42. Fischer

42

FISCHER

M atthew's at my apartment when I come home with Vaughn. Because I can't carry him and walk with a cane, the poor kid has to walk, nearly dead on his feet. He brightens slightly when he sees Matty, but then quickly fades again. This Wednesday evening arrangement works great for everyone except for the two people it's meant for—me and Vaughn.

Nicole gets a night off. Maggie and Stuart, and often Dick and Donna, get to spend time with my kid, but I get to tuck him in, feed him breakfast and send him back to his mother's.

It's a little ridiculous, but I've been so absent from his life, I'm not about to rock the boat of the custody arrangement. Nicole's been more than accommodating. Still, I'm assuming this is what Matthew meant by logistics. I'm willing to spend every spare second I have living with Matthew, but when I've got Vaughn, it's best that we're here where he has his own room and the park nearby. And, of course, Maggie and Stuart.

This must be what Vaughn feels like—living two separate lives.

Would life be easier if Matthew could live in Manhattan? Sure. The Bronx isn't exactly convenient.

But I love his loft. More importantly, I love him . And we do need to be together. Sharing his calendar isn't enough. We need each other. This is who we've always been.

Is it crazy?

It's fucking unhinged, and I'm thrilled.

Matthew takes Vaughn and whisks him into bed before I take my turn. "Is Uncle Matty sleeping over?" he asks with a big yawn.

I tuck the covers around him tight, the way he likes. "Maybe. Is that okay?"

"Does he snore?"

I grin. "What do you know about snoring? Who snores?"

"Hunter snores. Loud."

"No, Matty doesn't snore."

"Then he can stay." Vaughn turns to his side and slides his hands beneath his cheeks, his eyes closed.

I drop a kiss on his forehead and turn off the lamp. "Love you, bud. Good night."

"Love you, Dad. See you later."

After one more kiss where I inhale a lungful of his scent, I take my cane and stand. Leaving the door cracked, I return to the living room where I find Matthew on the couch with the TV on. I join him. He pulls me into his arms, and I get comfortable on my side against his chest. "Let's figure this out," I say.

"Where do you want to start?"

"Vaughn."

Matthew tightens an arm around my waist. "Yeah, I guess it's better when you have him that we're here."

We . I close my eyes, loving the sound of that.

"I should talk to Maggie," he says.

I rub his chest, soaking in his warmth. "You think she's gonna freak out?"

"I hope she can be happy for us. But yeah, she might. I'm not exactly known for keeping secrets like this."

"To be fair, it's not like we've been sleeping together for years or anything," I say. "It's new-ish news. I'm slightly more concerned about Dick and Donna. They don't even know I'm bi."

"If you want to save telling them for later, I totally get it. And we can wait on Maggie, too?—"

"No, I don't mind her knowing," I tell him. "She's important to you."

"Do you think maybe with Vaughn we should talk to a professional?" he asks. "Maybe see whether it's better explain it to him sooner or later?"

"I could ask Nicole what she thinks."

Matthew runs his fingers through my hair in the way that soothes and lightly hypnotizes me. "You probably need her permission for something like that, huh?"

"Probably," I say, my eyes closing briefly.

"I should get you to bed, too," he says. "Tuck you in."

I grin. "I'm not actually that tired. Just comfortable."

"You hungry?"

"They fed me at work."

"What do you need me for, then?"

"You make an amazing pillow. How are you ever gonna get anything done if I move in with you?" I ask.

"You won't be there all the time," he says, sounding annoyed.

"Would you like to be home more often?" I ask.

"Wouldn't we all?"

"I just mean you don't have to work so much. I make plenty of money."

"Mmm…" He gives me a tight squeeze. "Keep talking, sugar daddy."

I grin. "Just think about it."

"I'd have time for more projects. Matter of fact, I found a crystal online today," he says into my ear. "Rose quartz—it's exactly big enough to chisel a perfect replica of your cock. I might be obsessed."

"A crystal cock?"

" Your crystal cock," he says, taking a moment to kiss my neck.

I inhale shakily. "And this will be displayed where?"

"Oh, it'd be strictly for personal use."

I'm glad he can't see my face because I can't hide my shock or my sudden unease. "Personal…?"

"Self-care," he says. "Since you won't be home twenty-four-seven."

"But…" If there's something he needs that I'm not giving him, I want to know. "Do you need me to?—"

"Mm…no." He kisses my neck harder, sucking the thin skin between his teeth and ending with a bite that makes me grunt. "I just think it'll feel good when I jerk off."

"Then—"

"I like you exactly how you are, princess."

"Because I can?—"

"I'm sure you can. But I don't need that."

