ALEX #3
"Thanks for a bomb like this on my birthday. A life I thought was normal, built on a lie. From top to bottom."
"Son, I had to live with this every day, with the awareness that I cheated and lied…"
"Yeah. Make it all about yourself!"
Dad sits motionless.
I get up from the bench. Now is the moment to say it.
"Okay. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s late. I’m going to Bay’s house to sleep. And I want you to know that starting tomorrow, I’m living here. I’m eighteen, I can make my own decisions."
Only now does his hardened, pale face shift a little, his lips trembling slightly as he speaks.
"You’re living here? You said the earliest would be summer break."
"Yeah, but I’m moving it up. I’m staying here. I need to sort things out in my head, and right now I just need some space."
His eyes stay on me, and there’s a strange acceptance there, something almost out of character for him, because he usually has strong opinions, but now he just… lets go.
I turn and walk away, trembling inside.
Bay stands at the edge of the patio, staring into the garden, waiting for me.
When he sees my face, he knows immediately something is wrong.
Tears sting my eyes. I grab his hand and say, "Let’s get out of here. Tell your dad we’re not coming back, ask him to wrap it up and end the party."
We start walking, and when Bay passes his dad, he leans in and whispers something in his ear. I see worry on Lake’s face, guilt too, like he already suspects I talked to my dad and something went wrong.
Bay and I go inside the house. He watches me closely, but he doesn’t say anything yet.
The first thing I do is go to the bed, climb onto it, and wrap myself in a blanket.
Bay joins me, kneeling beside me and reaching out to take my hands, but I curl up even tighter.
"My dad lied to me my entire life. Max Strada wasn’t my father." And I give him a brief version of everything Dad told me.
Bay listens with intense attention.
"I want to stay here with you. I don’t want to go back home. He pissed me off. He pissed me off so badly!"
There’s understanding in Bay’s eyes.
"Oh, Alex, of course you can stay here. I’d only be happy about it. The real question is, do you want to leave it like this? You don’t want to talk to him again?"
A snort escapes me. "He could have told me earlier. I’m not saying when I was a kid, but he could have told me when I was twelve at least."
Bay gently pulls my clenched fists from under the blanket and slowly uncurls my fingers in his big hands.
"Alex, I’m not going to defend your dad, because he really did build all of this on a lie, but I’m convinced he believed it would be better for you.
And he must have felt betrayed in his own way, because Max planned to kill him and you, and you were innocent in all of this, so it’s hard for me to take any side here.
Everyone has something heavy on their conscience.
Max shouldn’t have tried to kill you. That’s evil. "
I go quiet for a moment, thinking through his words. He’s right. Max Strada had planned to kill his husband and me along with him. No denying it.
"You’re right, but that makes it even worse. For years I thought my almost-killer was my father. This is all so fucked up, Bay."
Bay wraps his arms around me, then shifts us so we’re lying side by side, pulling the blanket over both of us.
"It’s really shitty to find out something like this on your eighteenth birthday."
He holds me tighter against his broad chest, and in his warmth I feel the same comfort as always, the same calm.
I close my eyes. Bay’s hands stroke my hair with a slow, steady gentleness, and little by little I settle, because with him it’s easy, in his arms it’s good and safe and peaceful, and the shadows and the lies can’t reach me here.
I grab his hand and pull it to my chest.
"Touch me," I ask in a quiet, almost pleading voice. "I need it."
I want that brief escape and the comfort that his closeness can give me. He hesitates, a small crease forming between his brows.
"Are you sure?"
I nod, my hands lifting to circle his neck in a soft gesture, and his hand slides over my T-shirt in a slow, unhurried motion.
I arch beneath the slow journey of his fingers across my chest, a sweet, intoxicating shiver racing through me as they brush my nipples.
So good, so good, yes… I beg him silently with my impatient little jerks, my body trembling just slightly. All the unpleasantness fades away, drifts off, and Bay eclipses my anxiety like the sun dominating the horizon.
