Date: Fri, 6 Dec 2019 17:53:54 -0500 From: RJ Subject: To Know What You Want - Ch. 5 To Know What You Want by RJ Meyers This story is about a high school sophomore who hits it off with a young man he meets on a dating app. Though the age gap is not large, if themes of adult/youth offend you, do not read. This chapter will be the final one for this story. It's a lengthy one, but I figured it'd be better to just tidy everything up in one big chapter. For those who have been following this story for a while, feel free to take the ending wherever you desire. If you have any questions or comments about this piece, want to know about any of my other works, or just want to reach out, please don't hesitate to email me. If you would like to be added to a mailing list for this story (or all stories) and receive emails about any updates, let me know. A list of my works, including links and descriptions, can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI Please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Any amount helps. ~ Chapter 5 ~ There's an antsy feeling in the pit of me, almost like my stomach is bubbling. I stash my bike in the bushes, and before heading towards the school building, I look around for Pete's beat-up old Mustang he and his uncle put months of work into. I find it towards the front of the lot, parked in the handicapped space like the work of a total dick, no less. Fuck. I almost wish I got here earlier so I could hide from him before he arrived. Pete and I usually meet up every morning before classes start -- not necessarily to do anything, but just to hang out, talk smack, etc. Today's not one of those days, though. I don't see him before first period, or second. I go through the hallways with my eyes like fucking seeking missiles, constantly scanning for Pete's smug little face. Turns out he finds me. Between second and third period, I'm at my locker switching out textbooks (algebra for Spanish) when I feel a presence beside me -- and my heart almost stops when I turn and see him. "You punched me," he says. That's it. No "hello" or "how are ya" or anything. Guess we're past greetings. I look him over for a second, seeing that his nose still looks a little swollen. Good. Even though I probably shouldn't be happy about that, I am. I just turn back to my locker, pulling out my Spanish book and cupping it in my arm. "You deserved it," I say. "What the fuck was that about?" he demands. "You were being a dick, Pete," I say, deciding to man up enough to look him in the eye. I expect him to look more pissed than he does, but I get the sense that he's mostly confused rather than angry. I don't know if that's a relief or if it instigates me. "Not a big enough of a dick for you to fuckin' deck me out in front of some random dude," he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the lockers. "He's not some random dude," I tell him, looking back into my locker. I feel like I'm missing something for class, but Pete is distracting me and I can't focus right now. "Who the fuck is he, then?" Pete asks. I inhale deeply before I push the words from my mouth: "My boyfriend." I can tell Pete has completely paused. He freezes for several moments before bursting out laughing, and as he expels air, I realize I can smell the weed on him -- which only makes me roll my eyes. When the hell did he find time to smoke up between classes? "Good one, J," he says, patting my shoulder. But I shrug him off. "I'm not kidding," I say, and the edge in my voice seems to make him realize that I'm being dead fucking serious right now. "He's your... Huh?" Pete clearly sounds confused, and when I look over at him, I notice him looking me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. "You can't be serious." Just then, Winston pops up. He's my locker neighbor, and conveniently, Pete is completely blocking his locker. He hesitates to interrupt before starting to speak. "Mind if I--?" "Fuck off," Pete snaps at Winston. I glance at the poor kid almost apologetically. He's a shrimpy pacifist who'd stand no chance against Pete should he say the wrong thing. So I shut my locker and start to walk away, knowing Pete will follow and leave Winston out of this. And he does. After I take a few steps, I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Wait a sec--" "Don't fucking touch me," I snap, shrugging his hand off again and spinning around. "Relax, J," he says, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "I just wanna know what the fuck is going on with you." "I'm a fucking fag," I tell him, and I watch his eyes get wider in surprise. "Not that it's any of your fucking business." I turn around and start walking quickly enough to avoid Pete's attempt to grab me. "Jax--" he starts to say, but I cut him off. "Bye, Pete," I call back, fists clenched as I storm off to class. I have one goal in mind: to get away from him before I get into major fucking trouble. The last thing I need is another suspension -- or worse, expulsion. I hadn't necessarily planned on coming out to Pete (especially not like that), but I think that, in the moment, I realized how tired I was of hiding it. Coming out to Dad last night was freeing and relieving in a lot of ways, and when I woke up this morning, I realized something important: I shouldn't give a fuck anymore. Maybe it'll be better for me if I just fully adopt that sort of thinking, particularly when it comes to Pete. I mean, why the hell should I maintain a friendship with someone who'd refer to me as "a no-good faggot" behind my back? I stay in a foggy sort of bad mood the entirety of my next class, made worse because, as soon as I sit down, I realize what I forgot: my folder. We were supposed to hand in an assignment at the beginning of class, and now it's sitting in my locker, earning me no credit. The teacher is a bit of a cunt, too, and she doesn't let me go back to get it. Silently fuming at my desk, I blame Pete. Fuck you, Pete. I just slump in my seat, unable to focus. I don't give a shit about learning Spanish, least of all through dramatic ass telenovelas. Mrs. Watkins has been making us watch them since last week, and they make me want to pull my hair out. What is this teaching me besides the fact that Spanish-speaking people apparently don't know how to act? Something cheers me up though: a text from Danny near the end of the class. My whole body instantly lights up when I see his name on my screen, and I sit up in my seat and look around the dim classroom before opening his text. It reads, "What's it gonna take for you to let me sink this six-and-a-half-inch British schlong inside that teen bunghole of yours this afternoon?" I do my best to resist laughing, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I send him a quick text back: "Jesus Christ you're disgusting". "Hahah. Tell me you didn't laugh". "I didn't". "Not even a smile?" In response, I send him a quick photo of me from under my desk, flipping him off and playfully glaring at him. "LOL fine. But seriously, I'm free, and I'm bored, and I'm horny thinking about my baby". I bite my lip, squirming in my seat slightly when I see those last two words on my screen. I tell him I'm at school, though. "Let me pick you up after then". I smile. The thought of Danny meeting me after school is incredibly reassuring. Guess now I have something to look forward to. I say, "Yes please. I'm having a rough day." When he asks what's up, I merely tell him I'll catch him up later. It'll be easier to talk it out in person. Besides, I'm too