Chapter Text
Julio
“So are we going to start telling people?” David says breathlessly as I hold my boy in our post-fuck haze. It catches me off guard.
“What?”
I’m so glad he came back and that he loves me like I love him, but I’m more focused on feeling my seed seeping out of his butt as I gently massage his hole for another round.
“Telling the people that matter,” he coos as I push my finger past his rim, using my cum as sloppy lube. He moans as I work my cum back into him. I never knew I’d find raw dogging so hot.
I consider his words. I don’t remember talking about this. After telling the kids at Christmas, I thought I was done. The people who need to know, know. I add another finger and roll it in small circles inside him as I answer. “I told the kids. You told your mum and Nick. I thought we were done… well, except for your dad.”
“Fuck. Him.” David groans, arching his back as I finger him up to my knuckles. He doesn’t need too much prep, but I love playing with his butt. I resist the urge to say “been there, done him” and occupy my mouth by kissing his fuzzy tit. I feel David’s bum quiver and clench around my fingers.
“Rather fuck you,” I growl, scooting lower and kissing his chubbing dick. I remove my fingers from his hole, and he jerks slightly on the mattress. When he calms down, he sits up, balancing on his elbows. His brown eyes are dark and dilated, heavily lidded, and the wisp of his moustache is sweaty and sparkling on his flushed face, gold on crimson. His chest rises and falls as he breathes deeply. God, I love wrecking my boy.
“God, yes,” he sighs deeply. I snicker and shake my head. He laughs as well, his head falling onto the pillow as he releases his arms. “You know, if you asked me a year ago if I’d be in love with a man, let alone dating him, I’d have laughed in your face.”
I nod, understanding. We’re nearing one year of our evolving relationship, and I feel the same. I never expected this. It feels like he has more to say, so I sit back on my ankles and wait. He sits up on his elbows again, his eyes darting to mine, and when he sees I’m not talking, he continues, brushing his bare foot against my thigh and working it between my legs. His toes touch my balls, and it sends a shiver through me. My cock hangs heavily near his foot, but he doesn’t touch it.
“I mean, I’d have said it’s just sex, just a need for this filling me up,” David says with a naughty smirk, tilting his foot to jostle my joystick. His smirk turns to a shy smile, and I can see him relaxing, his body curving back onto the mattress. His voice is soft and dream-like. “But now… well, I still need that, but I need the rest of you, too.”
I feel a prickling in my eyes, and I blink quickly to dispel any tears before they come. It’s not that I don’t feel I can cry in front of my Davito; I simply don’t want to break the mood. My chest swells as I breathe deeply, air and love and awe filling my body. After Jane, I vowed never to be in a relationship again. It’s too much hassle, and I’m a selfish man, but like our wedding vows, I broke this one as well. I don’t mind one bit.
David scoots back so he’s sitting against the headboard, his legs pulled up and spread before me. His loosened hole leaks on my duvet, but I don’t care. David’s given me his heart, and I cherish him. He’s a part of me as much as part of me is inside him. I clear my throat and reply, “I need you, too.”
He smiles and drops his hands between his legs, absentmindedly playing with himself as he adds, “And I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want you to be just Charlie’s dad or my family friend or have to worry about someone seeing us and finding out like I did about Dad. I want to tell the people who matter about the man who loves me and that I love.” He pauses. “Is that okay?”
I inhale and hold it. It’s complicated. We’re complicated, but we’re not bad or wrong. I’m not ashamed of him or us, and we deserve to be happy together. It’ll take some finessing and planning to break the news to our families, but I can do this. No, we can do this, and if it makes my boy happy, I’m game. “Yeah.”
David’s smile grows wide and he reaches for me. I rise off my ankles, take his hands in mine, and fall on top of him, our arms circling each other as we roll around, kissing and giggling like teens. When we land with me on my back, David adjusts himself so he’s straddling my hips. He stares at me as he reaches for the lube and applies it to both of us. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches behind himself, grabs my cock, and sits on it. Once I’m inside him, he exhales and smiles at me. “Perfect.”
