Chapter 12

Twelve

"Move in with us."

They were spooning in bed, Titus on the outside, Pedro snug in his arms. Pedro had often wondered if sleeping soundly this way, so entwined, was possible. Over the past two months, he'd discovered it not only possible but that it aided his sleep. Nights away from Titus, in his lonely room at the Hawthorne House, sleep was much more difficult. He wondered if Titus was experiencing the same.

"Mm. What time is it?" he asked.

"Four-thirty."

Pedro groaned. "Why are you up? We have at least an hour and a half."

"I don't want to sleep," Titus whispered warmly in his ear. "When you're here, I don't want to miss any of it. I can sleep later."

"Do you not sleep well when I'm here?"

"I didn't say I can't sleep. I said I don't wanna."

Titus's thick arms constricted, squeezing Pedro tighter. He felt the smoothness of Titus's chest pressed to his back, the warmth of his groin against his bottom, the scruff of his chin on his shoulder. His smell and his heat enveloping, swaddling, lulling Pedro back toward slumber's grasp.

"Did you hear me? I want you to move in with us."

Pedro's eyes fluttered open again. The moon was bright outside, shimmering through the sheers of Titus's bedroom window. He felt Titus's cock swelling, snaking naturally into the crevice of his ass and nestling there like a bratwurst in a bun. The lure of sleep had been tempting, but Titus's pull was far stronger.

"I heard you," Pedro answered. "I'm just–I'm not sure."

"I've never been more sure about anything. I don't want to be in this bed again without you."

"From what I'm feeling down there right now, it's less about me moving in with you and more about you moving into me."

"Mm." Titus grunted, crushing their body's tighter, grinding his pelvis forward. "Always. But right now, I just want to hold you. Pretend you're not gonna to get up and leave me in two hours and that I won't see you again until tomorrow night. I just want to hold you and keep you here forever."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I don't care. Be happily ever after with me, P."

"Like in a fairy tale?"

"Yes. I'll be your Prince Charming?"

"Wait. Why do you get to be the prince?"

"Um, I–uh," Titus stammered.

Pedro chortled. "Relax, big guy. I'm just teasing."

"You can be the prince if you want–or the king even. I'll be your carpet, your throne, your carriage–hell, I'll be your goddamn horse. You can ride me hard every day, put me away wet."

"We already do that."

"Not every day–" Titus squeezed him again. "But we could."

Pedro relaxed deeper, tilting his head back as Titus nuzzled his neck. "I must admit that first night, I felt a lot like Cinderella."

"No more roles." Titus murmured, burrowing his face into Pedro's hair, whispering warmly into his ear. "Stereotypes, whatever. Can't we just be a family–you, me, and Tucker? Is that too much to ask?"

"No. It is a little fast, though. You sound more like Beast than Prince Charming, looking to secret me away in your castle."

"Tucker loves that movie."

"Tucker has good taste."

"I wanna be your beast, P. Let me take care of you. Be my beautiful Belle."

"I thought we weren't assigning roles here."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"How quickly he forgets."

"I mean it. I've waited a long time to find someone like you. If anyone tries to separate us, I'll tear them apart."

"That worries me a little."

"I can't help it. In that regard, I guess I am Big Britches."

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on a little."

"I have good taste too, you know?"

"You do. You also taste good."

Pedro found Titus's hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around the middle finger and sucking on it.

"You start that–" Titus said, "–and you know where this is going."

Pedro opened his mouth. "Yes, I do," he said, guiding Titus's wet finger down between his legs. "Now, let's test the temperature down there."

Titus found Pedro's entrance, the moisture on his finger revitalizing the lubricant there from earlier. Pedro shifted, pressing back, and Titus's finger slipped in, easy as pie.

"Ah," Pedro moaned, a breathy, sustained utterance. "Hazme el amor de nuevo."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Titus asked.

"Yes, it does. Giddy-up."

The sex was rougher, more intense than before. Pedro was not only growing accustomed to this, but discovering a new appetite for it. With their initial lovemaking, Titus was always gentle, almost timid. It was good but felt more like foreplay. Pedro attributed the tender approach to their substantial size difference, sensing Titus may fear hurting him. But on second rounds, in the dark like now, reigniting their lovemaking, Titus was always far less inhibited. It pleased Pedro beyond words.

