Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang Us, Daddy (Murder Daddy #3)

9. Nate

CHAPTER 9

NATE

I don’t know what’s gotten into these boys, but it’s as if we’ve regressed back into puberty. For the past week, it’s been one thing after another. If they’re not making out like love-starved teenagers, one’s got his hand down the other’s pants, stroking his erection. The place is turning into Sodom and Gomorrah, and the strangest part is, I don’t think I mind. I like that they include me, because it tells me I’ve earned their trust, and that’s the greatest gift in the world.

After seeing how torn up I was about what happened between us in the kitchen, the Bens backed off. They retreated, holed away in their bedroom, not making a peep. That lasted for all of two hours before I barged in and told them in no uncertain terms would I stand for the silent treatment. I had done nothing wrong, and they were treating me like I was diseased. The moment I voiced my concern, they told me the only reason they’d been avoiding me was because they were worried I would kick them out.

Never. I made it clear that no matter what, I’ll never ask them to leave, because this is where they belong. I’m their home. Not this house. Not the great city of Tallulah. Me. Nathan St. James. Wherever I am, that’s where these boys belong.

I still have to remind them from time to time, but I think they’re starting to believe me. And when they don’t believe me, I prove it by watching them work each other over, offering commentary throughout. I don’t know that I’ve said the words “good boy” more than I’ve said them this past week.

The boys have something special planned for me after work, and I can’t wait to see what it is. All Bennet would tell me is they made it for me a few days ago. I’ve been on pins and needles since leaving the house.

“Can I be honest with you?” I ask Pastor Brooks. It’s been yet another disappointing session. His wife couldn’t make it today, so we’ve spent the past forty-five minutes tap dancing around the issues, and I’m at my wit’s end. I offered to reschedule, but he declined, claiming he had a pressing matter to discuss, but so far, all we’ve discussed has been the weather.

“Yes, sir,” he says, nervously darting his eyes at me, then back at an uninteresting inspirational quote poster I’ve got hanging on the wall.

“You’ve been skirting around the issue for almost an hour. I can’t help you if you won’t let me, Pastor Brooks. You rarely speak in the sessions with your wife, and now you’re spending what little time we do have?—”

“I’m not gay,” he interrupts me.

“I never said you were, son.”

“You didn’t have to. Everyone always says it. That’s why our church numbers are down. No one wants to hear the Gospel from someone they think is gay.” He looks up at me, his eyes pleading. “I have overcome.”

“Have you, though?” I lean forward, resting my arms on my thighs. “Whatever you say stays in this room. It’s just between us.” I reach across the coffee table and squeeze his knee. “It’s okay, son. It’s okay if you’re gay.” His jaw trembles, but he bites his bottom lip to keep it in place.

“It’s not,” he says, staring down at his shoes, unable to look me in the eyes. “It’s not okay for me to be gay. My dad taught me that when I was little. As soon as he realized I was different, he nipped it in the bud.”

I cock an eyebrow. “How?”

The color has all but drained from his face, and he’s wringing his hands together roughly enough that they’re sure to be red by the time it’s over. “He made me . . . you know . . . with a woman. A lady from church. He told me she wanted to lead me back to God’s path.” He closes his eyes, breathing deeply with each inhale, like he’s trying to steady his racing heart. “I can still see her sometimes. The way she stared at me when I—” His voice cracks, and he quickly shakes his head. “The point is, it’s not okay for me to be gay. It never will be.” Leaning back on the sofa, he stares up at the ceiling. “I stopped praying for Him to turn me straight a long time ago. My same-sex attraction isn’t ever going away, but if God can just turn me bisexual or pansexual or any of the other sexuals, that would be enough to get me to the finish line.”

“It doesn’t work that way, son,” I tell him, trying to sound supportive. “Sexualities don’t suddenly shift on their own, divine intervention or not. If you’re gay, nothing is going to change that.”

He sniffles, shaking his head. “I could be demisexual. They don’t have sexual attraction without a deep bond in place first.” He dries his eyes with his palms. “I could be demi, couldn’t I? If I just try to love my wife a little harder, maybe I can finally be attracted to her. I saw some people mention they can’t even achieve an erection until feelings are involved. Maybe that’s my issue. Maybe me and Mal just don’t have that emotional bond we need to get me to the finish line.”

My heart skips a beat. Demisexual. I’ve never worked with a demi client before, and, while I’m firm in my belief that Pastor Brooks is a solid six on the Kinsey scale, my mind lingers on the topic. From what I know, demisexuals can be straight, gay, bi, or any other shade of the rainbow. I’ve never been one to look at another person lustfully—not until meeting my wife. Then, when the feelings tapered, so did my need for sexual gratification. Could I be demisexual? Is that where my erectile issues stem from?

Changing tactics, I say, “Tell me about the boy you’re trying to convert. You said his name is Darren?”

Any worry Pastor Brooks may have felt vanishes at the mention of his friend. “I’ve known him since he was a kid. When my dad was still our church’s pastor, Darren would always sit in the front row with me. I’d catch him looking up at me with adoring eyes, and no matter what topic my father was preaching against, all I could do was look back at my little buddy and smile.” He grabs a tissue from the coffee table and wipes his eyes. “I didn’t think I was going to make it, those four years he was away for school. He’s friends with your son, actually. Darren told me Tatum’s trying to help him land a job stocking shelves at the Walmart on Highway 80.”

