4. Jefferson
Jefferson
P ale moonlight creeps through the curtains, casting shadows across the bed and across us.
Malcolm and I lay tangled together, skin against skin, limbs wrapping around each other as our breaths sync.
Both of us have just had the most mind blowing orgasms ever.
My fingers trace a slow line along his bare chest, my touch light as a feather.
Gently making an infinity sign that spans the width of his body, weaving around his pecs.
Infinity.
That’s what I want with Malcolm, and I’m tired of waiting. Of hiding in the shadows. I want to scream from the rooftops that I love this man. That he’s mine, and at fifty-two, I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.
“You always do that,” he mumbles huskily, turning onto his side to face me, his piercing blue eyes reaching right to my soul.
I raise up on my elbow and look down at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I brush a lock of hair out of his face. “Do what?”
“Touch me like I’m something breakable.”
I don’t answer right away. Oddly, I never realized I treated him that way. It’s not intentional if I do. Leaning over, I press a tender kiss on his shoulder, then another along the hollow of his neck before placing a final one on his lips.
“If I do, it’s because you matter to me.” My breath is hot against his face. “Because when we’re here like this… everything else fades away and it’s just us. And I love us.”
I glance up, our eyes meeting, saying to each other what words sometimes don’t convey. How much we love each other. There’s no other man for me. Malcolm is my endgame.
My hands slide effortlessly down Malcolm’s side, my fingers gripping his waist, pulling him closer. The movement brings our bodies flush. I can’t help but moan at the contact, my dick instantly hard, ready for more.
Malcolm moves his leg, positioning it between mine, aligning our hips together, our cocks, rubbing against each other.
It’s a moment of perfect bliss. There’s no urgency to fuck, no wild grasping at each other’s bodies.
Just closeness. Our lips find each other.
Kissing slow and tender. Our hands exploring one another as if it’s our first time being together.
Every touch is a question. Every breath, an answer.
I roll Malcolm onto his back while I continue to claim his mouth with mine.
My hand slides across his toned stomach, over his Adonis belt, right to his very hard shaft.
Gripping it, I give a gentle squeeze before moving my hand up and down his shaft.
Capturing Malcolm’s moans with my mouth, each one more delicious than the next.
“Fuck, Jefferson, that feels so good,” he murmurs huskily, thrusting his hips in sync with my strokes.
“Are you going to come for me, baby? Do you want me to suck you dry?”
“Promises,” he groans, and I can’t help but laugh softly. He knows it's more than that. There’s nothing I love more than taking his shaft into my mouth. Licking him from tip to base. Choking on him.
Looking down at his handsome face, my hands on him, I can’t wait any longer.
“Move in with me?” My heart races as I ask him the question I've been dying to ask.
I expected Malcolm to be excited. To see this as the next step forward in our relationship. But instead, I’m met with silence and a face that's turning white in shock. A frown instead of a smile. No joy.
“What? I expected a little more excitement than this.” I sit up, releasing his cock, dread settling into my stomach. The sheet pools around my waist. The moment we were just sharing now shattered. Tarnished.
Malcolm sits up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jefferson.” He’s not smiling; there’s no twinkle of excitement in his eyes. Instead, he looks scared. Like a man who’s about to have his world crashing down around him. “You know—”
I don’t let him go any further, my mouth already open, cutting him off mid sentence.
“No, Malcolm. I mean it. Come live with me. We’re already doing this. We’re together almost every night. And when you do stay, you leave before the sun’s fully up. I’m tired of watching you walk out that door. I’m tired of hiding what we are.”
“Jefferson, you know why we can’t.” He sits up, rubbing his fingers on his temple as if he has a migraine.
I want to scream in frustration. My heart shattering into a million pieces.
“I mean it.” My voice comes out colder than I intend, but I’m mad, and I’m constructing my walls. “Let’s stop pretending like this isn’t real. I love you. I’m not interested in being your secret anymore.”
“I love you too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, regret splashed across his face. “You know I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I ask coldly. “We’ve been doing this for over a year.” I rub my hands together as I exhale sharply. “Sneaking around. Pretending to be friends instead of lovers. I’m sick of it. Aren’t you?”
