Ty’s cool, slippery finger grazed his anus, and Landon gasped and jerked in surprise as much as pleasure. While Ty worked the lube, his chest warmed Landon’s back, and his breath whispered against Landon’s neck, interspersed with kisses and murmured words that had Landon pushing back against Ty’s hand. When Ty wrapped his fingers around Landon’s cock, Landon released his death grip on the couch, searching for Ty’s sleek, steely length, craving something besides the prickly fabric in his hands. But Ty stepped back so quickly it was a wasted effort. Worse than wasted. Ty’s heat, his hands—gone. Only his scent lingered.
In an attempt to correct his mistake, Landon immediately repositioned his hands on the back of the sofa. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he waited. And waited. And waited. He felt more than heard the swoosh of movement behind him, then to the side. He glanced over his shoulder. Ty strolled to the front of the couch, the muscles in his legs shifting, bunching and elongating, until he stopped and faced Landon. Full frontal. Naked. No socks for him. Just sun-bronzed arms and chest and pale hips. His tanned feet spread, grounded. His cock as hard as Landon’s. Ty cupped it and lifted, and Landon’s dick jerked as if Ty had touched him instead. Ty’s thumb circled the tip. Landon’s heart pounded as he imagined that velvety flesh in his fingers, his mouth.
Then Ty wrapped his fingers around the glistening length and began a leisurely pump that had Landon thrusting his hips against nothing. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop. He almost grabbed his own cock, desperate to imitate Ty, to find relief. The only thing that kept his hands in place was the promise of Ty’s cock inside him. But the longer Ty stroked, the more desperate Landon became. His fingers dug into the upholstery until the frame beneath the stuffing bit into his hands.
Ty’s breath hitched, and his even thrusts became quick and jerky. Landon narrowed his gaze. Damn it. That meant Ty was close. If he—
Ty was behind him before he finished the thought. The tip of his cock pressed against Landon’s entrance. Then he slowly pushed inside him, stretching, filling. “I fucking love your self-control.”
A dry, relieved chuckle escaped Landon. “What self-control? I was ready to strangle you.”
“But you didn’t. Makes it fun to tease you.”
“Didn’t know you had this mean streak,” Landon said, barely forcing the words from his passion-tight throat.
“Sure you did.”
Landon didn’t argue. He couldn’t because Ty had seated himself until his balls pressed against the sensitive skin between Landon’s anus and sac. He slipped in and out, angling his hips so he brushed Landon’s sweet spot with each stroke. Faster. Harder. The friction a mixture of pain and titillation.
Ty came first, and when Landon felt the pulses he let loose a primal, guttural cry and shot his seed over the couch and carpet. Ty collapsed against his back, their sweat-slickened skin creating a vacuum, sucking them together. Ty gently pushed Landon over the back of the couch and rolled over on top of him before settling beside him, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, legs and arms a tangle.
When the sweat had cooled his body, and his heartbeat and breathing had slowed to normal, the prickly nub of the sofa’s upholstery began to bug. It was as bad as the carpet. Why had he never noticed it before?
Duh
,
you’ve never been naked on it.
He tried to ignore the texture. Tried to relax and enjoy Ty pressed close against him. Impossible.
He jumped off the sofa and brushed his hands over his body, trying to rid it of the creepy-crawlies.
“What’s wrong?” Ty asked, his expression bemused.
“Your couch. It’s like the carpet.”
He sat up and his brows drew together. “Dude, I’m sorry. We’ll replace it. Leather. Okay?” He stood and peered over his shoulder at the wet spot Landon had made then chuckled. “It’ll be easier to clean, too. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”
Shopping or prickly fabric. Which was worse? Prickly fabric by a nose. But this time, his sisters might come in handy. “I bet Nikki and Meredith would pick something out for you. They’d have a blast.”
“Yeah.” He looked around the room. “You think I could get them to do the whole place?”
Ty’s furniture reminded Landon of his own before his sisters had gotten their hands on it. It was old, worn, comfortable. “That’s kind of a waste. Your furniture is fine. And as long as I’m not buck-nekkid on the couch, it’s fine, too.”
“Yeah, but I want you nekkid everywhere. I want to fuck you everywhere. I can’t do anything about the carpet, but the furniture’s a different story.”
