by Anna Martin
There was a door to the right, which I guessed at first was a closet but turned out to be his bathroom. The apartment was long and narrow, with a kitchen under the window at the front, looking out onto the street. There was a futon stashed in the corner and just one dresser that was overflowing with clothes.
“I wasn’t really expecting company,” Zane said apologetically. “I probably should have tidied up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile. “I’ve got a kid. My place is usually the same, or worse.”
There were two barstools at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, and I slid onto one as Zane started unpacking the groceries, putting his own things in the fridge and leaving out what he’d need for making dinner.
“I’ve got a few beers that are already cold,” he said.
I was trying not to stare at his ass as it wiggled back and forth while he dug the bottles out.
“We can swap for these later.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, and then I cleared my throat.
“So, tell me about him,” Zane asked as he pulled a heavy wooden cutting board from where it hung on the wall, along with an impressive knife.
“Who, Ollie?”
“No, Harrison. You can tell me about your ex-husband as well, if you like….”
I laughed, relieved. “Oh. Harrison’s awesome.”
“How old is he?”
“Nearly eight months now,” I said. “He changes so quickly, it’s crazy. At the moment it’s like he learns something new every day. He’s in the process of trying to pull himself up.”
We settled into an easy conversation as Zane cooked, and I watched as he threw ingredients together with a skill I certainly didn’t possess. Within minutes there was a wok heating on his two-ring stove, the window open to let the smoke out, and a pan of water ready to heat the glass noodles. Oil, vegetables, Thai curry paste, coconut milk, and bam, he’d made a fucking curry. From scratch. With what looked like homemade curry paste.
“It looks awesome,” I said as he served it up into two bowls and pulled a stool around to sit on the other side of the breakfast bar.
“Thanks.”
I clinked the neck of my beer bottle against his and grinned.
It tasted awesome too—I didn’t have to lie even a little bit. Which was good, because I was a terrible actor. Things didn’t feel forced with Zane. I could just be, and he let me.
Too young, a treacherous voice whispered from inside my head. I decided to ignore it.
After we’d finished eating, I insisted on helping him with the dishes, which took longer than they should since we kept stopping to make out, constantly flipping sides so his back or mine was pressed against the sink. The back of my T-shirt got wet, and I didn’t care at all.
“Do you need to rush off?” he asked as I kissed up the side of his neck. I’d trapped him between my arms and was also occupied with scooping the last few bits of kitchenware out of the sink to set it on the rack.
“No.”
“Good.”
There was a TV hung on the wall opposite his bed—no space for it anywhere else—and Zane grabbed two oversize cushions from the floor and tossed them on the bed for us to lean against. I guessed he’d made them himself. The fabric was a bright, unique color that blended with the different fabrics and colors he’d used to decorate the apartment.
He tugged me over to the bed and used the remote to turn the TV on to some movie that was playing—I hadn’t seen it before and didn’t want to watch it. Not when I had Zane next to me to keep me company.
Instead of diving straight into making out, which I was all in favor of, we talked. I wanted to know more about his art, and he took my hands in his to draw pictures in the air, explaining how artists weren’t made, they were born, and he just had to figure out what his medium was. He still didn’t tell me about any of his own work, and that was okay. I’d learn about it in time.
Talking about art made him look and sound like a kid in a candy store, like there were too many different things to try, so many different flavors to experience, and he wanted it all at once, rather than working out what was his favorite and sticking with it. He told me about sculpture and painting and charcoals and how he never got bored of the smell of acrylic or the feel of clay under his fingers.
When I kissed him it was because I couldn’t stand to look at his face for a moment longer, not when he was so animated and alight and alive, and I wanted to suck some of that into me, because I hadn’t felt that way in what seemed like forever. He was soft and warm and pliant beneath me, welcoming my touch instead of fighting against it.
Zane skimmed his hands from my shoulders to my waist, then back up to lightly grip at my arms. Any thoughts of being in control slipped away at his gentle touch. He was leading this, not me.
My T-shirt was tugged up and off and away by sure hands, and then I was half-naked and he was taking advantage of it as his hands made the same path again, over my skin instead of loose cotton. Not wanting to be the only one shirtless, I encouraged him up, then stripped off his shirt.
His skin was butter smooth and the most gorgeous cinnamon cookie color that made me just want to lick it. I felt justified in attaching my lips to his collarbone, leaving long, wet swipes of my tongue down to his nipple, then back up to his earlobe.
“Beautiful,” I mumbled.
He laughed beneath me.
I pushed back up onto my hands so I could get lost in the depths of his rich brown eyes again. He cupped my face in the palm of his hand and drew me down into another kiss. My nose bumped against the tiny silver hoop in his nose, and that shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was.
“I’m not usually this easy,” he said softly. “You’re making me wild.”
“I’m following your lead.”
“I want you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m trying to think of reasons not to do this.”
“Stop,” I said, punctuating the word with a kiss. “Stop thinking.”
