. “What?” he asks.

  “Nobody’s ever spoken to me like this, or treated me like this. Sorry. Just trying to get used to it.”

  “Well it’s well-deserved.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course! All I can do is be honest. Let me spend the day with you,” he says.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You won’t be able to escape me, actually. Wherever you go, there I’ll be…”

  And for the first time, I don’t object.

  In fact, I am done objecting.

  To any of this.

  For good.

  ~

  We make love twice more through the early afternoon, since it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt and I can’t get enough. Finally I pull myself away so I can make an appearance around my family before evening. Since our day was sweaty and messy, I decide to take a quick shower in my room. I head back, singing and whistling to myself all the while.

  But just as I undress again, I stop dead and turn back around. There is a Post-It stuck to the back of the door – on the inside of the door. It couldn’t have been David – unless he somehow did it while he was still here? Either way, the handwriting doesn’t look like his – I don’t think it does, at least.

  My mouth goes drier than a bad meatloaf as I walk up and read the handwritten message:

  I know what you did in that canoe

  David Friedman

  For the thousandth time, I check Eliot’s Facebook account. And for the thousandth time, there is no update, no hint that Eliot is getting together with Robert.

  Rationally, I know there won’t be some big relationship announcement. But something in the back of my mind wants to see a restaurant check-in, a tagged photo, something. I need to see this to make it seem real. There hasn’t been anything yet, but there will be. I know there will. And if he doesn’t leave a hint, I’ll hint everyone for him. I am not too proud to get down and dirty.

  When I came on that stupid fucking trip, I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew for sure was that I still loved him. Or still wanted him, at least, which is probably the same thing. There’s always been a kind of magic around Eliot Prince, a sort of glow, like sidewalks after a rain shower at night. When we met, I was obsessed from the first day – he was so insouciant, so devil-may-care. A real dick magnet. He didn’t resist me, necessarily, I just knew he had other shit going on in his life – and it was really sexy. When I finally got him into a relationship, I thought I had him right where I wanted him. But I didn’t. My ex-boyfriend kept coming around, and our sex had always been dynamite – so I fucked him. Big whoop. I’m not really sorry I did it. I’m just mad it had to come out the way it did. (Eliot never found out it was my ex-boyfriend I’d actually cheated with, and I’m not going to tell him, either.)

  In the beginning I thought I was fine. Only after I cheated did I realize what I’d lost. My mom told me to beg for him back, and it didn’t work. Nothing worked. So I invited myself on the family reunion, the ring in my suitcase. But when he started falling for Robert, I knew the writing was on the wall. Eliot was acting weird, all dreamy and starry-eyed. And if I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want anyone to have him. So I threw everything at the wall, got wasted at Gracie’s party, showed him the ring, and blew it.

  Not that I blame Eliot and Robert, really. I mean, shit – Robert is one of the hottest guys I’d ever been around. But I hated him. Sometimes I would fantasize that he’d fall off the dock and hit his head and drown, or maybe slip and fall down a canyon on one of their hikes. Yes, I knew they were sneaking around, I just couldn’t believe what was happening – Eliot was going to fuck his stepdad. It was almost too much to process. Eliot has always been so mature, so stable. I controlled myself until the end, when I got wasted like an idiot, confessed that I wanted to propose, and then got dumped.

  But…something’s still wrong. Something still doesn’t feel right.

  Eliot can’t just do this to me. He didn’t even give me a grace period – he’s moving straight onto Robert, five seconds after I left. Robert doesn’t deserve to be happy while I get sent home from the trip. Robert is in my spot, the place I deserve. I should be there, and Robert should’ve been the one to get the boot. I understand their attraction, and I’m attracted to them both, too. But now that I can’t have Eliot, he is consuming me.

  I pick up my phone and scroll down to Mary Kate’s number. That poor, crazy woman. I could send her one text and ruin Eliot’s life. She’d hit the roof. She’d…well, actually, I can’t even imagine what she’d do. She’d lose her mind, and as usual, Eliot would have to deal with it. The mess would fall at his doorstep. But at the same time, I don’t know if I can do that to him.

  I hate Robert; that’s for sure. Hate, hate, hate. But Eliot deserves happiness. I just don’t know if I hate Robert enough to prevent myself from going nuclear on both of them, and turning their cute little family retreat into a family train wreck. Because I’m not totally heartless. I’m not even a bad person. I’m just selfish, which is probably the same thing – according to my mom, at least. But oh, well. I’ve always been this way. It’s not my fault that Eliot was naïve enough to look for the best in me when nobody else did.

  I pull up my calendar app and inhale. If I’m going to make a move at all, I’m going to have to do it before they leave in a few days. And right now, all signs are pointing to train wreck…

  Part V

  Embers

  Eliot Prince

  Where did it begin?

  Where did it really, truly begin? Did it begin after breakfast the first day, when we met outside the house and walked under the fat-leaved Rhododendron leaves and talked about politics and movies and music and nothing at all? Did it begin later that night, in the movie room of the mansion, where I sat next to him amongst all the family members and then – in the darkness of the moment – let my leg fall against his? Or maybe down by the lake the next morning, when we skipped rocks and talked about what we wanted out of our lives – did it start then? Or maybe the walk that afternoon, when I slipped t
en feet down a ravine like an idiot and smeared mud all over my jeans, making him laugh for ten minutes? Is that where it started?

  He is perfect in so many ways. God, even his name is sexy. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Not only is he kind, but he is genuinely one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Many people are smart in the field of science, or current events, or politics, or weather, or whatever – but whatever we talk about, his breadth of knowledge is shocking. He’s real-smart, not the fake-smart bullshit I come across so much from the guys who can charm you on a dating app, but have nothing to say in person. I don’t know if I like him, admire him, or want to rip off his pants and shove him down my throat – in fact, as the hours bleed by, I find all of those sentiments growing and deepening by the hour. I want all of it, at once.

  One afternoon we drive to Sliding Rock, a natural Slip’N’Slide where you slide down a giant stone that is smoother than glass. It’s raining too hard when we get there, though, and as I watch him talking to the parking attendant, I am filled with a galaxy of happiness I’ve never known before. Just being next to him makes me giddy. There is so much about him to notice. His spitfire hazel eyes, his sunlit smile, his birdsong laugh as the attendant says something I can’t hear – all he’s doing is existing, and yet to me he is transforming the universe.

  There’s another thing. I’m finding that the more time I spend around him, the more I realize it’s okay to be me. I know I came out of the closet already, but that is never a cut-and-dry, black-and-white process. Some people never fully become comfortable with themselves. Every day I second-guess myself if I walk outside with a shirt that seems too tight, or wonder if I’m holding my arms or walking down the sidewalk in a way that’s “too feminine.” The world programs you to believe that men should only act in a certain way, and that being gay is somehow unnatural – and ridding myself of those false beliefs has never been easy. But Robert’s example is so comforting – he’s out, and he’s okay with it. He wears his sexuality easily, he’s obviously gay and doesn’t care who knows about it, and that breezy confidence can’t help but to rub off on me. And for the first time in a long time, I am starting to relax.