Chapter 16
Corvus
I did not get to stick to my routine.
First, we had to stop at a store, because Dalton didn’t have an appropriate jacket, or shoes for that matter.
Then, I needed to slow down so he wouldn't fall too far behind. I was annoyed at first, but when he started coughing, I begrudgingly adjusted my pace to his. It’s late, so the park isn’t as empty as it is during my usual runs, but fortunately the northern side of it, with its snow-covered woods isn’t as popular, so I still get to enjoy a decent workout, even though the pull-up bars are overrun by kids, and I can’t be bothered to wait for my turn.
Eventually though, following a lap around the lake, Dalton’s stomach grumbles so loudly it can’t be ignored, and I snort with laughter. “Is that also because of the smoke?”
Dalton huffs, steam like a cloud out of his mouth. “Oh, give me a break. I’m perfectly fine,” he claims as he bends forward, hands on thighs, catching his breath.
Do I feel smug? Maybe a little.
“There’s a hot sandwich truck parked nearby.
How about some breakfast?” I offer, leading the way down the hill.
It’s cold enough that the dirty snow doesn’t turn into slush, and I stretch, unzipping my jacket around the neck.
Strangely enough, after a few minutes in the park, my worries about the possibility of him running away have settled.
He follows me like a dog without a leash.
“Oh, fuck yes!” Dalton has to jog a little to catch up with me, but when he’s finally at my side, he…
slides his fingers between mine with such confidence and ease, I’m not sure how to react, torn between the instinct to pull away (this is a public park after all), and squeezing him back with the excitement of a schoolboy.
I settle on leaving my hand in his like some limp fish.
But my mind races.
He’s my fiancé. I came out to my family.
Should I not care what anyone in the park thinks?
Is it even like me to hold hands with anyone though?
Dalton is a means to an end after all. Then again, if it does bring me pleasure to hold his hand (does it?) then should I not do as I please?
Isn’t that kind of attitude desired from a Van der Horn man?
Dalton doesn’t seem to have any such qualms, because his smile only widens once we face the food truck menu. “Grilled cheese? Yes please.”
I choose to go with a more balanced grilled chicken and avocado on wholegrain bread, but it’s not like he is the one who needs to watch his diet because—well, because of what we’ll surely do later today.
It’s inevitable. We’re two attractive men with voracious sexual appetites.
At this point, it’s just a question of where we’ll fuck, and whether it happens before or after all that necessary shopping I need to do for him.
“Are you paying together?” asks the guy in the food truck, and I can practically hear Dalton taking a deep breath.
Of course. He doesn’t have any money on him.
But I ignore the moment of tension and nod, placing cash on the little money tray.
Dalton seems thoughtful as our food is getting made, and I can picture the emasculation drama unravelling in his mind, but I won’t start the subject if he doesn’t, and especially not in front of a stranger.
It does give me a few minutes to ponder our situation though.
Even if Dalton goes back to work, and I’m already giving it an ‘if’, he’ll be earning pennies in comparison to my income.
And as I watch him grab my coffee for me along with my sandwich, I realize I don’t mind.
I might be into him railing me, but that doesn’t mean I expect (or want) him to take care of me in other ways.
Hell, it felt good to buy him that phone, the clothes, the food, to be the one filled in on the details of his medical treatment or deciding what we do today.
I don’t expect the kiss on the lips that comes just as he puts the sandwich in my hand. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I sort myself out. For the other stuff too.”
My head’s an arid desert, but then comes the monsoon, and everything starts to bloom as my heart flutters in a way I might need to have checked out.
“You’re welcome, but… no,” I say, trying my best to not let my mind linger on the kiss Dalton has given me in public, and move on to what he actually said.
He stills. “No?”
I shake my head and move away from the truck, because I don’t need strangers listening to our conversation.
But I know this woodland well, and instead of following the paved route, I head toward a small path hidden by a fresh layer of snow.
The trees growing on either side form a gothic arch, and the snow covering each branch shimmers in the faint sunlight, as if someone’s arranged it there for a backdrop to our ‘romantic’ stroll.
“No. You’re mine now, and I won’t have you wanting.”
Ah, it feels good to say that. Power trembles inside me at this display of ownership.
