Page 110 of Sliding into Love
The three of them laugh as they follow me inside. Our space is a warm, inviting space for guests. I try to take it in as if I’m a first-time guest, since that’s exactly how Gideon and Carver will see it.
The first thing you notice when you step inside is the atmosphere of the home itself. The house smells faintly of cedar, vanilla, and buttery goodness that is definitely coming from the kitchen. I baked earlier, and there’s no denying the scent has lingered.
Light spills softly through wide windows, filtered by linen curtains that move just slightly with each breath of air. They’re a soft touch I felt necessary in a home with this much testosterone.
The living room is wide and welcoming, with deep armchairs arranged around a stone fireplace that will be heavily used in thewinter months despite it never getting too cold here. I just can’t resist a good fire.
Shelves line one wall, filled with books that look read, not staged, and family photos tucked between small pieces of art. It’s nothing loud or showy, just a quiet sense of taste. Every surface feels intentional without being perfect: a mug left half-finished on the coffee table, a soft throw blanket slung over the arm of the couch. Wood floors gleam underfoot, their shine softened by thick woven rugs.
“Take your shoes off and stick around for a while. I made some fresh pastries earlier in the day. Would you like some? And maybe a drink?” I ask our guests.
Gideon looks to Carver for the answer. His face is pleading, a fact that will most assuredly get him what he’s wanting.
“We’ll take what you’re offering,” Carver tells me as he wraps a hand around the side of Gideon’s throat. “My boy deserves a treat for making the ride all the way here on the bike.”
“That’s the farthest you’ve gone so far, right?”
“Yep. And very much worth it. Lots of scenic views.”
I move to leave the room but stop when I hear Gideon call out for me. “Yes?”
“Can we come with you? I want to see your kitchen.”
Smiling, I wave a hand for him to follow. I always forget he enjoys watching others cook and prepare his food. It’s a leftover trait from his time of being locked away. He doesn’t talk about it much. I have no doubt his food was likely tampered with though. It’s a common trait amongst those taken.
In the kitchen, they all settle on the oversized stools across the island from me. We make small talk as I gather the food and pour drinks. It’s domestic. It’s simple. And it feels so much like home I can’t contain my smile.
When Kenny looks my way, I mouth the words, “I love you” to him. He grins, then says it back. Our guests don’t call usout for the moment. If anything, our shared vows have them relaxing even further.
The day becomes one for the memory books. We swap stories, recipes, and wind up watching a movie before the night ends. Carver and Gideon head off for the guest room we set up while Kenny and I clean up the kitchen. My little menace knows I hate going to bed with a mess left behind. He’s more than willing to help if we can wind up together quicker.
“They were nice,” he tells me as he dries a pan.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about. I would never bring anyone here who I thought wouldn’t get along with you. You’re my priority, Kenny baby.”
“Because you love me?”
I grin, stepping into his space and pinning him to the counter. “Yes, Little Menace. I love you. Of course I do. You slid your way into my heart on a home run and wouldn’t leave.”
“A baseball love pun?! Holy shit, Your Majesty. That’s amazing.”
We laugh together in the silence of our home. It’s a moment I could have never predicted. A time I didn’t see coming.
Because there was a time I didn’t know who I was. A time when I didn’t think the world would accept me, so I tried to leave rather than make a splash. A time when I avoided Kenneth Meyer for fear he’d lead me down a dark path again.
For all the bad in our past, the future is looking pretty damn bright.
EPILOGUE I
KENNETH
Their anniversary
The bedroom is dimlylit, only the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows across the space. I'm lying on my back, completely naked, watching Royce set up what they've only vaguely referred to as "a surprise" all week. They move with purpose, and the way they're dressed that tells me this isn't going to be a gentle evening.
The red lace nightie barely covers their ass. It definitely doesn’t cover their cock, which sways proud and free with every step they take.
"What exactly are you planning to do with that?" I ask, my eyes following the machine they've just placed between my legs. It's sleek, expensive-looking, and frankly, intimidating. I've seen similar things in very specific corners of the internet, but never in person.
