Bonus Epilogue
Kent
“Poppy! Did you get books from the library?”
One of my favorite parts of being a principal is having access to the school library. On Fridays, when I know it’s ‘Poppy Day’ with Lia, our thoughtful librarian Patti loads me up with her favorite picture books that the students overlooked during the week. I take them home for the weekend and return them Monday morning so they’re ready for any eager new eyes.
“I have so many books for my sweet girl.” I point toward the bag bursting with books, and Lia runs over and begins flipping through them.
“A unicorn book! Oh, this one is a LEGO princess book … Vincent!” Lia shouts toward the living room.
“What’s this about a LEGO unicorn?” Vincent saunters into the room, his gray joggers low on his hips. A hint of his taut stomach peeks through as he lifts his arms for a hug from Lia.
Lia bolts over, leaps, and he’s holding her. With some age-appropriate conversations, she understands Vincent loves her, but needs space and likes to be spotless. Naturally, she simply wants Vincent to be happy. After a quick squeeze around his neck, she tells him, “Okay, you can go wash up now.”
Vincent chuckles, kisses her cheek, sets her down, and heads for the kitchen sink.
“Poppy got books. There’s a unicorn one and a LEGO one, but it’s not a unicorn LEGO book,” Lia says, following Vincent like a lost puppy.
I thought Vincent’s novelty would wear off for Lia after some time, but much like adoration for anything pink, purple, or sparkly, it hasn’t. She stands next to him as he scrubs and stares up at him, wearing a huge grin.
“Oh, got it,” Vincent says, drying his hands on a paper towel.
“Well, which should we read first?”
Lia’s face contorts with thought. I know nothing tops unicorns for her, but she also knows how Vincent feels about LEGO.
“How about Poppy reads me the unicorn book first, and then you can read me the LEGO one? It has a princess in it. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course. I love princesses.” He boops her nose.
“I thought you might,” she says, skipping to the couch.
While I read the book about the unicorn who wants to be a horse (and the horse that wants to be a unicorn), Lia snuggles into my side. Her hand rests on my stomach, and she keeps her gaze glued to the pages as we read. When the book ends, she crawls up and kisses my cheek. “Scratchy.”
“Really?” I ask. “I thought it was soft.” I tug at my beard, and the silky hairs are smooth on my fingers.
“It’s perfect,” Vincent says with a wink. His eyelashes flit and my heart trips.
“Now, the LEGO book!” Lia scoots over and snuggles into Vincent. She keeps her hands on his sweatshirt, and he appears fine with her so close as he reads about the LEGO princess rescuing her animal friends from the evil LEGO witch.
“That was a good book. LEGO and a princess.” She stares up at him. “It’s like they wrote that book for us.”
Lia bats her eyelashes, and Vincent smiles. She is beyond smitten with him, and watching her weasel her way into his heart warms mine.
“Now, sweetie,” I say. “I was thinking I could take you for a hamburger and ice cream for lunch and leave Vincent to work on his new LEGO build.”
“What is it?” Lia’s over at the table, hands behind her back, investigating.
“It’s a big city,” he says, joining her.
“But you built Paris.”
“Yes, this is London.”
“Oh … ” Lia’s eyes bulge at Big Ben, already soaring toward the ceiling.
“But what happened to Paris?”
“I took it apart. Most of these pieces,” Vincent picks up a bowl full of tan bricks, “are from Paris.”
“So you recycled it?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Lia, let’s give Vincent some time alone. We’ll be back later, and you can see what he’s done.”
“But I want to help.”
Vincent has come a long way since the first time he showed me Paris, but allowing my five-year-old granddaughter to help him build the sweeping London skyline might push things too far.
“Do you know how you could help me?” Vincent kneels, making eye contact.
“How?”
“On construction sites, there’s someone called a foreperson. They don’t do any of the building, but they sit and watch and make sure everything goes smoothly.” He pulls out a chair, scooting it away from the table and turning it toward the table. “Would you like to be my foreperson?”
“Yes!” She plops down, and I fetch a notebook and some crayons for her.
“Why don’t you draw what you see?” I suggest. “It might help Vincent see it from your perspective.”
“Oh, smart.” She adds, “He might need my drawing to help.”
