Chapter 18
RAFE
The morning after Christmas begins the same way Christmas Day did. With kisses and orgasms. I’m not sure whether it’s hotter to frot in bed as a means to wake up or in the shower when we’re slippery and wet.
His hand around our dicks with just the right amount of pressure has my eyes rolling back, even as we come down from our orgasmic high and lean heavily against each other. I slump against the cold tile wall, bringing Brent with me.
“So hot,” Brent grunts, his nose pressing against my neck. His other hand runs over my ass. “I want to ride you, Rafe.”
I shudder, pulling him closer. “If I could get it up again right now, I would. Two orgasms in twenty minutes is my max for a bit.”
He nips my skin, raising gooseflesh all along my spine. “Tonight?”
“Definitely. I’ll fuck you all night, Brent. This sweet hole will be mine.” I dip my fingers between his cheeks and press against his hole. His muscles twitch against my touch.
Brent releases a puff of air, his hand flexing around our softening dicks. I have a feeling that once I get hard again, I’m going to be hard most of the day in anticipation of fucking this man.
Eventually, we push ourselves up and wash between stolen kisses and hands brushing over each other.
The stolen touches continue as we dry off and dress.
I push him against the wall by the door before we leave my room and kiss him deeply.
It’s apparently been long enough between orgasms that my dick chubs. Yep, going to be a very long day.
As soon as we leave my bedroom, Brent sobers. His uncle and family arrive in a few hours. When I told my mom about encouraging Brent to invite his uncle over to spend some time celebrating with us, she was very excited to support it.
I haven’t hidden that family is incredibly important to me. That’s how I grew up. Family is everything to my mom, so I knew without a doubt that she’d find a way to make sure that there was room.
She stopped me last night before we headed upstairs to tell me that Marietta and Candice were moving into Rice’s room with him, Annie, and baby Leah.
Another of our cousins’ young kids will have cots in their parents’ room as well.
That makes room for Brent’s Uncle Ellsworth and Uncle Zaiden in one room, and then their daughter Lorelei and fiancée.
Their son would sleep in one of the studies on the hidden Murphy bed.
Plenty of room.
Brent, being Brent, is still worried about taking up too much space, though.
Taking from someone else. I can’t help but wonder how he was made to feel growing up.
Like he took up too much room? Was he only ever allowed his bedroom for personal belongings?
Never allowed to sit at the kitchen counter and study or at the dining room table to build blocks or color?
Not for the first time in the last couple weeks, I wish I’d have known Brent as a kid. I’d have liked to steal him from that shitty situation. It doesn’t sound like he’s had much of a home at all.
“Where are your uncles coming from again?” I ask.
“He said they’re only six hours north. They’ll be here before lunch,” Brent answers as he looks at the fountain in the courtyard.
It’s not running. While it doesn’t get below freezing for too long, it does freeze now and then, so we empty the water from the pipes through the winter months.
It also gives us time to have it cleaned and serviced.
But the fountain itself is something of beauty all on its own.
Carved by hand, it’s filled with pagan symbols and nature.
Interestingly, it’s primarily of Dionysus, Pan, and grapevines.
Curious, since it was built and installed before there was a vineyard on the property.
Perhaps the fountain is the inspiration for beginning the vineyard.
“Was that brought over from England, too?” Brent asks.
I study it for a minute before shrugging. “I’m not sure. I can ask.”
Brent shakes his head. “The painting in the room with the tree? And the mistletoe? The one I was looking at when you kissed me?”
“Mhm.” Good memories.
“Was that what the castle looked like in England?”
“More or less, yeah. It was commissioned once it was already moved here, and I think they either forgot or lost a shipment of paintings. I don’t know.
So it came from memory as it was depicted to the artist. We don’t know for certain if it’s embellished, exaggerated, or if that’s what the landscape actually looked like. But it’s a likeness, all the same.”
“It’s crazy to know that this place stood on foreign soil just like this,” Brent says, looking around. “It’s in such good shape.”
