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David's Contribution: Ryan-Chapter 3
Liam's parents were unaware, but their son was everything they had ever wanted. He was a good moral man. Who liked cock instead of the alternative.
Their shock and angst when they were told about Ryan would be of their own making, part of the anxieties that spring from the decision to parent. Liam wasn't the kind of guy that let his parents just randomly figure him out.
His folks were aware, however, in some general sense, that they were responsible for Liam's decisions up to a certain age and afterward, since they had raised him as best they knew, he would get to make his own decisions and take his own consequences, to hone the edge of his life his way.
Ryan and Liam, awake the next morning, treated each other to some loving after a break to a whiz and splash some mouthwash around their molars. The loving was good, it was close, tender, and expressive.
"I want to ask you, Liam," said Ryan. "Where have you been all my life. I feel like I've wasted time without you. Tell me about you when you were a kid? Would I have liked you then?"
"I didn't like me when I was a kid. You wouldn't have either, probably. My dad sold cars in Hoboken, then was out of work for what seemed like a long time to me. I remember because I had to go to school without the new winter coat and boots that everybody else seemed to have. My clothes came from a Goodwill bin. I was glad to get them, but all the kids... well, I knew...the clothes weren't new."
"Then things changed again real sudden," continued Liam, "when mom's brother died and left her enough to buy the store. She and dad found a Korean guy who had to sell his convenience store. He was sick and had decided to sell and move back to his country to be buried with his ancestors there. The store had been, at one time, a bustling place, and my parents thought they could revive it somehow."
"How's it going now?" Ryan asked.
"They're doing well enough to stay open and pay the bills and even bring some home, but it's touch and go. The place has repeat customers from the immediate blocks adjacent, but no one comes from, say, Tribeca to our store as a destination or anything. The diverse mix of ethnic groups who require specialty items in a small store plus the effect of Amazon and grocery delivery services has cut into things, too."
"Every culinary student likes to cook in school because of the variety and amount of ingredients close to hand," said Ryan. "One can add mung beans or something to a recipe because they are always in the cooler. A home refrigerator and freezer and pantry can't begin to compare, and I guess a small convenience store has similar problems trying to please everybody all the time."
Ryan went on. "The thought of running a grocery store crossed my mind a few times. Never followed up on the idea though."
The men lay quietly on the high-thread count cotton sheets on their sides, naked, facing each other, looking at each other, reaching out once in a while to touch the other's face and play with the other's hair, kissing, breathing into each other's mouth, lips touching the other's closed eyelids... wondering how they could have missed the signs of who and what pushed their buttons, thinking about how fucking hard they both came in the last 12 hours; their hearts pounding hard, their cocks straining for release, the thrilling pleasure of togetherness, the raw sex. Ryan didn't remember ever coming so hard or so much. Liam thought he would never be satisfied with a woman again... and certainly not any other man but Ryan, his 'Ri'.
"You up for breakfast?"
"Only if it's nice."
"I know what we'll do. We'll have corn meal mush."
Liam made an 'ew' sound in the back of his throat somewhere.
"Hey, you trusted me enough to allow my cock in your ass last night more than once. If you don't like what I make this morning, I'll take you out for breakfast."
"When you put it that way."
"Follow when ready, Gridley."
"No, that's 'fire' when ready."
"I don't claim to be some literary genius, lover."
"Probably a wise decision, given the facts in evidence."
"Oooh, you are a brat in the morning!"
"Given the ammunition, I'll fire, dude."
"Hey, we already decided that I fire. You're the target here."
"Smart aleck."
"Hot chef cock."
Ryan thought a moment in the kitchen, watched carefully by Liam.
He decided that he would use an Instant Pot. He had a 3 quart and an 8-quart size which seemed a little large for two people, so he used the smaller version. He poured three and one/half cups of water, then a cup of coarsely ground corn meal (not corn flour), added a half cup of chopped dates, one third cup of brown sugar, one/half cup of shredded dry coconut, the zest of 1/2 of one lemon and 1/2 cup of raisins. He stirred the mixture well.
Ryan placed the lid on the Instant Pot, set it so it wasn't venting and set it to cook at low pressure manually for 5 minutes then to natural release for 5 minutes.
Then he vented carefully and removed the lid. He whisked the mixture and made sure the lumps were gone, then replaced the lid, made sure it wasn't venting, set it for 10 more minutes, followed by a natural release for 5 minutes.
After venting again, Ryan took the lid off and whisked the mixture for the last time. He whipped it well enough to mix everything well and destroy any remaining lumps.
He remembered the culinary instructor on the subject of butter in cooking. Some fat was necessary for flavor and texture adjustment and heat retention. Those who decreased butter in certain dishes usually forgot that one needed to divide the number of portions into the fat added.
The 4-5 tablespoons of salted butter that Ryan whisked in to the hot, deluxe corn meal after it was done added a satin sheen to the finished cereal, helped it to stay warm longer, and added flavor to the mix only adding a tablespoon or so of butter per portion. The last ingredients he carefully stirred in was 2 teaspoons of a real vanilla extract and a teaspoon of orange extract.
He didn't think that was excessive and excused the salted butter (versus the unsalted butter he usually used) because he had not added salt to the cereal.
While this wonderful corn meal was cooking, he used a French press to steep fresh coarsely-ground Colombian coffee beans for 2 minutes in super-heated Fiji water.
