From War to Forever

by Andria Large

  I smile. “Thanks, bud.”

  We have a really nice dinner filled with love and laughter. I’ve never seen Lizette happier. She deserves every bit of that happiness too. She’s a great woman—sister, wife, and friend—and she will make a great mother as well.

  Chapter Nine

  TUCKER

  “HEY, I’M planning on going down to Philly to see my nephew this weekend. Want to come with me?” I ask Dennis.

  It’s his night off, and we’re sitting at the table having dinner. Nothing fancy, just some chicken, rice, and veggies. It’s been a couple of weeks since Lizette announced that she’s pregnant, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my li’l man, Max, ever since. It’s been way longer than I like to go without seeing him, and I know my brother is pissed at me for not being there in a while.

  Dennis pauses midbite and lifts his eyes to meet mine. “As your best friend or your boyfriend?”

  “Best friend.”

  I’m not exactly sure what my family is going to think about me dating a man. They’ve never seemed to be against gay relationships, although we’ve never really discussed it. I don’t know how they would feel about me being in one. I have heard my brother make gay jokes and say shit about gays over the years, but a lot of people do.

  Dennis nods. “Okay, I’ll go. I just have to get someone to fill in at the pub.”

  “Would you have agreed to go if I said boyfriend?” I tease.

  He smiles mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I bark out a laugh. Dennis has been an entirely different person the past couple of weeks since learning of Lizette’s pregnancy. He laughs and jokes and smiles. And, yes, he started doing these things before, but it’s even more frequent now. I can see he’s happy with how his life is at the moment, and that makes me insanely happy too. Also, now that we’ve been sharing a bed, I haven’t been having nightmares like I used to. It’s such a relief to not relive those horrific scenes in my head every night.

  “Wanna take my bike?” I ask hopefully, even though I already know the answer is going to be no.

  Dennis hates my bike. Well, not so much the bike itself, but me riding it. He’s afraid I’m eventually going to get killed on it. Especially because I’m deaf and can’t hear things around me. I love riding, though; it’s freeing.

  “Hell no! I’m not doing a two-hour drive riding bitch on your motorcycle.”

  I chuckle. I watch Dennis as he continues to eat. He recently got his hair trimmed, and he’s been leaving his face scruffy because I mentioned I liked it. His green eyes seem more alive now; that icy deadness that used to be there is gone. I didn’t think he could get more handsome, but shit, he’s more gorgeous than ever now he’s happy. I find myself just staring at him now and having to force myself to look away. Also doesn’t help that I’m head over heels in fucking love with him.

  When he’s finished eating, he gets up and takes his plate to the sink. He normally has a slight limp, but right now, it’s fairly pronounced. I frown. He’s obviously in pain. He stands at the sink, putting most of his weight on his good leg as he cleans up the counter.

  “Hey, Dennis, why don’t you let me do that so you can go sit down, maybe take off the prosthetic?” I suggest.

  I see Dennis heave a sigh and shut off the water. He must really be hurting if he’s giving up that easily. He makes his way over to the couch and drops down onto it. He rolls up the right leg of his pants so he can reach everything. First he has to take off the actual prosthetic. He does that by pressing a button down by the ankle joint that releases the pin holding the prosthetic on. Once he takes that off, he can roll down the silicone liner he has to wear. The liner has the pin on the bottom that attaches into the base of the prosthetic.

  Dennis works hard to keep his right thigh from shrinking, but there isn’t much he can do for the calf muscle that’s left, which has shrunk significantly. He stretches out his leg.

  “When was the last time you had your prosthetic adjusted?” I ask. He should probably be going somewhat often to get adjustments; at least that’s what I’ve deduced from doing some research online recently. I started looking into different options regarding prosthetics. I want him to get a new one altogether, but if he won’t because of money, then he at least needs to keep up with the maintenance of the one he has.

  Dennis looks over at me. “I don’t know; it’s been a while. But that’s not even what’s bothering me right now. It’s phantom pain. It feels like my foot—which isn’t there—is being stabbed repeatedly. Fucking annoying,” he huffs.

