Page 19

Thanksgiving at Blake’s was a quiet affair, which was exactly what I needed. The walk to his house was not long, the streets lined with trees stripped bare by November winds. When I stepped into his driveway, the sight of his home—modest and unassuming, with warm lights glowing in the windows—made something in me settle. This was our space, away from the world and all its expectations. We could be happy in there, even if we could not date in public.

Blake opened the door before I even reached the porch, his smile soft but warm, the kind that made my stomach flip. “Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. He was finally back to his old healthy self, radiating strength like a burly, proud lion .

“Hey,” I said, going in. The air between us felt charged, even in the simplicity of the moment.

The house smelled of roasted turkey and something sweet—cranberry sauce, maybe. The table was set with mismatched plates and silverware, the kind of casual charm that made it feel like home. Blake poured us both glasses of soda, and we settled into the small dining room, the soft hum of Taylor Swift’s Fortnight floating in the background.

“I love this song,” I said, stuffing my mouth with food.

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled, his green eyes boring into mine. “It’ll be our song.”

We laughed and cracked jokes as we ate, the conversation light and easy. He told me about his Thanksgivings growing up, about his parents and the chaos of big family gatherings. I told him about my mom’s obsessive need to make everything perfect, the way my dad would hover over the kitchen like a general commanding troops. Before they divorced and went their separate ways, anyway.

“Do you miss it?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But I’d rather they be happy apart than miserable together. Besides… This is also nice.”

I caught him playing with his wedding ring and my heart felt heavy. He didn’t even realize what he was doing, his gaze downcast, his smile wistful. Would I ever be able to heal the pain he carried inside, to pull him away from the ghosts of his past? All I knew was that I wanted to try. No matter the cost, I wanted to try.

After dinner, we moved to the couch, Addams Family Values playing on TV. Blake pulled me close, his arm draped over my shoulders, and I let myself melt into him, the strength of his body grounding me. It was hard to focus on the movie with him so near, his body pressing into mine, warm and firm, and soon my hand wandered to his crotch on its own. His cock swelled under my touch in seconds, and I fished it out of his sweatpants. Precum was already oozing out of the slit.

I bent down and took him into my mouth, the movie forgotten. He held my head in place, thrusting into my throat, tenderness giving way to pure animalistic need. The next moment, he pulled out and started ripping my clothes off, yanking my pants and undies down for a quick access to my ass. Not bothering with my shirt, he dived straight for my hole, rimming me while he fumbled for the lube. I could only whimper, kneeling on the couch, surrendered to the magic of his tongue. When he sat down, his cock slathered, he placed me onto his lap. I straddled him, lowering myself down on his rod until I was impaled on it balls-deep.

“I want to see you fuck yourself on it,” he demanded.

I followed his command, crouching over him, squatting and rising, faster and faster, his cock going in and out of my hole. I had to hold the back of the couch for support, my quads burning from the exertion, my dick bouncing with every move. But then he grabbed my ass, steadying me, as his hips began to slam into me deep and fast.

“Fuck, Blake, I’m gonna cum,” I moaned while his cock pummeled my prostate.

“Do it, babe,” he growled into my ear. “Come for daddy.”

“Aaaaaah,” I howled in ecstasy. Hearing him say those words turned me on beyond reason, and I erupted all over his shirt, trembling, my cock spurting cum with me barely touching it. A few ropes hit his chin, coating his beard. When his tongue sneaked out to lick it, I thought I might faint. “Wait,” I panted, still catching my breath, the rush of orgasm making me tremble. “I want you to feed me your load.”

Blake lifted me off his lap, his cock plopping out of my ass, and threw me on the sofa. As I sat up, he swiftly removed his pants and briefs, throwing them on the floor. Then he climbed on the couch, legs spread on each side of me, and shoved his cock into my throat. Taking him straight from ass to mouth gave me a new kind of thrill, and judging from the roar above me, he found it hot too. We’d never done this before, but I suspected it wouldn’t be the last time we did.

My hands traveled over his muscular calves, caressing the soft hair, while his cock drove into my mouth without mercy. He gripped the back of the couch, his hips thrusting, his pelvis hitting my face. Choking, I felt his fat prick slide past my uvula and into my gullet, over and over again. “Oh fuck, Tyler, I’m cumming,” he hissed, and the next moment I felt warm semen gush into my burning throat. There was so much I could barely swallow it all, but I kept sucking, kept feeding on it, moaning all the while.

At last, he pulled back and collapsed on top of me, enveloping me in those strong arms. We kissed sloppily, our juices mixing, our kisses stretching into eternity.

* * *

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said after some time, his voice low. We stayed lying half-naked on the couch, pressed together in a firm embrace. We still had our shirts and our socks on, both bare-assed below the waist, our legs entangled. I loved the sensation of sliding my leg up and down his own, the fur providing a soft, sensual friction. The movie was still playing in the background, but neither of us cared.

“Just thinking,” I said, tracing patterns across his large forearm.

“About what?”

“About how much I like this,” I said, glancing up at him. “Being here with you. It feels… right.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Yeah. ”

But that wasn’t entirely true. I tried to focus on the present and enjoy what we had here and now, yet my mind was abuzz with thoughts that wouldn’t let go. I kept remembering him at dinner, playing with his ring without knowing, and the question bubbled inside me until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Blake?”

“Hmm?”

“How did she die? Your wife. Tell me what happened.”

I felt him stiffen beside me. He was silent for so long I began to think he wouldn’t answer me. When I was all but ready to give up, he spoke at last. “It was a car crash. She… She was driving home, and she was hit by a drunk driver. Some passersby saw everything and called the ambulance. The driver’s injuries were not critical, but Jennifer was in a bad condition. Both her legs were broken, along with her pelvis and a few ribs. She had severe head trauma, her lung was punctured, and she was bleeding internally. She died on the way to the hospital.”

