Chapter 29
Matt
My stomach growls noisily because I didn’t get to finish my lunch. I was so pissed, I couldn’t have stomached anything, but spending time with the twins helped. Now everyone who came has left, the littles are in bed, and yes, I put them to bed and kissed them all goodnight—fuck anyone who thinks I’m too young to be a good partner or father or whatever the fuck their problem with me is.
The villa is big enough to get lost in, and I don’t even know where to look if I wanted to talk to Deejay, but I don’t know that I’m ready for that. He just stood there and let them talk to him like that and I hate that he put up with it.
I pull out leftovers from today’s lunch and throw whatever I find on a plate, too hungry to bother reheating it. Don’t care that it’s cold, I just need food. I’ve had a significant loss of blood and I shouldn’t have skipped a meal, but I’ll take better care of myself now that I’ve cooled off a bit. Four gift bags sit on the breakfast table that I swipe out of the way as I sit to eat. I notice on one of the bag’s someone wrote my name on the label. Fuck. I promised Cary birthday cake today and I wasn’t even around for it—if it happened.
Shit.
I look around and spot the partially eaten cake on the counter, covered by a layer of plastic wrap and breathe a sigh of relief. I shouldn’t have disappeared for the rest of the day. I should have sucked it up for Cary at least, he deserved to be able to celebrate my birthday with me. Damn. I feel like a shit parent now.
I didn’t know I was allowed to be Cary’s dad even though I’ve been his acting parent since he was born. It feels weird, but right for him to call me ‘Daddy’. Deejay and I have had a month together learning how to be his co-parents. Even though I was reticent at first, we communicated a lot when it came to his care, so when I stepped up to help with his other sons, the division of labor came easily. As far as I can tell, the only other person he’s ever left the kids with is Den before he went to college. He mentioned once that he’s never even asked any of the older sons to babysit for him, which is shit. They haven’t involved themselves at all in the grind of parenthood and don’t understand what it takes to run this household as smoothly as he does, on top of the responsibilities he has as the ruler of this demesne. He did not deserve the reaming that his ‘sons’ gave him, and it pissed me off to see them give him shit for his choices.
“Hey.”
Think of the devil…
I look up as Deejay sits across from me. “You ok?”
I ask around the bite in my mouth. His aura isn’t its usual bright yellow, it’s much more mellow and tinged with a dull brick red at the outer edges.
“Fuck. It’s hard to tell. On one hand, the rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. On the other, those fuckers did not apologize for their behavior. Amelia told me she would talk to Fraser, but he’s a stubborn old soul. In a few years this won’t even be an issue, but right now I am expecting to get calls from all the away guys tomorrow. I wish they’d done a better job welcoming you.”
“I’m not really concerned about that. Their opinions don’t matter. I’m concerned that your relationship with them is going to flounder for a while because of me. I’m concerned that I will have to put this,”
I gesture between his body and mine, “on hold until they get over their problem with me. I’m concerned that your priorities and mine are not equal. I have concerns, Deejay, but none of them relate to how they welcomed me.”
Deejay reaches over and takes the hand I have resting on the table, threading our fingers together. “First, their opinions are shit. If I made it a habit to modify my behavior based on popular opinion, I wouldn’t have twelve adoptions under my belt including five adult adoptions. I didn’t even find Jansen until he was twenty and only by accident because he happened to get pegged on my family tree when he did a DNA test with one of the family tree sites that I am on. So, let’s just forget them for a moment. They have no bearing on what is going on between us and if my relationship with them does stand on rocky ground for a while, the fact is, we’re family and sometimes families fight for a while, but we’ll figure it out and everyone will get over it. Now, what about our priorities are you concerned about?”
“Honestly, I thought I would take a back seat to your family and I didn’t want that. Cary has been my most important person for four years. For the first time since he was born, I feel like I can do something selfish, for me, and know that it’s not going to take anything away from him. I want you, and I know having you is going to do nothing but add to his life, but more importantly, it will add to mine. I want to do that, be that for you too. I want to add to your life and be the place you can be selfish too. I want to claim your family and love them, and I don’t want to second guess myself when I tell them they are mine and I want them to be able to say with confidence that I am also theirs.”
Well. That came out in a mess of word vomit, but there it is, laid out and vulnerable—everything I want right now.
Deejay squeezes my hand firmly. “This is your family. You belong here and you can claim them and eventually all of them will claim you as well. Kendall informed me, after I chewed everyone out, that he likes you. Right now, the older ones not living with us are being stubborn about you, but the ones living with you all claim you. Except for Colt. That boy is angry, but he’ll come around. I think punching you and realizing how very stupid it is to hit an Obsidite might have shaken him. You scared the shit out of him.”