busy trying to focus on the good, already counting down the minutes to when my boyfriend will help me take my mind off of things. When the final bell rings, it takes everything in my power not to sprint to my locker to pack my bag and then bolt out into the parking lot. Calm and collected: that's the way to be. But I can't resist smiling goofily to myself, adjusting the straps on my shoulders as I head outdoors and look around for Danny's car. I hear someone honk their horn, and when I turn towards the direction it came from, I smile at seeing Danny beckoning me over. "C'mere, sweet cheeks!" he yells. Jesus Christ. Is he trying to out me or something? I could hit him. Blushing, I look around to see if he drew any unwanted attention before I head over to the driver's side and quickly throw my fist at him through the open window. "Shut up," I mutter. He winces and laughs, rubbing the pec I chose to strike. "Easy! I'm tender," he says, pouting before grinning at me coyly. "Hop in." "My bike is in the woods, though," I tell him, glancing in the back. "Will it fit in the trunk?" "If I put the backseat down, yeah, probably," he says, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Go grab it." Resisting the urge to kiss him in public, I hurry away from the parking lot, grabbing my bike from behind my favorite bush and wheeling it over to Danny's car. When I return, he already has the trunk open and the entire backseat down. We take a minute to finagle my bike into the back of his sedan before shutting the trunk. Then, he smiles at me. I know that look, though. He's eyeing my lips, clearly wanting to kiss me -- and I'm tempted to let him. "On a scale of one to ten, how hard would you hit me if I tried to kiss you right now?" "Eleven," I mutter, my body feeling hot. I know he's joking though. He could get into trouble if someone caught us, right? He grins slightly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Almost worth it," he whispers, starting to lean in playfully. I push him back before he can continue to tease, and he chuckles. "I bet I could take you." "You'd lose that bet," I threaten. "Maybe we should test that," he suggests, still smirking. "How 'bout it? Wanna wrestle with Daddy?" When he sees the way my face glows red, he bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry, but it's too fun to tease you, Jax." "Let's just get outta here," I mutter, avoiding his gaze and cursing him out before heading over to the passenger side. I transfer my backpack to the floor of his car as I plop down on the seat with a sigh. Once Danny enters via the driver's side, I ask, "Where to?" while buckling up. "My parents'," he says, glancing at me as he starts the car. Jess must be watching Riley today. Thank you, Jess. "Figured you'd want some one-on-one time." "You figured right," I say, smiling at him while he veers out of the parking lot and focuses on driving. "Even though you're a dick, I missed you." "I saw you literally yesterday," he teases with a chuckle before looking over at me and hitting me with a smile that makes my heart throb, "but I missed you too, Jaxie." He reaches over to stroke my thigh. Automatically, my legs open a little more to let him comfortably cup the inside of it. "How come your day was shitty?" I shrug. "Was just in a weird mood all day." I rest my hand on top of Danny's, looking out the passenger side window while I speak. "Kinda came out to him." I can feel Danny's eyes on me after I say that. "Who?" "Pete." "Wait, really?" he asks. The surprise in his voice is obvious. "What happened?" "I just kind of... blurted it out," I tell him, recalling the way the words were pushed out of me like vomit. "I was mad and it just slipped or something." Danny ponders this, his thumb stroking my leg. "Well, what'd he say?" "Nothing," I sigh. "I just walked away before he could get anything out." "Huh." I glance over at Danny, who's nodding to himself before he smiles at me. "Think he'll come around?" "Who cares if he doesn't?" I murmur. "I think you do," Danny tells me, and I almost round on him before he laughs, clearly having expected me to get red-faced. "Don't come at me, tough guy," he says, squeezing my thigh. "There's nothing wrong with caring." "Can we not talk about this?" I sulk, not wanting to sour the inevitable good mood Danny will put me in -- but I'm quick to get defensive. I don't need to feel stupid or be psychoanalyzed right now. I'd just rather be angry at Pete. "Alright, alright," he says, running his hand slowly up and down the inside of my leg. "If it makes you feel any better, my parents aren't home, so I can help you with that aggression of yours. As loudly as you want." I just roll my eyes and exact a swift but gentle slap to his chest. He flinches and laughs before snatching my hand in his, holding it gently, and instantly calming me. When we get to his parents' house, we make our way into Danny's den, and I head straight for the bedroom to throw myself onto his bed. I collapse with a grunt, his blanket feeling warm and cozy from sitting directly in the sun. I hear Danny chuckling as he enters the room. "Comfy?" he asks. "Mhm," I hum, kicking my boots off and letting them fall to the floor as I curl up in the middle of his bed. "Lonely, though." He hits me with a cheeky grin. "Gimme a sec, cuddlebug," he teases, setting his keys, wallet, and phone on his dresser. Then, he stands in front of his wall mirror for a second, eyeing himself over and stroking his scruff. "Should I shave all this off?" he asks me. I sit up as if electrocuted. "No!" I say forcefully. Why the fuck would he do that? He grins at me through the mirror. "No?" Having embarrassed myself enough, I feel my face getting warm. "I like it," I say meekly, taking a moment to admire his looks. He's so fucking handsome with his overgrown stubble. I don't know what he'd look like without a beard, but that's an adjustment I'm not quite willing to make -- not without a fight, at least. He turns around, leaning against his dresser and crossing his arms over his chest. "How much do you like it, though?" "Too much," I tell him. "Please don't shave." He smiles at me before coming to the bed, kicking his shoes off and then crawling closer to me until we're both kneeling face-to-face. "Fine," he says, leaning in to press his lips against mine. "Just for you." Smiling, I kiss him back. "Thank you, Daddy," I murmur, and Danny grunts before roping me into a deeper, more erotic kiss, inhaling as our lips fight. Right off the bat, the kisses are fueled by fire, lips smacking loudly as we each strive for dominance. We both know how this dance goes, though: Danny will play along with me wearing the crown in bed for as long as he pleases, but as soon as he says the word or gives me that particular look or pins me, I'm all his. For now, I have the upper hand. I grab at his t-shirt and try to tug it off of him, desperate for skin-on-skin contact. We separate our lips just to strip out of our shirts, and before they even hit the floor, we continue trying to devour each other. Danny puts his arms around me and brings our fronts together, even reaching down to my ass to both grip me and tug me closer. I moan in his mouth just as I start to grind my crotch against his, our bulges stiffening by the second. How does he do this to me? In the past, I'd resort to hooking up with some stranger only out of desperation, because I'd always be satiated for a while. Not with Danny, though. I constantly crave more of him even though I had his cock inside