Date: Mon, 6 May 2019 16:05:48 -0400 From: RJ Subject: A Little Bit of Sugar - Ch. 4 A Little Bit of Sugar by RJ This multi-part fiction is about a man who has an affair with his babysitter. This story involves sexual contact between an adult and a minor. If you are offended by such themes, do not read. Note that the characters here fictional and nothing in this story is associated with the company "Vice." 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. A list of my works, including links and descriptions, can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI. 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. Please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ~ CHAPTER 4 ~ I have to check the text Dylan sent me a couple of times to ensure I have the right address. But the more I look at it, the more I realize that I was right all along. No wonder he always refused to have me drop him off. Dylan lives as downtown as downtown gets. Close to the river, which is too polluted to swim in and often gives off an offensive stench depending on which way the wind is blowing. Housing isn't spectacular, here, either. Every Victorian-house-turned-apartment-building has a dilapidated, suffocating sort of feel to it. They're all too close together, too littered with trash in the front lawns, too overgrown with weeds. The paint has long since faded. The windows are askew or broken. Some porches don't even have stairs. The sidewalks are all cracked and missing in sections, so the potholes they leave behind are filled with murky water. Not great. I feel very out of place here. Dylan told me to wear something casual, so I stuck with some nice jeans and as casual a short-sleeve shirt I could find. But still, my car is far too flashy for this neighborhood. I feel like there are eyes on me, peering at me curiously, wondering what the hell I'm doing here even though no one is outside. Not a soul. It had just rained, so everyone's probably taking refuge still. I sigh a bit, pushing past the sad excuse for a gate and up the creaky steps until I reach the front door. He told me he lives on the bottom floor, so I ignore the staircase when I step inside and head straight for the door numbered "1A." I knock a few times before waiting. I vaguely hear a television blaring, and then some muffled conversation before I sense someone getting closer to the door. Then, once it's unlocked, the door swings open to reveal Dylan, standing there in his underwear and a t-shirt and a bright smile. "Milo!" "Hey," I say, laughing. Shouldn't he have gotten dressed? I never would have wandered around in my underwear if my mom was home. "Come on in. I cleaned up for you, so make sure you compliment me," he says, and I chuckle as I step inside and look around. The room I step into first is the living room. It's surprisingly tidy and homey, tastefully decorated with various knickknacks and framed photos. There are a lot of things taking up most of the floor space, but it has a cozy feeling despite that. My eyes soon focus on the woman in the armchair, though. My first impression is that she is stunningly gorgeous. Even though she looks frail, tired, and her hair is a bit of a mess, her natural beauty is almost shocking. "Is this your mom?" I ask him skeptically. "Yep," he says, guiding me into the sitting area. "Mom, this is Milo. Milo, Mom." "Hi," she says in a tired voice, but her smile is as radiant as could be. She offers her hand and I take it, shaking it loosely. "Lovely to meet you," I tell her. "You as well," she says, practically becoming one with the chair. Dylan interjects before I can say more. "Do you want anything?" he asks. "Coffee, water, blah blah blah? I was about to make a salad for Mom, if you wanted some." "You don't have to go to the trouble," I tell him. "Salad it is then," he says with a grin before telling me to sit. He heads right into the kitchen as I get comfortable on the sofa. I glance towards his mom again, trying to recall her name. She seems focused on the television (which has been turned down to a reasonable volume), watching an old black-and-white film with intention. "What are you watching?" I ask her. "I think it's Casablanca," she says, "but I haven't seen it in years." "That's a classic," I say with a smile. "Indeed." Then she looks at me curiously. "You're quite handsome." "Oh!" I laugh, flattered, considering her own looks. "Thank you." "He's taken quite a liking to you," she says, referring to Dylan. "Talks about you all the time." How much does he tell her? A brief sense of anxiety fills me before I realize that Dylan probably isn't telling his own mother that we've had sex numerous times. "I apologize." "No no," she says, giving a tired laugh, "I enjoy hearing things. Does my heart good to know that someone's watching over him." I smile. "I try to." "You're married, right?" "Yes," I say, holding up my ring finger to show her my wedding band. "To a man, I heard?" I hesitate. "Yeah," I say, wondering where she's going with this. She just nods slightly. "Good. It's good that Dylan gets to see what a healthy relationship between two men looks like." So she knows her son is gay. Otherwise she wouldn't have made such a comment. I'm happy that she seems as supportive as Dylan makes her out to be. "And you have a daughter, yes?" "Yeah. She's six-years-old." "I hear you're a wonderful father." I can't help but smile. Damn, Dylan really knows how to sell me. I wonder what else he's told his mom. "I just do my best," I say. "And I try to do right by your son, too." She smiles. "He tells me all that you've done for him, with the babysitting and the internship and... I don't know how to thank you." "You don't have to thank me," I say. "Dylan's an incredible kid. I've grown rather fond of him, actually." Then I laugh. "I hope it's not weird to you, but I've come to think of him like a son." In a fucked-up sort of way, but still. She seems to brighten at my comment. "He needs that," she says simply. And I understand what she means: a father figure. I like being that for Dylan. I like providing for him, being a mentor, feeling like I'm of use to the betterment of someone. I think that's what was missing in me: real purpose. Laila's still too young to understand the ways of the world, but Dylan reminds me so much of myself when I was his age that I only want to guide him away from how I struggled. I want the best for him. I want him to thrive. It's this desperate, (dare I say) paternal need, but there's a balance. I try not to insert myself too much into his life, or bandage all his issues with a bundle of cash. That's not the type of message I want to portray. Dylan comes back with a salad in each hand and waters tucked into his armpits. I get up immediately and, so that the