Chapter Twenty-One
My heart feels so frickin’ light, I’m almost afraid it’s going to take shelter in the clouds. Dinner with Colton went so well, I didn’t even feel like the mediator I intended on being. What made it cute was that Morgs and Nikolas came too, apparently figuring Colton could use some support as well.
We ripped off the heavy stuff like a Band-Aid, tackling that first. Father and son officially came out to one another. There were happy tears all around the table.
Evan also had been worried about a note he’d found in Colton’s bedroom, when he was at home. Colton told him about his plans to run away. Evan was relieved, because I guess the tone of the note alluded to suicide a bit, but Colton assured his dad that wasn’t the case at all.
I’m glad to hear that, too. I worry frequently about suicide rates among kids his age, and even more so among queer youth at his age.
Colton promised that he would reach out to either Evan or me, if he ever felt that way, but continued to reassure us that he was just looking to get out of Ternbay.
Not only did he think his family wouldn’t accept him, but he still misses his mother immensely—and there, he is surrounded by a constant barrage of memories which he didn’t feel like he could talk about without upsetting Evan.
The only reason he wanted to stay was because he felt he needed to protect Nikolas. Nikolas protested vehemently, stating that he could fight his own battles, though he does appreciate Colton’s adamance. Like a truly supportive partner, he wants Colton to put himself first.
Then, Evan assured him, much to both their surprise, that they would be accepted—by their family, at least. Everyone else, they could work through together as a united front.
They planned to do the same for their avoidance of discussing anything to do with Miranda.
They agreed to not keep her memory locked away in a proverbial box.
Colton beamed with pride from his father’s assurance.
Finally, Evan admitted to Colton that he was looking to start dating again, and was floored when Colton literally did a celebratory football dance in the kitchen, as if he’d just scored a touchdown.
Then, Morgan looked at me with a Cheshire Cat grin.
She nudged my shin underneath the table and mouthed ‘with you?’ to me.
I gave her a subtle nod, and she beamed, mouthing ‘yay!’ back at me.
By the end of the meal, we were all around the table, sharing stories just about…
I don’t know, life? It felt just like a blended-family meal, which is ridiculous since it’s far too soon to know where any of this could go.
Whatever, I sat there soaking up every moment like a thirsty sponge regardless, because it just felt so right.
Evan eventually presented Colton with his birthday gifts.
He signed Colton up for driver’s ed, and then also bought tickets for Colton and Nikolas to go to a Patriot’s game this fall—so they could have a proper date, finally.
Colton was so excited, he practically launched himself over the table to hug his dad.
Luckily, I had my phone out, so I caught the embrace on camera, though neither saw me.
I might send it to my mom and see if she can turn it into a watercolor painting.
That way, they can have that moment immortalized forever.
It was so heckin’ touching, seeing father and son finally making real progress.
It’s stuff like that which makes doing what I do all worth it.
Only after the kids left did I start to feel a little uncomfortable, because the hungry look Evan was giving me from across the table—and that I alone was the banquet—rendered my khakis just a touch tighter in the crotchal region.
“Would you like to stay the night?” I hastily ask, flushed by how adolescent it sounds now that I’ve said it aloud.
Evan’s eyes flit up the stairs at Morgan’s still closed door.
“Kai, uhm, he took off sometime while we were out getting groceries for this evening. He texted to let me know not to expect him back for a bit. I’d like to make sure your facial swelling subsides. ”
His reaction to the sting has gotten significantly better, but, ya know. To be sure, I’d really like him to stay the night. That’s the only reason. Yup.
Actually, you know what? That’s not the only reason…
“Oh, and the sheets. I uhm, I’ve been testing them out. Ten out of ten, recommend. You’re more than welcome to sample them as well.”
Evan’s grin turns wolfish, as he stands to grab plates and racks them in the dishwasher. “That offer still open to practice on you?” he asks me.
“Pretty sure you’ve already figured out what you need to know, based on your last round of research,” I tease, drawing in close to him, distracting him from picking up my culinary mess. “This can wait, Evan. How about you let me join in on the practice tonight?”