  “Will aspirin help?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Nothing seems to help me with phantom pains.”

  “Damn,” I mutter dejectedly.

  Dennis shrugs and moves to lie down on the couch. He turns on the TV, probably hoping to take his mind off the pain. I finish cleaning up the mess from dinner, then go over to the couch. I climb on top of Dennis and lie on him. I can give him a better distraction than the TV. He lifts an eyebrow in question. I smile and lean down to kiss him softly. Dennis slides his hands over my hips to cup my ass. He squeezes my cheeks and pulls me tighter against him.

  “Will fucking me take your mind off the pain?” I murmur against his lips.

  Dennis nods, knowing I can’t see his mouth. I smile and kiss him again. I tilt my head to deepen the kiss. Dennis slips his hands under the waistband of my underwear and grips my ass. I can’t begin to count how many times he’s fucked me stupid over the past couple of weeks. I want to say it’s been every day, at least once, if not twice. I had no idea getting fucked in the ass could be this satisfying; otherwise, I might have tried it sooner.

  “Let me go get the lube,” I murmur and trot down the hall to the bedroom.

  I return with the bottle and set it on the coffee table. I also grabbed a towel, which I lay on the couch so we don’t leave stains. Dennis has stripped and moved to a kneeling position on the couch. He’s stroking his rigid cock as he watches me with heavy-lidded eyes.

  My dick throbs at the sight of him—his broad shoulders and defined chest with its dusting of dark hair. The six-pack that tapers down to that V of muscle at his hips. His thighs are hard and corded with muscle. He is seriously drool-worthy.

  I wrench my shirt over my head and toss it away. My pants are next to go. I stalk over to Dennis, who’s watching every move I make with hungry eyes. When I get within reach, he grabs me and shoves me down onto the couch, face-first. Fuck, I love it when he gets rough. He grabs my arms and forces them behind my back, where his big hand encircles both of my wrists at the small of my back. I groan and thrust my hips against the towel, trying to get some relief for my aching cock.

  Dennis uses his other hand to lift my hips and make me get to my knees. So now my face is smashed into the couch cushion, my arms are locked behind my back, and my ass is up in the air and on display for him.

  I almost jump out of my skin when he smacks my ass hard. I wasn’t expecting it. He smooths his hand over my stinging skin. Then I feel his hot breath whisper over the spot he slapped. Anticipation skitters across my skin, and I inhale sharply. A sudden bite on my asscheek has me yelping. This is all new. Dennis hasn’t done anything like this to me before, but holy fuck, I am loving it. Then I feel his warm, wet tongue circle my hole, and my eyes roll back in my head.

  “Fuuuuuuuck.” I arch my back to try to get more from Dennis’s delicious mouth.

  He hasn’t done this yet either, and I’ve been curious how it would feel. It feels a-fucking-mazing. Dennis moves his free hand between my legs, where he fists my cock and pumps lazily. I moan long and low, rocking my hips to his leisurely pace. His wicked tongue continues to torture me until my body is trembling and I’m begging him to take me.

  “Denny, please! I—” I shout with pleasure when Dennis inserts two fingers. “Babe, please!”

  He immediately finds my prostate and starts a maddeningly slow rhythm of brushing over it as he fucks me with his finger
s. His other hand is still holding my wrists at the small of my back. I swear he’s trying to drive me insane with need.

  “For the love of God, Dennis! Fuck me!” I shout hoarsely.

  This slow burn is driving me crazy. I crane my neck to try to get a glimpse of him, but it’s difficult from this position. He removes his fingers, and I see him reach for the lube on the table. Thank fucking God! I can’t see or hear what he’s doing, but I’m assuming he’s putting the lube on himself. He returns the bottle to the table, and I feel the tip of his cock rub against my hole. I let out a whimper and tilt my hips up to give him better access. I feel like a total slut, but I’m too far gone to even care.

