Date: Sun, 15 Sep 2019 10:56:53 -0400
From: RJ <ruetheben@gmail.com>
Subject: You Get What You Paid For - Ch. 5

You Get What You Pay For
by RJ

This fictional story is about the developing relationship between two
strangers: an escort and his client.

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
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~ Chapter 5 ~

When Adam realizes I've stopped following him, he turns and laughs at my
stunned expression. "Ted?"

I just stare. "*This* is where you wanted to take me?" I ask, happy I let
him convince me to at least wear a button-up and the nicest jeans I own. I
was perfectly content slumming it in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but with
Adam dressed in some crisp, belted, form-fitting slacks and the most
luxurious-looking black crewneck I have ever seen, it was clear this date
was going to be special.

"Yes," he says, walking back over to me. With a smile, he slides his hand
down to mine and locks our fingers together. "C'mon."

I let him pull me further down the dock towards the plank that leads up to
the deck of a yacht -- a fucking *yacht*. He said he wanted to take me
somewhere simple, but either he has some wild notions about simplicity or
he was just teasing me. It's beautiful, though. Since it's nighttime,
crossed strings of hanging lights illuminate the deck with a soft, romantic
glow. Cushioned benches line most of the perimeter of the back, all
decorated with throw pillows and more ropes of lights wrapped around the
railings. There's a small table with a cooler of what looks to be champagne
placed in the center, surrounded by skinny white candles. And is that
music? Jazz? It's soft, and I can't tell exactly where it's coming from --
but it's the perfect volume for me to feel relaxed.

"Is this... yours?" I ask, bewildered. I wasn't aware he owned a damn
yacht.

"Well... No," Adam says with a laugh, letting go of my hand so I can look
around. "It belongs to one of my friends from work, so be nice to the yacht
or I'll have hell to pay."

Jesus, who knew being an escort would be this
lucrative. "It's... impressive," I say, eyeing how immaculate everything
looks.  "Yeah?" Adam asks. "Not too much?"

Surprisingly, no. When I look past the fact that it's a yacht, it has a
quaint sort of feel to it. It doesn't look like it'd be the type of yacht
to feature a frat party. Something intimate and classy seems more
fitting. "It's great," I say, looking back at him with a smile.

"Good." He smiles back at me for a soft moment before a thought pops into
his head. "Oh! Champagne!" he says, heading right over to the table. I
chuckle at him before I head to the very back of the boat, standing in
front of the railing and looking off into Lower Bay, watching the way the
moon and the lights on the yacht reflect off the water. Adam dragged me all
the way to Staten Island for our "first real date", and I'm glad he did. A
quiet night on the water, with no one else in sight? It's quite romantic of
him.

He comes up behind me stealthily enough to sneak a kiss on my neck, and I
chuckle a bit, turning towards him as he stands next to me and offers me a
glass. I take it, mouth watering at the sight of the bubbly champagne as I
start to bring the drink to my lips. But Adam stops me. "You're supposed to
do cheers, first," he says.

I cock and eyebrow. "Is that escort tradition or something?" I joke.

"That's an everywhere tradition. Get with it," he says, grinning at me
before clearing his throat and standing up straighter. "I'll keep it short
'n sweet: cheers to... further exploring what we already have."

It may be a short toast, but it hits me in the best way. I feel my chest
almost humming to me, vibrating softly, contentedly. I smile gently. "That
was kinda beautiful," I admit, reaching over to gently tug on his shirt.

"You're supposed to say 'Cheers'," he mutters playfully.

I roll my eyes, clinking my glass against his. "Cheers, you idiot," I say.

He laughs as he brings the rim of his glass to his lips and gulps down some
of the champagne. I do the same, the fizz tickling as it goes down my
throat. "So," Adam says, "the plan is to relax and enjoy the evening. Hope
you're okay with that."

"I'm very okay with that," I tell him, smiling brightly.

"I figured," he says with a grin. "I'm having dinner delivered, so it
should be here in..." -- he checks his phone quickly -- "well, any minute
now."

"Delivered, huh?"

"Yup. We're having Fijian albacore sashimi and a pea tendril salad topped
with glazed hazelnuts and drizzled with an agrie-doux melon cilantro
vinaigrette."

I stare at him blankly, completely pausing. "Seriously?" I ask, wondering
if my face gives away the fact that I understood basically nothing that he
just said.

But turns out he was joking. He breaks his deadpan presentation of that
joke with a laugh. "No," he says chuckling to himself. "I got pizza."

"Oh, thank God," I say with a sigh of intense relief, laughing before I
push his chest. "You really fucking had me." He knows pretentious-,
expensive-sounding meals scare me, and I was afraid that he took this whole
"official first date" thing too far.

"I know you don't like all that fancy nonsense," he says, "so I figured
we'd keep it simple."

I smile gently, appreciating that he understands me -- though I do want to
tease him a bit. "Having a moonlit dinner on a yacht is simple?"

"A 'Thank you' would suffice," he says with a grin.

I bite my lip, tugging on his gold chain playfully. "Thank you, Adam."

"You're welcome, Teddy," he says softly, looking me up and down with a
grin. "You look handsome tonight."

"You said that already," I say with a little smile.

"And I'm saying it again. You look damn handsome."

I bite my lip a bit, trying not to grin too widely. "But do I look
kissable?" I ask coyly.

Adam laughs gently, staring at me for a soft moment before his eyes flicker
to my hand. Then, he reaches forward to take my champagne from me. He sets
both of our glasses calmly on the table before coming back to me with a
sultry expression on his face. I swallow thickly as he gets close enough to
reach forward, hold my sides, and press me against the railing as he pushes
his lips against mine.

Like with every kiss between me and Adam, I melt. I feel that warmth spread
over me like thick honey, from my lips to my damn toes. I hold my hands on
his arms, sighing softly through my nose as we kiss back and forth like a
waltz, keeping measured time, responding to every move in perfect
synchrony, slow and sexy. His head leans into me more, just lightly bending
me back against the railing as he feeds me a soft nudge of his tongue. My
lips instinctively part, inviting him in, and me hums softly when he enters
my mouth. I let my hands work on auto-pilot, feeling them slide up his arms
and across his shoulders, one of which gets into his impossibly-soft
hair. I stroke, and comb, and tug, and he grunts softly, only giving me
more tongue -- enough for me to catch between my lips and softly suck.