waters don't spill, take the cups, handing one to his mother before I sit back down. The salad is pretty simple, but I'm happy to see a healthy array of vegetables and seeds there. Dylan sits beside me as the three of us chat and eat. Mostly, Dylan carries the conversation when his mom asks him to tell me about his accomplishments in school. I knew Dylan was smart, but I didn't realize how diversified his intelligence was. Apparently he's been in high honors all throughout his schooling, and has received accolades from specifically his chemistry, calculus, and English teachers. I know it's not necessarily my place to feel this way, but I can't help but be proud of him. And I'm happy knowing that Dylan will go far, wherever he chooses to go. His smarts, drive, and personality gives him a particular advantage over his peers. "Show him your piece!" his mom suggests. "Mom," he groans, glancing at me and laughing. "He doesn't want to read that right now." "What piece?" I ask curiously. "You'll love it, Milo," she says before turning to her son. "Let him read it, baby. He does this for a living." He looks at me before I smile and nod, and then he sighs, muttering "Alright" before heading to his room. He's only gone for a few seconds when he comes back with a few pages of paper stapled together. He sits back next to me (even closer this time) and hands me the printed packet. "Here." There's no title or any header whatsoever. It just starts from the top of the page with "Look around you. The evidence is apparent." I turn to Dylan and ask what it is. "I wrote an article sort of thing," he says with an unsure shrug. "I don't know." "It's about the health care system," his mom chirps in. Aware that they're both watching, I begin to read. And I'm impressed. It's that same feeling I had when I first met Dylan and he made some corrections to the article I was working on. My first thought was "This kid has potential" -- and that remains just as true now, if not more. Now, I get a sense of how he thinks, how he forms sentences, how he mixes the colloquial with the professional, how he draws people in with the questions he poses and the facts he presents. He has the caliber and work ethic of writers that work for me and are twice his age. Now that I think about it, his article detailing the faults of the American health care system (with the research to back it up) would fit well within Vice. He even goes as far as listing out tried-and-true solutions, proven by how other countries handle health care. I end up reading it twice before I look at him. The second time, I'm looking for spelling issues, grammatical mistakes, iffy syntax... I find nothing wrong. "You wrote this yourself?" I ask. He bites his lip, looking nervous. "Yeah. Is it okay?" I laugh. "Okay? I'm... thoroughly impressed," I tell him, trying to sound earnest. I don't know how to properly compliment him so that he understands just how impressed I am. "Really?" he asks, surprised. "I told you it was well-written," I hear his mom say, and he smiles a bit. "Yeah, but... Milo's a big deal." I laugh to myself. A big deal, am I? "Honestly, it might be faultless," I tell him. "What made you write it?" "Um. Well, YOU," he says, and I raise my eyebrows. "And the internship. After I started doing actual editing, I thought 'Hey, I could probably do a better job than some of these guys.'" I laugh. "Well, you kinda did, so far." He shrugs but smiles appreciatively. "It was easy though because I wrote something I'm kinda passionate about." "That's the key, really," I tell him. "Do you think you could get it published in your magazine?" his mom asks, and Dylan gives her a look that says "Mooom, shut up!" I smile. "I don't see why not," I say, and Dylan looks shocked. "It's excellently written. And would fit right in. I'd just have to check your sources and whatnot, but--" "You could really do that?" he interrupts. I laugh. "Don't you know me?" He beams at me, looking like a kid who finally, after years of begging, got the gift he wanted for Christmas. He immediately pounces on me and hugs me, and I grunt in surprise, only lightly hugging him back. Isn't his mom right there...? But she just chuckles. "Leave the poor man alone," she says before yawning. "Sorry," Dylan says, blushing before looking at his mom and seeing her yawn. "Tired?" When she nods, Dylan gets up and grabs a blanket off the couch to drape over her. "Want us to let you sleep a bit?" "I don't want to be rude," she says, but now that I really look at her, she does look a touch beyond exhausted. "It's okay, get some rest. We'll just go in the other room." "Alright," she says, her eyes blinking slowly as if she's already fading. She turns to me and smiles. "It was nice meeting you, Milo." "You as well, darling," I say, and she giggles a bit before closing her eyes. "C'mon," Dylan whispers, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of the living room. He leads me down a hallway, all the way to the end, and then takes a left into his bedroom. He shuts the door as I take a look around, soaking in the personality. Because there's plenty of it. Every single inch of the walls is covered in music and movie posters, as well as what seem to be his own sketches. It's a bit overwhelming at first, but it's done well. "Nice room," I say. He smiles as he sets his article down on his desk. "Thanks. Feel free to sit wherever." I choose the bed, taking a seat and looking at him. "Sorry about my mom," he says. "I thought we'd hang out with her for longer, but..." "No, it's okay," I tell him. "Is she alright?" "Oh yeah," he says, sitting on the chair at his desk and swiveling around to face me. "Fatigue is pretty normal with celiac disease. But, between you and me, I think she's depressed too," he says, sighing. "So that doesn't help." I'd understand if she was, considering she lost her job because of it. Plus, celiac disease is a life-long affliction, and all she can do now is manage her symptoms, especially after the upcoming surgery on her small intestine. "It's a tough break," I say. "Yeah. I try to be there for her." "What about you?" "What about me?