I frown at that. “I didn’t intend to make him scared of me. I just didn’t want him to think it was ever going to be ok for him to raise his hands to the littles.”
“He knows that isn’t acceptable behavior. I’m fairly certain that kind of fear is healthy. He should be very concerned about consequences when he is angry; having a healthy respect for those consequences is what makes the difference between an angry kid and an angry kid in jail.”
I get that. Angry kids with respect hit trees, angry kids with no respect hit people and destroy property.
This is the kind of communication that we have—healthy, normal, talking about what matters, getting on the same page...just being family. I love this shit as much as I love the tension and excitement before a good fight.
“Did you actually chew your sons out?”
I question skeptically. I have never seen him lose his patience with the family.
“I called them all fuckfaces, including Colt. I have never called any of them anything like that, but in my defense, I was really pissed.”
I smile at him altogether too pleased to hear this. “I was worried you’d let them steamroll you.”
Deejay snorts. “Fuck no. If anything, I might curse their asses with a rash that won’t go away until they apologize.”
I chuckle at that before bringing his hand to my lips and kissing it. “Thank you.”
“What’d I do?”
he asks, cocking his head a little, cute as fuck.
“Everything.”
If I listed out all the things I am thankful for because of Deejay, we’d be here all night. At the moment, I’m just thankful that he isn’t giving up on us because of a bump in the road.
I stand up and take my plate to the sink, stacking it with the rest that need washing tomorrow. When I turn around Deejay is pulling the plastic wrap off the cake. I grab two dessert plates and set them at his elbow. He puts a square on both plates then sticks a candle into one and lights it with the lighter in his pocket. He holds it up, the corners of his lips turned up as he looks up at me. “Make a wish.”
I don’t even have to think about that. I’ve made the same wish since I turned fifteen. I close my eyes and blow out the candle as my heart recites the same words I’ve held there since I realized I needed them.
I wish for wisdom.
The plate clatters to the counter as Deejay’s arms come around my neck, pulling me down to his lips. His mouth molds to mine, then opens for me as I pull him off his feet, grabbing his spectacular ass. He wraps his legs around my waist, clinging to me in the desperate way that I love. I go from zero to sixty in about point two seconds as I delve deep into his kiss, exploring the mouth, the taste, the tongue that’s becoming familiar. I squeeze the firm globes of his ass, excited by every part of him I get to touch.
He grinds into me, reminding me of the last time we made out in the kitchen. As much as I want this, I don’t fancy getting caught again, so I pull back, grinding him harder into my abs with a quick flex of my arms. “Bedroom?”
I offer with a suggestive smirk.
“Yesss,”
he hisses.
I pull him up, surprising him as I toss him over my shoulder. I stalk out of the kitchen, eating the stairs up to the third floor two and three at a time. When we get to the top, I let him down so we can pass by the nursery quietly.
He giggles as we get the bedroom door closed. “I feel like a naughty kid sneaking my boyfriend into my bedroom,”
he laughs as he pulls his shirt over his head.
Fuck, he’s beautiful. My mouth waters for a taste of him. I want to own every part of him, learn the places that make him moan, taste his cum on my tongue, hear his cries as I bring him to his knees and make a mess of his insides. The sight of his pearlescent skin in the moonlight streaming through the veranda doors haloed by the shine of his joyous, excited, wanting aura brings me to a standstill. I just have to look, to watch as he sheds his clothes, happy smile on his face, skin glowing, eyes shining. Everything about him captivates me; I am completely beguiled by the enchanting allure of this man.
He stands still, looking at me in surprise, cock jutting out ready for my hand, my mouth, all my attention. I quickly pull my shirt over my head, disliking the momentary blindness that steals the view of him away from me. I toss the shirt away and let my shorts fall, cock hard and leaking. “I’m going to put my mouth on your cock, Deejay. Come here,”
I beckon him.
