Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

“So, how do you feel about children, Ansel?”

Fitch choked on the potato he’d just swallowed and snapped his eyes to his mother as he coughed.

Beside him, Ansel tensed. “Children?”

“Yes, do you want a family one day? Do you like kids?”

“Christ, Ma—”

“Watch your mouth, son,” his father said.

“Um. I’ve never really thought about it, Mrs. Donovan.”

His mother hummed like she understood. “Well, you are still too young yet, I suppose. But Fitch is made to be a father.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Ansel looked at him. “I think you’d make a great dad.”

This seemed to please his mother because she nodded. “And you know, there are so many options available for same-sex couples these days—in vitro, surrogates, even adoption.”

Meg snickered across the table and Fitch shot her the evil eye.

“This goes for you too, young lady,” his mother said. This shut Meg up pretty fast and her cheeks turned a nice rosy shade.

“Ma, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. It’s a little early for this conversation.” Fitch rubbed a hand down his face.

“It’s never too early to plan for your future.” Thankfully, his mother let the topic go and returned her focus to cutting the meat on her plate.

After that they talked about the business and school, but eventually the conversation turned to Ansel’s dancing.

“I confess, I watched one of the videos before meeting you,” his mom said. “Meg mentioned they’d seen you dance and I was just so curious.”

A flash of fear crossed Ansel’s face before he quickly concealed it. Under the table, Fitch entwined their fingers.

“They are amazing, aren’t they?” Fitch asked.

“All my friends are stalking the four of you, it’s kind of crazy,” Meg said.

“Really?” Ansel asked, still looking at his mom at the end of the table.

“I can’t believe how you all move so gracefully wearing those shoes. I can’t even walk a straight line.”

Ansel took a deep breath before replying with a cautious tone. “We practice a lot.”

“They rehearse every day,” Fitch added.

“That’s dedication.” This came from his dad with an impressed lift of his eyebrows.

“We love it. Dancing brought us together,” Ansel said. “They are my family.”

“What about your parents?”

At his mother’s innocent question, Ansel flinched and set his fork on the table before clearing his throat. “My family’s not as supportive as you are.”

“Oh.” His mother’s brow wrinkled and she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Because of your eccentricities?” his father asked with a wave of his hand to indicate Ansel’s head-to-toe style.

“Pop,” Fitch warned.

“What? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with dressing that way. But I can see how it might be difficult for some parents to accept, that’s all.”

Ansel let go of Fitch’s hand and tugged on the tie around his neck as a blush spread up over his cheeks. “It’s okay, Fitch, your father is right. I was a challenging child.”

“Now, don’t twist my words,” his father said. “Parents should love and support their children no matter what, but sometimes it’s hard to do. Marge and I love our kids to hell and back, but when Meg came out, we cried. Not because we loved her less, but because we knew her path would be full of obstacles. And now our son will be headed down that same path and there is nothing we can do about it.”

“Dad, it’s not like it used to be.” Meg reached out and rubbed his arm.

“That’s good, sweetie, but we still worry. And now we’ve got double the fear. Being different is always hard. And you—” he nodded at Ansel “—are quite peculiar. I don’t know how we would have handled it.”

Fitch was about to admonish his father, but Ansel placed a hand on his knee.

“Mr. Donovan, lately I’ve come to understand that we are all given challenges in life, sometimes difficult ones, but we are never given anything without a reason and nothing we can’t handle.” Ansel took a breath and smoothed down his tie before continuing.

“You and your wife have loved and nurtured these two and raised them to be good people who can influence the world for the better. You’ve protected them until they became strong enough to defend themselves. I’ve only met her twice, but I know Meg is smart and tough and willing to stand up for her beliefs. And Fitch...” Ansel looked at him, and the emotion swirling those green eyes almost stopped Fitch’s heart.

How the fuck had this become such a tense mess? Fitch debated gathering his lover up and heading out the door, but he couldn’t shield Ansel from the world. No matter how much simpler it would be, they couldn’t just have each other. If they wanted a future together, they would need to come to terms with family, in every sense of the word.

“Fitch is the most incredible, giving, honorable man I have ever met. Whatever path they each walk, you and your wife have given your children the tools to come out the other end, and maybe—hopefully—to help others not so fortunate along the way.”

A sob drew their attention to the other side of the table where his mother sat, fingers pressed to her mouth. Without speaking she rose and crossed to Ansel. She pulled him up into a tight hug.

His father, the giant who’d raised him, taught him how to throw a baseball, bandaged his first scraped knee and every bruise after that—the man who never showed weakness in front of his kids, sat speechless now, because of Ansel.