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "You look skinnier." He blushes a bit. "Do I?" I couldn't help but notice. He used to have a slight fullness to him, a little weight on his bones. Now, he's noticeably thinner, and I don't think it's because he's working out. "I know you're looking out for your mom, but are you looking out for you, too?" "I think so," he says shakily. "I don't know." "I know there's a lot on your plate, Dylan." Between school, working his various odd jobs, the internship, and taking care of his mom, I'd say he could be easily burning himself out. He sighs. "It's hard, but I manage," he says. "I'm just stressed about the surgery." "It'll be fine," I assure him. "It's not anything major." "I guess." "And look on the bright side: now we know what's wrong, and we know how to help her." "We?" he says with a smile before he nods a couple of times. "Yeah... You're right." Then he looks at me. "Can you come with me to the hospital?" I blink. "Me?" "It'd help to have you there." "I..." I should have guessed he'd ask me, considering how close we've grown. But I wasn't prepared for how touched I'd feel. He could ask anyone, and he's asking me. "Yeah, of course." He smiles at me. "Cool," he says, nodding. Then: "You don't have to go yet, right?" I shake my head. "Not necessarily." "Pick a movie then," he says, gesturing to his walls. I laugh, looking around at all the options. "Um..." I'm not a huge movie buff, so only a few of the dozens of posters in his room look familiar to me. I settle with the one that draws my eye the most. "That one. With the black wig." Dylan glances at the poster before laughing. "Pulp Fiction?" I've heard of that one. "Never seen it." He looks at me surprised for a moment. "It's a classic. And entertaining as hell." "Put it on, then," I say with a grin. I lie back as Dylan hooks up his computer to his old television set and pulls up the video file. Once it's playing, he joins me on the bed, and wordlessly, we find ourselves cuddling -- me on my back with one arm around him, and him pressed up against my side with a leg draped over my thigh. I keep asking questions throughout the film, which makes him laugh, but he doesn't seem to mind. For one, he's already seen the movie (a fair few times, I'm sure). Plus, I think we're only really watching something for the physical contact. It's nice to be snuggled up like this, for once keeping it innocent. At one point, though, he does reach up to tilt my face towards him and then press his lips against mine. It's a soft kiss, and I sigh softly against him through my nose. Then, he nudges his body into mine a little more, and I reach over to stroke his bare leg before gripping it. We kiss back and forth, slowly but deeply, keeping it as quiet as possible as our movements deepen. The kissing is a bit sensual, but it doesn't go beyond touching lips and grabbing his leg. Just a minute of lip-locking before we're back to cuddling and watching the movie. I lie there, stroking his side as he listens to my heart beating rapidly before it slowly starts to calm down. I get home to the smell of something delicious emanating from the kitchen. Stir-fry, I think. I walk in slowly and set my things down on the island, and when Jared hears that metallic noise of keys jangling, he turns his head from the stove, smiling at the sight of me. "Hey!" I smile back at him, shuffling over. "Hey, you," I say, leaning up to receive a kiss from him. I hug his side as he moves chopped vegetables around the pan. "You sound tired," he says with a chuckle. "I am. And I smell like hospital." He laughs, leaning over to playfully sniff the air around me. "I'm sensing... death and urine?" "Death and shit," I correct him, kissing his bicep before moving to take a seat at the island. Man, who knew sitting in a hospital waiting room all day would be so exhausting. "Sounds like you need wine," I hear Jared say, and the next thing I know, his arm wraps around me as he sets an already filled glass of Chardonnay in front of me before kissing my cheek affectionately. "God bless you," I say, downing half the wine in one gulp. Jared goes back to focusing on cooking dinner, handling the rice and vegetables simultaneously. "So how'd the surgery go?" "It went fine," I say. I held Dylan's hand nearly the entire time we were in the waiting room. He kept asking the worst questions, speculating why it was taking so long, but I was there to be the voice of reason, to calm and reassure him, to remind him that it was not as major a surgery as it could have been and to be patient and that people were taking good care of her. I wasn't surprised when the lead surgeon came out and said that the procedure went without a hitch. Dylan sighed so heavily with relief that he almost slid out of the chair, and he smiled for the first time since we'd been there. "That's good," Jared says, taking the veggies off the burner and starting to pour them into the rice. "No issues?" "Nope. Expected to make a speedy recovery and all that." "I'm sure Dylan was happy to hear that," Jared says with a chuckle as he stirs everything together. "Can you grab us some plates?" "Yeah, sure," I say, sliding out of my seat and grabbing plates and silverware for us. Jared piles food onto a plate for each of us before we take a seat side by side at the island. He puts his left hand on my thigh while he eats with his right -- something he's been doing almost subconsciously for years. It's a simple comfort, like an anchor that keeps me in the moment. I take a bite out of my food and yet again praise him for his culinary skills. He says that he always told me that he'd make a good wife, and I laugh, stroking his back as we talk a bit about his day. He says that not much happened. He painted a lot with Laila before they took a quick trip to the park. After that, just a workout and some reading. "Craig called, though," he adds, grinning. I arch my eyebrow. "Another party already?" We just went to one no less than a month ago. "Yup," he says. "He's shooting for next weekend. Hoping for a bigger crowd." "A BIGGER crowd?" I ask, surprised. At Craig's last orgy, there were probably thirty of us, cramped in his small home. But he's always asking for more. "I know," he says with a chuckle. "I told him he might have to go on without us, though." When I give Jared a look, he adds "Aren't you out of town next weekend?" "Oh shit, you're right," I say, rubbing my face. I'll be in LA for a few days for work. Nothing exciting either. Just meetings, meetings, meetings. "I mean, you could go without me," I suggest. He just shakes his head, taking another bite of his food. "I don't really wanna go without you," he says. "You're half the fun." I smile softly. This man is too good to me. The sexual outings we do together are one thing, but my small affair with our babysitter is behind his back. I feel bad now. Jared doesn't deserve to be treated like that. And even though he's exceedingly open (especially when it comes to sexual matters), I can't say he'd be pleased to find out that I kept this from him all this time. Speak of the devil... My phone buzzes on the table, and when I see the name, I get worried. Why is he calling me? I swallow my bite quickly as I pick up the call. "'Lo?" "Did you pay for the surgery?" Dylan's voice asks me. I freeze a bit. How did he find out so quickly? On my way out, while Dylan stayed with his mom, I made