Page 133 of Should Our Hearts Catch Fire

So when December rolls around, marking the best time of his life, Gabe throws himself in head first. Because life is great. Ridiculously good, to be honest.

He and Ellis slip into a perfect little routine: Ellis stops at the café to pick up his coffee and lunch (yup, Gabe has officially turned into a good little wife, no regrets). Then they scandalize Zeke and the customers with some PDA before going about their respective days, always one emoji-filled text away.

Ellis has even reduced his working hours, much to his PA’s chagrin, so he can meet Gabe for dinner most days without being in an insane rush. If they spend the night together, it’s always at Ellis’ place—because, let’s face it, a latex mattress is what was missing from Gabe’s life—and wake each other up with mutual handjobs.

Rinse, repeat, until the weekend comes, allowing for breaking up the routine and coming up with something more special.

Like last Sunday, when Gabe manipulated Ellis into coming to a beach yoga class with him. It was all orchestrated under the guise of‘increasing flexibility before arthritis sets in’, but in reality Gabe just wanted to show his boyfriend off. Call him vain, but landing a gorgeous guy half of the Earth’s population would lust after? Hell, yeah, he wants to show him off.

It worked a little too well.

Gabe underestimated how deep his possessive streak runs where Ellis is concerned. So, after enduring one full agonizing hour where he had to watch thirteen women (and one middle-aged man), including the instructor, drool and pant whenever Ellis took the pose of downward facing dog or warrior two, he was finally forced to admit he might have a bit of a problem. Just a tiny one.

Everything only got worse when the session had finished and the whole class flocked to Ellis like a shiver of sharks smelling blood. Ellis didn’t make the situation any better when his polite persona took over, trying to indulge everyone in some small talk, totally unaware that one smile from him could cause a person to spontaneously orgasm.

His control run thin, Gabe all but dragged him away, ignoring the shocked expressions of the group and Ellis’ confused one.Through gritted teeth, he ordered Ellis to get them home stat, curling his fingers into his palms so he wouldn’t accidently start groping him while Ellis had to focus on driving.

Once the door shut behind them in Ellis’ apartment, Gabe literally tore the clothes off him, pushed him onto the sofa—the bedroom was too fucking far—and swallowed his cock until he could feel it in his throat. Ellis was slick with sweat, his skin smelling and tasting of salt and musk, and Gabe went a little (more) feral because of it.

The first time he made Ellis come, it took less than two minutes. He never let him catch his breath before diving in for another round, in spite of Ellis’ feeble protests. Whenever he pulled off, it was to suck and bite at Ellis’ thighs and hips, the skin smooth and unmarked, but quickly turning various shades of red and purple.

Ellis was tugging Gabe’s hair like it was a rope he was hanging onto, making it really hard to concentrate. But concentrate, Gabe did, sucking Ellis’ cock like a hooker desperate for cash. In the heat of the moment, his fingers found their way between Ellis’ cheeks. He felt Ellis tense for a second when he brushed his hole, but then he was opening his legs wider and angling his hips.

Eyes rolling into his head, Gabe circled one finger around Ellis’ rim before pushing it in, shivering at the tightness that enveloped him.

And that was it. Ellis’ body pulled taut like a bowstring stretched to its limit and filled Gabe’s mouth for the second time, the force of his climax triggering Gabe’s own.

When they both found their breath, Ellis asked, “What on earth was that?”

Gabe replied, “That was me, staking a claim on what’s mine.”

Ellis gave himthislook and asked, “Why didn’t you stake it before?”

Gabe decided that taking Ellis to his yoga classes could become a regular thing.

So, yeah. Life is good. Ridiculously good.

And then the other shoe drops.

On a Saturday morning, his legs still jelly from last night’s sex and his side warm where Ellis is pressed up against it, Gabe wakes up to a text from Dawson. The foreboding feeling in his stomach is his first warning before he even reads it.

Dawson:I talked to Cal. He thinks you’re right.

Dawson:I don’t.

Dawson:He’s ready when you are.

Gabe should be happy. This is what he wanted, for Ellis to know the truth. For himself to not have to keep secrets. And now, Cal finally agreed to spill the beans.

Heshouldbe happy. He should.

Gabe never thought that having someone’s unconditional trust could hurt. But it does.

It hurts to know how much Ellis trusts him.

It hurts that he doesn’t question it when Gabe tells him he needs Ellis to meet him at the café after it closes for the day. That he isn’t at all suspicious when he comes in to find Dawson and Cal are there too.

And why should he be? He has no idea what life-altering truth he’s about to learn, probably thinking this is a surprise double-date. And he doesn’t even seem upset by not being given a heads-up.