31. Dylan

CHAPTER 31

DYLAN

Playing piano hurt my shoulder, but there was no way I would ever tell Alex that.

He wouldn’t let me near a guitar until I had explicit clearance from my physical therapist, which I’d yet to receive. I was still on limited mobility, but I didn’t have to wear the sling anymore, which was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Every day I woke up feeling a little more like myself… and a lot less like myself I’d gotten so used to the kind of attention and care being in a relationship with Alex brought me, but there was no way it could last forever.

Three weeks after the day he bought me the piano, I woke up before him. It was an unwelcome first, especially on a Saturday, and I debated staying in bed but I couldn’t force my eyes to stay closed. Carefully, I slid out from beneath the covers, pulled my cell phone free of the charger, and padded barefoot down to the kitchen. The cast iron was on the stove and there were eggs in the fridge, but it had been weeks since I’d even thought about holding that egg against the wall before ruining it on the spitting hot pan.

Instead, I made myself coffee and collected the newspaper from the porch for Alex. I flipped through the newsprint searching for the crossword, but my finger skittered to a stop when I caught a familiar name in one of the articles.

My father.

I wanted to say it had been ages since I’d thought about him, but that would have been a lie. I thought about my parents every day, thought about the life I used to have and the one I wanted. Thought about the life I had . Since my injury, I’d been living in a constant state of nervous fear while I waited for a call from my dad—or his assistant—about what I knew had to be a massive hospital bill. Every day that passed and the call didn’t come, I felt better, then I felt worse. Did he not care about what happened to me that would have sent me to the hospital and warranted all those tests and that ongoing therapy? If he did care, why would he pay for those bills so freely and not my rent, not my groceries? The mercurial way of his love gave me whiplash, and I hated myself for not knowing which outcome was preferred.

What I truly wanted was a world that didn’t exist. One where my parents were proud of me for breaking free of the mold and choosing to pursue music even though it was risky. My father had made all his wealth from mergers and money management, surely he would appreciate the outcome of a well-managed risk. That couldn’t have been further from the truth, though. So, instead I was on my own until Alex showed up and either ruined—or made—my life.

Propping my elbows on the counter, I rested my head in my hands, digging my fingertips into my temples until it hurt. I wasn’t unhappy with the turn my life had taken. I loved Alex, that was the truth, and if it wasn’t for my dad cutting me off the way he did, I never would have had the opportunity to even meet Alex in the first place. Sure, it was safe to assume with Tate and Brooks our paths would have crossed sooner rather than later, but I didn’t know what that would have looked like for either of us.

Alex had also been at a low point when we met. Like the hands of fate had given up on us both before throwing us together in some kind of last-ditch effort to allow us some shred of happiness. Luckily, he was strong and had grabbed on for dear life, hauling both of us up and out of the pit we’d found ourselves in.

But now…

Now what?

Coffee, first.

I poured a mug for myself and carried it out to the back yard. It was still early, the sun barely pinking the sky, but the air was already thick and warm. I sat down at the table in the back, then I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text Tate.

Hey, I miss you.

Three dots popped up almost immediately, and then a reply.

Tate

I miss you too.

You’re up early.

Brooks is a runner, sometimes I sleep through him leaving. Sometimes I don’t.

Oh.

I realized in that moment, I’d been a horrible friend. I didn’t know anything about the man my best friend had fallen in love with.

How are you? Why are you up so early?

Alex used to get me up early and I’m just used to it now.

Used to?

Did you two break up?

I snorted, the idea of me and Alex breaking up was absurd because the thought of me and him being together in the first place was still something I struggled with. Not because I didn’t want it or trust it, but because, on paper, I didn’t understand it. We worked in private. I didn’t know if that would hold up in the real world, like once my arm was healed and I didn’t need to be taken care of.

Even though I’d gotten used to it.

Even though I wanted it to continue.

No. He just lets me sleep in now.

That’s nice of him.

Was it?

Rolling my head around to crack my neck, I played with the idea of Alex letting me sleep in as being a nice thing. My first thought had been that I’d made him unhappy somehow or that he’d grown bored of me. I hadn’t worried about it when he stopped with the eggs because we’d talked about that, but a couple months in now…was the novelty of me wearing off?

Inside, I heard a toilet flush.

Alex was awake.

Without thinking, I went into the kitchen and poured him some coffee, taking it out to the yard and setting it down at the seat across from mine. I’d left my phone on the open newspaper, my brief distraction from the article about my dad that I hadn’t bothered to read. I flipped the paper to the crossword and folded the section into quarters, tucking the edge under Alex’s coffee, then I went back to my phone.

Can we get together soon?

Tate

I didn’t want to push.

You never cared about pushing before.

It’s different now.

Yeah, it was.

I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and I looked up in time to see Alex shuffle into the kitchen, half-asleep. He had his glasses on, hair sticking up every which way, and he wore nothing more than a pair of gray sweats that were hanging on to his hips for dear life. Unconsciously, I licked my lips, biting the bottom one between my teeth as he came close enough to the door for me to see the dark trail of hair that led down past the waistband.

Alex looked around the kitchen, stare lingering on the coffee pot before drifting toward the cracked-open back door. When he saw me, I set my phone down, chest constricting as he smiled softly at me and headed outside. Like always, my breath caught when he got close, and I blinked up at him…helpless.

