Page 82 of The Key Holder

“Seems that way. The world they lived in refused to accept their love.”

“That’s awful.” Dylan grabbed my arm, leaning into my body. “So this is a monument?” he asked, his voice solemn.

“Yes.” I put away my phone and wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

I could feel the weight of the story testing our relationship. I was confident in my own feelings, but would Dylan want to share me with his friends? What was going to happen when we went home? He seemed serious, but we hadn’t talked about what our lives looked like after the summer.

"We should add to it. Because the world has changed," Dylan said, his voice thick with emotion, "and we're not going to let it tear us apart." He moved to the shoreline, searching, until he bent down to grab a stone. He found a small, smooth, dark one, and turned, expectantly, to look at me.

His confidence in us was heartening, and I couldn’t help but feel his optimism, especially after he added, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I nodded, looking for my own and found one. It was larger and paler than his, almost heart-shaped. Together, we walked to the mound. Dylan placed his stone carefully, like an offering, on the growing pile. I placed mine right beside it. Our hands brushed, and we looked at each other, a shared understanding passing between us.

In that moment, my earlier hesitations about us faded until all I felt was an all-consuming joy. Our future felt as solid as the stones in the mound.

20

Dylan

Ever since we returned from camping, Ford had been extra attentive, snuggly even. And not just in bed. A casual touch of my hip as he passed in the hall, or a little ass squeeze as I washed the dishes. It made me feel appreciated. I’d never been with anyone so attentive and it was the best feeling.

A sharp knock at the door made me jump, pulling me back to the moment. I had been so lost in thought over Ford, I wasn’t even reading the book in my hands. Heaving myself off the couch, I headed to the door, hoping it wasn’t River or his two boy toys. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and let it out.

It was just a UPS guy, holding a package. "For Ford," he said, his voice as ordinary as the afternoon. I took the box, a plain, brown parcel, and carried it into the kitchen. Ford came down the stairs, a question on his face until I said, "A strange man brought you a package."

"Is it a big package?" Ford asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Pretty big," I replied, then added, “but not as big as the bulge in the delivery guy’s shorts. It was huge."

Ford closed the distance between us and shoved me playfully. "Don’t make me spank you!"

“I told you I liked that.” I pulled my shorts down. “In fact, why don’t you do it right now?”

Smack!

“Harder.”

Smack!

That one hurt a little bit more, but I liked it. My hips instinctively bucked forward, grinding against the air. My dick was half-hard already. “Oh god, that was…keep going, please.

Smack!

“Just like that.” I was breathing heavier now, a low groan rolling through my chest. I leaned forward, bracing myself on the counter. "Don't stop.”

“Don’t stop what?” he whispered in my ear. His breath sent shivers through my body.

“Don’t stop, daddy.” I wasn’t joking anymore. Calling him that felt right.

Ford chuckled. “I was looking for please.”

“Please don’t stop, daddy.”

“Fuck.”

I looked over my shoulder at Ford. “What?”

“You’re so fucking hot right now.”