My heart thunders in my chest. That’s where the Bens work. That’s the agency. Tatum’s trying to get the kid a job working for a hitman agency? Alas, not my circus, not my monkeys.

“He’s the sweetest kid,” he continues. “I’m going to lead him back to his intended path, and we’re going to be lifelong friends. I just know it.” The desire in his voice is undeniable, but I don’t press the matter. The pastor isn’t ready for those truths yet. He’s so deep in the closet, he’s . . . well, he’s whatever you find deep in a closet’s corner. My mind’s still spinning too quickly from the thought I could be demisexual to craft a clever quip. “He lives with his parents, across the street from me, but I’m hoping one day he can buy the house next door. Then we can spend the rest of our lives side by side.”

“And where does Mallory fit into this equation?”

He cocks his head to the side and stares at me, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“Son,” I say, my voice firm but not unkind. “You talk about Darren the way most men talk about their wives. Do you think there’s a chance?—”

He holds his hand up, shaking his head fiercely. “Don’t even think about it. I know what you’re about to insinuate, and I’ve heard it enough from Mal to last me a lifetime. There’s nothing going on between Dare-bear and me. We’re brothers in Christ. That’s all.”

“So, Mallory believes you may be harboring feelings as well?”

“No matter how many times I tell her, she refuses to listen. She barely even pays attention to me at all anymore. Heck, she moved into the guest room the day Darren moved home from college.”

“It sounds to me like she’s creating healthy boundaries. I understand you’re going through emotional turmoil because of this, but you’re dragging her along for the ride. Is that really fair to her?”

He stares at me like I’ve just slapped him. “You act like I lied to her about it or something. She knew this was my burden when she agreed to marry me. I’ve never lied to her about my walk with God, or how His walk has led me over the rainbow. I have overcome.”

Clearly, we won’t be getting anywhere today, so I offer him a nod and we confirm next week’s session, then he heads out.

As I walk out of my office, AnnaLeigh is at her desk, typing away at her computer, her eyes locked in front of her. Following her line of sight, I notice Pastor Brooks bending over, collecting a piece of paper that must have fallen from his pocket. Once he makes his exit, I stare at AnnaLeigh.

“You can’t just ogle our clients, AnnaLeigh. For goodness’ sake, this is a reputable therapist’s office, not a brothel.”

She licks her lips, staring longingly at the door. “Pastor Brooks is such a cutie-patootie. Young and virile.” I can practically see her heart leaping out of her chest at the admission. “So pretty. So sweet.” Her eyes darken. “So gay.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “AnnaLeigh, we’ve discussed this.”

“I wonder if the little twink he’s been treating with his conversion therapy tactics might want to take a more direct approach to his therapy. A little man-on-woman-as-God-intended approach.”

I close my eyes to stop myself from screaming. I won’t employ a homophobe. “How the heck do you even know about the conversion therapy he’s been practicing?”

She blushes. “I have my ways.”

I knew it. Damn her straight to Hell, I knew hiring a convicted wiretapper was a bad idea, but she’d sworn to me that she was a changed woman. “Dammit, AnnaLeigh. Have you planted a listening device in my office like you did down at the Pick-n-Save? I told you when I hired you that if you pulled that foolishness here, I’d report you. You gave me your word."

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” she says, quickly turning her attention to her phone as she fumbles with the screen. She’s feverishly tapping on audio files, deleting them one by one, but her finger lingers a bit too long, and accidentally presses play. Pastor Brooks’ voice booms from her phone, claiming he’s overcome his burden for the umpteenth time.

“That’s it,” I interrupt, grabbing her phone and deleting the files myself. “That’s the final straw,” I interrupt. “AnnaLeigh, I’m sorry, but I can’t abide by this any longer. Listening in on my therapy sessions. Your bizarre urge to see homosexual men sleep with women. Those unhinged books you write. I’m sorry. You’re fired.”

“You’re serious?” Her mouth hangs open in shock. “B-but I won’t get to see our lovely Bens anymore. They’re so precious. The matching clothes. Their larger-than-life gay personalities. Those tight little butts.” She lets out a sordid, needy whine, and all I can do is point at the door.

“Don’t ever mention my Bens again. You stay away from them."

Tearfully, she collects her items and walks toward the door. Turning around, her tears have stopped, and she’s got a rabid look in her eyes. “I’ll get them, my pretty. And your little twink son, too.”

With that, she storms out of the office, and I pull out my phone, googling the steps involved in getting a restraining order.

When I finally get home, I kick off my shoes and neatly pile them by the door where they belong. I loosen my tie and unbutton the top button of my shirt. The boys mentioned having a surprise for me, earlier, and it’s what got me through the rest of my day. The way my Bens dote on me and continuously shower me with affection leaves me in a state of disbelief. No one’s ever shown so much care for me. Even when I was still courting my ex-wife, I was the one who had to do all the planning. I planned, I paid, and in return I eventually got a son out of the deal.

I grab snacks and drinks from the kitchen—Funyuns and a Dr. Pepper for Bennet, chips and store-bought guacamole for Benji—before unlocking my phone and sending Tatum a quick message telling him I love him. He won’t reply, because he rarely does, but my phone tells me he sees them all, and that’s good enough for me.

