Epilogue Declan
Epilogue
Declan
Eight years later
Colin is beaming in the seat next to me, holding the glistening golden statue in his lap.
“I’m so bloody proud of you, Shakespeare,” I mumble, pressing my lips to the side of his head.
There are tears in his eyes as he glances up at me. “How was my speech? Too cheesy? I didn’t forget anyone, did I?”
“No, you didn’t forget anyone. You were perfect.”
You’re always perfect.
“It’s about damn time,” he whispers to himself.
We’ve been here two times before, but tonight was finally his night, and I couldn’t be prouder.
I could relive that moment in my mind over and over again.
The sound of his name being called. The look of surprise on his face.
The way he turned to me first, pulling me in for a kiss while everyone cheered.
And then the way he found me in the crowd from the podium with tears in his eyes as he softly whispered into the microphone, “To the love of my life for giving me a voice and encouraging me to use it.”
I’ll definitely be sketching that scene so it lives on forever.
We come home to a quiet house and walk into our bedroom hand in hand. I watch as he places his new award on the dresser, admiring it with a blush on his cheeks.
I can’t remember the last time I saw him so happy. On our wedding day. When Will was born. And now this. It’s a collection of memories that make up a perfect life, and I can’t bear to think about how I almost missed this.
Coming up behind him, I kiss his cheek and let my lips trail down to his neck. Sliding my fingers under the collar of his crisp white shirt, I spot the silver chain of a very different collar.
I hum with delight when I touch it. He lets his head fall to the side as I pepper his neck with kisses and slowly unbutton his shirt.
Reaching behind, he slides his hands up my kilt, and his fingers graze my cock.
“I think my boy deserves a reward tonight,” I mumble into his ear.
“I’ve been so good,” he replies, slipping easily into the role that he plays in the bedroom. Although he wears the collar nearly all the time, we’ve both established that this dynamic only exists here.
In our normal everyday lives, Colin is not my submissive or my boy. He is my equal. My husband. My partner in life.
“And what does my good boy want as his reward?” I ask as I slide his shirt from his shoulders, revealing his bare chest and silver collar.
“I want my sexy Scottish husband to fuck me in that kilt.”
With an assertive grip on his collar, I growl into his ear. “I think I can oblige.”
I love watching the way he melts under my dominance. He’s wearing an expression of pure bliss as I take control, dragging him toward me.
Holding his hips, I grind my shaft against him, feeling a jolt of arousal course down my spine and directly to my cock. Even after all these years, this man still turns me on so much I can barely keep my hands off of him. I can still find ways to corrupt him and keep things interesting.
Colin and I don’t even make it to the bed. Moments later, he’s frantically tugging off his belt while I’m ripping off my shirt until the kilt is the only piece of fabric left on my body.
Reaching into the drawer, I fish out the lube as he bends over and white-knuckles the dresser.
This is a well-rehearsed dance we’ve done a million times before. And one I will never tire of.
For a while, I tease him, prepping his hole as I stroke his cock just to bring him to the brink and make him whimper and plead for his release. His trousers are pooled at his feet, so the reflection in the mirror shows only his bare chest and the silver chain around his neck.
“Fuck me, Dec,” he whines as he thrusts his hips back toward me.
“My needy boy,” I reply, bringing my cock to his hole. After drizzling more lube on my shaft, I slide easily inside of him.
He lets out a grunt as he looks up into the mirror, his eyes landing first on my face and then on my kilt.
I have to hold it up as I thrust inside of him, finding heaven in the way our bodies come together. Like they were made for each other. He is my home, and this is where I belong.
“God, yes,” he cries out as I pound into him harder. When he reaches for his cock, I swat his hand away.
“Not yet.”
Quickly, I pull out and spin him around. Wrapping my hands around his thighs, I hoist him onto the dresser, shoving his Oscar to the side. It’s not often that I have him in this position, but when I do, I remember the first time.
His first time and mine.
Not the first time I had sex, but the first time I felt what true connection was. The first time I felt someone else’s orgasm like it was my own. The first time I admitted to myself that Colin was it for me.
Dragging him to the edge, I plunge back inside him, this time staring into his eyes.
“Fuck, I love you,” I growl as I pound into him. Everything on our dresser rattles and falls over, and Colin has to cling to my neck to keep from being rattled too.
His cock leaks with cum as he throws his head back. “Don’t stop,” he cries.
“Are you close, baby?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you’ve earned it?”
“Yes!”
“Then stroke yourself, Shelby. Let me see you come.”
He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself as I pick up the speed of my thrusts. My hips begin to ache and a sheen of sweat covers my back, but I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Not when we’re both this close.
As my climax barrels into me, I feel Colin’s body tense and shudder, cum spilling all over his chest. We’re both moaning wildly before nearly collapsing and taking a grueling amount of time to catch our breaths.
Getting older isn’t easy.
