by DJ Jamison
Until then, Rory gave up on work and tackled the need to address their surprise engagement on social media. With the news going viral, it was already reaching his friends. Holly had shared Mal’s article with a short message: “Congrats Rory and Avery, my new favorite couple!”
The news was most likely being shared on less friendly pages, too, with less complimentary opinions. He’d seen a handful of comments on one of the news sites, and it’d been enough to make his blood boil.
Avery Kinkaid should be ashamed for lying to the world for so long.
This senator’s kid sounds like an entitled brat. Why should we care if he’s gay? He should keep it to himself.
They didn’t seem to care that their comments were contradictory in nature. Avery had lied and kept secrets, and he also should have never shared those secrets. Any argument to place blame on the poor gay guy, Rory thought bitterly. There were comments attacking the senator as well, and it had quickly devolved into a melting pot of ugliness. Rory had learned a long time ago that no intelligent discourse could be found in online comments, so he had scrolled on, ignoring the rest.
But he couldn’t ignore social media entirely, no matter how much he might like to do it. Avery was staying away from the fray, and that left it to Rory to be the voice of their relationship. It would seem suspicious to remain silent about something that was supposed to be happy news.
He spent far too long crafting a message that would be both convincing and heartfelt. Then he shared Mal’s blog with it, tagging Avery, so his friends would see it as well.
Surprise! I’m engaged. I know this seems to come out of nowhere, but it’s been years in the making. Avery and I met in boarding school. We couldn’t be open about our relationship. Over the years, we’ve struggled with Avery’s need to hide who he is, but he’s done hiding. When I was younger, I didn’t understand why Avery wouldn’t just come out already. I was out, so why not him? But I have supportive family. I haven’t felt even an ounce of the pressure Avery feels. So I know how truly difficult this was for him. I’m really proud of him for standing up for himself, and for being an example for others in a difficult position. I look forward to the day that a son isn’t told to keep quiet about his sexuality and his engagement to another man isn’t news, even if he is a senator’s son. Until then, thank you for your support. You’ll be seeing a lot more Avery on my social media feeds from now on!
Rory sagged in his seat after he posted variations of his message to all his accounts, heart racing. He hoped he’d struck the right note between explaining why no one had heard about their relationship and injecting some heartfelt emotion. Nearly every word in the post was true—aside from them really being engaged.
Once that was done, he got tied up responding to comments on his posts, mostly all good since he surrounded himself with friends and allies. He had no fear of ugly comments on his own posts, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen on other pages. He just hoped Avery could avoid the worst of it.
That left just one more challenge to deal with: what to tell his mother. With trepidation, he picked up the phone.
Thankfully, she wasn’t much for social media, always saying she enjoyed her gossip in person, where she could see the truth in a person’s eyes, but he’d have to tell her something, just in case the news managed to spread to Vermont.
Rory wasn’t sure he could lie to his mom, but he also wasn’t sure he could trust her to keep such a massive secret—she was a hairdresser and gossiping ran in her veins—so right up until she answered the phone, he had no idea what he was going to say.
“Rory!” she exclaimed, delighted. “It’s been too long since you called.”
And then he knew. He would tell her everything. Because she was his mom. Because he could trust her with this, his most important secret. And because he needed to talk to a parent who cared. He needed to feel her love and support after listening to the disgust of Senator Kinkaid, seeing those nasty comments.
And he made up his mind right then: Avery deserved a good mom too. His had enough love for both of them.
When Avery pulled up to Rory’s little house, light was spilling from the windows, a warm glow that seeped into Avery, chasing away the dark shadows. Rory was home. Rory was waiting. Rory was his.
For now. But what about when—
Avery cut off the thought. He refused to open himself to more uncertainty right now. Rory was inside that house waiting for him, and Avery refused to question it. He snagged the bag of fragrant Thai food off the seat beside him and headed up the walk.