I try to enter the living room, only to be rushed back into the kitchen by Bennet. He walks me toward the kitchen island, taking the snacks from my hand and setting them on the counter. He’s got a determined look in his eyes, and it’s one I’ve never seen from him. He isn’t scared or worried, he simply looks decided, though what he’s decided on, I’m not entirely sure.

“I need you to do me a favor,” he whispers, his voice soft but insistent. “The movie we’re going to show you . . . it’s personal . Something we made just for you. I don’t know if you’re going to like it, or if you’re even ready to see it yet, but . . .” He closes his eyes and nods to himself. “But we can’t keep on going like this. Not without you knowing the truth.”

“Son,” I say, my voice weak, because how are they always so precious? “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.” I take him by the chin and tug until he’s staring into my eyes. “I’ll love it, because you made it for me.”

He nods. “I know. It just might be a little shocking. Benji’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell he’s nervous too.” Bennet’s face is only inches from mine, and I can see the wheels turning in his head from here. I see the kiss coming before he even moves. Bennet leans in and presses a close-mouthed kiss on my lips, lingering a little longer than necessary, but who am I to fault him for craving human contact? He presses his hand to my heart and rests his forehead against mine. “Just don’t be mad at us. Okay? Because we love you, Nate. We love you, and we don’t want to lose?—”

I surprise myself by interrupting his ramblings with a quick kiss on the lips, just as he did with me a second ago. He whimpers softly, practically melting into my arms. It doesn’t last long, but it lasts long enough to make a difference, because when I pull away, my boy is staring at me with dreamy eyes.

“You will never lose me, Bennet. Neither will Benji. Heck, you could tell me you killed a man, and I’d be right there with you, hiding the body. I basically did that with Tatum when he shot the monster. We stayed right by his side. I would’ve killed the man if Tatum gave me the green light. So, just know that whatever’s on that video, it’s not going to change anything.”

He nods, but he’s looking nervous. “Tatum’s your son, though. You have to stand by him.”

“You’re my son, too,” I insist. “You and Benji. You’re mine, and you always will be.”

He’s staring at his feet, unable—or, perhaps, unwilling—to look me in the eye. “Will you hold my hand while we watch? I’m scared.”

I slip my fingers between his and grip his hand. “I’ll hold your hand any time you want. You don’t have to ask.” Leaning in, I kiss his forehead, then motion toward the living room. “Come on. Benji’s probably working himself into a frenzy wondering where we are.”

Strangely enough, Benji’s sitting on the couch when we enter, staring at the floor. His blond hair is looking less like a ball of pretty fluff and more like a rat’s nest. He must’ve been running his fingers through it the way he does when he’s nervous. I hate seeing them so torn up like this.

He doesn’t look up when we approach—not until Bennet kneels in front of him and says, “It’s okay. I talked to him. He’s not going to be mad.” Bennet shoots me a pleading look. “You promised. Didn’t you?”

“I sure did.” I kneel in front of Benji, right beside Bennet, offering them both a hand to hold. Bennet takes the one I’m holding out for him, but Benji just stares at it, too frightened to take what’s his. “Here you go, buddy. Hold my hand.” He looks up at me with glossy eyes, and it’s only now I realize he’s been crying. “Oh, Benji. Baby, no. Don’t cry. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Dad’s not going anywhere. I told Bennet, and I’ll tell you the same. Whatever’s on this video, you don’t have to worry. It’s not going to change how I feel about you.” I press my hand against his heart, needing him to know I’m telling the truth, because the level of disbelief on his face stings like a dang knife to the heart. I’m his safe place. Their safe space. So, why don’t they feel safe with me? When it’s clear he’s not going to answer me, I sigh, letting go of Bennet’s hand and sitting down beside Benji. “I’m here. I’m right here, and I always will be.” Sheepishly, he extends his arm, handing me the remote without looking up at me. I give Bennet a questioning look, and when he gives me his nod of approval, I aim the remote at the screen and click play.

“Hey, Dad,” my Benji says, waving at me on the screen. Strangely enough, they seem to be bathed in semen. It’s slathered all over their skin. “So, there’s something we’ve wanted to talk with you about for a while. Something important, but it’s scary. Life-changing levels of scary.”

On our oversized flatscreen, Bennet squeezes Benji’s hand in the video, telling his best friend, “He loves us, baby. He’s not going to hurt us.”

I grab the remote and pause the clip long enough to assure him. “He’s right,” I tell Benji. “I’ll never hurt you.” Benji’s shoulder touches my arm, and he leans his head against me. It’s such a simple act, but it’s one that tugs at my heartstrings. His hand is right beside me, and I’m not missing my opportunity. The second our hands touch, it feels like half my soul’s been awakened. The other half is still holding out for more. For Bennet. He’s still kneeling in front of his friend, but I want him closer. I pat the empty space on my other side, thankful when he takes a seat without arguing. Our hands lock, and here it is. That sense of completion. A knowingness that all is right with the world. Why the heck do these boys have such an effect on me? I’ve spent twenty years hanging on to a woman who’s been steadily letting go more and more, bit by bit. My self-confidence is non-existent, but I swear to God, sometimes the looks these boys give me make me feel like I’m . . . beautiful.