an anonymous donation. The lady who helped me said their bill wouldn't be processed for another week at the earliest. But I paid it maybe two hours ago. "Milo? You there?" I clear my throat. "I'm here." "Did you pay for the surgery?" he asks again. I sigh, glancing at Jared, who looks at me curiously as he chews. "Yes." "Milo, no--" "Why not?" I ask him. "Because..." he starts to say, but he struggles to come up with a reason. "Just take the money," I say. "You can't just--" "Take it," I say again. "I don't need it. You and your mom do." There's a pause on the other line. Frankly, it's so quiet that I check to see if the call had been disconnected. But when I bring the phone back to my ear, I hear him; he's crying. Dylan's crying, and his sobs are getting steadily messier. "Dylan..." "You..." But he can't get the words out, whatever he's trying to say. I wait for a bit for him to compose himself, but he doesn't seem to be getting much better. "Where are you?" I ask. He sniffles and tries to catch his breath. "Still at... the hos--" He hiccups a bit. "Hospital," he says. "Are you staying there tonight?" "I don't know," he mumbles, sniffling in a particularly nasty way. "I might try and get home soon." "You can stay the night with me and Jared if you want," I suggest, considering we're much closer to the hospital. "We'll get you fed and rested." "Really?" he asks. "Of course. Want me to get you a cab?" "No!" he says surprisingly abruptly. "Stop spending money on me." "It's just a cab--" "You treat me too well. I'm getting spoiled." I laugh a little, happy to see that he's not upset that I paid for his mother's surgery. Maybe just grateful. "I'll come by soon," he says, and after I tell him to text me when he's on his way, he hangs up. I sigh heavily, putting my phone down. Damn, I almost got emotional right alongside him. "Everything okay?" Jared asks, giving my thigh a squeeze. I look over at him. "Yeah. Dylan's gonna stay over. Hope that's okay," I say as I go back to my food. "Of course," he says, chewing slowly. I can sense him staring at me, clearly wanting an explanation. "I paid for his mom's surgery," I say, facing him. He raises his eyebrows but then smiles. "That was good of you." I smile back. "I just felt like I had to." "You did the right thing, babe." I bite my lip, wondering if I should ask. "It's not a bad thing to give people money, right? Or pay for things?" He looks at me confused, considering how terribly unspecific I was. "What do you mean?" "I don't know," I say, shrugging. "I feel like I've given Dylan a lot. Not that I mind," I clarify. "Nor do I regret it. I just don't want it to come across as... like..." "Like he's a charity case?" Jared suggests. "Yes!" I say. "Exactly. Or that money solves everything." "Very fatherly of you to be teaching kids lessons," Jared says with a grin, and I blush. "I don't think it's like that, though. He knows what's what. He's a smart kid." He takes a sip of his wine before continuing. "Think of all the other smart kids out there who don't have the same opportunities as you do because they don't have money." "I guess," I say. Money is pretty powerful. Hell, money is everything. "Money can be a good thing. It boosts someone's potential if they're using it right." I look at him. "Do you think I'm using it right?" Jared just smiles. "Hell yeah." I smile back, pushing my food around with my fork. I should set aside a plate for him for when he shows up. "I'm pretty fond of that kid," I admit. Jared just chuckles, stroking my thigh with his thumb. "I know." Dylan shows up an hour later, right after we put Laila to bed. He looks absolutely exhausted. He didn't sleep much last night so I think he's in desperate need of a solid night's rest. But in case he's wired, Jared thought it'd be a good idea to set him up on the couch so he has access to our smart TV. And some privacy if he needs it. As Jared comes down with spare blankets, I direct Dylan towards the couch, promising that it's comfortable enough to sleep on. "You hungry?" I ask when he sits down. "Not really," he says. I cross my arms. "Did you eat anything today?" He winces slightly, knowing I'm about to chastise him for not eating regularly. Jared hops on that quickly. "I'll heat up his plate," he says, stroking my back before he heads into the kitchen. I glance at Dylan, who's staring at me a bit. "Well, if you wanna shower or anything, you know where the towels are," I say. "Help yourself." Then he speaks up. "You didn't have to do that." Of course he's referring to the money. "Sure I did." It's something Jared said just a short while ago that stuck with me: as someone who's wealthier than most, I have an obligation to use my money properly. "Why are you so good to me?" I shrug. "It's just money, Dylan." "But it's not just the money," he says. "It's literally everything else. Like... you support me emotionally, you encourage me, you're always looking out for me." He even frowns at me a bit. "I feel like I don't deserve your kindness." "Bullshit," I say immediately. "You deserve every bit of it." Just as Dylan's eyes start to get a little watery, Jared comes back with a warm plate of food. He passes it to Dylan, who accepts it with a smile. "Damn, this looks good." "Eat up, kid," Jared says. Dylan takes a bite and then closes his eyes as he moans. "Fuck," he mutters, causing Jared to chuckle. Then: "Can you guys adopt me?" Both of us laugh, and he smiles cheekily up at us both. "Get some rest, Dylan," I tell him, patting his shoulder and then giving it a squeeze. "And let us know if you need anything." "Um... the remote?" he asks with his mouth full, glancing around for the TV remote. "Here," Jared says, grabbing it off the adjacent loveseat and tossing it to Dylan, who catches it with a smile. "Thanks." "You're welcome," Jared says, tugging at my shirt in the back. That's his signal that he needs something. "G'night, Dylan," I say, and before we leave, Jared asks if he can keep an eye on Laila for us. Dylan looks at us curiously. "Oh, are you guys going out?" "No," Jared says. At first I was confused as to why Jared was asking Dylan to be on babysitting duty. We don't have plans. We're not going anywhere. But his confirmation that we're staying in must mean one thing: he wants sex. I blush and gulp, looking at Dylan, who's glancing back and forth between us. I swear he grins slightly, but it's subtle. "Yeah, sure. No problem," he says. "Great," Jared says, tugging me away. "Thanks, buddy." I feel somewhat embarrassed, even though I shouldn't. And I'm about to confront him when we head into the adjacent hallway, but all I get out is "Are you seri--?" because Jared pins me against the wall and kisses me hard. My eyes close instantaneously, and I let out a soft moan before I