Dalton gives me a shy smile, and I had no idea that was a facial expression possible on someone as shameless as him. Guess I still have a lot to learn about my fiancé.
“It’s just that… you know, I’m not a leech. I want to treat you. I want you to feel I can provide you with shit too.”
So adorably earnest. He really doesn’t play games. I should have guessed that by how he arranged the chess pieces.
“You are providing me with things I need already,” I tell him, bowing my head to avoid disturbing the snow on a particularly laden branch.
Dalton chuckles and blushes a bit as I lead him to a bench that’s been shielded from most of the snow by the outcropping of a dense bush. Once he realizes what I’m doing, he puts down his cup and clears the thin layer of snow off with his arm. Is it silly of me to find that charming?
“My dad used to say fighting is the only thing I’m good at in life, but I guess he couldn’t know just how in demand I will be when it comes to fucking.
” He winks at me as though it’s all a joke, but the reminder of his father’s existence makes my blood pressure rise, right before another wave of annoyance rushes through me as I settle down.
Boundaries need to be put in place right away.
“I don’t want you to waste your energy on other people.”
Dalton sits next to me, leaving no space between our thighs where they touch. I’m struggling with his closeness in public after so many years in the closet, but I’m too greedy for it to push him away.
“What?” he says and takes a big bite of his steaming sandwich.
There it is again, that choking feeling at the base of my throat. I put the paper cup on the bench next to me, worried I might end up squeezing it too hard.
It’s cold, but inside I’m burning, and there is no stopping this inferno now that Dalton stoked it again. We’re alone now, but this is a park, and anyone might just appear at the end of the path to watch us and listen to the tension in my voice.
I clear my throat. “I don’t want you to fuck other people.”
Dalton frowns, staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart beat faster. “Well… yeah. We’re getting married, right? We’re making a commitment.” He leans closer to whisper in my ear. “And I want to cream your pie in peace at some point.”
Now the burn spills to my skin, but I’m determined to pretend his words did not make me blush like a maiden, but my mind immediately follows his words, delivering images so lewd my hole quivers in response.
“I like using condoms,” I tell him, because cleaning my skin after sex is already a chore.
I won’t be dealing with cum drizzling out of me for God knows how long!
“And… well, I won’t be sleeping with anyone else either,” I say as if there’s been anyone not named Dalton on my radar since I saw those Grindr messages.
Dalton sighs, and I can smell the disappointment on him, but he doesn't voice it, instead nipping on my ear with his greasy lips. “Good, because I may seem harmless to you, but I wouldn’t be to anyone who thinks they can make a move on you.” As if to make that even clearer, he puts his leg over my thigh.
I should tell him off. For thinking he can threaten people for wanting me, and for displaying his claim on me like this.
Is it such a sin that I like it?
Hot breath creates a vaporous cloud between our faces, and just as he’s about to lean in, I lower my gaze to where we’re touching. “Someone could walk by.”
Dalton glances down the empty path. “I agree this area is too family friendly for getting freaky in the bushes, but… this is fine, right?”
My chest shouldn’t feel so tight, because, technically speaking, he’s right.
We’re not doing anything illicit, or illegal, but still, I feel uncertain about touching a man in a public setting.
I’ve been hiding my whole life, and that seemed the right thing to do.
Why would I change now, just because it feels good?
“I’m not quite sure,” I say and bite into my sandwich. It’s warm, and somehow even better than it would have been if I’d eaten it indoors. Or alone. “I try not to overthink it, but I know my father wouldn’t approve, and I guess I want him to be proud of me… wherever he is.”
Dalton slowly pulls back his leg, and I miss it already. Fuck.
“He wouldn’t have liked you being gay? Your family seemed surprisingly okay with it.”
I have another bite of my sandwich, even though my appetite’s dwindling. “I don’t think he would, no. He was a very… traditional man, and I kept disappointing him.”
A laugh escapes my lips, despite feeling sad rather than happy.
I try not to think about Father much, because whenever I do, guilt eats at me like corrosion through iron.
“Even if he accepted that I’m gay, he would want me to keep it private, completely on the side, and…
he would want me to become the kind of man he raised me to be. ”
Dalton frowns, watching me with all his attention. On the night I met him, I condescendingly judged that he could only keep one thought in his mind at a time, but now it seems that I am that thought, and I like it.