“That was so beautiful,” his mother whispered.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Donovan, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Don’t mind me, dear.” She hugged him tighter. “I’m so sorry your parents don’t know what a remarkable young man you’ve become.”

Ansel’s arms tightened. “Thank you.”

After another silent moment his mother pulled away with a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, now I think it’s time for dessert. What do you say?” She looked around the table with a lifted brow, settling on her husband. “It will give me time to fix my mascara.”

Ansel pulled a tissue from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “I would love some dessert.”

* * *

Compared to dinner, dessert was smooth sailing. They enjoyed cheesecake and coffee and talked about simple things. Around ten, Meg and Tara left for campus. Soon after, Fitch and Ansel followed.

As they were leaving, his father pulled Fitch aside and clasped him on the shoulder. “Son, I want you to know how much I love you.”

“I know, Pop.”

“The way you dealt with the remodel issue and taking care of your mom and sister showed real fortitude. I can admit I don’t understand your new relationship, but I figure it’s none of my business. I can see you’re happy and that makes me happy. You’re a good son. I’m honored you want to take over the business.”

“It’s your legacy.”

“This thing with John—”

“I can handle whatever comes.”

“He’s threated to pull his business if I don’t fire you.”

Christ.
“Pop, I want to make you proud. I want to take over the company, but if it’s a question of that or Ansel, I will always choose him.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured as soon as I’d heard about what happened. So I told John to do what he had to do.”

“Shit.” That meant he’d lost the company a client already.

“You’re my son and a damn fine contractor. It’s your company now.”

Fitch’s throat closed. “Pop...” He couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“I suspect he’ll start a smear campaign to try and turn some others against you, but you’ve been raised around these people. They know you. They know how hard you work. If you keep doing what you’ve been doing, I suspect many of them will care more about their profits than what goes on in your bedroom.”

Fitch rubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll do my best.”

He’d known that outburst was going to come back and bite him on the ass. He hadn’t cared then and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it now.

“I’m sure you will, son. You’re a brave man and far smarter than I ever was. I’m proud of you.” His dad grunted in that way he had that meant the conversation was getting a little too emotional and it was time for it to end. They slapped each other on the shoulder in a one-handed hug.

Then his mom pulled him into her arms with a whispered “I like him” and a kiss on the cheek.

After Ansel said goodbye, Fitch took his hand and they settled in his vehicle. The moonlight shone on Ansel’s blond hair and his face was relaxed and peaceful.

“I can take you back into the city now, but my apartment isn’t far away and I was hoping you’d want to stay the night? I’ll take you to work in the morning.”

Ansel’s eyes were soft. “Okay.”

The drive was quick and completed in silence. His building was a two-story converted multi-family home. Donovan Construction had done the conversion back in the day, so Fitch had gotten a great deal when he moved in. His neighbor was a seventy-year-old woman with three cats, but she had a separate entrance so he only ever saw her when she asked him to feed the animals. Which, luckily, wasn’t often. He was not a cat person.

Inside he flipped on the light and kicked his boots off. “Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure.” Ansel pulled off his heels, set them next to Fitch’s boots, and followed him into the kitchen.

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold is fine. Nice place.”

“It’s nothing special, but it does the job.” Fitch took out a couple sodas and handed one to Ansel.

“It’s roomy.”

“Want the tour?”

“I do, but first...” Ansel set his soda on the counter and closed the distance between them. His long fingers combed through Fitch’s hair as their lips connected.

Ansel kissed him more tenderly, more intensely, than ever before. His tongue caressed, his fingers played, and his teeth nipped in that intoxicating way he had, only more. It was so much more this time.

On the last stroke, Ansel pulled back just a little. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For tonight, for being right, for trying to protect me.”

“You don’t need protecting, Angel.”

“No, I don’t. But you tried and it meant a lot.”

Fitch smoothed both palms down Ansel’s hair. “It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be. I’m sorry about the drama.”

One corner of Ansel’s mouth tipped up. “Are you kidding? That was pie compared to what I’m used to.”

“You were amazing.”

Ansel blinked and rested his forehead on Fitch’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just stayed there, tucked into Fitch’s neck. His scent drifted up, surrounding them both. Fitch wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

“My parents like you. And you know my sister is your biggest fan.” He felt Ansel’s smile.

“I like them too.”

Having Ansel in his apartment, being together with his family, he began imagining what the rest of their lives might be like, and it became everything he wanted. Everything there was.

