by DJ Jamison
As disappointment gave way to rage, Avery texted Gil just to make sure.
Is Dad working to kill that piece of legislation we talked about? He told me he would.
Gill responded a minute later. Kill it? No. It’s going to the floor in two weeks.
“Goddamn it,” Avery snarled, hurling his phone at the wall. It hit just above the dresser mirror and crashed to the floor.
“Avery?” Rory called from the other room, sounding concerned.
“I’m fine,” he said angrily. “Fucking peachy!”
He stomped across the room to retrieve the phone, halting in front of the mirror. He didn’t recognize his reflection. His eyes were bright with rage, his lips deep red. He wasn’t the defeated, weak man that he always saw in his mind’s eye after failing to outwit his father. He wasn’t even the guy afraid to be himself. Here he stood, vibrating with anger in a thin, gauzy robe and lacy underwear.
“Avery?” Rory said tentatively from the doorway. “You okay?”
Avery continued to look in the mirror, remembering the way Rory had tenderly showed him how he looked through his eyes. The beauty and strength he saw in Avery had been a revelation. Avery was done playing his dad’s games, done feeling crushed by his callous dismissal of an important part of Avery’s identity.
Staring into the mirror, he saw Rory approach from behind. He locked eyes with him.
“You were right,” he said. “I want to call Mal and give him the go ahead.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Avery shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Don’t apologize. Just do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Fuck me in front of this mirror.”
Rory looked taken aback. Avery wasn’t sure he’d ever thrown Rory so off-balance before. He liked the feeling. Rory was always so in control, so calm in comparison to Avery’s internal storms. It was nice to see Rory not one hundred percent sure of himself for once.
“Right now?”
“Yeah. We never did finish what you started in Vermont. I want to watch you take my ass in front of a mirror. I want to see my face, my body, my reactions as you do it. And I want to do it in these clothes. Because it’s not wrong. It’s me.”
He was trembling as he choked out the final words, and Rory rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Avery from behind. He squeezed him tight, nothing sexual about the embrace. “I love you,” he whispered in Avery’s ear. “You’re beautiful as you are, and I love you.”
Avery’s rage threated to give way to tears, but he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to fall apart. “Fuck me,” he insisted. “Hard. I need it to be really, really hard. And then…then you can call Mal and give him the news.”
Rory would have given Avery anything he asked just then, he was powerless to resist his request. He worried only briefly whether it was healthy to fuck out his rage, but it seemed the lesser of several evils when he considered that Avery could be drinking himself into a stupor or punching the mirror instead of staring into it.
If Avery needed this defiance, to really see himself as the man he needed to be, the man his father didn’t support, then Rory was happy to give it to him. He stepped back to strip off his clothes. The whole time, Avery held his gaze in the mirror, fairly vibrating in his own skin. He looked ready to tear someone apart. Maybe he wanted a hard fuck to tamp down the urge to commit murder. Rory couldn’t blame him if that were the case.
Rory grabbed the lube, and since Avery had alluded to finishing what they started in Vermont, he dropped to his knees behind Avery, pulling aside the fabric of his briefs and pressing a finger against the crinkly skin of his entrance.
“Don’t want prep,” Avery said.
Rory wasn’t prepared to tear up his ass, even if he wanted some pain. But he could give him a taste of what he was seeking. He pushed two fingers roughly into his hole, and Avery grunted, grabbing at the edge of the dresser. “Fuck. More.”
Rory withdrew, adding a third finger, and pumped them hard a few times, doing his best to prep Avery.
“Your cock, now,” Avery demanded. “Hurry.”
Rory felt the anticipation rising to a boil. He stood, trembling a little in his eagerness, and reached for a condom.
“No,” Avery said. “We’ve been together long enough. Since November. And I wasn’t with anyone for a while before that. I’ve been tested. Please…take me bare. Want to feel you, only you, inside me.”
Rory hesitated. All his safe-sex alarms were blaring, even though he’d also been tested before he hooked up with Avery. Enough time had passed, and they were exclusive. But…was now the moment to make this decision? Avery’s judgment was questionable.
“Another time,” he said firmly, rolling on the condom. “I’d love to another time, when we’re not rushing. Okay?”
Avery huffed out a little breath. “Okay.”
Rory slathered himself in lube, pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, then asked, “Ready?”
Avery looked into the mirror, looking like lust itself with his flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and gauzy robe falling off one shoulder. “Give it to me.”
Rory didn’t hesitate. He knew what Avery wanted, and this thing, he would give him. He lined up, met Avery’s eyes in the mirror, and rammed himself in to the hilt. Avery cried out, eyes snapping shut, as Rory stretched and filled him.
“Okay?” Rory checked.
“Keep going,” Avery said, his voice sounding strained. “I need it.”
He hesitated. “Just tell me this isn’t some kind of punishment for yourself.”
It had only just now occurred to him that Avery might be using this as a way to harm himself rather than empower. That was a terrifying thought. Rory didn’t want any part of that.
“Fuck, no,” Avery said, sounding urgent. “I want this, want you, want…” He gestured to the mirror, perhaps indicating his look and clothes. “Please, Rory.”
