I woke Sunday morning with a smile I hadn’t remembered having on my face in eons. I’d asked Kennedy for a date, and he’d accepted. I perused the internet to find a sushi restaurant because I remembered it was his favorite meal back in college. I finally settled on a location outside of Spokane, and I’d called them to make a reservation for seven o’clock, and I began the staring contest with the clock, willing the hours to pass quicker.

Since I wouldn’t be drinking, I decided to drive instead of taking a cab or securing a car service. I actually hadn’t had the car out in a while, so I called down to the garage and asked for it to be detailed that day.

I worked out at the gym down the street, sans Topher because he and Candace had gone away with her parents for the weekend, thankfully. When I got home, I took a shower and had an excellent wank, remembering the only time I’d ever made love to Kennedy.

I know I’ve always been the one to do you, but maybe you’d like a go,” he offered as we showered after a run on a spring Saturday morning during freshman year.

We’d gone out with our roommates the night before, and when they both picked up girls, we went back to my room because I hated staying in his. It was a filthy stye because he and Taylor, his roommate, were pigs, so when we had the lucky opportunity for our roommates to either go home for the weekend or hook up, Kennedy slept with me.

I laughed. “A go?”

Look, it’s new to both of us, and I think we should try to figure out if I’m going to be the top or if you’re going to be the top. Maybe we’ll be a couple who likes to switch?” Kennedy suggested while soaping me up, paying attention to my cock as never before.

I was worried about things because I’d never fucked anyone, and what if I wasn’t good at it? “Babe, I’m not sure if I’d know what to do,” I admitted with a gasp as he washed my balls and stroked his finger over my hole.

Hey, I figured it out, and I remember you were quite pleased with the results. Plus, I’d like to know how it feels. I mean, unless you don’t think you want to try it. It’s up to you, Thorn,” he offered.

I swallowed hard and bucked up, literally, into his hand. “I’ll try. If I can’t, you won’t be disappointed, will you…gah!” The pinch of my foreskin let me know he was all for me trying.

After our shower, we wrapped towels around our waists and finished up by brushing teeth. I dried Kennedy’s back before he dried mine, both of us climbing into my horrible little bed. I prepared him as he’d done to me previously, and I slipped on the condom and centered myself at his entrance. “Tell me immediately if I do anything wrong, okay?” I whispered as I kissed his neck. He nodded quickly, and I pushed the head of my cock inside him after I slathered it up with lube to be sure I didn’t hurt him. Mine had more girth than his though he was longer, and I didn’t ever want to hurt him.

Once I was adequately seated inside him—which had me teetering on the edge of losing my shit fast—I took a deep breath, emptied my mind of all the nonsense, and went about showing my boyfriend a good time. I established a good rhythm which we both seemed to enjoy, and my confidence was building. Kennedy began meeting me stroke for stroke, and when I glanced down to watch myself entering his body, I came inside the condom in record time. It wasn’t the most stellar performance, but the sensation was such, I couldn’t hold back. When I pulled out of him, I immediately took him into my mouth, and it was only a few bobs of my head and taking him down my throat before he shot off.

After he stopped pulsing in my mouth, I slipped off the condom and tossed it into the trashcan by the bed, crawling up next to him. “I’m sorry,” I apologized for the horrific showing I’d given.

He was still breathing hard, and his body had a slight sheen of sweat. I leaned forward and swept my tongue over his collarbone, gathering the salty taste of him I loved so much. He shuddered pleasantly.

Dear god, why are you sorry? It was amazing, baby. Did you not like it?” he asked nervously.

No, no. That’s not it. It’s just I didn’t last as long as you. I wasn’t able to make you come like you do me. Obviously, I’m not good at it,” I lamented as I lay on my back, looking up at the ceiling in embarrassment.

Kennedy turned to me and kissed me gently. “You don’t know how wrong you are. I was so close, Thornton. I mean, you only had my cock in your mouth for like five seconds. You hit the spot inside me I didn’t know existed. Hey, I didn’t last that long when I was inside you the first few times. You’re cock…Jeez,” he whispered as he moved back to kiss my mouth.

As I released in the shower, I remembered how naïve I’d been back then. Over time, I’d become a more-confident top, and I’d definitely built up more stamina.

I wasn’t sure how it would go if Kennedy and I ever found ourselves in that situation again because I hadn’t bottomed for anyone but him. I wasn’t sure about him, but I’d grown used to being the more dominant partner. I’d changed, and I hoped Kennedy could accept it.