“You’re up early,” he said, running his fingers through my hair so gently I almost purred.

“You’re up late,” I corrected. His fingers flexed against my scalp. “I made coffee.”

Alex hummed, easing me off of my seat and onto my knees. It was second nature for me to grab his thighs and rub my cheek against his sleep-hard cock. Shifting, I mouthed his length through the soft material of his sweats, my own dick thickening and pulsing to life.

“Sometimes I worry that you’re not real,” he murmured, petting the back of my head while I tried to get his pajamas wet enough that I could feel the swell of his cockhead through the material.

“I’m real,” I whispered, fingers working their way up to the waistband of his sweats. “Let me show you.”

He nodded and I tugged his sweats down low enough to reveal his erection, which I swallowed into my mouth before he could stop me. Alex groaned, hips pumping forward as I swirled my tongue around his thickness. He was so hot and getting thicker by the second, the taste of cum and lube from the night before still musky against my tongue. Reaching down, I palmed my cock, groaning when the heel of my hand made contact with my shaft.

“Hands, pet,” he warned, and I sighed around his shaft, raising both hands above my head. A twinge of pain raced through my left arm, but not enough to make me lower it back down. It wasn’t any more than if I’d slept on it weird, which was a relief to me considering how it had been a month ago.

He curled his fingers around my wrists. “How’s your shoulder?”

“I’m fine.”

“You winced when you raised your arms.”

“It’s better than before,” I promised, licking the slick tip of his cock.

Alex chuckled, giving me a quick nod of his head to continue. I took him back into my mouth with a low moan, licking down his shaft until I got as much of him into my mouth as would fit.

“I love how you suck me,” Alex said, teasing the fingers of his free hand through my hair. “Love how you get on your knees for me without being told.”

It was a change, that was for sure.

Before, kneeling for Alex had felt like getting down onto broken glass, but now…it felt more like home. There was comfort and safety on my knees, protection in the trust I had for him. On my own, I’d come so far since the first time he and I had been together. There was still so much about the things he liked and did that I didn’t understand, but sometimes I wondered if I needed to understand. Would it be so bad for me to leave the why of it to him and just take what he decided I needed?

It was the loud voice in the back of my head that sounded like my father that always brought me back around and made me question everything. Why was it okay for Alex to control my life and make decisions for me, but not my dad? Why did I let Alex treat me the way he did without arguing? To a normal person, an average person, things between me and Alex could look like abuse, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Even if I didn’t understand it, our relationship was love.

And that was all.

“Dylan,” he grunted my name, burying himself into the deepest part of my throat and cradling the back of my head with a steady hand. With my mouth wide and my jaw aching, I blinked up at him through teary eyes. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, and I didn’t care.

I didn’t want to do any of those things.

All I wanted was to love Alex, and be loved in return.

Alex’s hips bucked forward, and he let go of my head, using his hold on my wrists to pull away enough to get his cock out of my mouth.

“Stick out your tongue,” he said, barely getting the words out before the first jet of cum shot out of his dick. His orgasm sprayed across my lip before he redirected the rest of it onto the waiting flat of my tongue. Cursing under his breath as his cum pooled in my mouth, Alex shot the rest of his load, entire body shivering with the last pull. I opened my eyes, blinking up at him. My own cock was so hard it hurt, throbbing with far more need than my shoulder ever had.

Alex sank to his knees in front of me, grabbing my face with both hands. His cheeks were flushed beneath the day-old stubble, pupils wide and dark behind his glasses. His mouth was half open, lips slick with spit. Drool slid from the corner of my mouth, and I moaned, lashes fluttering. Alex leaned in and licked up the spit that had escaped down my chin, then he slanted our mouths together and kissed his cum right off my tongue.

It was the sexiest thing I think he’d ever done, and I trembled, opening my mouth wider for him. Alex licked past my lips and scooped up all of his release, swirling it around with his spit before letting it spread back into my mouth. The flavor of him exploded on my taste buds, and I grabbed his wrists to make sure he didn’t take his hands away from my face. Deepening the kiss, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him entirely.

It was different, I realized, because it was love at the heart of Alex’s control, not possession, at least not in the way it was with my dad. Alex wanted to possess me, and he did, but it was to treasure and spoil, not to demean and diminish. From the very first time, he’d always had my best interests at heart, maybe even before his own. That was why he’d sent me away, why he’d made the choices for us that he had.

With that in mind, instead of asking for my own release when he ended the kiss, I pressed my lips together and smiled at him softly. I was just as drunk as if he’d let me come, the release secondary to everything else that happened between us.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he said, helping me to my feet. He tucked his softening cock back into his pajamas, ignoring mine entirely save for a single passing glance at the bulge between my legs.

“I got your crossword too,” I mumbled hoarsely.

Alex settled me back into my chair, coffee and cellphone with unread messages from Tate still waiting for me.

“I know you did, Dylan.” He walked around the table and sat down, clicking open his pen and looking down at his crossword. I don’t know if I expected him to say something else or not, to thank me, but the corner of his lip twitched into a ghost of a pleased smile… and that was more than enough.