Chapter 16
brEK
My room faces the back of the property. I have a beautiful view of the lake in the distance, surrounded by grass and the glass monstrosity that is the office structure.
I say it’s a monstrosity, but really, it’s elegant, modern, and kind of unique.
Even though it’s very obviously from this generation, it still somehow blends in with the environment.
Perhaps it’s the windows. They reflect like mirrors, which means the building can serve as a continuation of the gardens to the right, the lake to the left, and the grassy yard between them and the big house.
I’m on the third floor in one of the empty, unused rooms facing the front of the house. At least I believe it’s unused. The door was open, and it appeared too neat to be used regularly.
I chose this room because there’s no chance someone is going to stumble upon me watching. I’m not on the first floor, where I can be seen if someone looks at the window. No one is going to pay attention to the third floor because it’s largely vacant.
Lorissa is leaving today. Everyone is gathered outside to say goodbye. I primarily watch Voss with Axl in his hold. He always has Axl close. I don’t understand why, but seeing him so attentive to his kid makes me feel all warm and… yeah.
Probably because I never felt that warmth or sense of importance from my family.
I’m a little surprised to find Honey Bee hugging Lorissa several times.
She even wipes her eyes. Is she actually sad?
I didn’t expect that. Then again, as I’m staring at everyone outside, I realize Lorissa is the only other girl.
Honey Bee is surrounded by guys. All of Jalon’s sons.
His brothers. Her best friends. Even the two kids—everyone is a guy.
Huh. I wonder if that bothers her. Is that why she and Lorissa were friends? Does she miss having girlfriends? Wait. Did she have girlfriends in college? In school? At work?
How oblivious am I?
I suppose my reason for avoiding Lorissa is apparent and expected. I was threatened by her presence. My brain has always been slightly convinced that Voss is going to decide that Axl needs both his parents to have a happy home.
It’s not that I don’t understand what he says about parenting.
Coming from a home where I was never good enough to earn my parents’ approval or praise—which led to a lonely, isolated, and bitter childhood home—I agree that it doesn’t truly matter how many parents someone has.
Biological parents, single parents, multiple parents, relatives acting as parents, foster parents—relation to the kid doesn’t matter.
Literally everything else does far more than genetics.
Yet I can’t turn off those thoughts that he’s going to wake up one day and want the perfect little family that Jalon always called them. Now that Lorissa is leaving, it feels less… possible.
Voss hands Axl to Oakley, and I smile. It’s weird that he’s talking about kids with Loren.
I feel like that’s a really bad idea, and not just because a voice in my head is still bitter about their relationship.
If we’re looking at just the facts alone, Loren is a sociopath.
Is it a good idea that he’s responsible for the life and care of children? It’s a legitimate question.
It’s also a decent distraction from watching Voss hug Lorissa. It’s not quick. At all. They stand just to the side of the car with the back door open. He’s holding her. It makes my heart race.
Just a goodbye. She had his baby. It’s okay that he feels some kind of way toward her. That’s perfectly normal. Expected. It doesn’t mean he’s in love with her.
We’re dating, I remind myself. That came out of his mouth. That means he’s my boyfriend, right? Well, he’s my something at any rate. He’s more mine than hers, even if I didn’t carry his child.
After far longer than necessary, Voss finally lets her go, and she climbs into the back of the car. I see her hands flick out as she waves. Voss waits until she’s fully inside the car before shutting the door. He takes several steps back.
A minute passes. My heart freezes. My breath stills. I stare as this moment drags on. And then the car is driving around the fountain and down the road, disappearing under the canopy of trees. I stare still until the taillights disappear.
She’s gone. She’s really gone. I lick my lips and look down at the gaggle of people. Emerson is still waving as he holds Briar’s hand, but is standing on his own little feet. Not on his own. Noaz is right behind him, hand on Emerson’s shoulder, keeping him steady.
The group eventually turns toward the house. Oakley keeps Axl in his arms as they disappear from view. Absently, I wonder if Voss trusts Axl in Loren’s care. Would he be offended if I asked him? I truly am just curious right now.
