I believe this might be a first for one of these collections. I have a memory like a sieve, so don’t hold me to this, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never included a scene that was slated to exist...but I never got around to writing it. This also contains one that was originally written to be included in the book and, like so many, didn’t need to be in there.

I’ll start with that one first. Mind you, it was difficult to decide whether to keep it or cut it. The scene certainly added more ‘flavor’ to the long-term effects Felix went through in his life and how well-equipped Luke was at dealing with him. It almost made it, but...the book (as I hope you’ve seen by now because it’s best to read these extra scenes after you’ve finished the book!) was already on the chunky side, and I’d already shown that Felix was struggling to get mentally healthier, and how Luke handled things. If you read Cake & Comfort, there’s a scene with a similar beat, so it felt a little redundant.

It’s a slightly angsty abuse scene, but it also has comfort. It shouldn’t be hard to read if you’re not up for the hard stuff, but be aware of the abuse content warning. I’ve rambled enough, so I’ll let the scene speak for itself. So, for your reading pleasure, I’ll let Felix take over.

Darkness surrounded me, but it was neither pleasant nor warm. It was thick, heavy, and wrapped tightly around my chest as I struggled to escape the haze of terror that the inky blackness seemed to be made of. Deep down, I knew I was asleep. I could feel the writhing just past the wall of black and recoiled from it, desperate to get as far away as humanly possible. I knew what was waiting for me there.

Or rather, who was waiting for me.

That realization was enough for some of it to leak through, finding little holes in the net of blackness. It came to me in the stench of cheap liquor and the rough fingers gripping my body. I’d always hated his touch, even when it was done out of some misplaced sense of ‘love’ or his twisted idea of what affection was supposed to be. Even when I was too young to understand what was happening to me, I knew this was not love and that ‘affection’ for him was just a prelude to what he was really after.

“You love this,” his raspy voice hissed in my ear, and that was all it took. I jerked away, tearing through the net of darkness as I flinched. Eyes wide, I stared up at the ceiling, and it wasn’t the water-stained, cracked ceiling of my childhood apartment. Just as quick was the realization that the smell of liquor, sour and biting, was only in my head. Instead, I could detect only my own sweat and something far more pleasant.

My heart thundered as I turned my head to confirm that Luke was lying there next to me. He was on his side, facing away from me, so all I could see was the broad expanse of his back as it rose and fell. For a moment, I thought I’d felt him move just before I jerked myself out of the nightmare that had threatened to become so much worse. The movement had probably been me, though, my body helping me break out of the net of horrifying memories.

I reached out to touch his back and remembered the calloused dream hands wrapping around my wrists, usually to keep me from getting away or to pin me to a dirty mattress. I closed my eyes as my stomach lurched but knew there was no way I could fight off the nausea burning in my gut. A wet noise choked in my throat, and I rolled out of bed, trying not to wake Luke from his peaceful sleep but also needing to move as fast as possible.

In trying to achieve both goals, I nearly failed at both. I only just managed to get to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and flipping on the fan to hopefully drown out any noise before I had to fling myself at the toilet. Never had I been so glad Luke was the type to leave the seat up, something I’d teased him about because it was such a clichéd straight man thing to do. Now, though, I was thankful because it meant the contents of our late-night snacking ended up in the toilet rather than all over it.

As my stomach emptied into the bowl, each heave sounded too much like a sob. The dream hadn’t been crystal clear, so I didn’t know precisely what I’d seen, but I didn’t need to. The memories in my head were vivid enough that I could make what I thought was a pretty accurate guess about what I’d been dreaming. I tried to imagine it was my parents that I was expelling from my body rather than reheated pizza and nachos. I could almost let myself believe I was ridding myself of all they had done to me, of all the poison they had fed into my soul through their cruelty and selfishness.

