“Good.” Cypress relaxed, refilling his glass and nearly emptying the bottle. He poured the last bit into Tom’s cup to top him off.
“It was pretty awesome,” Tom said. “Once I finally did it, it was so easy. I’m gonna add it to my daily affirmations. I am worthy, I am beautiful, and I will always tell Junior to fuck off.”
“I’m glad.” Cypress looked thoughtful. “And you said all of them this morning?”
“I told you I did. Even the dirty one.”
“All three times?” Cypress pressed.
Tom paused to soak the next terrible lie that was about to come out of his mouth in wine. “Well. Yes. Maybe. Almost like three.”
“Almost?”
“Okay, fine. I only did two of them all three times.”
“Why, Tom,” Cypress teased, “looks like you’re getting spanked after all.”
“Oh?” Tom breathed, the warmth in his face now spreading to his chest. The rush from being teased earlier today was rapidly pushing everything into high gear, and his cock flexed in his jeans.
“Well, you did just try to lie to me, terribly by the way.” Cypress walked around the bar to check on the rice, lifting the lid and fluffing it with a big wooden spoon. “I’m also disappointed you only did two full recitations of your affirmations.”
Tom’s heart began to thud.
“No, actually, you know what? I’m glad you didn’t because this is giving me the opportunity to teach you a new method for learning self-love.”
“Does that mean we’re going to, you know, do stuff right now?”
“Your eagerness is very flattering, but not yet.” Cypress pointed the spoon at him. “First, we’re going to eat this dinner and dessert. And then, and only then, will we have sexy dessert.”
“Yes, sir,” Tom chirped obediently.
Cypress gave him a heated look at the formal title, pointing the spoon again. “Watch it.”
“I’ll behave.” Tom resisted the urge to add ‘sir.’
“Good.”
Summoned by the scent of food, Mister Doodles wandered around the bar and posted herself by Cypress’s foot.
He pointed the spoon down at her, warning, “Don’t even think about it, pooch.”
Trying to get his body to switch off from sex, Tom decided to change the conversation up. “So, uh, did you and your family always live here?”
“My grandparents bought the house in 1954.” Cypress turned off the heat on the stove, grabbing another bottle of wine and opening it up. “My grandfather was the first black lawyer here in Mayfield, and he opened up the first black law firm, too. Mom and Dad got married in 1977. I came along in 1979, and we moved in… let’s see. Yeah, 1979.”
Tom laughed. “Wow, were you that bad of a baby?”
“Only in that I needed to eat and be cared for, and my parents were both working two jobs to put themselves through school. My grandparents offered for them to move in. And by offered, I mean my grandma told them to.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Cypress reassured him, walking back with the wine over to the bar and hopping up on one of the stools. “I’m not. I got to grow up in this big house full of people that loved me. I came out when I was thirteen.Thirteen. Because I knew no matter what, my family only had love for me.”
“That’s amazing.” Tom tried not to let his envy show as he sat down next to him, letting their legs brush together.
“They all came with me to my first Pride parade. I was… God, I think twenty-two? Twenty-three? It was definitely in the early 2000s.”
“You waited that long after coming out so early?”