When I pull out and stare at him, he’s wearing a fucked-well smile and staring at me with adoration in his eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Leaning in, I take his mouth in a tender kiss. I whisper the sentiment back, but we both know those three words will never fully express how I feel about him.
Colin and I take a quick shower together, and it’s like the exhaustion hits us both at the same time. These award ceremonies are like marathons. I swear they last longer each year.
Once we’re both clean, we put on our briefs and climb into bed. Sleeping naked isn’t a luxury we can afford anymore, especially not since Blaire will most likely be over bright and early.
When we climb into our bed, our cat, Romeo, nuzzles himself between our feet, and I drift off with Colin resting peacefully in my arms.
* * *
The room is bright when I feel something hard and much heavier than a cat bounce onto our bed, waking me instantly. Colin is still sleeping next to me when I peel my eyes open and spot a beaming five-year-old kneeling at the foot of the bed.
“Morning, Papa.”
I glance up to see Blaire tiptoeing into the room with her finger up to her lips—as if that would keep Will quiet.
“Congratulations again,” she whisper-shouts. “I gotta run.”
“Thanks again for watching him,” I whisper back and wave to her as she leaves.
As soon as she’s gone, I gesture for Will to come lie in the bed between Colin and me. He nods with a toothless smile as he cuddles in my arms. His messy blond curls drape over his forehead, matching Colin’s on the other side of the pillow.
“Shh…” I whisper. “Daddy’s still sleeping.”
Will wraps his arms around my neck, and as much as I wish I could let sleep take me again, I know there’s not a chance my son is going to let me have another moment of rest.
“Did you have fun at your aunties’?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies. “We made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”
That explains why he can’t sit still.
“Papa, can I watch TV?”
“Aye. Go on downstairs. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He dashes from the bed and scurries out to the living room.
A moment later, I hear a mind-numbing kids show playing on the telly.
Before I climb from the bed, in desperate need of some coffee, I roll over and press my lips to the side of Colin’s head.
He barely stirs, and I don’t bother him anymore.
I hope he sleeps in for a long while. He’s earned it.
When I enter the living room, I stop and smile at Will on the couch with Romeo on his lap.
“You hungry, kid?”
“Nope,” he replies, wiggling in his seat.
“You want some coffee?”
He only giggles in response.
“Just a wee cup?” I tease.
“No, Papa. Coffee is gross.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I can smell it. Can I have some chocolate milk though?”
In the middle of my coffee making, I pause and shake my head. Our half-British, half-Scottish boy has the strongest American accent, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. With the exception of summers spent in England or Scotland, and sometimes Italy, he was born and raised in California.
Regardless, he still is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen—with those freckles on tan skin, bouncy golden curls, and beautiful blue eyes.
When Colin first brought up wanting a child a few years after we were married, I thought he’d lost his damn mind. Me, a father?
I felt destined to fail. I had myself convinced it would be a disaster.
But Colin as a father? Something about that image in my head was enough to turn me on to the idea. And I’m glad it did.
We found an egg donor, with Blaire as our eager surrogate. Then suddenly, it was like everything happened so fast. We were lucky. Blessed beyond belief.
Nine months later, William was here.
And that fantasy I had of seeing Colin as a father was nothing compared to the reality of it. There’s nothing to prepare you for the moment you see the man you love holding your child. Nothing.
Watching the way our love for each other multiplied, evolved, spread roots, and grew to include another tiny person was like a miracle.
If I am the moon, and Colin is the tide, Will is the whole world.
Ever since becoming a father, I think about mine almost every day.
I know Colin does too. Whether good or bad, I think how our parents raised us makes its way into how we raise Will.
My father was a strict and serious man, and although I have so many good memories, I wish that the time I had with him had been more at ease.
He had no idea that the moments were so precious and finite.
Something I never forget when I’m with Will.
Most days, I still think I’m screwing this up, and I’ll probably never be as good at this as Colin is, but I’m trying. I’d give my life for these two. I’m their protector. And they are my heart.
After my coffee is ready, I take the cup over to the sofa and sit beside Will, handing him his chocolate milk.
I don’t give a damn about his show, so I open my phone and immediately see photos online of my Colin standing on the stage, accepting his award.
The public appears to be as enamored by his win as I am.
“I smell coffee,” he says as he walks into the living room and stretches his arms over his head.
After getting his cup, he takes a seat on the couch on the other side of our bouncy five-year-old. The two of them cuddle together, and Colin kisses the top of Will’s head.
Staring at the pair of them, I lose interest in whatever was on my phone, so I toss it to the side. Colin’s hand reaches across the back of the couch, and I clutch it firmly in mine.
He smiles at me, and everything feels right. There was a time in my life when I thought I would never get here, when I thought promise and hope died with my parents. But then I found someone who made life worth living again.
He gives me promise and hope. And while nothing is guaranteed and I’m aware that hard days could come again, I know that’s what makes moments like these so much more precious.