“They built shit to last back in the day. That’s not to say we don’t take care to maintain the castle at all costs. Because of our attentiveness, it should last another couple of centuries, at least.”
“I can’t imagine it’ll ever fall.”
I grin. “It all depends on how we raise each generation, right? If we don’t raise our kids to care about our heritage or they don’t pass that on to theirs, that’s when neglect settles in.”
“That’s kind of a metaphor for life, isn’t it? If we don’t teach the generation after us to be good people, to care about each other and the environment, then it all turns to shit. As we’ve seen throughout history.”
“Nothing breeds faster than hate. It’s easy and doesn’t take much thought.
It’s the epitome of monkey see, monkey do,” I agree.
“But yeah, exactly like that. It’s our responsibility to make sure my nieces love our home, business, family, and everything as much as we do.
We need them to take pride in everything we do, not just because we tell them to, but by seeing how we take pride in our family.
We need them to genuinely care and want to carry on the same care.
We can’t make them care. That has to come from them. ”
Brent nods as he continues to examine the courtyard. The stonework. The lead glass windows. The architecture. The decorations.
“Can I ask you about the contracts?”
“The marriage contracts?” I clarify.
Brent nods.
“Sure.”
“What’s in them? Enfield and Xavi said they removed the part about kids.”
I laugh. “There are a lot of things, some of which are defunct and out of date. The kids’ thing specifically states that the first kid should be had by the third year of marriage.
Sometimes there’s naming nomenclature or tradition passed down, as was the case with my father.
Sometimes surnames don’t follow the male but the female, depending on the family.
There can be a minimum number of children to be had. ”
“Wow,” he says.
“Yep. Then there are other things, such as one of them spending the thirty days before their wedding at the other person’s house, either with or without the family.
Not necessarily their family house, like this, but part of their property.
This is the time they spend getting to know each other personally.
There are usually some lines about where they’ll live, how often they visit patriarchal members of the family, how the kids will be schooled, and where they’ll spend holidays. ”
“That sounds incredibly restrictive,” Brent says, frowning.
“It is, and it’s not. These things are negotiated beforehand so everyone’s best interests, wants, and needs are accounted for.
Enfield’s situation isn’t actually very typical.
I bet if we asked Xavi, he had a big part in designing the parameters of the contract from his side.
His family took into account everything that was negotiable and those that weren’t—such as the gender of his partner.
Enfield didn’t want any part of it, so his parents did what they thought he’d like best or defaulted to what Xavi asked for. ”
“So all these decisions are things you’ve talked about prior to the contract.”
“Yep. In reality, it’s kind of like speed dating, right? All the biggest, most important things are laid out right up front. Before you meet. This isn’t actually a hardship. You’re going into a situation knowing more about your future spouse than some partners do for years into their relationship.”
“Then why have the contract?”
“Well, I think in part for tradition. It’s something we’ve practiced for generations.
It has a proven track record. There are very few divorces in my family.
I can probably count them on one hand. The contracts serve the purpose of aligning compatibility, don’t they?
Another reason is partially in response to the rights to shares in the family business.
Trusts and estates and whatever. You can hand over a whole lot of shit to a person once they turn eighteen, and there’s a big probability that they’ll waste it or lose it by the time they’re thirty.
The contracts provide protection for the family’s interests, as well as making sure the person has reached some level of maturity. ”
“I’m not sure marriage and kids equate to maturity,” Brent says.
I grin. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll let you read my contract one day, and you can see what they’re all about.
While you can’t exactly measure maturity or test for it, there are definitely markers within the contract that need to be met satisfactorily before certain things are released to that person.
Yes, it sounds restricting and controlling, and maybe off-putting, but I don’t hate it in the least.”
“Why did Enfield fight it so much?”
“He just didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want that life. He should have had that right.”
“You’re also kind of forced into it, by the sounds of it,” he points out.
I grip his hand on top of the table. “I’m not, actually.
I want the contract. I just don’t want it now.