Benji takes the remote from where I rested it on my thigh and resumes the video. “We did something a minute ago,” he says on screen. “Something I think you’d be really proud of.” In the video, Benji takes Bennet’s hand and brings it to his mouth. He kisses his knuckles one by one, the same way I do with them. “He’s my boyfriend now.”

My heart rate skyrockets. Boyfriends? My boys? My jaw must be on the floor, because Bennet’s staring at me with a subtle smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

“I’m so happy for you, boys,” I say, but that little twinge in my heart won’t go away, and I don’t understand why. “Really. If anyone deserves it, it’s?—”

Benji places a hand over my mouth. “It’s not over yet. There’s more to it, so keep watching.”

“Just remember to stay calm,” Bennet adds.

“Cool as a cucumber,” I say once Benji removes his hand from my mouth. On screen, Bennet is still staring nervously at the camera.

“It’s new, and it’s awesome,” Benji continues on screen, turning and staring at Bennet beside him. “I didn’t know this was possible. That there was a way for us to be more than what we already were. But the thing is, we’re still not complete, because we don’t have a Daddy.” Bennet mumbles something under his breath, and Benji stares at him, grinning. “Exactly. That’s where you come in, Dad.”

I grab the remote and press pause. “So that’s it, then? You want me to find you a Daddy?” Why does it feel like my insides are being ripped out? Just the thought of some other man—maybe a man who isn’t terribly kind—laying claim to these boys or calling them “son” makes me see red. Will he remember to tell them how special they are? Will he touch them? Maybe even hurt them?

I’ll kill anyone who tries.

Tatum and Scotty call their boyfriends murder daddies because they’re assassins. I think I might be a murder daddy because I see no issue in crushing anyone who hurts my boys.

Bennet sighs and grabs the remote, pressing play. “Just watch.”

“And before you start freaking out, thinking we want someone else to be our Daddy,” Bennet says once the video resumes. “That’s not what this is.”

“See?” Bennet whispers beside me. “We know you, Nate. The way I know Benji, that’s the way we know you.”

I don’t get a chance to respond to those words, because Bennet’s overtaken the screen, his cheeks a rosy shade of red. “We want you, Nate. We want you to be our Daddy.”

“It makes sense,” Benji quickly adds, beaming at the camera. “You love us. You always take care of us. You let me wear your cum, Dad. Bennet and I have talked it over until we were blue in the face—you’re the part of us that’s missing. The glue that keeps us held together. And I know you’re probably scared and feel like your whole world’s falling apart, but I’m right beside you, Dad. My hand’s right there for the taking, and I promise, if you take it, you don’t ever have to let it go. You keep telling us you’ll never hurt us, but you’ve been hurt too. You were broken just as badly as we were.” Bennet stares at Benji, cupping his face and kissing him gently on the lips. My insides might be scrambled, but seeing them like that, their love so strong it almost feels tangible, makes my heart flutter. “You don’t ever have to hurt again. We won’t let you. We might not be big and strong like you, but you’re ours, just like we’re yours, and we take care of what belongs to us.”

Benji and Bennet share a look before turning back to the camera, beaming bashfully. “We love you,” they say in unison.

With the video over, I launch up from the couch, feeling too jittery to sit still. I pace the floor, trying to make sense of this in my head.

Daddy?

They don’t want me to be their dad, they want me to be Daddy. Their Daddy. The one I’ve been pushing them to find for the last two months.

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad,” Benji reminds me, his voice soft and frightened. “You promised, Dad .”

I shudder at the word. God. I almost forgot that’s who I am to him. His dad. The dad he wants to become his Daddy. Ah, hell. Is this incest? Pseudocest? I’m a licensed sexologist, for God’s sake, I should know these things. Why can’t I keep my thoughts from scattering?

My mind rushes back to so many moments we’ve shared. Bennet rutting against me until he came. Benji asking me to wear his seed. Their desire to share my bed. Has it all been an elaborate act just to land their ex-boyfriend’s dad? Is it right to feel used? Because I do. I was lied to by their repeated acts of omission, and, while I’m not angry with them for harboring feelings for me, it makes me queasy that they didn’t come to me about it.

I sigh, because how the hell can I be mad at them? I asked them to share their feelings, and that’s what they’ve done. If I blow up now, they’ll never trust me again.

I pause in front of the television and stare at them on screen. Thanks to the video’s high quality, I can spot something on the bed beside them. Benji’s phone is on, and there’s a shirtless picture of myself, taken half a decade ago on a family vacation. How far back did he have to scroll through my social media profiles to find it? And why does he even need it?

My heart slams in my chest. “Why do you have that picture of me?” I ask, though I don’t know if I want to hear the answer. When I turn to Benji, he’s leaning back on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You know why.”

“Benj,” Bennet hisses, but his best friend simply shakes his head, refusing to look away from me.

“You know why I have it. Don’t you, Dad?”

Good Lord.

I don’t know who this man is masquerading as my Benji, but he’s so assertive. He’s got his eyes locked on a lackluster prize, and I don’t think he’s going to let go so easily. Do I want him to let go? “Have . . . have you boys been masturbating while thinking of me?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. Bennet blushes, removing any hope I had left that this is just some sort of elaborate hoax.

“Every night,” Benji says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most normal response in the world. “And we probably will again,” he continues. “If that’s a problem, I don’t know what to tell you, because it’s not going to stop.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw just hit the floor. “What?”

