by Anna Martin
“Oh. I wondered if it was something to do with not exposing Harrison to the evil television.”
“No,” I said with a snort. “Some kids’ TV is awesome. Have you seen Adventure Time?”
“Yes,” he said emphatically.
“I love it. I’m obsessed. He’s too young to get it yet, though.”
“It’s wasted on anyone under the age of fifteen.”
“You’re probably right.”
He wound a long stretch of mozzarella around his finger and sucked it into his mouth while I tried not to stare.
“This is really good,” he said when he caught me staring.
“Thanks. It’s actually pretty easy to make. Like lasagna, without the beef.”
“Mm.”
After we finished eating, I set the plates aside, downed half my glass of wine, and leaned back against the sofa cushions, rubbing my overfull stomach.
“So,” Zane said, running his hand up and down my arm from elbow to wrist. “What are we going to have as background noise while we make out like horny teenagers?”
“Well,” I said, then cleared my throat. “I thought Die Hard.”
“Ah. A classic.”
I already had the movie downloaded onto my computer, so it only took a moment to get it ready to play. I turned the lights off, the one from the hallway enough to see by, and pulled the curtains closed.
When I settled back again, it was with Zane’s head on my shoulder. We made it about five minutes into the movie before his lips were on my skin.
When the movie finished and Alan Rickman fell to his dramatic death, Zane rolled onto his back and looked up at me.
“Still a classic.”
“Hmm.”
I leaned in and kissed him again, even though my lips were feeling sore, bruised from all the kissing and biting we’d already done.
“Do you have music on there too?” he asked.
“Sure. Lots. I have music on all the time.”
“Okay. Stay here.”
Zane hauled himself off the sofa and fiddled around on the computer for a minute, his back obscuring what was going on. I was quietly amused and intrigued in equal parts. My neck was starting to ache, so I wriggled into a sitting position.
The speakers weren’t on particularly loud, but I still jumped when the track started.
“My mind is telling me no… but my body… my body is telling me yes….”
“Is that—” I started, and he turned back. The words dried up in my throat as he bit his lip and smoldered at me. There was no other way to describe it. “What the… what are you doing?”
Zane cocked his head to the side as the music started. “Seducing you.”
“To… ‘Bump ’n Grind’?”
“I’m from the ’hood, baby. This is how we do it.”
Even I could admit that the rhythmical rolling of his hips was mesmerizing. Zane spread his knees obscenely wide as he danced, and I was torn between desperate arousal and hysterical laughter. It was so cheesy, so very retro nineties slick, but he looked so good doing it. The guy had natural rhythm like nothing I’d ever seen before.
“Come here,” he said, holding his hand out to me.
I was laughing as I gave him my hand and he tugged me to my feet. With my hands on his hips and his arms around my neck, I pressed my forehead to his.
“You dance good,” he murmured.
“So do you,” I croaked back.
“Do you want to take me to bed?”
“Yes. But I really want you to turn this record off first.”
He broke first, a little giggle, and it didn’t take long for us both to collapse onto the sofa, holding our stomachs from laughing too hard.
“Oh my God,” I gasped as the song ended. “I can’t believe you.”
Zane looked over to me and grinned. “I try.”
“I mean it. You’re like no one I’ve ever met before.”
“Ellis?”
“Yeah?” I said, looking at him.
“Take me to bed.”
It seemed appropriate to carry him, even if he did protest and squirm rather halfheartedly as I walked through to my bedroom and dumped him on the bed. Not one to stand on ceremony, Zane stripped off his clothes, lay back against my pillow, and lazily palmed his cock.
All I could do was stare at him.
“You could join me,” he said.
I turned back to the door and shut it firmly, then turned the baby monitor down low so it wouldn’t disturb us, but if Harrison woke up screaming, I’d still hear.
While I stripped off my own clothes, leaving them to fall wherever, Zane started jerking himself in earnest, one hand on his cock, the other pinching at a nipple. When I was naked too I crawled up his body and batted his hand away until he let me take over, and I angled his cock between my lips. He bucked into my mouth a few times, but we both knew what he really wanted, and when I slapped his thigh to get him to roll over, he actually sobbed.
When I rimmed him he came apart at the seams.
He didn’t even touch his cock as I spread his cheeks with my palms and let my tongue loosen his hole. His hands were bunched into fists while his forearms were used as leverage to push back against me. Getting him to make those noises was becoming like a full-time ambition of mine. He sounded incredible.
Zane was still facedown when I smeared plenty of lube over my cock and pushed into him. He moaned and whimpered and said he couldn’t take it, then snarled and grabbed at my arm when I tried to pull away.
I pinned him down and kissed his neck and his shoulders and tried to keep my mouth occupied on one part of his body or another in case I did something ridiculous like admit I was in love. Not just when we were having sex, but really in love with him, all the way.
Still too soon, the voice at the back of my head whispered, and I nodded to it. Of course it was too soon. We were only weeks in.
Zane humped my sheets as he came, and I bit his shoulder as I chased my own orgasm. Then he claimed he couldn’t move, his thighs weren’t working, and I had to stumble through to the bathroom on my own unsteady legs to find something to clean him up with.
