Chapter 41
Forty
Crash Into Me
Ryan
We manage to make it back to the condo undetected. I know this privacy bubble can't last forever, but I'm going to milk it as long as I possibly can.
After we put the groceries away, Spence threw me on the couch and gave me the most mind-bending blowjob I've ever experienced.
It wasn't just physical. It felt like his tongue was trying to communicate everything he doesn't know how to say out loud: need, fear, possession, affection.
Maybe even something dangerously close to love.
The changes have been noticeable, though.
He wants to let go, to let me in. He just doesn't know how.
I know he's been through some serious shit.
It's written all over his heart, in the way he freezes after moments of vulnerability, in the way his eyes sometimes go distant when I touch him too gently, in how badly he wants connection while simultaneously bracing for impact every time he gets close to it.
I won't push. I'm just going to continue to show up for him, to silently let him know he can trust me. He's almost there. I can feel it.
I mean, I have self-respect. I'm not going to accept less than I deserve, and if he remains resistant forever, I have no problem putting him on the spot about the possibility of a future, because when I think about my future… he’s it.
The realization should probably terrify me. Instead, it makes me smile like an idiot as I walk out of his master bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist.
Spence is standing at the end of the bed in his own towel, water glistening on his perfect chest while he lays clothes out across the comforter. Jesus Christ. How does one man look this good fully clothed, half clothed, soaking wet, pissed off, emotionally constipated, or threatening bodily harm?
He glances up at me, then gestures toward the bed. “I picked an outfit for you. I washed the good jeans you had here. This dress shirt and cashmere of mine should fit you.” He clears his throat. “I'll grab some shoes too. We're the same size.”
He sounds nervous. It is the cutest fucking thing I've ever witnessed. I step closer and waggle my brows. “You just want to see me in your clothes, don't you?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I wouldn't hate it. I know you’ll wear it well.” Then his fingers slip between the towel and my hip. One flick of his wrist and the towel drops to the floor. My dick bobs free between us. Spence's eyes darken instantly.
“But” he says roughly, gaze dragging over my body, “you wear nothing so well.”
I swallow hard and shake my head slowly. “My sisters are going to be here soon. You better stop looking at me like that, baby.”
His eyes flare. Oh. That landed.
“Yeah, that's right, Spence,” I tease softly. “I called you baby. And I'm not taking it back.”
His jaw tightens. Then he points at the clothes on the bed. “Get dressed before I take you over my knee.”
I sigh dramatically. “Promises, promises.”
His nostrils flare.
“I'm going to get dressed in the closet,” he grits out. “I can't be near your body right now.”
My grin splits my face in half as I grab the clothes and start to dress as he stalks off.
The jeans fit perfectly. The dress shirt is a little snug across my chest and biceps, but it works. Then I pull the black cashmere sweater over my head and groan softly.
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself. “I need to spend more money on clothes.”
It's so soft. Like wearing a cloud. I throw on socks and head for the kitchen to pull the steaks out so they can come to room temperature before cooking. I get everything laid out on the island and start organizing ingredients when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
I glance up.
And nearly choke on my own fucking tongue.
Spence walks into the kitchen wearing black slacks and a fitted black turtleneck.
A black. Fucking. Turtleneck. His dark hair is still damp and pushed back from his face.
The sleeves hug his forearms perfectly. The slacks mold to his thick thighs and narrow hips in a way that should honestly qualify as attempted murder.
He's carrying shoes in one hand. Presumably mine.
He stalks toward me with that cool, composed expression he wears like armor and bends down to place the shoes near my feet. I slip them on automatically, still staring at him like I've never seen a man before. Then I step back and hold my arms out.
“Well?” I ask. “How do I look?”
His nostrils flare slightly as he scans me from head to toe. The look in his eyes turns molten. Then he meets my gaze and says in a low, possessive voice, “You look like fucking mine.”
Every molecule of oxygen leaves my body. The only thing powering me now is instinct as I close the distance between us and grab him by the hips, tugging him flush against me. I press our foreheads together, then softly say, “Then claim me already, Counselor.”
