More, page 22
“You will?”
Air filled my lungs when Matthew smiled. But his expression changed as he turned to me.
“We will,” I said.
“She might deal better if she got to know you, if she saw us together.”
“That's what I'm thinking,” Richard said.
I nodded.
Matthew dragged me onto the couch until we lay in a pile with him laughing between us.
I adjusted my tie for the third time and inspected it in the bathroom mirror. It still didn't look right. Fuck it. Whatever the hell I wore would be the least of her concerns.
I stared at myself in the mirror.
Hello, Mrs. Stewart.
Hi, ma'am. My name is Luke.
It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.
I'm one of the two men who likes to stick his dick up your son's ass.
What the hell was she going to think of us?
She had to accept us. I wasn't going to be the reason he lost his family.
“Nervous?” Richard asked from the doorway, his voice low.
“Nah.”
“Sure you're not.”
My head snapped in his direction. “Aren't you?”
He leaned on the doorjamb and folded his arms. “I have no intention of letting her continue to hurt him.”
“It's that simple?”
He stepped into the bathroom and turned me toward him. He worked apart the tie's knot and retied it. “We'll make her see.”
“Is everything always so easy for you?”
“This isn't easy. She isn't the first or the last person who's going to give us shit over this. Our bed is too crowded for most people. But she loves Matthew. And he needs her. We'll keep trying until she gets it. I won't give up on this one. Not his mom.”
“He's been different, not like him at all. Fidgety and edgy, snippy even.”
“He's entitled. But it's not going to continue. Not if we can help it.”
I checked my tie in the mirror. Better. “You know, if it was just you and him, she'd have no issues. She'd be thrilled.”
“So what?” He wrapped his arms around my waist, and his chin came to rest on my shoulder. “She'll have to get used to it. It isn't ever going to be just me and him.”
Ever? Could three men really last?
I reached around and grabbed his ass, bringing him in close.
I sure as hell hoped so.
Matthew's mom greeted us with a warm smile at the door of her apartment. She gestured for us to come in and laughed as she moved out of the way for Richard's large frame.
Same laugh. Same smile. Same wavy, dark hair. If I'd seen her on the street, I would have known her as Matthew's mother. All smiles and light and laughter.
Not the greeting of a woman who had issues with us.
“Come here and give your mother a hug.” Her voice lilted as she spoke to her son. She wound her arms around Matthew.
“Mom, I'd like you to meet Richard Marshall and Luke Moore.”
The small woman dipped her head in an all too familiar gesture. She reached out and shook our hands.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart,” Richard said.
“Please, call me Lydia.” She turned to Matthew. “They are very nice looking, Matty.”
I mouthed the nickname, and Matthew rolled his eyes.
Lydia shook her head and giggled. “Come on into the kitchen. Dinner's almost ready. I made iced tea.”
The apartment was small and full of knickknacks, mismatched furniture, and half-finished sewing projects, but there was no dust or disorder about the place. The smell of fresh baked sugar cookies and cinnamon candles gave the impression of Christmas morning. Walking through her home made me feel like I'd been wrapped in a warm blanket on a snowy day.
We stepped into the kitchen, a small room with compact appliances, a rollaway dishwasher, and a distressed wood table that filled the open area off to one side. A battered wooden rocker with worn edges and scratches sat against the wall. I took a closer look. Several spindles were broken. If she sat in it, she'd get hurt.
A quilt hung over the back. Probably handmade. My mother had stitched a similar piece throughout my third grade year at St. Mary's Elementary. The memory was one of the few I let myself keep. She sewed the quilt in our living room while I did my homework on the coffee table. She'd give me cookies and a glass of milk while we worked. When I drank the last of the milk, she'd pour another before I could ask for more and slip me three extra cookies.
“I need to get it repaired.” Lydia reached down and brushed her fingertips over the arm of the rocker. “I can't use it like it is now.”
“Did you make the quilt?” I asked.
Her smile grew. “I did. For Matty when he was a newborn. He wouldn't go to sleep unless I wrapped him in that quilt and rocked him. We did that every night until he was seven years old.”
“Mom,” Matthew screeched. He set four plastic glasses on the table with a loud clank. Tea spilled over the tops.
“Shush, Matty. Don't interrupt your mother.”
“Yeah, kid,” I said. “Don't interrupt your mother.”
Matthew stuck his tongue out at me, and that had me laughing. He grabbed a dish towel and set to wiping the mess.
“He was such a good boy. Always told me everything. What he did at school. What his friends were doing. Which kids he liked. It's how I knew he was gay. I couldn't deny it when he never once mentioned a girl.” She paused and looked right at me. “Some men don't talk much to their mothers. Not my Matty. When he keeps something from me, it's because it isn't good for him.”
Matthew reached for her hand. “Mom, this is good— ”
She jerked away and peered into the oven. “Dinner's ready. Have a seat.”
Richard patted Matthew on the shoulder and whispered, “We're not giving up.”
Lydia puttered around the kitchen and had a huge feast on the table in minutes. A roast, boiled potatoes, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and homemade applesauce.
“Tell me about yourselves,” she said as she dished out the food.