push him back a bit. "You crazy?" I whisper. "Dylan's right there." "I'm sorry," he says, clearly not sorry at all. "You're just so sexy." "Thanks for noticing," I joke, laughing slightly. "I'm sorry, alright?" he says, grinning and pressing up against me more. "I just love when you get all 'sweet rich dad' on people. You know that's my weakness." I bite my lip, my hands at his sides. "Okay, but I'm pretty sure he knows what we're up to," I say, poking him. "You weren't subtle." "Fuck subtle," he says, kissing me again. I moan against his lips. "Jared--" "What?" he says, licking his lips. "Laila's in bed early. Now we have a sitter in case she needs something. Perfect opportunity." He's right. Normally I'd just roll my eyes and push him away, but I can feel the firmness in his groin pressing against me. It's a total distraction, and he knows it. Suddenly I'm cock-hungry. Suddenly all I'm thinking about is the prospect of going upstairs, getting my man naked, and sharing a passionate fuck. There's nothing else I want to do right now. So when I hit him with a sly smile, he knows. He grins and grabs my hand, tugging me up the stairs. As soon as we burst through the bedroom door, we're all over each other, shuffling towards the bed as we kiss and grab. We manage to get to the bed, and as soon as I fall on top of him, I start working my way down eagerly. There's a hurriedness to my movements as I push the hem of his shirt up, because it was blocking access to his belt. All these fucking clothes are in my way. I scramble to undo his belt, and as I finally get his pants open, he sits up a bit to take his shirt off. I lick my lips as I pull open his jeans and fish for his cock. Once it's out in the open, hard and begging for attention, I take him in. No waiting. No hesitation. As soon as I can get my lips around his manhood, I'm there. I moan softly on his shaft, closing my eyes and bobbing graciously in his lap. I hear Jared moan deeply, finally getting his shirt off before I feel his hand on the back of my head, guiding me deeper. I look up at him as he lies down onto his back and watches me work my magic, smiling at me. I know that smile. He says I get this worried sort of look whenever I go down on him, but I can't help my expression. I'm too focused on his glands, his shaft, how he fills my mouth, how he tastes, how I'm pleasuring him with the combination of tongue and lips, how deep I can take him... These are more important things to me. He still has too many clothes on, though. I hook my fingers into his jeans and start pulling his pants off his hips, along with his underwear. I let his cock fall from my lips as he lifts his ass up for me, letting me tug his jeans all the way down his legs and off his ankles. I stand up, taking a moment to just soak in the sight of his nude physique, to appreciate what I have. God, he's gorgeous. I'm so lucky. I'm so fucking lucky. He grins, running his fingers through his long hair before he sits up and then slowly gets to his feet, completely maintaining eye contact. He leans in and gives me one soft peck on the lips as he starts pulling my shirt off of me. I raise my arms, letting him remove my shirt before he shifts his attention to my jeans. First the button, then the fly, and then he reaches inside and cups my bulging briefs with his palm, giving my crotch a firm squeeze. I moan, my eyes closing, and Jared takes advantage of my vulnerability by moving his lips to my neck. I clutch onto him, pushing up against his palm, essentially grinding against his grip. He doesn't tease me for too long, either. He quickly addresses the rest of my clothing, pulling my jeans and underwear off my legs before standing back up. Once I'm naked, he nibbles on my earlobe before saying "Get on the bed" in a soft but commanding voice. I eagerly comply, crawling on top of the sheets and looking at him. He cocks his chin towards the headboard, so I move a pillow for back support as I sit up with my back against the panel, looking at him curiously. He just hits me with a hungry smirk before crawling into bed as well. He gets in between my legs though, first giving me a quick but sensual kiss on the lips before he shifts to his stomach. Then, after sliding forward a bit, he guides my hard cock right into his mouth. I moan softly, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall. I feel Jared's fingers lightly teasing my balls as he bobs back and forth, getting deep into my lap and humming in a low tone. My fingers find his head automatically, stroking through those long, dark strands before I hold his hair up and back for him. I tilt my head to watch him suck me off, loving the sight of those luscious lips being wrapped firmly around my shaft. He slides down deeper, taking me into his throat, and I let out a shaky moan. Then-- There's a creak by the door, and I pause, honing in on the sound. I'm certain it was a creak. The hallway has a habit of being noisy at times. "Did you hear that?" I whisper to Jared. "Hm?" he asks, looking up at me before he pulls off my cock. "What's up?" "I thought I heard something," I say, and before I even finish my sentence, I hear it again: the creak, right outside the door, as distinct as anything. Jared lifts himself up and sits back on his heels, still glancing towards the door. "Laila?" he asks. There's no response for a few moments. Then, Dylan's muffled voice comes through the wood. "Sorry," he says, "I just came up to ask about the water?" There's a pause as Jared and I stare at each other. He has a strange expression on his face. One that I can't exactly read. But Dylan continues speaking after the silence. "There's no hot water downstairs and--" "Come in here," Jared says, still staring right at me, which makes my heart start racing. "What?" I snap in a whisper. But Jared just gives me a little grin as Dylan opens the door hesitantly before stepping inside. I quickly pull the pillow over my lap to make myself semi-decent -- but Jared does nothing to hide his body. And he knows it. He turns back to Dylan, who's looking between us with a mix of intrigue, embarrassment, and amusement. "S-sorry," he says with a slight smile, catching my eye. "What were you asking about?" Jared says, playing dumb. "I couldn't quite hear you." I want to hit him. What the fuck is he doing? Of course he heard him. "I was just... wondering what's up with the..." But Dylan gets distracted by Jared. I'm sure he's soaking in the sight of my husband's musculature, his masculinity, his manhood -- particularly that raging hard-on between his powerful legs. "Uh..." Then Dylan shakes his head. "Sorry. Should I go?" he asks with a laugh, pointing his thumb towards the door behind him. "If you want to," Jared says with a shrug. Then he looks the kid up and