by Quinn Ward
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” It’d been a while since Mama last got on my case about settling down with a nice girl to start a family of my own. She loved reminding me that she’d already had both me and Freddie before she was my age. That was well and good, but even if I wasn’t gay, I didn’t think I’d have felt any differently about kids. Meaning they were awesome as long as I could spend time with them and hand them off to someone else.
“You know, there’s an easy way to get her off your back for good,” Tony pointed out. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was about to suggest. No way in hell was I ready for that fight with Mama. As far as Italian Catholic women went, she was pretty progressive. She didn’t go on rants about how the gays were leading to the downfall of Christian marriage or preach to them about eternal damnation, but I doubted that grace extended to finding out one of her own kids was gay.
“Eventually,” I told him, because if I ever met a man I wanted to build a life with, I wouldn’t hide that from Mama. That is something she’d never forgive. “Right now, I want some time to focus on me. When the time’s right, I promise I’ll tell her.”
Tony grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. His expression was solemn. “Don’t wait too long, Frankie. Remember tomorrow is never guaranteed.”
I knew he was thinking about how suddenly Papa died. We’d all thought he was healthy for a man his age. We pushed him to take Mama on the vacations they’d always dreamed of after he signed control of the restaurant over to me. I was sure the airline tickets for the trip we’d given them for their twenty-fifth anniversary were still sitting in the top drawer of Mama’s dresser. The man who we’d all thought infallible had a massive heart attack less than a week before they were scheduled to leave.
“I won’t,” I promised. “I just need a little time. It’s messing with my mind that you know and you’re being so cool, but I’m not dumb enough to think everyone’s going to react the way you did.”
“You might be surprised.” He gathered me into a one-arm hug and thumped me on the back before heading to the dining room to get ready for the dinner rush. I watched him walk away, thinking about how little credit I’d given Tony over the years.
7
Calvin
As soon as I opened the front door, the scent of garlic and oregano filled my nostrils. I dropped my suitcase and kicked off my shoes, anxious to thank Frankie for ordering ahead. We’d hit insane traffic on the way home, probably from everyone trying to get in one last vacation before the end of summer, and the drive took nearly double the time it should have. I was mentally exhausted and every bone in my body reminded me I was on the wrong side of forty.
“Smells awesome in here, Dad.” Ryan shoved past me, heading for the kitchen. He’d been begging me to stop for the last hour of the drive, insisting he was starving. I’d almost caved a few times, but I irrationally believed the traffic would be worse if I exited the freeway and got back on after a pit stop.
“Shower first,” I called out. If I hadn’t been so anxious to get home, I’d have made the kid shower at the rink. Few things were more unpleasant than hours in a car with a sweaty teen and his rank hockey gear. I doubted I’d ever get the stench out of my upholstery.
Once I heard the bathroom door slam and the water turn on, I made my way into the kitchen. Frankie was dancing around the room, earbuds stuffed in his ears, which explained why he hadn’t heard the commotion when we’d come in. It amazed me how much more at ease he seemed in the past week.
When he bent over to reach into the oven, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I’d worked so hard all week to keep my hands to myself, but knowing he’d gone out of his way to have dinner ready when we got home was a gesture that deserved to be rewarded. I leaned against the door jamb, watching him until the pan was safely on the stovetop, then stepped behind him. He jumped when I placed a hand on his hip, spinning around to look up at me. I pulled out one of his earbuds and allowed my hand to rest against the side of his neck.
Frankie leaned into me, his eyes fluttering, silently begging me to kiss him. But I wouldn’t. Not yet. “You did this for us?”
“Thought it’d be better than pizza,” he responded, as if it was nothing special. He nodded to the Marino’s bag on the counter. “I grabbed it from the restaurant, so it’s not like I raced home and put everything together from scratch.”
“True, but it’s not who assembled the meal that matters.” I wouldn’t allow myself to taste his lips, but I did close the distance between us to brush my lips across his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Frankie’s cheeks darkened. It seemed he wasn’t accustomed to accepting praise. That was a foreign concept to me, because he always spoke highly of his family. It seemed to me his parents would’ve been the type to shower their children with love and compliments. “The lasagna needs to rest for a bit and I just put the garlic bread into the oven. Where’s Ryan?”
He tentatively placed his hand on my hip, pulling back when he realized he’d moved close enough our groins were nearly touching. I tightened my grip on him, holding him close to me. The contact was killing me since I couldn’t take things further with Ryan in the house and awake, but we’d been tap dancing around one another all week. Having him close felt good. More terrifying was that it felt right. Like he was always supposed to be there and now that he was, life could move forward.
“He’s grabbing a shower. Believe me, it’s for the best.”
Frankie laughed, fine lines forming at the corners of his eyes. He was too damn young for laugh lines or any other signs of aging. “Freddie played football and I played lacrosse, so I totally understand. I’m not sure how you put up with being in the same car as him. Most weeks, Papa was cursing up a blue streak by the time we could drive ten minutes home from our games.”