Richard spoke first. He told her about his business, his house, and his family. She asked us our ages and didn't seem bothered by the difference with Matthew's. Richard talked more easily than I, but I did my best to add more than my usual one comment every hour.
Halfway through the meal, the talk dried up, and we finished our food in silence. No one seemed concerned by the quiet but me. I didn't have the social skills to determine if it meant she didn't like us. I threw Richard a concerned glance.
He smiled at me then spoke. “Now I know where Matthew learned how to cook. This is excellent.”
“I can see you have a sense of humor. My son has to be the worst cook. I remember one Mother's Day when he made macaroni and cheese from a box. It came out a dark brown color. I had to smile and swallow and try not to gag.”
The tension in my chest eased as everyone around the table laughed. I liked hearing about Matthew from someone who'd known him all his life. Someone who knew all his secrets. Someone who loved him.
“Well, he's come a long way,” I said. “He makes the best dishes.”
“Really?” She set her fork down. “Matty?”
“I... uh... ” Matthew placed his napkin on the table. He slid it under the edge of his plate and back out, repeating the action several times until he lowered his hands in his lap. “I took a cooking class.”
“When?” she asked.
He dipped his head again and ran a hand through his dark waves. “Um... I started it the Monday after Richard asked us to move in. I wanted to be able to do something... for them.”
Richard's mouth dropped open.
I couldn't help myself; I beamed at Matthew. “You're a quick study. I've never had such good food.”
Matthew smiled back. It was a nervous and embarrassed smile, but it relaxed me nonetheless.
Richard kissed Matthew's cheek. “You're something else, kid.”
Lydia stood and shifted on her feet. She carried empty plates to the kitchen counter. “Why don't you boys head out to the living room? I'll bring in coffee and cookies.”
Matthew jumped up. “Mom, let me do the dishes.”
She shooed him away. “Nonsense. It doesn't take much work. That's why you bought me the dishwasher last Mother's Day, right? This is my day to treat you and your friends.” She patted his ass and pushed him toward the doorway.
Richard made a move to help her, but Matthew gave him a look warning him not to try.
The living room was a treat. Framed pictures of a young Matthew covered every table and shelf in the small room. Matthew in a baseball uniform, a soccer uniform, holding a puppy, dressed in a Star Wars Chewbacca costume, wearing a graduation cap and gown for what had to be a kindergarten ceremony.
Richard and I sat on the couch, pointing out various photos to each other.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” Matthew settled in an armchair across from us.
“She seems okay with things so far,” Richard said. “Maybe she'll have you over next week and everything'll be back to normal.”
Matthew's smile faded. He shook his head. “She's still upset. She doesn't like to be rude.”
I wanted to ask him what else we could do, but she stepped into the room carrying a tray piled high with cookies, brownies, and coffee cups.
Matthew relieved her of the tray and set it on the coffee table. He passed out the cups and desserts and returned to his seat, munching a cookie. “Thanks, Mom. These are good.”
She didn't respond. She stood at the threshold between rooms.
“Mom, come sit and talk with us.”
Lydia tucked her hair behind her ear and slid into a chair by her son. She spoke in a quiet voice. “I just don't understand.”
“This is what I want, Mom. They're good to me.”
She glanced at Richard and me. “My Matty doesn't always make the best decisions.” She spoke more to herself than us. “He was with a boy in college who got him into all sorts of trouble.”
“Mom!” Matthew shrieked.
She jerked her head in his direction. “That boy used you. You don't always know who to trust.”
Richard perched on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded together. “I assure you he can trust us. We are not using him.”
“Mom, they're good for me. It's not like Jake.”
She shook her head, her curly hair swaying in waves. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be loved. But, Matty, why does it have to be both? Why can't you make a choice?”
“I couldn't choose, even if I wanted to. It isn't about one of them. It's about all of us. I'm happy right now, and it's because of that. Because of them.” He looked our way before continuing. “When Richard looks at me, I know there isn't anything he wouldn't do for me. I can feel how much he wants me to be with him, live in his home, spend time with him. He needs me. And Luke. He's a strong person. The strongest person I think I've ever met. He's quiet. He holds a lot in. But when he does say something, it means so much more. He's passionate. He always, always tries to make me feel good. About me.”
My jaw dropped.
Richard reached for my hand and held it on his lap. He smiled like Matthew had given him keys to a new luxury convertible.
Lydia stared at Matthew for a brief moment, her mouth open, her dark eyes wide. She glanced at a high school graduation picture of him on the table beside her. She picked it up, wiped the spotless glass with a napkin, and set it down again. “How does it work? How do three men live together, communicate with each other?”
Richard didn't give Matthew a chance to answer. “We handle it pretty good, I'd say. At least two of us do.” I got a pointed look. “And we're working on Luke. We're not giving up on him.”
Matthew nodded. “That's what we're doing, Mom. We're trying to make this work. All of us.”
“I care for your son, ma'am.” Richard squeezed my hand. “A great deal. I won't hurt him.”
She looked my way. “And you?”
I hesitated, but when I settled on the words, I said them to Matthew more than her. “I care about him, and Richard, more than I've let myself care for anybody in a long time. I'll try my best not to let anyone hurt him. Not even myself.”