Landon wanted the same thing. Still... “Think about it. Okay? Don’t rush right out and buy something.”
Ty cradled the back of Landon’s neck in his palm and kissed him until Landon’s dick defied gravity and stood at attention. Then Ty lifted his head, his eyes soft, loving, but with a hint of a question there. “Why not? You’re planning on hanging around, right?”
“Yeah,” he rushed to assure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ty smile and the uncertainty in his eyes disappeared. “Then it’s all good.”
Chapter Seventeen
They fell into a familiar rhythm. A schedule. Alternating weekends between Houston and Austin. Landon made a point of having Yvonne and her family over for dinner so they could get to know Ty. The anger and derision she’d directed at him on their first meeting had disappeared. Her welcome was as warm as Landon’s sisters, and she was just as excited that he and Landon had finally gotten together. There were a few raised eyebrows from some of their friends, but no one cut them off. They just seemed surprised. Jake had come around, too. Even their occasional touches and hand-holding didn’t seem to bother him.
But Ty still had his own family to tell.
Family. He’d begun revising his notion of what that word meant. Who made up a family and what was their place in his life? He’d been grasping at childhood ideals and trying to work them into a world that would no longer accommodate them. Close-knit, biologically related, loving each other no matter what. Obviously, he’d been wrong about the biological part. Sharing DNA didn’t guarantee that closeness.
He rarely visited his family because of the emotional distance he suffered, knowing they wouldn’t accept who he was. And that had started long before he and Landon had admitted their feelings for each other. His parents probably wouldn’t accept the relationship. But he was ready to tell them—get it over with and out in the open. Landon wasn’t going anywhere. Ty was certain of that. He wouldn’t deny him in order to hold on to a fictional family.
A small part of him hoped they’d still love him, still embrace him and welcome Landon. But if they didn’t, well, it might sound clichéd, but Landon was his family now.
So he planned a detour through Stonemont before the Lone Star Journalism Convention in Dallas. Bumping along the dirt road home, whirling plumes of dust visible through the rear window, it seemed like he and Landon had just left. But it had been three months.
When he parked in front of the house, his mom stepped out the front door in blue jeans, a green sleeveless blouse and white tennis shoes. One hand was propped on her hip, clutching a yellow-and-white striped kitchen towel. Her other hand shaded her eyes. The sun picked out the silver streaks in her blond hair. She was smiling and almost bouncing on her toes.
His stomach churned. He was about to wipe that happy expression from her face.
When she hugged him, he held her longer than normal, certain it would be their last embrace. Her comforting scent, her warmth enveloped him. He thought back to all the times his mom’s hug had made everything all right, or at least bearable. But not this time. Tears clogged his throat, burning.
Reluctantly, he loosened his arms and stepped back.
The lines between her brows deepened, and she gently cupped his cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
He didn’t pretend, but swallowed the painful tears and asked, “Is Dad home yet?”
She tilted her head and regarded him curiously. “Yes.”
“I need to talk to both of you.”
She nodded. “Of course, honey. Bring your bag in. I’ll get you a big old glass of iced tea. Or would you rather have milk? I made chocolate-chip cookies.”
“I’ll get my bag later.” If they didn’t kick him out. “But iced tea and cookies sound great.” It would give him something to do with his hands.
Too soon they sat around the dining room table, Ty and his mom with sweating glasses of iced tea and his dad cradling a cup of coffee. A platter of cookies rested in the middle of the age-darkened wood. His mom and dad didn’t stare at him, but cast inquisitive glances at each other and him while they waited for him to start.
Spit it out.
“Mom, you remember I told you there was someone special?”
His mom’s blue eyes lit up, and she looked a little relieved. “Of course, I remember. Will we get to meet her soon?”
Ty frowned. “That depends.”
She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you. I’d just about given up hope. I was afraid you’d spend your life alone, that you’d never find someone to share it with you.”
Spit it out.
“It’s Landon.”
She glanced at her husband, her expression scared and confused, before pulling her hand to her lap and speaking hesitantly. “Of course, he’s special. You’re friends. I enjoyed meeting him at Easter. But next time you come out, you need to bring the girl with you, the one you’re seeing. We really want to meet her.”
