Twenty-Five

TWENTY-FIVE

REN

It isn't until my parents walk in and look at Felton that I realize that maybe I might have unintentionally misled them about what I meant when I said I had a friend staying here over break. They were surprised, especially when it became clear we're not just friends, even though I introduced him as such.

I only did so because we haven't talked about our relationship in greater detail yet. Hell, we've barely touched on the fact that I want him as my own. Felton's lived a life of hurt and self-deprecation. There's no doubt in my mind that he needs me to spell it all out for him. Since we've only just gotten to the point I made it clear that I'm into him, pushing the relationship talk seems a little fast.

However, I know I need to make my intentions clear to my family.

The view on homosexuality in China is ambivalent at best. It's the old ‘don't ask, don't tell' policy that most of the country officially lean toward. What's strange about it is that three-quarters of the population practice what we call Chinese folk religion, which is a broad mix of Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism. Buddhism and Taoism are not in the least bit homophobic. In fact, they lean more toward celibacy than marriage and procreation.

Confucianism, on the other hand, explicitly prohibits same-sex marriage. In all honestly, treatment of LGBTQ people in Chinese history has been ugly as far back as the Moghul Empire when voluntary homosexual acts were punishable by death.

It's made anyone who isn't heteronormative very… miserable.

I've never had to think about it much. My family sent me away in my teens when I wanted to get more serious about hockey. So, most of my life has been focused on hockey. Hook up culture being as big as it is these days defined any kind of relationship I found myself in.

Which is fine, I guess. It's only in recent years when I started group activities with Zenia, Denny, Carson, and Kroy that I truly began to enjoy it. Looking back, I wonder if it's their presence that made it more enjoyable. The femboy we fucked? Yeah, it was really, really good.

Still, I never thought anything of it. It was a fluke. It happened, but we never went out of our way to repeat it. I'm not sure I ever thought about a man until Felton.

If I'm honest, I'm only slightly concerned about what my parents might think. When I realized I might have misconstrued Felton's role in my life, I did other things to make it clear what it was without saying so. I didn't want to put Felton on the spot since he's already so nervous and self-conscious.

My parents are good parents, though. I'm quite confident that even if they don't agree with my choice that they'll support me and treat Felton with respect. After all, I'm not in China. And if it's not safe there for me and my male partner to be together, then I'll stay here. Or we'll go somewhere safer.

Not that I'm getting ahead of myself.

As if they expected me, I find my family sitting at the counter drinking tea. Jin's watching me over the rim of his cup, but I don't miss the smile as he slides me a cup when I join them.

"I didn't intentionally leave out details," I start, and because it's easier to have a conversation with my parents in their native language, I switch to Mandarin. "It's very new and… Felton's been going through some really hard times right now. I didn't think to… uh, share, I guess."

"Is he okay?" my mom asks, and I smile because her first concern is Felton.

"He's… trying. He has a really shitty family." When my father gives me a disapproving look, I shake my head. "No, bà ba. I swear to you, you'd be horrified by the way they treat him. How they speak to him."

Dad frowns. "I see."

"I wanted to help him, to make sure he knows he has support and that he doesn't need to be treated that way, and… I guess I found myself liking him a little differently than I intended to. He's a good man, bà ba. He's kind and strong and sweet."

"He seems very shy," Jin says.

"That's a byproduct of his home life," I explain. "I think he's like that around most parents because he expects them to demean him the way his do."

My father's eyes narrow.

"When I tell you that parents here can be very different from back home, I don't always mean that in a good way," I say. "I can't tell you how many guys I've met who have stories that would horrify you. It's sad. When Felton confided in me, I was sad for him and wanted to make sure he knew he isn't those things and he doesn't deserve to be treated that way."

"And he showed you who he really is," Mom says.

I nod. There's a lot I could tell them. So much more I could say to make my father understand. But I've already said more than I think I should because I need my parents to understand. I need them to accept him because it's going to be a really long week if they can't.

I already know I won't give up on Felton. That man is mine. I'm going to make him mine. Life will be much simpler if my family supports it.

Finally, my father nods. "It's not safe at home for you two," he says.

I sigh. "I know. While I'd love for him to see home… we'll see. It's not to that point yet. I really just wanted to make sure you know I wasn't intentionally keeping something from you. This isn't a secret. It's just very new. Our friendship isn't, that's been growing for a couple months. But this other thing—that's new. Like… days. Maybe only hours."

"Very well," Dad says. "We can talk in the morning. Go to bed."

I incline my head and then kiss my mother's cheek. After grabbing a couple waters, I head back into my bedroom.

Seeing Felton curled up in my bed, I feel this profound sense of home. This is how I want to go to bed every night. To find him with a soft smile on his lips as he falls asleep.

Careful not to wake him, I grab a pair of shorts and head into the bathroom for my own nighttime routine. Seeing his clothes from the day in the basket makes me feel ridiculously happy. It's dirty laundry! Who's happy about that?

Me. The answer is me.

I love this brand-new integration of our lives. Even if it's temporary. Seeing his toothbrush in the cup by the sink—his sink. Seeing the sink wet, having recently been used. A wet washcloth on the bar and a damp hand towel hanging on the hook.

And Felton's clothes that he wore today in the hamper. I refuse to be one of those people who picks up his shirt and smells it. Instead, I very determinedly strip down and toss my clothes on top of his before slipping into the shorts I sleep in.

Felton's eyes flutter open as I climb into bed. I feel better having been honest with my family. Even if Felton says nothing about his family, I think I've said enough that they'll witness themselves how his relationship with his father specifically has shaped him.