Benji grabs his bulge, shaking what I’m pretty sure is a full-on erection. “This is because of you, Dad. It’s always because of you.” He gives Bennet a sheepish smile. “Well, lately it’s because of Bennet too, but that’s neither here nor there.” As if he’s trying to emphasize his point, Benji slowly strokes himself up, then down. With his pajamas hiding him from view, I can almost pretend he’s just playing a silly gag on me, but the closer I look the easier it is to see the outline of the head.

Yep. That’s my non-biological son’s penis.

“It’s hard for you, Dad. I stay hard for you.”

“Benji.”

“Tell him, Bennet,” Benji prompts. Dear Lord, he’s still stroking it. It’s like I’m not even in the room.

“We love you, Nate,” Bennet says. My Bennet. My sweet, kind, gentle Bennet is staring at me like I’m holding his entire future in my hands. “And I know maybe this feels sudden, but it’s not sudden for us.”

My head is spinning and I’m having trouble just keeping myself in the moment. “I can’t. Boys, this isn’t right. I’m your dad. You’re like sons to me. We can’t . . .” Looking back at the screen, I stare at my cum-stained sons, drenched in the evidence of their arousal. A mental image of Bennet and Benji bent over the side of the bed flashes through my mind. In the dream, they’re staring over their shoulder at me, hands on their cheeks, pulling them apart, giving me a view of their . . . “Give me one chance, alright?” My words and tone are frantic, because it feels like my world’s caving in around me, and I don’t know how to keep myself from falling down with it. “Just give me a chance to find you a Daddy who can love you the way boys deserve. I know you both so well.” I rush over to the sofa and kneel in front of them, squeezing each of their knees. “Who can help you pick a better Daddy than me, huh? Who else could find a man who will protect you the way you deserve?” Benji sniffles, and the sound of it sends my heart shattering in my chest. I cup his cheek because it’s the only thing that centers him. “Ah, hell. Baby, please don’t cry. You know what that does to me.”

He looks up at me with wet eyes and runny nose. I don’t care how dang nasty it is, I lift the tail of my shirt and use it to wipe his nose. My boy needs me now, and I don’t give a dang how many bodily fluids I have to wade through to get to him, I’ll always find a way to comfort Benji, if he needs me.

“Then stop making me want to cry,” Benji pleads as tears fall down his cheeks. “I don’t want another Daddy. Didn’t you watch the video? We made it very clear. It isn’t like I’m asking you for the world. I just want you to be my boyfriend.”

I suck in a sharp breath, the word, “Boyfriend?” leaving my mouth in a rush when I breathe out. “You want—I mean, you . . . boyfriend?”

Benji nods emphatically. “Yeah? See? It’s not too much to ask. We’re trying so hard to break it to you gently, but it’s like you’re not listening.”

“Gently?” I scoff, the bitter tone around the words tasting vile and unwelcome.

“Gently,” he agrees with a nod. “If I wanted to shock you I’d mention how Bennet and I want to put a camera in your room so we can watch you all the time.”

My eyes bulge. “You what?”

Bennet groans. “Jesus, Benj.”

“No!” Benji shouts at Bennet, unwilling to be silenced. “Dad’s always said as long as we’re good boys and use our words, he’ll give us whatever we want.” His eyes lock with mine. “So that’s what I want. I want you to be my boyfriend, I want to sleep in your bed all the time, and I want to put a camera on you so I can watch you when you think you’re alone.”

“Why on Earth would you want that?”

His cheeks darken. “Reasons.”

“Oh, for the love of—” I fling my hands in the air in defeat. His words are absolutely ridiculous. “I’m not putting a camera in my room, son. I think you’re taking things a bit overboard.” When I reach for his hand, wanting to soothe him, he just slaps it away. “I can’t be your boyfriend.”

“Don’t you love us?” Benji asks.

“More than anything in the world, buddy, but it isn’t right. You dated my son, son. You’ve done things with him. Sexual things. Even if I wanted to, how could I?—”

“Tatum isn’t here,” Bennet snaps, surprising me. He’s always so calm and patient. This new bitter tone to his voice doesn’t sound like the Bennet I know, and I realize there are so many parts of himself he’s kept hidden from me. I want to know every part of him. Not just the good side. So, I sit back, and I allow him to air his thoughts. “He’s in Washington, living his best life with his husband. He left us, and we’re stuck trying to put our lives back together the best we can, but we’re not strong, Nate. We’re not strong like you.”

“You think I’m strong?” I ask with a scoff. “I watched my wife fall out of love with me and I did nothing to stop it from happening. You boys act like I’m this all-knowing godhead, but I’m just as lost as you.”

Bennet leans forward and grabs my wrist. “Then let’s be lost together.”

“It’s not . . .” I sigh, because even if I was gay or bi, this wouldn’t work. I could never keep these boys sexually satisfied with my lackluster ability to maintain an erection. “It isn’t just because of Tatum.”

“Is it because you’re straight? Because, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you came for us, Dad,” Benji says, sniffling. “You were looking right at us when it happened. We’re the ones you were thinking of. That’s not the action of a straight man.”

