by Lane Hayes
Aaron chuckled. “No, but it’s probably good to discuss this now and avoid future arguments.”
“We rarely fight, Aar.” I traced his crack with my middle finger and licked his neck. “And I think this matters more to you than it does to me. Sullivan-Mendez or vice versa or you take my name or I take yours…whatever you want is fine by me.”
“Really? You’d take my name? Oh. What are you doing?”
“I’m putting my finger in your ass,” I purred as I pushed a digit between his cheeks and tapped his entrance. “And yeah…why not?”
“Fuck, that feels good.” He lowered his hand and jacked my cock through my basketball shorts. The thin material made it easy for him to grip my shaft. “You know I’ll probably take yours, though.”
“Hmm. My name or my dick?” I asked, pushing the tip of my finger inside.
Aaron laid his head on my shoulder and groaned. “Yes, but I want your dick now.”
I slapped his ass, loving the way he shivered in response. I sucked on his bottom lip and gestured for him to face the counter.
“Please tell me there’s lube somewhere in this kitchen,” I pleaded as I freed my cock from my shorts. I stroked myself a few times, then pressed my length between his ass cheeks and pumped my hips as I reached around to grip his prick.
“Mmm, yes. The top drawer next to the fridge.” Aaron bent over the counter and stuck his ass out in a blatant invitation that instantly made me lightheaded.
I pushed my shorts down my legs and stepped out of them, then went to search for the lube. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it onto the counter, next to Aaron. I would have kicked off my shoes and socks too, but the sight of my man bent over, swaying his ass seductively, was too enticing. I couldn’t wait. I opened the bottle, poured a generous amount on my fingers, and immediately pushed a digit inside his hole. Aaron winced and went still.
“Shh. I’m sorry. I’ll go slower, baby.” I ran my free hand along his spine and whispered sweet-nothings until he begged me for a second finger. And a third.
“Now Matty. Please.”
I added more lube, set my cock at his entrance, and pushed. I snaked my arm around him, pulling him against my chest before biting his shoulder. I kissed it better and told him how damn amazing he felt as he lowered himself, inch by inch. When his ass rubbed against my balls, I kissed his ear and breathed him in.
“I love this. I want this forever. I love you, Aar. So much, baby.”
He twisted sideways and brushed his nose against mine. “I love you too, Matty.”
Aaron closed his eyes when I surged forward. The urge to fuck him and dominate him was strong, but I took my time. We moved together in a gentle push and pull that slowly built to a steady thrusting motion. I held him close, fondling his balls while he stroked himself. Sex in the kitchen wearing sneakers with an open dishwasher next to us brought to mind wild, frenzied fuck sessions. But this felt oddly intimate and almost sweet in a way I couldn’t easily define.
We’d done a variation in this kitchen many times in the past. On the island, over the barstools, against the refrigerator. Just last week, he climbed onto my lap buck-ass naked while I sat fully clothed on a dining room chair, then impaled himself on my shaft. The contrast of business exec chic with his naked state had been a heady aphrodisiac.
This was different. The passionate connection was the same, but the underlying message punctuated with thrusts, sighs, and groping hands felt poignant somehow. Like a perfect fusion of lust and love…of friendship and commitment. And when I lost my rhythm, I clung tightly to him and came deep inside him, I felt joyful and light and grateful.
I didn’t understand how it was possible, but I loved him more every day. I loved his heart, his kindness, and the childlike pieces of him that wanted to make the people he loved happy and proud. And the strong man underneath who recognized the need to make new rules and new traditions.
For us.
Part 4-
Aaron’s parents loved me. I admit that probably had something to do with the fact that I liked sports. Sure, they appreciated that I loved their son too, but they also liked that I could watch endless baseball, football, and hockey games with his dad while Aaron helped his mom in the kitchen. Maybe our interests were somewhat stereotypical, but it was just who we were. I liked sports and couldn’t boil water without making a mess. Aaron liked to cook, and he still referred to “halftime” as “intermission” regardless of how many times I’d corrected him. His very traditional Puerto Rican parents didn’t fully understand the idea of two men in a committed relationship, so they fixated on the stereotypical aspects they could relate to. According to Aaron, they heteronormalized us, but at least they tried.