The trust between them had begun early on and organically, so much so that they had never used a condom. Titus had been abstinent since Violet's diagnosis, and she'd been the only person he'd ever had sex with. Pedro hadn't been with anyone since arriving in the States, when he'd been subject to multiple immigration vaccinations and STD screenings. The two men may have had vastly different backgrounds, but both had returned to the comforts of solo satisfaction in their times of transition.

Their appetites were healthy, to say the least.

Titus entered Pedro as easily as his finger, only there was so much more of him–thicker, stretching wider, probing deeper, filling Pedro with an almost profound sense of satisfaction, like gaining an appendage he never knew was absent.

Titus pulled him closer, interlocking their bodies like the pieces of a flesh puzzle. He reached around and grabbed Pedro's cock, tugging and stroking it.

"My God. You always feel so incredible," Titus said. "It's like–I don't know–a religious experience."

"Let's go with spiritual awakening."

"Yeah. No." Titus purred, nibbling on Pedro's neck and shoulder. "A carnal awakening."

"Even better, but stop." Pedro removed Titus's hand from his cock. "You're gonna make me come. Roll with me."

He reached around and rolled them both, pulling Titus on top of him. He was now face down with Titus's full weight, pressing him into the mattress.

"Wait. I don't want to hurt you."

Pedro pushed up with surprising strength and Titus, yielding to the move, did the same, never once breaking their connection. Titus began a slow grind from behind, squeezing at Pedro's ass cheeks, prying them apart more, like the segments of a tangerine. Pedro met each of Titus's deep plunges with a reverse thrust of his own.

"You won't," Pedro answered. "Está bien. Ahora, fóllame como a un animal."

He chose the words strategically, hoping Titus would pick up on at least two of them. But Titus was too pleased with the position switch to acknowledge. His speed and rhythm increased, driving harder into Pedro, instinctively understanding the request.

They kept this going until Pedro sensed Titus was near climax. He lifted, straightening. Titus rose with him. Pedro reached over his head, curling his fingers at the damp hair at Titus's neck. Titus wrapped his arms around Pedro's mid-section, still grinding, but slower. They were once again spoons, only on their knees and vertical. Titus's hand crept down Pedro's belly.

Pedro stayed it. "Not yet. I want you deeper."

Titus gave a breathy chuckle. "I don't know if that's possible."

"It is." Pedro dismounted, turned, and lay on his back. He lifted his right leg with the ease of a dancer, placing it on Titus's chest for support. Titus shifted slightly, straddling Pedro's other leg, pressing him wider.

"You're sure?" Titus asked.

"I've never been more sure about anything." Pedro said, echoing Titus's previous words and guiding him back in. "Hazme correrme de esta manera."

"What does that mean?"

Pedro reached for Titus's hands, interlacing his fingers and pulling him down. "It means make me come this way."

Gravity assisted as Titus pressed forward into a push-up position. Pedro's foot glided up Titus's chest and past his shoulder, forcing him into an upright split. Titus pinned Pedro to the mattress, spreading his arms wide as well. Pedro grunted.

"I'm gonna stop."

"No. Please don't. Harder. Like before."

Pedro's legs and arms were fixed, so he used the only muscle he had complete control of. He squeezed Titus's cock tight, watching his hovering lover's eyes roll white as he did so. The grind resumed, Titus working toward his previous momentum. They were both sweating now, groins crashing closer, scissored and interlocking. Pedro almost felt as if they were merged, Titus's low hangers meshing with his own, the flesh down there hot, moist, uniform.

"Oh, God. I'm gonna come," Titus said, relentlessly pounding now. "I'm gonna fill you up."

"Yes, YES. I want it. I want it all. Give it to me Big T."

Titus seized and, for a brief second, Pedro felt him even more deeply. Then came the warmth, exploding inside him like a supernova, flooding him with sweet heat. He came too, reflexively, hot torrents spilling over his stomach and down his left hip. Whether Titus knew this yet was uncertain, as he was caught in his own repetitive spasm, chanting "fuckyeah, fuckyeah, fuckyeah," with every thrust, pounding Pedro into oblivion while he finished unloading.

So good , Pedro thought. So good.

Their movement inevitably tapered. Titus, panting, leaned in for a kiss, spreading Pedro just a tad more. "You bring out the beast in me," he whispered.

Perfect .

In the shower, Titus broached the subject again.

"Move in with us," he said. "Please?"

