I clear my throat. “I don’t want you to fuck other people.”
Dalton frowns, staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart beat faster. “Well… yeah. We’re getting married, right? We’re making a commitment.” He leans closer to whisper in my ear. “And I want to cream your pie in peace at some point.”
Now the burn spills to my skin, but I’m determined to pretend his wordsdid notmake me blush like a maiden, but my mind immediately follows his words, delivering images so lewd my hole quivers in response.
“I like using condoms,” I tell him, because cleaning my skin after sex is already a chore. I won’t be dealing with cum drizzling out of me for God knows how long! “And… well, I won’t be sleeping with anyone else either,” I say as if there’s been anyone not named Dalton on my radar since I saw those Grindr messages.
Dalton sighs, and I can smell the disappointment on him, but he doesn't voice it, instead nipping on my ear with his greasy lips. “Good, because I may seem harmless to you, but I wouldn’t be to anyone who thinks they can make a move on you.” As if to make that even clearer, he puts his leg over my thigh.
I should tell him off. For thinking he can threaten people for wanting me, and for displaying his claim on me like this.
Is it such a sin that I like it?
Hot breath creates a vaporous cloud between our faces, and just as he’s about to lean in, I lower my gaze to where we’re touching. “Someone could walk by.”
Dalton glances down the empty path. “I agree this area is too family friendly for getting freaky in the bushes, but… this is fine, right?”
My chest shouldn’t feel so tight, because, technically speaking, he’s right. We’re not doing anything illicit, or illegal, but still, I feel uncertain about touching a man in a public setting. I’ve been hiding my whole life, and that seemed the right thing to do. Why would I change now, just because it feels good?
“I’m not quite sure,” I say and bite into my sandwich. It’s warm, and somehow even better than it would have been if I’d eaten it indoors. Or alone. “I try not to overthink it, but I know my father wouldn’t approve, and I guess I want him to be proud of me… wherever he is.”
Dalton slowly pulls back his leg, and I miss it already. Fuck.
“He wouldn’t have liked you being gay? Your family seemed surprisingly okay with it.”
I have another bite of my sandwich, even though my appetite’s dwindling. “I don’t think he would, no. He was a very… traditional man, and I kept disappointing him.”
A laugh escapes my lips, despite feeling sad rather than happy. I try not to think about Father much, because whenever I do, guilt eats at me like corrosion through iron. “Even if he accepted that I’m gay, he would want me to keep it private, completely on the side, and… he would want me to become the kind of man he raised me to be.”
Dalton frowns, watching me with all his attention. On the night I met him, I condescendingly judged that he could only keep one thought in his mind at a time, but now it seems that I am that thought, and I like it.
“And what kind of man would that be? Didn’t you take poisons on his command?” He lowers his voice. “Are you not the one Van der Horn everyone fears? I know Damen’s dangerous, or that Remo and his baseball bat are lifetime injury-makers, hell, most of the Van der Horn men are people you tread carefully around, but you… I saw you at the club or at the casino a few times and I used to think to myself that you’re as straightlaced as they come. What else could your father have possibly wanted?”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this. He’s practically a stranger, who ended up being myfiancéby accident, a man meant to die on Christmas Day, but when I speak, he leans in, eyes pinned to my face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single word.
Despite the power in his muscles, he doesn’t feel… dangerous. I should know better than to trust my impulses by now, but unlike Damen, Dalton doesn’t mock me. He doesn’t judge me. He’s just…here.
“Spread my seed, I suppose,” I say with a little grin. “Make more Van der Horns instead of—” I choke on the cold air, shocked I’ve almost said the complete truth without thinking. But it’s mine, and I won’t share it with anyone.
Dalton laughs and bumps his forehead against my temple. “Instead ofgettingbred?”
I really can’t have the sandwich right now. I don’t think my stomach can take anything but coffee. “There’s that,” I tell him, and before I can think, my hand slides into his pocket, where he’s keeping his own warm. “What I’m trying to say is that there’s all this bullshit tied into what it means to be a man, especially one from my family, and it’s not easy to let go of that.” Even saying this much feels like a breach of some unspoken man code.
Dalton squeezes my hand, his green eyes so warm they could melt the falling snow. “I get that. One time my dad caught me with another guy in the middle of things, and later he said,” Dalton deepens his voice comically, “‘well, at least you were on top’, like he was giving me a trophy, or something. Fuck him, and fuck that. Made me feel lousy to hear his fucked-up comment. I tried the other side of the coin once, and wow, I couldn’t do that. I appreciate every guy willing to let me in. Though… other guys don’t exist anymore as we established, so I appreciateyou. The way you yield under me? Becauseyouwant to? BecauseImake you want to? It’s hot. End of story. You’re Corvus fucking Van der Horn. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Sorry, end of rant.”
I’m speechless.
I’m not immune to information. I know people like what they like, and that doesn’t define who they are, but I’ve never felt that pertainedto me, yet here is Dalton, a man who is as masculine as they come, and he’s telling me he tried bottoming at some point? Just like that?
“Were you in love with that guy?” I ask, once again in the grips of petty jealousy.
Dalton looks as if he’s been caught red-handed but then smiles, rubbing his thumb over my hand. “Yeah… I was seventeen. Of course I was in love with him.”
I hate that stranger from Dalton’s past so fucking much. May there be lead in his piping and asbestos in his walls.
“Was he that first guy you were with? Sounds like you have plenty of experience,” I say, leaning closer and grabbing my coffee.
Dalton laughs. “No, I was fourteen and didn’t know what the fuck I was doing with my first. But won’t lie, I got a lot of notches on my bedpost since then. How about you? Who was your first crush?” he asks like it’s no big deal to talk like this to me.