His hands slide around my waist before landing possessively on my ass. “I'm trying, Ry,” he murmurs. “I'm doing the best I know how. I'm giving more than I ever thought I'd be able to.”
Emotion swells so fast in my chest it almost hurts. I nod against his forehead. “I know.” I rub my nose against his softly. “I'm not going anywhere, okay?”
A deep hum vibrates out of him. “I know. I’m getting closer, Ryan.”
I pull back just enough to frame his face in my hands. “When you're ready.”
His eyes search mine carefully. “When I'm ready,” he repeats quietly.
I smile softly. “I'm going to lean in and kiss your cheek now because I can't not kiss your skin right now.” I brush my thumbs along his jaw. “Is that okay?”
I watch his throat work. Then he gives me the tiniest nod and closes his eyes.
Fuck. That trust destroys me.
I lean in and kiss his right cheek. Then his left. Then I tilt his chin upward and press a kiss to his Adam's apple before trailing them slowly up the side of his neck toward the spot just below his ear.
“Ry—” he whines.
My cock jumps hard in my jeans. I cup him through his slacks and whisper against his skin, “Those lips are going to be the sweetest reward.”
A rumble from his chest vibrates against my own.
“So worth the wait,” I continue softly. “I'm going to chew on them every chance I get once they're mine.”
“Jesus, Ryan.”
I press one final kiss beneath his ear before forcing myself to pull away completely. He looks absolutely wrecked. Dazed. Flushed. Breathing hard. Honestly? It's nice being on the other side of that for once.
Then there's a knock at the door.
Spence startles and his eyes widen in panic as he looks down at the very obvious bulge in his slacks.
“Damn you, Ryan.”
He tries adjusting himself. It somehow makes it worse.
I snicker as I breeze past him toward the front door. Time to introduce Spencer Stark to the insanity that is my sisters.
I pull the door open, and my sisters come barreling inside all chaos and beauty and perfume, and something in my chest eases just seeing them. I give them my brightest smile and hold my arms open wide. “Cricket. Bug. Bring it in.”
They rush toward me like a hurricane of affection, tackling me in a hug that nearly knocks me off my feet. Cricket's arms squeeze tight around my shoulders, and I feel her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, “It's so good to see you, baby bro.”
They both step back and I take them in, really look at them, and I'm struck by how stunning they are.
They're both dressed to the nines, as usual.
Perfect hair, great style. Cricket's dark hair is swept up and pinned in the back, and she's wearing a flowy white jumper with a big white belt, a silk scarf and white pumps.
She's got a cute white rhinestone jacket over the whole thing.
Harper, the wild one, is in a fire engine red leather skirt with a cream blouse, a mid-length red leather jacket, and red stilettos that could probably double as weapons.
Harper looks around the condo and lets out a low whistle. “This place kicks your place's ass, Ry.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I know, right. Wait 'til you see the kitchen fully.”
Spence comes walking out of the kitchen then, apparently having deflated his situation, and Harper's eyes go wide as saucers. “Holy Fifty Shades of Gay. It's even better in person.” She turns to me, mouth hanging open. “Is he even real?”
Cricket smacks Harper on the arm, but she's grinning. I laugh and practically purr, “Oh, he's very real.”
Cricket gives me this soft look, the one that says she sees everything, and says, “We have so much to catch up on, brother.”
Spence approaches and extends his hand, all polished manners and lawyer formality. “Hi ladies. I'm Spencer Stark.”
Cricket slaps his hand away with a huff. “First of all, we're from the South. We hug.” She steps closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Second, we've seen you naked, no need to be so formal.”
Spence groans, his ears going pink, and Harper snickers. Cricket wraps Spence in a hug before he can protest, and I watch his stiff posture slowly melt as he tentatively hugs her back. Harper is waiting right behind Cricket, and when it's her turn, she hugs Spence so hard he actually grunts.
Harper releases him and fans herself dramatically. “Even better than I imagined.”
I laugh and hold up my hands. “Alright. Enough, you two. Give Spence a minute to acclimate.” I reach for their coats. “Give me your coats. You can drop your bags anywhere in the living room.”
