Page 52 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
Do any do any of the tasks mentioned in the song to prove his devotion. I felt his affection with every look, touch, or word. And I desperately wanted to return those feelings. “You are so lovely to look at,” I whispered as he threw a leg over me, his fingers slick with lube as he worked himself open, his teeth working at his lower lip as he stroked his sweet spot a time or two. “I wish I had the skills of songwriting that you do, for then I could fill your ears with rhymes about your vitality, your kindness, your sweet prick.”
“You’re doing just fine,” he assured me as he took my cock in hand at the root, his chest slick with sweat, and lowered himself down onto my dick in one motion. My hips jerked upward of their own accord, driving deeper into the tight, hot heat of his ass. “Just…fine…”
He rolled his hips in a sinful way. “Gorgeous,” I panted as he clenched around me, his gaze on me all the while. I plucked at a nipple. His head fell back as a low groan floated out of his open mouth. I slid my hands down to his hips, planted my heels, and thrust up. The sounds that fell out of him as I met his downward motion with a hard push up ricocheted off the walls as he bounced up and down with wild abandon.
His cock slapped his belly and then mine. I grabbed it, gave it a tight squeeze, and was rewarded with his orgasm. Spunk flew out of his fat cock, speckling my chest and chin. His fingers bit into my forearms as he blew apart. I found my release a moment later. The tightening of his channel around me undid me as it always did. I snarled low and long, pumping all the seed I could into him. He rose up, knowing what I wanted. My seed ran out of him. He then sat back down, mewling at the slippery push of my dick back into him. The hot wash of my cum coated my cock then began to ooze out of him, thick and hot, it ran down over my balls. Yes. Yes.
“Your ass…is…perfection,” I gasped as he milked me out, his hands sliding down my arms to rest on my pecs as he pulled every last drop of cum from me. Then he lay down, my prick easing out of his hole, to kiss me with such sweet passion that I could do nothing other than return his kiss with equal devotion. “I do love you, Lennon,” I whispered across his puffy lips. “I should say it more…I would, were I not terrified of…giving myself to you. But I…this is…you are…”
“Shh, I know. I love you as well.” He captured my mouth with a soul-searing exploration that left me mentally and physically wiped out. We cuddled like two bugs in a very sticky rug, my thoughts light and fluffy, until he pushed back to stare down at me. Elbows locked, hands beside my sweaty head, dark blue eyes glowing with love. “You don’t have to be Robert Frost to win my heart. You already have.”
He eased off me, gave me a tender look, and padded into the main bath. I lay there like a wet mop that had lost its handle, grinning at the ceiling like a man who had just won the lottery.
“I think we may have dirtied the duvet,” he said when he climbed up onto the bed with a warm, damp cloth in his hand.
“Mm, I know we did. I feel the wet spot under my ass.” He wiped at his spend drying on my chest as the smell of my hand soap rose from his damp skin. “I’ll have it sent to the dry cleaners in the morning.”
“You’re very chill tonight,” he teased, tossing the wet cloth over his shoulder, then watching me with intent. I twitched but remained in bed. “Wow, this really is a whole new Wes.”
“I’m not sure about that. As soon as I can make my legs work, I’ll probably have to pick all of those items up off the floor, but for now…yes, new Wes is large and in charge.”
“I love new Wes, and old Wes, and all the Wes’s I have yet to meet.” He kissed me quickly, and then slid from the bed as was the norm. I’d never asked him to stay, and he had never asked.It was a massive step for me to invite a man to sleep with me. Previous gentleman callers always went to a guest room where they would tend to their after sex intimacy and sleep in their own bed. Lennon bent to pick up his briefs. I sat up, feeling oddly needy. Perhaps it was due to confessing my feelings or perhaps I was simply being a silly man, but I reached out to touch his perfect little butt. His gaze moved to me.
“I would not mind you staying here for the night.”
He straightened, clearly shocked, his underwear in his hand. “Here as in here in the house or here as in here in your bed?”
“Yes.” I’d never made him return home after sex. He just had. I assumed he had picked up a vibe from me. “Both. I mean, yes, I would like you to be in the house, obviously, but here in my bed. Guest rooms are for friends. You are more than a mere friend or casual paramour. You’re the man who I wish to whisper sweet nothings to…as soon as I learn a few sweet nothings that is.”
He dove onto the bed, landing atop me. I grunted, then threw my arms around him, kissing his cheek and nose as he hugged me so tightly, I feared I might pass out.
“This new Wes is a real Romeo,” he said as we wiggled under the covers after we quickly pulled on some briefs. One never knew when Valeria would wake up, so it behooved us to cover our backsides.
“This is quite lovely.” I sighed a few moments later as his head lay pillowed on my left biceps. “I’m so glad I found a way to escape the tower.”
“Just call you Rapunzel, they who saved themselves with no help from some damn old prince.” He gave my chest a sleepy kiss, then dozed off.
I was sure I held a prince in my arms as a future duchess of the realm slept just down the hall. What did that make me? An icy dragon who had a warming of his cold, scaly heart, perhaps?
A modern fairy tale family if ever there were one.
Epilogue
Two Years Later
The shade was dappled, moving about as the leaves blew in the wind. I had grown to enjoy staring at the sky through the dancing boughs on a Saturday morning. Our blanket was bigger now as we had three people to stretch out on it, but that three was only two at the moment.
Lennon was putting on a free show, as he always did, for the children who looked forward to his performances on the Common. Even now, as the owner of his own party company thanks to a huge grant and several loans for queer entrepreneurs, he still insisted on giving back to the city in whatever way he could. Dancing Dragon Parties was the hottest children’s party group in the greater Boston area now, thanks to lots of help from Lyle, Marty’s son, and his now fiancée, Kitty.They had known a talented performer when they had listened to a demo CD two years ago.
Now Lennon was sought after and had two singers on his payroll. I was so incredibly proud of him. It was a lot of work, and we did miss him as our nanny, but he had his adventures in life to live, just as Valeria did. Today’s performance was to be followed tomorrow by a party at our house to celebrate our official adoption of Valeria.
I smiled at my niece as she danced about with Penny and Chandler. Rissa sat next to me, chatting away with Mona. I missed seeing Rissa at work, but since I had retired sixteen months ago to give my full support to Lennon as his legal counsel while taking over full-time care of Valeria in his absence, I’d tried to keep in touch with my law firm friends. Rissa had moved on to work with a new attorney, a bright rising star, vicious and cunning, according to her reports over coffee every Saturday at the Frog Pond. Seemed the new lawyer cared little for children or what became of them once his fees had been paid. I’d been much the same before Valeria had tumbled into my life, which was part of the reason I retired early. I didn’t have it in me to tear children from good parents and toss them to uncaring parents just to win a case.
I had turned into a terrible softie. A one-time ferocious dragon who now spent Saturday’s dancing with his beloved prince of song while the duchess of delightful days joined in the spin-and-whirl.
“You look contented,” Rissa said, and I nodded.
“I am,” I admitted with little to no fear creeping in to sour things. Yes, there were still dark days for me and Valeria. Some things you never could slough off no matter how much therapy one had, but she was now sleeping in bed all night. Her last nightmare had been two months ago. Dr. Bajaj was a godsend, even if he had dreadful sock habits. And my counselor had seenme through a year and a half of torturous self-reflection and hard work. Would I ever be carefree like Lennon? No, obviously not. I would always carry the scars of being abandoned, just as Valeria would. She, though, was so much further ahead in her mental health journey than I was. I now wished I had not shunned seeking help. But what was done was done. I could only move forward from where I stood now. Or sat now as it was.