down. "Or you could take your clothes off." Jesus Christ. Is this happening? This is happening. I gawp at both of them. Dylan has a slight grin on his face, but he keeps looking in my direction for... what, approval? I don't know what to do, or say. But soon, Dylan makes the move. He starts with his belt, keeping an eye on both of us as he removes the safest article of clothing first, as if waiting for us to say "Psych!" I grab Jared's arm and tug him closer to me. "The fuck are you doing?" I whisper. But he just smirks at me before leaning into my ear. "I want to watch him fuck you." I don't know why, but I get chills. Goosebumps erupt all over my upper body, and my cock throbs in an aching way. I can envision it clearly, Jared lying back and watching Dylan top me -- something Dylan and I haven't even done before. Is that something he'd be interested in? I blink, glancing towards Dylan, who is now stepping out of his pants. He's moving slowly, as if testing whether or not Jared was serious. Even I'm half-wondering. I wonder if Dylan really was successful in planting that "threesome seed." Maybe Jared's been thinking about this more seriously than I imagined. "He's fifteen," I point out. Jared just glances at my lips. "Did that stop you before?" I feel my heart flutter, and not in a good way. Suddenly I'm tense. Does he... know? About me and Dylan? What else could his comment possibly mean? Suddenly all I want to do is explain myself, or hide, or maybe a mix of both. But before I can do anything, Jared reels me in for a kiss. A deep, distracting kiss. I moan softly, sensing him moving the pillow off my lap before I feel his warm fingers snaking around my cock. He strokes me slowly, teasing the very tip with his thumb and making me squirm a bit. I can't resist bringing my hand to his hair and gripping it tight for support. Damn, Jared, what are you doing to me... He breaks the kiss, swiping at my lips with his tongue playfully before he grins and then gets back into his original position: on his stomach, between my legs, face in my lap. I moan when his mouth finds my cock, looking down at him briefly before my attention turns to Dylan. He's looking at us with intrigue as he stands there, stroking himself lightly, only wearing his shirt. He catches my eye and smiles a bit before peeling his t-shirt off and then coming to join us on the bed. Jared shifts onto his side, making some room for Dylan to join him -- and Dylan quickly catches on. As my husband pulls off my cock, Dylan takes over, moving his lips right to my shaft. I moan a little louder, slouching a bit as Dylan works me over like he's trying to prove a point. Maybe he's just trying to show up Jared. Regardless, Jared looks up at me with an impressed expression, even chuckling slightly as Dylan gobbles up my cock. They swap back and forth a few times before working at the same time, each of them lapping and sucking on the sides of my shaft. I feel my eyes fluttering from the pleasure and the attention, but I do my best to stay focused, watching them work seamlessly together. Soon they both get to the head of my cock, and as Dylan keeps a firm grip on the base of my shaft, they lock lips, kissing slowly. I watch their tongues glide against each other's whenever their lips separate slightly. That sight alone keeps my cock raging hard. I hadn't even noticed Jared's hand roaming Dylan's body. Only when Jared pulls away from the kiss do I see his hand firmly gripping Dylan's plump bottom. I watch my husband move down the bed as Dylan rolls more comfortably onto his stomach. The boy nuzzles his face into my crotch and gives my balls some attention with his lips as Jared's tongue slowly slides down the kid's spine until he finally reaches his goal. I can feel Dylan moan as Jared dives right in, and I smirk at the sound of Jared's pleased groans as he eats Dylan out. Watching Jared give someone else pleasure has always been incredibly erotic to me. He is objectively one of the manliest gentlemen that regularly attends Craig's parties, and there's never a lack of bottoms who are willing to bend over for him. In fact, they're often lined up for him. It's a sight to behold, watching him do anything sexual -- especially fuck. Maybe it's because I know him so intimately that I like seeing him from an outsider's perspective. I know it's the same way for him. He loves watching me get fucked. Too often he has to delete apps off his phone to make room for footage of me getting tag-teamed. But this time, it's a little different. We've never had just a threesome before. There have always been at least six of us in the room, generally in a sort of free-for-all, and never in our own home, our marriage bed. This just feels much more intimate than anything else. Especially considering who the third-party is... Dylan moves up my body a bit, moaning softly as Jared works his magic. I reach down and cup Dylan's face, bringing him up to my lips so that I can kiss him. I kiss him deep and sensually, and he clutches on my thighs like they're life supports. I don't think he expected his day to end with this. I sure as hell didn't, but my body is thankful for right now. I just hope things don't get as complicated as I'm fearing they might get. Suddenly I notice Jared nearby, kissing Dylan's neck as he presses up against the boy. He moves his lips to Dylan's ear and then starts speaking. "You like to fuck?" Dylan lets out a little laugh. "Uh... yeah." Jared grins a bit. "You're clean, right?" "Huh?" "We don't use condoms here." "Oh," he says, understanding. "Yeah, I am." Jared gives Dylan's neck one more kiss. "Good," he says before pulling away. He gives Dylan's ass a good slap before hopping off the bed, grabbing a chair from the corner of the room, and situating it right by the nightstand where he can see us both very clearly. Then, he reaches into the drawer, grabs the bottle of lube, and tosses it onto the bed beside us. "Have at it," he says as he sits down, spreading his legs and grinning. Dylan glances at the lube before looking back at my husband. "Have at what?" "I want to watch you two." Dylan looks back at me with an amused smile, and I just roll my eyes. "He's a voyeur," I explain before shifting positions. I have Dylan lie down on his back before I grab the lube and apply it to myself while Dylan lubes himself up a bit. Then, I lean down and kiss him, whispering "Let's see if you're any good" as I reach between us, hold his cock up, and then slowly sink down on it. Watching Dylan's face is somewhat remarkable. I wonder if he's ever been a top before. It's not something that has ever come up in our discussions, surprisingly enough. Nor has he ever tried to fuck me. I think I just assumed he was a total bottom considering our dynamic. He