Malcolm lets out a heavy sigh as he rakes his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends, disheveling them. “You know why, Jefferson. My kids. My family. It’s not that simple.”
“They love you,” I remind him. “And they deserve to know who you are. The real you. Not this person you pretend to be. And for the love of God, stop using Paige and the kids as an excuse. She told you at Henry’s graduation she’d be there with you when you come out to them.”
“It’s not them I’m worried about the most,” Malcolm’s voice cracks as he speaks.
“ It’s me. The look on my mother’s face when I show up with you on my arm as my new love interest and not a woman.
The questions Alice will ask that I don’t have answers to.
Fuck, Henry still thinks I’m in love with his mom, even though she’s moved on and is with someone else. ”
My head drops down, jaw tight, as I try to control my anger. The pain I’m feeling at this moment. “So, what—I’m just a chapter you’re hoping to keep hidden in the margins? The spicy erotica book you don’t want your family knowing about?”
“No,” he says quickly. “God, no. Jefferson, you’re everything. But I have a life that was built around a different version of me, and ripping that life apart, coming out as the man I am, I don’t know if I can.”
A long silence stretches between us. Neither of us speaking. Our eyes, anywhere but on each other.
I swallow hard. Reality hitting me in the face. I force the words out, past the knot forming in my throat. “Then tell me this isn’t forever.”
Malcolm finally looks up at me, his eyes teary, full of anguish. “I can’t.”
“Then tell me yes,” I beg him. “Tell me I’m not just a silent comfort for you. A face in the dark. That someday, I’ll be more than the man you only love behind closed doors. That you’ll want to come clean and tell everyone you love me.”
Malcolm looks wrecked. His lips part, but no words come. His eyes dart between mine and the floor, like he’s searching for an answer that doesn’t exist… A part of me wants to reach out, wrap my arms around him and pull him into my embrace, comforting him. But my heart won’t let me. It’s broken.
“I want to be brave, to tell my family I’m gay. That I’ve always been that way. That my marriage was a sham the entire time,” he whispers. “I just don’t know how yet.”
“Will you ever be able to?” I ask, a part of me already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.
Malcolm just sits there, head down, shoulders shrugging. “I don’t know,” he whispers.
My brows draw tighter together, as if they’re trying to force some type of clarity from Malcolm’s words.
My eyes—wide, unfocused—glimmer with a sheen of moisture, but no tears fall.
Not yet. They’re held suspended in that impossible middle place, where either choice I make feels like a betrayal.
Even though I’m the one who’s been strung along. I’m the one coming out of this broken.
My jaw clenches, muscles twitching with tension. My lips press into a tight, pale line, then part as if to speak, only to close again with a soft exhale that sounds almost like defeat.
I give Malcolm one final look, eyes pleading with him to see the love I have for him. That I’d be there right by his side, supporting him as he comes out to his family. A moment of hope rushes through me when he looks up, reaching out, taking my hand in his.
“I don’t know that I can ever tell them. Why can’t we just keep things the way they are?”
With that one question, my mind is made up.
I lift his hand, kissing it gently. There’s no smile, no tears. Just a heavy feeling. I’m done. Tired of fighting for something alone.
“Because I can’t do that. I’ve given you time.
An entire year, to be exact, of us being exclusive.
And however many years before that, while you were still playing the dutiful husband.
I thought once the two of you divorced that it would finally be our time.
” I drop his hand, then stand slowly from the bed. “But clearly, it’s not.”
“Jefferson—”
“No. You’ve had your time. I need a boyfriend. A partner. Someone who wants to be with me, not hide me. And I don’t have that.”
Malcolm comes up on his knees, hands reaching out to me.
“Please, Jefferson. I just need you to be patient. I promise I’ll tell them. I just need time. Just give me that.”
I close my eyes, knowing that if I look at him, I’ll crack and give in.
“I’m done, Malcolm. I’m tired of being with someone who doesn’t want to be with me. Who’s ashamed of who he is and our relationship. I’m going to take a shower. Use the time to get your things and leave. Don’t be here when I’m done, and leave your key.”
With those words, I turn and head to the bathroom. I don’t look back, not even to shut the door behind me.
He doesn’t follow me. Try to plead with me to change my mind. Instead, he just lets me go.