Chapter 1
Louis
18 years
“When are you telling your parents?”
“As soon as my father gets back from his business trip, I promise.” David’s voice is strained.
“You said that three weeks ago. It’s okay if you’re not ready yet, but don’t lie to me.”
“No, I’ll tell them. I mean it. Now come here.” With firm hands he pulls me in and kisses me. I love it when he takes what he wants. If it were up to me, he’d do it much more often. I like calling the shots in the bedroom, but this feels pretty good too.
Slenderfingers grab my T-shirt, fiddle with my jeans button and I know why he’s doing this. David is afraid. Afraid of what his family is going to say when they find out he’s gay, that he has a boyfriend. Sex distracts him. Giving himself to me distracts him. These are the few moments when he can really let go. The few moments when his mind is completely free and he belongs entirely to me.
“Take me. Please. I need you.” He looks at me with his big green eyes, pleadingly and urgently, brushing his rock-hard cock over mine and I hiss sharply.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
David quickly shakes his head, his dark blond hair flying in all directions and then falling onto his forehead.
“Ah, you came prepared, that’s nice.” A devilish grin plays around my lips, and his head falls back with a moan as I roughly grab his crotch. “Get undressed, I’ll get some lube.”
Minutes later, my first finger slides into him without resistance, making him writhe beneath me as the second brushes prostate. His hands grip his thighs so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Fuck, he’s trying so hard to be quiet, even with my third finger up his ass. But all his restraint slips when my cock pushes through his first ring of muscle. A loud cry echoes through my room, one that can definitely be heard throughout the entire floor.Sorry, Jannis, I think with a grin, pulling out almost completely only to thrust back even harder to tease another pretty sound out of my otherwise so controlled and composed boyfriend.
I fall into a fast rhythm, barely giving David time to breathe. He’s a whimpering mess, screaming and moaning, and my God, he’s beautiful when he submits to me like this. His eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed, his large, muscular body reacting to every little touch. My fingers glide over hisnipples, pinch them firmly, and I am rewarded when his ass clamps tightly around my cock for a breathtaking heartbeat.
If I keep up this rhythm, I won’t need long. Determined, I reach between David’s legs, my hand wrapping around his length, and now it’s him sharply sucking in air as if there weren’t enough. I feel his hole fluttering around me, and I lose myself in his body. It’s just him and me and our connection, and I increase my speed once more.
“Oh, fuck. Ahh.” David’s hands grab the sheets underneath him and cling to them as if they were the only thing keeping him in the here and now.
“Let go, baby. Come for me.” I lean forward, whispering the words softly into his chin, kissing his chest.
“Not yet... too good... keep going...” David shakes his head vehemently, his face contorted in agony, and yet he has never been more beautiful than right now, in this moment. Blotchy and red with lust and arousal, and with so much love in his eyes that I know his heart is mine to keep.
I sit up again, searching for balance by gripping his legs, feeling his fine hair in my palm. A feeling I’ve loved from the very beginning.
David groans and reaches for his cock, and a smile flits across my face. Relief spreads across his as he comes. His eyelids twitch, his eyes roll back, he bites his lower lip, and with a sharp cry, his cum spurts all over his chest. His ass tightens, pulsing, holding me tight, sucking me into him, enough to take me with him and sending endorphins through my body in a rush. With the last twitch, I pull out and let myself fall on top of him. I slide up so far that our noses touch and his breath lingers on my lips.
David is almost six inches taller than me, so depending on the position I can’t always kiss him during sex, that’s why I have to make up for it now. My lips catch his in gentle slowkisses, coming down together from the high we just shared. I love this moment.
“I love you. So much.”
***
23 years
That was the last time he said those words to me. I can still feel his lips on mine, even after five years and countless kisses with other men. I can still smell him. And I still can’t believe what happened after that night. We were inseparable for almost two years, had all our firsts together, and I trusted him with my life. How could he do that to me? I get that it was harder for him to come out than it was for me since I have two gay fathers. What else could my father’s say other than they support us. They live out in the open, so there is no reason we can’t.
For all of the almost two years we were only open at my house. That wasn’t perfect, but it was okay. He wanted to come out, I didn’t push him to do it. It was his damn idea. And then came the day that changed everything. “I can’t do this. Please. Please, let me go. Please, if you love me, let me go and leave me alone. Please.” His voice was choked with tears.
And that’s what I did. What else could I’ve done? That was five years ago today. For five fucking years, I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong, if I could’ve done something differently, if it was my fault, but it’s useless. I’m never going to get the answers I need. With a loud thud, my head falls onto the desk in front of me.
A knock pulls meout of my thoughts a short time later, and I see my father’s freckles and graying curls in the doorway. “Hey, Paps, come in.”
People always think I got my curls from him, but that’s not true. My curls, my eyes, a stuffed dinosaur and a few photos are all I have left from my mother. The only things that remained after my biological father beat her dead in a drunken rage. I was eight at the time and I was hurt too, which is why I can’t remember the attack. But I can still remember the pain that shot through my chest when I woke up in the hospital and realized she wasn’t coming back. When I felt the finality of death.
And then fear washed over me. What would happen to me? Would I be sent to a group home? My father always threatened us with that when my mother wanted to leave him. That he would make sure I had to go to a group home. “Foster families don’t want older kids,” he always said.