certainly looks like he's never felt something like this before. His mouth hangs open and his eyes go a little wide as he sinks into my warmth. "Whoa," he says, laughing and grunting. I grin a bit. "First time?" He nods. "Yeah." I chuckle a bit, sitting up straight on his lap and starting to gyrate. "We've got a newbie, babe," I say to Jared. "Oh yeah?" Jared chuckles, working his cock with slow movements. "Show him what's what." I plan to. I keep it slow at first, making sure I give him a little time to adjust and not cum too soon. But once he stops tensing so much, I work my hips into it a bit more. I start with slow circles, keeping my hands on his chest to pin him down. Then I start moving up and down with a grind, sticking my ass out each time I get deep in order to give him that added sensation. Dylan just closes his eyes for a while, completely letting me take over. Soon, though, Dylan starts to work his hips into it as well, and eventually, he grips each of my hips tightly before starting to thrust up into me. I hover as he speeds up, moaning while he ruts with a fairly smooth rhythm. "Oh shit," I moan out, feeling Dylan peg me with deep, almost calculated thrusts. He stares between us, watching his cock thrust up into me over and over as he bites his lip in concentration. I just hear Jared laugh. "Atta boy!" he says, cheering Dylan on. He manages to keep up his mini-core workout for a minute before he overestimates his stride, and his cock slips from my hole. Both of us moan a bit, and I decide it's a perfect time to shift gears. So I get onto my back, spreading my legs a bit. Dylan pants slightly, but he grins at the sight of me and eagerly gets onto his knees, positions himself between my thighs, and slides his cock right back inside of me. I moan out from the sharp penetration, closing my eyes for a moment and reaching down to stroke myself. Dylan keeps a hand on each of my calves as he works his hips back and forth, testing out a few different rhythms before settling on a mildly-paced but lengthy stride. I'm sure he just likes the sight of his cock disappearing into me over and over again. I feel a weight shift on the bed after a while, and when I open my eyes, I see Jared getting behind Dylan. He kisses the boy's shoulder and neck, wrapping his broad arms around as his hands roam Dylan's torso. Then, one hand slips behind him and, after a second, Dylan lets out a little mewl, closing his eyes. I'm sure he's teasing the kid, tapping at his hole, maybe slipping in a lubed-up finger to test his limits. Is he going to try and fuck him? Dylan may be a newbie when it comes to topping, but when it comes to being a bottom, he's more skilled than most. I watch as Jared whispers something in Dylan's ear, and once Dylan nods, he pauses his thrusting. Jared looks down, focusing on something for a moment. Then, once the lube is tossed back onto the bed, I sense Jared push forward. Dylan moans out once, his eyebrows raising in the middle and his mouth opening slightly as he stares off at nothing in particular. He lets go of my legs so that he can bend over me slightly and have Jared get into him a little easier. Still, he's taking Jared's substantial cock with relative ease, his eyes rolling back slightly as my husband stretches him out more than I could. Now, we start moving as a unit. Dylan tries to keep up a bit, but Jared is the one in charge here. So I decide to switch up the position a bit, flipping over onto my hands and knees to allow me more control over my movements. I guide Dylan right back inside me and wordlessly work with Jared to find a solid rhythm. Dylan just has to be still and enjoy the ride. He keeps moaning and laughing, probably overcome with the dual sensations of fucking and being fucked simultaneously. I remember the first time I was in the middle of something like that. I came within the first minute. But Dylan's really holding his own, impressing both of us. Dylan grips my hips as I rock back and forth on his cock for a while. Soon, though, he tries to reach around to grab at my cock. I lift myself up, letting him wrap both of his arms around me as I press my back against his torso. Now Jared and I are sandwiching Dylan between us, both moving in a steady rhythm, one gyrating mass. I feel Dylan's eager hand gripping my cock and I moan out, working my hips a little faster. He can't keep up with the stroking though, and merely keeps his arms around me, dragging his nails down my torso. Quickly, we're all riding to the climax. Unsurprisingly, Dylan gets there first, letting out a sharper, more characteristic moan before he grips onto me tight. He bites down on my shoulder a bit as he thrusts forward with short bursts, cumming inside me. Even Jared stops moving, probably feeling Dylan's hole clenching repeatedly on him. It takes him half a minute to relax, and he keeps panting softly against my skin before letting out a little laugh. "Holy shit," he says. I hear Jared chuckle. "You good?" "Very," Dylan says. I slowly slide away from Dylan, and once his cock is out of me, I let myself fall onto the bed. I feel tired from I roll onto my back, reaching between my legs to grip my cock while I look up at Jared, who has his hands on each of Dylan's hips. He just grins at me before nudging Dylan towards me. Dylan gets the hint and crawls over me, resting on half my body as he kisses me. They're very slow kisses, but we make sure to keep them deep and erotic. As he kisses me, Dylan slides his hand down my torso before his fingers find my cock. I let out a relieved sort of moan when he finally starts stroking me, working my shaft up and down with a firm grip. I spread my legs a bit and work my hips into his fist slowly. Jared just watches us, straddling one of my legs as he jerks himself off. It doesn't take long for me to cum, considering how close I was mid-fuck. Dylan senses my cock throbbing a bit, and he picks up the pace, even adding more tongue to the kiss. I let out a deep moan as I get closer and closer until finally, I orgasm. My cock spurts out my load in thick ropes, going for a bit of distance since it hits my neck before shooting out all over my abs. Then, it's Jared's turn. I pant against Dylan's lips a bit before I hear Jared let out somewhat of a growl. I turn my head and watch him speed up his motions before he pauses, tensing until his cock finally shoots out that first rope onto my body. He cums on my arm, my torso, my crotch, and my leg, as well as Dylan's thigh. It's quite a load, but I bear the brunt of the mess, and I smile as I do so. Once Jared regains composure, squeezing out the last of his load, he looks at me and grins a bit. Before either of us can say anything, though, Dylan speaks up. "You guys are so hot," he says, which makes Jared