He pinched Tarius’s waist. “Jeuel, you dork. I mean, Yvan’s smart, too, but he’s also one, and not showing off old words that sound like STIs.”
“Good thing, or Frey would be coming for our heads. I distinctly remember orders not to teach him cuss words of any kind until he’s at least four years old.”
“Yeah, well, Frey’s expectations are high from the uncle who started repeating cuss words when he was three.” Bransonwould never live down the night that Jaysan went into labor with Morgyn, and a brash, mouthy three-year-old Branson got a little too cocky with the phrases “oh shit” and “son of a fucker.”
“I’m sure Gaven has told Frey to limit his expectations.” Tarius drew him closer, his hands resting loosely on Branson’s waist. “About the cussing thing. Not about how amazing and kind and generous Yvan’s Uncle Branson is.”
Branson slid his own hands beneath Tarius’s suit jacket and cinched them behind Tarius’s back, their bellies nearly touching. “Flattery will get you epic snuggles tonight, mister. Please, keep telling me how fantastic I am.”
“You’re also a world-class snuggler.”
“And?”
“Did I mention modest?”
“Hmm.” Branson rested his head on Tarius’s shoulder so he could press his nose into the crook of Tarius’s neck, one of his very favorite ways to hold his husband. “Dance with me? It’s been ages.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Tarius led him to the small dance floor, which was filled with couples moving to the sensual music. They resumed their earlier positions, loosely wrapped up in each other, holding without trapping, claiming without guarding.
Just two men in love, loving each other in the ways that suited them. Two years ago, they’d begun their solid allyship that, over time, had turned into a wonderful best-friendship. Six months ago, they’d danced in a similar way at the Winter Solstice Gala, effectively coming out to the world as a couple, and nothing had turned out as Branson had expected.
No, scratch that. He was even more in love with Tarius than he’d ever expected to be, and he couldn’t imagine not being married to the man. Not sleeping beside him every night, making him coffee every morning, and teasing each other over the hardest answers to the newspaper’s crossword puzzle. Hecouldn’t imagine not having Jeuel and Trei in his life, with a new nephew on the way. He couldn’t imagine not having the newer, stronger relationships he’d forged with his parents, now that there were finally, blessedly, no more secrets between them.
He was finally free to simply…be. To be whoever that man was. Whoever he wanted him to be.
And as he danced with his husband, surrounded by their friends and family, Branson knew that sometimes the most valuable things in life were the ones you least expected.
