Chapter 22
Deejay
Somehow a whole week passes without talking about the thing going on between us. Matt might have been actively avoiding being alone with me—I did the same thing—but also, it was just a busy week. Besides everything already on my schedule, Alex and Eren both started teething again, and Jasper got into a fight in school with one of his classmates because the boy who’d been his friend all year was tired of Jasper talking about Cary. Plus, no one can find the Chaos Eater nor the person targeting Matt. It’s just sort of been a nightmare week on top of the stress of the looming conversation with Matt.
Oh! And there’s the matter of Robbie’s species.
Yesterday I got a call from Robbie’s Humanities teacher, a man whose name I recognize because he holds the title of the most powerful Diviner in the US. I didn’t even know he worked at the high school. Chanda Marduke, known by the title Chanda Ntu Waamelika Muajamu, implied that he knows what species Robbie is, but our conversation was cut short before he could tell me. He promised to call back, but when I went to bed last night, my phone had died at some point, so I woke up to a voicemail from his teacher telling me he would call today.
I haven’t been particularly concerned about Robbie’s species. I figured he knew what he was, but Chanda implied that Robbie didn’t and honestly the kid just has so many other things to worry about, I figure species typing him can wait. As long as we know what he is, registering with the Hub can wait until he’s ready.
However, when the Ntu Waamelika calls, only a foolish man ignores him. Thus, the box on the fridge taunts me as I sip my coffee, staring at my phone. Robbie still hasn’t opened it, but that’s his prerogative. He doesn’t have to open it, though I wonder if it contains the information about his species. Chanda mentioned that knowing his species could help Robbie with his problem, and I suspect the problem Chanda referred to Robbie having is the issue with the bully.
Robbie came home with a split lip yesterday but refused to talk about it. I patched him up, but I am concerned about him. He doesn’t deserve this shit and I want to advocate for him, but he refuses to let me. I’m the ruler of this domain, but I can’t help him if he won’t let me. He hasn’t learned he can trust me and lean on me yet, and I just haven’t had the time and opportunity to show him I can be a helpful part of his support network.
I pull my attention back to the schedule for today, noting that tomorrow’s schedule includes a family dinner with everyone who still lives in Houston and my sons who live in San Antonio. They’ll drive up in the morning and stay until the evening. They usually try to make it on the first Sunday of the month; Orson started closing his bar on the first Sunday of the month last year when Colt complained about never seeing him. It makes my heart happy that my older sons care enough about the family to make that kind of effort to stay involved. I think it helps that Orson, Kirk, and Colt are all biologically half-brothers from the same mother: my bitch of a sister, Melody.
And moving on.
Today is Matt’s birthday, and while I write out the list of things I need to get today, he stumbles into the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee before plopping onto the chair across from me. “Morning,”
he mumbles, taking a sip.
“You look like you can use a few more hours of sleep,”
I note. “It’s still early, you can go back to bed. It is your birthday. Sleeping in on your birthday is acceptable,” I tease.
Matt shakes his head. “I’m good,”
he grunts, not responding to my teasing.
“Ok.”
I give up because he’s not quite awake enough to tease and go back to writing out my list. I hit a snag when I get to his birthday present, tapping my pencil on the table as I grab another sip of coffee.
He reaches over and slides my planner toward himself, reading what I’ve written. He often memorizes my schedule, so I’m not surprised he’s taking the opportunity to look at it. After a moment he taps the spiral-bound planner. “Family dinner?”
“Some of my older sons will come for dinner: Fraser and his wife, Kirk and Orson. Jansen occasionally makes it, but I think he’s in Florida this week. We have family dinners the first Sunday of the month. You just missed it last month when you arrived.”
It’s hard to believe he’s been here for a full month already, and it’s also hard to believe that he hasn’t been here forever. He just fits so well into this family.
“Cool,”
he frowns, staring at the page.
“What’s that look for?”
I ask, curious.
He pushes the schedule back to me, narrowing his eyes slightly when he looks at me. “It’s just a weird feeling that you have a whole family of guys older than me that you call your sons.”
“I offered,”
I teasingly point out.
His expression goes blank as he replies with all seriousness. “Son would not be a good definition of how I feel about you.”
My heart thumps in my chest as butterflies make an appearance in my stomach. “Uh—”
I falter, unsure what to say.
I am not prepared for this conversation!
Matt leans toward me on his elbows, cup clutched between his hands. “I like you. I am attracted to you. I tried to ignore it, I tried to end it, but I can’t. You hit the right buttons for me, ok? If you want me to pretend my feelings don’t exist, I can do that. I know I’m not someone who you’d probably consider a potential partner—I’m young, ugly, and headstrong. I can move out, get my GED, and work. I would also start my own petition for guardianship over Cary. It’s not a threat, it’s just me protecting what’s mine, including my heart. I’ve thought about this, I can make it happen, I can do this and then you wouldn’t have to worry about me, my feelings, nor my attraction.”