Then, we hear a voice coming from the dock. "Hello?"

Adam groans against my lips before pulling back slowly, smiling and keeping
close. "That's probably the pizza," I say, laughing gently as I run my
palms over his chest.

"We'll pick this up later," he murmurs before pecking my lips again and
then turning towards the dock. "Up here!" Adam shouts, giving my ass a firm
squeeze. I slap his hand away just as our delivery guy waltzes up the
plank, looking around with intrigue before his eyes settle on us. "Looking
for me?" Adam asks with a charming tone.

"Are you, uh..." The kid glances at the receipt. "Adam?"

"That I am," he says, sliding away from me. He walks up to our delivery guy
to take the box from him. After tipping him handsomely, he sends the boy on
his way and places the pizza on the table, lifting the lid with a
grin. "Well, here we are," he says. "One simple cheese pizza, since you're
boring and don't like toppings."

"Don't be mean," I say defensively, coming over to him, slightly aroused by
that alluring aroma. I stand next to him, up against his side, and kiss his
cheek as he looks down at the pizza with a playfully disdainful look. "At
least I like tops," I tease.

That makes him laugh heartily, reaching around me to paw at my ass
again. "Thank God you do," he says with a grin before he steals another
kiss from me, simply turning his face towards mine and leaning his head
forward to make our lips meet. He hums softly into the kiss, and when I
pull back, he smiles to himself. "Damn, Teddy," he murmurs. "You very well
might be my second favorite kisser."

I snort. "Second?"

"Maybe third," he says with a teasing grin. "You're at least tied for
second."

I roll my eyes but wrap my arms around him, my chin on his shoulder. "Who
do I have to kill to get first place, then?"

He chuckles. "Lacey," he says dreamily. "Older woman. Was widowed twice,
the poor thing. But she loved to go out to these classy, pompous art
events, and she always needed some arm candy."

"That's where you came in, huh?"

"You're damn right," he says cheekily. "She might be old, but that girl
knows how to use her lips."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, envisioning Adam swapping spit with some woman
who just put her dentures in.

Adam just laughs, putting his arm around my waist. "Second place is good,
Teddy," he teases.

I shrug. "Considering the amount of people you've kissed?" I tease. "You're
right."

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. "You calling me a slut?"

"I am," I say with a tender grin, leaning in a little more. "But you're my
slut now."

"Mmm," he hums, giving me a little roll of his tongue and causing us both
to laugh. "I like the sound of that."

We both sit down, knees touching under the table as we dive into the
pizza. Apparently I'm starving because I practically inhale three slices
right off the bat before I even consider taking my time, going through an
ungodly number of napkins to wipe the grease off my hands. After my third
slice, I feel that satisfied weight in my stomach, licking my lips and
smiling at Adam.

"Hey, thanks for taking me out tonight," I say to him.

He smiles mid-bite before chewing slowly. "Of course," he says after
swallowing. "You needed it."

Damn right, I did. I desperately needed some Adam-time after the emotional
strife I put myself through breaking things off with Jackson two days
ago. God, what a difficult conversation that was -- mostly because I
couldn't stop crying. Once Jackson hit me with a terribly confused look
after I told him we shouldn't see each other anymore, I broke down. He
didn't deserve that. Jackson was nothing but good to me to the very
end. Even as I was attempting to break up with him, he was consoling
*me*. How fucked up is that? Jackson didn't seem that heartbroken -- he was
upset, because he liked me a lot, but our time together was at least short
enough for his heart not to be ripped to pieces by my inconsiderate
fingers. So that's at least some solace. But still, I found it oddly
difficult to stand by my decision. After Jackson left my apartment, I spent
the rest of the day cuddling Maxi and wondering if I did the right thing,
if I made the right choice, if I was being sane in thinking that I deserve
a happy life with the fucking straight boy.

I talked it over a lot with Adam beforehand (after a much-needed round of
sex). He tried to make it clear that, if Jackson was what I wanted, he
would back off. But I could tell he would hate that. He already was upset
with himself for waiting too long considering I had found someone else in
the meantime. But Jackson was an obstacle. That's how he described him,
once: as an obstacle. In a way, it helped hearing him refer to my now
ex-boyfriend as such, because it put things into perspective for me. It
somewhat confirmed that he really *does* want me.

"How you feeling now?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I still feel bad," I admit, glancing at Adam. I slide my hand
over to his, nudging his fingers with my knuckles. "But I'm happy to be
here. Honest."

He smiles gently and then leans over to kiss me. "I know it was a lot."

I scoff. "Kinda."

"But I want to prove to you that you made the right choice," he says,
squeezing my hand.

Part of me wants to say that he already has, because, with each passing
minute, I feel more and more validated by him, sure of him. But I'm excited
to see what the future holds for us. I've made the choice. I'm invested in
this. I'm invested in us, and I let him know by smiling at him, giving his
hand a tender squeeze back in appreciation.

"So," he says, taking another quick sip of his champagne. "Maybe it's kinda
early, but... this technically isn't our first date, right?"

I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. "Sure?"

"So... I've got a question for you."

I laugh. "And I've got an answer."

He smiles slightly. "Would you like to come home with me?"

I snort. Come home with him? We just came from his apartment. We just
*fucked* at his apartment before coming here. Hell, I still have a load of
his cum in me. "That's your question?"

He looks confused by my reaction before he laughs. "No, not like, my
apartment," he says. "My home. In Connecticut."

I blink. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says, giving my knee a squeeze. "I want you to meet my family."

I smile softly. I guess it is sort of a big deal. "Your grandparents?"

"And my brother, yes," he says with a nod.

The Sullivans. Even if his grandparents are old-fashioned and have a lot of
iffy, antiquated ideologies, he speaks very highly of them. After all, they
raised him and his brother without complaint. "I'd love to meet them," I
say with a nervous smile. The notion that he wants to bring me deeper into
his circle is exciting, but the concept of a family always rattles me. I
wish I had a family to introduce him to as well. I guess I technically do
-- but none of my biological family matters to me. There's only one man I
consider family now. "I'd like you to meet Clark, too," I tell him.