We almost fought over who had to sleep in the wet patch. Then I found a spare blanket and used that as a barrier until morning. There wasn’t much point. Zane slept practically on top of me anyway.
I woke to the sound of Harrison singing to himself. The noise carried tinny through the monitor, and I smiled as I hauled myself out of bed, spared a look at Zane sprawled out between my sheets, then went to the bathroom before collecting Harrison.
I changed his diaper then carried him back through to my room. Early morning cuddles were something we did fairly often, especially when I wanted or needed some more time to snooze.
Harrison seemed amused and confused at the sight of Zane in my bed, but not upset. I settled back with him cradled to my chest and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He still smelled like baby, although it felt like he lost a bit more of that every day.
Zane hummed and rolled over.
“Do you mind me bringing him in?” I asked in a low voice. “He’ll just want to get up otherwise.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after five.”
He groaned, rubbed his eyes, then nodded. He grabbed a pair of my pajama pants from the floor and tugged them on, then rolled back and tucked his hands under his cheek.
I curled up on my side, facing away from him, and helped Harrison settle back too. Zane curled around me from behind, fitting his body to mine and pressing a kiss to the space between my shoulder blades. His arm snuck around my waist and over Harrison’s too, resting on my son’s back to keep him safe.
Harrison sighed heavily, seemingly not bothered that we were sharing a bed with an extra person this morning. I knew I wouldn’t sleep deeply again now, not with Harrison sleeping next to me, but I let myself doze away until the alarm on Zane’s phone beeped at seven.
Having never slept late enough in his
life to be woken by an alarm, Harrison took exception to this and voiced it rather loudly.
“Fuck!” Zane exclaimed and fumbled with the phone on the nightstand until the alarm was turned off. “Fuck. Sorry.”
I was laughing as I gathered Harrison back up in my arms and shushed him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. The bad noise has gone now.”
“I’m sorry,” Zane murmured, rolling back over to hug us both. “I didn’t mean to scare you, little dude.”
Harrison turned his big, wet eyes to Zane with his bottom lip still trembling. I wasn’t sure how quickly Zane would be forgiven, but Harrison surprised me by going straight into Zane’s outstretched arms for a hug.
Zane looked surprised too, and I gathered them both up, Zane on my lap, Harrison held loosely to his chest.
Wow. I could get used to this.
I forced traitorous thoughts from my mind—it wasn’t the right time to be thinking about getting used to anything with Zane. It was too new. Too soon.
It had been a long courting period with Oliver. The two of us had met in college when he was studying economics and I was still a design student. We’d danced around the fact that we liked each other for months, then dated casually for months more before making anything official.
The wedding, well, that had been a last-minute decision. As soon as it became legal in New York back in 2011, we wanted to be part of what we’d all been so vocal in campaigning for. It meant different things to all of us: Oliver objected to the idea of anyone telling him who he could or couldn’t marry, Ben had been raised by two moms his whole life, Naema’s parents had been part of the civil rights movement in the sixties, when it was illegal for a black woman to marry a white man, and she saw same-sex marriage equality as an extension of their struggle.
Oliver and I were the only gay guys in a couple in our group of friends at that time, and we sort of bowed to peer pressure in the best possible way when the ban on same-sex marriage was lifted. He still wanted a big wedding, as big as possible, and we booked our slot at city hall only after we’d booked the reception at the Riviera.
Our parents both contributed. His were fairly well off and could afford to cough up to make their only child’s dream wedding come true. I referred to Ollie as “bridezilla” on more than one occasion. He wasn’t the easiest person to deal with in those few months while we made wedding plans.
Hindsight was a wonderful thing, and I’d spent hours since the divorce thinking back, wondering if I should have known, if there had been some clues over the years that it would all break down in the worst possible way. He’d always been my prince, my knight in shining armor. I looked up to him, worshiped him at times, thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
I didn’t look at Zane like that. And I didn’t see that reflected back at me from him either.
Within weeks of meeting Zane for the first time, I was waking up with him and letting him comfort my son in all the different ways he needed comforting. This wasn’t a fairytale romance; it felt solid and real and grown-up, even though Zane was younger than Oliver. He had an old soul in him, one that saw the world in a different way than the rest of us.
“We should get up,” I said.
“No,” he moaned and squeezed me tighter. “I don’t wanna.”
“Come on. We’re wasting the best part of the day!”
Zane hauled himself—and Harrison—out of bed and stood in my pajama pants, which were slipping down on his waist from being too big. He saw my eyes go to his hipbones and smirked, pulling them back up a little self-consciously.
“Do you want a shower?” I asked. “I’ll go get the little dude changed. Then we could swap?”
“Sounds good to me. Go to Daddy,” he said as he passed Harrison back.
I pressed a kiss to his forehead as we traded, and he padded off to the bathroom.
Since Harrison was still clean from his earlier diaper change, I found a shirt and jeans and quickly got him dressed. He had an adorable knitted sweater that went over the top of the shirt which made him look like the world’s youngest (and most adorable) arty hipster kid.