Pedro turned to face him, suds trailing down his chest from where Titus had been washing him. "You almost had me. The please kinda threw things off."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't, and that's part of it."

"Tell me then. I'll do whatever."

"Turn around. Let me wash your back." Titus complied, handing Pedro the soapy loofah. "First, so you know, my heart is saying yes. Absolutely. Do it. Move in with this wonderful man you've met and start a life together."

Titus turned back. "Then listen to your heart."

Pedro said nothing, scolding Titus silently with his eyes.

Titus lowered his gaze and faced away again.

Pedro reached up, squeezed the sponge, and began circling it between Titus's shoulder blades. "My head is saying it's too soon. I'm a stranger here. Not with you, though. Our bond may be fresh, but it's real. I know that. Outside of my family, I've never felt connected to anyone as strongly as I have to you. It's the situation that's the conflict. You're coming out of a closet that I've returned to–temporarily, anyway. I'm a gay Mexican in a foreign land–the southeastern United States, mind you–a place historically known for intolerance."

"It's not just the South, P. It's everywhere."

Pedro pinched Titus's ass.

"Ow!"

"Let me finish."

"OK, OK."

"I feel like I need a foundation of some kind–legal footing to protect me before I can ever be my true self in this country."

"It's not fair, P… to you or me. Or Tucker."

"No. It's not. But it's reality."

"How long would something like that take?"

"Naturalization? Years. Most of my worries hinge on that–Silas's sponsorship, job security, residency, taxes… Tenure, so to speak."

Titus turned to him again. "I can give you all that. You don't have to work for him. You can live here and work at my printing company. I've never sponsored an immigrant, but I'm sure I could figure out how. Or is that–?"

"A conflict of interest? I don't think so, but—" Pedro placed his hand on Titus's chest. "I need to be outside, T. I know it sounds ridiculous. It's a mental welfare kind of thing."

"I get it. I'm a recluse, remember? It's too bad I can't marry you."

"You would do that?"

"To keep you here? In a heartbeat."

"That's very sweet."

Titus pulled Pedro close and kissed him. "You make me feel so alive again," he said. "So happy, so horny –I just want you around 24/7."

"I'll consider it. I just need some time, OK?"

Titus sighed with mock exaggeration. "OK. It'll give me some time too–to think things through. I'm pretty good at problem-solving, you know?"

Out of the shower and drying off, Pedro said, "There's Barb too."

"What about her?"

"I'm her only tenant. If I move in with you, I'll be taking away what I assume is most of her income."

"What about the Historical Society? I thought she got money there."

"She despises them. They won't help her with Hawthorne House unless she submits to their demands."

Titus chuckled. "That'll never happen. Barb won't kowtow to anyone that way."

"No. Especially with them wanting the design aesthetic to be historically accurate, complete with Confederate flags, weapons displays, and ugly, uncomfortable furniture. Other than her living quarters, no modern conveniences allowed. They want to turn it into a museum."

"How can they do that? She owns the house. She lives there for God's sake."

"They can't," Pedro said, hanging his towel over the shower door. "But they can dangle funds in front of her like a carrot. Hawthorne House is a massive expense. Until Barb can get more tenants, she may end up being at their mercy."

"Well, that pisses me off."

"Yeah. Me too."

"It also explains some things, like why she so gung-ho on me following in Daddy's footsteps. I guess maybe she thinks I could pull some strings somehow."

"You said you were a good problem solver."

"I am, but–"

"But it may mean using your status and influence to make change."

"Big Britches."

Pedro lifted a hand to Titus's cheek, caressing. "I know you struggle with other people's perceptions of you. But you changed them, remember? You told me you proved yourself to those doubting your abilities. Why can't you do it again?"

"Now you sound like her."

"I'm just saying."

"I can't imagine myself being in charge of a small town."

"I can't imagine being a US citizen. Doesn't stop me from trying, though."

"That's good football mentality. I'll consider it–" Titus said, then added, "–I just need some time, OK?"

"My words from before."

Titus grinned. "I may be a big lug, but I pay attention. I also picked up your wanting me to be more dominant in the sack. Using that Spanish dirty-talk to lead me on."

"You won't hurt me, Titus. I can take it."

"Can you do what we did with the opposite leg… maybe on the corner of the bed with me standing?"

"Most definitely."

"Tucker won't be up for at least half an hour."

"Entonces fóllame otra vez, gran oso."