Family Man (22 page)

That had been me.

God. Groaning, I pulled his face down to mine and kissed him hard, tasting myself. “Take off your clothes,” I whispered into his mouth.

“I will.” He kissed me deep and long, stroking my sides. “Let’s move to the bed.”

I was wobbly legged when I tried to stand, so he led me to his room and helped me onto the bed. I lay against his pillows and watched as he stripped out of first his shirt and then his jeans. He was gorgeous and olive-skinned all over, with beautiful pectorals and strong arms and legs dark with hair. He was self-conscious of his abdomen, I knew, but I loved that too. He wasn’t washboard, no, but he wasn’t anything to sneeze at. I wanted to lick him up and down and show him how much I liked his body.

He reached for his briefs, and all my attention became fixed there.

His cock was only half-hard as it came into view, dark and thick and rough with hair. I wanted to touch it more than anything, to feel it hot and slick in my hand, to smell it, heady and musty and wonderful. Vinnie. Vinnie’s cock.

Mine. My cock. My first.

I was a sentimental, foolish sap, but as I stared at him, watching him fill out at the sight of me, I wanted him to be my only.

When he came onto the bed, he lay beside me, close but giving me room to touch, to play, to explore. I did. I ran my hands all over him, touching his shoulders, his nipples, his belly, his thighs. I took firm hold of his ass and squeezed, feeling my cock swell at his groan.

I put my hand against his balls. He shut his eyes, trembling.

I slid my hand higher and closed my grip around his length. I began to stroke. And stroke. And stroke.

My hand stuttered, though, and he stayed my wrist. “Lube is in the drawer behind you,” he told me. After kissing him, I rolled away to find it.

I did find it in the drawer. I found something else too.

I lingered a moment, taking in the dildo beside the hefty bottle of lubricant. I remembered what he’d confessed when he’d been drunk.
I want you to fuck me.
And the porn.
That’s what I want you to do to me.
The memory made my blood run hotter. I turned around with the lube in my hand and met his gaze.

He knew I’d seen it. I was pretty sure he’d meant me to.

“Anything you want,” he said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. Just the thought of what all that entailed made me whimper.

God, I was so turned on.

I pushed him onto his back without a word and squeezed a generous amount of lubricant into my hand. I’d thought to blow him, but I didn’t want to taste the lube, and anyway, I was pretty sure we were heading into different territory now.

When my slicked-up hand closed over him, he groaned, and the sound fueled me, made me pump him hard and fast right away. I’d never given another man a hand job, but outside of the angle, it wasn’t something I hadn’t done a million times in my life, and especially as Vinnie seemed to like it so much, I didn’t hold anything back. The only problem was that I needed ten pairs of eyes—one to watch his face as it twisted into pleasure, one to watch his pecs as his nipples tightened into hard buds of arousal, one to watch his cock slipping in and out of my hand, one to watch his hips as he thrust them with abandon into my grip.

One set of eyes to watch his balls flap, one to watch his legs parting, letting his hole come into my view.

I want you to fuck me.

I wasn’t going to fuck him today. Nobody was going to fuck anyone today, but there was another milestone I wanted to cross now.

I shifted, taking his cock in my other hand, and moved my slicked-up fingers down to his balls. I massaged them, my own cock pulsing through its weariness as I heard him moan, watched him pull his knees way up, opening himself all the way for me.

I reached lower to circle his entrance, and Vinnie grunted and flexed against my touch.

My whole body aching in want, pulsing with heady power, I pushed the tip of my index finger inside.

I went dizzy again at the rough grunt-sigh he gave as I breached him, and my cock forgot how sore it was as it swelled back to full mast, so turned on by the sight of my finger sliding inside him.
Inside Vinnie.
It felt like a reversal, a flip of what I’d expected my first time to be, but I loved it all the more for that. I loved
him
for it. He wasn’t some older, experienced man teaching me the ways of sex. He was Vinnie, exploring sex with me. Letting go, trying new things.