There was a heartfelt plea in his words. Rory felt a sense of rightness settle in him. If Avery needed this, he would give it to him. He grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and kissed him hard. Then he released his grip and began fucking him. As hard as he could manage in this position. Holding Avery’s hips, he thrust with every ounce of strength he had, watching Avery struggle to keep his eyes open, watching the slack expression on his face as he melted under the onslaught, watching as he reared back into each and every thrust, taking as much as being taken.
He was a beautiful, wild creature in that moment.
Rory’s hands slid over gauzy fabric, one on Avery’s hip, one on his shoulder. Avery, looking frantic, used one hand to shove his underwear down enough to get his cock free. Rory had yanked it to the side to allow him entrance, and it scraped the side of his cock with every thrust in and out, but he barely felt it next to all the other sensations rocketing through him. The tight, clenching heat of Avery’s body overtook everything else.
“Fuck,” Avery cried as his fist closed around his cock, and his entire body tightened.
Rory’s muscles were threatening to give out, his heart racing, but he was determined to make it to the finish line with Avery. “Look at yourself. Watch yourself come. Watch me come inside you.”
Rory jerked him back from the dresser, crossing an arm across Avery’s chest to hold him up, as he continued to grind his cock into him. He wanted Avery to have the full view, his body stretched out, held by another man, the gauzy robe sticking to his muscles with sweat. Color flooded his cheeks and crawled down his neck and chest, and his stomach quivered, his entire body rocking a bit with each move Rory made. His cock, beautifully shaped and a rich wine color, thrust out of his pretty briefs, looking almost angry in contrast.
“That is one beautiful man,” Rory said in his ear. “Look at that cock. It needs some relief.”
Avery groaned, reaching down to resume his stroking. He came in seconds, cum jetting out onto the carpet. Fuck it. Rory didn’t care about the mess on the floor. The mess in his arms was far too mes
merizing.
Avery fell apart, every last shred of reserve gone. He’d pushed past his boundaries one by one these past couple of months, and today, he’d annihilated them. Rory came, flooding the condom, as a magnificent man shuddered in his arms.
He slowly came down from the orgasm high to find Avery watching his reflection in the mirror. “What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
Avery moistened his lips, considering. “Just me,” he said. “Without any pretense or lies.” He shrugged. “I just needed to see me.”
Rory slid both arms around him, holding him close to his heart. “I see you too.”
They stood, embracing in front of the mirror, and Rory’s heart felt so full it could burst. He was so fucking proud of Avery, of everything he’d overcome. His father’s lies could have been a massive setback. They might have ruined all the distance Avery had traveled toward accepting himself. Instead, he’d taken control, empowering himself, finally seeing what Rory saw every time he looked at him.
A man worth loving.
21
It took more than a week for Mal’s article to catch the eye of other publications. Nine days before the shit hit the fan. The news about the legislation took off, and Rory was over the moon. They’d had drinks with Mal and Holly to celebrate.
Avery had smiled along with everyone, but his heart wasn’t totally in it. He knew this wouldn’t be the end. Drake Kinkaid didn’t go quietly into the night. He didn’t go with a whimper, but with a bang. Rory tried to distract Avery with great sex—which was mostly successful because sex with Rory was phenomenal, but Avery couldn’t fully relax.
He spent those days awaiting his father’s reaction because he knew there would be one. He just hadn’t anticipated how far he would go. And he should have. He really should have been prepared, but once again, he’d given his father too little—or perhaps too much?—credit.
When he entered his office at the bank to find his father sitting behind his desk, he assumed that was the end of his job. This, he’d been braced for, so he squared his shoulders and looked his dad in the eye.
“I assume you’re here to fire me,” Avery said.
“You know that they say about assuming,” his father said. “No. Your job is safe. Not so sure I can say the same about your fiancé.”
Avery’s heart faltered. “What have you done?”
“Nothing.” He paused a beat, raising his eyebrows. “Yet.”
Avery crossed the room, slapping his briefcase onto his desk. “If you’re just here to make idle threats, you can leave my office. One of us actually works here.”
His father’s lips curled. It was more sneer than smile. “I can’t say I love what that man’s done to your sense of respect. I damn well don’t answer to you.”
Avery met his gaze. “And I don’t answer to you. Not anymore.”
“You answer to him, huh? He got you by the balls, son? You dick-whipped?”
“I answer to myself,” Avery gritted out between his teeth.
“Good, then you can make this decision all by yourself. I’ve got in my possession evidence that you and this man faked this engagement for media coverage. It’s a big hoax to draw attention to legislation you didn’t like. With one push of a button, this can go directly to Rory Fisher’s employer.”
Avery felt the blood draining from his face. That job meant everything to Rory.
“There’s no evidence. You’re bluffing.”
To his horror, his father didn’t bluster and insist he had the goods to back his words up. Instead, he simply set down his phone faceup and turned it for Avery to see the screen. There, in front of him, was a screenshot of a text exchange with Gil.
Gil: Those photos look legit.
Avery: They are legit. We’re engaged.