“You think I don’t know that, Benjamin? Do you think I haven’t been beating myself up over it?” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s not just that. There’s more, and once you find out, you’re going to see how silly this idea really is.” I grab his hand and hold on tight. “You’re not the only one worried about losing someone they love, son. If something goes south, you’ve still got each other. Who will I have?” There’s a little wetness on my cheeks, so I wipe them dry with my palms. “I’ll have nothing, Benjamin. If that happens, I won’t have my boys. I won’t have Tatum. I’m nothing, and you’re all I have left. Both of you.”

“We would never—” Bennet attempts before I cut him off.

“I have erectile dysfunction,” I say. “The other day in the kitchen was a fluke. Even if I wanted to give you what you want, I couldn’t keep you happy sexually. It’s the whole reason you brought the monster into your relationship with Tatum and Austin. You need someone who can please you in ways I don’t think I can.”

Bennet squeezes my knee. “We wanted him to join because we needed someone to look out for us. It might have been about penetration for Tatum and Austin, but it never was for us.”

Benji nods. “Getting fucked is nice, but so is everything we’ve done together. Rubbing against you. Having you watch us while we jack off. That’s enough for us, Dad. We don’t need a porn star, we just need someone who will take care of us. We need a Daddy.”

“We need you,” Bennet adds, nodding his agreement. “We want you, Nate.”

I release the hold I have on their hands and stand up, just needing a moment to think. The moment spreads into minutes as I pace back and forth across the room.

Daddy. They want me to be their Daddy. With anyone else, I’d simply scoff and tell them they’re being ridiculous, but how can I do that with my boys?

I pause, turning and staring at the paused image of Bennet and Benji on their bed. The cum on their faces, the look of raw love in their eyes. All because of me.

A pair of hands wrap around me from behind, and a set of lips press flush against my neck.

Benji.

I would know his touch anywhere. Wetness touches my skin, and it doesn’t stop. His teeth dig in, not enough to hurt, just enough to let me know he’s there, and despite my supposed sexuality being up in the air at the moment, I don’t want to break this contact. I think I need my boy just as much as he needs me.

Another hand touches my stomach, rising and falling slowly as Bennet’s lips touch my neck. I’ve got a man on each side, worshiping me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like I’ve done something to deserve their affection. But what could I have ever done to deserve this? They’re half my age, which in and of itself is problematic on every level. Add to that, there’s the fact that up until today—despite the past sexual encounters—I’ve always seen them as my sons. That feeling of fatherly devotion isn’t fading either, which troubles me, because it makes this feel like incest. The worst part is, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.

“Daddy,” Bennet whispers, and the word sends a chill down my spine. “Don’t you love us?” God. He sounds so broken.

“Of course I do,” I say, unable to look away from the picture of my shirtless torso.

“Don’t you want to be our dad forever?” Benji asks.

“Always,” I answer, feeling a little lightheaded.

Bennet’s hand creeps lower, only stopping when he reaches my waist. “You want to keep us safe?”

“Because you do it so well, Dad.”

“We never feel safer than when we’re with you,” Bennet agrees.

“And we can stay like this forever. Just the three of us,” Benji adds.

“Don’t you want that?” they ask in unison.

“Boys,” I whisper. God. Why the hell am I so lightheaded? Why does it feel like time’s flashing by in an instant while I’m stuck here, unable to move? Bennet’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching as I place my hand on top of his. He’s less than three inches from glory, and I know if I don’t stop this now, he’s going to touch it. I place my hand on top of Bennet’s and guide him away. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

I expect Bennet to object, but he doesn’t. His hand shakes free from my grip, and he moves it up until he has it held over my heart. His lips return to my neck, leaving a gentle trail of kisses upward, toward my jaw. My cheek. Right below my ear. He takes my earlobe into his mouth and suckles it like a calf to his mother’s teat.

“Is this okay?” Bennet asks. “If it’s not, I’ll stop.”

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Benji says when he finally pries his lips off my neck. “I mean, I know that might sound silly since we’re essentially molesting your neck, but still.” As if wanting to prove his point, he kisses my neck again, but it’s deeper this time. His mouth opens wider. I’m hit with more of his warmth. More of his heat. More of my Benji. I reach up and behind myself, until I’ve got my fingers in his hair. Much to everyone’s surprise, I don’t shove him away. I pull him even closer, needing more of this. Bennet’s hand slides down my back until it’s only inches from my ass. Then his finger dips below, resting at the peak of my crack.

Sweet Jesus. I think I want him to keep going.

“Bennet,” I growl. It’s a sound I’ve never made before, but these boys make everything new.

“Yeah, Daddy?”

Fuck!

That word. That beautiful, overwhelming title. I need him to keep saying it. I want him to say it every day for the rest of our lives.

“We need to stop this,” I insist, but I can’t seem to take my hands off either of them. It’s too much. The love they’re pouring into me feels impossible. How can these small, gentle guys have so much love to give? “We need . . .” When Bennet grinds against my thigh, I feel just how much he means this. He’s rock-hard, and he’s rocking it against me. I love it. Feeling him against me, knowing he’s looking at me like one might watch a lover. “We need to . . .”

“Come,” Benji whispers, rolling his hips until his cock is pressed against me as well. “We need to come, Dad. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Benjamin.” Slowly, with each thrust he takes, I’m brought back to reality. My boys need release, but more than that, they need me. If we’re really doing this, I don’t want it to start this way. My boys might think they need to come, but there’s something else they need—for me to be on their wavelength. Right now, I’m not. Right now, I’m barely holding my head above water. How am I ever supposed to be their Daddy if I prioritize having them come on my chest over ensuring their hearts are protected from any potential fallout. “We need to talk. Your penises will have to wait.” Stepping forward, I break the hold they have on me and take a deep breath.

