Page 80 of Confession
Anger lashes up inside me. “No, he fucking wouldn’t. Look what happened to Roman. Look what happened with my uncle—”
“None of that is your fault.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that you feel guilty. And I understand that I can’t talk you out of feeling guilty. But—”
“Roman hates me. And he should.”
“Roman doesn’t hate you, Vitali. He’s self-conscious around you.”
That makes no sense. “What are you talking about?”
“You make him aware of how he’s changed, and it’s hard for him. You want to fix him—”
“I want to make things right.”
“But youcan’t. Because you didn’t make things wrong in the first place. You’re so hung up on your own role in all of this that you’re not giving enough space for people to just exist as they are and for this family to evolve. You want to run it like your fatherdid when he had a wife and two underage children, but that’s not what this family is anymore.”
Quinn falls silent, giving me time to really hear him. And I do. A bit.
When he sees that, he goes on, “You have to let us care about you like you care about us. I’m sorry, but you just fucking have to.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“That’s okay, Vitali. You don’t have to do it all at once. You don’t have to do it tonight.”
At that, I curl my hand around his calf where it’s resting against me. His expression softens at the gesture.
“I love you,” he says, and there’s weight to it, pressure, like he’s pushing those words into me, like he wants me to feel them. I don’t think I did before, not really. I was more focused on what I feel for him.
“I love you too,” I answer, but I let my words be softer. I let myself be the receiver, the reciprocator. It’s hard, but I feel something balance between us when I do. Maybe Quinn is right.
“Can I stay?”
When he asks that, I know he understands that my head is too full for sex right now. I need time to let all the words settle, to think. Or maybe, to stop thinking. I need silence for a while—but I need it with him.
I get up from the footstool. I hold out my hand. He gets up and takes it. He walks with me to the bed.
We undress and lie down together. Quinn lets me fit my body against his from behind, lets me hold him.
I don’t know how much time passes. An hour. Several. I doze off and on. I let everything sink in.
None of it settles comfortably. I’ll have to rearrange a lot of things inside myself to make that happen. It’s not going to be smooth. It’s going to take time. Quinn and I will argue again.
But he can handle it, and so can I.
I start kissing the back of his neck, grateful that he’s here, in this moment, in my life. He murmurs and shifts, pressing his firm ass against me. I slide my hand from his ribs down to his hardening cock.
As I stroke him, he reaches toward the bedside table to grab the lube. I expect him to hand it to me, but he doesn’t. He pumps some out into his hand then reaches behind himself, between our bodies. I nibble at his neck as he slicks my cock and guides me to his hole.
I push in slowly, stretching him a little at a time with my cock, letting him adjust. I do want to be rough with him again in the future. I want us to play and experiment. There’s so much I want to do. But right now, I need this, his softness. And mine.
So I make love to him.
We find a rhythm and ride it. I pump into him as he pushes back against me. I reach around his hip and stroke him until he’s moaning and whining. I make love to him until he comes.
When his cock kicks in my hand, spilling hotly and quietly, I bury myself inside him. My release is quiet too. It’s easy and comfortable.
