Mine

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Marshall

“D o you want me to drive?” Jay asks when we get to the car.

“I’m fine.” But really, I’m not. I went into this knowing what would happen, but it still feels like a knife to the heart. Like in some ways, my world is falling apart around me, and if it wasn’t for Jay, I would collapse too…but it’s because I’m with him that any of this is happening. It’s not his fault, and it doesn’t change how I feel about him. It’s just another way that life fucks with you sometimes.

“Let me see your face.” Jay reaches for me again, but I shake my head and jerk away. It’s throbbing, and I know it will feel even worse later. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No. It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things went. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I just… I can’t do this here.”

“Okay.”

There’s disappointment in his expression, which mirrors in my chest. I’m not disappointed in him, but because I let him down—because I’m the reason his relationship with his parents will be even worse than it was before.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I should have fixed this. I should have made it better for you.”

“Jesus, Marshall. You’re not a fucking superhero. You’re human. There’s nothing you could have done to change this.”

Maybe my brain knows that, but the rest of me hasn’t caught up. “Let’s go.”

We ride back to my place in silence, Jay with his forehead against his window, looking out while I drive. This is usually where I shine. It’s strange that even though I’ve never been huge on emotions, or truly let many people penetrate my walls, I’ve always known how to take care of others. How to be there for them and help them feel better. I should have the words Jay needs. I should pull over and not drive another mile until I know he’s okay, but it’s like I’ve lost the ability in this moment. I’m empty myself and don’t know how to get past that.

“I love him…”

I wondered, of course, but I think part of me worries I’m not very lovable. Not for most people, at least. John and Callie always have. Jay did in other ways, and now he’s in love with me. It’s a bright spot in the darkness trying to take over my soul.

When we get home, I fight to push away the emptiness, try to lock John’s words away, to forget the way he looked at me, how disgusted he was and how I let him down.

“I’m so sorry that went the way it did,” I tell Jay the second we’re inside. He’s right in front of me, looking up at me with emotional blue eyes. I push the hair off his forehead. “What he said…about the things we do. There is nothing wrong with it. You’re not wrong. You’re not somehow broken for needing the things you do, and if you ever decide you don’t need them anymore, that’s okay too.”

He nods and leans in, pressing his forehead to my pec. My lips press down against the top of his head, and I breathe in the scent of my shampoo on him.

“Do you know those things too?” he asks. “Hearing it from Dad…that couldn’t have been easy.”

My hands move to his waist, holding him close. “No, they weren’t. But I betrayed him.”

“We didn’t do it on purpose.”

Not in the beginning, but once I knew who Jay was, I had a choice. I told myself I did it for him, but I did it for me because I want him so damn much. “What do you need from me, sweet boy?” I ask, rather than responding directly to what he said.

“To help take care of you,” he replies softly. “To be close to you. Can we just do that for a little while?” The simple question is like a magic balm, easing the tension inside me. I want to be close to him too, want our give-and-take to fall into step the way it’s supposed to, like a melody that sings to us both.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

“I’ll go get some ice for your face.”

I nod, and he goes to the kitchen while I make my way into the living room. After removing my shoes, I sit on the couch, face suddenly beginning to throb more.

Jay joins me moments later, his sneakers removed as well, and sits beside me. I drop my head against the back of the couch when he places the ice pack against my cheek. “John has a really strong swing. Who would have thought?” I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t see the look on my ex-best friend’s face when I do.

“I can’t believe he hit you. I’ll never forgive him for that.”

My lids pop open. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want what is between me and your dad to come between you and your parents. Regardless of the circumstances, I did betray your father. I knew what was at stake, and how he felt, and I did it anyway. I’m in the wrong here, and though violence isn’t the answer, and he couldn’t be more wrong, from his perspective, I’m hurting his only son in a way you shouldn’t be hurt.”

Despite knowing John is wrong about BDSM and kink, I can’t help hating myself for everything that’s happened, for doing what I do with his son.

“He’s judgmental. He hit you in anger. You would never do that to me or to him. You give me what I want and set me free. He tries to put me in chains. Plus, impact play isn’t even the main piece of what we do.”

No, it’s not, but that’s irrelevant. It’s how John sees this. “I don’t think him knowing the rest of it will make things any better.”

“I like what we do.”

I sigh, my chest swelling because of this sweet boy. “I like it too. Come here. I want to hold you.”

Jay sits back against my right arm, head on my shoulder, facing me slightly so he can hold the ice to me. We stay like that, just being close. Eventually, we end up lying down together, limbs tangled as we fit ourselves on a couch that’s not technically large enough for both of us to be on comfortably. It’s never mattered before, and it definitely doesn’t now.

Jay falls asleep, and I watch him for a little while. When I look at him now, he’s a completely different person to me than he was before we met up in that coffeehouse.

“I love him.”

I keep hearing the conviction in his voice when he said those three words to his parents. He’s so fucking brave, so strong in who he is. I knew that before, of course—the way he never did what his parents thought he should do—but I see it even more in him now.