"Ah, the man himself," Adam says with a cheeky grin. "I gotta thank him in
person."

I laugh. "For what?"

"Taking care of you." I blush slightly before I look away, smiling to
myself, finding that to be an incredibly sweet sentiment. "What?" Adam
asks.

"Nothing," I say, resting my hand over his under the table. Then I laugh
slightly. "You know, I'm just still surprised you want a guy like me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I just bite my lip in response.

"Nuh uh," he says, grinning and leaning in. "No doing that self-deprecating
thing."

"It's not like that," I say, and when he gives me a skeptical look, I touch
his arm. "I promise."

"What is it then?"

"I'm just..." I look him up and down. "You're just so out of my league."

He lets out a laugh that's a mix between a scoff and an amused
chuckle. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not saying I'm ugly," I tell him before he starts berating me on my
low self-esteem. "But I'm not like... well... *hot*."

He rolls his eyes before staring at me. "I'm gonna tell you something,
Teddy. You ready?"

I try not to look so amused. "No," I tease.

But he presses on. "Me being attractive is none of my business."

I stare at him for a few moments, attempting to let that sink in. "I don't
get it."

"Meaning, *you* shouldn't worry about what you look like. *You* don't have
to fuck you. I do." He hits me with a devilish sort of grin. "And I like
fucking you, in case you haven't noticed." He reaches over and strokes my
chin. "*I* like what I see, Teddy. So trust *me*. K?"

I sigh through my nose. I didn't really expect him to understand how
someone would feel inferior next to him, but he sure does do a damn good
job of making me feel like I am enough. "Okay."

"Plus," he adds, dazzling me with a toothy grin, "despite you being
handsome, I like *you*." He emphasizes that point by poking me in the
chest, right above my heart. "A guy like you is exactly the kind of person
I want to be with. Funny, intelligent, warm-hearted, damaged goods--"

"Fuck you," I say, laughing because I know that latter one is a joke. He
grins as I grab his shirt and tugging him to me. Our lips meet tenderly,
and we kiss gently back and forth for a few moments. "I like you, too."

"Obviously," he says, and when I give him a faux-offended look, he bursts
out laughing before pushing the pizza box closer to me. "Alright. Enough
talking. Eat."

We spend the entire night out on the yacht. Once we finish the pizza, we
take the bottle of champagne and set up a little picnic on the deck so that
we can lie down and pretend like we can see the stars. Even if we cut all
the lights, the atmosphere is still a bit hazy, but we can vaguely see
those little lights peppering the night sky. For the most part, Adam is
true to his word: we lie down, relax, talk, and cuddle (aside from when I
give him head, but only because I was "craving dessert"). As we relax
together, we don't even have to speak for me to get a sense of
calm. Everything is fine. Everything will be okay.




As the tires run over the gravel, I start to feel nervous. What was I
thinking, meeting Adam's grandparents? They're probably just like my
parents: pleasant until they find out about my sexuality, something they
consider a betrayal of what they so deeply believe in. They'll turn on
me. I can feel it. It's making my breathing become labored.

But Adam seems as cheery as ever, not yet attuned to my shifting
anxiety. "Here we are," he says brightly, slowly winding through the
snake-like driveway. Gradually, his childhood home comes into view. It's a
quaint little place that can only be described as grandmotherly, from the
cutesy structural elements to the diverse and colorful gardens lining the
foundation. It's that classic, small, old-American home that automatically
brings the smell of apple pie to my senses. I can picture it so clearly,
sitting on the open windowsill to cool off, the scent luring boys like
myself in.

"Beautiful home," I say, eyeing the gardens in particular.

"Yeah, my grandmother is practically a beautician on all fronts," he says
with a little chuckle before parking his car behind a tattered Jeep. Then,
he cuts the engine before looking at me. "Okay, so... Quick thing."

I cock my eyebrow but nod.

"Maybe don't mention *how* we know each other," he says.

"Oh." I gulp a bit, but I find that perfectly understandable -- and
frankly, that relieves me to hear. Of all the things that could ruin their
image of me, the fact that I once was his client could be the most
damning. I try to come up with a work-around. "What if you just say we met
online?"

But he shakes his head. "No, they're old-school. I'll never hear the end of
it." He sighs slightly. "Maybe we can come up with something more
romantic," he says, "like... we live in the same apartment building... or
we met at that place you like. The High Line."

"So you want me to lie already?" I say, slightly amused but getting me
increasingly nervous.

He opens his mouth to speak before shutting it and laughing. "I don't
know. I guess if we just say 'online', it's not a lie. The escort part is
off the table, though."

I reach my hand over and touch his thigh. "Are you sure they'd be okay with
you dating a guy?" I ask again. Every time I've brought it up, he always
only says one word: "Sure". He never says it with much conviction,
either. It's always loosely tossed my way as to temporarily nullify my
worries.

"I mean... Okay, probably not," he admits, "but who cares?"

I blush. So there it is, exactly what I fucking feared. "Adam..."

"What?"

"I can't do this."

Adam frowns, leaning into me a bit. "We talked about this, babe. You'll be
fine."

"I'm not worried about me," I say, even though that's a lie. I expressed to
him my ingrained fear of coming out to anybody's parents, let alone those
of people I've dated. It took months of convincing me to meet Miguel's
folks, and he'd been completely accepted by his family *before* he even
officially came out. "I just can't be the reason your
grandparents... disown you or something."

He looks at me like I'm being silly. "That's not going to happen, Teddy."

"It could," I tell him. "It happened to me."

He sighs softly, looking at me for a few moments. Then, he reaches up to
hold the back of my head as he leans in and kisses me. We just hold that
position for a few moments, my hand gingerly caressing his wrist until he
pulls back. "I don't want you to stress about this."

"I stress," I say with a smile. "That's what I do best."

He grins a bit before taking several seconds to think. "What if," he
suggests, "I introduce you as... my very good friend?"

I smile, a little relieved. "Okay." This lie I can condone. Plus, it's not
necessarily a lie, is it? Underneath it all, we're still friends on some
level.

"Okay," he says with a decided nod, pulling away from me to take his
seatbelt off. "Good friend, it is."

