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I should have known better. Jackie was more than twenty years my junior and had no sense of discretion whatsoever. He’d come out to everyone, loud and proud, back when he’d been in middle school, and while his mother—my sister—had promptly started shoving the two of us together at every opportunity in order to make sure Jackie had a “strong, proud gay man to look up to,” the truth was that I often couldn’t relate at all to the ballsy and unapologetic way he flaunted his sexuality.
And, at times like this, the way he flaunted mine as well.
“What, am I wrong?” he teased me, his eyes brimming with mirth.
“I do just fine, thank you,” I growled, glaring at him. Wine or not, how we’d strayed so far off the topic of Jackie’s future career plans, I still wasn’t quite sure.
Jackie scoffed. “No, you don’t. You’re afraid to go after what you really want, old man. And let’s face it, you’re not going to be happy until you do.” He leaned forward, a sincerity in his expression that made it hard to ever stay mad at him no matter how outrageous he got. “And I really do want you to be happy, Uncle Cal. You deserve it.”
“Thank you,” I said a little gruffly, touched despite myself.
And then, of course the little shit had to go and ruin the moment. “So, about finding you the right twink…”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you, Jackson,” I said sternly and—as I knew damn well—probably pointlessly.
The kid was relentless, and he had no fear and no filter.
“You should come down to the club with me tonight,” he went on, raising one eyebrow as if it was a dare. “There are lots of boys there who would be happy to let you have your way with them. Call the shots. Order them around a little.” He tipped his head in the direction of the still-blushing busboy who was slowly working at setting the table next to us back to rights, but thankfully lowered his voice for once as he added, “You might even find something like that.”
“That has got to be jailbait,” I retorted in a low whisper.
And… fuck. The comment had been a mistake. I was jet-lagged and definitely off my game tonight, because what I should have done was lied to my nephew and said I didn’t want that. If I was right about how young the boy looked, it was totally inappropriate, and even if the pretty thing was actually legal—
No, I couldn’t let myself entertain that kind of thought.
Jackie laughed, shaking his head at whatever he saw on my face. “Well, if not him, then someone who can actually give you consent, then. You’ve seriously got to loosen up about your preferences, you know? You like them submissive, young, and pretty. There’s no shame in that.”
“I don’t…! Jackie, that’s not… I…”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, drawing in a deep breath as I tried to gather myself. Only my nephew could reduce me to sputtering like that.
He grinned at me. “We like what we like, Uncle Cal. Everyone’s wired differently. Can’t change it, so there’s no point fighting it. I like hairy bears who want to make me hurt, and you crave a pretty little thing who will call you Daddy and beg to be owned. The sooner you face and embrace it, the sooner you can stop wasting your time in relationships that are never going to make you happy.”
I opened my mouth but then closed it again without saying anything, at a complete loss. Was every fucking member of Gen Z this… this open about things that anyone with an ounce of discretion would have realized were private matters? It was an entire generation who’d been raised on oversharing and who thought nothing of flaunting all their dirty secrets on social media. I loved my nephew fiercely, but it was a type of freedom that I couldn’t relate to, no matter how unapologetically I’d used my own success in life to pave the way to living out and proud myself.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Jackie said like a cocky little shit.
I cleared my throat, knowing I should do just that. The problem was, I wasn’t sure he was wrong.
But that didn’t mean I could have what I wanted.
And it didn’t mean it was right to want it.
I took a sip of my chardonnay to buy a moment, then calmly folded my napkin and set it on my lap, took a deep breath, and answered him like a reasonable adult. “What you’re describing isn’t a healthy relationship, and with someone that young—” I subtly tipped my head toward the boy who was now clearing another table a little farther away, “—there would be an imbalance of power that would be problematic.”
Jackie crossed his arms over his chest. “Not necessarily.”
“And as for ‘who cares,’” I went on, ignoring his interjection because the brat would say anything to goad me, but I did have a couple of decades of life experience on him, after all. “I imagine quite a few people would care if I were to… to do what you described, or even if I were to admit to wanting it. Which I don’t.”
He smirked.
I pinned him with a look that had quelled lesser men. “I certainly don’t need to boss my partner around to find satisfaction in the bedroom, and as for wanting to ‘own’ anyone, to have total control over them sexually, to have them look to me for guidance, permission, caretaking…”
I shook my head. The list of things I’d always denied myself had my cock rising, my breath becoming ragged the longer I went on, so I quickly lifted my wineglass to my lips again, hoping Jackie hadn’t noticed.
But of course he had.
“Liar,” he said, his lips twitching with humor. “You totally want—”