me less than twenty-four hours ago. I bet if he fingers me deep enough, he could feel his cum from yesterday. Eager to find out, I break the kiss, panting as I look down and start to undo his pants. Before I even get the button undone, he slaps my hands away and murmurs for me to get naked, taking over his own undressing. He makes quick work of his pants, underwear, and socks, and I follow closely behind. Just as I'm attempting to kick my shorts off my ankles, Danny sweeps me in for more deep, languid kisses, holding the back of my head with one hand and grabbing one of my wrists with his other. He tugs on my hand, and I quickly realize he's bringing it right to his cock: hot, solid, and wanting. "See how fucking hard you make me?" he murmurs against my lips, his breath moist and vaguely smelling of spearmint. I just nod, the words caught in my throat. In a weird way, I feel honored that I turn Danny on so much. It makes me feel confident and proud and downright fucking sexy -- and all I want to do is make him cum because of it. In response, I peck his lips before eagerly bending over. As I kick my shorts off completely, I lean down on my elbows, ass arched high and my eyes level with his cock. Fuck, he's already leaking. Talk about honored. I crane my neck forward and let his precum drip onto my tongue before I give the underside of his head a gentle lick. Immediately, my mouth salivates -- and not just from the taste of him. It's his scent, too. He smells perfect to me: unshowered, but not unclean. The aroma draws me in, and I part my lips to coat his soft, erect cockflesh in warm, wet adoration. I look up at him as I start bobbing back and forth, watching his eyes scan my backside. They seem mostly fixated on the curve of my ass while he rests a hand on the back of my head. I bob slowly back and forth, moaning as I go. Cock shouldn't taste this good, and yet here I am, literally drooling all over Danny, all over a cock that has made life. I close my eyes as I take him deeper, guided both by his hand and by my own desire. The warmth he emits is incredible, and I want to bury my face in it. I want it to smother me completely. I grab at his balls and tug them closer so that he'll get the hint, and almost immediately, I feel him push his hips forward. Back and forth he goes, slowly fucking my mouth and gradually picking up speed. "Good boy," he murmurs, reaching his free hand down to give my ass a firm slap. "Good fuckin' boy." I grunt around his cock, the shock of the spank causing my throat to open enough for his cock to slip in. Even though I'm choking, I just clench my eyes shut and let him dip in and out of my gullet. At one point he uses both hands to hold the back of my head down on his cock while he sinks in all the way. His pubes tickle my nostrils and I claw at the sheets, struggling for air but wanting to breathe nothing but him. Finally, though, when he's ground enough against my face, he pulls his now-soaked cock out of my mouth with one swift motion. Immediately, I gasp for air, coughing saliva out of my esophagus. Danny, however, has his own plans. He leans over me, both hands sliding down my backside until he's cupping both cheeks. Squeezing tightly, he shakes each one before prying them apart and letting a single finger pet my hole. Right away, I start squirming, constantly switching between pushing my cock into the sheets and riding back against his index finger. I'm still clearing my throat of saliva as Danny steps over me, straddling my spine while he plays with my ass. I feel him spread my cheeks again, and then he whistles. "Jesus Christ," he whispers. Immediately, I tense up, looking up. "What?" I ask nervously. "You have the prettiest fucking cunt," he says, and I laugh softly. "I'm serious!" he adds, running his thumb across my hole like he's never touched it before. "Beautiful little pussy, baby." "Shut up," I murmur, reaching back to slap the side of his leg. I just hear him chuckle before he completely leans over, his mouth overtaking my hole. I gasp out, eyes rolling back as he plants his lips over my pucker like a suction cup and purposefully drags his tongue across me as slowly as possible. God, it feels so good. I whimper like a little bitch, squirming a little. His weight keeps me from being able to arch my back the way I want to, but I think that's the point. He has me in his grip, and all I can do is moan and submit. He's not afraid to get sloppy and loud with it. Frankly, it sounds like we're having an aggressive make-out session, except for the fact that he's French kissing my hole rather than my mouth. He spits and growls and tongues and sucks, and I just want him to take all of me, every single inch of me. When Danny pulls his mouth away, I can finally catch my breath as he shifts forward more. Soon, I feel his cock between my cheeks. He pushes down on the head down against my hole while he straddles the small of my back and rubs himself against me to add friction. Vaguely, I can hear him humming -- and after I feel him spit down onto his cock, his wet saliva trickles across my hole and over my taint. He keeps pushing his head against my entrance until, eventually, it pokes in. It's nothing but a tease. He dips part of the head in backwards over and over, in and out -- and I can't take it. I need more. "Danny," I murmur, but he doesn't hear me. He just keeps toying with me. "Danny, please," I say louder. He pauses, glancing back. "You okay?" "You're teasing the fuck out of me." "Oh," he says with a laugh. "Sorry, princess." I reach back to slap his hip, only making him laugh harder. It does the trick, though: he moves. He flips me over before he he grips my wrists and pins them to the bed. Now my arms are stuck to my sides, because all his upper weight is pressing down on them to keep me in place. Slowly, he moves his hips back until his cock is dangling above my face. "Open up," he tells me. I do so without even thinking, slacking my jaw and letting him sink his cock in -- all the way to the hilt. I groan as he pulls back, letting me gasp for air as my spit drips off his cock and onto my face. Then, he's back at it. He falls into a slow, steady rhythm of face-fucking, constantly stretching my throat and threatening to make me gag too much. But this is how you get better at something, right? You challenge yourself -- or let your boyfriend challenge you. The ultimate trial is when he sinks in and holds his position, his balls resting on my nose and my throat bulging with his daddy meat. I can't breathe, and my whole body writhes as I attempt to remove my arms from his grip and escape. At the same time, though, my cock is spurting precum onto my stomach like a leaky faucet. I can feel it. He's got me hot and bothered as all hell, totally full of just... *him*. When he does pull away, it's like the breath of life -- but I'm barely a second into inhaling when he slaps my cheek just hard enough for my entire body to shudder in response. I blink a few times, feeling that residual sting, looking up at him from between his thighs with a stunned expression -- and he's just grinning. He knows I would not hesitate to chop a fucker down to size. Anyone who dares to strike me is fair game. But in this context, with the taste of cock coating my tongue and my boyfriend's warm touch on either side of my face, I feel... different. "You okay?" he asks me, tenderly stroking my skin. I just nod, feeling like I'm in a sauna. That's how hot I am. "Yeah," I manage to say, my breathing labored. "Not too