Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
SEBASTIAN
Until our things arrive, there isn’t much for Nicolo and me to do, so we settle down on the living room floor and dump out the contents of the thick envelopes we were given.
There’s paperwork—a shit ton of paperwork—for both of us, along with two temporary phones the US Marshals can use to contact us, or we can use to contact them until we get our own.
I know from experience the papers we’ve been given include a new driver’s license, social security number and banking information, as well as things pertinent to our new identities—high school and college diplomas, a resume with work experience. Everything we need to get our life started.
Like I told Nicolo, the story provided is bare bones. My birth certificate is the first part of the story, a certificate of live birth with Unknown in place of my mother and father’s names. My birthday and time of birth are the same. Then nothing until I graduate high school—mid-list grades and GPA. Nothing impressive, nothing outstanding. My college diploma and transcript are similar to the one I actually earned as Henry Salman, just printed with a new name.
The final piece of my life story—a marriage decree only . . .
“We’ve been married a little over three weeks.” I show Nicolo the paper.
Considering he only just turned eighteen, our relationship will have to be classified as a whirlwind romance—love at first sight. Otherwise, people are going to think I’m a pedophile who started dating him before he reached legal age.
Being married to—and having sex with—my brother is one thing. I can make that fit within my own moral framework. But children are a line that shouldn’t be crossed, and when it is, whoever crosses it should be killed on sight.
Nicolo presses his shoulder against mine. “What do we tell people? Really?”
I shrug before I wrap my arm around him and tuck him against my side. “If it comes up, we say you signed up for self-defense classes with me, and before we knew it, we were in too deep to pull out. I was already planning to move to the area, and after we got married, you decided to come with me.”
Short. Simple. Sweet. Most importantly, believable.
Eighteen-year-olds are known for making shit choices so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone as young as Nicolo would be willing to marry someone as old as me.
Our ages, the ten-year gap between when I was born and when he was born, and how fast our relationship happened will still leave a sour taste in some people’s mouth, but that’s their fucking problem. We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re both consenting adults, and if Nicolo was hesitant at all I’d pump the brakes so fast he’d get whiplash.
“Where do we go from here? How do we build a life from this?” He waves at the papers spread out in front of us.
I lay my head on his and he curls into me, his fingers twisting in my shirt. “It won’t always be easy, building a life that only exists on paper, from paper alone. But my savings should be deposited into my bank account, and when the house and the gym sell that money will be too so we’re not forced to live on the stipend the Marshals provide.”
Been there. Done that. No thanks.
“Tomorrow, the first thing we’ll do is get a rental car,” I’m mostly talking to myself, but Nicolo is listening and nodding along. “Phones, internet.” The lights and water are already turned on in my name. “After that, we can spend a couple hours shopping around for a new car.”
One for now, but Nicolo will need his own once school starts if he plans to attend in person. I suppose he’ll need one either way.
“Then we get groceries, anything else we might want or need, and come home. By then our things should be here and we can unpack.”
I’ll give it a few weeks before I start looking for a new building to open a gym in. It will take time to get all of that in order but by this time next year, hopefully, it’ll be up and running. At some point, depending on our finances, we can start looking for a house to make a permanent home out of.
“Just that simple?” Nicolo asks, tossing his leg over mine and climbing into my lap. He pushes his fingers into my hair, playing with the strands.
I laugh and shake my head as I wrap my arms around his slender midsection. “I’m making it sound easier than it will be.”
Tomorrow is going to be long, made longer by the fact we’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight and bound to wake up sore, but we’ll get through it.
“What am I supposed to do until I start school in the spring?”
I tighten my hold on him before I turn and pin him under me. He’s warm and hard in all the right places as our cocks slide together. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
He wraps his legs around my hips and runs his hands down my chest before slipping them under my shirt. His fingers dip into the waist of my sweatpants. “Is this where you suggest I be a kept man? You should know, if that’s the case, I’m very demanding and as your house husband I’ll expect you to tend to all of my needs.”
“Is that so?” I hum and brace my weight on one hand before easing his shirt up and off. Instead of throwing it away, I ball it up and shove it under his head as a makeshift pillow. “Does my new husband have any demands for me right now?”
Nicolo tugs my shirt over my head and after a brief shuffle tosses it away.
“Since you asked, how do you feel about eating ass?” His cheeks turn pink and he presses his lips together. “Do you like that kind of play? You haven’t—” He bites his lip and looks away.
“Nicolo.” I press down so he can feel me from collarbone to hip and cup his jaw, turning his attention back to me. He searches my face but must find whatever he’s looking for in my expression because he relaxes under me, his legs splaying wide, as if he’s simply waiting for me to do whatever I want to him.
“I’m all for ass play.” I grasp his hip and drag his ass into my lap before thrusting against him. He moans, a soft sound born deep in his chest. “Yours. Mine. It’s all good for me, Nico. The only reason I haven’t fucked you yet is because I didn’t want to do it within earshot of Simon or Burke.”
“Oh. But . . . you haven’t touched me there at all so I thought . . .” He shrugs.
“Nicolo. Nico. Sweetheart. You’re not exactly quiet when it’s my hands or mouth on your cock. When I get my tongue in your hole, the neighbors are going to hear you moaning and begging for me.”
He huffs. “I’m not that loud.”
I sit back on my knees and flip him over. “Let’s find out just how loud you are then.”