Page 37 of Follow the Rhythm (Fairview City Omegaverse #2)

T hanks to Ellis, being in the same house as my dad, and one dinner with my overbearing half-sister, was surprisingly bearable.

Anytime I felt overwhelmed, I could disappear with Ellis for a few hours to talk and exchange kisses that meandered but never progressed past a certain, unspoken threshold.

We were being careful with each other, like whatever was happening between us was too delicate to withstand anything more than sweet embraces and making out like teenagers.

Sleeping next to him was an interesting exercise in self-control.

The first night after our kiss by the waterfall, I’d pulled him into my arms and buried my face in his neck, breathing in his orange and cinnamon scent until my head went light.

We’d slept that way, his body perfectly fitted with mine.

But my hands remained firmly above his hips, even if my thoughts strayed elsewhere.

I’d also successfully avoided spending any time alone with my dad, but I could tell my luck was about to run out.

He looked better than the last time I’d seen him, when the stroke was still relatively recent.

He’d been so angry then, at his body and the world, ?but I think he was even angrier with me for being there when it happened.

I wouldn’t forget the image of him collapsing onstage, ever.

One moment, he’d been fine, in the middle of “Devil Don’t Care”, and then his face had gone slack as his left leg crumpled beneath him.

The North Portal reunion tour had been contentious, and his stroke felt like the climax of the building tension. All four members of North Portal were opinionated men in their late sixties who wanted to relive their glory days, and I’d had to put out fires constantly and sometimes literally.

It probably would’ve been better if my mother had come along, but she stayed home with Kristopher. Touring had never been her favorite, even before she met her pack and stepped back from performing.

For the first time, I wondered if she wished she’d made a different choice, if Kristopher and my father had pressured her into leaving Porchlight Choir at the height of her success. I’d never ask Jess to give up something she loved.

All of this was stewing in my brain on the third day of our visit.

Ellis and I hadn’t talked about when we would leave.

It felt like we’d found some weird bubble outside the normal world, and neither of us wanted to face reality.

I was sitting on the back deck in a rare moment of solitude, enjoying the warm afternoon sun and listening to Tame Impala on the speaker system, when my father dropped into the chair next to me.

“Avoiding me, huh?” he asked. I still wasn’t used to the slow cadence of his voice; I kept waiting for him to say more.

“Of course not,” I said automatically, pausing the music. He didn’t listen to anything released past 1989, and certainly nothing that featured that much synth.

“You can leave it on,” he said gruffly. “It’s not horrible.”

“It’s fine. I know you hate it,” I said with a small laugh. The sounds of nature suddenly seemed much louder in the music's absence. A bird called from the woods.

“I told your friend to give us a minute. I need to talk to you.”

I felt a familiar mixture of dread and annoyance. “Sure. What’s up?”

“First. The money.” He tightened his grip on the top of his cane. “Are you done being so damn stubborn?”

“I don’t need it. That’s your money, not mine.”

This was an old fight, and one reason we hadn’t spoken in months. My father seemed to think a trust fund payment was an acceptable substitute for a normal parent-child relationship. I didn’t understand why he was so adamant about me taking the money, and he didn’t understand why I didn’t want it.

His scowl deepened. “It’s not about ‘need.’ I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t want it either,” I said, my voice sharp. What I wanted was a dad who had been around longer than a couple of weeks at a time, or, when he was home, wanted to spend longer than five minutes with me.

I envied my half-sister, Diana. Even though Kristopher had always treated me as his son, there’d been a bond between the two of them I wanted with my father.

“Fine. You can have it when I die, then.”

“I won’t want it then, either.”

“Too fucking bad.” The familiar anger rose in his voice. But even as I braced myself for my father’s famous temper, he took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on his cane. “I’m not trying to fight with you, kiddo.”

“That would be a first,” I mumbled, then bit my lips together before another snide comment could sneak out.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t, just stared out over the view in front of us.

“Okay,” I said, unsure.

“I know I wasn’t a wonderful dad. Now that I’m old and broken and can’t do anything to fix it, I regret that. Among other things.” Emotion cracked his voice. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said reflexively.