I was putting the cart before the horse, to be sure, but I couldn’t help the feelings. I’d forgotten how fantastic it was to be in Kennedy’s presence and how intimacy with him could become a craving. The emotions were overwhelming, and they were something I’d missed.

I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. I decided to shave because it was early in the day and by the time we got to the date—because it was a date—I’d have a little bit of stubble that I remembered he used to like.

I went to the kitchen after I threw on shorts and a t-shirt. I made myself an egg white omelet with peppers and onions, and I turned on a Sunday news show for a little background noise. My phone chimed, so I picked it up, hitting the button for the incoming text. It was from Lark Nutter.

I’m sorry to bother you, but could you call me when you have a minute? Lark

I ate my breakfast first, and after I cleaned up the mess, I called her. “Hello?” she greeted quietly.

“How’d you get my number? How the fuck did you get my address, by the way?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m able to do a lot of things when I set my mind to it. I’m sorry to interrupt your Sunday, but KC got a lawyer, so I’m taking Jude away. I can’t tell Kennedy where we’re going, and I just can’t tell him… I can’t tell him the truth,” she explained with a sniffle. For a moment, I forgot Kennedy’s father was a “KC” as well, but I did remember one time when a guy called Kennedy “KC,” and he quickly shut it down.

“I’m Kennedy, Kenny, or Ken. Don’t fuckin’ call me KC. That guy’s an asshole.”

I quickly came back to the present when Lark’s words actually registered in my mind. Goddamn her! She can’t do that! “You can’t do that to him! If you take Jude away without any warning or explanation, Lark… I think if you come clean with Kennedy and we’re all there for him, he’ll take it better. He’ll be hurt, no doubt, but if he’s been there since Jude was a baby, you can’t deny the fact he’s the boy’s father, whether his blood runs through Jude’s veins or not. If you take Jude away without explanation, you might as well just hand him the bottle,” I admonished without a second thought.

She’d told me to be there for him, but she wasn’t planning to give him any choice regarding how he feels about knowing he’s not Judah’s biological father? She’d been parenting with Kennedy for eight years. Even with his battle for his sobriety, she had to know Kennedy loved that little boy with all his heart, and while it would be a shock, Kennedy wouldn’t walk away from Jude.

Hell, I had more faith in Kennedy than she did, and we’d had a horrible break-up. Yes, he’d be upset… devastated, maybe. But the Kennedy I knew, the Kennedy I loved, would come to terms with it. He wasn’t one to run from what he deemed were his responsibilities. She wasn’t giving him credit, but I was.

“I just can’t, Thornton. He’s going to… It’s going to hurt him, and I won’t stay here to witness it. You hurt him badly when you left, and you didn’t stick around to see the damage. Why can’t you afford me the same courtesy?” she snapped at me.

She definitely should have thought about that shit before she purported an eight-year charade. “You are the reason Kennedy is going to be hurt! You need to step up to the plate and take his vitriol, Lark,” I told her.

I heard her sniff and then, “You’re right. I’ll handle it.” She hung up on me, and I prayed—I prayed she wouldn’t let him down. I had every faith he’d come around and do the right thing. She just needed to have the same confidence in Kennedy.


I dressed in a pair of black slacks and a light blue button-down shirt, checking my appearance once more before I went to the garage to retrieve my keys from the attendant.

“Harry, I’m here to pick up my keys,” I told him. He was in his mid-sixties, and he was a reasonably affable guy. He always laughed when we talked about my car.

“Mr. Marsh, Pearl’s ready for ya, and she’s all gussied up. I think you’ll be happy. We took extra special care with her,” he offered. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill, seeing the gratitude because the detailing was only fifty dollars. The color was actually Morning Frost White, but the guys in the garage called the car Pearl, and I thought it was funny.

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate how you take care of her,” I told him as I walked over to the car and hopped inside, seeing how perfect it looked. It was an extravagance to be sure, but I loved it.

“Have a great night, Mr. Marsh,” he called after me as I drove out of the garage. I lifted my hand in thanks and headed on my way.

At the red light, I punched Kennedy’s address into the GPS. After twenty minutes, I found myself in front of a lovely, whitewashed brick home in what appeared to be a charming neighborhood. I hopped out of the car, which I parked in the driveway, and I nervously rang the doorbell. I had butterflies tap dancing in my gut to be sure.

Kennedy opened the door with a worried look on his face. “Oh, it’s you,” he greeted as he stepped aside.

I stayed on the porch. “I’m on time. We agreed on six-thirty, right?” I worried he’d changed his mind, but when a boy with big, brown eyes and dark hair showed up behind him, I knew something else was going on.