Once it was all said and done, I pressed my burning face against the cold porcelain and closed my eyes, my stomach still turning. There was nothing left to empty, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to roll around like it was set to a spin cycle. I tried to tell myself the shame and self-hatred I felt were normal. Every professional I had bothered to share things about my childhood with told me those were two perfectly natural emotions for abuse victims. But that didn’t mean I was guilty of anything or that I had invited what had been done to me and brought it on myself. I would tell myself I wasn’t at fault, that nothing I had done deserved it, and that I was guilt-free.

Yeah, right.

I jerked when a hand came down on my back and flailed my arms uselessly at the large shadow standing over me. I registered it was Luke when he leaned back, his eyes wide in surprise but otherwise unfazed. I stared at him as my heart continued to hammer, but now it was out of fear and guilt—fear because he was seeing me like this, and guilt that I had managed to disturb him.

“Gonna throw up again?” he asked softly, laying his hand back on my shoulder.

“Nothing left to throw up,” I chuckled, searching for a ready-made excuse and realizing I had one. “Guess you were right. I shouldn’t have eaten that pizza.”

I was glad my eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the lie. Even that relief was short-lived as I felt his fingers flex against my shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to notice. Then came the silence that, while not necessarily long, was just long enough that I had to fight the urge to look up into his face and read whatever was there. The problem was Luke had always had a good poker face, and I couldn’t decipher his expressions the way I could with others. Honestly, sometimes, it was terrifying to think about how much faith I had in him.

“Must’ve been some nasty leftovers,” he said quietly. “Considering you were shaking and the bed’s soaked with sweat.”

“I…yeah,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “Guess it was.”

“Give you some funny dreams?”

“Something like that.”

Now I knew he knew I was lying, but he was giving me the chance to own up gracefully or to double down on it. The realization would have curdled in my gut if my stomach wasn’t already sour. Yet even with this new sense of guilt and shame, I knew what I would choose. I couldn’t bring myself to admit to him what happened in the dream, or in my past. I had told him some things but not that.

I couldn’t, not yet. One day, but today was not that day.

“Here,” he said, holding out a bottle of water. “Sip this, I’ll get a shower started.”

“It’s just an upset stomach, I didn’t piss myself,” I snorted, taking the water.

“And when you start to feel a little better, you’ll be glad you aren’t covered in all that sweat,” he said, and I knew he was right.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up enough to sip the water. There was still a foul taste in my mouth, but the water helped wash it away while Luke got the shower running before disappearing. I assumed this was my cue to get up off the floor and into the shower. I had no doubt the temperature was set precisely where I was most comfortable because Luke was just the person who would remember such a strangely specific detail after seeing it a few times.

I picked myself up, grabbed the toothbrush off the sink, and scoured the inside of my mouth with toothpaste while the water ran. Once I was sure I’d gotten the taste of my stomach contents out, I began to strip. I had managed to get down to my underwear when he reappeared with a couple of towels and what looked like a robe in his hand.

“Figured there wasn’t much point in getting you a full change of clothes,” he said with a small smile. “Plus, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked. You can sleep in the buff.”

We both slept in the nude around each other anyway, but that was just because the big bastard was a furnace when he was asleep.

“And the robe?”

“Hey, even in this room, a little cover on your skin is better than nothing when you’re wet.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, setting them down as I pushed my underwear off and stepped into the shower. Closing my eyes, I soaked up the feeling of the water beating down on me, the temperature perfect. I’d had only a few minutes before the curtain rattled softly. Tensing, I twisted to find Luke stepping into the shower behind me. Out of pure habit, I looked over his naked body and found it as nice to stare at as always. He was built strong without being a brick shithouse, and while he could be as rough and dominating as his big hands might suggest, I knew just how gentle those hands could be.

“Hey,” I said as my stomach rolled again, thinking of a different pair of hands.

“Hey,” he replied gently, reaching to lay his hands on my sides. I was so thankful he simply set them there, letting them rest rather than holding or pulling me. It allowed the terrified animal part of my brain to register there was no danger in this enclosed space. It was simply Luke.

Just…Luke.

