Page 238 of The Liar's Reckoning

Right now, Graham is working with the ACLU of all places, practicing his passion—constitutional law. The pay isn’t much for a lawyer, but my man is all about rights. Civil rights, equal rights, the Bill of Rights. All the rights.

I was asked about a year after Graham came out whether I thought I influenced his supposedly “stark” position changes in the senate. Fischer was doing another piece for a different magazine, whichwasa series of profiles in courage in politics. I said I didn’t think it was me that did it. Not directly.

Growing up as a gay kid in the Catholic church in a very public Catholic family had Graham questioning everything at a young age. He’s about as moderate a person as the citizens of New York voted for. The party wielded a sizable amount of influence in shaping him a certain way once he was running for the senate, and his father’s vested interests played no small part, but as he explained to Fischer for the article, once Graham’s empathy was tapped—through knowing and falling in love with me—he began to see injustices he couldn’t unsee.

If he’d actually wanted to be a career politician, I seriouslydoubt he could have done it without changing party affiliation, but as good as he was at publicity, he doesn’t like dealing with the press. Also, having people comment about him online seriously fucked with his mental health.

He served out his term but retreated from the public eye as much as he could, no longer doing television interviews or speaking with reporters in the halls of the Capitol. His father ensured he had more than enough people around him to keep him in a bubble at all times.

His senate accomplishment he’s most proud of is revoking his support for the human trafficking/anti-sex worker bill and working with Miles and a few other more moderate-minded senators to modify and pass the bipartisan legislation, the final version of which provides more federal funding for homeless children and leaves sex work to the states.

Paul Lawther was all over it—moving quickly to snap up grants and put his name on some Catholic shelters in New York and New Jersey. He plans to expand all across the East Coast.

Apparently, charity can be lucrative when rich people are involved. Whatever.

I try to focus on the good they’re doing and not the salaries they pay themselves to do it. Everybody got a little something and lost a little something, which, in my opinion, is the way government is supposed to work.

It’s nice to not be involved in it anymore, but I still love sparring with Graham about the issues of the day. My addiction to the news hasn’t gone anywhere, and Graham, with his abiding love for the constitution, never takes a side he can’t back up with the original texts. My patriotic puppy.

“Tell me if it needs more beer,” he says, holding a spoon up to my mouth.

I sip it, looking into his eyes. “It’s perfect.” I lick the spoon.

He lets out a soft whimper. “You should get started on that fort.”

We don’t haveenough furniture to make a proper pillow fort, but we do have a two-person tent. I pitch it in the living room over an air mattress after moving the furniture against the walls. I string some battery-operated white lights along the top and bring a bluetooth speaker inside along with blankets, pillows, and lube, of course.

The storm has made landfall, and the electricity is still deciding whether it’s going to stay on when we crawl in with the margaritas and the dog.

“I don’t know why a sheet of nylon makes me feel better,” Graham says, “but it does. And I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you. The naked rule was my idea, too.”

“Yes, I was pretty sure Fish didn’t come up with it.”

I laugh, tackling Graham onto the mattress and giving him a long, greedy kiss meant to make him hard as a steel rod.

He grunts beneath me, adjusting to my aggressive pace and quickly catching up. He gropes at the back of my thighs while I devour his neck, which he offers to me like a sacrifice. I glance at poor Fish who stares balefully back at me from his loll alongside the mattress. He knows from experience no one’s going to pay any attention to him for a while. I love the fuzzy guy, but nothing compares to how I feel about the guy between my legs.

“I thought there was gonna be music,” Graham says, out of breath already.

“Forgot. You want me to stop and pick something out?”

“No,” he says quickly, his hands tightening on my ass. “No.”

“Good, ‘cause I wanna hear all your slutty sounds.”

“Mmph…”

There’s just enough room to roll us over, and I take advantageof it. With him now on top, I wrap my hands around both our cocks and tug them together. “Oh, God,” he groans.

“Give me your ass, puppy.”

His eyes open and his head tilts, not clear on what I’m asking. I make it obvious. “Sit on my face.”

His cheeks flush dark as I help him reposition. He straddles my chest, facing away from me. I plump his cheeks with my hands, enjoying their size, substance and weight. Best. Ass. Ever. Wasting no time, I run my tongue from his balls to his hole, sucking him to me and growling at how fucking good he tastes.

“Silas—Jesus.” He rolls his hips, taking his pleasure as surely as I’m taking mine. I lick his rim and slide inside him, making him cry out. Fish sighs heavily beside us, but safety first. He’s gotta be wherever we are. It’s a hurricane, after all.

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