His lips meet mine, not in a rush, but intently, a kiss, then a retreat, his mouth landing on my cheeks, my temples, my neck, tracing damp paths along my collarbones.
I tug off my T-shirt, I want his lips on my swollen nipples. A needy moan escapes me as his mouth finally reaches them, sucking lightly.
My fingers dig into his hair, and I arch again as he sucks and nips at my sensitive nubs. Shivers ripple through me, forcing waves of blood down into my lower belly, and my cock stands at attention, prodding Bay’s chest.
I start pushing his head down, gently but insistently, guiding him away from my nipples. He knows exactly what I want, but he lingers, nuzzling against my chest.
I push and push, until finally, a whimper of impatience escapes me. Bay smirks.
Eventually, he takes mercy, traveling lower. His tongue flicks against my small shaft, nudges it with his nose, then his lips slowly envelop me, wrapping me in warmth and wetness.
"Yes…" I murmur, lifting my hips, my fingers weaving through his hair. I sigh, moan, whimper.
He gets to work; well, it’s not a demanding process in my case. I come easily, quickly, effortlessly… and I can do it often.
"Yes, yes, mmm…" I gasp, feeling pleasure rise inside me like a soaring bird. My cock stiffens like bone before exploding deep into his throat, flooding his mouth with whiteness.
Pulse after pulse, I release waves of ecstasy, my body trembling, nearly vibrating in rapture.
But the problem is, I don’t want it to end. It’s not enough.
"Will you nurse it for a while?" I whisper.
Bay nods slightly in a small, affirming motion. I sink into the warmth, my cock cradled in heat and moisture, relaxing for a minute, only to start hungering again.
My fingers dive back into his hair, pressing lightly, guiding the rhythm: slow, lazy, almost sleepy at first. I let myself rise gradually toward another peak.
Bay’s finger slips between my thighs, finding my little hole, stroking it gently, teasing, circling, pressing just slightly.
I shudder, and this time, I come even harder, but it’s not the end.
"Please… nurse him a bit longer," my voice pleading, needy.
Bay doesn’t stop, the cycle begins. I surround myself in a pink haze, letting myself float in it.
How good… how good.
◆◆◆
Muffled voices from the next room wake me.
Bay’s tiny house is divided on the lower level into three spaces: a bedroom, a larger living area that connects to a kitchen built along one wall, and a small bathroom.
I sit up, still dressed in the same clothes I wore yesterday, climb out of the bed and walk to the door, open it and find Bay in the kitchen talking to his dad.
I know right away they’re talking about me.
On the floor I notice several suitcases lined up. I stare at them, shocked.
Lake walks over to me and just pulls me into a hug, holding me tight.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart? Bay told me everything. Don’t be upset with him, I pushed him pretty hard to tell me what was going on."
Bay gives me an apologetic look, but I just shake my head to show him it’s fine.
"It’s not a secret anymore anyway, not after I learned it, after he finally let it out after all these years."
I shrug.
Lake steps toward the suitcases.
"Your dad was here early this morning, he said he understands how you feel and he wants to spare you the trouble, so he brought all of this for you."
He bites lightly at his lower lip, clearly uncomfortable.
"Oh, right," I say. "I told him I needed space, and he just threw me out of the house, great."
"I think he just doesn’t want to make the situation worse," Lake says quietly, though I can see he also thinks my dad’s behavior is strange.
He didn’t try to talk again, didn’t explain himself, didn’t defend himself, and most of all didn’t offer a real apology, he just put my belongings out of the house.
"Sweetheart, you’ll have everything you need here, you don’t have to worry about anything," Lake assures me.
Bay comes up on my other side and takes my hand.
"I make enough from my videos that we’ll have everything we need to live," he says, trying to calm me, his eyes searching mine to make sure I’m ok with it.
"Thank you," I whisper, "You’re my family now."
"We are, sweetheart," Lake says, wrapping me in an arm, and Bay wraps me from the other side.
We stand like that for a moment, and I feel a little relief, but I also know this is only the beginning of coming to terms with everything that crashed down on me yesterday, but I’m grateful they’re both here with me.