We grab our overnight bags from the trunk before heading up to the front
door. Without even knocking, Adam just turns the knob and waltzes right
in. As soon as we step inside, we find ourselves in an unsurprisingly
quaint living room, nearly overrun with bric-à-brac and photos, all
surrounding an older woman who's knitting in her rocking chair while
something black-and-white plays on the television.

She turns her head towards us, looking polished and done-up, and the first
thing she says is: "You're early!" She gives Adam a disdainful look, as if
he couldn't have done a worse thing.

Adam just laughs. "And that's a problem why?" he asks, shutting the door
behind me.

"I wanted to have dinner ready for when you arrived," she says, hoisting
herself up from her rocking chair and waddling over with her arms
outstretched. It's sort of amusing watching a woman practically half Adam's
height impatiently gesturing for her grandson to hug her, but it's
heartwarming to see the way she smiles when they embrace. She's quite
pretty, Adam was right. She must dye her shoulder-length hair that
not-quite-blonde color, and she wears a minimal amount of makeup, but she
looks damn good for being in her late 80s.

"We can help with dinner, then," Adam says, giving her an extra
squeeze. "Also, hi," he adds with a laugh.

"Yes, hi, hello," his grandmother says, patting his back before her eyes
shift towards me. "You must be Teddy."

"That's me," I say, wondering how we should handle this
introduction. Thankfully, she's a take-charge sort of woman and shuffles
over to me next, opening her arms for a hug and a warm smile.

"It's lovely to meet you," she says as she presses the side of her face
against my chest.

I smile, already feeling welcomed. "You too," I say back. Then I hit her
with something that's cliché but never fails to touch the hearts of the
elderly: "You have a lovely home."

"Oh, this old place?" she asks. "It's nothing." But I can tell by her smile
that she appreciates my compliment.

"Where's Pop and Simon?" Adam asks, glancing around for his grandfather and
older brother as we set our bags aside.

"Your grandfather's buying the fish for tonight. And Simon's chopping wood
still," she says, gesturing vaguely to the backyard. Adam told me about how
the most recent storm had knocked a couple trees down, so Adam's brother
took it upon himself to handle the clean-up.

"Might go say hi," Adam says, only glancing at me for a second. "I wanna
introduce him to Teddy."

"Well, then, here," Mrs. Sullivan says, having us follow her into the
kitchen. She grabs a tall glass from the cupboard before dropping in a few
ice cubes from the freezer and then filling it up with water. "Give this to
him," she says, handing Adam the glass. "He's probably parched. Been out
there all day."

"Sure thing."

The backyard is surprisingly immense, since it was hard to tell from the
front of the house whether or not the Sullivans even had a backyard. But
there are gardens upon gardens stretched out over their open lawn, and Adam
points them out to me individually: the fruit garden, the vegetable garden,
the herb garden, the mystery garden... Seems the Sullivans mostly live off
the land, but in a very upper-middle-class white-elderly way.

Towards the back edge of their property, where the woods begin, is Adam's
older brother, Simon, hacking away at a fallen tree with an axe. The closer
we get, the more I feel like Simon doesn't look like the type who'd be
living with his grandparents in his mid-thirties. From the side, he's just
as pretty as Adam is, but with less polish and more muscle. "Grizzly" is
the word that comes to mind. His body hair is evident, peeking out of that
sweat-stained tank top he's sporting.

"Simooon!" Adam calls out, and at the sound of his brother's voice, Simon
turns his head in confusion before smiling. Now that I'm done being
distracted by his lumberjack-jock hybrid of a body, I take in the features
of his face more -- and immediately, I know I'd be far more than willing to
be used by these two brothers. Hell, throw in the grandpa too. I've seen a
picture of him. Why are the Sullivan men all so damn handsome?

"Well, well, look who it is," Simon says with a grin, his deep voice
perfectly matching his physique. He runs his fingers over his dark stubble
as his eyes trail down to the glass of water in Adam's hand. "That for me?"

"Yup. I came bearing gifts," Adam says, extending the glass to Simon.

"Fuck, thanks," he says, dropping the axe and taking the glass. He
practically guzzles the entire thing down, water dripping down his angular
chin before he sighs happily and then smiles again. "I'd hug you, but--"

"Maybe later," Adam says with a laugh.

"So how you been, little brother?" he asks, and they both fall into some
brotherly conversation. I don't mind that I'm being completely ignored. I
get to take a moment to soak in the sight of them, fleshing out the
similarities and differences. Simon definitely *looks* like a matured
version of his brother, reminding me of that "emotionless strength"
category of some confident, masculine men. Adam's much brighter in his
expressions and, although he's not as ripped as his older brother, he has a
charming ease about his confidence that can't be matched.

"So, you're the boyfriend?" Simon asks me suddenly, extending his hand. He
laughs during the handshake -- probably because I look shocked. "Adam told
me."

I glance at Adam. "I didn't know you knew," I say to Simon, and Adam just
pretends to be occupied with the plane flying overhead.

"Don't worry," Simon says to Adam, "I'm not gonna tell Ma 'n Pop."

"I knew you wouldn't," Adam says with a smile, but I interject.

"What do you think they'd say?" I ask Simon, wanting a second opinion on
the matter.

Simon shrugs, giving it some thought for a second. "I'm not sure if they'd
say anything," Simon comments. "At least, not to your face," he adds while
grinning at his brother. "They hate arguing with you."

"Yeah, because I always win," Adam says with a laugh. Adam has such a
light, playful air about him when he disagrees with someone, even if it's a
serious debate.

"Well this is one of those discussions that's not really about winning,"
Simon says, scratching his head a bit. "It'll be a lot for them to take
in." Then he glances at me and starts mumbling. "I always warned him he'd
fall in love with one of his clients one day."

Adam hits him, but it's too late. I heard it. Guess he really *did* tell
Simon everything. "Yeah," I murmur, and even though Simon seems to not be
bothered by that detail, I'm still embarrassed.

We chat with Simon for a few minutes before leaving him to his
self-appointed task. We offered to help with dinner, anyway, so we start to
head back towards the house. Before we get back to the backdoor, though, I
stop Adam. "Why'd you tell Simon?"

He looks at me, confused. "He's my brother."

Considering I don't have a brother that I'm close with, I don't understand
his point. "So?"