The girls shuck out of their jackets, and I put them in the coat closet, catching Spence's slightly dazed expression in my peripheral vision. Poor guy. He has no idea what he's in for.
Then I turn back to the group and say, “Spence, you should give them a tour while I start prepping dinner.”
Spence looks a little panicked, his eyes darting to me with a silent plea for rescue, and I bark a laugh. “Don't worry, they don't bite.”
Harper sets down her bag and grins wickedly. “Well, I do. But I charge extra for that.”
Cricket scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don't lie. You give it up for an appetizer and a cheap Chardonnay.”
Harper gawps, clutching her chest in mock offense. “No. It's an appetizer and two cheap Chardonnays. I'm classy like that.”
Spence looks between the three of us, his expression shifting from overwhelmed to something like wonder. Then his eyes land on me, and he says, deadpan, “It's like you made replicates of yourself and gave them boobs.”
The room goes silent for a moment. Then we all break into laughter. Harper hooks her arm in Spence's and beams up at him. “I think I'll keep you. Now be a gentleman and show us your place.”
Spence takes them on a tour, Harper chattering a mile a minute and Cricket asking pointed questions about square footage and furniture, and I head into the kitchen.
I pull on one of my aprons, tie it behind my back, and get to work on chopping shallots and smashing garlic, the familiar rhythm of cooking settling my nerves even as I listen to my sisters' delighted exclamations echoing through the condo.
My knife is halfway through a shallot when I hear a door open down the hall, followed by Spence's voice. “This is the master—”
He's abruptly cut off by Harper shouting, “KITTY!”
Spence’s voice follows, “Oh. My. God.”
I'm laughing so hard I have to put the knife down, bracing myself against the counter. Between the onions and laughing, my eyes are leaking. The moment is sheer perfection. I wipe the wetness from my eyes and softly murmur to the empty room, “Welcome to the family, Spence.”
Then I still as realization dawns on me.
He really is it for me, isn't he? I mean, it's not a complete revelation.
I've slowly been trying to convince him to simply take some next steps.
To kiss me, damn it. And I knew my heart had already decided he was mine.
I guess I hadn't considered the “forever” part of “mine.” In this moment, seeing him with my sisters, the awareness hits me like a truck.
He’s not just “my guy” or “my someday.” He’s my everything. I’ve been nudging him toward first-and-ten for months—now I want the whole damn touchdown.
I just need to get him into the end zone.
With a sense of resolve, I pick up my phone from the counter and do what I should have done yesterday after my father's post on Lexicon. I snap a quick selfie with my apron—this one says, I LIKE MY BUTT RUBBED in bold letters across my chest—and start a post on Instagram.
Then I type the caption:
Now that I have your attention. (cough-wink) My cooking series will now be called OnlyPans.
My bro @tylerfashion, I'm going to need merch designed.
You guys should follow him! Now, pay close attention, because I will not be addressing this again.
What you guys witnessed was an intimate moment between two consenting adults that was accidentally broadcast live because a freaking CAT walked across my keyboard.
I apologize only for the shock. I do not apologize for my sexuality.
I do not apologize for my coming out timeline.
Every person's journey is unique and there are no rules.
Until this world evolves into an environment where closets aren't necessary, we don't get to dictate their path.
I am far more privileged than most and I am well aware my experience could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Honestly, I'm happy it happened this way.
It's done. Yes, I am a gay man. I love good D and I don't mean Defense.
Regarding my father's trash post: We have NOT spoken.
I abso-fucking-lutely will NOT be going under the kind of “therapy” he is suggesting, and no one led me astray.
Can we move on, please? I've already created the OnlyPans accounts on all the good social channels.
Go give them a follow and I'll let you guys meet F-Bomb, the cat culprit that showed my ass to the whole world.
One last thing: Just be good to each other. Love, Butters.
I turn off the post's comments because I'm not giving basement dwellers a voice on my coming out moment, and hit post. I toss my phone back on the counter and sigh.
“Well,” I mutter to myself, “this should be fun.”