Page 55 of Unloved

He rolls his eyes. “No, I suggested it for no good reason at all.” He moves a few of the papers around. “I’m just saying, I know you’re starting your job at the gym this week, but, and correct me if I’m wrong, that’s not your forever thing.”

I don’t typically think too far ahead in the future, but I know enough about myself to know Lennox is right. My job at the gym is temporary. It’s more like an agreement between friends; a favor of sorts.

The place has been a lifeline, but I don’t love it the same way someone like Arlo does. But the idea of teaching sign language? That makes me want to think of the future.

“Maybe these places have teaching courses,” Lennox says. “You could always come with me and ask.”

It’s the beginning of a new week, and while Samuel is at school, Lennox and I are coincidentally discussing the pros and cons of me teaching him American Sign Language before his last physical therapy appointment.

He is firmly for and I’m firmly against.

“So you’ll consider teaching others, but you won’t teach me.”

I huff as I bring my hand up to my ear and pretend it’s a phone and then shake my index finger, asking him if he knows where my phone is.

He looks around the table but ends up grabbing his and handing it to me.

I talk into the phone, explaining my side of the argument.“I will always teach you what I know, but you also need to be taught by a professional. And you need to meet other people, find who you are after the incident.”Then I show him the screen.

“I’m not good at making new friends,” he says, practically pouting.

I continue to talk, and he continues to read.“You’ll benefit from meeting other deaf people. Trust me when I say that. I think my recovery this time is different because I met people like Arlo and fit something like The Spot into my daily schedule.”

There is something to be said about being around people who have lived the same experiences as you.

It’s why people like Jenika exist and groups like Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous have such high success rates. There is power and positivity in numbers. But we often forget that as we trudge through our everyday struggles, that our experiences are not solitary or unique. Somewhere else in the world, someone else had that exact same thought, cried for that exact same reason, and wanted to give up on life the same number of times as you.

It’s taken me so long to acknowledge this that, now that I have, I can finally see and appreciate the support system around me. I can finally see myself as a man who might want a career one day. A man who might want two men instead of one. A man who is no longer living in the past and who’s just enjoying the present.

Caught up thinking, I talk into Lennox’s phone and he waits for me to show him the screen.

“Can I use your laptop, please?”

Disgusted that I even asked, Lennox hands it to me and then stands up from his chair and walks around the table until he’s seated beside me.

He watches me as I pull up different pages and read through a wealth of information about teaching ASL. When I turn to face him, anxiety has me shrugging expectantly.

“Nothing,” he says, grinning and holding his hands up in surrender. And then he leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Excitement just looks really good on you.”

My fingers still on the keyboard, overwhelmed by his compliment, by his observation, by the whole entire mood, I bring my hand to my chin, signing “thank you.”

He winks and then bends down to kiss me again, but this time I can’t help but inhale his entire presence. With my mouth still on his, I scoot my chair back and tug Lennox off his. I guide him to straddle me and feel my cock stir when he lazily slips his tongue between my lips.

Kissing has never felt so good. I could sit here with Lennox in my lap, my mouth on his, and be wholeheartedly content for the rest of my days.

After the weekend, there’s no denying there is something between the three of us. It was instant and unexpected. It’s emotional and it’s physical, and most importantly it’s effortless.

None of us question what it is or where it’s going. We don’t need rules and don’t require labels. There is no jealousy, no comparison, and no envy.

It’s the healthiest relationship in my life to date, which makes me more determined to keep my father as far away from it as possible. As the days close in on our meeting, my anxiety plays peek-a-boo; intrusive thoughts finding me at the most inopportune times.

Lennox’s thickening erection interrupts my wayward thoughts, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the distraction. Slipping my hands underneath his t-shirt, I push the material up his chest and regretfully stop kissing him as I drag it up and over his head. My eyes slide over his lean chest while my hands and fingers dance over him, touching his skin, counting his ribs, and my lips dutifully follow.

My gaze finds his as I let my tongue glide over his nipple, licking and biting it before my lips settle on his collarbone. It’s no longer bruised or broken, and even though his mobility is a little slow, I’m grateful the healing has happened. My mouth continues the journey, up the side of his neck, along his jaw, and ending at his parted lips, wet and waiting for me.

Gripping the back of my neck, Lennox keeps me in place as he fights me for dominance one lick and taste at a time. My cock is hard and desperate as he rocks against me roughly.

He loves being in control. I noticed it when he was with Samuel, and I can feel the fight in his every touch to take it right now.

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