“Then be with me, for fuck’s sake.”
We stripped off until we were bare, letting hands follow eyes to learn what each other felt like, as much as what we looked like. His legs were thick with muscle and his tummy soft, a combination I found I adored. His nipples were tight and sensitive and his cock achingly hard when I took it into my mouth.
“Ellis, please,” he groaned, and I swallowed around him.
There was lube and condoms under the bed, and Zane fished both out and laid them on the sheets next to us. It was dark outside now, the only light coming from streetlights and the flickering television.
When I pushed slick fingers inside him, Zane groaned again and gripped my shoulders and cried out against my lips, and I forced all thoughts of loving him out of my mind.
“Here,” Zane said, shoving something at me, and I forced my eyes to focus on the small box, not his kiss-swollen lips.
“Shit,” I muttered as I fumbled with the box of condoms.
“Hurry up.”
“Zane,” I murmured, leaning forward to capture his lips again as I tugged the condom down over my cock.
“Do it.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a command. Either way I obeyed and carefully guided my cock into him.
Zane tensed, then moaned long and slow as I paused to give him time to adjust. I balanced my weight on my arms either side of his head, giving him space if he needed it and ample opportunity to kiss me if that was what he wanted.
When I started to rock my hips, he told me, “Gently, gently,” and I complied, wondering when was the last time anyone was inside him, then forcing that thought from my head. I didn’t want to think anyone else had been with him, not when he fit with me so perfectly.
It was messy and raw, and not everything was perfect. He wasn’t hard at first; then he was, as soon as I started to move. I couldn’t find the right angle to tap against his prostate
; then I could. He kept begging me to go slow until he cried out for more. I drew his orgasm out first and let the tremors of his body trigger my own and kissed him over and over until we had to pull apart because we couldn’t stay joined any longer.
I pulled his head onto my chest and held him there while we caught our breath. Then he laughed.
“My God. That was incredible.”
I kissed his hair. “Yeah. For me too.”
He fell asleep before me, so I climbed carefully over him to get out of bed and cleaned up in his tiny bathroom.
I considered leaving but didn’t want to, so I crawled back into the bed behind him and gathered him up in my arms. He kissed my wrist, I kissed his shoulder, and then I wondered what would happen to us as I fell asleep.
Chapter 4
The next morning I was woken by his mouth on my cock, returning the blow job that I’d given him last night, with the sort of enthusiasm that made it fantastic for us both. Before I could come in his mouth, which was more than a little appealing, I urged him back onto his side and took him from behind.
It was lazy and slow, and I rocked into him for what seemed like forever before he grabbed hold of my thigh with one hand, my wrist with the other, holding me in place as he came. I hadn’t even touched his dick, and I whimpered into his neck as my orgasm trembled through me.
We ate cantaloupe for breakfast, cutting pieces of it straight from the skin with a sharp knife and feeding ourselves with slippery fingers. I wouldn’t let him put clothes on, and he traced the outline of my stomach muscles with a wondering expression, asking me how I got them. (Sit-ups. Lots of them.)
When my phone rang, I seriously considered not answering it. Only Zane’s insistent prodding made me groan and roll over and dig it out of the pocket of my jeans.
I groaned again before answering. “Leo.”
“Hey,” my brother said. “Did I wake you?”
“Not quite,” I mumbled.
“Oh. Well, Oliver just dropped Harrison back.”
“What?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after eleven.
“Yeah,” Leo said. “It was lucky I’m here. Mom asked me to fix her laptop. She’s out with some friends for lunch.”
“I can’t believe him,” I said, sitting up in bed and rubbing my face. “All right. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”
“We’ll be okay for a bit,” Leo said. “I don’t mind watching him if you’re busy.”
“Okay. I won’t be long.”
I hung up, checked the time, and looked down at Zane. He was watching me with his hands pillowed under his cheek.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “This was a bonus.”
I couldn’t help but smile then and brushed some hair back out of his face. “Do you mind if I shower?”
“Not at all. Do you mind if I join you?”
He rolled over me and out of bed, then took my hand to lead me through to the bathroom. His shower was over the tub, meaning it was big enough for two. Almost.
I let him get handsy as we cleaned up—it was only fair, really—and massaged his shoulders for as long as I dared before washing the suds away. As he turned the water off, I pressed a kiss to the wet skin on his neck.
It didn’t take long to dry off and get dressed. Neither of us bothered to shave, and Zane found a spare toothbrush for me so I could scrub my mouth clean. When I lingered in the hallway, Zane rose up onto his toes to kiss me again, and I got lost in the feeling of his hands on my arms as his mouth slowly worked over mine.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked.
“To pick your son up?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling stupid.
“Ellis—”
“Forget anything else. If you have stuff to do, that’s fine.”
“I don’t have anything to do,” he said.
I watched for a moment. Then he reached for his jacket and shrugged it on.