After the call with Rory that afternoon, Avery had pulled himself together. Seeing his story splashed over all the regional sites had rattled him, and getting a series of phone calls from half a dozen news outlets to confirm the story hadn’t done much to ease his nerves. But ultimately, the attention was good. Better than being ignored, even if Avery had trained himself to blend in rather than stand out. The more the news spread, the more pressure his father would feel.
Gil had sent him the copy of the statement released by his father’s office that afternoon. Short and sweet, it said: “State Senator Drake Kinkaid has nothing but love for his son, Avery, and he does not believe any LGBTQ individual should be asked to live in fear or secrecy. The senator needs time to process the news reports circulating and speak with his son personally before responding further.”
Despite that message, Avery’s father hadn’t reached out to him.
Between the bouts of nausea and daydreaming of all the ways his father might respond—both good and bad—Avery had managed to get little work done, but he did get the ball rolling on the gala fundraiser he’d promised Rory. Belinda Carter, president of the Kinkaid Foundation, had been a little concerned about the tight timeline, but she recognized that the Equal Justice League was not only a worthy cause, but would greatly improve the foundation’s reputation. Like a lot of charity foundations, they’d been accused of throwing their money and influence behind vanity projects—saving cute animals while real humans suffered—and this would be a good shift in philosophy for them.
Avery’s mother had started the foundation shortly before she died, endowing it with her sizeable family inheritance. Avery’s father couldn’t touch that money, which meant he had absolutely no interest in the foundation’s actions—nor any say in what it did. That was up to the board of directors. Avery did have a seat on the board because, unlike his father, he’d wanted to be a part of his mother’s passion project.
Belinda agreed to put the proposal before the board, and if they agreed, to sponsor the gala for Rory’s agency. But that was just a formality. If Belinda was in favor, the board would follow her lead.
Avery let himself into the house, and the first thing he heard was Rory’s laugh. It was warm, melodious, and it curled around his heart. Rory stood in the center of the living room, talking on his cell phone. Avery set down the Thai take-out on a table beside the door, dropped his keys beside it, and strode up to Rory, not stopping until he had Rory’s face in his hands.
He kissed him, needing the connection, the comfort. Rory grounded him, made him feel more settled in his skin. His blood heated with the memory of Rory’s body against his, rubbing, touching his most intimate places. That morning, he’d felt so…alive. As if a part of him had been dead, or maybe just comatose, waiting to be wakened by the right touch.
Rory melted into his kiss, parting his lips and meeting Avery’s tongue. Avery’s heart fluttered. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have this. No matter what else happened, Rory was in his arms again. He’d never believed this day would come.
He pulled back, watching Rory’s eyelids flutter open. Their gazes connected, intense and full of unspoken emotion. Then Rory gasped and looked at the phone in his hand in horror. “My mother,” he said.
He brought the phone closer to his ear and even Avery could hear the laughter from the other end of the call.
“Sorry, Mom.” Rory laughed, a pink tinge in his chee
ks. “Uh, yes, Avery’s here now. I don’t know if—Yeah, but—” Rory tried to speak twice, then gave up and rolled his eyes, holding out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”
Avery’s eyes rounded, but Rory smiled. “Go on. She doesn’t bite.”
Hesitantly, Avery brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Avery, sweetie, Rory was just telling me a bit of what you’re going through.”
He was? Avery’s gaze locked on Rory’s, transmitting his confusion and concern. Rory just nodded.
“Oh,” Avery said. “Well, that’s…”
“It’s not right, honey. I’ve just read the news article. Rory sent it to me, and I had to call as soon as I finished reading to tell you that if you need someone—someone besides Rory—I’m here for you. You’ll always have someone in your corner, okay?”
Avery was speechless. He looked to Rory, but he was no help. He simply smiled and shrugged, as if to say, What can you do about a mom full of love?
“Okay,” Avery said after a beat.