Most of the time Aaron was happy they made an effort but sometimes, it drove him crazy. He was torn between being grateful for their love and support and frustrated that they weren’t able to see his side. He made concessions where he could in an effort to honor his parents because underneath the light eyeliner and the faint touch of gloss on his full lips, he was a good Catholic boy who wanted to make his folks proud.
However, neither of us was willing to make any more major exceptions on our wedding day. And telling them wasn’t going to be easy.
Aaron was mostly quiet on the drive from DC to the Maryland suburb where he’d grown up. I didn’t press him, and I didn’t complain about the techno-pop dance music he insisted would help his nerves. I kept my left hand on the steering wheel and held his hand with my right in a show of solidarity. We were a team now. He wasn’t on his own.
I let go when we reached the turnoff and gave him a sideways smile. “How are you?”
“Fine. Will you pull over?”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
I turned into a residential section a couple of blocks away from his parents’ home and pulled over to the side of the road next to a high row of hedges. He took his seat belt off when I stopped the car and bent over, resting his forehead on his knees.
“Aar?” I rubbed his back and threaded my fingers through his hair. “Baby, look at me.”
He sat up and obeyed. “Can we just elope?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Is it the money? ’Cause I don’t care about the money and I can try to get our deposits if—oh, my God. I really am going to get sick.” He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut.
“No, you’re not. You’re fine. You’re just nervous, Aar. I get it, but it’s going to be okay. Open your eyes,” I instructed firmly. I traced his jaw and ran my thumbs over his cheekbones soothingly. “I’m here too, you know. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
“I’m not worried about them hurting me. It’s the other way around. I’m going to hurt them, and I hate that. I feel so selfish. My mom has always been in my corner. Always. It kills me to think she’s going to be disappointed.”
“She’s going to be okay with it. Maybe not today, but she’ll come around,” I said.
“What if she doesn’t? What if she won’t speak to me?”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. “That’s not gonna happen. You’re losing it, babe.”
“I am losing it! I’m seriously going nuts. I’m freaking out over the craziest shit and second-guessing decisions like: Did I go overboard on the cake design? Did I choose too many orange flowers? Am I going to break my mom’s heart when I tell her we don’t want the deacon anywhere near our ceremony?” He took a ragged breath and added, “And what happens if you change your mind and—”
“Aaron, stop.”
He covered his face in his hands, then looked up and sighed. “I had a nightmare last night that you left me at the altar. I woke up in a panic. I was sweaty and my heart was beating so fast I couldn’t breathe. It took a second before the fog cleared and I realized we were home in bed and that you hadn’t left me for your ex, and you weren’t singing to her or—”
“Oh, my God. Aar
, you have to stop.” I held his chin and gave him a stern look as I leaned across the console to kiss him. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Right,” he scoffed. “Doesn’t everyone want to be woken up at four a.m. by their lunatic fiancé blabbering about a bad dream? Scratch that…any dream featuring my boss, my mother, and your ex-girlfriend is a full-blown nightmare. I suppose I should just be grateful your mom wasn’t in it too.”
I bit my lip to hide my smile. “Wow. That does sound terrible. But you know I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know, but it was horrible. And I don’t need a psychologist to tell me that it was a sign that I have too much stress in my life. I can’t even close my eyes without my brain coming up with more things to stress about. Last night, for example…I got demoted at work, my parents disowned me, and you sang our song to your ex! I’m afraid to go to sleep,” he grumbled unhappily.
“It was just a dream, babe,” I replied calmly. I turned off the engine and opened my door. “Come on. Let’s leave the car here and walk to your parents’ house.”