"He doesn't care what I do," Adam says.

That doesn't seem like a good reason to tell him what he told him. "What
about *me*?" I ask. "It's more embarrassing for me than it is for you."

"How?"

"I'm the one who paid!" I say, slightly frustrated. Does he not see how
this whole situation could make me feel uncomfortable?

But of course, he just smiles. "Well, you wouldn't be the one who paid if
you'd just cash that damn check."

I roll my eyes. That fucking check. "I don't want it. I've told you that a
million times."

"Then you're still officially my client," he says, all coy until he sees my
very-unplayful expression. He reaches out and strokes my arm. "I'm sorry,
babe, I'm just teasing."

I shrug his hand off and sigh. "Just stop bringing it up," I mumble. He
just tugs on the hem of my shirt distractedly before, suddenly, a thought
sparks in his head. I can see the way it lights up his face, and he smiles
at me in an open-mouthed way. "What?" I ask hesitantly.

"I just had a brilliant idea."

"*What*?"

"What if," he says, stepping closer so that he's right in front of me,
hands on my sides, "we used that money for a little getaway vacation?"

I blink, taking pause. "A vacation?"

"Yeah," he says, smiling warmly. "Just you 'n me. Anywhere you wanna
go. We'll blow three grand on it."

"That's..." Dumb? Irresponsible? "Not a bad idea," I say, a smile forming
on my lips. Just the thought of going somewhere warm and sunny and relaxing
with Adam is making me feel less tense. If he doesn't want the money for
himself, we might as well use it for something together.

"Told you I'm brilliant," he says cheekily.

"You said the idea was brilliant, not you," I point out.

"Ouch," he says with a grin before leaning down to my face.

Playfully, I turn my lips away. "No."

"What?"

"I don't wanna kiss you," I lie.

He smirks. "*You* don't wanna kiss *me*?"

"Especially not when you say it like that," I say, poking him in the chest.

"Please?" he asks, laughing softly as he puts his forehead on mine. "Just
one little kiss."

I pretend like it's the last thing I want to do right now. "Fine. But one
is all you're gonna--" But he cuts me off, planting his lips firmly on
mine, holding the back of my head to keep us close. I melt into the kiss,
sighing, pleased, floating, lightly aroused. When our lips pull back, my
face feels warm, and I can't reel in my smile no matter how hard I try.

Before I can speak, Adam chuckles and slides his hand down to mine, locking
our fingers together just to give my hand a gentle squeeze. "C'mon," he
says, and, feeling completely brightened, I head inside with my boyfriend.




The rest of the night goes by fairly smoothly -- mostly because Adam's
grandmother seems to take quite a liking to me. I think it's because I lack
Adam's quickness to start playful fights. I'm much more of a
keep-the-peace-with-new-people kind of guy, and she appreciates it every
time I take her side on things (even though it's mostly just to teasingly
gang up on Adam). She seems particularly surprised to find that I'm
"single", too. First, she asks if I'm married, to which I tell her I'm
not. Then, she asks if I have a girlfriend. I hear Adam snickering behind
me as I say no again, and she just gives me a baffled look. "But you're so
cute!" she says, reaching a flour-coated hand to pinch my cheek. I just
blush and laugh.

That's when her husband shows up. My first impression of him is "fisherman"
-- half because of the rounded head shape, receded hairline, and the
scraggly grey beard that completely frames his face, and half because of
the giant cod wrapped in paper he's holding. He just has that weathered
look of a sailor, like some elderly chap whose first love was the sea. I
almost wish he looked like he was scowling to top off the caricature, but
he just has a permanent, gentle smile on his lips as he waltzes in and
peers at us through his tiny glasses, asking "Did anyone order fishes?"

Considering that eclectic sort of vibe he gave off right off the bat, I
would have thought he'd say more at dinner, but he's quieter than I
am. It's a bit amusing to see him sitting at the head of the table, smiling
like he just got some particularly nice news, eating his fish and rice and
bread slowly and carefully. Mrs. Sullivan is clearly the talker of the two,
serving as his headstrong, opinionated counterpoint. She's extremely
entertaining, has plenty of relevant and humorous anecdotes, and is quick
to deflect Adam's charm and jibes with witty retorts. Simon's more like his
grandfather only in the sense that he doesn't say much, but everything he
says has purpose, which I respect.

They all balance each other well, but what strikes me the most is how much
they love each other. It's evident in the looks they give each other, how
they anticipate when someone wants extra servings, in the soft, natural
expressions of physical contact... It's a very warm environment, so I'm
conflicted in my feelings. It's hard being engaged by and privy to this
dynamic. I always used to tell Miguel that being around his family, as
lovely as they are, always made me anxious as all hell. Even after he died,
they still tried to keep in contact with me, still tried to include me, but
it never felt right. I don't know if it was just a matter of me feeling
like I was unworthy or overstepping, but I always kept my distance from
anything with the word "family" attached: family cookouts, family dinners,
random, non-holiday excuses to get the family together... It just makes me
think of my own family.

What are they doing right now, I wonder? Are my parents sitting around a
similar table, chastising my little brother for eating more than his fair
share of bread, or my sister for texting at the table? She has probably
moved out by now, but some things don't change, and I'm sure she's always
on her phone even to this day. Why did she, at least, never reach out to
me? And what about my grandparents? Are they even alive still? Nana was
quite old. For all I know, she's probably buried six feet deep in that
shitty cemetery the rest of her family is in. Hell, *they* all probably
think that *I'm* dead, that "the AIDS" got to me. At the lowest points of
my addiction, I'm sure I imagined my death via overdose the same way they
pictured it: me in some nameless gutter of a perpetually rainy,
rat-infested alleyway, body lifeless but soul full of sin.

Their reaction to me coming out is what makes me uncomfortable with
families. It still scares me -- all of it. I'm scared by how much I like
the Sullivans already, scared by how invited they make me feel, and I'm
terrified that I'll get too roped into this feeling of inclusivity, that
I'll revel too much in the family dynamic, only to have it snatched away
from me.