much?" I shake my head, licking my lips. He smiles. "Good. I figured you'd like that," he says, leaning over to spit directly in my mouth before he kisses me so deeply and so suddenly that I can barely keep up. It's like he's trying to take back all the flavor of him he's given me, and I do my best to fight back with my tongue. Then, without so much as a hint of a warning, he breaks the kiss and slides off of the bed. I take a few moments to regain my bearings as Danny grabs the lube. He walks around the bed with it, prepping his cock with slow, squelching strokes before pausing at the edge of the bed. Still standing, he gestures for me to slide closer to him. Guess he wants to fuck me as he stands. Once my ass is at the edge, he nudges my legs open with the back of his wrist and presses cool, lubed fingers against my hole. I moan softly as he teases me with soft circles before gently pushing into me, coating my insides. Even he lets out a low grumble as he fingers me tenderly. It doesn't last long, though. We're both eager, and horny, and craving. Quickly, he extracts his finger and positions himself to replace it with his dick. "Been thinkin' about this all day," he says, rubbing the head of his cock against my opening. "Me too," I admit, biting my lip and loosely tugging on my own hard-on. He hits me with a small smile before pushing forward. I gasp as I feel him enter me, hot, pulsing cock stretching me out and filling me up. That's it, Danny. Take it. Take me. He grunts softly before he starts rocking his hips back and forth, eyes watching his cock sink into me repeatedly. As his pace quickens, he grabs a hold of my legs and pushes them back, managing to drive his dick in deeper. I grunt, closing my eyes for a moment. His pubes soften each blow, but there's a precise power to each stride that hits me just fucking right. I feel good. I feel alive. I feel wanted and needed. That feeling is exaggerated once Danny speaks up. "God, Jax," he sighs, "I could fuck no one else but you for the rest of my life and be totally fucking happy." My face gets hot as I look at him, amazed. "Don't say shit like that." "I mean it," he murmurs, spreading my legs, leaning over, and plunging in deep. I cry out just as his lips snag mine, and immediately, he picks up the pace while holding onto the back of my head. We don't kiss much but merely hold our lips together, breathing each other in and out, rocking steadily. His headboard is rattling, and I'm whimpering like a little bitch in absolute fucking heat. Suddenly, he pulls out so sharply my hole makes a sucking noise before shutting. I whine in protest, looking at him as he stands up, clenches his teeth, and clamps down on the base of his dick -- probably to keep from cumming. "Come back," I groan. He chuckles breathily, waiting for his cock to calm down before crawling back over me and kissing me again. Instead of penetrating me, though, he starts to roll over. I shift with him until I end up on top, grinding against his cock before I get the hint: he wants me to ride him. Guess I'm getting the reigns for a bit. I sit up on his lap, reach back to keep his member in place, and sink down on it with one swift, fluid motion. Both of us moan out simultaneously, which just makes us laugh together until I start moving my hips. I start with circles, grinding in deep and letting his cock scratch that desperate itch before starting to bounce. Danny just lounges back, hands behind his head, relaxing while I fuck myself on his dick. God, he's so hot, hairy belly and all. I put one hand on it as I ride him and start putting on a bit of a show for him without really being aware of it. I'm just doing what feels good: sinking hard down on his cock, running one hand over my torso to tease each nipple equally, letting my hand drift down to grip my cock as I start to fuck my fist. I could do this all fucking day. "You're so fucking hot, Jax," he says, smirking at me. "Shut up, Danny," I mumble. "So goddamn sexy." Even though his tone borders on reverent, I can't take a compliment, so I reach down and cover his mouth. "Shut the fuck up." I shift my feet so that they're both on the bed and I'm squatting down on his cock, able to take his dick not only deeper but harder. He grunts against my palm as I slam down into his lap, making him drive into me, wanting everything he has to offer, every last fucking millimeter. I'd take his balls, too, if I could. Danny can't handle this treatment for long, though. He mumbles something against my palm, but I don't let him speak. I'm focused. I watch those playfully coy eyebrows of his rise higher and higher -- and I know what that means: he's close. That nut is mine, and so I pick up the pace, bucking my ass down with each thrust and making us bounce a little on the bed. Danny's moans get louder and louder until they get choked as he arches his back, planting a thick load in me. Finally, I release his mouth to sink down on his cock and slowly grind. "Fuuuck," he groans, panting as he runs his hand over his face. "Goddamn, it feels like I knocked you up," he murmurs. I blush, so intensely and immediately turned on that it feels like a goddamn tidal wave of arousal crashing down on me. No wonder it's called "breeding." Fuck, how have I never made that connection before? Maybe that's why I like dads so much, why I like Danny's cum inside me: he bred the fuck out of me. "That's fucking hot," I mutter, short of breath. Danny looks up at me with an intrigued expression before smiling. "Yeah?" Danny says, running one hand up my leg before resting it on my stomach. "Daddy just put a baby in you, huh?" Jesus Christ. I know he thinks he's being funny, because he immediately starts laughing, but it's oddly enough still turning me the fuck on. I reach forward, placing my hands on his chest and squeezing as I gently swirl my hips into his lap. "Keep fucking me." He raises one eyebrow. "But I just--" "Fucking fuck me, Danny," I demand. "Hard. I need to cum." He slowly licks his lips in a contemplative state before he pounces. I gasp in surprise from his burst of energy, suddenly finding myself on my back with his hands pinning my shoulders down. Within an instant, Danny penetrates me again, thrusting deep and making sure I feel every inch of his manhood. Right off the bat, he doesn't waste time warming up. He just gets right into a harsh rhythm, making the bed shake and my moans come out in sharp bursts. His pace is precise enough for me to only have to loosely hold my cock. The sheer power of his thrusts rocking my body causes me to jerk myself off without even having to move my wrist. This orgasm isn't a slow-build. I feel a shift inside of me that's slight and nearly undetectable among everything else that's happening, but then, all of a sudden, I'm cumming. I cry out, literal tears escaping my eyes as cum spurts violently from my throbbing cock, spewing in all directions. Sorry about the mess, Danny. My climax is so intense that it takes me a few moments to regain consciousness, it seems. I don't realize Danny had stopped until I open my eyes to see him panting over me with a soft smile on his face. "Thought I killed you for a sec, there," he says, laughing. I just blush and look away. "You kinda did," I murmur softly, feeling myself sink into the bed. I feel weighty as hell, totally spent. When he pulls out, he sighs heavily, and I look back up at him to watch him wipe sweat off his forehead. He looks down between my legs and then nudges my inner thigh with his knuckles, so I open my