David
I admit it. I’m still slightly unsettled that Julio fucked my dad. It feels so Greek or Shakespearean or something, but I was never good at the classics or literature, so I could be wrong. All I know is I never expected my dad to be queer. He always seemed so manly, like Kevin Costner. Using Nick’s scale, he’d have been a five. I definitely wouldn’t think he’d ever bottom, but I guess he’s just like Nick and me. Jesus, who had the Nelson/Fournier men loving being dicked down on their bingo card?
Julio hasn’t shared much else, and I don’t need to know the details. I understand why Dad liked it, though. Julio’s cock is just… I could swing on it like I was Tarzan. We, Julio and I, are different from dad and him. We’re not whatever the fuck he and Dad had. We love each other. In many ways, we’re made for each other and not just in a missing piece, literally, filling the void inside me. Dick is easy to get, but what we have isn’t.
As I lower myself on his python, Julio reaches towards me, and I take his hands in mine. It helps brace me as I impale myself, but when our fingers intertwine, it confirms our connection. We’re not just fucking around anymore. We’re making love, as cringy as it sounds in my head. No one’s ever fucked me as tenderly as he does, even when he’s pounding into me and filling the room with the sound of spanks, claps, and sloppy kissing.
Once my bum hits his hips and my balls fall on his pubes, I rest and acclimate to his root being planted to the base. Between deep breaths and clenches, I listen to my body and let it mould around him like a familiar cast. I look at him and smile. “Perfect.”
We begin moving with me taking control and riding him like a cowboy. Between grunts and moans and sticky slapping from his leftover cum mixing with the fresh lube, we hold each other’s gazes. While I still like being pushed into the mattress and taken from behind, this is what I need now as I bounce on his boner. I lift one of our joined hands and kiss it as I pause and sit on his dick.
“Fuck, David,” Julio moans, thrusting below me as we grind so his pubic hair and my ball sack jiggle. “No one takes me like you do, all of me.”
I watch my thick cock bob at the compliment and lean forward to kiss him. “I love all of you. Only you. Inside me and out.”
“You’re so good to me, my boy,” he sighs as he kisses back. He releases my hands and reaches behind me to cup my arse. I hiss at the touch, delighting in his big hands cupping me, pulling me apart. I rise up onto my knees and he starts fucking me from below. He’s grunting into my mouth as we kiss and fuck. “So good. Your tight little butt, my hole.”
“Yeah? Gonna claim your hole?” I gasp as his fucking intensifies. “Gonna feed me?”
“Fuck, yes, gonna give my hungry boy my daddy milk,” he grunts, clutching my bum before crying out. I feel his dick pulsing inside me and wet warmth. I moan into his mouth, driving my tongue inside him so I can feel our connection with all my senses.
“Daddy,” I gasp. We kiss and moan and swirl with each other until I come from the pressure between us as I ride the ridges of his ripped belly. When we’re done and a wet, gloopy mess on the bed, he wipes me down with a warm flannel and holds me, dropping kiss after kiss on my head. I feel more loved than I’ve ever experienced, and I know it’s special for only us. I’m his boy, and he’s my man.
—
On the train back to Glasgow, I reflect on how crazy it is that we’re together and work so well. And it’s not just in the bedroom. He gets me, and I’ve changed for the best with him. I can make mistakes and learn and be a good boy for him, and he keeps me in check and pushes me outside of my echo chambers. It’s win-win.
I’m excited to be able to tell my mates about him, well, excited and scared. We’re not like Nick and his friends who all seem to know everything about being queer and have the emotional maturity and discussions of a mid-1990s teen drama. We drink beers and talk shit and aren’t afraid to piss people off by being honest, but as I’ve learned over the last year, our honesty isn’t tactful or considerate. I hope I don’t get that version of my friends, but it’d probably serve me right.
When we’re all back from the Easter holiday, my flatmates and I decide to spend an evening watching a film and enjoying each other’s company since we’re nearing both the end of our time as flatmates and at university and because we’re about to become hermits as we study for our final exams.
Julio sent me back with some provisions based on what I like at his place, and I use it to make a tray of smoked salmon and nibbly things like cheese, figs, and honeycomb. I add some crackers and open a bottle of Tesco’s finest wine. I’m not going to repeat last year’s messy Every Day in May, and I’m excited for something other than microwave popcorn and cheap beer. God, is this growing up?