I like the structure. I like knowing that my partner and I are on the very same page for all of life’s major events.
Having all those details laid out ahead of time means that so much of my attention is freed up to dedicate to spending time with my partner and our family.
It’s about making memories, focusing on the business, exploring life. ”
“I’m not sure whether it sounds good,” Brent says.
“I’ll be curious about your opinion once you’ve read a contract. I have a copy of mine on my computer at school. I’ll let you look at it when we get back.”
“You have a copy?”
“Yeah. I’ve been making notes since I was sixteen. Last year, my dad and I got all my details laid out. It means that my parents have guidelines to follow when they’re looking for a partner for me.”
“I’m confused. I thought you weren’t ready.”
“I’m not,” I say, laughing. “My mother is jumping the gun, and yeah, I get frustrated with it. But I also know that all these girls she chooses are compatible on paper. There’s comfort in that. Even if I’m not ready for that future.”
Brent nods, his lips pressed together. “You think she’ll start setting you up with guys, too? Why does she always choose women when you said they’re fine with your bisexuality?”
I tilt my head. “I don’t know. Guess I never thought about it. Might be proximity. Might be availability. Might be a lot of things.” I squeeze his hand. “It’s not disapproval, Brent. I promise you that.”
He sighs, giving me a smile.
“Brent.” We turn to look at my mom standing in the door to the courtyard. “Your uncles are here.”
Brent smiles. “Thank you.” I follow as he gets to his feet, and we drop our plates into the wash bin on the way by. He slips his hand into mine, and I grip him firmly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Take a breath,” I murmur.
“I haven’t seen my uncle since I was a teenager,” he says. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“Did I push you into inviting them when you didn’t want to?”
He meets my eye. “No. You’re pushy, but I know you’d have backed off if I really didn’t want to. That’s how you are.”
“Wait. I’m always pushy?”
He turns and presses his body against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing me soundly.
Everything inside me blazes. “Not in a bad way, Rafe,” he says.
“You push me to encourage me to do things I’m frightened to do.
If it weren’t for you, I’d probably hole up in our room and never leave for anything other than class.
I’m safe in our room. You give me courage to view the world as you do and not through the dark glasses I’ve worn since I was a child. ”
I hug him tightly. “I don’t want you to hide. Maybe on some level, I knew you were.”
He kisses me again, and it lingers for a long time. I only push back when my dick decides this is a good time to get hard. Keeping his hand in mine, I bring him down the hall toward the front door.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the two men are in their late forties or early fifties. They’re both graying. One has a lot more laugh lines than the other, and he greets us with a big smile. The other is far more reserved, but he comes toward Brent first and wraps Brent in a hug.
I take a step back to watch them, and it’s the kind of hug you know they’ve been waiting on for ages and ages. Years and lifetimes have separated them. Hate tore them apart and kept them separated. But finally, they can reunite and reestablish the bonds of family.
We all watch them, maybe thinking the same things I am. This is what family is about.
He takes a step back, and the man I think is Ellsworth cups Brent’s face in his hands. There are tears in his eyes, but I think they’re happy. “You look just like him,” he whispers. “It’s frighteningly uncanny.”
Brent smiles. “It’s said that you look more like your aunts and uncles than your parents.”
Ellsworth sighs. “I’ve missed you, son. Thank you for inviting us to spend the holiday with you and your new family.”
Brent glances at me, meeting my eyes, and I smile. Definitely his new family.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Brent says. He takes a step back and looks at me. “This is Rafe. My… boyfriend.”
Ohh. That’s a thrill I wasn’t expecting. To hear those words out of his mouth about me is kind of intoxicating. I wonder if I can get him to say them again.
“This is my Uncle Ellsworth. My Uncle Zaiden. And my cousins Lorelei and Preston.”
I shake all their hands. Lorelei drops her hand to the waist of the petite woman next to her. “This is my fiancée, Tam.”
Brent stands at my side again, and I wrap him up just as Lorelei holds Tam. For a minute, we remain in the entry looking at each other.