Tara glared at him. “No, you asshole. I do not want to be dropped off somewhere. I’m going with you. I’m just saying this could go wrong.”
Cole grabbed Dalton’s shoulder. “Looks like we’re with you on this.”
Dalton nodded, still unwilling to meet their gazes. “Thanks. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Cole started the pickup and flexed his hands around the wheel for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I was so looking forward to homemade apple pie, too.”
A few minutes later they turned down a tree-lined street to stop in front of a typical brick home. Traditional Thanksgiving decorations of corn stalks and pumpkins filled the entry. They all sat quietly and stared at the innocuous house. Dalton’s gut tied in knots, knowing tonight would be one of those events in a person’s life that changed everything. Cole popped his hands against the steering wheel.
“Let’s get it over with. It can’t be worse than mine. Well, unless we’re dead.”
Dalton’s stomach turned sour with dread. “I think they’ll be okay.”
Tara patted Dalton’s arm and he felt a measure of comfort. “Let’s go. I’m completely with you, too. I was just concerned, but we’re there for each other.”
They made their way to the door, hesitation in each step. Tara and Cole waited while Dalton opened the door and led the trio into the vestibule. A woman’s voice drifted from the back of the house. “Just leave your boots and coats in the entryway. Come on back. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Cole and Tara looked concerned, but followed Dalton’s lead. Their winter gear was quickly stored away and Dalton led the way to the dining room. His mother bustled in with steaming dishes and prominently in the center of the table was a plate of
lefse.
The Norwegian potato flatbread was a favorite of Dalton’s. His dad appeared with glasses of tea and handed one to each of them.
“Here you go. I’m sure you’re thirsty after the drive from St. Paul. Have a seat, dinner’s almost ready.”
Dalton looked at the other two, raised his brows and shrugged. Not knowing what else to do, he motioned them to seats around the bulging table. Dalton’s parents sat down and smiled at everyone.
“Dalton, why don’t you introduce us to your friends.”
“Sure. Mom. Dad. This is Cole and Tara. Guys, these are my parents, Rachael and Blake.”
“Nice to meet you both. Here, let’s start before everything gets cold.” She handed the first steaming bowl to Dalton, who stared at his parents. His mother glanced at him when he didn’t take the food.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Didn’t you get my message that we needed to talk when we got here?”
“Well sure, but I thought that would be after we ate. That way we could be more relaxed. It sounded important.”
Dalton’s stomach churned at the thought of trying to eat. “No, Mom. I’d really like to talk about it before we eat. It’s really important to me.”
His mother sat the bowl on the table. “Go ahead, dear. What do you need to tell us?”
Dalton froze—he’d been working on how to explain their relationship all week and never arrived at a brilliant explanation. Cole looked a little sick when Dalton glanced at him and Tara had a look of concern on her face.
Knowing he just had to plunge forward, he took a deep breath, and started. “We’re in a relationship.”
His parents sat silently for a few moments, then his dad asked, “With whom, son?”
Dalton saw a glimmer of hope—they hadn’t assumed the relationship was with Tara. It still didn’t make the explanation much easier. “With both of them. Cole is my boyfriend, and Tara is my girlfriend.”
Tara and Cole sat stone-faced. He did hear the tap of Cole’s foot. His dad sat back with a look that was disturbingly similar to Tara’s while his mother tried to form questions. “So, do I have too many rooms ready?”
Dalton smiled at his ever-practical mother. “Probably, Mom. We only need one.”
“Okay, well that’ll make it easier when your sister arrives with her kids tomorrow.”
Dalton looked first at one parent, then the other, trying to work out what was happening. His mother seemed to find the matter settled, so Dalton turned to his father. “Dad, what are you thinking?”
Blake chuckled and set his napkin on the table. “I think you never were one to take the easy way out, and I don’t think you have this time, either. There are also a lot of—logistical—questions that popped into my head. But they’re really none of our business. So then it comes down to one simple question…are you happy? Do Cole and Tara make your life better?”
Blake looked at his wife of thirty some years and Dalton could see the twinkle that passed between them. Dalton’s father continued, this time including all three of them. “It’s important the people you surround yourself with make your life better.” He stopped and looked at Dalton expectantly.