Letting me finger his asshole. I whimpered, biting my lip as I pressed deeper inside, feeling his heat all around me, burning me, spurring me on. Feeling him quake at my invasion. Feeling him let me in, encouraging me.

My finger reached its hilt. I held there a moment, savoring. Then, slowly, I started to move.

He grunted again and pushed against me. His body was so tight around my finger, tighter than I’d ever imagined. I thought of feeling that around my cock, and I moaned. I felt a tiny spurt of precome leak from my tip, ready to go where I was imagining. Someday, that would happen, but for now, I was happy to tease him with my finger, to watch the way he writhed and moaned as I did.

“More,” he whispered, his voice rough. His eyes were shut, his face red, and he pulled his knees to his chest. “
More
.”

I pulled my finger almost all the way out, added a bit more lube, and pushed back in. This time, I used two fingers.

He groaned in real pain this time, but he urged me on, whispering for me to fuck him, please, fuck him. I complied, pushing into him, past the sphincter, deep into his heat. I felt his prostate and tickled it with my fingertips. He swore and bucked against my hand, begging for more.

My cock throbbed now, filling me with power and need like I’d never known. I hadn’t thought about fucking anyone, not until Vin, but now it was all I wanted to do.
Fuck Vin. Fuck Vin. Fuck Vin into his mattress.
I thrust hard, fueled by my desire, and he moaned in answer, taking me in. I thrust over and over again until he growled out for more,
more
, and then I added a third finger, spearing him, spreading him, fucking him with my hand.

He was bucking his hips hard against me. His cock bobbed in front of me, and I fell down on it, taking him into my mouth. The lube was bitter on my tongue for a moment, and then it was gone, washed away by saliva and precome and need. Vin groaned and thrust between my lips as I thrust into him, and I took him eagerly, went into him eagerly.

Mine. My Vincent. My Vinnie.
Mine.

He came with a great, rough shudder, and riding my wave of cockiness, I decided to swallow him down. The first spurt of come shocked me, almost gagging me, but then Vin began to gasp and tremble, and I simply worked my throat to catch it all. When he was done, I slid onto his stomach, weak and spent and proud.

I wasn’t a virgin, not anymore.

Nobody had penetrated anyone with a cock, but that wasn’t what counted to me. We’d come with each other. We’d pleasured each other. We’d been naked together not just physically, but emotionally. We’d allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, and we’d come out of it locked together, gasping in shared pleasure. We’d crossed a line, and now we were on the other side, in a place I hadn’t expected to be. Not like this, at any rate, with Vinnie’s ass clenching and unclenching around my fingers as I traced his still slightly gaping hole, knowing I had stretched him, had been inside him. It was he who quaked and shifted beneath me, needing my kisses and touches of reassurance. He gave them back to me too, both of us lost in reassurances, in wonder.

In love.

I felt like we’d discovered a brand-new country together.

One with acres of land left to explore.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Vince felt like he lived in a dream.

More and more lately he came home from work to find Trey in his house or evidence that he’d been there, and it wasn’t long before they started sleepovers. That first time, he’d taken Trey home, but now Trey stayed more often than he didn’t.

Nobody had penetrated anyone with a cock yet, though Trey had developed a regular habit of fingering Vin, which was fine by him. Part of Vin wanted to leave it at this stage, because he’d been surprised to find out how many gay men never had anal intercourse, giving or receiving. For some the pain was too great, and some simply didn’t care for it. On the one hand it felt like a huge weight off his shoulders.

On the other hand, he’d been looking forward to it quite a bit.

It helped that Trey hadn’t taken his subtle hints that he’d prefer to bottom rather than top but had embraced the idea. He’d worried a lot about that. He knew Trey liked it when he held doors for him and played big bossy Italian boyfriend. Sometimes he thought Trey liked the age difference between them too, though he didn’t think for one minute he’d been cast in the daddy role. Somehow it seemed to go along with everything else, of Trey being “the girl” in bed.