I want to tell this all to Adam, as things wind down for the night and we
start getting ready for bed. I'm thinking about it deeply as I brush my
teeth in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, already having
changed into sleep shorts and an old t-shirt. It'd be nice to talk it out
with Adam, because I'm far too in my head, and I know it. All I'm doing is
asking myself one thing: is it too risky to hope that this will all work
out for me and that I won't ruin something special?

Someone knocks on the bathroom door, and after I mumble "Come in"
mid-brush, I see that it's Adam. He smiles softly as he enters shirtless,
only wearing sweatpants and that little gold chain that dangles from his
neck at all times.

"Okay, so here's the deal," he says, keeping his voice low. His
grandparents are just down the hall and have been asleep for an hour, so we
have to keep quiet. "I don't want you sleeping on the couch. I could whip
out the air mattress, but honestly? It's super old and extra-super
uncomfortable."

I'm grateful he's figuring out a way to avoid me sleeping on the couch,
because it's far too small for a grown man to make a bed out of it. I spit
into the sink, quickly rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth. "So...?"

"So," he says, crossing his arms, "just sleep with me."

I stuff my toothbrush back into its Ziploc bag, eyeing him. "You want me to
sleep in your tiny ass childhood bed with you?"

"It's not that tiny," he says with a grin.

"We're gonna be on top of each other."

"Since when have you complained about that before?" he asks, looking me up
and down.

I just roll my eyes. "Well, what about your grandparents?" I add, gesturing
down the hall. "What are they gonna say?"

"They're not gonna say anything," he says, "becaaause, we can set up the
air mattress and pretend you slept on it."

I arch my eyebrow, but honestly, I see no fault in that plan -- unless, of
course, his grandmother is the type to barge in on us in the wee hours of
the morning. The last thing I need to do is be caught in the arms of her
beloved grandson. We'd have some serious explaining to do. "I guess..." I
say hesitantly.

He just laughs as I follow him out of the bathroom, heading to the room he
grew up in. It still has hints of boyish high-schooler, including the
cheesy movie posters hanging up on his wall and the soccer-ball patterned
duvet. It's cute though -- and I find it interesting that there isn't a
hint of jazz here. It's like I'm getting insight into the old Adam.

We pull out the air mattress from its case, unfolding it and laying it out
flat on the floor beside his bed. While I make sure the tape (which is
being used to plug a hole at the end of the mattress) is still sticking,
Adam attempts to plug the inflator in -- but he looks at the plug in
confusion. "Where the hell does this go?" he murmurs to himself, and I
chuckle. I glance at him as he studies the device before I clear my throat.

"Not to be that guy," I say, scratching my head, "but does your family like
me?"

He snorts a bit. "Well my grandma fuckin' loves you," he says, smiling so
far. "Simon thinks you're easy-going, which is Simon-talk for 'I like him',
and my grandfather doesn't have many opinions, so the jury's still out on
him," he adds with a teasing grin towards me. "Why?"

"I just..." I trail off a bit, fidgeting with the end of the mattress.

He pauses with the task at hand, and I can feel his eyes on me. "What's
up?"

"I'm just... worried," I say quietly.

"About my grandparents still?"

I shrug a little, looking at him. "I just really want this to work out, you
know?" I say. "Us. And I don't want to come in between you and your family,
if it comes to that, and then there's the whole family thing, just as a
concept, and seeing you guys all together only reminds me of everything I
don't have and everything I wish I still had, and then I feel fucking awful
for complaining because you lost your parents, and--"

"Hey hey hey," Adam says, dropping the tool and coming over to me when he
sees that I'm crying. I realize I said everything very fast,
stream-of-consciousness style, vomiting my worries out onto him and getting
myself worked up in the process. Now Adam has to console me, which only
makes me feel sillier. He comes over to my side of the deflated air
mattress, kneels down next to me, and puts his arm around me. "I'm sorry,
Teddy, I didn't know this would be so hard for you."

"I'm just being stupid," I say, doing my best to suck in my tears.

"You're not being stupid," he says in a level voice, rubbing my back. "I
get it. Family is a sore spot for you. And rightfully so." He leans in and
kisses my cheek, and I respond by putting my forehead on his shoulder,
letting him hold me. "And as for the other thing... You know I'm in this,
right?" he says in my ear. "I'm in it for you, *because* of you."

"But what if your grandparents--"

"We'll figure it out, Teddy," he says insistently. "*I'll* figure it out. I
don't want you worrying about this. It's not your fight."

I sigh heavily. "I know," I say -- but I'll still feel guilty
anyway. Fearing the worst, I'm already wondering, if I had chosen Jackson
instead, this would be a nonissue.

I feel him kiss the side of my head before he pulls away. "C'mon," he says,
standing up, shutting the lights off, and offering his hand. "Let's just
get into bed. Forget the mattress. You need some cuddles."

I smile slightly, looking up at him as I take his hand. "This part of the
boyfriend experience package?" I tease.

He laughs, pulling me to my feet. "Lucky for you, it's free tonight," he
says, snaking an arm around my midriff as he ropes me in for a soft and
tender kiss on the lips. I can't help but smile as we climb into his bed,
no bigger than a twin. Adam is a bit lithe and can manage it on his own,
but tossing me and my average ass into the mix makes it quite a tight
fit. But it's nice lying side-by-side, his big spoon to my little spoon,
his arms wrapped snugly around me and his soft breath on my neck.

"Thank you," I say, stroking the back of one of his hands with my thumb.

I hear him chuckle softly. "For what?"

"Nothing in particular," I say with a little smile. "Just feeling generally
thankful."

He laughs before kissing my neck, sliding even closer and getting our legs
entwined. "You're welcome, Teddy Bear," he says softly, and I blush
lightly. "And thank you for coming, too," he adds after a moment. "Means a
lot to me."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I like your family a lot," I tell
him. "It's clear that they love you."

"Yeah, I'm lucky to have 'em," he says, slowly rubbing my stomach in
circles. I used to hate when Miguel would do that to me, because it felt
like he was putting emphasis on a part of my body that I'm self-conscious
about. But I don't feel that way with Adam. Not for a second.

"You said all your friends are around here, right?" I ask.

"Mhm. For the most part."

"Are you gonna see them since you're in town?" I ask curiously. We're here
for two more days, so it'd make sense to see his "real", non-escort
friends.

"I was thinking about it, yeah," he says. "If some of 'em are free, I'd
love to introduce you."