"Again—should that be hurting my feelings?" Because it is.

"No," he insists.

"I don't want you going to someone else if?—"

He turns my head and looks me in the eyes, effectively cutting me off. "You don't get it."

I shake my head.

"Having you is everything ," he says emphatically.

I still don't get it. "Then why a crystal cock?"

He gives his head a quick shake like he's resetting the conversation. "I bottom when I want to disappear. I never want to disappear with you. I do it when I don't give a fuck who I'm with. When I need the noise to drown myself out. But I am insanely in love with you. I want to tattoo you on my soul."

Suddenly, I can't make myself breathe. I barely remember how.

"I'm yours," he goes on, his other hand moving on my chest more firmly, more dominant, heading downward. "There is no one else. As long as you're here, there never will be."

"How can you say that?"

"I just can. I just know. It's just you. It's always been you. This was never about the nightmares."

"Matthew…" I can't speak. I'm not sure why I'm trying. I turn to kiss him, clinging to the back of his neck as his tongue takes over my mouth.

I wonder how I ever tolerated any less than this. Was I na?ve? Or was I deliberately blocking out all this deeper need I have for him? Convincing myself that I could subsist on him in small doses.

It's clearer by the day that I was in profound denial. How I went so long without him is beyond my understanding. He might have a dirty mind, but he has the most beautiful heart. And I am so lucky someone else didn't steal it while I was off chasing some prize that wouldn't have meant half as much to me as a single moment like this.

Mindlessly his hand runs up and down my outer thigh. The wool slacks I haven't changed out of yet. "Unbuckle these," he tells me.

As I reach for my fly, a little voice coming from behind the couch startles me so much, I nearly fall off the couch.

"Can I watch, too?"

Matthew and I perform a mad scramble of untangling ourselves and sitting up. As soon as his arms are free, he reaches behind the sofa, lifts Vaughn off the floor, and brings him onto the cushion between us. I toss him a throw pillow and he puts it on his lap while Vaughn tucks his feet beneath him and stares sleepily at the screen.

"Can't sleep, buddy?" I ask, out of breath.

"No." He scowls at the non cartoon characters on TV. "What is this?"

"Grown up show," Matty says.

"Can we watch Coco ?"

In terms of movies my kid could get stuck on, Coco is great. I like it. However, I've seen it seven times this month.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Matthew asks.

Vaughn looks up at him. "I'm thirsty."

"Why can't you sleep?"

"I heard the TV," Vaughn says.

I rub his messy blonde hair. "Sorry, bud. We'll keep it down. Want me to tuck you in again?" My erection is long gone, but my son is difficult enough to get going in the morning without having him stay up late. It's time everyone went to bed.

Ignoring me, he turns to Matty. "Are you sleeping over?"

"Yeah. It's almost my bedtime, too."

"What time is your bedtime?" Vaughn asks.

"Eleven."

"Wow. Can we watch Coco until your bedtime?"

Matthew glances over at me. I shrug, giving up. "Sure," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be in the morning."

"My mom picks me up early."

"We better get started then."

"Were you and Dad kissing?" he asks.

My eyes blow wide, but Matthew says smoothly, "We were hugging and giving kisses," he says. "You like to give kisses, I've noticed."

"Twenty kisses," Vaughn says. "It means I love you."

"Is that what that means? Maybe I should start counting."

Vaughn giggles. My favorite sound.

"What does ten kisses mean?" Matthew asks.

"Probably I'm in a hurry."

That makes us both laugh. Vaughn flashes us his baby-toothed smile. "Dad always tries to make me snuggle with him, too."

"Because I love it," I tell him with a wide grin.

"Snuggle with me," Matthew tells him. "I'm a good snuggler. You'll see." Effectively changing the topic, Matthew grabs the remote, switches from Netflix to Disney, and convinces Vaughn to let him spoon him. I lean back on the opposite arm and pull my phone out of my pocket, trying to force my heart rate to return to normal. What if I'd unbuttoned my pants? Jesus.

Matthew's foot nudges my leg, and what I see when I look up makes me set my phone on the coffee table rather than unlock the screen.

He's rubbing my son's hair, his fingers delicately tracing his forehead and brushing his cheek with the backs of his knuckles. Vaughn's eyes are already shutting, and the movie's barely started. The kid stands no chance in that man's arms. I know from experience.

I lay a hand on Matthew's calf and squeeze. He sends a wink and a smile my way. It's so warm. So familiar and easy, I fall in love with him all over again, but this time feels more like falling off a cliff. Landing on the rocks below, my chest shatters. I am fucking done for.

They called his birth a miracle, and, not for the first time, I'm in complete agreement.