Someone had said that on one of the message boards Vin haunted, and the other guys had jumped all over the poster, telling him that was sexist and heteronormative, a word Vin hadn’t even thought was real. He got where the angry people were coming from, and maybe he did have to work on his thinking. After almost forty years, though, and from an Italian Catholic family? Yeah, there was a girl and a guy in the bed, at least metaphorically.

And fuck if Vin didn’t want to be the girl this time.

One night when he knew Trey wouldn’t be coming over because he had a late shift, a paper and an early morning, Vince went over to Rachel’s place with a pair of cigars—Warlocks, because he’d wanted to splurge—and after relieving her of a great deal of scotch, he confessed his desire to her.

She stared at him for a long time, then took a hit of the scotch right from the bottle. “Holy shit.”

He glared at her before reaching for his cigar. “Nice, sis. You really know how to make a guy feel good.”

“Shut up. It surprised me, all right? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Her voice completely, utterly gave her away. “Bullshit. You think less of me for wanting to bottom.”

“No, I don’t—not less, it’s just not what I’d expect. I mean, maybe if Trey were older, or bigger—”

“
Seriously?
I can’t let anybody fuck me unless they outsize me?”

She winced. “Dammit, no—fucking hell, Vinnie, give me a second to catch up.”

“Well, be sure to let me know when I can get out from under all the goddamned stereotypes. I mean, am I going to have to wait until I’m fifty before I get to be who I really am? Could we maybe get this settled before my dick stops working altogether?”

Rachel pursed her lips. “Will you stop it? I’m on your side.”

She was, and somehow that made it worse. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to live your whole life for other people’s ideals? No you don’t, because you got to pack up and leave. You went off to live your dream, and you’re living it. Sure, they give you hell at family functions, and I’m sure Mom has weekly guilt trips prepared just for you—”

“Try daily.”

“Fine. You get a lot of flack. But once you hang up the phone, you go back to your job and your cool apartment and your frilly nightgowns, everything you ever wanted. Don’t you get it? What I wanted was so off the table I wouldn’t let myself even consider it. For thirty years.”

She threw up her hands. “I know. Vinnie,
I’m on your goddamned side.
”

“But I told you what I wanted with Trey, and you thought less of me for it. You didn’t like it. You decided I wasn’t a man.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Okay, so I had a bad moment. It’s just weird is all.”

“Why? Because I can be gay, but as long as I’m the macho gay, not the gay-gay?”

For several seconds she glared at me, looking pent up and ready to pop. “Yes,” she said at last, deflating a little. “You happy? Yes. Yes, in my mind Fierros are big and strong and manly and tough, and I don’t like the idea of you not being like that, and I’m an ass.” She aimed a finger at him. “But you know, you wouldn’t act so hot if it was you hearing about
my
sex life. Case in point how you reacted to my nightgown, and I noticed you bringing it up now.”

Okay, that was fair. Vince picked up his cigar again and took a thoughtful puff. “I think that’s what I’m most afraid of.”

“My nightgown?”

He flipped her off, but he half-smiled too, because that was the smartass Rachel he knew and loved. “That this is what everyone will think. I keep telling myself I don’t want to be thrown out of the family. What I really fear is being thought I’m less of a man.” He sighed. “I’m sorry about the nightgown.”

She dragged her chair closer to his and gave him a sideways hug and kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. But for the record, they don’t see me as fine. They do make me feel like I’m the Whore of Babylon for going off on my own, without a husband to keep me from fucking everything that moves, or whatever it is they think a steady man will do for me. It
is
hard, and it isn’t as easy as you made it sound, not by a mile. I’ll grant you the macho-man thing is probably going to be there. I could totally see Marco getting drunk some night and asking about it, making sure you’re the one poking Trey and not the other way around.” She leaned on Vince’s shoulder. “I guess the thing I tell myself, what I try to remember, is that I know deep down they don’t mean to hurt. They’re trying to keep us safe. The world is big and scary, and different is bad. If we all stay in the neighborhood and do the right thing, be the right kind, everything will be fine.”