Page 32 of Foxed Up

"Bedroom. You can sleep on the couch if you'd rather," I added gruffly. For some reason I was embarrassed to show him my bedroom. I wished I'd made the bed a little more neatly, but really, it wasn't just that. It felt strangely vulnerable showing him this room, hoping he'd want to stay. I'd wanted him here for so long, and it still might not happen.

"How long before you have to pick him up?" asked Wallace nervously. He held his bag in front of him awkwardly. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were just slightly flushed. "Jon?" He looked at me quickly.

He was hesitating on the edge, and so was I. Who would say it first...and did we actually have time?

"Twenty minutes, absolute latest I can leave it." My voice sounded funny.

"Well," said Wallace in a rather light, breathy voice, "that's long enough, isn't it?" He put down his bag and began to take off his shirt. It was all very matter of fact, but he was nervous; even I could feel that.

"Wallace, you know you don't have to do this, right?"

"I know. I like sex." He touched his tongue to his lower lip, hesitant. "With you."

"But things have been...bad between us," I said lamely. I couldn't believe I was the one hesitating. I wanted him; of course I did. But he seemed fragile right now. I still wasn't sure where we stood. Was this a let's-make-up fuck, or a goodbye fuck? Because the first, I could really get into. The other? Didn't ever want that with Avery.

"You said you're sorry. You said you love me. What could still be wrong?" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. "I'd like to have sex, if we have time. There won't be time later, because your son will be here and...and it just probably won't work. Right?" He was frowning at me now, head tilted slightly, probably trying to figure out what was up with me. I always wanted to fuck him.

"Okay." I reached for my own shirt, pulled it up over my head, and enjoying the feel of his gaze on my abdomen, lingering, kindling. "I meant all of that. Don't forget it. I love you. I'm sorry. I want to keep trying."

He nodded solemnly, gaze going back up to meet mine. "I want it to be real." He unzipped and stepped out of his jeans in a smooth, unconsciously beautiful movement that made my mouth go dry. There was no one as graceful and gorgeous as my fox. And he didn't ever seem to know it.

I wished I could say all the things I was feeling, but I didn't even know what they all were. I fumbled out of my own jeans and stepped forward to take him into my arms. He still seemed shy of me, but his eyes held hunger and something like hope.

I pulled him against me, ran my hands down his sides and held onto his waist, thrusting lightly against him as I kissed him. It felt good to have him in my arms again. He sighed, and kissed me back. I felt like I was home.

I didn't want to rush and I didn't want to make him feel unappreciated. This wasn't going to be a quick fuck, whatever he thought. I was going to make sweet uncomplicated love to him, and make sure he knew how I felt about him. It was important.

I got him on the bed. He sighed under me, stretching deliciously as I kissed from his shoulder to his belly button, and then lower. He wriggled to get comfortable, sighed. "Aren't you gonna...?" He pressed a hand on his lower belly. He was slim and lithe, and had the kind of muscle definition most could only dream of, yet there was something soft and vulnerable about him. He displayed neither bony toughness nor the showy masculinity I normally associated with abs. He wasn't particularly proud of his body, and usually wore clothes that covered him neck to foot.

He looked gorgeous lying here, getting both comfortable and uncomfortable under my ministrations. "No." I kissed him again, then sucked gently on his dick, which was starting to stand up and pay attention. "Just let me take care of you."

"Oh." He made a sound in his throat, squirming a little. I wanted to give him a good hard fuck, then wrap him up in a quilt and keep him here in bed with me all day for a sleepy sexy afternoon of shutting out the rest of the world. He would look so hedonistic, half asleep and sated, sexed up and pleased with the world, and himself, and me. The way his eyes would go half shut in a dreamy smile...

He gave me a rather shy look from under his long lashes, but didn't argue. He held onto the sheets as I took him in my mouth again and began to do my best for him. I wanted this to be about him...and for him to know how much I really did appreciate him. He mustn't ever again think he was just a sex toy for me or something to use. He needed to know I loved him. He needed to know it viscerally and deep inside, so he could never doubt it again, even if I said or did something wrong. He had to know the real me...and so did I.

I was rock hard and leaking, but I didn't matter right now. The gorgeous man before me mattered. I was never going to lose him again if I could help it. I wasn't going to let him down or watch him leave without a fight.

You're mine, baby.

He made a wordless sound of want and hurt and need, all the things he couldn't say in it. The confusion and pain of being in a relationship with a guy like me. The want he couldn't help having. The longing, the love...the need he was almost afraid to let me see in case it made me think worse of him. I wanted him to give it all to me.

You're mine. I'll keep you. Give me everything.

"Oh. Jon. Oh." I could feel it building in him, everything; everything he needed and wanted.

Yes. Yes, Wallace, you're right here. This is the true part. We're together. Hear me now?

#

"I've got a surprise for you, kiddo," I said once Eli was in the car. Despite everything I'd said to Wallace — and felt to be true — my heart was going a little bit faster than normal, having to tell him this and see how he'd react.

Eli looked up from the back seat, his eyes alert. "We're still going to the grocery store?" He seemed appalled that I might have changed my mind.

I swallowed back an awkward laugh. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we?" I cleared my throat. He looked at me with big, nervous eyes, his gaze expectant and worried.

Poor kid was used to bad surprises more than good ones. My heart hurt for him once again. I couldn't fix all the damage his early years with his drug-addled mother had done — the boyfriends she'd paraded through his life, the instability and hunger and cold — but I could try to make the rest of his childhood safer, saner, and more predictable. Once again I hoped this hadn't been a mistake.

"What, Daddy?" asked Eli, beginning to squirm. The kid couldn't sit still for long, especially if he was nervous…