“What should we watch?” Fiona asks as she scrolls through options on Netflix. Everything in her profile is period dramas and romances. She stops on The King’s Speech. “Oooo, what about this? It’s been a while since I saw it.”
No, fuck that. I might be growing a little bougie in my food and drink, but I’m not grown up enough to pretend to want to watch a stodgy historical drama. “Absolutely not!”
“Fine! So what do you want to watch?” Fi bunches her lips in disappointment and keeps scrolling. I offer some suggestions. Super Mario Brothers Movie, Fast and the Furious, The Wild Robot — what? It’s a cute film, and I feel for Brightbill and their found family. Fi vetos every one, even Top Gun: Maverick. I don’t understand how she would refuse to watch it. Jets, aerial fights, hot actors. It’s win-win. Even Nick’s dorky Asian friend, the one who natters about the cinema and Donnie what’s it, would like it.
“Well, I’m out of ideas,” I huff, sitting loudly and aggressively on the sofa and sipping my wine. Fi rolls her eyes at me and goes back to scrolling Netflix. Mark tells her to stop when he sees Inside Man. I perk up, too.
“That one!” He points at the screen as a clip of the movie begins playing. Mark and I have watched this film dozens of times. It’s our main rewatchable. As Clive Owen fills the screen, I feel my heart beat faster as it has since I first saw him in this. He’s gruff and calm and so dominant. Was this my bisexual awakening? I don’t think so. Jodie Foster does nothing for me. Not my type at all even if she’s an amazing actress, but as I feel myself chub while watching Clive, I definitely understand my sudden desire to watch every film he’d been in after seeing it. God, I really was in denial, wasn’t I?
“I don’t know. That’s not really my sort of film,” Fi demurs, but she seems unsure.
“It’s so good,” Mark promises.
“And it’s got Denzel,” I emphasize before adding without thinking, “And Clive Owen is fit as fuck.”
I exhale and fan myself before I realise what I said and did, inhaling quickly and a little too loudly. Fi’s head is cocked and she’s staring at me through squinting eyes.
“Mate, what?” Mark asks, matching Fiona’s expression. I could play it off, like I was trying to sell the film to Fiona, but I decide to rip the plaster and tell them. It’s what Julio and I discussed, telling those that matter. After three years with Mark and two with Fiona, they matter more than most others.
“Clive is hot,” I admit, my voice dry and cracking. I take a sip of wine to lubricate my throat.
“Obviously,” Fi agrees, shaking her head as if to say “so?”
“I’m just saying I’d let him do things to me if he wanted,” I reply, guzzling the rest of my glass before placing it roughly on the table.
“Okayyyyy,” Mark drawls, watching me. He licks his lips, looks at Fiona, and continues. “Shit, I didn’t have this on my bingo card.”
“I did. It was my bonus square,” Fiona casually replies, popping some wensleydale into her mouth and chewing smugly. Wait, Bingo card? Bonus square? I look between them, hoping to catch their eye and get an explanation. Did they create a literal card?
“You had David liking Clive Owen?” Mark’s mouth gapes open like a gasping salmon. Fiona shakes her head.
“Not David and Clive necessarily, but I have him experimenting with a guy,” Fi says with a laugh. It’s not cruel, more triumphant, and I’m confused.
“I cannot believe this. I had you over David,” Mark huffs.
“There’s still time.” Fiona shrugs with a smirk, pressing play. Mark shakes his head, takes a drink and refills my glass. My head continues to turn between them, and I crack my neck.
“Wot?”
“Flatmate Bingo. We’ve been playing it all year,” Fiona says casually, like this is common knowledge. “Well, Mark and I have. It sort of happened one weekend when we were bored and watching TikTok. You were gone for the weekend on one of your trips, and I used my cricut to make some.”
“Wait, were the trips really booty calls?” Mark asks, finally talking to me again. I blush, not realising my visits with Julio were so frequent or noticed. Mark smiles and laughs. “They were! You dog, you!”