legs a little more, allowing him to press his thumb against my well-used hole -- a hole he effectively fucked into a pussy. "As sloppy as it gets," he says with a grin, and I bite my lip. "You feel nice and pregnant?" This fucker and his teasing. "Can you stop?" I say, even though I don't really want him to. He just chuckles, climbing over me and slowly resting his weight on my body. "Don't think I didn't notice that, little boy," he mutters, kissing my neck. I squirm slightly, laughing and letting him pepper my skin with gentle smooches. I'm just about to close my eyes and let myself drift, but my eyes suddenly catch something: the clock. "Fuck," I groan. "What?" "I should go." "Go?" He groans too. "Why?" "I'm basically on house arrest," I tell him. After our little argument, Mom wants to know about all my comings and goings -- even if I'm not using her car. She thinks I'm up to something. I could lie and say I had to stay after school for a group project (which I'm pretty sure she'd believe), but I'm pushing the believable window of time by staying here. "Damn it," Danny says, sighing through his nose before kissing my cheek and sliding off of me. "Was hoping to spend more time with you." I grimace. "Sorry." He looks at me for a moment before shrugging. "It's alright," he says, sounding discouraged -- which I find incredibly endearing. "You want a ride?" I smile gently. "That'd be nice, yeah." It takes some effort to drag my well-fucked ass out of his comfortable bed, but I manage to stumble to my feet. Reluctantly, I start getting dressed, practically full-body flushing all over again when I feel a trickle of his cum run down my leg. Danny dresses in something quick and casual: a simple pair of sweats and a t-shirt. No underwear, either. He looks like he just rolled out of bed with the way his hair sticks up in certain places, but I at least make myself presentable for my mom and tidy myself up. Once I'm dressed and ready to go, he grabs his wallet and keys and leads me back outside -- and as soon as we step in the driveway, I see that we're not alone. "Daniel!" A tall, skeletal woman with radiantly dark hair emerges from the passenger side of a Tesla, looking surprised to see Danny -- with company, no less. Danny's just as surprised to, though I'm sure he's just caught off guard. "Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "We didn't know you were going to be here," she comments, clutching onto her bag. Just as I'm wondering who "we" is referring to, a man who can only be described as a "gentleman" steps out from the driver's seat. He looks distinguished. "Last minute, uh... thing," Danny says vaguely. "Well, you look a mess," his mother mentions, eyeing him with a bit of disdain. Even I have to try not to blush realizing that, if we had fucked any longer, we would have been overheard. I notice his mother's eyes flicker towards me skeptically, so I clear my throat to get Danny's attention. "Oh. Yeah. Jax, these are my parents," he says. "Mom? This is Jax." "Jax? What an interesting name," his mother says, eyeing me curiously. Danny's mother reminds me of one of my aunts: self-important. So, I take a risk and decide to charm her the way I would my Aunt Julie. "Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Wilson," I say, smiling as authentically as I can. "You have a beautiful home," I tell her. A beautiful son too. "The feng shui is--" what was the word Aunt Julie used? "--poignant." Guess it suffices, because she looks impressed. "You know about feng shui?" she asks, like it's a term only for the wealthy. "Of course. Everything feels beautifully balanced," I lie. Admittedly, it's a little much for me, but Danny has told me how much care his mother puts into the details and the décor, so I have to tickle her somehow. She smiles brightly at me before her husband trots over -- and she actually does the introduction. "Honey, this is Daniel's friend, Jax," she murmurs. When he offers his hand, I give him my best handshake. He grunts approvingly, and I smile to myself. Gotta thank Dad for teaching me that trick. "Nice to meet you, lad," he says, his accent much thicker than Danny's. "You as well." "Where are you two off to?" he asks, glancing at his son. "Taking this guy home," Danny murmurs, putting a hand on my shoulder blade. Mrs. Wilson nods a bit, looking at me. "Do you live far?" "I actually live pretty close by," I mention. "He's kind of in a rush, though," Danny says quickly, "so we're gonna head out." Unless I'm mistaken, his mom actually looks disappointed. "Oh. Well, you *must* invite him for dinner sometime soon. We can talk more feng shui," she says, giggling like she made an inappropriate joke. I just smile with a nod, and I feel Danny apply pressure to my back as if to urge me towards his car. "It was nice meeting you both," I mention. "Take care, Jax!" she says brightly, and she half-waves in my direction. I just chuckle to myself as Danny keeps pushing me towards the car, and once I hop inside, I expel a breath. "Well, that was awkward," I mutter, putting my seatbelt on. Danny just laughs as he enters. "Could've been a lot worse," he says, eyeing me as he starts his car. "They could have hated you, and yet, you somehow charmed my mother." I snort. "Somehow? Dick." It's a relief though, especially considering how Jess painted them out to be a couple of hard-asses. Whenever Danny decides to come out to them, I at least won't be a total stranger -- *and* already on their good side. "She seems okay." "She's just pretentious," he murmurs, "so that feng shui thing was genius." Guess I have Aunt Julie to thank for that. "My parents are much easier to please. You'd have no problem charming them," I add. "Oh yeah?" he asks, pulling out of his driveway. "Think they'd like me?" "For sure," I say, smiling. Who fucking wouldn't? My mom would think he's fascinating because he's British and handsome, and my dad would appreciate that Danny's just... a *dude*, through and through. "And what would you introduce me as, pray tell?" he teases, smirking as he accelerates onto the road. "Your tutor? Or, anger management counselor?" "Ha ha," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "In theory, I'd introduce you as... you know... my boyfriend." For a moment, Danny drops the comedic smile for a softer, more appreciative one. "Yeah?" I nod, wondering if I can will myself not to blush. "Yeah," I murmur before suddenly remembering something. "I actually came out to my dad." "Wait wait... what?" Danny laughs, looking completely surprised. "I saw you less than twenty-four hours ago, and now everyone knows you're gay?" "Fuck off," I murmur. "Seriously, where'd you get all this time to come out of the closet?" He's teasing, but I can tell he's supportive. "I don't know," I say, finding myself laughing along with him. "It just kinda happened last night." "...And?" "And... I don't know," I repeat. "It was a way better conversation than the one I had with Pete." "'Better' as in 'good'?" he asks for clarification. "As in 'very good'," I say with a cheery smile. I wish I focused more on that today to help me forget about the Pete situation. Dad supports me, and still loves me. Sometimes, you can't ask for much more than that. "Well, I'd love to meet him someday," Danny says, and I nod affirmatively. In due time, big guy. He comes to a halt up against the curb of my front lawn, putting the car in park and then glancing at me. "Thanks for the ride," I tell him, undoing my seatbelt so that I can lean in to give him a