It took a second for Dalton to realize his dad’s questions were not rhetorical. He wanted a reply. “Yes, I’m happy. Cole and Tara are great and they make me a better person. They make my life better.” He paused and grinned. “Not that everything’s been perfect. But we’re getting better at talking through problems.”
“That’s good. Lots of talking. That’s the only way to keep a relationship healthy.” Blake paused for a minute, then smiled at Dalton. “Anything else?”
“Oh god, I hope not,” Cole said.
Dalton and Tara chuckled, as did Dalton’s parents. “No, I think that’s enough earth shattering news for the next few months,” Dalton said.
“Then let’s eat. Or it will be cold.”
Dalton passed the dishes of food, still in shock that his parents had taken the news with such ease. He wasn’t ready to completely relax, but it was a huge first step. At least one of their sets of families had accepted their relationship.
* * * *
Shocked, that was the only way to describe Cole’s reaction to how well Dalton’s parents took the news. The meal had been pleasant and relaxed, once Cole accepted the fact that Dalton’s parents really did mean what they said. The trio had helped clean up and then played whist for hours before they gave up for the night. Blake was hilarious and kept all of them laughing through the evening. They’d all been ready for sleep at that point, and Cole had been out as soon as his head touched the pillow.
When they’d stumbled down the stairs on Thanksgiving Day, they’d been given breakfasts. Once they’d finished, Tara insisted on helping, but he and Dalton had been banished from the kitchen. Dalton had been eager to show Cole the treehouse he and his father had built during his adolescent years. He’d shared all the details and Cole was a little surprised at how excited Dalton was for him to see it. So, full from breakfast and shooed from the kitchen, this seemed like a great time to see the tree fortress.
Cole slid his arm through the ladder to hold on as he flipped back the trapdoor. He paused for a moment and then stuck his head inside. A little dust and a few leaves was all he could see in the surprisingly large space. He heaved himself upward, his wide shoulders scraping the sides of an access panel that had probably seemed enormous to Dalton when he was younger.
Once he’d worked his shoulders through, he easily lifted himself inside. He looked out through one of the grimy windows, surprised at the view. He could see for miles in every direction. He looked down when he heard a grunt from the opening.
Cole reached down and grabbed Dalton by the coat and pulled him into the enclosure. Dalton pulled the door shut and latched it securely. He grinned. “I told you it was a cool place.”
“I’m sure it was really cool when you were twelve. But yeah, it’s good.”
“It’s also private. No one can get to us now.”
The implications occurred for Cole. “So we could…”
Dalton crawled across the wooden floor to a hatch Cole hadn’t noticed. After struggling with the lock for a few seconds, it popped open to reveal carefully stored sleeping bags and a small box of odds and ends. Dalton pulled out the bedding, unzipped them and laid out a bed on the wooden floor. As the second bag settled on the first, he looked at Cole and smiled. “I thought we might want to blow off a little steam.”
Cole grinned, thinking how rapidly Dalton had changed his outlook. “You know if Tara finds out she’ll have our nuts for a necklace.”
“Eww, that’d be gross. And I asked Tara.”
“And what’d she say?”
Dalton’s face flushed hot. “That if we were horny enough to make out in a freezing cold treehouse in my parents backyard, then have at it.”
Cole chuckled. “Sounds like Tara.”
His gaze took in the bedding and then glanced back at Dalton. “You really want to do this?”
Dalton grabbed Cole’s hand and pressed it against his crotch. Cole could feel Dalton’s dick jerk under his touch. He cupped Dalton’s crotch and squeezed tight. “Okay, it looks like you’ve got your equipment ready.”
Dalton pulled them tight against each other and ground their crotches together. Cole’s cock rubbed against Dalton’s as the two kissed. He grabbed an ass cheek and squeezed hard as his tongue slipped between Dalton’s lips. They kissed for several long minutes, the taste of his boyfriend’s mouth in his own. Dalton slipped his hand down the front of Cole’s jeans, and he lurched back with a snort. “Damn! Your hands are freezing. Talk about a dick wilter.”
Dalton chuckled and then turned to rummage through the box. He soon pulled out two wide, short cans that looked like they’d been around since the 1990’s. Setting them in the open area, he flicked a lighter across their uneven surface. Soon a small blue flame danced over each can, and the tiny room had warmed perceptibly. Cole pulled off his jacket and stuffed it against the wall. Holding his hands over the flames, he warmed them as Dalton removed his outer layer of clothes. He peeled back the top of their makeshift bed and crawled inside.