If only he could convince Ansel they could make it work.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“And this is where wishes are granted.” Fitch flicked on the bedroom light and allowed Ansel to enter first. It wasn’t fancy. He wasn’t the decorator Ansel was, but it was clean. The king-size bed took up most of the floor space. He’d changed the sheets and used his black comforter instead of the ancient plaid one. He’d set a few candles on the side tables, and while Ansel wandered to the dresser to look at the pictures displayed, Fitch lit them.

“Wishes? You think you’re some kind of fairy godmother?”

Fitch tucked the lighter back into his pocket. “More like the genie in a bottle. Rub me just right and I’ll make all your dreams come true.” He wiggled his eyebrows and felt his heart lift when Ansel laughed and punched his shoulder playfully.

“Someone has a dangerously inflated ego.” The candlelight danced across Ansel’s pale skin and made his eyes twinkle, or maybe that was happiness, Fitch couldn’t be sure.

Pulling on Ansel’s tie, Fitch said, “Should I reenact my Ansel Becke orgasm impression?”

That killer smirk flashed. “Not if you want to live.”

He teased his fingers between the edge of Ansel’s top and the waist of his pants. “You’re the one questioning my ample abilities.”

“I think there are other ways you can prove your power.” Ansel pressed his body closer and reached down to palm Fitch’s groin.

“I love the way your mind works,” he said with an involuntary flex of his hips.

Ansel hummed and nuzzled the soft skin behind his ear. “That’s the second time you used the L-word. If I didn’t know better I might get certain ideas.” Ansel’s tone was teasing, but his words took hold of every muscle in Fitch’s body and held him immobile.

Ansel was pressed so tightly against him, he must have sensed the tension because he pulled back with a sardonic smirk.

“Don’t worry, Grumpy Bear. I’m just kidding. I know it was only another figure of speech.”

Figure of speech.
Yeah.
Fitch consciously relaxed his shoulders and forced out a laugh.

“I guess I’d better dust off my thesaurus. Wouldn’t want you to get any notions in that pretty little head of yours.” The fake pretentiousness colored his tone just enough to make Ansel chuckle. At the sound, Fitch breathed a little easier.

“Too late, I’ve got all kinds of notions. But they mainly center on your lips, and your hands, and your big, beautiful cock.”

Awkward revelation avoided, yet again, Fitch let himself smile. “Now that is something I can get behind.”

Ansel leaned forward again and sucked his earlobe, grazing his teeth against the flesh as he pulled away.

“You sure?” Ansel whispered, teasing his tongue around the shell.

Fitch felt that sultry tug like an electric spark and he moaned. Barely able to breathe, he pushed out, “Oh yeah, one hundred percent,” before he captured his lover’s lips and devoured him.

Ansel’s familiar taste was hidden behind the bitterness of coffee and the sweetness of cheesecake, so Fitch deepened the kiss to chase it down. Like his lover’s scent, he wanted to drown in the flavor. It was spicy and sweet and completely addicting. As he swept his tongue in, dueling with Ansel’s equally desperate tongue, he gripped his lover’s firm hips. They ground together, wrapped in a lust that was both terrifying in its intensity and soothing in its intimacy.

It was silly to project his own feelings onto something as simple as a kiss, but he ached to believe that Ansel might feel the same. And even if he didn’t now, Fitch needed to have hope that Ansel could eventually come to around to it.

Love. It was big. Big and fucking scary. He’d always imagined settling down, getting married, and having enough babies to satisfy his mother. But as he considered that future against one spent with the man in his arms it paled in comparison. Even if they never had kids, even if they never tied the knot, even if he never heard the words he ached to hear, Ansel was the option that gave his life color.

He’d be chasing Ansel for the rest of his life and he’d die a happy man.

With that thought in his mind, the stress faded and he fell into their mating with renewed abandon. He clawed at his lover’s cotton-covered back and nipped his full bottom lip, knowing his own mouth would be smeared with the waxy red gloss for the rest of the night. He wasn’t even bothered by the thought.

Ansel gasped with a curse, gripping Fitch’s hair in two fists as he thrust their bodies together.

“How do you want me?” Ansel asked.

Fitch paused, trying to catch his breath. His mouth was suddenly as dry as he was desperate. He wished he’d brought the soda upstairs, but he hadn’t been thinking that far in advance. His heart thudded against his rib cage and he licked his lips before taking a step back.

“I was thinking...” He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. “Hoping...” he corrected. “That we could try something new tonight.”

Ansel’s smudged red lips tipped up in his signature smirk. The same one that always brought Fitch to his knees, and this time was no different. Those green eyes glittered at him.

“Different?” With a tilt to his head. “Kinky different? Do you have a pair of handcuffs hidden somewhere?”