“I’ll make us some sandwiches,” I say.
“No. We need hamburgers and ice cream,” Lia says. “Vincent and I are okay if you go get them.”
Laughter pours out of me because she truly is precious. I catch Vincent’s gaze, and he nods.
“Yes, we’ll be fine. I’ve got my foreperson to supervise me.”
Lia smiles, nods, and starts drawing. Comfortable Vincent can handle her in this state, I grab my keys and head out to pick up lunch.
When I return, Vincent and Lia are exactly how I left them. He’s added to the Tower Bridge, and she’s now coloring the sketch she drew.
“Who’s hungry?” I shout from the kitchen island.
“Wash up, Vincent,” Lia says.
“Thank you!” he says, heading for the sink. “My foreperson is keeping me in line.”
After we eat, Lia supervises Vincent for another hour, taking a break for a story from me about a girl learning to ride a bicycle. When we reach the end, her yawning cues me.
“Sweetie, I think I’m going to take you home. Your parents will expect you soon. It’s almost dinnertime.”
“But how will Vincent work without a foreperson?”
“I’m not sure,” he says, picking her up for a goodbye hug. “But you’ll have to help me the next time you come over.”
“You did a good job,” Lia tells Vincent. She kisses his chin, and my chest fills with a sense of warmth and tenderness, touched by her sweet gesture.
“So did you.” He gives her a peck on the cheek at the door. “I’m going to jump in the shower.” Vincent gives me a wink.
“I’ll be back with dinner.”
When I return from Gillian’s, I hear the shower running and “Songbird” blasting from the bathroom. I’m not sure how long he’s been in there, but after dropping the takeout in the kitchen, I head in to investigate.
Standing in the bathroom doorway, I study him. He’s in the shower, standing outside the cascade of water, scrubbing. I can’t tell if he’s caught in a loop, but when he catches me watching him, he flashes a genuine smile, and I’m confident he’s okay.
“Be out in a minute.” Vincent’s hands glide down his lower back. He’s turned, giving me a view of his beautiful butt. “Why don’t you hop in after me?”
“Is your mood … ”
“Peak.” He cranes his neck and flashes his teeth.
I tug my shirt over my neck and grab my toothbrush. Juggling the brush in one hand, I struggle to unbutton my pants with the other, finally managing to shimmy out of them.
Vincent laughs in the shower, watching me trip and almost fall. The urgency of his words prods me to hurry. When I’m naked with a clean mouth, sensing he’s almost finished, I hop in. In the cramped shower, we’re squeezed tightly together, barely able to move.
“Hey,” he says. Without taking my eyes off him, I can feel his cock poking against my thigh.
“Hey.”
Vincent leans over and kisses me softly. “Don’t take too long.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever washed so quickly, but I’m careful to clean well. If I want Vincent to enjoy this truly, I need to be spotless.
Toweling off, I enter our bedroom, and he’s on the floor. Kneeling near the foot of the bed.
“Why are you on the … ”
“Sit.” Vincent pats the bed.
I do as I’m told, resting on the comforter, legs spread, my cock already springing to life at the thought of what he might be planning.
“Let me be your good boy,” he says, “and you enjoy the view.”
He’s positioned me directly across from the floor-length mirror. With his knees spread, his ass sways in the reflection, and I’m able to glimpse his beautiful hole.
“Fuck, smoothie, you’re all worked up.”
“It was all the building.”
“Noted,” I say, followed by a quick gasp as he swallows my dick down to the base.
“There we go.” I lower my voice because I know the timbre drives Vincent wild. “Take my dick like a good boy.”
Vincent pulls off and runs his tongue up and down my shaft, licking, and then says, “I want to suck you dry. Is that okay?”
“Um, yeah. More than okay.”
He swallows me again, his tongue working the tip and doing that swirling he knows makes my thighs shudder. “Good boy.” My hands grip the bed. “Good boy. Just like that. Work my cock, smoothie.”
He cups my balls, adding slight pressure right underneath.
“Vincent, if you keep doing that, I’m going to come quickly,” I warn.
He pulls off, saliva dripping from his lips. “That’s fine.” He wiggles his ass. “As long as you’re not too tired for this.”