Deejay comes like a moth drawn to flame, or maybe that’s me. It’s difficult to tell when we crash together, lips and mouths, hands and cocks. Somehow during the frenzy and dance of our kiss my back ends up against the wall. I lift him back up my body and turn, pressing him into the wall. I let my mouth wander down his slightly scruffy jaw to his neck, where I suck a small kiss mark into his soft skin. He groans, exciting me that I’ve found a sensitive spot for him. I work one side, then the other until he’s begging for more. “Please, please, please. Make me cum.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I lift him, forcing his legs over my shoulders and swallow his cock, holding him aloft as I lick and kiss, suck and slurp. My balls draw up at the taste of him, the heft of his cock on my tongue, the length that slides down my throat as he moans and whines clutching two handfuls of my hair, the noise he makes—all of it turns me on so much. I adjust my grip on him so I can palm my aching cock. His grip on my hair tightens as he starts thrusting desperately into my throat. I use the precum leaking from my cock to wet my fingers, then trace the tight hole begging for my finger.
“Please, fuck, please. I’m going to cum. I want you—fuck—inside me.”
I pull off him, licking up the underside of his cock. “Condom? Lube?”
I question.
“Nightstand,” he pants.
I get a firm hold of him and swing him off the wall, tossing him onto the bed. He bounces and scrambles for the supplies from his drawer as I crawl over him, kissing every inch of the skin that draws me. He hands me the small bottle. “Have you ever—?”
I arch a brow at him. “Have you?”
“Not for years.”
I take the condoms with an arched brow. “Are these new?”
Deejay snorts a laugh and nods. “I bought them yesterday.”
Assured we aren’t using expired products, I grin at him. “Leave it to me, then,”
I assure him, covering my fingers with a generous slick of lube. “Ready?”
I ask as I run my fingers over his hole, spreading the lube.
“Yes,” he moans.
I dip my finger in his heat, causing him to gasp. Needing to taste the noises he makes, I work my finger in and out as I cover his mouth with mine again, consuming every whimper and moan and the keen he makes when I rub his prostate. I work another finger in, both hating and loving the wince that elicits from him. “You ok?”
I murmur into his neck, suckling that sweet spot that makes him desperate.
“Yesss. More.”
I pump my fingers in and out until I feel the loosening of his anal ring. I watch his reactions as I work, spending time exploring his sensitive spots, discovering that his right nipple is far more sensitive than his left, that he enjoys the sensation of my tongue on the tips of his fingers, he likes my teeth on his hips.
While I explore his erogenous zones, I work his hole until I can fit three fingers and the tip of a fourth in him. He begs and pleads as I work that last finger in. “Please, please, fuck, inside me, please!”
Satisfied that he can handle me, I draw my hand out of him, opening the condom and sliding it on before slicking my cock with another generous portion of lube. I line up with his hole and press in, popping through slowly, drawing back and pressing in further, teasing him until I am seated to root. Deejay looks up at me, panting and breathless, beautiful and needy.
“Good?”
I confirm.
He nods. “Move.”
I smile, getting a grip on his hips before drawing back. He goes wide-eyed, as he keens uncontrollably. I push back in causing him to arch nearly off the bed. I push his legs up, over my arms, trapping him with my grip and pull back again, thrusting back in smoothly. He cries out, grabbing my wrists, as I start fucking him in earnest. He gets louder with every thrust, so I stick my clean fingers into his mouth, muffling him a little.
I love his noises, but I would not love accidentally waking anyone up with them. His wide eyes, shining brightly with the excitement in his aura, stare up at me in absolute shock as I rock into him, working my hips for his pleasure. His hand slaps on my wrist, pulling my fingers out of his mouth and pushing my hand to his cock. I grip it firmly, pumping it in time with my thrusts, spreading his precum with each pass over the head. He bites his own fingers, grunting, moaning, panting until his eyes squinch up, his entire body tenses and he shoots off, crying out loudly. I quicken my thrusts, pistoning into him until my balls draw up and my orgasm rushes through me, in jet after jet of shared ecstasy.
When I open my eyes and slide out of him, he gasps, staring at me. “What is that?”
he demands breathlessly.
I groan in my throat and pull the condom off. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask, though I knew he would inevitably notice. “Give me your hand,”
I tell him.
He puts his hand in mine and I guide it to my cock, helping him feel the hard bumps that appear on my cock when I get hard. “It looks like any other dick when I’m flaccid, but when I get hard, I have these lines of bumps. I’ve been tested, it’s not an STD, I’m clean. I don’t know what they are, but I’ve had them forever.”
“Obsidite anatomy, probably? I don’t know any to ask, but it’s likely. And also, how fucking lucky am I?”
He huffs as he explores my stiff cock. “These feel amazing inside me,”
he assures me.
“Keep that up and they’ll be inside you again,”
I warn him, the pleasure of someone else’s touch keeping me hard.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,”
he smirks, tossing another condom at me.
“Fuck,”
I groan so damn happy I could kiss him.
So, I do.