“What? No. We’re already late and—”
“We’re not late. And if we are, they’ll forgive us. You need some fresh air before you hyperventilate. Let’s go.”
Aaron joined me on the sidewalk and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. In spite of his fragile mental state, he looked sexy as fuck in his snug-fitted light-blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. I was dressed similarly in a black polo, but I couldn’t quite pull off casual chic the way my man did. I put my arm over his shoulder and kissed his temple, then laced my fingers through his.
“Are you sure you want to hold my hand?” he asked dubiously. I could tell from his tone he was pleased.
I kissed his knuckles and nodded. We walked down the sidewalk, lost in our thoughts for a few minutes. I paused in front of the deserted park and inclined my head. “Five minutes on the swings. What do you say?”
Aaron grinned. “Okay.”
I was a little surprised he trudged through the sand without complaint. Wanting to distract him, I made small talk about the warm weather, the blue skies, and how quiet it seemed in the park. We sat side-by-side on the black rubber industrial swings, holding on to the thick chains while we swayed to and fro.
“Did you play here when you were a kid?”
“All the time. There’s a bigger park on the next block with new equipment, but when I was little, this one was the only game in town. The woods just beyond are a great place to play tag or hide and seek,” he said, gesturing to the copse of tall trees nearby. “I’m a fast runner and an excellent hider and seeker, so I was usually the first one to suggest a game. Life was so much easier back then. Being a grown-up sucks.”
“Not always. Sometimes, it’s pretty cool. Like now. Well, minus the mini breakdown. Ow.” I chuckled lightly, twisting my swing out of reach when he smacked my arm playfully.
“I’m sorry I flipped out. I’ll be fine after I get this off my chest and tell my parents how we feel. Just…don’t give up on me, Matty,” he said with a lopsided smile.
“I wouldn’t,” I replied. “Listen, I know they’re your parents, but I want you to let me handle this.”
He swiped at the stray hair in his eyes, then cocked his head. “What do you mean? How?”
“I’ll do the talking. I’ll explain our decision and put a nice spin on it. I’m a lawyer. I’m good at that stuff. You can chime in whenever you want, of course, but I think it might be better coming from me. Less guilt and emotion, you know?”
“I’m trying not to be emotional but—”
“You can be as emotional as you want. It just means you care. But this is stressing you out, and I can help. Will you trust me?”
Aaron pursed his lips and dabbed at the corner of his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just take a deep breath and relax. Everything is under control. Work is going well, your parents love you, I love you, and if you feel overwhelmed, talk to me. I don’t want you to get sick and worn down because of bad dreams and—”
“It was the worst dream. Marsha told me I should be the office coffee boy, my parents wouldn’t open their front door when I knocked and then…” He twisted the chains of his swing and pushed his glasses down his nose to give me an incredulous look. “We were at a party with a lot of people, and suddenly it was just me and you and your ex. And it was fine until you started singing to her. I couldn’t actually hear music or words, but I knew you were giving her something that belonged to me and I screamed and…woke up sweating and shaking. It was awful.”
“But it didn’t happen, and it never would,” I assured him patiently.
“I know.” His smile was sweet and sincere.
We entwined our feet and swayed together like two birds on a branch for a minute. Then I stood and moved behind him. I captured his head and pulled his glasses from his nose and kissed him upside down. “Want a push?”
Aaron giggled. “Sure. Why not?”
“Hang on tight,” I warned. I hooked his glasses in my shirt and grabbed the chain links on either side of him, then stepped back and let go.
“Ha. I don’t think I’ve ever been pushed on a swing by a boy I liked,” he said dreamily.
“You mean I’m your first?” I joked.
“Yes. You—whoa…Matt! That’s too high!”
I pushed the swing and ran underneath it, sending him flying. He howled with laughter as he soared skyward before coming back to earth. He was so pretty and vibrant and full of joy and ready to begin a new life with me. As husbands. My heart skipped a beat, then did a somersault and cartwheel. And in that moment, it felt like a really big deal that he wanted me forever. Like a gift of some kind. I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t have words to match the sound of his laughter or the way his smile began in his eyes and poured out of him in waves.