He's not confident in anything. His seeking approval isn't a vain need to make people like him. It's an innate need for someone to tell him he's not a fuckup. He's not a disappointment.

"Is everything okay?" Felton asks as I slide closer to him after I turn the light off.

Bringing him into my arms, I smile when he immediately wraps his arms around me. "Yes." There's no need for a further explanation tonight. The LGBTQ climate back home and why I needed to talk to my parents tonight can wait. There's no need to put that kind of worry and pressure on him. "Just saying goodnight to my parents."

"Do they like me?" he whispers.

It breaks my heart to hear the insecurity in his voice.

"Yes," I tell him because I have no reason to think otherwise. "Anyone who knows you likes you. If they don't, they're not really looking at you at all."

Felton sighs. We don't talk again. I wrap myself around him, keeping him as close to me as I possibly can. I don't want even a second to pass where he thinks he's alone. Felton needs to feel me everywhere. He needs to know that no matter what time he opens his eyes, I'm going to be right here.

I've slept with Felton before. But it was a kind of unintentional sleep. When he showed up in the early hours of the morning and we slept on the couch. When I tucked him into the spare room and held him in my arms.

This is very different. None of those were purposeful. Last night was the first night we shared a bed intentionally.

He didn't move at all. When I open my eyes, Felton is still tucked into my chest just how we fell asleep. I think he's awake because I can feel the way his eyelashes move against my skin.

He seems peaceful this morning. It doesn't feel like anything is hanging over his head. There's no residual tension from outside pressures; he's completely relaxed in my arms.

I press my lips to the top of his head and feel his lips curl.

"Morning," I say.

His arms tighten. "Hi," he whispers. I can hear the bashfulness in his tone.

Gently, I push him back a bit so I can see into his face, which means I need to slide down slightly. He's a tall man. If I had to take a guess, he's roughly a foot taller than me. But as I line myself up with him eye to eye, I realize a lot of that height is in his legs.

His dick, hard as fuck, is pressed almost exactly to mine. Which is equally hard. Then again, I think I might have slid down a little more than I intended to make that happen. Felton breathes in and it's shivery. No doubt feeling the same heat that I am right now.

"How did you sleep?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little. I don't want him to feel pressured.

"I haven't slept that good in a long time," he tells me. "You held me all night."

I swear, I hear wonder in his voice. Disbelief.

Sighing, I press my mouth to his. "Of course, I did. I really love how you fit against me."

Felton shivers. "Me too, Ren."

"Want to take a shower with me?"

Heat flares in his eyes and he nods. If I have to take a guess, he doesn't have an issue with sex questions and telling me what he wants there. Based on our previous conversations regarding sex, it's the one area of his life he's confident in. The one place his father hasn't made him feel like shit.

I'm thankful because this isn't an area where I can just make decisions for him. Not until we're much further along in our relationship and create boundaries.

Pressing my mouth to his again, I throw the covers off and slide to the edge of the bed, pulling him with me. He's all smiles this morning, which makes me grin.

"Teeth," I tell him as we step into the bathroom, and I flick on the water. While it heats, I join him at the sinks to brush mine. Then we're stripping from our bottoms and tossing them aside to step into the water together.

Asking him to take a shower with me wasn't a direct sex question, but neither of us are na?ve. We're hard as fuck, attracted to each other, and I think maybe we're both ready for a little bit of touch.

Maybe.

I truly attempt to wash us first. With the bar of soap in hand, I spread it along his torso as his hands feather over my arms and back. We step closer, far too close to wash properly, but finally close enough that our dicks can touch.

Kind of. Like this, he's all legs and definitely taller than me.

Reaching up, I grip his hair and pull his mouth down to mine. It's awkward as we kiss and try to arrange ourselves so we can still rub our cocks together. We end up with his legs spread, the outside edges pressed against the shortest sides of the shower, which brings him closer to my height.

It's the perfect height to jerk ourselves while keeping our cocks rubbing. Poking. Touching. Soap makes the movements slick, while the water running over our faces makes our kisses sloppy and wet.

I step in closer, so close that my hand is alongside his as we jerk ourselves. His cock is big. So big. I'm slightly mesmerized to see it hard next to mine. To feel his hand move over it. To feel it against my skin when our hands fall out of sync.

"Are you always a bottom?" I ask, breathless.

Felton groans. "Yeah, but mostly because most of the men I get together with end up being intimidated by my size."

"But you'd like to top?" I ask.

He shrugs and nods. "Maybe sometimes? I do love bottoming. That's definitely not a lie."

I grin, scraping my teeth along his jaw. "I've seen how much you like to bottom, Fel."

He shivers, turning his face into my cheek, and nods. "I can't believe you saw me like that." He grunts, his hips rolling forward. "I can't believe you made that happen. For me."

"I think there are a lot of things I'd do for you, qīn ài de."

"That's a different word, right?" he asks breathlessly. "What's it mean?"

"Beloved. Lover. Depending on context."

His hand on my back moves down and grips my ass, hauling me closer. "I want to get off," he whispers. "Lover."

I grin, nodding. "Get off with me, Felton."

There's nothing elegant or sexy about the next several minutes as we rut against each other in the shower. Kissing, nipping, biting, licking. Our hands don't stop moving. It would likely have been a little more efficient if we'd let one or the other take charge. I think we both want to touch each other, but are a little too cautious to do so.

We come within strokes of each other, and while this might be one of the least sensual moments, it's probably one of the most enjoyable. Because it's Felton. Listening to him come with me, knowing it's just the two of us, makes everything inside me blaze with fire. I'm the only one touching him right now.

I'm hoping to keep it that way for a long time. For forever.