“They were, yeah, but…” I trail off. My face flames and I sink into my seat. I’m flustered and trying to find the right words to reframe this. I’m still caught by the actual bingo business. I don’t know where to begin. “I still like girls. I just like men, too. I’m bisexual, I guess.”
“Cool,” Mark replies.
“I’m still chuffed I had it on my bingo card,” Fiona preens. My mouth drops open.
“This isn’t a surprise?” I ask. Both of them look at me and shrug. That’s it? That’s their reaction? This isn’t what I expected, but I don’t know what I actually imagined it’d be. I thought it would be some shock because I don’t seem queer and they know I still hook up with random girls.
“Did you want it to be?” Fiona asks, her face frowning slightly.
“Well, yeah, I guess I didn’t expect bingo and–” I gesture between the two of them and their blitheness.
“We didn’t expect it–” Mark starts before Fiona interrupts.
“I did!”
Mark rolls his eyes. “Nah, mate. If you’d have told me when we met that you’d be dipping your wick in another lad’s pot, I’d have laughed you off. But, Christ, everyone’s a little gay in the right circumstances.” I squint at him. That seems a little dubious, especially when he quickly adds, “Not me, though. I’m a puss man. And it sounds like Fi’s gonna become a muff diver before we graduate.”
“Fuck off, Mark,” Fiona says, laughing as she kicks him. I grimace at Mark’s comment. I used to think that kind of talk was funny, but now it’s just crass. I look away from them towards the television. It’s still in the opening credits, but I focus on the words on the screen and the setting. Fiona clears her throat, and I look sideways at her.
“David, here’s the deal. You’re our friend. We love you. We support you. If you’re bisexual, that’s great. The bingo card, the jokes, it’s all banter, something to do to relieve tension. We’re sorry if we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us.”
I turn my head and look at both of them. Mark’s blushing and looks away. Fiona’s face is softer, all laughs and flippancy gone.
“Thanks,” I manage to say. I consider what she’s said and weigh it against our usual friendly banter and vibe. Neither of them have ever been particularly judgmental, and while we bicker at times, it’s more like how I imagine normal siblings behave with each other than whatever Nick and I had growing up. Fiona smiles at me and nudges Mark’s knee. He looks up and smiles.
“We got you,” he says, turning his attention to the television. I smile back and join him, and soon Clive’s face fills the screen and he’s talking to us in his rich baritone. My belly flips, my cock tingles, and I feel like jelly. I reposition myself on the sofa, covering my lap. I bite my lower lip. I might even make a small “eep.” Yes, Daddy Clive.
“Oh my god, how am I just realising this is why you’re like this when we watch the film?” Mark asks with a chuckle, and my eyes widen. “It’s all good, David. Just never made the connection.” I blush hard, and he continues. “So older men, huh?”
“Maybe,” I shrug, and I think about Julio and see the parallels between Clive and him. I reach for the remote and pause the film, turning to my friends. I guess it’s as good as any time to tell them. “So, erm, I have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” Fiona says, raising her eyebrows.
“A daddy?” Mark asks jokingly before noticing me sucking my lips into my mouth. “You’re dating a daddy?”
I nod and take a deep breath. “Technically, yeah. He’s a literal father. He’s twenty-one years older than I am.”
“Wow, for real?” Fiona looks at me with wide eyes. I nod again.
“Isn’t that weird?” Mark asks, and I look to see if he’s being cheeky, but he seems sincere.
“Not really, no. He’s kind and sweet and doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid. We’ve been together for a little over a year, but we’ve only been boyfriends for a few months.”
“But you’ve been fucking girls all year, well, not all year, but if you’ve been together, how come you’re still sleeping with girls?” Mark asks.
“We’re ethically non-monogamous,” I share, and both of them stare at me agog. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“I have. I wasn’t born in the 1900s,” Fiona laughs. Mark looks confused, and she explains it to him. “We learned about it in my sociology lecture. They aren’t monogamous. They’re in an open relationship of sorts where they can date or have sex with others, but they’re committed to each other.”
She looks at me, and I nod back and add, “We have the option even if we don’t use it, but we communicate and talk about opportunities and negotiate boundaries.”