That thought bounced and skittered around my head as he took the body wash and lathered my shoulders and back. There was such care in how he moved his hands up and down my body, slow and meticulous, but never once did I sense he was ‘trying’ anything. Even when he reached around to wash my soft dick, his movements were just as careful as before, but I sensed no desire as he moved on to my thighs.

It was so devoid of lust, and that was ultimately what I needed. I knew then that I was in the presence of someone who simply cared about me, who, against all odds and his sexuality, wanted me sexually, but that wasn’t the sole reason we had what we had. He was in this shower with me, aware I was holding back the truth from him, but here he was, trying his best to take care of me, even though he knew damn well I could have showered on my own.

“Wasn’t sure if you were going to let me do this,” he said with a low chuckle, as if he could read my thoughts. “You struck me as the type to insist on being left alone when you aren’t feeling good.”

“I normally am the type,” I admitted softly. “Maybe you’re just special.”

“I have four sisters who’d agree with you.”

That managed to make me smile. “I don’t blame them. I know what it’s like to have a special brother.”

Finally giving in to my feelings, I let myself fall back against him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around my chest and hold me there as the water fell around us. I was positioned just under his head so the spray hit him before it reached me. The combination of his presence wrapping itself gently around me, with my permission no less, and the sound of running water was enough to bleed some of the ugly tension out of me. It wasn’t going away for good, or even entirely, but then again, I had always known it would be with me for life.

This was, however, the first time I had ever felt it was possible to find real and complete happiness with another person.

“Thank you,” I said, managing to muster just enough energy that it wasn’t lost in the sound of the shower.

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

“Now there’s a thanks you never thought you’d be giving without a scowl.”

I turned my face into his chest with a grin. “Yeah, but then again, I didn’t think I’d meet someone who could care for me without making me feel helpless or incapable. So maybe I was right the first time—you are special.”

He was a perfect blend of the strong, thinking type who exuded masculinity but was still capable of empathy and understanding. That combination let him weather the storm of whatever crap followed me around while still making me feel safe rather than like a burden. Maybe it wasn’t time that healed the wounds, or not just time. Maybe it was the people too. The ones like my brother, who did his bumbling best to help me, and people like Luke, who accepted me for the mess I was while continually finding ways to care for me and quietly encouraging my attempts to improve.

“We should probably get out before we turn into prunes,” I muttered after several minutes of comfortable silence.

“We can, or we can become prunes. That’s up to you,” he told me.

“I think…I want to lay down,” I said, gently pulling away from him. “I probably won’t sleep again, but I’d rather just lay down.”

“Sure, we can throw something on the TV.”

“Buffy?”

He chuckled, leaning down, and I knew what he wanted. Despite the horrifying reminder of my past still seared in my brain, I found the disgust at the idea of sex or intimacy that followed my nightmares was absent. I accepted his kiss, feeling my chest flutter hopefully as I leaned into him. Again, there was no lust in the gesture, just the sensation of being cared for…protected.

“Buffy,” he affirmed as he flipped the water off and stepped out.

I noticed he didn’t try to ‘push his luck’ by toweling me off, but the cheeky bastard still helped me get into the robe before he finished drying himself and pulled on his sleep pants. The moment was more domestic than anything I remembered sharing with a previous partner, right down to the goofy kiss on the top of my head before he nibbled at my neck to make me laugh. The gesture made me smile a little more as he walked me back to the bed, which I saw had new sheets.

I curled up against his chest, my head angled so I could still see the TV as he flipped to the episode where we’d left off. If he was tired after being woken up, he showed no signs of it as he let me wrap myself around him before taking the cue and holding me tight. This man had managed to crack the code of Felix that even I hadn’t known existed. This wonderfully strange, handsome, compassionate man who should have been the straight best friend I risked having a crush on, but who was now a lover I would cling to for everything that drew me to him.

Maybe if I played my cards right, this could be for life…this could be love.

