Fatherhood and Frustrations

ZACH

Fatherhood has dawned upon me, and it’s an emotion that defies description.

Tonight, as I gaze at the two boys nestled between Violet and Tyler, I’m hit with the profound realization that they’re my flesh and blood.

They don’t mirror my features, nor do they resemble Violet. Maybe they’re the perfect fusion of our genes, making them equally ours.

Their dimples peek out when they smile in their dreams, and their hair is as dark as mine, but that’s where the likeness stops.

I think they’ve inherited Violet’s lips and chin. Perhaps her stature too, considering they’re currently petite and slender like her.

I was always a hefty kid, but I have no idea what Violet was like as a child.

Their eyes are a stormy gray, reminiscent of clouds on a rainy day. I’m curious about what color they’ll morph into as they grow.

We both have blue eyes, so it’s probable they’ll have blue eyes too, isn’t it?

My eyes drift to the untouched side of the bed.

Callum didn’t join us in bed.

He bathed Ella and Tilly as usual, read them their favorite giraffe book, and then he excused himself, saying he had work to do.

I’m certain he doesn’t have any work.

His team is capable of handling things on their own.

I lay in bed for hours, anticipating his return, but he never shows up.

Violet rises to feed the boys, and I assist in changing Atticus’s diaper while she tends to Asher. Then she settles down again, breastfeeding both of them.

I’m not sure how she does it, but they’re both latched onto her.

Atticus is practically sprawled on top of Asher, who’s on a pillow. It appears uncomfortable, but they’re all asleep, so who am I to question it?

I probably wait another hour before I decide to venture out to the office, or the outbuilding, as Callum refers to it.

I’m clad only in my boxers, and the night air is biting, to say the least. But it’s a brief walk, and soon I’m indoors.

I tread lightly down the hallway, careful not to disturb Carter, Carson, and Ryan, who still reside here. After all, it’s two forty in the morning.

Callum is exactly where I suspected he’d be.

He’s stationed at a computer in the conference room, developing a new app for his clients. It’s an innovative feature that will be incorporated into our service package. It’ll allow us to track their location if they get separated from us, and it has an SOS feature for emergencies. But that assumes they still have their phone or smartwatch.

Callum is confident he can implant tiny chips in jewelry, but I have my doubts.

How would the SOS system function then?

He didn’t have a response for me, but I’m confident he’ll devise one soon. And when he does, I’ll make it a reality.

“You never came to bed,” I remark, perching on the long table where he conducts his weekly meetings.

“I didn’t,” he acknowledges, typing away. Likely coding something.

“What are you up to?”

“Troubleshooting,” he responds, his voice hushed and curt. He’s evidently upset.

“What’s troubling you?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Come on, Cal. We’ve known each other long enough for me to recognize when something’s amiss.”

“Just let it go, go back to bed.”

“No,” I retort, dragging a chair over to sit adjacent to his desk. I prop my feet up, balancing the chair on two legs.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you that chairs have four legs for a reason?”

“Spill it.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” he asserts. Yeah, and I wasn’t born a fucking jerk, a devil’s spawn.

I sit silently, contemplating my next move.

Clearly, something’s upset him. It’s either Dr. Fellows or…oh shit, maybe it’s the paternity.

That makes sense. Of course.

I should’ve realized how that would impact him.

“She didn’t mean it, you know?”

“Mean what?” he inquires, his jaw tightening with rage.

“She doesn’t want more kids. She’s just feeling low right now.”

“You can’t speak for her, Zach.” Bingo!

“You’ll get your chance. She made a promise. She’ll honor it.”

“Just drop it, Zach.”

“No!” I push the computer screen aside and swivel his chair to face me. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but he looks dejected.

I don’t think he’s angry, but if he won’t confide in me, how can we resolve anything?

“Callum,” I say, lifting his face to meet my gaze.

Suddenly, he lunges forward, kissing me in a manner that’s so unlike him. Well, unlike him with me, anyway.

Not that I don’t reciprocate. No, I match his intensity, and I relish this passion he usually conceals.

His hands are forceful, clutching at my skin as we tumble backward onto the floor.

Well, damn. He was right about chairs having four legs for a reason.

Somehow we end up with me lying beneath him on the floor, my hands fumbling with his T-shirt until it’s off him.

I trace a finger down the center of his chiseled eight-pack.

His muscles are well-defined since we started working out together.

He’s hot, hotter than hot.

Our builds and muscle sizes are almost identical, except he’s bulkier and a tad shorter. And my dark tan pales in comparison to his lighter, creamier skin.

His nipples are a medium pink, while mine are a darker brown.

His happy trail is light and barely visible, while my dark hair contrasts against my skin.

I flip him over so he’s lying beneath me, then I push him down forcefully.

Asserting my dominance, I kiss him the way he just kissed me.

My tongue explores his mouth, mingling our saliva, while my hands work their way down his body, undoing the button on his jeans, pushing them aside.

Everything is progressing too smoothly, too effortlessly.

He doesn’t plead with me to stop or panic, not when I push his pants down and tear his boxers off, not when I seize his already erect cock in one hand while biting the soft flesh between his shoulder and neck.

I jerk him off swiftly, not halting until my palm is slick with his climax.

He’s panting heavily with his eyes shut when I manage to flip him over so he’s facing away from me.

I use his own cum as lubricant to prepare him.

He groans when I push a finger inside, swirling his cum before adding another finger to stretch him out.

We’ve never gone beyond this here, but I crave more, and I know I have to take it slow. I’m exercising as much restraint as I possibly can. I don’t push the head of my penis inside him until his breathing intensifies again.

But he’s been too silent…too silent since he kissed me.

“You want this, right, Callum?” I ask. I’ve made many mistakes in my life, but the worst was taking Tyler without his explicit consent. I never asked if he truly wanted it.

“I haven’t stopped you, have I?” he responds in a deep, gruff voice I’ve never heard him use before.

I take that as consent to slowly work the rest of the way inside him. He groans as I bottom out, and I stay still even though my body is screaming at me to pound into him mercilessly.

“This has been a long time coming,” I murmur, pulling him up so he’s kneeling in front of me.

He doesn’t utter a word as I start moving or when I find a rhythm we both enjoy. He’s a quiet lover, one you have to observe closely to know if they’re enjoying themselves or not.

I only know he’s riding the wave of ecstasy because of his gritted teeth and harsh swallowing.

And I know he’s about to explode when he clenches his fists and lets out a harsh breath.

“Come with me, Callum?” I demand, slamming into him as hard as I can before I release myself into him for the first time.

“Fuck,” is all he utters before his cum lands on the carpet in front of him.

“So good,” I tell him, kissing from his ear to his shoulder, “so fucking good.”

“I love you, Zach,” he finally says. Now we can commence the rest of our forever.