“Daddy,” Bennet whines.

“Bennet.” I try to focus, but damn. Every time he uses the endearment, it feels like an explosion.

“Sorry,” Bennet says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I don’t know how to tell him I’m not upset. There isn’t an ounce of anger in my body. Frustration with the situation? Absolutely. But there’s not a thread of bitterness woven into me right now. I turn around to face them, the way I always taught my son, Tatum. It’s something a man does. He looks you dead in the eyes, no matter how uncomfortable the topic of conversation might be.

“I’m not angry—we just need to talk.”

Benji must be feeling cheeky, because he wraps a hand around his shaft, outlining the entire length through his pajama bottoms. “Mean Dad.”

Bennet’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing softly. I can tell there’s something he wants, but I don’t know what it is. He rocks on the balls of his feet twice before stopping himself, like he’s trying to play off the action so it goes unnoticed, but I notice everything. The way his hands fidget nervously with the tail of his shirt.

“Mean Daddy,” Bennet whispers his agreement, his cheeks flooding with color once the words are out. “Sorry.” He spits the word at me like its lava that’s scorching his tongue. “It just keeps slipping out.”

Is he worried about showing his playful side? It’s a side I see so rarely, and judging by the resigned expression on his face, it’s something Bennet wants to unleash. God. These boys have been without a Daddy for so long.

That ends today.

They’ve got me. However much or as little as they need, I’ll give it, because I don’t ever want to see this look on Bennet’s face again. It isn’t devastation or loss, it’s resignation. An inward acknowledgment that this thing—this one small insignificant label—is something he may never get to use again.

He can say it whenever the hell he wants.

I step forward, cupping both my boys’ cheeks. “I need you to focus. Can you do that for me, sweethearts?” I swallow, trying to build up the courage I’ll need to do this. They’re staring at me as if I’m not about to change everything we’ve ever been. With my hands trembling against his face, I lean closer and press my mouth to Benji’s. Our lips don’t part, which is good, because I’m still a little nervous about that, but the nervousness doesn’t negate this inner need to please my Bens. When I pull away, Benji’s got a dreamy look in his eyes. “Dad loves you, buddy.”

Benji’s hand grips tighter around my hip. “I love you, too, Dad.” I give Benji a kiss on the tip of his nose, pretending to bite a chunk off and swallow it down, and the action earns me a scandalized expression from Benji. “Give it back!” There’s a twinge of playful laughter accenting each word, and the sound of him so carefree after he’s trusted me with this big, beautiful secret they’ve been hiding . . . it’s everything. They are everything.

I open my mouth and pretend to pull out the dismembered tip of his nose, then I press it against his actual nose and seal the action with another kiss. “All better?”

Benji nods. “It’s always better with you.”

I stroke his cheek, then turn my attention to Bennet. My scared little guy. I know he’s worried, because his face can’t hide anything. Wanting to reassure him the same way I did with Benji, I lean in and kiss him softly on the lips. A whine escapes him as if I’ve just given him the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. “Bennet,” I mumble, not wanting this moment to end. I don’t know how things will work in the bedroom, but this kiss? This is enough. It’s not a kiss filled with panic or confusion, it’s simply our truth. It’s gentle and soft, like satin on silk.

This kiss might be the beginning of something new, but it’s also my way of saying goodbye to the version of them I’ve had in my head for a year. I know if I’m ever going to give them what they need, I have to let go of any assumptions of our future. No more waiting for them to find another Daddy only to leave me here alone. No more fear that I might not be able to please them sexually. Just truth. I love these boys, and I can make them happy. Though I don’t have control of a lot of things, I can control this. I can give them everything they’re wanting, even if a lot of it makes me nervous.

“Daddy loves you, Bennet.” I kiss him again. “I love you so much, little guy.”

“Daddy?” he whispers.

I swallow, then nod. “Daddy.”

“You mean it?” Tears flood his eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to brush them away. “You’re really going to be our Daddy?”

“That’s what you both want?”

They share a look and exchange a decided nod. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I finally say. I lean in closer to Bennet, because I need him to really hear this and take the words in. “You’re not alone anymore. Daddy’s got you. I’ll have you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Tears are falling freely now, and Bennet’s making no effort to wipe them away. “Forever,” he finally says. “We want you for forever.”

My heart is slamming in my chest, but I won’t let it hold me back. I can’t. “Done.” I give Benji the same decided look. “I’m yours, boys. If you want forever with me, you got it.”

They rush me like rolling rapids, arms and legs tangling everywhere as they try to climb me like a tree. I’m not as limber as I once was, but they don’t weigh much, so I’m able to support them without falling on my butt. I’m pretty sure there isn’t an inch of my face that their lips haven’t touched, and they aren’t showing any signs of stopping. Carefully, I carry them to the couch, thankful when they lower themselves to the floor and take seats on the sofa. Bennet grabs my arm and pulls me down, but his aim is terrible, so I end up landing in his lap, probably crushing every bone in his body.