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry for how I acted after… this.” He lifted his ruined left hand and stared at it like it wasn’t a part of him at all. “I hated being weak. I took it out on you.”

The conversation seemed to take a physical toll on him. His words were slower, the slur more pronounced. A slight tremor started in his hands.

“It’s really okay, Dad,” I said, trying to placate him.

“No, it’s not,” he growled, suddenly angry again. “It’s not ‘okay.’ I made all the wrong choices, took all of you for granted. I don’t want you to tell me it’s ‘okay.’”

I paused. “You’re right. That sucked.” He sucked in another deep breath.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I hope you can learn from me.

I got lucky in having a second chance with your mother.

Don’t fuck up your life like I did,” he said, struggling through the words.

He met my eyes. For the first time I could remember, my dad looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“I won’t,” I said.

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.” I reached out to pat his shoulder, but he surprised me by pulling me into an awkward hug. The chairs were in the way, the armrest was digging into my stomach, but I didn’t pull away.

“Good,” he said when he let me go. “Help me up?”

I helped him stand and walk back into the house until Kristopher and my mom took over and led him to their bedroom for a rest.

I wasn’t sure if I forgave him yet. There was still a lot of hurt. But I could try.

That night, when Ellis and I went upstairs for bed, I thought more about what my dad had said.

It had taken him a near-death experience to figure out what was important to him.

Luckily, I seemed to have gotten there quicker.

I knew what I wanted, and I knew it was time for Ellis and me to talk about it.

But first, when we closed the door to our bedroom, I kissed him and didn’t hold back.

I poured all the pent-up desire we’d been building between us into it, and he responded in kind.

His tongue slid against mine, rough and messy, while my hands roved his body, over his lean, muscled chest and tightly rounded ass.

He pushed me until my back landed on the bed and climbed on top, his arms framing my head. “Thank god,” he said between kisses, his scent thick in the air. “I was losing my mind.”

I groaned softly and tried to pull him closer against me, but he clicked his tongue, suddenly playful. He entwined his hands with mine and pressed them against the mattress above my head. Our hips were aligned, and I could feel his cock hardening against me.

“I’ve heard you’re quite good at taking direction, sweet Charlie,” Ellis said, his eyes twinkling. He reminded me forcibly of Jess bossing me around as I pounded into her sweet, tight pussy, and my cock responded accordingly.

“I aim to please,” I said, trying to control my ragged breathing.

“Good boy. Now, I’m going to suck your cock, but only if you can stay very, very still. Can you do that for me?” He nudged his hips forward, and I groaned, nodding.

Ellis slid slowly down my body. We were both still fully clothed, and I regretted not taking off his shirt so I could see the dips and hollows of his lean chest.

He unbuttoned my jeans torturously slowly, brushing his knuckles against my cock through the fabric. Each slow catch of the zipper was a jolt of pleasure, but I stayed completely still, my fists clenched above my head where he’d left them.

Ellis drew my cock out, his hand loosely fisted around me, and I stopped breathing completely. The sight of him between my legs, his hand around me, was almost more than I could take.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered. When he leaned forward to lick at the slit, where a bead of pre-cum had gathered, I fought to control my reaction.

My hips jerked slightly, but I forced myself to remain as still as I could.

Ellis smirked up at me. “Oh, very good. That’s one mystery solved; you are as sweet as you look. ”

I groaned incoherently as he licked me slowly from my balls, over my swelling knot, and up my shaft, back to the slit. He stayed there, teasing me with his tongue, just barely brushing his hand along my length.

“Oh god, please.” I was fighting to stay still, my fists gripping the sheets above my head to stop myself from touching him and running my hands through his lovely hair. I needed more, more friction, more of his hot mouth on me, or I was going to lose my mind. “Please, Ellis.”

He gripped me a little more firmly, and I groaned in relief.

He took me fully in his mouth, sinking to the base where my knot was quickly swelling, and swirled his tongue around the head of my cock.

I bit my lip and fought the reflex to thrust into the heat of his mouth.

He moaned around me, setting a steady pace, and the vibration made my head spin.