Author’s Notes

See what I mean? I say to the readers who did read Cake & Comfort. That was extremely similar to a pivotal moment between Sylas and Grant, and it felt a little redundant to include in this one. 'But Romeo,' you might say, 'There are several story beats that overlap between this book and the last,' and you’d be right. That was one thing I was aware of going into this unexpected book, and I became even more aware of it as time went on.

Anyway, enough of my paranoia, let's get onto the second scene I mean to include here, and it’s unique because it was never written until after the book in question was already done.

Now, the reason I didn't include this one is simple, I try to keep the heat levels of the book's appropriate themes and tone. The problem is that sometimes I write a dynamic that lends itself to being...quite spicy. Luke and Felix are a prime example of this. The story doesn't shy from having those spicy scenes, but the theme and tone of the book is...not sexually focused, but damn if I didn't have a bit of fun writing their sex scenes anyway.

So, while I absolutely wanted to write this scene and include it, I decided instead to use another scene and leave this one unwritten.

Problem is, I kind of liked the scene's idea initially because I thought it could almost be an inversion of how Grant wouldn't bottom (for good reason), but in this, Luke is the one trying out bottoming. Then, I realized that was ridiculous. That didn't work because Luke wasn't Grant's brother, and Felix was already inverting that by being himself.

Still, I love the idea and wanted to write it, so here you go, you might as well reap the benefits.

“So…you’re verse, right?” I blurted out before considering whether this was the appropriate time and place to broach the subject.

“Hmph?” he grunted thickly because apparently no one had ever told him not to speak with his mouth…and throat full. The look of confusion on his face would have been cute, but it was marred by the fact that he currently had my dick lodged in his throat. It had been his idea to give me a blowjob while we were sitting around watching old horror movies, which was an odd choice, but it didn’t take long for me to stop paying attention to what was on the screen.

But the question had been bumping around in my head ever since we’d discussed it. Nothing detailed or with any expectation, but much like that moment of waking up to find him jerking me off, the idea stuck around and bugged me. I thought about it off and on for days, and now the question burst out of me as he slid down the full length of my cock in that exceptional way he managed while he knelt between my legs.

Of course, now I was torn between wanting him to continue—because watching him slide back off, still kneeling there rock hard, was a ridiculously intoxicating sight—and wanting to get this conversation out of the way. He licked his lips, which was really not helping me focus, even though I had only myself to blame.

“Sometimes I wonder if straight men being educated on gay things is a win for the world or not,” he said, eyeing me.

“Hey! That’s mean,” I said.

“I was enjoying myself,” he said, and then the little devil decided to grab my dick and give it a few strokes. “And you wanted to ask me a question I’ve already answered.”

“So…yes?”

“Yes, Luke. Is there a point to this?”

“Do you…miss it?”

“I’m always verse.”

“Yeah, but you’re…pure bottom with me.”

He cocked his head. “Well, yeah, I am. I tend to…I don’t know, chameleon to the partner I have. Since you’re pretty much the epitome of big, strong, dom, top, I let loose with my subby, bottom self.”

‘Subby’ wasn’t the word I’d use to describe how he acted when we were sleeping together. He could be this hard-to-describe but easy-to-love combination of eager, submissive, almost virginal, and demanding, hungry slut. If someone else had described it to me, I would never have thought the combination could be pulled off, and I would never have known what a weakness it was for me. Yet here I was, a guy who could usually keep his hormones under control, having difficulty staying on topic and probably only succeeding because this could end up somewhere I wanted to try going.

“Okay, then, do you miss topping?” I asked, trying to hold my attention on his eyes instead of anything else, hoping it would keep me focused.

That made him laugh. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I miss it. But I mean, when I see a nice ass, there’s that feeling, you know the one, where you just wanna…stick yourself in it.”

