Chapter 34
34
William Andino, One Month Later
“ Y ou made these?” My eyes lift, lips twitching with amusement. Colt’s standing before me in my pair of Winnie pajama pants that he got me for Christmas, no shirt, an apron tied around his neck with eggplants and peaches all over it, and a black headband on his head, holding back his messy, dark brown strands that have gotten so much longer in the last month than I’ve ever seen them. “Like, homemade?”
He nods, proud, a crooked smile on his face. “Cope gave me the recipe, but he didn’t help me this time. Made the sausage gravy myself too.”
Lately, Colt’s been taking an interest in baking. Specifically, bread. He even brought over a giant mason jar filled with a sourdough starter that he named Bertha. Whatever the hell that means. He has one at his house too. In between training at the arena, he’s been trying out various recipes that he gets from his mom or the internet. Some have been an epic failure, but some—like I think this one might be—are delicious. And it’s cute watching him focus and try to get it just right.
The sound of the front door closing reaches us in the kitchen, and a moment later, my dad walks in, Winnie following closely behind him. “What smells so dang good?” he asks.
“Colt made homemade biscuits and gravy for breakfast.”
My dad’s gaze slides over to Colt, a huge grin spreading on his face. “You did? Well, ain’t that something.”
“Hungry?” Colt asks him, brow quirked.
“You know I am.”
If there’s one thing about Roger Andino, it’s that he’s always down to eat. Even with age, that hasn’t lessened.
Dad and I set the table while Colt finishes what he’s doing in the kitchen. Once it’s all done, we dish up and sit around the table, scarfing down the—very delicious—biscuits and gravy.
“Colt, these are incredible,” I tell him in between bites. “This may be your best creation yet.”
“I’m with Will,” my dad adds.
“You guys can just call me Berry Crocker.” He snorts, clearly pleased with himself, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Your appointment is this week, right?” I ask him.
He nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Yes, and I’m hoping to get cleared finally.”
Colt’s been working his ass off, trying to get back to where he was pre-injury. I’m proud of how far he’s come, and how responsible he’s been about it. Aside from that one time right after the accident where he was working out when he shouldn’t have, he’s been taking it slow and following doctor’s orders for everything.
“I’ve got a good feeling about it,” I tell him, trying to reassure him because I know he’s anxious. “You’ve come so far, and you’re doing so well. ”
The last month has been nothing short of amazing. Getting to be out in the open with him and my feelings for him, getting to hold his hand in public. Kiss him while we’re out and about. Max and I still aren’t on the best of terms, but we’re getting there. I think it’ll be a slow process, but it’s one I’m willing to be patient about. His relationship with Colt is probably going to take a little more time, mostly due to how stubborn Colt is. He would never admit it, but I think he’s hurt, more than anything, and that hurt is causing him to want to turn the other cheek and not even try to mend the relationship.
Which, of course, is every bit his right, and he’s entitled to his own feelings, but I think if he put the stubborn hat to the side, took his own feelings out of it, he’d see where Max is coming from. It doesn’t help that Max is equally stubborn as his son.
Sunday dinners are still paused for the time being, but I think with time, things will be okay. Trish has come over to Colt’s a few times, and we had her over for dinner the other night here. She seems a lot more on board with our relationship than Max does. I want to say it’s surprising, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s really not. She’s a loving, open-minded person, and all she wants is for her son to be happy. Max does too, but it’s different because of our friendship.
We finish eating, and I clean up the kitchen and the breakfast dishes while Colt heads up to my room to shower for the day. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, taking turns staying at each other’s houses, but lately, it’s been more of him at my house. I can’t deny how much I love waking up with him in my bed. And even though he’s never come out and said as much, I know my dad really enjoys having Colt around too. Their relationship warms my heart .
Prior to leaving Seattle, I had a feeling Dad was lonely, and had been since my mom died, but he didn’t want to say anything. Being here now, seeing him with Colt and with me, I know I was right. His mood is so much brighter now than it was whenever I would video chat with him. Moving back was the right call, on so many counts. It feels like everything I have now has happened exactly as it was supposed to. Everything in life led me to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thankful.
The idea of asking Colt to move in with me has been playing around in my mind, but I worry it’s too soon. Then again, everything with us seems to happen quicker than I thought it would, and nothing has ever felt better. Maybe that’s just how we are. And we spend nearly every night together anyway. Would it really make that much of a difference?
I don’t know. I don’t have to decide today, but I sure want to.
I wander out to the living room, finding my dad taking his usual late morning nap in his recliner, with Winnie passed out on his lap too. Smiling to myself, I bound up the stairs, finding Colt in nothing more than a towel in my room, water droplets clinging to his chest and shoulders.
He smirks when he sees me, and fuck, the sight takes my breath away and has my blood pumping hotter. Despite fucking him into the mattress just last night, I’m already dying for more.