This time, when we walked down the street, I did take his hand, and he let me hold it.
The weather had turned cool overnight, and the sharp wind made me wish I’d hailed an Uber.
“Does your brother live at your mom’s, then?” Zane asked.
“No, he lives in Queens with his boyfriend.”
“He’s gay too?”
“You sound surprised,” I said, tugging on his hand and giving him a smile.
“I suppose I am. I haven’t ever heard of two brothers being gay before. Are you twins?”
“Nope. He’s two years younger than me. We don’t have any other brothers or sisters either, before you ask.”
“Oh. I’m one of five. All boys.”
“Wow.”
“None of them know I’m gay. Well, I think Cass suspects, but he’s never asked me outright.”
“That must be hard,” I said, running my thumb back and forth over his hand. “Not being out to them.”
He shrugged. “It’s easier than you think. I’m too young for them to be expecting me to get married yet. I’ll have to tell them eventually.”
It took all my self-control not to pull him in for a kiss. I guessed he wouldn’t want that.
“This is us,” I said, coming to a stop outside my mom’s place.
I knocked on the door, feeling Zane step back and slightly behind me. Leo answered, looking strangely calm for someone who had been burdened with his nephew unexpectedly for close to an hour.
“Hey,” I said. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Leo said, stepping aside to let us in.
“Oh. Leo, this is Zane. I was with him when you called….”
“Oh,” he said, giving me a knowing look. I decided not to dignify that with a response.
“Hi.” Zane waved awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you,” Leo said, being far nicer to Zane than he was to me. “You’re Nae’s friend, right?”
Leo and I shared a lot of the same friends, so I was almost surprised that he’d never met Zane before. There was probably a time when their paths had overlapped. Social circles with us tended to be fairly small.
I left them to chat and quickly walked through to check on my baby. Harrison was on a blanket in the middle of the floor, watching TV, surrounded by toys. He looked around when I walked in and made a little happy sound, then started crawling toward me. I met him halfway, picked him up, and gave him a big, smacking kiss.
“I changed his diaper,” Leo said, his voice telling me I was going to pay for that. “It was dirty when he got here.”
“Did Oliver say anything? Did he even call before he came over?”
Leo shook his head. “I was working on the laptop when he knocked on the door. He handed Harrison over and said something about being busy today. Then he left.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered, letting Harrison squirm around in my arms to watch TV over my shoulder.
“I didn’t want to argue with him.”
“No, that’s not your job,” I said with a sigh. “It’s mine. Sadly. Thanks for watching him, though. I really appreciate it.”
“There was someone in the car with him,” Leo said. “I don’t know who, though. They stayed there while Oliver brought him in.”
“Okay.”
Zane had stood silent, watching our exchange, and I was reminded that he wasn’t exactly talkative most of the time. I gave him a smile and shuffled Harrison around again, trying to keep him balanced while he used me as his own personal climbing frame.
“Are these Mom’s toys?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Ollie has his own things for Harrison,” I said for Zane’s benefit. “At least, I’m guessing he does. I don’t even know where he’s staying these days.
“Here,” I said, passing Harrison to Zane. “I’ll just tidy this stuff up.”
If he was surprised to suddenly be given a baby, he didn’t show it and expertly transferred Harrison to his hip. It didn’t take long for me to gather everything up and pack it
away in the plastic box where it was stored. Then I folded the blanket on top and tucked everything away in the hallway closet. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, Leo making conversation with Zane.
“Thanks again,” I said to Leo. “If he tries anything like this again, I’ll call the lawyer, but at the moment I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“Don’t blame you. And you know I’m happy to look after him anytime, right? I know you never say yes, but….”
“I know,” I told him and pulled my brother into a brief, tight hug.
“You want a ride home?” Leo asked. “It’s pretty cold out there.”
“I think we’re all right,” I said, looking to Zane, who nodded.
“See you later.” Zane nodded to Leo, who smiled back.
It was only my brother for now, but I was pleased he’d already met someone in my family.
I used a few different slings and harnesses to carry Harrison around, and swapped them out as he grew. At first I’d been convinced that the long piece of cloth would never be enough to keep him secure, although time and practice had proved me wrong. These days I could wrap myself—and him—into it with one hand, balancing Harrison close to my chest with the other. He was used to keeping still too, which made it much easier.
“Will he nap like that?” Zane asked as we headed back to my apartment.
“He won’t nap at all,” I said. “I’d give my right nut to get him to nap.”
“I wouldn’t,” Zane said with a smirk. I grinned back.
“He’s quite content. We’re both used to it. I’ll have to move him into the stroller soon. He’ll get too big to carry around like this eventually.”
“Don’t you use the stroller at all?”
“When I have to,” I said. “It’s good for carrying groceries. But I prefer this.”
This time it was Zane who sought out my hand, and I smiled to myself as we threaded our fingers together.
“You should bring him down to the center,” Zane said as we wandered along, in no rush, despite the less than great weather.