Mark’s face changes and his eyes unfocus as he processes what we’ve said. Finally, he refocuses on me. “Just tell me you’re being safe.”
“I am,” I answer. “We both are. It’s one of our agreements.”
“So long as you’re safe and happy, mate,” Mark nods and turns back to the film.
“What does he look like?” Fiona asks, sipping her wine and tucking her legs under her.
I gesture towards the screen where Clive’s face stares at us mid-word. “Like that but better.”
“Nice,” she replies, smiling before gesturing for me to come closer. I shuffle next to her and she puts her arm around me. “Good taste.”
I settle into her embrace, and we resume the movie night. The knot I’ve been working to untie inside me loosens somewhat, not enough to unbind but enough to give room to breathe and grow.
Julio
After seeing David off at the train, I think some more about our conversation and sharing our relationship status with people now that we’re past the Stephane issue. Well, as past as we can be. We haven’t talked further about him or if we’ll come out to him. I’m letting David take the lead. So long as he’s happy with what we do, I’m happy.
I’m less happy about having to tell people. It’s not that I’m ashamed of being gay or being with David — far from it. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Love is love, even if there’s a twenty-one year age gap. It’s the other stuff that worries me. All my friends and colleagues are married with kids. I did that already, and it wasn’t for me. While I don’t regret my children, it’s not what David or I want. He still wants to be able to enjoy the occasional woman, and I love the freedom to have some fun at the bathhouse. I love David more, though. It’s simply no one else’s business who I dick down.
And there’s no way I’m ready to tell Charlie and everyone in the family that I’m David’s daddy as well as their father, not yet. It’s inescapable, but we need time to prepare for that. I’m thinking maybe after Nick and Charlie’s eventual wedding or Olly’s graduation or maybe a deathbed confession of my own where I reintroduce David as their brother-in-law/stepfather.
No. None of these scenarios are fair to David. He wants this. He’s happier now than I’ve ever seen him. I’m happy, too, and it’ll be harder to be together in the long run if we keep hiding it from our families and friends. I can admit to myself that I want a long run with him. I decide to take small steps towards telling people. It’s a bit of a double outing as I haven’t shared this part of my life with many people besides my kids. I don’t see many of my uni mates often enough, especially since they were all part of a couple-based circle when I was with Jane. I still see one of them frequently, and he’s always been my best mate. Telling him might help him understand why Jane and I divorced as I never told him the full truth, and he’s still confused about it.
George’s been my best mate since Fresher’s Week. We hit it off immediately, and I spent more time in his room than my own. He was the first man in my actual life I crushed on, but after a drunken blowie after a night out, my crush quickly turned to genuine friendship, albeit one where we fooled around when drunk and continued on as normal in the morning. I’m not sure how he’ll react, but he’s the best place to start.
We make plans for lunch at a local pub we’ve been going to for years — first when we were uni students and then when I’d take the train up from Rochester for our monthly meet ups. It helps that it’s near my work so I can have an excuse for a quick exit if I need it. I rehearse what I’m going to say the whole drive over, but when I finally sit down across from him, my throat goes dry. We’re in the same booth we always sit, and our perennial server Edie makes sure we’re set as she has for the past twenty years.
“You know this is the only time I get to eat this shit,” George says as he stuffs his face with vinegar-covered chips. “Oona hasn’t let fried food into the house since Sean was born.”
“It’s been seven years!” I snort and take a sip of water, leaving my beer untouched and wishing it were a stronger cocktail.
“Right? But even after he was born, she couldn’t take the smell, and with Ella and Kit, the smell just makes her sicker. Eh, at least we have this,” George replies, gesturing between us with a wand of fried cod.
I take a small bite of my hamburger. The usually familiar richness of fried onions, beef, and cheddar feels tasteless on my tongue. My throat is thick, and it takes me too long to swallow, the weight of habit making this harder rather than easier. I put my food down and push the plate away before looking at George.
He holds my gaze, takes a sip of his lager, and glances at me. “You look like a man about to confess to murder.”
I let out a short laugh, wondering what I must look like. “Not murder. But something.”