goodbye kiss. Our lips meet briefly before I pull away. "Wait," he says just as my fingers grab the door handle. I eye him suspiciously, wondering what that wary expression of his is. "I wanna talk to you real quick." "What about?" I ask, almost hesitating. Automatically, my body is bracing for... something. He bites his lip a bit before letting go of the steering wheel and leaning back against his seat with a sigh. "Don't get mad, alright?" he asks. Fuck. "What?" He grimaces as he speaks, talking slowly. "Theoretically, what would you do if we moved?" I blink, confused. "Huh?" I ask. What the fuck is he talking about? Moving? Does he want me to move somewhere, or...? "Jess got a job offer out of town," he says. "A really good job, too, and I kinda wanted to see where your head--" "Where?" He finally looks over at me. "Where what?" "Where is it?" I ask impatiently. "Where are you moving?" He winces before muttering, "Philly." I feel something shift in my stomach, immediately making me nauseous. "But that's... that's like six hours away." "Six hours and fifty-one minutes, give or take," he corrects me, smiling sadly at me. "I checked." For a moment, everything freezes. My chest hurts. A second ago, I was the happiest boy on the planet, and now, the very thing that makes me so happy is threatening to be taken from me. "You can't be serious," I mutter aloud. I think Danny senses the disbelief in my voice, because he reaches over and touches my knee. "I know, Jax. But this doesn't mean that I want to give--" "You're leaving me?" Danny's an expert in patience when it comes to me, I've realized, because his voice remains level even when I interrupt him or say something selfish. "I'm not breaking up with you, if that's what you're asking," he says. "I don't wanna break up with you. But you're not the only thing I have to consider, Jax." "But you're leaving me, right?" I ask again, feeling a level of panic I haven't felt before. Anger, I'm used to. But this? This is totally foreign to me. I feel weak, and helpless. "I'm a father," he says gently, "and if Riley--" "Jess can take Riley!" I interrupt, the desperation rising. "Why do you have to go?" "He's my kid, too," he says, narrowing his eyes a bit. Clearly I offended him, which just makes me feel even more embarrassed. Eventually, he sighs and rubs his forehead. "Look, Jax. Nothing's official yet, but I just wanted to know whether or--" "I gotta go," I mumble, grabbing onto the door handle at record-speed before sliding out of the car. "Jax!" Danny calls, but I ignore him. I just grab my backpack, slam his door shut, and briskly walk up to the front door. Every ounce of me is in protest of this moment. Every piece of me wants to break down, or explode, or cry in a million different ways. I need to hide. I'll go up to my room, lock myself in there, and play music so loud I won't be able to hear myself think. I won't let myself speculate the future -- a future without Danny, who I've become so attached to. Am I really about to lose him? He says he doesn't want to break up with me, but a six-hour chasm could keep us apart. My plans to sulk are put on hold when I find Mom in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. "Where were you?" she asks as soon as I enter the house. "Out," I say bitterly, already gearing up for a fight. I'm right on the edge, Mom. Fucking test me. But she's not demanding my whereabouts. In fact, her tone is soft rather than accusatory. "Pete stopped by," she says. That makes me pause, almost forgetting about Danny. "He did?" I ask, surprised. "Says you guys got into a fight, and he wanted to talk," she says, glancing over at me. "Everything okay with you two?" I just shrug, unsure what to say. Was he upset? Maybe pissed off? Eager to exact revenge via a sucker punch to the jaw? "You know," she says, setting her knife down and turning to face me, "if you ever need to talk, I'm here too." "I know," I mumble, wondering if I truly believe that. I think in my heart, I do. I'm just overwhelmed right now. She inhales before sighing. "I don't want to fight with you, Jax. I'm not here to fight. I love you. You know that, right?" I look down at my feet. Maybe I give her a harder time than she deserves. When we get along, it's great, but when we don't, we clash completely. That's just the nature of our relationship. "I know, Mom," I say in a low voice. Please don't hug me. I'll break. Thankfully, she leaves it at that, returning to her cutting board and leaving me to head upstairs to my room to settle. As soon as I get to my room, I turn up the stereo as loud as it goes. I don't even care if Mom complains. I don't have headphones (because I broke them in a minor fit of rage), so the speakers will have to be used. After tossing my backpack to the floor, I crawl into bed, covers and all, waiting for the breakdown to hit me. But the tears don't come. I wait for them to. I feel like it'd be the release that I need, but they don't come. What *does* come is Pete, nearly an hour after I get home. I don't even hear him knock on the door because the music is so loud -- the door just opens and there he is. I sit up in surprise, putting my phone down, quickly searching for any sign of hostility, any indication that he'll want to fight. But he looks oddly soft, which is very uncharacteristic of him. He gestures towards the stereo almost in confusion, wordlessly asking if he should turn it down. I just nod to give him the go-ahead, watching him head over to the speakers and turn the dial almost fully counterclockwise. Now, with the music at a minimum, I'm aware of how quiet the room is -- and how tense. Pete sure looks more uncomfortable than I feel, though, so that keeps me from shaking from anxiety. "Hey," he says, glancing at me. "What are you doing here?" I try not to sound so demanding, but the words just come out that way. "I think we need to talk," he says, hands in his pockets. "Why?" I murmur. He just stares at me for a moment. "Because you're my fucking best friend, dude," he says before coming over to join me on the bed. He sits on the edge, looking at me hard. "I wanna know what's going on." I swallow thickly. Suddenly, now that we're alone in my private space, I feel far more nervous. But I remind myself that Pete came here. Maybe there's a chance for us, at least. "I'm gay," I blurt out. Again, Pete gives me that look as if he's seeing me for the first time, recalculating or something. "And you're serious? You're not just, like, yanking my dick or anything?" I roll my eyes. "No, dude. I don't want your dick." Pete pauses before he bursts out laughing, catching onto my joke. "Why, am I not good enough for you?" he teases. I guess the laughter is better than anger, so I smile a little. "You're not my type, sorry," I say. Pete's a decent looking guy, no doubt about that. But my preferred sexuality is "anonymous" -- or *was*, before I met Danny. He chuckles, nodding in understanding before his smile disappears. Now he looks curious. "How long have you known?" I shrug. "Couple years? I don't know." I don't know why I lie, since I know the exact moment I thought I might be gay. I was eleven, discovering porn for the first time, spending nearly an entire Tuesday night scouring the internet for sexual content. At 4AM, I started realizing that the women's bodies did nothing for me. The men, though... "Shit, dude," he says. "We've been friends forever, bro. Why didn't you tell me?" I scoff. "Are you kidding?" I ask, and when he looks at me like he doesn't understand, I