“Yeah, well we all make sacrifices for those we love,” I told him. The bathroom door opened, and I jumped back instinctively. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of following my desires, but if things between Frankie and me fizzled out, I didn’t want Ryan to feel as if he had to hate Frankie for my sake. The two of them had gotten along the first time they met, not quite friends, more like Frankie served as a bridge between me and my son.
Dinner was pleasant. Ryan thanked Frankie profusely around mouthfuls of pasta and bread. Frankie talked about the solution he and his brother had come up with so he wasn’t at the restaurant seven days a week. I was proud of him for taking that initiative and selfishly hoped the simple messages we’d been exchanging throughout the week had helped him realize it was okay to put himself first sometimes.
After dinner, we all moved from the bistro table in the kitchen to the living room. Before I could get myself a drink and settle into my chair, Ryan had made himself comfortable. I smacked his feet, which were draped over one of the arms of the chair. “If you wanted to stretch out, you should’ve taken the couch.”
“That wouldn’t have left anywhere for Frankie to sit,” he explained. “And I’m pretty sure putting my feet up on his lap would be crossing all sorts of dude boundaries.”
“Fine, but don’t make a habit of it.” He would, because my son loved driving me nuts by doing little things that annoyed me. I placed my glass of water on the end table while Frankie and Ryan argued over which flick to turn on. They tried asking for my input, but I couldn’t care less. The two of them finally settled on a movie, and I reached over to turn out the light. It’d been one hell of a weekend and I’d likely pass out within the hour. Until then, I was content to sit back and dream of a world where this was the norm.
As soon as the adrenaline and endorphins left Ryan’s system, he was out. I couldn’t see how sleeping draped over the chair as he was could be comfortable, but his soft snores made it clear he didn’t care. I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and rested my arm across the back of the couch. It was an odd length, not long enough to lay down comfortably but more than a love seat. My fingers brushed Frankie’s shoulder and he looked
over to smile at me. Without the stress he usually carried around, he looked younger.
“We don’t have to keep watching this if you’d prefer something else,” Frankie whispered. He leaned forward for a box of crackers, scooting a bit closer as he relaxed. The entire time, his eyes were glued to the action on the screen over the fireplace.
“I’m good,” I assured him. As the movie continued, my nerves settled and I began gently massaging Frankie’s neck. His head dropped forward and he let out a soft moan that went straight to my dick. He rolled his shoulders a few times. “Feels good.”
In a perfect world, we’d have the house to ourselves and I’d lead Frankie to his bedroom, strip him of all his clothes and massage every inch of his body until he was fully relaxed. But this wasn’t a perfect world, so I settled for turning my back to the arm of the couch, sliding one leg behind Frankie. “Come here.”
Frankie looked over to Ryan, whose head was flopped back as if he was missing a few vertebrae. “What if he wakes up?”
“I’ll tell him the truth. You’re tense and I’m helping you out. I’ve always been tactile, even when his mom and I were married. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
He didn’t seem convinced, but he shifted so his ass was nestled right against my groin. If I didn’t know how tentative he was about this level of closeness when we weren’t alone, I’d have accused him of wriggling around just to get a rise out of me. Frankie leaned forward slightly, giving me better access to his tight shoulders and back.
Glancing over to make sure Ryan was down for the count, I decided this was as good a time as any to chat a bit about how Frankie felt with the small taste I’d given him of how I saw us moving forward. “I know it’s not what you expected when I first told you to do some research, but are you okay with what we’ve done this past week?”
Frankie shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I still don’t see how you qualify sending me some reminders as kinky, but whatever. And honestly, I felt pretty stupid most of the time, because you were telling me to do stuff a grown man should know to do anyway.”
“Why did that make you feel stupid?” I asked, digging my fingers harder into his shoulders. Eventually, we’d chat about him degrading himself. He wasn’t stupid, he was busy trying to prove himself to a man who was no longer living to judge him.
“It’s common sense shit,” he explained. “I mean, who needs a reminder to eat or to be told when to go to bed?”
“Someone who’s grown accustomed to putting others first.” I tried kneading the muscles across Frankie’s back, but his shirt was in the way. I pushed him forward and tugged at the hem of his shirt. I didn’t remove it because I needed that barrier there. This was me making him feel good, not foreplay. “If you put aside your feelings about what you should or shouldn’t be doing, do you feel like the reminders help you?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“And was it hard for you to do as I asked?”
“No, which is another thing that’s weird,” Frankie admitted. “I…uh… well, let’s just say I’ve never been good at doing things when someone tells me to. Mama used to joke that she could get me to do anything by telling me to do the opposite.”
I kept massaging Frankie’s back as he talked about how my messages centered him. That made me feel good, because that’d been my intention. I wanted to push him a little further, but that would prove to be a test for both of us. I was still determined that we not rush to intercourse just for the sake of getting off. Frankie wasn’t at all what I would’ve gone out looking for in a partner, but I had a feeling we might be exactly what the other needed.
I stretched to reach the remote, nearly toppling both of us to the floor. After a quick debate, I decided to leave Ryan where he slept. Nothing would kill the mood quicker than worrying about whether he realized I followed Frankie into his room.