Ansel reached out and slid the drawer of the bedside table open just as Fitch said, “Wait.”

But it was too late. Ansel’s eyes went wide.

* * *

“What’s this?” Ansel grabbed the butt plug, utter shock making him stupid, and turned to wave it at Fitch.

He knew what it was, obviously. But he couldn’t figure out why Fitch would have one. It was a relatively small one made of black silicone. Right beside it was another bottle of the Sliquid Sassy lube. His brain stuttered, struggling to process the information. Apparently, Fitch wasn’t doing any better.

“You don’t know?”

Ansel scowled. “Of course I know. Why do you have a butt plug? Did you want me to use it? If so, you should have asked. This one is way too small for me.”

Fitch’s lips thinned and his face grew pale. “No.” He shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing endearingly.

“No?”

“It’s not for you.”

Kaboom.
Kaboom.
Kaboom.
Ansel’s heart beat so hard it felt like it might break right through his chest and make a run for it.

His limbs grew heavy even as shock waves rippled up and down his spine.

Fitch was using a butt plug.
Why?

The image of the slender black silicone length sliding into his lover’s ass filled him with a lust so strong he almost lost the strength to stand. Fitch was gorgeously muscular and hairy. To see him spread open, vulnerable—God. Ansel’s dick was ready to rip out of his dress pants.

“You said you liked to top sometimes.” Fitch’s response was quiet, and there was a tiny flutter in his breath like the nerves couldn’t be contained

Because Ansel liked to top sometimes?

For him?

Fitch was preparing, for him?

Confusion warred with the evidence until it all jumbled in Ansel’s stomach. Taking a deep breath he tried to clear his mind, to focus, because something was being said here without anyone actually saying anything. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Or maybe, he didn’t dare hope.

He bit his lip while weighing the toy in his hand and turned to Fitch.

“You want me to fuck you?” Having his bossy, controlling top at his mercy would be so much fucking fun.

At Ansel’s words, Fitch closed his eyes in a slow blink. When he opened them again, they were filled with desire. And fear.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Ansel took another step, stalking Fitch and wielding the toy like a sword.

Fitch’s gaze darted to Ansel’s lips before his tongue peeked out to lick his own. When he spoke his tone was once again full of uncertainty.

“Because I...I...” Fitch looked to the ceiling, presumably searching for the words. Ansel studied the blush that spread up his throat, the rapid pulse surging through the vein there, the way his chest rose and fell.

He’d never seen Fitch so out of control. Ansel stopped his advance and his heart waited.

“Because...I...umm,” Fitch struggled.

I
love you.

Those three little words hung in the air. The breath in Ansel’s lungs died and every nerve in his body trembled like his soul was on the verge of flying into a million pieces.

It was a single moment, a tiny slice of time.

Say it.

But it expanded into forever and eternity, into forgotten dreams and unrealistic longings.

Say it.

His childhood had chased away every secret fantasy of a happily-ever-after, every wish of a love that could last a lifetime. His past was unforgiving, brutal, and hard. But ever since meeting Fitch, he’d started to believe his future could be different.

Say it.

He’d started to want those silly things from a time when everything was simple, easy, and honest. Because that’s how Fitch made him feel. And so he held his breath. Waited.

Say it.

“I...I’m curious.”

The disappointment took Ansel by surprise. The glow that had bloomed in his heart during that wink of time dimmed. He blinked and consciously restarted his heart, his lungs, his mind, until he could focus again and analyze what he was truly feeling. Hope?

Hope for their future. For his life.

And he was finally seeing the truth.

He wanted to be loved.

He wanted to love. To love with all his heart, to love Fitch unconditionally.

So instead of being disappointed, he took a deep breath. He brought the plug down hard into his other palm so the slap sounded in the silence of the room. Fitch looked down, eyes caught on the toy as Ansel stroked it.

“I can work with curiosity,” Ansel said. The cannonballs were still exploding inside when he tossed the black length to the bed and pulled off his shrug.

Yes, he loved to top. It was a treat he rarely enjoyed and Fitch wanted to give it to him. The importance of such a gift wasn’t lost on him. This was why his nerves rattled so much his hands were shaking.

But beneath the anxiousness, there was a throbbing ball of excitement. Because,
holy fuck
, he was about to make love to Fitch in a way his Grumpy Bear had never done with anyone else before.

He’d be the first.

As he pulled off his cami, letting his loose hair and tie fall haphazardly around his face, he finally admitted what he’d been running from for weeks.

He wanted to be the
only one
.

He wanted to be Fitch’s, forever.