He’s said the words out loud already, and I haven’t.

Eventually, I fall asleep too. I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake to him wiggling in my arms, and I can tell he’s getting up.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but I have to pee.”

“It’s fine.” I kiss the tip of his nose. I love you. The words shouldn’t be that hard to say. I’ve given up the most important people in my life for him. I should be able to say them.

The ice pack is warm by now and sitting on my chest. He takes it, then brushes the back of his hand against my face. “You’re bruised on your cheekbone, and not the sexy kind of marks like you give me on my ass.”

“You don’t think it’s hot for me to look tough?” I try to joke.

“It’s not funny. I’m angry they blame you and not me. It’s not fair. I—”

“Shh.” I lean in and press my lips to his. “I have to go to the bathroom too, and I want my little sub boy to hold my cock for me while I do.”

I don’t know if this is the time to slip into our roles, but I feel some comfort at the familiarity. While we’ve never done this specific action before, I’m reminding us both of our places and maybe silently asking him if he’s okay with it. Still, I have to admit that for the first time in my life, there’s a quiet voice in my head that’s suddenly unsure of this thing I’ve always needed. When someone you love looks at you like you’re trash under their feet, it’s hard not to start seeing yourself that way too.

“Please, Sir. I would love that.”

“Good boy,” I reply, testing the words on my tongue again. It’s such a strange dichotomy—I feel unsure about using them, yet angry at myself for feeling like that. I know there’s nothing wrong with this, but my head is a mess.

Since he’s on the edge, Jay gets up first. We go into the bathroom downstairs, and he kneels and begins opening my jeans. I don’t watch him while he does, instead looking at myself in the mirror…at the purple bruise on my cheek and the dimness in my eyes.

“I’m done, Sir,” Jay says, and I realize he has my jeans open, and he’s actually pulled both my jeans and underwear beneath my ass without me noticing.

I move over until I’m standing in front of the toilet, Jay still on his knees. He grabs ahold of my soft cock, aiming it at the water, and waits. It takes a moment for the pipes to start running, but eventually the first squirt shoots out. Jay moans deliciously beneath me, and I can’t deny the heat that shoots through my body. It’s impossible to control with him.

My flow evens out, and he adjusts the angle. He really is breathtaking, watching me with rapt attention as if everything I do fascinates him. As if I’m this precious thing to him in a way that’s completely foreign to me.

When I finish, there’s a drop at the tip, and instead of shaking it off, he asks, “Can I, Sir?”

I shouldn’t say yes. Jesus, what would John think if he knew? My eyes squeeze shut as I try to push those thoughts away.

“Sir?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine. Yes, you may.” I open my eyes and watch as Jay leans in, tongue lashing against the head of my cock, licking the piss there. He sucks the head into his mouth briefly before releasing it.

“All clean.” He beams up at me, light in his eyes that is contagious despite my dark mood. He is so proud of himself. He really does need this the way I do. What’s more beautiful than two people fulfilling parts of each other in the most honest and raw way? What’s more beautiful than trusting each other so completely, giving ourselves to each other, and making each other feel accepted and loved for parts of ourselves that others would look down on?

And as hard as it is, as much as I doubt myself now, I can’t let myself lose this, I can’t let us lose it because deep down, I know it’s beautiful. We’re beautiful.

“Thank you, sweet boy. You did such a good job holding my cock for me.”

He smiles, making my heart thump wildly against my chest. “Thank you, Sir. I have to go too.” I nod, and he stands. Once I pull my clothes up, I swat his hands away, open his jeans, and push them down beneath his ass too.

“Face the toilet.” He does, and I stand behind him, holding his cock the way he did mine. He gasps, then melts back against me, giving me his weight. “I can do this for you too. Standing up, I’m more in control, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Sir. I like doing it from beneath you. It’s like I’m serving you. But when you do it standing behind me, it’s like I’m giving myself to your control still. Does that make sense?”

I smile, nuzzling his hair, knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, that a part of me isn’t broken at the loss, but the boy in my arms is mine, and I’m not willing to let him go. “Yes. Perfect sense.”

I hold his cock while he pisses and shake it off afterward. Once he’s dressed again and our hands are washed, Jay asks, “Can I cook dinner for you?”

It will be the first time. On the surface, it feels like such a simple question, but I can see the need in his eyes…and also the insecurity in how he wrings his hands, the expectant way he watches and waits for an answer. “I would like that,” I reply, which earns me another of his heart-stopping smiles. “How about I do some work while you cook? I can go into my office or bring my laptop into the kitchen.”

“You can go into your office, Sir. That’s fine.”

We head our separate ways. I pull up some accounts I need to work on, but all I do is stare at the computer screen, this whirlwind day wreaking havoc on my thoughts.

“You’re not abusing my son.”