"As your good friend, or--"

"Boyfriend," he says. "Definitely."

I smile slightly, finding it endearing that he wants to show me
off. "Boyfriend it is."

Adam chuckles slightly. "What a weird word."

"What?"

"'Boyfriend'."

I laugh. "For you, maybe."

"I like it though," he says, and I can feel him smiling against my skin
when he kisses my neck again. "Hey, so, what do you wanna do tomorrow?"

"I'm up for whatever," I say. I just want to spend time with him, maybe
explore his hometown a bit, see where he grew up.

"So, you're good with a three-mile run in the morning?" he teases.

"Um, yeah, no fucking way," I say. He may go to the gym often when we're in
the city, but that's his choice. Exercise is not in *my* repertoire.

"You sure?" he says, chuckling. "I'd hate to leave you behind."

"I'll be fine," I say, biting my lip. "Maybe I'll try to fuck your brother
while you're gone."

Adam snorts, patting my stomach. "Yeah, good luck cracking that one."

"I cracked you, didn't I?" I say slyly.

"Oh ho ho, you think you're slick, don't you?" Adam asks before sliding his
hand up to my jaw and taking it between his thumb and fingers. "C'mere, you
fucker," he mutters, tilting my face back towards his and kissing me with a
grin.

The kisses start off as playful, slow, sweet, and punctured with laughs,
but gradually, they deepen. We find ourselves relishing the feel of our
lips against each other, so I slowly start rolling over, coming
face-to-face with him so that we can make out properly. He keeps a hand
cupping my face as I rest mine on his side, my thumb sliding up and down
that smooth, bare skin of his.

I don't think it was necessarily the intention, but both of us are getting
horny -- naturally so, though, considering the playful bits of tongue we're
implementing in the kisses. My guess is that Adam has gone commando tonight
because I can feel the growing tent in his sweatpants, which only makes my
cock thicken in my briefs. Our lips smack more insistently against each
other, and each of us let out sporadic little moans as we find ourselves
drawn to each other more and more. Maybe something light tonight would be
nice...

I'm the first to initiate some sort of sexual contact. My hand drifts down
to his hip before it slides in-between us. I let my fingers practically
dance across his bulge, and he grunts against my lips in response before
reaching down as well. First, he takes my hand and guides it right into his
sweatpants -- to which I'm rewarded with no underwear separating me from
his cock. Just as my fingers wrap around his hardening shaft, he gives me
the same treatment, working his hand right into my sleep shorts and cupping
my bulge firmly, giving it a firm squeeze.

I let out a moan-filled laugh against his lips, and we smile at each other
as we feel each other out. I bite my bottom lip lightly, giving him a few
strokes, noticing how his flesh throbs in my grip. So soft and yet, so
solid. I want to see it, taste it, make it cum -- and right as I'm thinking
about going down on him, he himself starts to slide lower.

But I stop him. "Nuh uh," I say, reinforcing my grip on his dick.

He looks at me. "What?"

"I'm the client, aren't I?" I ask. "I decide."

He looks amused. "Okay, so--"

"Take off your pants," I command. He arches his brows as he stares at me
momentarily, grinning slightly. Surprisingly, he doesn't question me. He
just pulls his hand from my shorts and takes a moment to slide his
sweatpants off of his legs. Once they're on the floor, I have another
command ready for him: "Get on your stomach."

"My stomach?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" I say, trying to sound tough without breaking
character and laughing.

"Damn, Teddy," he murmurs, chuckling softly as he relents. I watch as he
rolls onto his stomach, his entire backside bared to me, and I lick my
lips. Thank you, boyfriend.

I swing one leg over his body to straddle him and then lean down to kiss
between his freckled shoulder blades. Down I go, slowly pecking his
freshly-showered body with my lips, my mouth watering the closer I get to
that little peach of his. I've only had the pleasure of eating him out a
few times, and, as the anticipation rises, I realize that I'm ravenous.

I plant a kiss on the dimple above the curve of his ass before resting a
palm on each cheek. I squeeze and spread them slowly, as if I were
massaging them, before I start to send kisses into the valley between
them. He's hot here, my lips already getting warm from being in close
proximity to his center -- and I'm positively salivating. I spit down into
his crack, letting it drip down across his hole before I find myself diving
in.

My eyes roll back when I start lapping at him, when I hear that soft,
pleasured moan escape his lips. He tastes so fucking good. My tongue glides
smoothly across his hole once, twice, three four five times before I kiss
it lewdly. Gripping his cheeks even more tightly, I pry them apart and drag
my tongue slowly up and down the entire valley, almost smiling when I feel
the way he starts grinding his dick against his sheets. Go for it,
Adam. Enjoy it.

I kiss his hole again before I turn up the heat a bit, becoming more
passionate with my motions, more insistent with my tongue. I'm practically
making out with him here, waiting for his ring to loosen enough to accept
me. Once I push that muscle into him, *I* moan. Adam grinds a little more
intently, only encouraging me to tongue-fuck him along with his rhythm. In
and out my tongue goes, easing into his depths, making me drool, making him
incredibly, sloppily wet. He may not be a bottom, but this boy sure does
love being rimmed -- and God, how I love doing this to him.

After what feels like a blissful eternity of eating ass, I pull back, slurp
up the spit hanging from my lips, and catch my breath. Fuck, he's got such
a cute, edible ass. Unable to resist, I give it a playful smack with my
palm, and he grunts a bit before laughing slightly, looking back at me. I
just smile innocently before lightly biting the spot I spanked and then
starting to make my way lower. I'm sure his cock needs attention, and a
specific kind of attention at that: a hungry mouth.

I reach under him to paw at his cock, and he quickly lifts his hips to
allow me to pull that appendage back and guide it right into my mouth. He
arches his back a bit so that he can give me a good amount of his cock in
this position, and I happily gobble up what I can. I wonder if he feels
sexy bent over like this, practically on all fours. Does he? I know this
isn't something he'd be subjecting himself to with most clients -- but then
again, I'm not most clients, am I? There's a deepened level of trust
between us. He knows I wouldn't do something he doesn't like, and I would
never betray that trust.