“I can tell by your tone you don’t fully believe me, and that’s understandable,” she said. “But Avery, I love my son fiercely, you understand? I would never ask him to hide the heart of himself. That’s a parent’s job. To love unconditionally. And if yours can’t or won’t do that for you, then I will. I know it’s not the same, but I’ll be here. You can call me, you can visit me, you can spend holidays with me. In fact, I’ll expect you for Christmas.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Avery blurted.
“I know you kiss my Rory like he’s everything to you.” Avery’s face flushed, and before he could attempt an awkward apology, she added, “But even if that doesn’t last forever, which would be a shame because I can tell Rory’s quite smitten with you, I’m here to tell you that you’re a good man, you’re deserving of love, and there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But I…you don’t know everything about me.”
“I don’t need to know,” she said simply. “As long as you’re not hurting another human being, as long as you’re true to yourself, there is nothing at all wrong with you, you hear? You love who you want to love. You be who you need to be.”
Avery’s eyes began to burn, and for some reason he felt the need to explain. “My mother died.”
She made a tsking sound. “Rory told me. That must have been so hard for you.”
“I think she would have loved me, like you love Rory.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“But I never told her, and then she was gone.” His voice broke on the last word, and Rory’s arms came around him. Held in Rory’s embrace, with Rory’s mother speaking softly in his ear, Avery felt a mother’s comfort for the first time in more than ten years.
15
Rory woke to Avery’s ass against him, rubbing the length of his hard cock, clearly yearning for a repeat of the morning before. A beautiful, perfect morning before the release of their interview with Mal.
Avery had been listless over dinner the night before, drained by an emotional day. In retrospect, Rory’s mom might have been too much on top of a difficult day. He’d thought she’d comfort Avery—and maybe she had in a way—but he’d barely been functional afterward.
Rory had eaten while Avery picked at his food, then he’d run a bath and urged Avery into it. By the time they went to bed, Avery was half asleep before his head hit the pillow.
He was awake now. And so was Rory’s body, lust sizzling as Avery shifted against him. As he watched, Avery reached back, grasping one ass cheek and pulling, spreading himself open. Rory looked down at the tight pink hole and felt his cock throb with want.
“Baby...”
His voice was rough from sleep, or maybe hoarse with lust. Avery gave a little gasp of surprise and released his grip, his hole disappearing from view.
“Don’t hide,” Rory said. “Please. Spread yourself. Let me see.”
There was a long, tense moment when Avery didn’t move. Rory wondered if he was pushing too hard. Then, Avery slowly reached back and spread his cheeks.
“Yes. So pretty.”
Avery’s breath hitched. “I feel weird.”
Rory ran a fingertip over the furled flesh, gently teasing, and watched the shiver work its way through Avery’s body. Rory wouldn’t shove him past his boundaries, but perhaps a little nudge?
He scooted down in the bed, placing his hand beside Avery’s. “You can let go now,” he whispered.
He meant it literally and figuratively. Avery gasped, feeling Rory’s breath drift across his most intimate place. Rory didn’t dive in, knowing how conflicted Avery was about his cravings. He waited patiently until Avery moved his own hand away and said in a shaky voice, “Okay.”
Rory brushed the tip of his tongue between Avery’s cheeks. Then slowly he licked over and around his hole, taking it slow, but getting Avery wet, waking up his pleasure centers with light touches.
Avery’s breathing sped up. “Rory,” he said in an almost desperate voice.
Rory pulled back. “Yes?”
“Please.”
“What do you want?”
Wasn’t that the dilemma for them both? Avery wanted but didn’t want to want, and Rory wanted but feared he wanted too much. Feared he wanted more than Avery would ever be able to give.
“Your tongue,” Avery finally said, voice strangled. “Inside me.”
“Just my tongue?”
Avery hesitated, and Rory waited patiently but stroked his thumb back and forth over Avery’s rim, giving him just enough sensation to want more.
“Fingers too,” Avery gasped as if the words had been forced from the depths of him. They probably had been. His want ran deep, and Avery tried so hard to contain it. Rory wanted to unlock all Avery’s doors, throw them wide, let all his need come spilling out.