George puts his half-eaten fish back in the basket and raises an eyebrow, sitting back in his seat. He’s always been good at waiting me out, so there’s no point in keeping it in. I take a deep breath.
“I’m seeing someone,” I start, and his eyebrows raise higher into his receding hairline. He smiles slightly. It’s encouraging, so I continue. “It’s… different this time.”
George leans forward, his slight smile growing to a curious smirk. “Different how?”
“He’s twenty-one.” I let the pronoun hang between us on purpose.
The smile falters for just a second, and I wonder whether it’s the use of he or the age that startles him. The corners of his lips quickly turn back up, though I can’t read the tone of his smirk. “He?”
“Yeah.” My chest feels tight, constricting around my racing heart, but I push through. I have to. It’s already out there, and David deserves me being open with my best friend. “I’m gay, Georgie. I’ve known for a long time. Longer than I let myself admit. Jane, the kids, that was real. I loved her at one point, but I was living with a part of myself turned off. Until I turned it on.”
His face shifts as I talk, not into shock exactly, but recognition. He opens his mouth and rubs his chin as the same bits I recontextualised take shape for him. “Back at uni. The two of us. All those drunk nights.”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile, a little wistful. God, I would have loved to fuck his uni arse, but it was never in the cards. “That wasn’t just fooling around for me, but I shoved it aside like you did, pretending it was just drunk experimentation. I tried to be the man everyone expected, that my parents insisted upon, and for a while, I almost convinced myself I was.”
George nods slowly, taking it in. He doesn’t look away, which I take as a sign to keep going.
“It’s serious with him,” I add. “But we’re not exclusive, not like that. He’s…” I pause, not sure how to say this without making it seem like I’m grooming him or anything. “...younger, still figuring himself out, likes girls, too, so he’s bisexual. He has the whole sweet shop in front of him. So do I. And I don’t want to get married again, not ever, at least not like what Jane and I had. What we’ve got, it works. It’s open, honest, serious without being tied down. We’ve negotiated everything.”
There’s a pause while George studies me. After twenty-some years, I should be able to read him well, but I don’t know what he’s thinking, and it’s scary. Telling the people that matter… is fucking terrifying. Then he huffs out a laugh and the knot in my chest loosens. “You always were a control freak. Even your freedom has rules.”
That makes me grin. If he only knew about my good boy.
“Doesn’t change anything between us,” he says firmly yet with a shrug. “You’re still you. Just… more of you, I guess?”
I exhale for what feels like the first time during this meal. “I was scared you’d think less of me, or worse, be mad at me.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t get mad at a man for finally being honest about who he is. We’ve dealt with too much toxic man shit in our lives.” His eyes flick down to his glass, then back up. “And if you’re waiting for me to be scandalised about the age gap… well, I’m not your dad. Might rinse you, but it’s not my relationship.”
I laugh, a little too loud, earning a glance from the next table. I quickly rein it in and think about what George has said. I honestly wasn’t expecting this level of empathy from him. I can’t say I would have shown the same. I’d have rinsed him good if he were dating someone younger, even if in jest, and that, of all my faults, makes me ashamed. I need to be a better human and not pretend banter’s harmless.
“God, I can’t even bring myself to imagine telling my parents,” I admit. They matter, but I’m not sure the cost is worth the opportunity.
“They might surprise you,” George offers before shaking his head. I consider his words. It’s unlikely they’d be happy even if they accepted the truth. I shake my head and we both laugh ruefully before saying together, “No, they won’t.”
“And… are you going to tell the others?” he asks once we’re quiet again, casual but curious.
I shrug. “Not yet. Jane and the kids know I’m gay and that I have a boyfriend. Just not who he is. Some things need time.” And plotting by Shakespeare, I think.
George nods, as if that’s perfectly reasonable. “Fair. But when you do, they’re lucky to have a guy like you being honest. That’s all that matters.”
I nod back, my throat tight. He makes it all sound so easy and real. We need to be honest with our families; it just feels more complex.
When I catch George’s eye across the table, I see not just my oldest friend, but the first person who ever made me feel like this part of me was possible. I wish David were in London tonight. I need to hold my boy and process all this with the person who made that possibility a reality.