I was familiar with that feeling. It had been planted in my head weeks ago, before I’d even tried kissing him, and now it was fully grown, almost an obsession. I still didn’t know if it was possible to ‘learn’ how to have gay thoughts or if they were unlocked from some secret vault in your head. When it came to Felix, though, it didn’t matter which explanation was true, because there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted his body, from the delightfully soft but tight ass to the narrow frame that fit perfectly against and under mine. And yeah, even his dick, which was only impressive to me, was something I had quickly grown to love seeing and having in my mouth.

“I know what you mean,” I chuckled roughly. “Do you get that with mine?”

“Uh, do you want me to?”

“Felix.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I never wanted to say anything in case it, like…stepped on some weird masculinity toe or something.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief. “I’ve been sexually active with you for weeks. Very active.”

He snorted. “Trust me, there is a whole subset of gay and bi men that get really prickly at even the mention that someone might want to top them, let alone consider the possibility.”

“And you…think I’d do that?”

“Well…no, now that you call it into question, that doesn’t strike me as a you thing to do.”

“Thanks for that, at least,” I said with a snort.

He leaned forward, and for a moment, I thought he would resume, but instead, he nuzzled the side of my dick and gave it a little kiss. “I’m trying to figure this out. Do you want to bottom?”

“I mean,” I said, eyes locked on his lips as they kissed gently up and down my shaft. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” he repeated, bringing his mouth down to run his tongue over my balls and make me groan. “Have you had anything more than fingers in your ass?”

“No,” I admitted, wondering if this was his way of lowering my defenses so I’d be honest with him or if he was just getting off on teasing me…probably both. “Had the one ex who really wanted to try pegging.”

“And you didn’t want to?”

“I…considered it, but it was her, and I just…”

“Just…what?”

I dug around in my head for the explanation, which was challenging when your incredibly sexy boyfriend was doing extremely sexual things to you. The answer to his question finally burst out of me, much like my original question. “Because that’s a vulnerable thing…to me. And I couldn’t be that level of vulnerable with her.”

He stopped, eyes fixed on my face as the seconds ticked by in heartbeats. “But…you can be with me?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation, and I didn’t need the flash of realization to know I was speaking the truth. I trusted Felix, and hell, if all the other things we did together, including him sticking a couple of fingers inside me when he was blowing me, felt good, his dick had to feel pretty good too. Sure, it was bigger than two of his fingers, and the man wasn’t exactly lacking despite his smaller size, but not only did I trust him to make it comfortable for me, I was damn sure he would do his best to make it feel good too.

“Huh,” he said, leaning back and snatching the lube off the table. “Then let’s find out.”

“Just like that?” I asked, eyes widening as he opened the lube and spread it over himself.

“Babe,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver through me. “I might not have dreamed of it, but I’ve seen your ass squeezed into jeans or bouncy and free, trust me. If you’re going to give me the chance to get my dick in there, I’m going to take it. And remember, if it gets uncomfortable or painful, you gotta speak up.”

“I mean…doesn’t it always get uncomfortable and painful?”

“It won’t be painful by the time I’m done. I just like it when you make it hurt because I’m a masochist, and it’s hot as hell feeling you fill me up so fast.”

“Noted,” I said, stiffening as a finger slid into me. One digit wouldn’t be a big deal, even when a second was added. It was after that I was…well, not concerned, but I could feel nervousness fluttering in my chest. “But discomfort?”

He chuckled and slid in a second finger. “You remember the first time you let someone stick a finger in you? Was that uncomfortable?”

“I mean…it was weird,” I admitted, incredibly aware of his fingers rotating gently inside me. “Kinda like now.”

“That’s because you’re tensing up. You’re more aware of it.”

“I’m not…trying to be.”

He smiled gently. “Trust me, it’s pretty normal the first time, especially when you know it’s going to happen. But again, that discomfort?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said slowly, hissing as he ran his tongue from my balls up my shaft. “It was weird. Not like bad weird, but kinda weird?”

“It’s like that with a dick in you too. The bigger the object, the more weird the feeling,” he explained, taking one of my balls in his mouth and running his tongue along it.