“Lose the towel,” I growl, stalking toward him.
The smile on his face quickly morphs into something more heated, as he does exactly as I say, unhooking the knot around his waist, letting the material fall to the ground. Biting down on his bottom lip, he peers at me from beneath his lashes as I approach. “How do you want me, Doc?”
The sultry lilt to his voice goes straight to my balls. Reaching behind my head, I yank off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor as I drop my sweats, adding them to the discarded clothes pile. I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, hauling his body to mine. Keeping my hand there, I place my other around his hip as I crash my mouth against his. His breath is minty, like he brushed his teeth as soon as he got out of the shower, and his clean, fresh body wash wafts around us, making my head dizzy.
Colt tilts his head to the side, lips parting as my tongue slips inside, rolling along his. He tastes amazing, and in no time, we’re both hard and ready to go. My sexual appetite with Colt is unlike anything I’ve seen from myself since my twenties. I’m insatiable for him, but luckily, he always seems to be as insatiable for me.
“Hands and knees on the bed,” I tell him, reaching into the nightstand and grabbing the bottle of lube I keep in there. Spread wide open for me, I allow myself a moment to take in the sight of Colt. Cock hard, balls full, they hang heavy between his legs while his tight, pink hole is on display for me. My mouth waters the longer I admire him, and before I can stop myself, I spread him impossibly wider with my hands, burying my head between his cheeks.
I drag my tongue across his taint, all the way up his crease, reveling in the way he gasps and arches his back, needy for more. Reaching between his thighs, I wrap a hand around his cock, pumping him in my fist as I eat him out. Once I feel the muscle loosen up a little, I ease my index finger inside, fucking him with it nice and slow before adding a second. He cries so beautifully when I crook my fingers and graze that sweet spot inside of him, the sound causing my cock to ache and leak.
“I need more,” he gasps. “Fuck me, William. Please .”
He pushes back onto my fingers, tossing me a look over his shoulders. He looks gone . His eyes are heavy, cheeks flushed, brows pinched together. Withdrawing my fingers, I grab the lube and lather it all over my cock, loving the way he watches as I do it. My blood is drenched with an overwhelming amount of desire, my heart catapulting in my chest. Coating his hole with a generous layer of lube, I toss the bottle to the side before climbing on the bed behind him, lining myself up.
Not giving me a chance to ease into it, Colt pushes back, spearing himself on my cock in one swift go. He throws his head back as we let out a groan in unison. The pressure and the heat surrounding my length have my eyes rolling back as my hands find purchase on his hips, nails digging into the flesh in a way I’m sure will leave a bruise later.
“You’re desperate for my cock, aren’t you, baby?” I ask, voice raspy and low.
“You know I am,” he moans, fucking himself on me like the needy little slut he is.
“You been thinking about doing exactly this all morning?”
“Yes.”
Making us breakfast in my kitchen while you imagine me stuffing you with my cock?”
Fuck,” he gasps. “Yes!”
“On your stomach,” I growl, pulling out of him long enough for him to oblige.
Colt closes his legs, pressing them tight as I straddle him with my legs on either side of his body. I spread him open with one hand while I guide my cock back into his channel with my other. The new position nearly makes me come on the spot.
“Fuck, Doc,” Colt moans. “You feel so good.”
Once I’m fully seated, I blanket his body with my own, bringing my hand around his throat as I use it to pull his head back. Bringing my lips to the shell of his ear, I nip at his earlobe. “You feel fucking perfect,” I grit out, hips snapping against his tight ass. “Whose ass is this? Let me hear you.”
“Yours!”
A grin splits my face. “That’s right, baby. And who fucks you this good?”
“You do,” he pants.
“Louder,” I growl. “Who fucks you this good? Who has you sweating and crying and writhing?”
“You do!”
“You’re perfect,” I confess in his ear. “ God, you’re fucking perfect.”
Despite being pinned to the bed underneath me, Colt still manages to arch his back, pushing back against me like he just can’t help himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m close,” he cries out, throat muscles tightening beneath my hand. “Don’t…. stop!”
“That’s it,” I coo into his ear. “Come for me, baby. Let me see what I do to you. Give me that sweet fucking cum.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” At this point, his voice is nothing more than a hoarse rasp, and I know the minute he lets go because his ass strangles my cock, clenching as he spills all over the bed.
“That’s it. Such a good boy.”
It’s not long before I follow, groaning and panting as I release deep inside of him. We’re both a sweaty mess by the time I pull out of him, but I can’t help but pause and watch my cum drip down his thigh. There’s something so primal and possessive about watching it spill out of him. I can’t help myself… I reach out, pushing it back in with my thumb.
“So much for that shower,” Colt breathes out, rolling over to glance up at me.
“Come on, let’s take another.” Holding out my hand, he takes it, letting me pull him to a stand.
What a fan-fucking-tastic way to spend my Sunday morning.