I smoothed the soft curls over his head, knowing I’d need to get his hair cut soon and really not wanting to. The mousy brown ringlets I hated for myself looked adorable on my son, and I kissed the top of his head. The haircut could wait.
Zane emerged from the bathroom wearing just a towel, and I nearly forgot that I was trying to be a responsible parent. He looked too good in nothing.
“What are we going to do today?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t got any plans.”
“Something fun,” he declared as I set Harrison on the floor for Zane to watch while I showered.
They were both in the kitchen when I was done getting ready, sharing a bowl of Zane’s magical banana and yogurt breakfast. I swiped an apple from the bowl on the counter and stuck a few pieces of bread in the toaster.
“Wanna go to the zoo?” Zane asked.
“Which one?”
“Don’t care. But it’s not going to be too hot today. We could take him to Central Park.”
I nodded around a mouthful of apple. “We haven’t been there yet.”
“Really? Cool! We could take a picnic.”
“You’re adorable,” I said. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
I left Zane in charge of sandwiches and snacks while I looked up the zoo’s opening hours online and booked our tickets in advance. The subway was easier than the bus as far as navigating the stroller was concerned. With two people, Zane could carry Harrison while I carried the folded-up stroller.
Harrison was happy with this arrangement too. It meant he could sit on Zane’s lap the whole way.
Things like days out in the city were so much easier with two people to watch the baby. It meant I could relax just a bit more, letting Zane share some of the responsibility I was used to shouldering on my own.
He was a natural around kids, even though he claimed to have hardly any experience dealing with them outside of his art classes. He was more than happy to sit Harrison on his hip and explain about the meerkats and anteaters, which Harrison seemed to be fascinated by. I let my hand linger on Zane’s back, happy to watch, more than happy to listen to him.
It was still a little strange, being out in public with him like this, the three of us just another couple with a kid to anyone looking on. We were surrounded by couples with children—most of them older than Harrison. No one looked at Zane and me any different, though. We were just two more people and a baby in a throng of other adults and kids.
Sometimes being unique was important. And other times, there was nothing better than blending into the background until I was indistinguishable from the chameleons.
Chapter 7
“I need food,” I said, mournfully looking into a fridge that was almost bare. With Zane around more and more, my fridge seemed to empty far quicker than I was used to. It wasn’t that he ate a lot, more like he convinced me to actually eat regular meals.
“Mhmm. And diapers,” Zane added. He was sitting on my counter eating a cookie. “What? I changed him earlier, and there’s only a few left.”
“Come on, then,” I said. “Get dressed and we’ll go to the supermarket.”
“The cool Asian one?”
“No, the large international conglomerate one.”
“Boo.”
“I know. But I don’t know if I trust the Japanese diapers. I can’t read the packaging.”
Zane snorted with laughter and hopped down. “Won’t be long.”
While he put some respectable clothing on, I gathered up Harrison and Rory and strapped him into the rarely used car seat. It slotted neatly into his stroller, although I mostly didn’t bother using it like that anymore. He was too big.
“I didn’t know you had a car,” Zane said as we took the elevator down to the basement.
“That’s because I hardly ever use it,” I said. “I bought it when I was a student,
and it’s useful for vacations and stuff. Plus, I don’t have to pay to park it here since we own the unit in the building.”
Sometimes owning the car felt like a useless waste of time and resource, especially considering where we lived in Brooklyn. Then there were the times that I needed to get somewhere fast, or pick up groceries and diapers, and I realized how much I still relied on it.
I got Harrison strapped into the backseat and laughed at Zane when he pouted about being sent to the backseat too.
“You can keep him company back there so he doesn’t scream the whole way,” I said, and he relented.
“MJ?” Zane asked as my stereo started with the engine.
“Tell ’em that it’s human nature,” I warbled. He laughed and leaned through the gap to give me a kiss. I responded with much enthusiasm.
When I needed to really stock up, I drove across the bridge to Jersey and the big box stores where I could pick up what I needed in bulk. The parking lot at the supermarket was fairly empty, and I let out a little sigh of relief. Harrison got bored quickly when I was grocery shopping. I liked to get in and out as fast as possible. I let him sit in the cart—that bit he liked—and put Zane on Rory-watch. We’d had a couple of near misses, and I didn’t want to lose our stuffed dinosaur forever.
Zane snarled at me when I added chicken and pork to the basket and tried to get me to exchange it for tofu. I strongly opposed this, even when he gave me his pouty, big puppy-dog eyes. Apparently the fish on ice freaked him out, so he took the cart and went in search of vegan-friendly chips.
It didn’t take long for me to get my fish cleaned and portioned out as I liked it, and I carefully balanced the package with the other bits I’d collected as I wandered through the aisles, trying to find Zane.
The familiar sound of my baby shrieking turned my wander into a jog. Even as my logical side calmly said that Zane had probably just told him “no” to chocolate cereal, the freaked-out dad shouted “kidnapper!”
I rounded into the snacks aisle and stopped dead. Harrison was crying—really crying, distressed crying—and trying to squirm out of Oliver’s grasp.