I realized he was trying to distract me by getting me to talk while teasing me with his mouth, but I wasn’t so ridiculously proud as to pretend it wasn’t working. It didn’t hurt that he exuded pure confidence as he gently ran his fingers in and out of me while stroking my dick with his other hand. Then he took me in his mouth, and my groan strangled a little when a third finger slid into me. I could tell what he meant. This was the most I’d ever had in me, and it was more intense than the awkwardness of one or two fingers.

Then his mouth slid down further, his fingers found the nerves inside me, and I realized the weird feeling didn’t matter quite as much if this was the payoff. Even the stretching, while strange at first, was surprisingly arousing as he worked his three fingers into me. A feeling that intensified when he started spreading me apart, pushing at the muscles inside me like I’d done to him before.

I had no idea how long I sat there, swinging between discomfort and pleasure as he worked me over, taking his time. I had to admit, though, his patience and persistence were paying off. I didn’t even notice any lingering ache from his fingers. I could only feel him inside me and the pleasure every time he brushed over those nerves, which I knew full well might send me over the edge if they were triggered too much.

“I think I’m okay,” I told him, glad my voice didn’t shake.

He pulled off, grabbing the lube once more. “Alright, you want to, uh, be on top?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “You know what you’re doing, always have.”

He chuckled and positioned us so I was practically lying on the edge of the couch with my ass hanging over it. Not that I minded. I knew it was so he was in the right position without breaking his knees. I noted he didn’t remove his fingers from me but used his free hand to arrange me. Once I was settled, he used that same hand to lube himself up, and I found myself watching his cock. I wondered if it really was going to fit comfortably. Then again, I had to remind myself that he had taken me with three fingers of prep or less, and he’d been patient preparing me, so I trusted he knew what he was doing.

His fingers slid out of me, and before I could decide if I missed the sensation, I felt a single, thick thing take their place, and my breath caught as he pushed into me. It was just the head and perhaps another inch, but it was certainly more than three fingers. Yet along with surprise at how easily he had moved into me came the realization that…it wasn’t that bad. That sense of discomfort had returned, but it was so middling and quiet that I could tune it out.

“Oh,” I said, surprise in my voice. “That’s uh…okay, I think that’s okay.”

He chuckled and pushed forward. “Let’s find out.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the further he slid into me, the more intense the sensations. It wasn’t like his fingers could get as deep inside me as his dick could, and at a certain point, he had to take it slower. Even then, though, there was only one moment when I felt an unwelcome jolt of pain. Nothing severe but enough to make me tense in surprise, and he immediately halted. Which, of course, was his cue to reach down with his lubed hand, wrap it around my cock, and begin stroking.

I hadn’t noticed my dick flagging during all that, but the moment he grabbed hold, it sprang right back to life. At the same time, those last couple of inches of him managed to find their way into me, until his hips were pressed against my ass. Our eyes met, and he held still, stroking me lazily, probably to let me adjust. The thing was, other than that one spasm of pain, there had been nothing to make me feel like we needed to wait.

He began to move, at first carefully, almost tentatively, and I found myself entranced by the feeling of having his cock inside me. It was warm and felt thick, but the thickness was…comforting, actually. Even as he picked up speed, I felt nothing but warmth where our bodies joined. Pleasure was starting to build inside me, no longer held back by my nervousness and hesitation.

Then he shifted his position, and something inside me lit my whole body with a sudden burst of intense pleasure. I gasped, feeling my cock jump in his hand, and apparently, Felix knew exactly what that kind of noise meant because he never once let up. In fact, he began to fuck me faster and harder. This required him to sort of hunch so he could thrust down into me, but if it was uncomfortable, he showed no signs of it.

“Holy fuck,” I groaned as he started pounding into me.

I could see why Felix always looked so wrapped up in the moment whenever I was inside him. A finger or two inside me while he gave me head was still amazing, but this was something else entirely. This was the nerves inside me flaring to life every time he thrust in and out, filling me with a pleasure that wasn’t focused in one spot but spread across most of my body. I couldn’t resist reaching down, taking over where Felix had left off, and stroking myself rapidly.