He nods, tugging me upstairs and into my room.
As soon as the door is shut, he whirls around on me and crowds me back into the door.
His rough hands come up to grab the sides of my jaw, his long fingers curling around to the back of my neck.
His hot mouth engulfs mine, and I’m reduced to weak knees and muffled whimpers as he kisses me senseless.
“Clothes. Off,” he hums on my lips, between nips and sucks.
Easier said than done, because he’s pressed up against me, rutting his hips against my pelvis.
He helps by tugging at the button on my shorts, and I shimmy out of them.
His big hand comes up to cup me through my briefs in no time.
I arch my neck, the back of my head hitting the door with a thunk against the hollow wood.
“Oh—ungh—yes, Evan,” I hiss, finding that my hips are hitching into his warm palm as if they were autonomous.
“No lace this time?” he asks, panting. His chest heaves laboriously.
“I don’t like it,” I breathlessly admit, accepting the strip he’s licking up my neck before he buries his face in and sucks hard enough it’ll be sure to leave a mark.
Crew necks in the summer—it won’t be obvious, right?
When that statement has had a chance to sink in, he pops off from going all vampire on my neck and regards me with confusion.
“I should be more specific. I don’t like how they look on me. I only wore them that night because I was out of clean clothes, and I don’t like going commando with a ton of kids around. Feels icky.” I shudder.
“There was another pair in your hamper, though. I saw them that night I did your laundry. A red thong and some lingerie-looking top thing…”
Flummoxed, I rear back, pushing him back slightly. I don’t even own such a set. All I have are those lace, black shorties that Evan saw me in. I can’t see spending all that money on kinky clothing I won’t even look good in.
“Those aren’t mine,” I tell him.
“But,” he stammers, looking even more confused now, “Kai caught me in the laundry room looking at them, and he said they were yours.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head, stepping around Brooks and plunking down on the foot of my bed.
Evan sits down next to me. I’m feeling a little exposed, sitting here with no shorts, while he’s still fully clothed.
Though, even through his pants, I can see he’s still sporting a pretty decent erection.
“He lied, probably to get a rise out of you. Those are his,” I tell Evan.
I leave out the part where I know this because Kai wore those when I topped him, which wasn’t very frequent at all.
Though I am vers, I definitely prefer to bottom.
I know, I know… obvious, right? It’s true, I give off BBE—big bottom energy—but hey, what can I say?
When you've got a bubble butt as iconic as mine, it tends to be the star of the show. Cue the internal eye-roll.
Evan can see right through my blatant omission, however. “You know they're his because you’ve seen him in them, haven’t you?”
I nod, my lips pulling in a grim line between my teeth.
I’ll admit, I do see what Kai enjoyed about it, because I distinctly recall being jealous of how he looked in them.
It was nice to see his big, muscular form tucked behind the dainty lingerie.
Bet it’d be even better seeing it on Evan.
It’d be hot as heck to see all that masculinity contrasting against the lace and mesh—though I’d never dare suggest it to him.
“Did you like it?” he asks.
At first, I don’t know how to answer, but the question seems to come from a place of genuine curiosity, not jealousy. I nod again.
Then Evan throws me a complete curveball. “Order me some.”
I gape at him. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“I’m serious,” he reassures me. “I would, but I don’t have a phone until I get to town again. I prioritized getting back here first. Order me whatever you want, and I will pay you back for it.”
“But-but,” I stammer, “would you even want to wear something like that for me?”
He shrugs. “If you like it, why not?”
I shake my head. The grin on my face probably needs one of those ‘wide load’ signs you see on the road. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
He shakes his head. “First time I’ve been told that.”
I scoff.
He insists, “I’m serious. Now, where were we?” He tugs at the hemline of my shirt. “Off.”
I eye him up. “Same. Although, I don’t know about you, but it’s been muggy all day, and I want a shower.”
There’s that wolfish grin again. “Let me soap you up, and you have yourself a deal.”
“Geeze, you drive a hard bargain,” I tease, playfully rolling my eyes as I strip off my shirt and make my way into my attached bathroom.