almost start berating him -- almost. I'm try doing a little thing Danny taught me: exercising patience. "You're not that easy to talk to, Pete." "The fuck does that mean?" he asks, surprised. "You bulldoze every fuckin' conversation," I tell him. "*And* you call everyone fags and shit." "It's a fuckin' joke, dude," he tries to explain. I just will myself to stare him down. "Not to me." He keeps trying to pass it off as no big deal. "I'd never call you that, Jax. Come on." "You *have* called me that," I point out. "That was the whole fucking reason I wailed on you." "But I didn't know!" he says, eyes wide. I just sigh. He thinks his ignorance makes him innocent, which, in a way, I understand. Patience. "Well, now you do," I say simply. He just looks at me for a while, the wheels turning in his head. Then, he stammers with his words before clearing his throat and then murmuring, "I'm sorry." My eyebrows raise so high it feels like they might touch my hairline. I've never known Pete to apologize for anything, and here he is, actually sounding sincere. "I know I'm a bulldozer," he says, "but that's just how I am, and you're gonna have to accept that." I actually laugh, feeling a little lighter. "I'll try my best," I murmur. He smiles at me before looking worried. "We cool?" "*I* am," I say, in a way that makes it obvious that I'm questioning whether or not he is. I'm just worried, and I want him to squash that worry for good. "I am too," he says. "You're my bro, Jax. I'm not gonna stop being friends with you just 'cause you're queer now." "Don't say 'queer'," I mutter, almost laughing. "What?" he asks innocently. "That's what you are, right?" "Just say 'gay'," I say, rubbing my hand in my face. "Actually, just don't even mention it." Pete chuckles a bit, nodding to himself. "Noted," he says before running his hands up and down his thighs. "So, question... Is that dude really your boyfriend?" Great. Now that we're on the subject of Danny, my mood is shifting back towards the negative. I just nod. "Yeah." "Shit, dude. One of us has finally locked it down," he says with a cheeky grin before smiling more amicably. "I wanna meet him. You know, for real this time." I sigh a little before shrugging. "Well, you might not be able to," I mutter. "Why not?" I stare at him as I debate whether or not I even want to go down this road. In the end, I decide to spill. "He might move to Philly." "No way!" Pete says, looking almost outraged. "That fucking sucks, dude." It's nice to hear someone else mimic what I'm feeling in such simple terms. Yeah, it sure does fucking suck. "Are you guys breaking up?" I shrug. "He doesn't want to, I guess, but long distance?" "Long distance is shit," Pete murmurs, shaking his head. Pete may be a bit crazy, but he's not one to hide his volatile emotions -- and it comforts me to see him react how I would. But then, he looks at me. "You gonna be okay?" I don't know what it is about his words, or his tone, but I break. I just shake my head, and when Pete frowns, I feel that first tear escaping my eye. "I love him," I murmur. I've never said it out loud, because I wasn't sure I did until this very moment. But there it is. I love Danny. I must, considering how tender I feel. Sure, we talked about this literally yesterday, and maybe we haven't been dating *that* long, but we have a connection, a strong fucking connection that's chemical and emotional, and no other word would make sense. The little voice of doubt makes me wonder if I've just attached myself to the first guy that's showed true interest in me, but I don't think that's the case. If there's one good piece of advice Markeith has ever given me, it's that sometimes, you just know. You know what you want, and you know what you need. He and my mother are madly in love, and they knew it right from the get-go. Is it immature of me to wonder why that can't that be me and Danny? Fuck, it's so complicated, though. I'm only sixteen, and he has a fucking child, and there are so many hoops we'd have to jump through to really be together -- but I'm willing to jump through those hoops. I'm willing to be patient and to lie to people and to get uncomfortable if it means we can be together. I love him. I love his scraggly, misshapen facial hair. I love his stupid, boyish laugh. I love the way his accent comes out more when it's just the two of us lying in bed, talking about our dreams and our worries and our regrets and our excitements. I love the gross way he picks at his ears with his pinkie finger. I love his terrible fashion sense, and the way he smells, and how bright his smile gets when he sees me. I love that he doesn't coddle me, that he challenges the way I think about myself, that he teaches me how to be a better person without telling me that I'm bad. I fucking love him. I don't cry openly. I just feel a few unwanted tears stream down my cheeks. For a moment, I feel weak being this vulnerable in front of Pete -- but he reaches over and pats my knee, and I can't help but feel relieved to have him openly in my corner. Danny and I talk sparingly over the next few days. He knows I'm upset, and we both keep skirting around the "issue" -- which just makes our text conversations seem forced, or silly, or, in a way, pointless. The fact that Danny seems upset too is some bit of consolation, I guess: it means he really does want to stay with me. But could I handle a distance relationship? I've gotten so used to having him within reach that I don't know how I'd cope without him. I suppose I have to be thankful for the people closest to me: namely Pete and my dad. Pete has come around way more than I ever expected him to. He's still the same brash, loud, overbearing friend, but after coming out to him, I realize that his heart is in the right place. He's not a bad guy, and he only wants what's best for me. And my dad? He's been checking in on me every day now. Usually we talk two or three times a week intermittently, but now, ever since I broke the "gay" news, he texts me throughout his work day asking how I am and such. For the most part, I just hit him with the easy "Fine" and avoid too many specifics, but it's still nice to be thought of so regularly -- even if he thinks I'm fragile (which, to be fair, I am). What cheers me up the most is when he asks me if I want him to take me out to dinner. I eagerly accept, always down for a free meal and happy to spend time with my father. We hit up our favorite diner a couple towns away, famous for their obscenely large but incredibly rich milkshakes. He always gets vanilla, but I'm a strawberry guy. We sip our thick shakes and devour our meals, swapping laughs while I make fun of my dad for flirting with the waitress or engage in smack talk about his coworkers and pro-athletes. It's just what I need to feel refreshed: light conversation. Just when I think he wasn't going to bring it up, on the ride home, Dad clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. "So, uh... We didn't talk much about, you know, what we discussed on Sunday," he mentions. "...What about it?" I ask tentatively. To be honest, I preferred when we didn't "talk much about it." We're so close to the house, so I figured it would just go unaddressed. "I don't know," he says, shrugging. "I just wanna know more." "What's there to say?" I ask. He starts listing off questions. "Have you known for a long time? Is it difficult? You seeing anyone? That sort of shit." I sigh. Guess I should satisfy his curiosity. It's either now or later, right? "Yes, yes, and yes," I