I turn from the window and head out of the room.
I don’t run, but I make a direct route to the stairs closest to my bedroom and climb up two at a time until I’m on the landing.
I’m in my room a minute later and standing in the little vestibule area as I concentrate on the way my heart continues to race.
I feel guilty for wanting her to leave. I shouldn’t feel that way. It’s selfish. It’s a reflection of my insecurity. Shockingly, I have a lot of insecurities. All of which seems to stem from people replacing me.
My eyes scan the entry room that everyone refers to as the bedroom vestibule.
I was being ironic in calling it little.
It’s as large as the room I had in the house we rented together in southern Arizona.
Levis’ and Honey Bee’s are set up with a purpose.
I have no vision, so it’s a catchall of random shit.
There’s a bookshelf with some books haphazardly stacked and falling.
There’s a chair—the one I curled up in with Voss and read about asexuality on his phone.
There’s a weight bench with some weights, though I barely touch it.
I also have a drafting table. Why? No idea. It seemed like a good investment.
I jump when arms wrap around me from behind. “She’s gone,” Voss says quietly.
My shoulders tense. “I should have said goodbye,” I admit.
Voss chuckles. “How many times did you talk to her since she moved in?”
I want to say I’ve talked to her plenty, but I don’t think I’ve spoken to her once more than the initial introduction, where I said, ‘hi.’ “It would have been polite,” I argue.
“Not a big deal. She’s not offended.”
“Are you sad she’s gone?” I ask.
Voss hums, but his arms hug me tightly. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her since I arrived in New York last December. She’s a good person. She’s smart and passionate and funny.”
“And attractive?”
He laughs. “Yeah. But it might have been more about proximity and convenience. My point is we became friends, so yes, I’m going to miss her. Miss her as my friend. Nothing else, Brek.”
“I’m transparent as glass, aren’t I?”
“My first introduction to you was when you were wildly jealous of Oakley and Loren’s relationship, so… yeah, I recognize it easily enough.”
“Ouch.”
“You have trust issues,” Voss says.
“No, I have issues with change,” I correct.
“Oh?”
I nod. “It took a lot of soul searching to figure out that’s what the problem is, and not that I’m actually in love with my friends.
Learning that I’m asexual and aromantic really helped because the feelings that I was struggling with outside of that situation rolled right into aroace and explained why I was hanging on so tightly to the people I love. Platonically.”
“Aromantic, huh?”
I bow my head, trying not to smile. Not how I intended this conversation to come up. “Yeah, only… shockingly, you’ve kind of fucked up that understanding too.”
“You’re welcome.”
I snort. “I’m leaning toward demiromantic.”
“But not demisexual.”
“I can’t explain why I think I’m not demi in both, but I truly don’t think my emotional attachment to you has anything to do with my sexual response. That came first, you know? I don’t think I really became emotionally invested until right before Axl was born.”
“When I began spending more time with Lor in preparation for Axl’s birth.” He nods. “Forced you to reevaluate how you were feeling.”
“My sudden possessive jealousy forced me to, yeah.”
Voss snorts. “So we’re on the same page, you should know that I’m also emotionally invested in you, too.”
My breath stutters, and I chance a look at him over my shoulder. Is he serious? I meet his eyes awkwardly, and I think he’s serious. He doesn’t appear to be pulling my leg. Not that I think he’d do that.
I’m guessing he can see my insecurity because his smile is soft as he turns me in his arms, and I hug him tightly. His mouth closes in on mine, and my eyes flutter shut. It’s real. He means it.
We stumble around as Voss leads me through the vestibule toward my room and bed.
We fall, limbs tangled, still kissing more sloppily than we ever have in the past. Does he feel the way my blood heats under my skin?
There’s something about this declaration that feels sexy.
It shouldn’t. It’s not a sexy conversation.
I pull my mouth from his to ask, “Where’s Axl?”
Voss grins widely. “He’s with Oakley and one of the nannies.”
“Do you trust Loren with him?”
“Mm. I do. Loren is obsessively protective of his family, and Axl is family. He’s perfectly safe.”