“Never.” My eyes are glued to his plump rump shaking as he taunts me.
“I want to, can I, while I … ” I stammer, the sudden need to taste him overwhelming me. Vincent doesn’t move. He lets me have my way. Such a fucking good boy.
I’m up. Moving behind him, pushing him against the bed, spreading him wide, burying my beard between his cheeks.
“Fuck, Kent.” His body juts forward at the contact, but there’s nowhere for him to escape, and he quickly pushes back, fucking my tongue with his heavenly hole. He tastes sweet. Fresh. Raw. All mine. Sometimes, I simply need to devour him from the inside while I come.
The limitations of my mouth push me to slip my index finger inside him. Nestled next to my tongue, I push past it, delving deeper.
“Fuck, Kent. You’re going to make come if you keep at this.”
I want to tell him he’s a good boy, and I love him more than I ever thought possible. The need tickles my throat, but my mouth is preoccupied, so I flick my tongue and swirl my finger deeper, eliciting moans from Vincent’s sweet lips. There we go. My Vincent. His ass twitches, and I reach under to take over stroking him. His hard cock leaks precum, and I have to work hard to jerk him while eating him out and fingering him with the other hand, but he’s worth every ounce of effort.
His plan was for me to come first, but the tables have turned. He’s so over the moon, I’m going to get him off first, and then he can drain me like a good boy.
“Right there.” Vincent pushes back. My tongue, as far as it will go, doesn’t move, but my finger brushes his prostate, and he shivers.
“Right there. Right there. You’re … Oh fuck, Kent.”
His hole contracts around my finger and tongue as he shoots warm cum into my palm. I keep stroking him but do my best to catch as much as possible—no sense wasting it.
When Vincent’s body stills, I pull my tongue and finger out and say, “Such a fucking good boy for me.”
Vincent lays his head on the bed and sighs with the most decadent sound—pure pleasure.
“Give me just a minute,” he says in a tired, soft tone.
“Smoothie, don’t move. Just let me … ”
I take his cum, still warm, and slather it on my cock.
“This view. It’s not going to take me long.” My free hand slaps his ass with a thwack and I pull at the cheek, exposing his hole. My finger slides back in, and my orgasm creeps up, provoked by the view and the slippery help of his cum.
“Can I … ” I eke out, the gratification creeping up, slowly overtaking my body.
“Cover me in it.”
And that’s it. Vincent’s voice. Permission. His horny hole wide open for my finger, I move forward, my cock right at the crack of his ass, and shoot long ropes. The first eruption lands close to his shoulder blades, with the subsequent ones covering his lower back. The moment my dick touches his backside, I’m consumed by a wave of pleasure, heightened by the electric sensation of our skin meeting. When the last of my orgasm blankets him, I take my cock and smear it down his crack toward his hole.
“Be a good boy and don’t move.”
“Mmmh.” Vincent’s sweetness permeates the entire room.
With my thumb, I carefully guide my cum into his hole. He tightens around my finger, making my mouth water. The thought of tasting him … Me. Us. I can’t help myself. I lean over and lap it up with my tongue, our tastes mixing in my mouth like the most perfectly crafted confection. Once I’ve consumed it all, I continue giving Vincent his first clean-up with my mouth. His skin shivers, my beard tickling him, but he doesn’t budge.
“My delicious good boy,” I say, licking the salty sweetness from my lips. “Don’t move. I’ll get you a warm washcloth.”
Laying in bed, the smell of orange and honey mingles with the sharp sweetness of sex. Vincent’s head rests on my chest, and with each exhale from his nose, the hair on my chest blows. If my entire body could smile, it would be ready for a school picture right now.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For being you.” My hand caresses Vincent’s smooth head, and he lets out a half laugh. I know it will take time for him to fully embrace his unique perfection, but I will never stop reminding him.
He nuzzles into me, making tiny noises as he gets comfortable.
“Now, get some sleep, my sweet boy,” I say.
He pulls his head up, kisses me softly on the lips, and whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
In the room’s stillness, we lie motionless, anticipating sleep. Just as I’m about to doze off, I notice Sweetums curling up at my feet, completing our cozy family circle. With a feeling of utter contentment, I finally surrender to slumber.