Cole followed, tucking the thick bedding around them as he took Dalton in his arms. The warmth of their bodies seeped into each of them. Cole pulled out Dalton’s carefully tucked shirt and began rubbing his hand over Dalton’s stomach. The soft moans coming from him served as encouragement. He slid his hands downward until they slipped inside Dalton’s pants. His fingers ran through Dalton’s sexy bush to the base of his hard cock. Cole wrapped his hand tight around its thickness and squeezed. Cole’s tiny movements soon had Dalton edging closer. He grabbed Cole’s hand, his urgency telegraphed through them.
“No. Wait. Oh fuck.”
Cole grinned, slowly pulled his hand out and began playing with the trail of blond hair surrounding Dalton’s navel. Dalton’s chest heaved as he fought to regain control. After a few minutes Dalton sat upright, frantic to open Cole’s jeans. Cole tried to help, but quickly relaxed under the onslaught. A few moments later he heard the sound of his zipper going down and then Dalton fished his cock out of his pants.
Dalton smeared the precum down Cole’s cock and stroked it slowly. He leaned in, his tongue honing in on the source of cock honey, when Cole grabbed his shoulders. Dalton looked at Cole with a questioning expression.
“It’s kinda chilly in here and I don’t think we wanna strip down any more. Jerking each other off sounds fun, though,” Cole said.
A broad smile stretched across Dalton’s face. He gripped the base of Cole’s dick and squeezed it. He slowly slid up its length and twisted his fist when it reached the head. Leaning over, he let a glob of spit fall on the tip of Cole’s cock, then slide down its length. Dalton’s hand met the rivulet of saliva half way and smeared it over Cole’s dick.
“Oh, yeah,” moaned Cole.
Dalton leaned down and pressed their lips together and then whispered in his ear. “Shh, you have to be quiet. Even my parents have limits to what they’ll put up with.”
Cole bit his bottom lip and then nodded. “It just felt so damn good.”
Dalton grinned and stroked him slowly again. When Cole’s response was a barely audible sigh, Dalton’s speed picked up. Cole’s cock was soon glistening with saliva, the head deep red and shiny as his need built. A hand-job always had Cole edging. The rhythm and tempo changed enough that he couldn’t quite get the right combination. The difference resulted in something that was significantly different from his own jerkoff sessions. Tara had always complained about the mess, but he was hoping Dalton would be different.
Dalton’s strokes reached a steady pace and Cole could feel the sweet pressure building. Dalton slipped a hand under Cole’s shirt and rubbed across his nipples.
“Oh. Shit.” Cole bit back a groan as his body tightened. The results of Dalton’s sweet work raced out, shooting across the two of them. The first spray of cum landed on Cole’s shirt in a thick translucent stream. One after another more shots of thick cream joined the growing pool. The final strands dribbled into his bush and slowly dripped through the hair and onto Cole’s skin. As his euphoria subsided, Cole saw that Dalton’s cock was pressed against his pants and left a growing wet spot. His face was flushed red and he chewed on his lip when their gazes met.
“Need to get off?” asked Cole.
“Yeah. God, I’m so hard.”
Cole leaned back on his elbows. “Come on my face.”
Dalton’s grew wide. “Really?”
“I think it’d be fuckin’ hot.”
Without another word, Dalton popped out his cock, crouched in front of Cole and started stroking his hard cock. His breathing almost immediately changed to a ragged gasp as he plunged over the edge. His ass clenched as his muscles rippled from his climax. His first blast hit Cole, leaving a strand of white along his pug nose. The shots that followed created a latticework across Cole’s face. Dalton’s hips thrust forward with each shot, until he emptied a week of built up jizz across Cole’s face. As the last of Dalton’s climax oozed from him, he rubbed his cock over Cole’s lips. Dalton leaned down and pressed their mouths together. Cole could taste the distinct bittersweet flavor of Dalton’s cum as their lips slid against each other. When they pulled apart, Cole looked down and saw the orgasm they’d managed to cover Cole with.
“Damn, you shot like a champion. My face is drippin’ stuff.” Cole filled with contentment, but then realized their situation. “Oh crap. How are we going to get back in the house without someone seeing me all covered in cum?”