I’m not sure I see it the same way, but I don’t argue. It’s not my place to argue. Besides, he knows his brother far better than I do. Especially since I’ve spent the last two years with a chip on my shoulder concerning Loren.
“I love that you’re concerned about Axl’s safety, Brek.” His hand slips up my shirt and along my spine, raising gooseflesh along its way. “You can trust me. Trust my judgment. Okay?”
I nod. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m really glad you told me how you felt rather than keeping it to yourself. It means a lot that you’re looking out for Axl.”
I try to concentrate on our conversation, but his hand has slipped down the back of my pants. He touches my bare ass, his fingers sliding inward toward my crack. My breath comes out in pulses, whooshes, as he slowly trails his touch along the crevice of my ass cheeks.
“Want to try something?” Voss asks, his mouth moving along my jaw. “Are you feeling up for it?”
My eyes try to narrow at his choice of words. He can feel that I’m up for it. My dick is pressing against his thigh, and it’s definitely hard. If possible, I think it gets harder the more his fingers touch my butt.
Instead, all I can manage is nodding my head. My voice is caught between pants, and I can’t get it out.
“I’d like to touch your hole. Maybe finger you if you’re okay with that,” Voss says. “How do you feel?”
I groan in response. Voss grins.
“Sounds like you’re into a little exploration, Brek. Yeah?”
I nod again.
“Where’s your lube?”
My eyebrows knit together. Do I have any? Voss chuckles but takes pity on me. “Hang on. I’ll grab some. How about you take these off, huh?” He tugs on my pants as he rolls away.
I don’t like that he’s moving away. It feels cold when his body is no longer pressed against me.
Everything inside me feels awkward lying here on the bed, hard.
I can’t remember ever having been like this before.
My bed, my room, was my safe space. The place I didn’t have to pretend to get aroused and convince my cock to get hard.
I’m not convincing it right now, though. This is real. This is what everyone else around me was feeling while I was trying to pretend that no one was hot enough for me. Was I fooling myself by trying to turn it around on them?
The reality is that teenagers are assholes. I didn’t want the reputation that I couldn’t get it up. So the few times I thought I’d give it a try, I was a jerk right off the bat and told them that no one in school has ever been hot enough to get me hard. Would they be the exception?
It worked. I was difficult to impress, not a limp dick.
Something bounces off the bed beside me, and I jerk. Voss stands over me, amused. “Didn’t want to get naked for me?”
“Sorry. Just marveling that my cock is still hard.”
His amusement softens. He leans over the bed and undoes my pants for me. I watch his face as he shimmies them off my hips, bringing my underwear with them. I’m left in my shirt, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Look at you,” Voss murmurs. He kneels on the bed between my legs, making me spread them. Which feels even more awkward. My cheeks heat. “I’m so… amazed, honored, that you’re turned on for me, Brek. I don’t know why you chose me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”
The way his words make me feel choked up has me closing my eyes for a minute. Was that sappy? I don’t know. It feels sappy.
He comes down on me, his mouth on mine again, but immediately, he rolls us over so I’m splayed over him.
“Keep your legs spread like this, okay?”
I nod and try not to concentrate on what his hands are doing. Instead, I get lost in his kisses. The way my body feels against his. My cock, hard and throbbing against his, though we have his pants separating our skin.
Then his fingers are probing my hole. I don’t know why, but when he rubs me, a thrill of arousal shivers along my spine, and I groan. It’s awkward and weird and maybe a little concerning when he slowly, gently, presses a finger into me.
I think we both forget that we’re kissing, and our mouths just hover over each other as he explores. Deeper. Curling. Two fingers. Stretching. I grunt, pant, shudder.
But my shivers aren’t of disgust or even awkwardness.
It feels good. The feelings of heat, drowning, soaring, and shaking fill me.
The more he touches, the deeper he gets, the more I feel like I’m falling into a pool of screams, and they’re going to take me under until I’m one of them.
Writhing in agonizing pleasure I’ve never felt before.
All because Voss taught me what the real use of a butthole is.