I don’t know what I expected to hear. Cancer, maybe, or some other fatal disease that took his wife from him in the prime of her life. I wasn’t prepared for something so random, so violent. “Oh my God, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

He stirred and sat up, turning his back to me. His next words chilled me to my core. “She was eight months pregnant. The baby—our daughter—died too. And it was all my fault. ”

“Jesus!” I jumped from the couch and sat next to him, my hand on his back. “That’s horrible!”

“It was the worst day of my life.”

“God, Blake… I can’t even imagine how that must have felt like. But… it was an accident. A terrible, random accident. How is that your fault?”

“Because I was supposed to be there with her! We had a birthing class that afternoon that we were supposed to attend together. But I was helping one of my buddies paint his apartment, and we went to a bar for drinks later. I lost track of time and forgot all about the class. So Jen took her car and went by herself. And she got killed because I wasn’t there for her.”

His story left me mute. It was too awful, I couldn’t even imagine how it must have felt for him. I could only rub his back, offering what little support I was able to. “It wasn’t your fault, Blake. If anything, it was that drunken asshole’s fault. And if you had been there, maybe you would’ve been killed too.”

“You have no idea how many times I wished I was.”

I squeezed his biceps, holding back the tears. The pain in his voice was unbearable. “Please don’t say that. Please.”

“I began drinking after that,” he droned on, his expression distant, detached. It was probably the only way he could deal with the memory. “Seeking solace in alcohol. But it only made me feel worse. I lost my job, lost my friends. And I became this lonely, angry creature that you know.”

Leaning my head on his shoulder, I hugged him tight. “But you’ve managed to turn your life around. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

He only grunted in response, but he knew I was right. If he hadn’t sought help and overcome his demons, we would’ve never met. And the thought of that made me as sad as his tragic confession. I could only hope that my presence could make him feel just a tiny bit better.

I reached up for his face, turning his head toward me just in time to see one tear roll down his cheek and disappear into his beard. “It’s okay,” I said, blinking my own tears away. “You can cry.”

“No,” he said, but he buried his face in my neck, clutching onto me. “No more crying. I’ve shed enough tears already for a lifetime.”

* * *

When he took me to his bedroom, the world narrowed to just the two of us. The light was dim, the shadows soft against the walls, and Blake’s hands were steady as they roamed over me, slow and deliberate. He removed the rest of my clothes, then his, and for a moment, we simply stood naked, looking at each other. Something was different between us this time—a new sense of intimacy hung in the air, deep and palpable, almost electric. There was reverence in the way he touched me, like he was memorizing every inch of my skin, and it made my heart swell in a way I didn’t think possible.

When we made love, it was unhurried, a quiet communion that felt like an unspoken promise. His mouth glided down my spine, tracing each vertebra until it slid into my cleft and landed on my hole. I loved when he ate my ass, and I loved that he loved doing it. The warmth of his lips on my rim, the flicking of his tongue as he kneaded my glutes, always made my eyes roll back in my head. But nothing could compare to the thrill of having his cock inside me, the ecstatic feeling of him breeding me, planting his seed within me, and claiming me from the inside.

“Blake,” I whimpered beneath him, my body quivering as he picked up his pace, pounding into me hard and fast. “This feels unreal… No one has ever made me feel like this.”

“You’re mine, Tyler,” he groaned into my ear, his chest sweaty on my back. “Say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. Only yours.”

We both moaned as his cock pummeled my prostate, fucking the cum out of me. My orgasm made my hole clench in a series of spasms, milking the cum out of him. Our shouts echoed through the house as we came together, me shooting into his sheets, him spilling into me.

Panting, he collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. We were still joined, unmoving, gasping, our heartbeats thundering. His breath was warm against my neck, his body solid and protective, and I felt like I was falling and flying all at once.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, the sheets twisted around us, our breaths slowing in the quiet of the room. Blake’s fingers traced lazy circles on my stomach, his cum trickling out of my hole, and I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me.

“Stay the night,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

I’ve been here many times, shared his bed often, but this was the first time he asked me to stay. It was another step we hadn’t taken before. “Are you sure?” I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He let out a deep sigh, pulling me closer. “I’m sure.”

* * *

The next morning, we ate breakfast in bed, the fresh batch of pancakes and maple syrup stacked on the tray between us. The conversation was lighter, peppered with jokes and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken that made my chest tighten.

“Finn is getting suspicious,” I said finally, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “He knows I’m seeing someone. He was pressing me two days ago.” At least he was away, visiting his folks in Vermont for the holiday, which gave me more freedom to come and go as I pleased.

Blake’s eyes met mine, steady, serious. “Maybe you should tell him. I, uh, I told Mandy.”

“Wait, what ?” I almost dropped my food. “Professor Richards knows about us?”

“Well, no, not really. I’ve told her I was seeing someone—a guy—but she doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Oh.”

“She’s been very helpful these past two weeks. Helping me understand what I was going through. So, I don’t know, maybe it would be easier for you as well if… if you had someone to talk to.”

I considered the suggestion, mulling over the idea in my head. I mean, I did want to tell Finn everything. But considering his flair for dramatic, it could be dangerous, especially with him being on the team and all. Besides, Matt was there if I wanted someone to talk to, or even Chris, and both were much more discreet than Finn. “What if he finds out the truth?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He kept chewing for some time, his eyes never leaving mine. “We’ll figure it out.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet conviction in his tone, made my heart beat faster. I nodded, leaning in for a kiss between bites, and for the first time, I felt like everything might actually be okay .