It’s only when Evan steps up to me, unapologetically naked as the day he was born, that I realize that perhaps I didn’t think this through enough.
In a dated shower the size of mine, things will be a little, well, snug.
I’ve never really had to consider it, since I’ve never had anyone in here with me before.
I definitely won’t have enough room to get on my knees and show him where my real talents lie.
Evan chuckles, studying it. “More of that forced proximity, I see. Just like the tent.”
Without another word, he lunges at me, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his back, and pulls me into the stall.
Our hard cocks slot together like cozy neighbors as I reach around him to spin the dial, turning the water on.
Evan kisses the wind that’s forced out of me, when the water initially starts off chilled, and then my back is pressed against the wall.
I peel my lips away and rest my forehead against his. “Evan, I want to take care of you this time, too. Can I?”
He nods, his tongue darting out to moisten his lower lip. He hikes me up again, readjusting his grip under my thighs to support me better. “Your turn to use me now,” he grants me permission I’ve so desperately wanted.
My free hand—the one that’s not currently around the back of his neck, bracing myself up—wraps around both our cocks, and I give us both a lazy pull. He groans, and the intensity of his neck kissing amps up, until I’m sure he’s leaving marks.
“You have such soft hands,” he murmurs between kisses. “Feels good.”
That gets me to start stroking us in earnest now. His hips start rocking, our lengths slipping against each other as the water rains down over us. Frotting has got to be one of my favorite things. I dare say I enjoy it more than penetrative sex—which, I know, weird, right?
I don’t know what it is, but I just love that there’s no prep-work involved.
You can just spontaneously feel horny and frot it right out.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a collaboration involving penises, booties, and mouths too, but there’s just something so frickin’ sexy about the feeling of two dicks in your hand grinding against one another.
Sometimes, it’s just all you have time for, when you’re worried about getting caught with your ex.
But we’re not thinking about he who shall not be named right now, we’re thinking about Evan.
Evan, who wants to take the time to do this right.
Evan, who has taught me that it’s okay to draw this out longer, and enjoy myself.
Evan, who has prioritized me right from the get go.
I work my magic on both our slippery cocks—I squeeze and release at different intervals. I swirl my palm around our shafts, and whenever I see a bead of precum from either of us, I swipe my hand over top—adding a delightful twist that has Evan keening into me.
“Jesus, Brooks,” he moans, kneading his fingers into my asscheeks. “So fucking good, baby.”
There’s only so long that he can hold me up, and so when I feel his grip start to give way a bit, I start to pick up the speed a little. Evan’s hips buck, keeping pace with my stroking. His moans and groans pick up as well. “Mmph—baby, yes—oh fuck, just like that.”
My hand is now working at a furious pace. Gliding up and down both our fully engorged dicks. I’m rewarded by guttural groans and sighed, ‘Oh, fuck yes, fuck yesss’s.’
He steps forward, pressing my back against the cool wall again, hitching me back up higher, but his control is clearly faltering.
He’s not alone. My own strokes are getting sloppier, and my pace isn’t matching his thrusting hips anymore.
Under my heels, I can feel his glutes rippling and tightening.
“Fuh—Brooks,” he pants, “I-I’m gonna, ohmyfuck. Baby, I’m gonna come…”
“Do it,” I urge him. “Paint my chest.”
“Ughgawd,” he growls, “that’s so fuckin’ hot.”
I grin, giving our shafts one last good tug before I feel him go taut in my palm. His chubby cock starts pulsing alongside mine, and hot streams of his cum decorate my bare chest. He practically roars through his orgasm, his chest heaving as he empties himself all over me.
The sight of it launches me into my own orgasm, since I’d been so close to already tipping over the edge myself. I continue stroking as I work through my own release.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs in my neck, where his lips are, once again planted there as if it’s their docking station whenever he’s in need of a me recharge. “You’re goddamn perfect when you come, you know?”
I feel his lips form into a grin on the side of my throat. He kisses again, then chuckles. “I don’t even have to see your cheeks to know how pink they are. I can fuckin’ feel them.”