“And what kind of man would that be? Didn’t you take poisons on his command?
” He lowers his voice. “Are you not the one Van der Horn everyone fears? I know Damen’s dangerous, or that Remo and his baseball bat are lifetime injury-makers, hell, most of the Van der Horn men are people you tread carefully around, but you…
I saw you at the club or at the casino a few times and I used to think to myself that you’re as straightlaced as they come.
What else could your father have possibly wanted? ”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this. He’s practically a stranger, who ended up being my fiancé by accident, a man meant to die on Christmas Day, but when I speak, he leans in, eyes pinned to my face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single word.
Despite the power in his muscles, he doesn’t feel… dangerous. I should know better than to trust my impulses by now, but unlike Damen, Dalton doesn’t mock me. He doesn’t judge me. He’s just… here.
“Spread my seed, I suppose,” I say with a little grin. “Make more Van der Horns instead of—” I choke on the cold air, shocked I’ve almost said the complete truth without thinking. But it’s mine, and I won’t share it with anyone.
Dalton laughs and bumps his forehead against my temple. “Instead of getting bred?”
I really can’t have the sandwich right now.
I don’t think my stomach can take anything but coffee.
“There’s that,” I tell him, and before I can think, my hand slides into his pocket, where he’s keeping his own warm.
“What I’m trying to say is that there’s all this bullshit tied into what it means to be a man, especially one from my family, and it’s not easy to let go of that.
” Even saying this much feels like a breach of some unspoken man code.
Dalton squeezes my hand, his green eyes so warm they could melt the falling snow.
“I get that. One time my dad caught me with another guy in the middle of things, and later he said,” Dalton deepens his voice comically, “‘well, at least you were on top’, like he was giving me a trophy, or something. Fuck him, and fuck that. Made me feel lousy to hear his fucked-up comment. I tried the other side of the coin once, and wow, I couldn’t do that.
I appreciate every guy willing to let me in.
Though… other guys don’t exist anymore as we established, so I appreciate you.
The way you yield under me? Because you want to?
Because I make you want to? It’s hot. End of story.
You’re Corvus fucking Van der Horn. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Sorry, end of rant.”
I’m speechless.
I’m not immune to information. I know people like what they like, and that doesn’t define who they are, but I’ve never felt that pertained to me, yet here is Dalton, a man who is as masculine as they come, and he’s telling me he tried bottoming at some point? Just like that?
“Were you in love with that guy?” I ask, once again in the grips of petty jealousy.
Dalton looks as if he’s been caught red-handed but then smiles, rubbing his thumb over my hand. “Yeah… I was seventeen. Of course I was in love with him.”
I hate that stranger from Dalton’s past so fucking much. May there be lead in his piping and asbestos in his walls.
“Was he that first guy you were with? Sounds like you have plenty of experience,” I say, leaning closer and grabbing my coffee.
Dalton laughs. “No, I was fourteen and didn’t know what the fuck I was doing with my first. But won’t lie, I got a lot of notches on my bedpost since then. How about you? Who was your first crush?” he asks like it’s no big deal to talk like this to me.
Like we’re on a date in Central Park among gentle snow, not that he’s kind of my hostage.
Then again… what would I know? I’ve had some hookups, but I’ve never been on a date.
Isn’t this exactly what someone would say is romantic?
We’re having coffees, watching the far-off skyscrapers, my hand is in his pocket.
“My father’s bodyguard. I had many very… explicit fantasies about him when I was a teenager,” I admit as my head drifts to Dalton’s shoulder. “He was built a bit like you. But you’re taller.”
Dalton’s grin widens and he has another sip of coffee. “Okay. Now I know what job I want in the future. It’s so obvious now that I think about it.”
“My father’s dead. He doesn’t need a bodyguard,” I say, shaking my head, but my heart leaps even though this isn’t appropriate.
“There you are! I knew it!” My mother’s screech pulls me off the cozy cloud I’m on, and I jump to my feet so fast my sandwich rolls to the ground, falling apart at my feet.
“What… Mother? What are you doing here?”