say simply. He seems most intrigued by that last bit. "Really?" he asks, looking over at me with a smile. "You got a boyfriend or somethin'?" "Or somethin'," I say, unable to resist smiling in response to his goofy grin. "Atta boy," he says, chuckling and slapping my thigh. Then he pauses. "Wait... Pete?" "What?! *Fuck* no," I say forcefully, which just makes Dad let out a hearty laugh. "Someone else." "'Someone else'," he repeats, still half-chuckling. "Sounds mysterious." He gives me a cheeky grin before asking me to at least give him a name. "Danny." "Danny," he repeats, nodding. "What's he like?" I describe him in broad strokes: British, into soccer, works as a phlebotomist, parents own a hard cider business. "Don't get mad, but he's older," I mention. He glances at me, skeptical. "How much older?" I clear my throat before answering. "Twenty-one," I murmur, waiting for him to berate me. But he looks relieved. "That's not so bad," he comments. "Thought you were gonna say he's in his thirties and has a wife and kid or something." I gulp. "Well... he does have a kid." Dad looks wide-eyed for a second. "You serious?" "Yeah." "Jesus, Jax," he says, laughing a little and shaking his head. "I know." He sighs through his nose. "Well, you always were good with kids," he mentions, smiling again, and I blush a bit. Jesus, I could be a stepfather if Danny and I stay together. A fucking *dad*. "So you're good and happy, then?" Dad asks. "Mostly," I say before clearing my throat and looking out the window. "He might have to move, though." "Where?" "Far enough for us to have to break up, probably," I say bitterly before sighing. "I don't know what to do." Dad seems to pause in thought for a moment -- or maybe he's just focused on making a left turn in the midst of a busy intersection. Once we're speeding down the main road, he asks another question. "What's your first thought?" he asks. My first thought? I swallow. "That I should break it off with him so that he doesn't have to feel bad about leaving." "It's serious between you two, then?" I nod. "Kinda." "Just kinda?" I gulp before saying the words aloud again. "I love him," I murmur. That's twice now that I've pushed that out into the ether. "Really?" Dad asks, surprised. "You told him that?" I wince upon that realization. "Not explicitly," I mutter. I can understand Dad's disbelief, though. I rarely ever say those three words, least of all in a romantic sense. He looks over at me and smiles briefly. "Well, you should start there. Tell him how you feel," he says. "The rest will fall into place, buddy. Trust me." I want to trust Dad, but I'm afraid it won't be enough. As much as I want Danny to stay, I don't want to be a burden to him. He has a kid, for Christ's sake -- a kid who probably needs his mom just as much as he needs his dad. So how do I tell him that I need him too? Just a minute later, we arrive back at Mom's -- and I nearly curl up when I see Danny's car parked in front of the yard. Dad veers into the driveway, asking whose car that is, but I'm so stunned that I don't answer at first. "Shit," I murmur. Dad parks, and I feel his eyes on the back of my head. "What?" "It's Danny." "Really?" he mutters, and I hear him shifting in his seat to try to get a look. "I should go," I whisper as if Danny could hear me. I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for dinner, Dad." "Any time, Chief," he says. Then, in a loud voice: "Tell him you love him!" I glare at him as I slide out of his car, muffling his laughter by shutting the door. He just waves back at me, and reluctantly, I give him a little wave in return before he backs out of the driveway and speeds away, leaving me alone. When I glance over at Danny's parked car, he emerges from the driver's seat, wearing a jacket over casual clothes that he places his hands inside. Slowly, he walks towards me -- and I feel my body itching to hug him. I don't move, though. Danny does all the work, walking right up to me in the middle of my driveway. "Hey," I mutter. He smiles gently. "Hey." He takes one of his hands and rubs the back of his neck with it. "I tried calling, but no answer," he says. "Sorry. My phone died," I tell him -- which is the truth. I forgot to charge it before going out with my father. "It's okay," he says, looking me up and down. "I just wanted to see you, is all." I swallow. "Okay." Why do I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach? "I missed you." And why do I feel like I'm bound to cry? "I missed you too," I murmur. He stares at me for a while before saying, "She didn't get the job." It takes a minute for me to register what he just said. She didn't get the job. She as in "Jess," as in "Danny isn't moving." She didn't get the fucking job. I think because I expected the worst, the news hits me in slow motion -- and I smile, unable to pretend like I'm not immensely, wholeheartedly relieved. Hell, I feel so much lighter, all of a sudden. "So I'm stuck with you a little longer?" I joke, mostly just to deflect a little excitement. Danny laughs. "As long as you wanna be stuck with me," he says. I notice his eyes looking me up and down before meeting mine again. "Riley misses you, too." "Give him a kiss for me when you see him next." He smiles at me, and I smile at him, and we do nothing but smile at each other for nearly half a minute. "For fuck's sake, hug me," he finally mutters, and I step forward, embracing him hard. I bury my face into his neck, inhaling his perfect scent, feeling indescribably warm and safe in his arms. This is right. Almost feels like home. "I feel like we're good together, you know?" Danny says, practically in my ear. "Mhm," I murmur, breathing him in a little deeper. "I wanna make this work, Jax. But you have to understand that I'm a father, and I'd do anything for my son." "I know," I mumble into his neck, not yet ready to let go. "But... that doesn't mean I'm giving up on us. On this." He pulls back slightly to press his forehead against mine and lets his voice adopt a softer, lower tone. "I can't give you up," he says. "I won't. Not yet, at least," he adds with a teasing grin. I laugh softly, lightly punching him in the side, my face flushed. This is the time, isn't it? The moment? I can practically hear Dad encouraging me to let it spill, to trust him and let it all "fall into place" or whatever he said. So, I take a deep breath and let the words flow out of me. "I love you, you know," I whisper back. With my eyes focused on his mouth, I watch as more and more of his teeth come into view. He's smiling -- hard. "What?" "Don't make me say it again," I tell him, clutching onto his jacket. "Just one more time," he asks. He leans in and nudges his lips against mine, not yet kissing me though. "Please?" Fuck it. "I love you," I murmur, biting my lip. He lets my words hang in the air before he leans in and kisses me deeply, holding me close. I sigh with my whole body, feeling that sweet sense of release. This is the closest thing to fireworks I'll ever know, I'm pretty sure: that shocking relief, the feeling of being vulnerable and then being rewarded for it. And then, to top it off, he whispers my words back at me after breaking the kiss. "I love you too, Jax." I believe him. I believe he's sincere, because we both have had to face the fact that we almost were separated. We both realized we want this, need this, love this -- and as I rope Danny back in for more deep, impassioned kisses, I know that we're in this together. No matter what, we'll make it work. - The End -