“Come on, let’s get you in bed.” I tugged Frankie’s arm until he got up and followed suit. He spun around, practically melting into my arms. When his hand drifted to my groin, I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “Not for that.”
“You’re no fun,” Frankie whined. “Seriously, I deserve some sort of reward for listening to your rules and suggestions for the week. I’m a man with needs, Calvin.”
I swatted Frankie’s bubble butt, laughing when he groaned. “And if you’re not a brat, you may get what you want. But unless you tell me otherwise, from this point forward, what happens and when will be up to me. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Frankie shook his head.
“Say it, Frankie. Tell me you need me to take control. That you trust me to make these decisions for you,” I instructed him as I led him down the hall to the bedrooms. Eventually, I would invite him into my bed, but I wasn’t ready for that step just yet. Once he was there, I wanted it to be for good.
Frankie turned back to me, placing both of his hands on my chest. “I trust you, Calvin. I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I know you won’t do anything I don’t want. Help me…”
He left the end of his plea unspoken, but I knew what it was that he needed. I silently vowed to give him a sanctuary in our home where he didn’t have to be the one in control of everything. A safe place for him to let go and feel.
As much as I wanted to strip the clothes from his body like it was a precious gift, there was something else I wanted more. Rather than lead him to the bed, I stopped in the center of the room, taking a step back to look at him. He was in a T-shirt and jeans tonight. It struck me how rarely I saw him in anything other than business casual wear with the exception of early mornings over coffee. One of the few times I remembered seeing him so dressed down was the night at Club 83; a night I would both be forever grateful for experiencing and wished I could erase from my memory.
“Get ready for bed. I’ll wait,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.
One eyebrow lifted in question when I didn’t move.
“You’re not going to join me?” Frankie seemed disappointed, but tried to quickly recover. “I mean, I guess that’s probably a bad idea.”
“I won’t sleep in here, but I’m not leaving just yet.” When Frankie didn’t take the hint, I reached for the hem of his shirt and gave it a gentle tug. His cheeks darkened when he realized what was expected of him. “If I had my way, you’d wear as little as possible whenever you’re home, but that’s not always feasible. Now, let me see you.”
Frankie’s hand shook as he pulled the shirt over his head. When he discarded the garment onto the floor between our feet, I looked down at it and back up at him, subtly shaking my head. He bent down, allowing me a moment to check out his ass yet again. It was a fine ass, one that deserved to be worshipped. And if he’d allow it someday, reddened, because my gut told me that would be what allowed him to soar to great heights. There would be no need to use implements, but someday, I would use my hand on his bare ass.
He fumbled with the button on his jeans, and I reached out to steady him. “It’s okay if you’re having second thoughts. I don’t want you doing this because you think it’s what I want.”
“I’m not,” he promised me, his voice wavering slightly. “I think I need this. It wasn’t something I ever thought I’d be interested in, but the more I read, the more I pictured us in various scenarios.”
That was encouraging news. “Care to share something you’re particularly eager to try?”
Frankie pushed the pants over his hips and allowed them to pool around his ankles. When he picked them up and tossed them into the laundry hamper, I nodded my approval. His hard prick was already leaking, leaving a damp spot at the front of his tight boxer briefs. I licked my lips and willed myself to stay in control no matter how much I wanted to drop to my knees before him. His face flushed with embarrassment under my appraisal, but to his credit, he made no move to cover up.
“I asked you a question, brat,” I reminded him. He simply shook his head in response. “There’s nothing you want to try?”
“I…”
His voice trailed off as he mumbled his answer.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” I took Frankie’s hand and led him to the edge of the bed. My senses were assaulted with temptation. Seeing his nearly bare chest up close, I realized he must wax it. I didn’t understand the habit, but I could definitely appreciate not wanting to hide the body he worked hard to maintain. It was a stark contrast to the trail of dark hair guiding my attention from his navel straight down to his erection. And damn, was that an impressive sight. The musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating.
“I want you to show me what you want,” he repeated with a bit more certainty this time. “You said you wanted to help me let go, so do it. Help me. Don’t make me think.”
Frankie’s surrender was something I would never make light of, but he’d just uttered the perfect plea for me to stop holding back.
8
Frankie
“You’ll have to be quiet,” Calvin reminded me. He pressed his hand over my mouth as he pushed me onto the mattress. Goddamn, that shouldn’t have been so hot, but my dick twitched against the cotton of my underwear, my balls aching for release. “I want you to lay down and keep your hands under your head on the pillow.”
That didn’t seem so bad. I was grateful Calvin hadn’t suggested restraining me. That was still something I wasn’t sure I could do. I needed to be able to push him away if the situation got too intense, wanted to be able to reach out for him as I came. Except, he’d told me to keep my hands between my head and the pillow, and I didn’t want to know what he’d do if I failed.
I did as Calvin instructed and held my breath while he joined me on the bed, disappointed that I wasn’t going to see his tattoos on display again. I bit back a moan as his fingers trailed too lightly down the center of my chest. Arched my back off the bed, willing him to go lower. He pushed firmly on my hip.