BigOnBacks:Please tell me you’re fucking close
dicKmedown:Call me your favorite fuck toy, and I’m right fucking behind you
I swallow, his words echoing through my body. I’ve never called a partner anything anywhere near that before. I’ve never allowed myself to lose myself that much in anyone. I’m not even sure I like that kind of dirty talk. Okay, I’m lying. I fucking love it when it’s coming from him. It’s powerful seeing words like that in writing. It’s a huge fucking turn-on. I test the words on my tongue before I type them, and my heart almost explodes in my chest. I don’t think I can do it, though.
BigOnBacks:You’re my favorite
dicKmedown:Really? That’s the best you can do?
The little fucker.
BigOnBacks:Fuck you and your sloppy little boy hole!
I throw in an exclamation mark for good measure.There!
dicKmedown:That’s what I’m fucking talking about. Now jam it all the way in, big guy. Don’t you dare hold fucking back on me. I want you so fucking deep I can taste you
And I do. I tunnel in and out of my fist, envisioning that it’s his tight hole. I lose myself in the fantasy like I’ve never lost myself in anything sexual before. Seconds later, when I shoot all over myself, shouting my release into my empty bedroom, my mind is finally blank,devoid of any conscious thought. I guess there’s nothing to reset your brain like blowing all over yourself.
It’s not until I reach for the switch on the bedside lamp that it hits me. I completely forgot to put up Kayden’s lights in his bedroom. Which was pretty much why I went over in the first place. I was too caught up in him, the way he moved around in his own space, the conversation that just flowed so easily. I forgot all about time and space and fucking lamps. I’ll just have to put them up on Saturday after I take him to the garden center. Maybe he’ll cook for me again. I could kind of get used to that. Yeah, I’m a glutton for punishment, aren’t I?
Chapter Seven
Kayden
Ilinger in the doorway, my hands tucked in my pockets, just watching Dad as he sits bent over his drafting table, probably working on another custom project. I can’t help smiling. Dad’s so old school, still drawing every little detail by hand instead of using one of those fancy programs, where some AI bot does almost all the work for you. I admire him for that. It takes a certain amount of dedication and integrity to withstand the allure of modern technology, but Dad insists. He’s always been patient, both when it comes to letting his creativity grow out of his mind and when it comes to letting me grow and find my own way. But patience doesn’t mean passiveness. Not when it comes to Dad. He constantly strives toward getting better, toward growing the company, and developing his own skills. And he was never passive when it came to my transness either. He never stuck his head in the sand and pretended it didn’t exist or that it would go away. He never once told me it wasjust a phaseor asked me if I was sure. He was right there, all the time, like this strong oak tree, sheltering me, keeping me safe from harm, watching over me every step of the way.
“You need any help?” I eventually ask, and Dad looks up, his glasses perched on his nose, fondness building in his eyes.
“No, but come on in, Kayden. I could use your opinion on something.”
“Sure.” I trail toward Dad, who’s gotten up from his chair to grab me a stool from the corner of his studio. Dad used to draw at his office at home during those early days, when he and Caleb were just starting out, but after they bought the buildings down at the marina, Dad had the first floor turned into two large spaces, an office for him and another for Caleb. While Dad is the company’s creative source, Caleb is in charge of sales and securing new clients. He took a degree in business and marketing while he and Dad built their business.
“Is Caleb…” I trail off. I haven’t seen him all day, but then again, I’ve been cooped up in my office, working on theirInstagram, uploading some of the pictures I took of their employees yesterday. I want their account to give off a vibe of one big family working together, becausethat’s what the company has become over the years. Every employee is just as important as everyone else. It might be a business, but it’s so much more than that, and I want potential clients to see that when they look at our website and our social media accounts.
“Nah, he’s in Providence, meeting up with a potential client.”
“Oh, okay.” I relax a little. I’ve been trying to avoid Caleb as much as I can at work ever since he came over to my place. Things got…weirdtoward the end of the night, or perhaps it was just me who felt it. I don’t know. The way I reacted to Caleb in my space took me completely by surprise. The way I was so tuned into him, to his every movement, to his voice, and his scent was such a foreign experience, and it left me feeling more confused than ever. Then, there was the unexpected disappointment and rejection I felt when Caleb left. It’s mostly myself I’m angry with, though. Caleb did nothing wrong. Sure, he might have flirted with me, but that’s just the way he is. He’s always been like that, and I don’t think he can help it. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Unless, of course, he wasn’t flirting, and I’m just making shit up. It’s possible.
So I’ve tried to keep my distance from him, and perhaps he’s tried to stay away from me too, because I haven’t seen him much this week. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know how to feel about that. I miss him, while at the same time, I dread running into him. I know I need to get a grip. Caleb’s my boss. I can’t avoid him forever.
“Come on.” Dad taps the stool, and I drop onto it.
“So, what did you want my opinion on?” I look at the table and realize that Dad wasn’t drawing at all. Instead, he has his iPad open to the website of a bed-and-breakfast.
He groans, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “This.” He digs at the screen. “I can’t decide if your mother would prefer a quaint little bed-and-breakfast, or something more fancy. What do you think, Kayden?”
I chuckle because this is the same scenario every year when Dad tries to surprise Mom with something for their anniversary. The years I was away at school in Boston, he called me, groaning over the phone. I always told him what I tell him right now.
“Dad, you know Mom better than anyone. You know she doesn’t care about stuff like that. She just wants to be with you.” A dull ache builds in my chest, and I recognize the familiar sense of longing. If I could one day just have a fraction of what Mom and Dad have, I don’t think I’d want anything else.
He shakes his head. “I know, I know, but I just want it tobe special.”
“I know, and it always is. No matter what you end up doing, you know Mom will gush about it for the rest of the year to anyone who’ll listen. As in me,” I add with a groan.
Dad laughs in that booming way of his that comes deep from within his chest. “Ah, you poor kid. Must be tough having two parents who actually like each other.”
“It is! You have no idea of the hardship I go through.” I bump Dad’s shoulder with mine, and he winces, “Careful there. You aren’t as scrawny as you used to be, kid.”