She bit at her bottom lip and tucked her hair back again. “I guess a mother can't ask for more than that. I want you to be happy.”
“I am, Mom. This time I really am.”
She watched her son for a moment more. Maybe she deemed our words sincere because she stood and dropped a kiss on his head. The light was back in her eyes.
We visited for a while longer and learned a few more tales about Matthew's childhood, including the time he rescued five small puppies from a storm drain. His mom laughed as she relayed the details of how she had to convince a soaking wet, filthy, bright-eyed ten-year-old Matthew they couldn't keep five German shepherds in their two-bedroom apartment.
An hour later, she sent us on our way with hugs and a plate full of cookies. She was a strong force for such a small, quiet woman, and I liked her. Even though she'd upset him, her concern had been out of love for him, and anyone who cared for him ranked high in my book.
“Take care of each other,” she said with a wave.
“We will, Mom.”
“And, Matty, I expect you here for dinner next week. All of you are welcome anytime.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Matthew bounced his way to Richard's car.
We headed to the bedroom as soon as we got home. Matthew was eager and excited like he hadn't been since the last time he'd gone to his mom's. Naked in a flash, he watched us, silently pleading for us to kiss him, to touch him.
“What do you want, kid?” Richard asked.
“Me?”
“This is your night to celebrate.”
Matthew smirked and crawled up the bed. “I want to be inside you, Richard. And have you inside me, Luke.”
“Perfect.” I followed after him. I loved to hear him vocalize his desires.
“But first, I want Richard to suck me and you to rim me, get me ready.” He smiled wide. His dark eyes glowed.
Richard got on the bed. “I do like your ideas, kid.”
We situated ourselves until we had plenty of room to work him over.
Richard spoke one last time before he took Matthew's prick into his mouth. “We're gonna make this one to remember, Matthew.”
I licked his balls and made my way back. He lifted his legs higher. His body twitched and begged for me. I breathed deep. His musky scent flooded my nostrils. I loved giving him pleasure. He was the most responsive man I'd ever been with. Every touch, every stroke, every lick stood out, made him crazy. And with Richard adoring his cock, we sent Matthew moaning and writhing even faster.
I didn't want to stop, but Matthew was desperate for more. I got on my knees. “On your back, Richard.” I slicked my hands and put one on Matthew's cock, the other on Richard's ass. In, out, up, down. Over and over until Matthew thrust into my hand and Richard drove onto my fingers, both wanting more.
I withdrew my hands and slicked my own cock. “C'mere, Matthew.”
I helped him onto his knees. Richard spread wide, lifting his legs, and Matthew pushed in. I let him thrust a few times. Then I stilled them and plunged into Matthew's heat, giving him a night he'd remember.
He kept talking, pleading, praising as he rocked between us.
Then he stopped. His body tensed.
Something was wrong.
He caressed Richard's cheek. “Love you.” He dropped his hand to the big man's chest. “Richard. I love you.” He threw his head onto my shoulder, reached around, and touched my face. “I love you, Luke. Love you both.”
I'd never be just another fuck to him. I'd never be just another guy he dated. Tightness welled in my chest. It overwhelmed me. I wanted to come so I could rid my body of the pressure in my balls, if nothing else.
Richard raised a hand to Matthew's face. Then Matthew's hips rocked, and Richard groaned.
I sucked in a breath and thrust, not sure what else I could give him.
Richard came, and I followed, still shooting into Matthew when his body tightened and screams of pleasure poured out of him. It sounded like nothing I'd ever heard from him before. We collapsed together as one, floating, breathing heavy, stuck together, not because of sweat or cum, but because we couldn't let go. I couldn't let go.
Richard shifted out from under us. He wrapped his arms around Matthew. His voice filled with awe. “Matthew?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.” He pulled back, and they stared at each other. “Almost from the first night I met you.”
Matthew gave him a soft, slow kiss.
Then Richard leaned over him and whispered in my ear. “And, don't freak, but I love you too.”
The words tumbled around in my head. I could barely speak. “I... I can't... not— ”
Richard released his hold on Matthew. He rubbed his hand along my arm. “I know. It's okay.”
Matthew kissed me. “I love you and I'll wait.”
“We both will,” Richard said.
They knew me well, and they accepted me— without judgment or a desire to change me. Would it hurt to tell them? Would it kill me?
“I can't.”
Richard slid closer. He pressed his face against my neck and whispered over my skin, “It's okay.”
Matthew ran his palm along my chin. “Don't be afraid.” He kissed me again, light kisses on my lips, my cheeks, my chin. “Not about this. This should be the easy part.”
Young, innocent, and naive. He couldn't understand. Love was never easy.
Yet, it did feel that way with them. Maybe I could— but I'd always trusted my instincts. I was protecting myself for a reason. Even if I didn't want to think about the why of it.
They kissed me again and again until sleep lured us into dreams where love was enough and lovers never left.
If only I didn't have to wake from the dream.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Matthew snored and repositioned his head on my thigh. I shifted my ass on the couch until my dick lay an inch from his mouth.