  Dennis pushes in. When he’s finally fully sheathed, a relieved sob bursts out of me. Christ, he feels so fucking good. Dennis moves slowly, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. He releases my wrists but grabs me by the throat and pulls me up to my knees. I have to arch my back to keep him from slipping out. I clutch the backs of his thighs for balance. His free hand wraps around my dick and strokes in time with the snap of his hips. I grunt with each thrust because I just can’t help it. Dennis’s mouth finds the side of my neck. This has to be one of the hottest positions we’ve done, and I love the feel of his hand at my throat. It’s possessive, basically saying, “You’re mine.”

  Dennis tightens his grip on my cock, and I gasp. My orgasm builds quickly. He drags his mouth up my neck to my ear. He catches the lobe between his teeth, giving it a little tug before letting go and licking his way back down my neck to my shoulder. His chest vibrates against my shoulder blades, and I feel the rush of his heated breath along my skin as he moans.

  “Oh God, Dennis. I’m gonna come…,” I pant, dropping my head back to his shoulder.

  He focuses on the sensitive head of my cock, knowing that will tip me over the edge. And it does. I come hard, my whole body jerking as I let out a guttural shout and claw at the backs of his thighs. I don’t even realize his hand that was at my throat is around my waist until I fold forward. Dennis continues to pound into me, hitting my prostate, causing me to continue to spasm in his arms. He finishes with a few final thrusts, shoving in deep. I can feel him coming inside of me, which I find hot as hell.

  He collapses, forcing us both down onto the couch. I end up lying on the towel with my jizz on it. Lovely. Dennis is breathing heavily on top of me, his forehead resting against the back of my head. After we take a moment to catch our breath, he pulls out and sits down by my feet. I shift onto my side and look down the length of the couch at him.

  “How does your leg feel now?” I ask with a smirk.

  “What leg?” he snorts.

  I let out a breathy laugh and sit up on the towel. The only thing that sucks about sex is the mess you have to clean up afterward. I can already feel Dennis’s come slipping back out. I situate the towel between my legs and hold it so when I stand, I won’t be making a mess on the floor on my way to the bathroom. I catch Dennis throwing his head back in laughter as he watches me. I glance down at myself. Yeah, I’m basically wearing a diaper.

  “We should pick up some Depends for these kinds of situations,” I murmur wryly.

  Dennis is laughing so hard tears are welling in his eyes. I love seeing him like this.

  “I’m going to clean up,” I grunt and make my way to the bathroom.

  DENNIS

  THE DRIVE to Philly is nice. Tucker and I have a few good laughs. I feel so much lighter these days; I’m still adjusting to this new me. We can’t talk too much in the car because whoever is driving has to keep an eye on the road, so we can’t face each other when talking, and to use sign language means whoever is driving has to end up using their knee to steer, which has almost gotten us into accidents on multiple occasions.

  Tucker is driving since he knows the way better than I do. It takes us just under two hours to arrive. His brother’s house is an attractive attached home that’s a mixture of brick and siding. They have a small driveway that only fits the two cars that are there, and the front yard is minimal, but it is nicely landscaped. We get out of the car and start up the short walkway to the front door.

  “Looks like my parents made the drive too,” Tucker says, an odd tone to his voice.

  “That’s nice. I’ll get to meet them,” I return in sign language.

  He glances at me, a sad glint in his eye. “My mother is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t always know who we are anymore. So I apologize in advance if she says anything inappropriate.”

  I frown at him. “You don’t have to apologize for something you have no control over, Tuck.”

  “I just…. You never know what’s going to come out of her mouth. You’ll be better off just playing along with her, otherwise she gets upset.”

  The look on his face breaks my heart. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. What’s even worse is I wish my parents would forget about me. That makes me feel like a horrible person, but after what they put me through growing up, I can’t help how I feel. But Tucker? Tucker loves his mother, and it hurts him deeply that she forgets who he is.

  “Okay, that’s not a problem. I’ll be whoever she thinks I am,” I say with a small smile, hoping to lighten his mood.

  He gives me a grateful smile in return. “Thank you.”