Before he could chicken out, Ty blurted, “We’re more than friends. There’s no girl. It’s Landon. I’m in love with Landon.”
Ty held his breath, scrutinizing them for the smallest sign of acceptance. But he wasn’t seeing it. His father’s mouth was a thin, straight line, his face an angry, mottled red as he carefully, deliberately placed his coffee cup on the table.
“That can’t be.” Color drained from his mom’s face. “You’re not like that. You like girls. You’ve always dated girls. You’re not one of
them.
”
That raised his hackles. “It would appear that I am.”
“What did he do to you? How did he lure you in?” she asked, more bewildered than angry.
Her assumption that it was Landon’s fault pissed him off. “It wasn’t him. It was me.” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Calm down.
“It was both of us. We fought it for a long time, but—” He worked with words all day, every day, but at this moment he couldn’t find the words to explain to his parents how difficult the fight had been and his relief when it had finally ended.
“God will punish you for this.” Her voice became frantic. “I can’t bear the thought of that. You’ll burn in hell.”
“Mom, I’ve thought about this for a long time. If God sends me to the devil for loving Landon, I’ll be in good company.” His dad started to stand, but his mom clutched at his arm, staying him. Between Ty’s flippant comment about going to the devil and his admission that he was in love with a man, his dad looked like he was on the verge of stroking out. The blood vessel at his temple was pulsing so strongly that Ty itched to put pressure on it in case it burst. Ty had never seen him so angry.
He continued to watch it cautiously as his mom spoke. “No. You can’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying. We can make an appointment with Reverend Whitehall. He’ll know how to help you. He’ll know what to do.” She started to push up from the table. “I’ll call him now. He can—”
A red haze glazed Ty’s vision, and anger roared in his ears. His jaw was so tightly clenched that he bit off his next words. “I don’t want the reverend’s help. I don’t need it.”
“Please, sweetie. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.
Please.
”
His father spoke for the first time, his voice shaking with rage. “Kurt was right. Damned good thing he didn’t let Jessie go to Houston.”
Ty jumped up and leaned across the table until he was inches from his dad’s face. His heart pounded with fury. It stole his breath, so his words lost their power when he wheezed, “Landon’s not interested in Jessie. She’s a little girl.”
“That’s right. He’s just interested in little boys. Guess that makes it okay,” he sneered.
He was going to kill his dad. If he stayed another minute, the man would be dead, not from a stroke but by Ty’s own hands. “If you weren’t my dad, I’d beat the shit out of you for that.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, tempted to use his fists anyway, to pound the scornful disdain from his father’s face. If it hadn’t been for his mother... “I’m out of here.”
“Don’t come back until you’re ready to accept help,” his dad shouted.
“When hell freezes over.” He took several deep breaths, trying to calm the angry beat of his heart. He couldn’t leave his mother like this. “I’m sorry. I know this has been a shock. I didn’t know how to break it to you gently. I thought if you met him first, saw what a decent man he is.” His voice hitched, and he dropped his gaze to the platter of cookies, focusing on it in an attempt to regain control of his emotions. There was a chip in the paint that upon closer inspection revealed a crack he hadn’t noticed before. He forced his gaze back to his mom’s frantic expression. She suddenly seemed old and fragile. God, he’d known it would be hard, but this...this was killing him. He hated hurting her. “After you’ve had time to think about it, if you change your mind, if you can accept us, don’t be afraid to call me. You taught me that family’s important. I still believe that.”
His mother’s sobs followed him to his truck, then echoed in his ears as he drove down the dirt road. But it wasn’t long before his dad’s words drowned them out.
Don’t come back.
* * *
As smoothly as the reveal had gone, his parents the exception, Ty still had reservations about tonight. The annual Excellence in Lone Star Journalism Awards ceremony. He’d gone back and forth about whether to ask Landon to join him at the ceremony. Ty was up for an award. He’d finally asked himself what he’d do if Landon were a woman. The answer had come easily enough. So he’d asked Landon. And despite his fear of most things social, Landon hadn’t hesitated to accept the invitation. He’d even bought a tux for the event, saying he figured he’d be going to a lot of these award ceremonies for Ty, which had left Ty a little choked up.