“Oh God,” I choked out as the pleasure built and I felt a familiar but far more intense tension in my groin. “Felix.”

“Do it,” he groaned, making it a demand and a plea.

I was helpless to resist, and I cried out, my legs instinctively wrapping around his body and pulling him close as my cock pulsed in my hand. I felt a new warmth pooling inside my ass, and from his heaving gasps, I knew he was coming. I’d never realized before that someone on the receiving end could actually feel it while it was happening. Yet here he was, coating my insides for the first time in my life while I made an absolute mess of my hand, stomach, chest, and the couch.

I was shaking a little when the orgasm finally released me, leaving me weak and weary as my legs dropped, freeing him from their hold. He pulled out, and I watched as he bent down, an evil glint in his eyes, to run his tongue from the base of my flagging cock up to the head. I hissed as my poor, overstimulated dick protested, but then he stopped, using his tongue instead to trace a trail through the mess I’d made of my torso before he finally pushed up to my face.

I kissed him then. It wasn’t the first time I’d tasted myself on someone else’s tongue, and I knew Felix especially loved it when I did that. He’d never said, but I think on some level, there was still the thrill of ‘bagging’ himself a straight guy, so watching or experiencing me do things that were traditionally not strictly heterosexual gave him a kick he didn’t try to deny. I was perfectly content to let him have that without a fight, though. It wasn’t like I tasted bad, and if it made him happy, all the better.

“Probably stupid to ask considering what I just felt and witnessed, but good?” he asked, and there was an uncommon shyness in his eyes as he pulled away to look me over.

“I was definitely right to let you take over,” I told him with a grin. “Though I wish I knew I would come that much just from a dick in me. I would’ve put down a towel…your poor couch.”

“It’ll survive,” he chuckled.

“Thanks,” I told him. “Not just for the orgasm, which was, uh, I think, the best one? Well, no, there was the time that you…eh, anyway. Thanks for being so patient with me. I know from personal experience how hard that can be when you just wanna stick it in.”

“It was worth the slightly frustrating delayed gratification,” he said, kissing me gently. “And thank you for trusting me. It means…well, it means a lot.”

“It’s not hard to do,” I said, sitting up carefully and realizing I wasn’t going to be able to get up without making an even bigger mess.

“What?”

“Trust you.”

The expression on his face said this was a revelation to him, but I wasn’t surprised. He was far harder on himself than he needed to be, but thankfully, he at least seemed to try to accept it when I told him things like this. It wasn’t perfect, but I thought it was a good step in the right direction. One day, we might find a way to be truly open and trusting with one another, where he could fully accept what I had to say and I didn’t have to worry about upsetting him. But that was for the future, after we’d put in the effort over time.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he told me, kissing my cheek in an unusually tender gesture for him.

I watched him go, feeling light and warm, and thought that while it would probably take a while for us to get there, I was more than willing to wait.

It would be worth it.

And there it is, the last spicy and sweet scene I have for you.

Honestly, I thought I'd be writing a book where a straight guy struggled with this newfound aspect of his sexuality while comfortable in his sexuality but not so comfortable in his head bi man would struggle with being with a potential flight risk. And yet, as many writers will tell you, the story you plan is rarely the story you write...or the one that writes itself while you're just the vehicle for its voice.

I'm not going to argue with the result of this one. It might have made me worried at times because of how tightly wrapped around the last book it was, but I still found myself in love with these two by the end of it. Honestly, I hope you, my dear Reader, also found some love for them.

And with the end of these bonus scenes, I will have to close the curtain on Fairlake for now. The stories have been told. My boys have their happy endings. Maybe one day in the future, I'll revisit them, do a little side thing to show how they're all doing five or so years later but that's for another time.

So until the next book, my dear Reader, I hope you've enjoyed Fairlake, and I hope to see you again in the future.

Yours,

Romeo Alexander