If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t let it show, just holds me in his lap, rubbing my shoulders with one hand and my stomach with the other. Benji’s right beside him, his hands on my ankle and shin. It’s like they’re scared if they stop touching me, I’ll disappear. Bennet squeezes my ass, and the second I lock eyes with him, he looks away, whistling innocently like a cartoon character. I lean closer and nip at his chin, making him giggle.

“All right,” I finally say, hoping my voice is clear in the fact I mean business. They don’t stop exploring me, but I’ve got their attention, and I can work with that. “If we’re doing this, we need to go into it prepared. I don’t want to risk either of you getting hurt.”

Bennet squeezes my thigh. “We don’t want you to get hurt either, D—” He bites his bottom lip.

“Daddy,” I finish for him. “You can say it, baby. I’m not going to change my mind.”

The corner of his lip curls, but I can tell he’s still teetering between comfort and worry. “We don’t want you to get hurt either, Daddy,” he finally says. “It’s not just about us. It’s about you too.”

I lift my hand and pat my chest, right over my heart. “This old ticker’s been broken before. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about unintentionally breaking one of yours. That’s why we need to lay everything out there. I’ve worked with men and women in polyamorous relationships before, and it’s important to set clear expectations. I don’t want one of you feeling jealous of the other. It’s my job to keep you happy, so, my first request is that if anyone’s feeling left out, or like you’re a third wheel, I want you to tell me. Just tell Daddy and let him fix it.”

“You won’t be mad?” Benji asks, snuggling closer to Bennet, his hand sliding further up my thigh.

“Never,” I insist. “But I will be upset if you just sit and stew in your misery. If you’re hurting, I have to know. Promise me.”

They share a look, then a nod. “Yes, sir,” they say.

“Good boys. Now, as for sex—” I chuckle softly to myself as Benji shudders at the word. “I don’t know how it’s going to work or if I’ll ever be able to rise to the occasion, but . . .” I glance down at Benji’s bulge. Wanting to prove to my boys—and maybe to prove to myself, as well—that I’m capable of performing the task at hand, I cup each of their bulges, though it takes a bit of wiggle room, since I’m still sitting on Bennet’s lap. “Keeping you happy means keeping these two guys happy, too. I don’t think I’m ready for it yet, but if you give me a little time?—”

“You can have as much time as you need,” Bennet says, wrapping his hand around my wrist and lifting my hand, kissing my knuckles. “There’s no rush.”

It’s a sentiment Benji doesn’t seem to share, because he’s practically grinding my palm toward completion. Bennet sighs and grabs my other hand, pulling it away from Benji’s crotch.

“Control your penis,” Bennet warns.

Benji wraps a hand around his underwear-covered dick and strokes himself slowly. “Will you take care of it for me, then? After we’re done with this, will you suck me?”

Bennet blushes, looking at me with a nervous expression. “Yeah. Okay, Benj. I’ll suck you.”

To my surprise, the words have a stiffening effect on my shaft, and it’s slowly but steadily swelling. Gosh. What is it about these boys?

“What about the camera?” Benji sheepishly asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Will you let us put a camera in your room?”

I blink at him. “Absolutely not.”

“But, Dad,” he whines, stroking himself obscenely. “Wanna watch you while I play with myself. Wanna shoot a load looking at your face.”

“Horny boy,” I tease with a laugh, tapping the tip of his nose. “Not happening, buddy. If you want to look at me while you pleasure yourself, you’re just going to have to crawl into the big bed and do it in person.”

Benji rolls his eyes. “You know you’re gonna let me do it.”

“Do I?” I ask, reaching up to steal his nose again, but he’s quicker than me, playfully slapping my hand away.

“Yes. Because it’s something I want, and I always get what I want. It’s not just for spank bank material, though. I feel better when I can see you. That day you and Bennet were sick and I had to stay at work all day long, I was scared out of my mind.” He places his hand on mine and squeezes. “And then I would look at you both, and I felt better.”

I swallow. I can’t seriously be considering this, can I? It’s a preposterous idea. Surprising myself, I say, “I won’t bring it in the bathroom, son. That’s out of the question.”

“Not when you go number two,” he agrees, “because it’s icky and dads don’t do that, but maybe you could bring it when you tinkle and when you shower. I’m not into watersports, but I don’t mind the sight of pee. Bennet on the other hand . . .” He flings his hand in the air dramatically.

Bennet’s eyes bulge. “That was one time! And you only peed on me because I got stung by a jellyfish.”

Benji arches an eyebrow. “A likely story.”

“You saw it happen! You were pointing and laughing. And do you know what? I didn’t get you back for it then, but maybe I’ll get back at you now.”

Benji’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy?” Bennet asks, refusing to break eye contact. My heart is racing, because hearing him let loose, showing me this side of himself I’ve never had the chance to meet, feels like I’ve been given the most precious gift in the world.

“Don’t,” Benji pleads. “Whatever you’re about to do—don’t do it.”

Bennet smiles cheerfully before looking at me. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, Benji sneaks into your room and jacks off while he watches you.”

My cheeks are warm as I look at Benji’s horrified expression and the smirk settled on Bennet’s face. In my head, there’s an endless number of questions. How long has he been doing this? Does he simply ejaculate onto the carpet? Am I going to need to invest in a carpet shampooer? I open my mouth to ask all of them, but all I can bring myself to say is, “Well, I guess you won’t have to wait until I’m asleep anymore.”