“No, no, you’re on time. Please come in. Jude, this is my friend, Mr. Marsh. This is my son, Judah,” Kennedy introduced. I extended my hand, and the boy stared up at Kennedy. “Shake it,” Kennedy ordered quietly.

The little guy did, and then he walked away. I looked at Kennedy who was worried. “Please come in. Lark seems to be running late. She, uh, this is unusual for her. Jude, do me a favor and go get your hamper. Put it in the laundry room, will you?” Kennedy asked.

The boy walked away, and Kennedy pulled me into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Thornton. Lark has never been late a day in her life. I thought they’d be gone before you got here. I know you don’t want to see Lark, so maybe we should try this tomorrow night. She, um, she’s not answering her phone, and I can’t leave Jude to go to her house to see what’s going on,” he whispered.

“Do you trust me with your son?” I asked.

“Of course. Why?”

“Maybe you go to her house and check on her. Sometimes things come up, or maybe she fell asleep and just lost track of time?” I offered.

He looked back when we heard a loud thumping sound coming down the hallway. When Jude walked into the kitchen, dragging a laundry bag behind him, I chuckled a bit. He looked unhappy, and I tried to remember being his age. Nothing registered, and I knew I was the least likely person to be able to entertain an eight-year-old boy, but I plowed forward with false confidence.

“Jude, do you play video games? Your dad and I used to spend weekends having video game tournaments.” I saw the boy’s face light up, and he turned to Kennedy.

“Can I take him into my room? Does he know how to play ‘EG’?” Jude asked with a light in his eyes.

Kennedy laughed. “I’d guess he can play any game you want. We used to play all kinds of games back in the day. Explain to him how it works, and I’m sure he’ll pick it up. I’ll be back,” Kennedy announced. Jude hurried off, and I looked at Kennedy for any last-minute words of advice.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Will you be okay?” Kennedy asked.

“Sure. The kid’s eight. What can’t I handle?” I asked, feigning a bravado I didn’t have at all. He chuckled at me, knowing all my tells, and walked out the front door.

I walked down the hall, following the sounds of an applauding crowd. I found Jude sitting on the end of his bed smiling. I sat down next to him. “So, golf? I don’t play golf, so you’ll have to show me,” I told him.

The kid proceeded to demonstrate how to play the game, and while I wasn’t good at it—based on his ringing giggle every time it was my turn—I was able to keep him distracted for an hour before he paused the game and turned to me. “Are you my dad’s… Are you and Dad… Are you dating my dad?” he asked, finally arriving at a question.

I knew getting antsy with the kid wouldn’t be wise, so I decided to take another path. “We’re good friends. We’ve been good friends for a long time. We lost touch for a few years, but we ran into each other recently, and we’re both happy about it,” I answered him as honestly and vaguely as possible.

I saw his shoulders sag a bit, and I was immediately concerned. “Does that bother you?”

“No. I kinda hoped you were the special person Dad talks about. I really like you.” I felt my heart clench at his words because I hoped I was that particular person as well. Without Kennedy there to run interference, I didn’t really know what to say.

“Your dad and I have been friends for a very long time, so no worries. I really like you, too,” I told him. I heard his stomach growl, and I looked at my watch seeing Kennedy had been gone for a little more than an hour.

“Hey, you’re hungry. Let’s go see if we can find anything in the kitchen. If not, we can get carry out,” I offered.

He turned off the television and took my controller, placing both of them on the entertainment center. “I think we got leftover meatloaf and mashed ‘tatoes,” he replied.

I followed him to the kitchen as he pulled out containers. I looked around the kitchen and found enough to put together a meal, so I fixed him dinner. After things were heated, I made him a plate and offered him milk for which he nodded. While he ate the food, I sent Kennedy a text.

Your son’s great. Is everything okay? T

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the front door. Jude had finished eating, and I was clearing the table. “Thank you, Mr. Marsh. That’s probably my mom. She loses the key all the time. I’ll be back.” He raced down the hallway toward his room as I went to the door seeing a massive man standing there.


“You’re Thornton? I’m Elijah, Rory’s husband. I’m here to take Jude home with me. You don’t have to stay,” he told me.

“Where’s Kennedy?” I asked quietly.

“He’s at Lark’s house. It’s not… She…” That was all I got before he broke down at the front door.

“Sir, what happened? Where’s Kennedy?” I implored. The sensation in my gut left me feeling ice cold. Something was terribly wrong.

To be continued…

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