  Tucker doesn’t bother knocking. He opens the front door and walks into the house. I follow, closing the door behind me. In the living room, a couple I assume to be Tucker’s parents are sitting on the couch. When they see us, his father jumps up.

  “Tucker!” he exclaims with a huge grin and opens his arms.

  Tucker smiles brightly at his father, who he looks so much like. He gives his old man a big bear hug. When they separate, his father examines the fresh scar on Tucker’s head. It’s been two weeks since the incident with my father, and the stitches came out a few days ago.

  “What happened to your head?” he asks.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” Tucker replies quietly.

  His dad nods, then turns toward his wife, who is sitting there patiently waiting.

  “Look, hon, it’s Tucker, your son,” he says.

  Her gaze moves to Tucker. She studies him for a moment before shaking her head. “No, no, I don’t have any kids. You must be mistaken.”

  His father’s face falls, and he presses his lips together as he nods. “You’re right. I must be mistaken.”

  He sends Tucker an apologetic glance. Tucker just shrugs. His father finally notices me standing there and gives me a tight smile. “Hey there. I’m Tom.” He extends his hand.

  I step forward and give it a firm shake. “I’m Dennis.”

  Recognition fills his gaze. “Ah! Dennis! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Tucker has told us all about you,” he says, shaking my hand more vigorously.

  Tom McCoy is about the same height as Tucker, but he’s much stockier. His dark brown hair is cut short and peppered with gray. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and khakis. I can see past the act he seems to have put in place. On the outside, he pretends to be a happy-go-lucky guy, thrilled to see his son, excited to meet me, which he very well may be, but it’s still an act. He’s a broken man on the inside. I’m sure it has everything to do with his wife’s disease.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” I smile.

  “Dennis, this is my wife, Sherry.”

  Tucker steps back so I can move in to meet his mother. I squat down next to the couch and hold out my hand. She smiles brightly and shakes it.

  “I’m Dennis,” I tell her.

  “Hello, Dennis. I’m Sherry,” she says cheerily.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sherry.”

  “You too, sweetheart. Have we met before?” she asks.

  “No, ma’am, first time.”

  “You’re a very handsome man.” She grins.

  I laugh. “Thank you.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a Marine, but I’ve
been discharged. Now I’m the head bouncer at a pub in New York City.”

  “A Marine? My son, Tucker, is a Marine,” she replies with a proud smile.

  She then glances over my shoulder. I can see the moment she recognizes Tucker, who is standing behind me.

  “Oh! Tucker! When did you get here? I was just talking to this lovely young man about you,” she says, holding her hands out to him.

  I step aside and let Tucker move in to give her a hug and kiss. “It’s good to see you, Mom,” he says, his voice strained from emotion.

  She grabs his face and plants a kiss on his forehead. “You are such a handsome man, but you need a haircut,” she teases, plucking at a curl hanging down over his forehead.

  He smiles. “I know.”

  She lets him go, and as soon as he straightens, a man and woman enter the living room from the kitchen. Seems like all of the McCoy men look alike, because there’s no mistaking that this guy and Tucker are brothers. I pat Tucker on the shoulder to get his attention since he’s still watching his mother. When he turns, he gives his brother a nod, then reluctantly turns away from his mom to give him and his sister-in-law a hug. He then motions for me to join him. I step up next to him and let him do the introductions.

  “Rhys, Selene, this is my buddy, Dennis. Dennis, this is my older brother, Rhys, and his wife, Selene.”

  I shake their hands. “Nice to meet you guys.”

  “You too. We’ve heard a lot about you,” Rhys says.

  “God, I hope not too much,” I groan, making them laugh.

  “Make yourself at home, Dennis. The fridge is stocked with beer, water, soda, and food. Just help yourself,” Selene says sweetly.

  She’s a pretty woman, on the curvier side, with dark, almost black hair, long and straight. Her eyes are a beautiful crystal blue you can’t help but look at because of how they stand out again the darkness of her hair.

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  “Where’s my little buddy?” Tucker asks.

  “Taking a nap. He should be up in about half an hour,” Selene supplies.