He wasn’t disappointed that Avery hadn’t begged for his cock. That day would come. For now, he buried his tongue in Avery’s ass and focused every ounce of concentration on giving him pleasure. He flicked, licked, and sucked at the edges of Avery’s hole until he was begging, and then he firmed his tongue and speared it inside, using fingers to hold Avery open.
Avery cried out, shoving back against his face, and Rory held his breath, not wanting to interrupt Avery’s pleasure even to take in air. Eventually he had to breathe, so he replaced his tongue with a finger, sliding it inside. Then another.
Slowly, so slowly he stretched Avery, filled him, pushed against his prostate. The sounds Avery made were beautiful yet heartbreaking, the sound of pleasure and pain intermingling, wounded and rejoiceful at the same time.
Avery had grabbed his cock, stroking, but Rory didn’t stop him. He could feel his desperation.
“Stroke yourself harder,” he ordered. “I want you to come on my tongue.”
Without waiting for a response, Rory lowered his face, returning his tongue to Avery’s quivering flesh. Seconds later, Avery tightened and released with a shout, his asshole fluttering as waves of ecstasy rushed through him.
Rory reached down, squeezing his own cock, and rocketed into orgasm, his tongue still tasting Avery’s pleasure.
“Oh Jesus,” Avery groaned.
Rory smiled to himself. “Good, huh?”
“I may never walk again.”
“Just wait.” Rory bit down on the urge to finish that statement. Just wait until it’s my cock spreading you wide, fucking you deep. It was too soon. He didn’t want to cause Avery to backslide when he was eking closer to his desires. “We can snooze a bit before we shower,” he said, leaning over to scoop a shirt from the floor and wipe up.
When he handed it to Avery, he kissed Rory’s cheek almost shyly. “Thank you.”
Rory knew he was thanking him for far more than a bit of cloth to clean up with. Rory remembered the heady feel of Avery breaking apart on his tongue.
“My pleasure.”
For the next few days, Avery felt as if he were living in a strange alternate reali
ty.
One part of his life felt frozen, waiting for a response from his father. The news of their engagement still circulated on social media, and his father’s office had said a statement would be forthcoming, so it was only a matter of time. But while he waited, tensely, for his father to disappoint him again, the other part of his life—his relationship with Rory—sped ahead of him like a train.
In the evenings they shared dinner, talked about their day, kissed. Explored one another’s bodies as if they had all the time in the world. The honeymoon period, wasn’t it called? It felt like a reprieve from the world, just them in their bubble of new love. Avery couldn’t think of it as anything else. Loving Rory felt as natural as breathing.
And expressing that love by learning every inch of Rory’s long, lanky body was his new favorite pastime. He discovered that Rory turned to goo when Avery fondled his balls, and he arched and hissed like a cat when Avery nibbled the flesh over his ribs. Avery loved unlocking all the tiny secrets to Rory’s pleasure, loved stroking his lean muscle, kissing his warm skin, tasting the salt of him.
But the mornings? They were different. They were for Avery, for the desires he couldn’t voice. Rory rimmed him, fingered him, used a plug one day while blowing him. And Avery wasn’t in so much denial that he didn’t know where it was all leading. He wanted it. He’d always wanted it, even if he couldn’t say it out loud. And he knew it would happen soon. It was like a fall you see coming; the ground was rushing toward him and all he could do was brace for impact. He would bend over for another man, just as his father had always feared. But somehow the idea of that wrecked him a little less.
His father didn’t belong here, between them in bed. He didn’t belong in Avery’s head at all, in his most intimate desires, but he couldn’t exorcise his words from his brain, couldn’t shake the memories of a little boy confused and unsettled by the disgust in his father’s voice. But that didn’t mean he had to listen.
Finally, just when Avery began to think his father would let the article slide into obscurity without a response—perhaps hoping the news would die down and be forgotten—Avery saw the headline.