Eventually, I have him roll over so I can finish him off properly. Keeping
his legs open, I guide his cock right back to my mouth and suck slowly,
deeply, intentionally, while my own hand is deep in my shorts. It's strange
how perfectly he seems to fit in my mouth, how delicious he tastes, how
forbidden he still feels. There's an excitement between us still due to his
(I suppose) former sexuality. Adam, the straight guy? No more. What man can
really stay straight after being so proficient in the art of gay sex?

I let myself worship him a bit, keeping his balls in my grip and focusing
my lips, tongue, and saliva solely on his beautiful cock. I pull off,
eyeing that thick, smooth pillar with awe and lust before I spit on it,
immediately lapping it back up with a hunger I'm so used to feeling around
Adam. He brings it out of me. He makes me want to spend hours bobbing up
and down the shaft, moaning around his manhood, milking him with my lips
and beckoning his load with my tongue. I would. Even if my mouth was sore,
I would.

Just as I'm taking him deeper, Adam murmurs softly. I don't catch exactly
what he says, but upon looking up at him, I know the gist of his message:
he's about to cum. His eyes are closed and the back of his head is
completely pressed into the pillow, his lips gently parted in
anticipation. A notion suddenly strikes me: this is the bed he grew up
in. How many nights did he spend in this bed learning about his body,
touching himself, bringing himself to orgasm? Even if he was fantasizing
about girls in his class, or teachers he wanted to fuck, or otherwise
nameless pussy, did it ever cross his mind that he'd end up with a man?

I keep my rhythm constant, but my tongue? I let it go wild. I lather the
head of his dick in thick saliva, constantly rubbing against his sensitive
glans, making him breathe deeper until finally, he inhales and holds his
breath. At the same time, I feel his cock throb and pulse in my mouth
before his creamy cum starts pooling on my tongue. I find myself moaning
from the taste, like I'm being gifted this moment, this pleasure, *his*
pleasure, and I suck softly until he's dry and I've swallowed all I can get
out of him.

When I pull off, Adam's cock is in a semi-hard state, and it flops against
his stomach with a lewd, wet slap. I grin slightly, licking my lips as I
look up at him. He just smirks back at me. "That was... your best blowjob
yet," he says, slightly breathless.

I blush slightly, laughing quietly. Why does that give me so much pride?
"Glad you liked it," I say, leaning over to give his spent cock a
kiss. Then I start kissing up his body, over each smooth ab, across the
gold chain resting above his toned chest, right to his lips. He hums
against my mouth as we kiss, keeping things tender as his hands slide down
my clothed back.

But then, his hand shimmies over to my groin and grips my bulge, making me
grunt. "Your turn," he murmurs, breaking the kiss.

"I'm okay," I tell him. I may be hard, but I'm sleepy even after that.

He just laughs and says "No no no. No lover of mine goes to bed
unsatisfied." He grins, his eyes flickering up and down before telling me
to take my shirt off.

"Adam--"

"Take it off, Teddy," he says, adopting that commanding tone I used
earlier. He's much better at it, though. It even gives me chills.

I hesitate only for a moment, only until I see that determined look in his
eye. Then, I sit up in his lap and slowly peel my shirt off, my face
feeling warm. He looks me up and down as if he's seeing me for the first
time, very slowly licking his lips as he soaks in my exposed torso before
he takes my hips and sits up with me.

He doesn't kiss me on the mouth, though. He starts with my neck, taking it
slow but sucking lightly on the skin until he decides to work his way
lower. As his hands snake around to add support to my lower back, he starts
kissing my chest. He peppers each side with pecks, soft and wet, letting
his lips drift lazily (but purposefully) across my nipples. They're rock
hard and sensitive, and my body is completely responsive to him. I moan
softly, getting my fingers in his hair as he shifts even lower. He kisses
all over my stomach, and I don't know if it's his intention or not, but I
get the sense that he's appreciating me and my body, loving what I have to
offer even if I'm not normally his "type" -- and that just makes me fall
for him even more.

Gradually, I end up on my back with Adam between my legs, hooking his
fingers into the waistband of my shorts and briefs and slowly tugging both
down simultaneously. He doesn't strip me completely -- just enough to get
my painfully-hard cock free. He smiles at the sight of it sticking straight
up, completely rigid, almost unwavering in its hardness. Even when he
nudges his nose against it, it barely moves. I'm a rock. He just smiles up
at me as he extends his tongue and swipes the head of my cock with it,
already making my toes curl, already making me feel like I'm right on the
edge of cumming. But once he decides to wrap his lips around the head? I'm
finished.

I don't last long at all, considering I was jerking off the whole time I
was giving him the works. I didn't really expect to be able to hold off my
orgasm for very long, but barely a minute in and I'm clenching my teeth,
choking back moans, and tensing my entire body as I fill Adam's mouth with
a surprisingly big load. I can feel every pulse, every shot, and even in
the midst of climax, I know that this one will exhaust me -- mind, body,
and soul. I know I'll sleep like a goddamn baby after this.

My eyes automatically fall shut, too heavy for me to keep open. Jesus
Christ. I breathe slowly, mewling to myself as I feel Adam gently pull off
of my cock. He starts climbing over me, hands on either side of my
shoulders, and I sense his face hovering over mine. I just smile slightly
in anticipation for a kiss. When he kisses me, though, there's a surprise:
my cum. He parts my lips with his tongue and starts feeding me my own
load. I moan, my hand swinging up to hold the back of his head as we share
a thick, deep, lusty kiss, tongues pushing our cum-and-saliva mix back and
forth, hips grinding against each other even after we've climaxed. It feels
so dirty, so fucking hot, but most importantly, indescribably intimate.

When he pulls away from my mouth, my eyes finally open back up to see him
smiling at me with wet, shiny lips. "Feel better?" he asks me.

I laugh softly, nodding. "Much," I tell him sleepily, roping him back into
cuddles and sweet kisses. I fix my shorts as he pulls the blanket over us,
keeping us together and warm. Right now, I couldn't care less about his
grandparents and what they may or may not think when the truth
breaks. Family isn't even a thought or a desire. Adam is my only focus, my
only rock, my only man -- and I fall asleep in his arms, so deeply
appreciative of the fact that all he wants to do is keep me happy.

- End of Chapter 5 -