Gil: Right, I know. I just meant they’re very romantic. And, uh, you should know… your dad has seen the news. He stormed out of here after yelling at us for letting him get sideswiped by it.
Avery released a breath. “This doesn’t prove anything. As I said, the photos are legit. We are engaged, even if it’s an inconvenient truth for you.”
His father chuckled. “Wait, there’s more.”
Using one finger, he swiped the phone screen, showing the next screenshot of a text exchange that had come much earlier.
Gil: I’ve been thinking, and I’m really not sure you should go through with this engagement sham. Your dad is going to be furious, and there will be fallout.
Avery: I have to do something.
Gil: This legislation isn’t your responsibility. I could just tip off the media anonymously.
Avery: And have it buried on page 3 of some state news page? That’s not good enough. There’s too much at stake. And there are other factors at work. Now, please, delete this and don’t text me again about this shit.
Fuck. Avery glanced up at his gloating father. “He didn’t delete it,” he said numbly.
“Oh, he did,” Drake said cheerfully. “It just so happens that it was still in the cloud. Once I had possession of his phone and passwords, it was a piece of cake for my tech guys to handle.”
Avery felt sick, suddenly, and sank into one of the two chairs in front of the desk. His father remained in the executive office chair behind the desk, the big man in the office as always. He might not fire Avery, but he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin Rory’s career.
“How did you get his phone?” Avery asked. “Did he…”
He couldn’t bring himself to voice the question. He’d trusted Gil. They’d been close since they’d met in college. The thought of him betraying Avery… He just wouldn’t. Not unless he was threatened too.
“Does it really matter?” his father said. “The truth is here in my hand. Rory Fisher entered an engagement with you to make me look bad and halt this legislation. I give this to his employer and he’s toast. I bring it to his little gala, and the whole organization is toast.”
Avery’s eyes flew wide. “What— How—”
“You think I don’t keep tabs on what the Kinkaid Foundation does? I might not run it, but it has my goddamned name on it. I could pull the plug on this gala, or even better, I could reveal Rory’s deceit in front of all those donors. How generous would they feel then? Rory’s reputation would be ruined. He’d never work again in this town, not in the nonprofit sector.”
Avery knew when he was defeated. He just didn’t know what his father wanted.
“You can’t do that,” he said. “Please. Rory loves that job, and he helps so many people.”
“He’s really turned you into a bleeding heart, hasn’t he?”
Avery clenched his jaw, biting back the angry retort. “What do you want? What do I have to do to make this go away?” He waved his hand toward the text messages with Gil. How stupid he’d been not to personally make sure that Gil had taken steps to erase them. How stupid he’d been to engage with those texts to begin with. If he hadn’t responded to Gil, effectively confirming the truth of those statements, his father might not have any solid proof.
Drake Kinkaid tsked. “Don’t look so devastated, son. You’ve gotten what you wanted. The legislation is dead in the water. Those news reports painted it in the negative light you wanted. Had you only waited a little longer, I would have convinced them myself. You made my job easier.”
Avery was skeptical. “You expect me to believe you were really trying at all? I’m done with the bullshit.”
His father shrugged. “Believe what you want, Avery. Bottom line. No bullshit. If you don’t want to devastate Rory’s career and sabotage the fundraising gala, then you will return to my side, the dutiful son. You’ll be present when I announce my run for governor, and you’ll be ready to give an interview—to a reporter of my choice—about the sad end of your engagement, your misguided and impatient aim to draw attention to harmful legislation, because you feared I couldn’t shut it down on my own, and your misunderstanding about my support for you as a gay man, which is, of course, bottomless. You’
ll be the son I need you to be, and you’ll help me present a united family to the press for my gubernatorial run.”
The words crashed over Avery, waves in a riotous ocean of regret. What could he do? He saw no way out of this trap his father had created. If he resisted, he devastated Rory’s career. Something Rory loved dearly. If he gave in, he ruined the love he and Rory had built together, he destroyed their trust.
Most of all, he tainted himself.
But was there any choice? Avery would sacrifice himself one hundred times over to spare Rory the pain of his father’s revenge.
“How soon?” he asked.
“Tomorrow. Don’t think I’m dumb enough to let you drag this out.”
No, his father wouldn’t make Avery’s mistakes. He wouldn’t give Avery the time to come up with a solution. And really, what solution was there? Avery had played all his cards, every last one. His father’s political reputation had taken some hits, but he was still standing—and he had all the leverage this time.
Rory met Caleb and Julien at his favorite tapas bar in Portland, hugging each of them when he reached the tall pub table draped in a wine-red cloth. A pitcher of water sat in the center of the table, with an empty glass in front of each place setting.
“What are you guys doing on the mainland today?” Rory asked as he took the seat across from Caleb. “You’re usually too attached to your island to ever leave.”
Julien grinned, wiggling in his high-backed pub chair. “We were meeting with a lawyer.”
“Wow. Most people aren’t so giddy about that,” Rory said. “It’s not something bad, I take it.”
Caleb and Julien linked hands on the table. “We’ve decided to move forward with adoption. Today, we met with an attorney who will help us through the legal process.”