My throat closed around the sappy sentiments. I knew better than to try to voice them in words. But I could sing to him instead.
“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…”
Aaron locked eyes with me and dragged his feet in the sand until he slowed to a stop. I reached for his hand and linked our fingers, singing out the lyrics to Elton John’s “Your Song” just for him. His eyes shone bright with unshed tears and an intense look of adoration and affection. If it was possible, I swear I fell even deeper in love with him.
Aaron seemed calmer by the time we reached his parents’ street. Unfortunately, all his angst had transferred to me. Okay, that was an exaggeration. I wasn’t overly nervous, but I wished I’d had more time to prepare my argument. Aaron and I had been a couple for a long time, and the Mendez family had been welcoming from the beginning. Unlike my own family. Scratch that…my mom was the only Sullivan who’d struggled with my sexuality. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Aaron. She did. But she would have preferred that he wasn’t a man. Eventually she’d learned to accept that I loved him and that I wasn’t going to change my mind, but she’d caused some tension along the way. Through every bit of drama my mom introduced, I was grateful to Aaron’s parents for their steady support. But this was still our wedding, and we were doing this our way.
I squeezed his hand when we paused at the bottom of the brick path leading to the two-story home where Aaron had grown up.
“You ready?”
“Yes.” Aaron nodded, then yanked me backward. “Wait—no. What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’ll come to me.”
“You can’t wing this, Matty. Practice on me first, and I’ll tell you if it’ll fly.”
I furrowed my brow and let out an exasperated huff. “You’re going to have to trust me. I didn’t write a speech but—”
“I did and I memorized the whole thing. The original is in Spanish but here’s a synopsis…‘Mama, Papa, gracias por—’ ”
“That’s still Spanish,” I commented, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh. Right. Um…�
��Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. We love you and appreciate you, but we’ve decided to go a different route regarding our wedding service.’ ”
“Sounds like a resignation letter, babe.”
“Dammit. You’re right. It sounded better en español.” And he was off.
I let him recite his speech in his parents’ native tongue for a minute or so before setting my hand over his mouth and kissing his forehead. “Cool it, Aar. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
“So you say, but…how will you start? Do you have an intro handy or an ice-breaker?”
I pulled off my sunglasses, then slipped my hand in his and headed for the front door. “You want me to tell a joke? Maybe you should tell one in Spanish and once you get them laughing, I’ll tell them our plans.”
“That’s actually a good idea. That way they’ll still like me and—”
“I was kidding, Aar. They love you and they always will.” I paused at the top step and straightened his collar. It was perfect, of course, but I needed to keep my hands busy because in spite of my encouraging words, I was nervous as hell. One of us had to fake it, though. I took a deep breath and gave him a lopsided smile. “Hey, are you gonna love any of our children less if they don’t do things exactly the way you hoped?”
Aaron’s grin was automatic. “Of course not! Nice move, Matty. You know I love it when you talk about future kids. It makes me feel…bubbly.”
I snorted. “Bubbly?”
“Yeah, like silly happy. We’re gonna do it all, aren’t we?”
I nodded. “Yes. Everything we said when we first met. House, kids, dog.”
“Hmm. I think we said kids, dog, and an apartment in the city.”
“We did.” I caressed his cheek, loving the way his eyes twinkled merrily at the memory of a long-ago conversation.
And just like that, I knew we were both remembering that Sunday morning when we’d first talked about “us.” We’d lain in my queen-sized bed in the bachelor pad I shared with Curt and our friend Dave and spent the morning sipping coffee and daydreaming. We’d painted a rough sketch of what we wanted in a relationship. We hadn’t dared to dream too far ahead. Calling each other ‘boyfriend’ had been as much as we were willing to commit to that day. What we’d had then was thrilling and new and scary as hell, but somehow I think I knew Aaron was “the one.”