“Oh, fuck yes!” Dalton has to jog a little to catch up with me, but when he’s finally at my side, he… slides his fingers between mine with such confidence and ease, I’m not sure how to react, torn between the instinct to pull away (this is a public park after all), and squeezing him back with the excitement of a schoolboy.
I settle on leaving my hand in his like some limp fish.
But my mind races.
He’s myfiancé. I came out to my family. Should I not care what anyone in the park thinks? Is it evenlike meto hold hands with anyone though? Dalton is a means to an end after all. Then again, if it does bring me pleasure to hold his hand (does it?) then should I not do as I please? Isn’t that kind of attitude desired from a Van der Horn man?
Dalton doesn’t seem to have any such qualms, because his smile only widens once we face the food truck menu. “Grilled cheese? Yes please.”
I choose to go with a more balanced grilled chicken and avocado on wholegrain bread, but it’s not like he is the one who needs to watch his diet because—well, because of what we’ll surely do later today. It’s inevitable. We’re two attractive men with voracious sexual appetites. At this point, it’s just a question ofwherewe’ll fuck, and whether it happens before or after all that necessary shopping I need to do for him.
“Are you paying together?” asks the guy in the food truck, and I can practically hear Dalton taking a deep breath.
Of course. He doesn’t have any money on him.
But I ignore the moment of tension and nod, placing cash on the little money tray.
Dalton seems thoughtful as our food is getting made, and I can picture the emasculation drama unravelling in his mind, but I won’t start the subject if he doesn’t, and especially not in front of a stranger.
It does give me a few minutes to ponder our situation though. Even if Dalton goes back to work, and I’m already giving it an ‘if’, he’ll be earning pennies in comparison to my income. And as I watch him grab my coffee for me along with my sandwich, I realize I don’t mind. I might be into him railing me, but that doesn’t mean I expect (or want) him to take care of me in other ways.
Hell, it felt good to buy him that phone, the clothes, the food, to be the one filled in on the details of his medical treatment or deciding what we do today.
I don’t expect the kiss on the lips that comes just as he puts the sandwich in my hand. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I sort myself out. For the other stuff too.”
My head’s an arid desert, but then comes the monsoon, and everything starts to bloom as my heart flutters in a way I might need to have checked out. “You’re welcome, but… no,” I say, trying my best to not let my mind linger on the kiss Dalton has given me in public, and move on to what he actually said.
He stills. “No?”
I shake my head and move away from the truck, because I don’t need strangers listening to our conversation. But I know thiswoodland well, and instead of following the paved route, I head toward a small path hidden by a fresh layer of snow. The trees growing on either side form a gothic arch, and the snow covering each branch shimmers in the faint sunlight, as if someone’s arranged it there for a backdrop to our ‘romantic’ stroll.
“No. You’re mine now, and I won’t have you wanting.”
Ah, it feels good to say that. Power trembles inside me at this display of ownership.
Dalton gives me a shy smile, and I had no idea that was a facial expression possible on someone as shameless as him. Guess I still have a lot to learn about my fiancé.
“It’s just that… you know, I’m not a leech. I want to treat you. I want you to feel I can provide you with shit too.”
So adorably earnest. He really doesn’t play games. I should have guessed that by how he arranged the chess pieces.
“You are providing me with things I need already,” I tell him, bowing my head to avoid disturbing the snow on a particularly laden branch.
Dalton chuckles and blushes a bit as I lead him to a bench that’s been shielded from most of the snow by the outcropping of a dense bush. Once he realizes what I’m doing, he puts down his cup and clears the thin layer of snow off with his arm. Is it silly of me to find that charming?
“My dad used to say fighting is the only thing I’m good at in life, but I guess he couldn’t know just how in demand I will be when it comes to fucking.” He winks at me as though it’s all a joke, but the reminder of his father’s existence makes my blood pressure rise, right before another wave of annoyance rushes through me as I settle down.
Boundaries need to be put in place right away.
“I don’t want you to waste your energy on other people.”
Dalton sits next to me, leaving no space between our thighs where they touch. I’m struggling with his closeness in public after so many years in the closet, but I’m too greedy for it to push him away.
“What?” he says and takes a big bite of his steaming sandwich.
There it is again, that choking feeling at the base of my throat. I put the paper cup on the bench next to me, worried I might end up squeezing it too hard.
It’s cold, but inside I’m burning, and there is no stopping this inferno now that Dalton stoked it again. We’re alone now, but this is a park, and anyone might just appear at the end of the path to watch us and listen to the tension in my voice.
