“Being vulnerable is hard for me, but you are so fucking amazing at it. You can say no, and I will forever respect your hard limits, but…yeah. I will selfishly indulge myself in your small, vulnerable body,” I say, running my finger over his hole. “I will use your little mouth, your tiny ass, and your adorable cock however I see fit. And you’ll like it.”
He whimpers, gripping me tight, brushing his lips across my nipple. “Yes. So much,” he says, latching on as he caresses my soft cock.
“You trust me, baby?”
“Uh-huh,” he says, his breath tickling me as the steam builds around us.
“Am I your fuck buddy?”
He widens his eyes and bites his lip, then shakes his head. He knows I like this look, but we’re both crystal clear on how we feel about pretending. So him melting into this sort of play is…fuck, it’s everything. I cup the back of his head, pleased and relieved.
“Good, baby. Now, let’s wash up, and I’ll let you nurse on my big cock when we get back in bed.”
He whines and answers by briefly, painfully, increasing the suction on my nipple before pulling away and grabbing the soap.
Definitelynotmy fuck buddy.
17
ANT
It turns out Philadelphia died two months ago when he tried to lure away the daughter of an ex-football player. The investigation into the still massively jacked athlete-father who waited outside Philadelphia’s house with a baseball bat is ongoing. Erik talked to Anders about it, and Wimberley is on it.
It’s the least we can do for the father, considering he saved us a trip.
Looks like the universe is giving us a two-fer because now we’re in Fort Lauderdale’s condo, and he’s on death’s door. Makes sense—heisalmost ninety years old, after all—but it’s still a little bittersweet.
His hospice nurse is, at best, inattentive. We could easily put something nasty into one of his lines, but from what we can tell, his death is slow and agonizing.
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” I mutter.
Erik lets the joke go without commentary, so I look at him.
“You okay?”
He scratches his nose. “Mostly.”
“You alright with us leaving him here?”
He nods. Seeing my curious stare, he shrugs. “I’ll explain later.”
We get into our loaner car, a gorgeous convertible, and ride with the top down and the sun on our faces. It’s glorious.
Still, when Erik goes quiet, it’s absolute. He’s not fidgeting or messing with the radio or making calls. He’s just driving the car, his loose hair whipping about as he stares ahead.
It takes every bit of my self-control to not wheedle an answer out of him. I’m rewarded for my patience about halfway through the drive when he starts talking, so I sit back and listen.
“My mother is dying. I don’t think they wanted me to know, but one of my cousins in Norway posted something on social media. That was about three months ago. I don’t know if she’s still alive. I don’t know if I care. When I was a kid, my father would hit me, but it was my mother who hated everything about me.”
Oh.
“I’m sorry. That sounds heavy.”
“It fucked with me for a few days, but then I looked around and saw the family I’ve made for myself, and I didn’t feel so bad, you know?” he says carefully.
“Yes. I know exactly what you mean.”
“Thing is, being gay was just the convenient thing for her to hate about me. In the end, there wasn’t anything I could’ve done to make her happy. When I was a kid, I never knew what I did to deserve being treated like that. When I began to understand I was gay, I initially bought into the narrative that it was a bad thing and a perfectly reasonable excuse for her to hate me.”