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

I try to focus on work again, looking at numbers that start to blur…and it takes me a moment to realize I’m crying. When was the last time I’ve cried? I know I have at some point, but I can’t remember. I’m sure I did when my mom passed.

I swipe at the tears, but they keep falling, one after another, wetting my shirt and getting on my desk. My chest aches—it feels like something sharp was shoved into the middle of it and is being twisting around.

Memories flow like a movie in my head. Walking together at our high school graduation, playing little league together, his parents taking me to practice when Mom didn’t show. His dad teaching me to throw. Being the best man at John and Callie’s wedding. JT’s birth. Being there for John when his father passed away, John being the first person I told when I lost Mom and how he rushed to be by my side. Laughing in his room growing up, the way he squeezed me tight and told me he loved me when I admitted to him I’m bisexual. John crying to me when they decided to stop trying to have another baby. The cabin we own together in Asheville, where we go every summer to spend the weekend together just us. Trips there with Jay and Callie throughout the years.

Our weekend away is coming up. What’s going to happen then?

I love you, you’re my brother wrestles and tangles with Get the fuck out of my house and You hit him, and I hit you.

I let the sobs break free, thankful I closed the door and Jay can’t hear, giving myself a moment to grieve before I wipe my face and shove all that hurt deep inside me, to those places I like to pretend aren’t there.

“I love him…” This time it’s Jay’s voice I hear, and while the pain will never go away, it helps.

I give my attention to my computer again, forcing myself to work until there’s a knock at my office door.

“Come in,” I call out, and the door slides open.

“Dinner is done. I hope you like it. If you don’t, you have no taste.”

I chuckle, something about the twinge in his voice telling me this is more important than the joke he’s trying to make of it. Jay shifts on his feet, watching. He seems nervous. Unsure. About cooking dinner, or is it something else? With the day we’ve had, it could very well be.

“I know I’ll like it.”

Jay had set the table in the dining room rather than the small one in the kitchen, where we normally eat. The long eight-person table has never and will never be filled with that many people. Two plates rest on it, one at the end and the other next to it on the side. There’s a bottle of wine and two glasses, as well as water, which he knows I like to drink.

I inhale deeply. I don’t recognize all the scents—it’s a mixture of spices that blend together. “It smells incredible.”

“It’s nothing special. I just mixed a whole bunch of stuff together, testing out some ideas. It’s chicken. I baked it in some wine, then broiled it for a few minutes at the end. I doctored up some roasted potatoes with similar seasoning, then my secret broccoli hack that I will never share with anyone.”

“Not even your Sir?” I grab him and pull him close. Being this way with him, seeing him, eases something inside me.

“No, not even you.”

I tilt his head up, holding his chin, and kiss him. Jay opens his mouth for me, lets me taste the wine he must have drunk earlier, kissing as fast or as slow as I want. He’s putty in my hands, but he’s also strong and confident. He knows what he wants and who he is, maybe even better than me. It’s another reminder that we’re doing what we both need, what we both want, and that’s okay.

“Can we skip dinner and just have sex?” he asks when I pull away.

“Are you kidding me? My boy worked so hard on this meal. I insist on enjoying it.”

We sit down together, Jay watching me before he takes a bite. It’s clear he’s waiting to see what I think, craving my approval because the food in front of me is more important to him than I would have realized before today… Maybe more important to him than he realizes. It makes sense, though, when I think about his excitement at the restaurant, the way he wanted to pick what I ate and how he’s spoken about the chefs letting him play around in the kitchen sometimes.

I cut into the chicken, watching juices spill free. Its skin has a nice crisp brown to it, but the inside is moist. Jay doesn’t take his eyes off me as I try his dinner, the flavors of maybe paprika and brown sugar, along with more that I can’t place, bursting on my tongue. “This is incredible,” I tell him, and his pupils expand.

“Is it really incredible, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

I grin. “It’s really damn good.”

He beams again. “Taste the potatoes…and the broccoli…” When I cock a brow at him, he amends, “Please.”

I do and love it all. I make sure to tell him often during the meal, and each time, Jay nearly floats out of his chair.

“What if we did this at least one night a week?” I ask when dinner is over. “If we have time, we can do it more, but I would like you to cook for me at least once a week, different recipes. And I’m also going to try and come down to the restaurant more as well.”

Before I realize what’s happening, Jay jumps from his chair and climbs onto my lap. I scoot the chair back from the table to give him space, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and mine around his waist. “You make me so happy. You always know the perfect thing to say and do to make me feel accepted and valid. It’s like you know what I need before I do.”

“I’m not perfect. I’ll get things wrong and make mistakes, and I expect you to tell me when I do.” I push the hair off his forehead, try to find my words. “You make me happy too. I want to be who you need, maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, because your Sir loves you.”

His eyes fill with tears. They spill over, racing down his face toward his addicting smile. “I love you too. And no matter what happens, we’ll be okay.”

I take his mouth, kissing away his salty tears. Somehow, the words we’ll be okay sound more believable when they come from him.