I guess I was the only one unprepared for this conversation. Matt has really thought about it and I hate it. “Fuck no.”
I want to yell, but I don’t want to risk waking anyone before we finish this conversation, so I whisper at him emphatically. “Fuck no, never. I don’t want you or Cary to leave. You are mine! I don’t feel parental toward you either, and I sure as fuck am not giving Cary up. You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions—you can get your GED and I’ll support that; you can go to work and I will support you; but I will fight you around every turn if you try to leave and take Cary with you just because this attraction between us is slightly awkward because of the traditional norms for humans. We aren’t human; we don’t live, act, play, or love by their rules. According to non-human law we are both consenting adults and that’s as much concern as we need to give it!”
He stares at me a moment longer before speaking again. “How do you feel about me if not parental, and to what are you consenting?”
I sit back startled by his question, having leaned as far over the table as I could to give him my piece. “My life is dedicated to raising my boys. From now until I die, I will be adopting and raising my sisters’ sons. That’s everything I want, and I have made it happen and will continue to make it happen for the next three hundred plus years. If you want to know how I feel about you, it’s a matter of sexual attraction and romantic loneliness. I am fulfilled in my life, but you—you show me what it’s like to have a partner in my mission. You tick all my boxes for physical attraction, mental stimulation, and emotional stability. I’m hesitant to start something with you. You’ve got so much happening right now and for the next however many years should you choose to go to college and graduate school. I wouldn’t want a relationship with me to hold you back from reaching your dreams. What if you graduate and decide to go to school out of State? Everything is so up in the air that I wouldn’t want to tie you down until you figure out what you’re going to do with your life.”
Matt stands up, heading for the coffee pot, grabbing the carafe to bring back to the table. “Let’s make one thing clear, no matter what else happens, I am where Cary is until he’s done with school,”
he warns me as he comes back. “That’s fourteen years that I will be living wherever Cary is. If I want to go to college, I will do it here in Houston; if I want to get a job, it will be here in Houston because we’ve cleared up where Cary will be: here with you. I am not waiting fourteen fucking years and then some for you figure out whether we can explore a relationship together. I’m in it, so get any idea of me leaving before Cary is done with school out of your head—that isn’t fucking happening.”
I should have realized that already. Of course Matt wouldn’t leave his brother. His species has some infamous commitment tendencies: they mate young, as young and often younger than Matt, and they stay with their mates for life. They work tirelessly at their jobs; if they work with humans, they often work one job until they’re forced to leave simply because of their slow aging and longevity. Honestly, I’m lucky that I caught the eye of an Obsidite from the happily-ever-after perspective: they are staid in their ability to commit.
“Ok, I get it. So, then there’s nothing really holding us back from letting things take us where they will,”
I conclude, maybe a little nervous, full up on butterflies: couldn’t eat another bite, thank you very much.
Matt stands up again. My eyes track him as he stalks to my side of the table, then he grabs my shirt and pulls me to my feet, stooping as he draws me up and taking possession of my lips.
Oh. My. Fuck.
My entire body melts into that kiss, into his strong arms, into his show of strength and silent declaration of possession. He tastes like coffee and petrichor; his tongue tangles mine eagerly, but with so much skill I can’t stop myself from plastering my whole body to his, wanting more and more. He grabs my ass and pulls me up with him as he straightens. I wrap my arms and legs around him, clinging to him as he squeezes my cheeks. It feels so fucking good to be touched, I completely lose myself in the moment until he breaks the kiss, holding me with one arm and taking my face in his other hand. “I’m not a passive partner—things will go where I direct them,”
he corrects me before taking my lips again.
The promise in those words sends a thrill of excitement through my whole body. My cock was already straining the limits of a chubby, but his words, actions, scent—everything about this—makes me go completely hard and aching in a few racing heartbeats.
I helplessly grind my cock into his rock-hard abs, thoughtless of anything but the immense pleasure of this friction. His rumble of approval as he helps me push the limits of ecstasy reverberates through me, setting off the aching pleasure and relieving spasm of my orgasm. I groan into his mouth as my body goes taut.
This is me, a twenty-nine-year-old ruler of a demesne and father of thirteen, cumming in his pants over a kiss.
Classy.
“What the fuck?”
Colt’s furious voice startles us both.
We simultaneously turn our heads to look at him.
He’s standing in his pajamas, fists balled up, and so angry his face is red.
Matt gently sets me back on my feet, turns me to the kitchen door, and pushes forward. “I got this,”
he murmurs softly. “Go clean up.”
If I wasn’t sporting a wet spot in my pajama pants, I wouldn’t leave, but I trust Matt to handle things until I can talk to Colt, so I leave him to it.
Still.
How embarrassing.