laugh. "I've been dying to do this for months." "Should've said something earlier," Jared says, hopping off the bed to grab a towel. "Don't listen to him," I mutter, rubbing my forehead. Now that the blinding, stupid high of sex is wearing off, the guilt is starting to creep in. Jared knows. Jared comes back with a grin though, using a clean towel to start wiping the cum off of me. I'm curious to know what he's thinking right now. He seems... well, fine. "I love you," I tell him. He looks up at me and then flashes me a soft smile before leaning down and kissing me softly on the lips. Both of us break apart when Dylan says "Awww!" though. Both of us laugh slightly as Jared pulls back to continue cleaning me up. "By the way... Did you actually have an issue with the hot water or were you just spying on us?" Jared asks. "There actually is no hot water," he says with a laugh. "I promise." "But you still decided to spy," Jared says with a grin. Dylan shrugs. "Just how things unfolded, I guess." He chuckles slightly, shaking his head. I just sigh. "Well... It is what it is," I say softly. What's going to happen now? Now that we've both fucked Dylan, I feel like I'm somewhat in the clear. But his earlier comment still needs to be addressed. I need to fix this before the guilt really takes hold of me. "Do I have to sleep downstairs still?" Dylan asks suddenly. Jared and I glance at each other before he shrugs, giving me his answer. I just sigh through my nose. "I guess not," I say. "Awesome," he says, kissing my cheek before he hops off the bed. "I'm just gonna go grab my phone. Maybe use the bathroom." "Okay," I say, watching him waltz out of the room naked, humming a tune. I let out a heavy sigh, closing my eyes and listening to Jared chuckle. Why is he laughing? Why isn't he mad, or cursing me out, or...? I don't know. I don't know what to do. I feel his weight shift the bed before he rests next to me. "Milo?" I take a deep breath. "So you know," I say, looking up at the ceiling. "For a while now," he says after a small pause. I look at him. A while? Jesus, what does that mean? "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Hell, why didn't he stop me? He shrugs a bit, resting a hand on my lower stomach, his fingers just teasing my pubes. "I don't know, honestly," he says. "I guess I didn't want to risk losing you." I actually snort, and I feel a bit dickish for reacting that way, but I can't help it. "To a fifteen-year-old?" "You can't blame me for wondering," he says. I sigh. He's right. Anything could happen. People have left significant others for less. Plus, the fact that I was unfaithful at all is enough to raise concern. After I don't respond, he asks a question in a surprisingly tender voice. "You don't want to leave, do you?" My heart breaks. And my heart doesn't deserve to break. I caused this. He's been struggling quietly and internally with his feelings rather than approaching me about his hunches. And all the while, I never would have guessed. "I would never leave you," I tell him earnestly, rolling onto my side and cupping his face, "for anyone." He smiles softly, looking somewhat relieved. "Dylan and I are..." I pause to collect my thoughts. How do I explain my fascination with Dylan? How do I properly articulate that we have this weird, sexual, pseudo-father-son bond? I decide to be simple for now. "I care for him and feel protective of him in a lot of ways, and there's obviously sexual attraction there, but... Jared, you are everything to me. You're my one and only." I need him to know that. I need him to understand that the love I have for him surpasses everything else. He takes my hand and kisses my palm, clearly trying not to smile or show the true intensity of his relief. God, I feel horrible. "I know," he says. Even I feel somewhat relieved. I'm not sure how he knows, but I take it. I sigh, stroking his lip with my thumb. "Aren't you mad?" "Mad? No," he says, shaking his head. "I felt a little jealous at first, maybe confused, but... you're not worth losing over something stupid like this." On one hand, I get it. We both know better than most people that sex can just be for fun. It doesn't have to be this "sacred" thing. But at the same time, it's hard for me to believe that he's not mad. I think it's just because of how I'd react if the roles were reversed. As unfair as it is for me to think this, I feel like I'd be horribly jealous and hurt and upset if I found out Jared was cheating on me. But Jared has always erred on the calm and composed side of things. He's always been the happy-go-lucky, carefree type. Takes things as they come. Much more reasonable and laid-back in terms of sex and sexual expression. He knows that, too. "Sex is sex," he says. "And you know we've always had an... unrestricted sort of relationship." "Craig's parties are different," I say. "That's something we do together." "Yeah, but I've gone without you plenty of times." "You always ask me, though," I remind him. I can't believe I'm trying to convince him how terrible of a partner I've been. He catches on to my subconscious self-sabotage, though. "I've thought this through already, Milo," he says, a little firmly. "I've had plenty of time to sort through any feelings about it. I just wanted to make sure that... that, at the end of the day, it's still us." I inhale shakily, on the verge of crying. Even my eyes are welling up with tears, but I blink a few times and do my best to compose myself. I'm lucky. That's really all there is to it. I don't deserve this treatment, but I understand where he's coming from, and I appreciate my husband more than I ever have. "It's still us," I assure him, bringing him close and kissing him firmly, hoping this lip-lock somewhat exemplifies the love and adoration I feel for him. He takes a hold of my side and pulls me close, our bodies linked together nicely. I apologize again, a little more profusely, but he just smiles. "Stop apologizing," he says. "No." I kiss him again, a short peck as I run my fingers through his hair and make him hum softly. "What now?" I ask. He looks at me curiously, and I say "Concerning Dylan." He just smirks slightly. "I'm just happy I got a piece of the babysitter, too," he says in a joking manner. I roll my eyes. "I mean going forward," I say, trying to be serious. But he doesn't want to be serious right now. He licks his lips a bit before saying "We've always wanted a son." I stare at him for a moment before we both burst out laughing, clutching onto each other as we try to compose ourselves. At least it feels good to laugh. But, even if he was joking, my decision mirrors his. However we move forward with Dylan, I know that Jared and I are in this together. And I have a strong feeling that Dylan won't mind the change.