Chapter 32 #2
Ash’s laugh slips out before he can strangle it. He hides it behind his hand, but Kieran catches it, his grin widening.
“Kieran,” his mother starts, her smile stiff. As always, she’s trying to mitigate damage. “How long have you known Ashley?”
“Oh, we go waaay back. It’s been long enough to know he’s ten times the man people give him credit for. He’s got more patience than anyone I’ve ever met. Case in point, sitting here and listening to the same tired speech without flipping the table.”
Despite the freezing cold atmosphere, Ash can only feel warmth spreading into every cell of his body.
“Patience,” his father grits out, “has never achieved anything.”
“Debatable. Rome wasn’t built in a day either.
But let’s say I agree,” Kieran says, leaning forward slightly.
His tone is still infuriatingly polite, while the words are anything but.
“You know what is an achievement, though? Building a life that actually means something. One where people are better off because you exist in it. Funny how that gets overlooked in certain circles.”
“You and Ashley must be very close,” his mother says quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation. Ever the peacekeeper, even if the price is someone else’s happiness. Or her own.
Kieran leans back, one arm slung casually over the back of Ash’s chair.
“Oh, absolutely. I’d say I know him better than anyone.
Better than family, even. And of course, I know him very well in the biblical sense.
I assume you can’t relate to that one. At least I hope you can’t.
That’d be worrying.” He taps his chin, as if deep in thought.
“Then again, you do seem experienced in fucking your children up.”
His voice must carry around because a few heads from the surrounding tables turn towards them, the people whispering.
The spoon in his father’s hand clangs against the plate.
“Ashley, this is outrageous—”
The waiter rocks up with Kieran’s order. “Your whiskey-caramel soufflée, sir.”
“Perfect, I was starting to taste something bitter. Need to fix that.” He doesn’t hesitate stuffing his face, speaking through a mouthful.
“Wow. This is to die for. Want some?” He offers the spoon to Ash’s father.
“No? It’s okay. More for me. Sorry, I got carried away. What were we talking about again?”
“Your behavior is highly unsuitable for a place like this,” his father uses the voice that usually has people in the courtroom cowering.
Kieran is unaffected. He makes a show of looking around.
“Ah, yes. Lovely place you chose. Very…quiet. You can practically hear people suffocating under the weight of pretense.” He cups a hand around his ear.
“If you listen closely, you might even hear the sticks in their asses dragging across the chairs.”
Ash starts to shake. So, so close to losing it completely.
His father loses it first. There’s more emotion in his expression than Ash has witnessed in the 35 years of his life. There might even be a vein pulsing on his forehead. Jesus, this is absolute cinema. 10/10 would recommend.
“You think you’re so funny and clever, don’t you?”
“I think I’m hilarious. And charming,” Kieran announces with pride. “Clever? Meh. But I’m honest and I give a shit. Seems to me like Ash could use people like that in his life.”
His father makes a few more attempts to reassert control, but Kieran turns every argument inside out with a jab so sharp and precise there’s barely anything left.
Ash doesn’t look at his parents. He looks at Kieran, who sits there in all his outrageous, unapologetic glory, smiling as if he owns the table.
Which, to be honest, he probably does. He definitely owns Ash, that’s for sure.
Ash feels lighter with every exchange, like a weight he’s carried for years is being steadily shifted onto someone else’s shoulders.
It’s funny how, despite his desperate need for control, watching Kieran assert dominance makes him want to drop to his knees in the middle of a busy restaurant.
They should probably get out of here. Soon.
Once the bill gets delivered, Kieran pushes his chair back and stands. “Well, this has been lovely. Let’s never do it again. You ready to go, cupcake?”
Ash bites the inside of his cheek and breathes slowly through his nose. “Uh-huh.” He joins Kieran, taking his hand as they prepare to leave.
“Oh, one more thing.” Kieran reaches for the bill folder, flips the paper over and scribbles something down with a flourish. “My number. Because Ash will be blocking yours, so the next time you want to see him, you’ll arrange it with me first. Wouldn’t want you wasting his time, after all.”
Ash’s parents stare—two identical, dumbstruck expressions. Not a word in edgewise.
And with that, Kieran takes Ash by the wrist and steers him toward the exit.
Stepping outside feels like stepping into another world, a real one, a better one. When fresh air hits his face, it’s like an invisible line being drawn between his past and his present, removing the shackles he’s spent so much time pretending were never there.
“You okay?” Kieran asks, features tight with concern, the plasticky sweetness gone. “That was rough.”
Ash squeezes his hand and smiles. “Never better.” It’s true. He’s never felt more free.
Kieran watches him, maybe trying to gauge if he’s lying or not. Whatever he finds must satisfy him, and he leads them to the parking lot.
Since Kieran has brought his car, they have to make their way home separately.
The ride is short, only a few minutes, but even that brief time apart has needles prickling along Ash’s skin.
He wants Kieran close. He needs him close, like he’ll die if he doesn’t touch him.
Maybe he’s developing separation anxiety? Totally Kieran’s fault, by the way.
The lift ride upstairs is silent, simply because there are so many unspoken things that it’s hard to settle on one. Kieran must interpret the quiet differently, though, casting wary glances in Ash’s direction.
“Look,” he starts once they’re inside the apartment, defensiveness rolling off of him. “If you’re gonna bitch about me not listening to y—”
Ash scoops him up, deposits him on the kitchen island, and kisses every doubt and worry out of him. Kieran tastes like the dessert he ate, and it tastes so, so sweet, the hint of whiskey giving it the slightest bitter kick.
He’s dazed and flushed when Ash pulls back, a sheepish smile growing on his lips.
“So…you’re not upset?”
Ash hums, giving Kieran’s bottom lip a little nip. “I’m very torn between punishing you for disobeying me, and going down on my knees and staying there until you come your brains out.”
Kieran blinks. Once, twice. Three times. “Well, the former is not applicable because you asked me to stay put as my boyfriend,” he reasons, expression hopeful. And excited.
“Is that right?”
“Yup.”
“In that case…” Ash’s smirk is full of promise. He starts his descent to the floor when the state of the kitchen catches his eye. He had been too busy thinking of all the ways to devour Kieran to notice before. “Kieran?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s this?”
Brows drawing together, Kieran twists his neck to see behind him. His lips part on a nearly silent ah shit as he takes in the wide open cabinets, rearranged crockery, and misplaced furniture. When he turns back to Ash, there are a couple of sweat droplets beading on his hairline.
“Oh. Haha. Funny story.” He lifts a hand, the thumb and forefinger almost touching but leaving a slight gap in between. “I was a teensy bit upset about you leaving me behind, so…”
“So you made a mess?”
“This doesn’t qualify as a mess. It’s—it’s just a lack of…organization, is what it is,” he babbles. His mouth curves up in a nervous smile. “Am I still getting the blowie?”
Ash lets his voice drop low and leans forward as if going for a kiss. As Kieran’s eyelids flutter, he says, “You’re getting something alright.”
“No, wait—Aah!” Kieran shrieks when Ash throws him over his shoulder, aiming his steps towards the bedroom. “I’m sorry! I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it right now!” His legs flutter in the air, hands clutching the back of Ash’s shirt.
His hardening dick pokes Ash’s armpit.
Ash smirks. “I have a better idea.”
So many ideas.