He took four fresh eggs and cracked them into a clean bowl, whisked them briskly, added a pinch of salt and poured the mixture into a non-stick frying pan warmed to low heat.
He used a non-stick utensil to gently push the now cooking egg mixture in from the edge of the pan to the center causing the uncooked egg mixture to flow out to the edge of the pan. Very slowly, he increased the cooking temperature to just below medium, avoiding color changes in the soft cooked egg.
When the egg was just beginning to be dry and while it was still soft and airy, he removed it from the pan on to a warmed plate and added avocado slices, feta cheese, sliced green onions on top and a mild salsa mixture at the side.
Fresh-squeezed orange juice completed the meal and he motioned to Liam to sit and eat. "There's milk to go with the corn meal if you like. I'm not a fan of milk with this particular cereal but you might want some."
Liam sat, said grace and ate.
Ryan sat, wondered what Liam was saying and to whom, and ate. Ryan had never heard grace said at the table. Not at home. Certainly not at culinary school. Never during his art training. Ever.
He had never darkened the door of a church. His family didn't attend. His friends didn't go to church. No one he knew was religious. He had never thought of any meaning to the words 'God' or 'Jesus' or 'Christ'.
Ryan thought about it for a minute. He had heard his dads yelling the words during sex and sometimes during a fight.
When they were having a special fuck they sometimes referred to 'sweet Jesus' and when they got mad, they sometimes yelled 'God damn it!" and then apologized for saying it and they had always told him not to say those things, so he hadn't.
The grace thing stunned him for some reason.
"This stuff isn't bad, Ri."
That stunned Ryan too. He knew most people didn't eat hot cereal anymore except perhaps in Siberia and not always there.
"Where did you learn to say those words before you eat?"
"What?"
"You were talking to somebody just before you picked up your spoon."
"I was praying."
"What's that?"
"I was asking God's grace on my food."
"What's that?"
"I was asking God to bless the food so it would nourish me. And if you must know, I was thanking him for letting me find you."
"Did the food need this, um, blessing thing?"
Liam grinned. "Time will tell, but it's a safe path, no?"
"I grew up in a religious home, Ryan. My folks went to church and prayed and so, I guess, I did too. It was the thing to do in our house."
"If my folks had been awful people, I might have rejected everything and anything they believed in and did, but they are good people and I want to be like them."
"In a lot of ways, I want to be like my dad. I just don't want to marry a woman like he did. I don't have to be a carbon copy of my father. He enjoys a woman, I'm guessing. I prefer you. Vastly."
"I believe that Jesus is real and he's my brother. He said he was anyway. I know He loves me and wants me to be happy. There are any number of people who say they believe in Him when what they really believe in down deep is hate and fear."
"Jesus said to love everybody," said Liam. "Fake Christians everywhere don't seem to have a major problem dragging fags down the road behind a pickup truck until they are dead."
"I want you to meet my parents, Ri. You'll like them. They will like you before and after they get used to the idea that you are my lover and partner for life."
"Heck, I'm still getting used to that idea. To think that I get to wake up beside you for the rest of my life, even when I'm 90 years old. Jesus knew what I needed and let me find you."
Liam liked the food. A lot.
"Do you think you would consider visiting our store today sometime and walk through it as a potential customer might see it and give me your thoughts?"
"For you, I'd walk on hot coals. I guess walking through your store can't hurt that bad."
That same afternoon a taxi dropped the men off in front of a small convenience store a bit above Central Park. It had a red awning over the front shading some cases of fruit and vegetables and a gold-lettered sign on a window "Reilly's Deli". A screen-door painted a non-descript green protected the interior from flying insects.
On one wall there was an area of brighter paint shaped like a vented hood just below a metal patch over what had been an opening in the wall and Ryan guessed there had been a hood and vent there in the past which inferred that there had been a lunch counter there once.
Now all the snacks were on a rack on one row and one had to search for that row to find the packaged ho-hum candy and snacks. There wasn't any way to identify which sandwiches or muffins were fresh and some of the packaged sweet snacks were off-brand and the expiration dates weren't readable.
There were lottery signs and a machine on the counter and scratch-off examples under the glass on the counter. No tobacco was advertised or for sale. The store sold wine and beer but no hard liquors.
Ryan thought out loud. "What years did this store do its highest volume?"
"In the first years that the Korean man owned it. There are still a few old people in the hood who remember lines of people nearly around the block to get in."
"Wonder what they were after? Might be a good idea to find out. Does the store have any old records?"
"I don't think so, but I'll ask dad."
Liam turned and looked at his dad behind the counter. His dad had just rung up a customer and saw his son smiling at him from the candy aisle.
"Hey, bud, you got the day off A&P?"
"Yeah, dad, I did. Just showing my friend around the store. Let me introduce him."
Motioning Ryan over to the counter, Liam introduced him to his dad.
"Joseph Reilly, I would like to introduce Ryan Fellowes. Joseph is my father, Ryan. Dad, Ryan is a special friend I met a couple of days ago. He's from Ohio originally."
The two men shook hands and greeted each other. Liam the Forward suddenly froze; Ryan kept waiting for the next bit of information to flow from Liam to his dad. And waited.
"I am delighted that Liam has found his special guy at last... unless I am mistaken... you are him, right?"
Liam's head snapped up and looked at his dad. His dad had glanced back to him, smiling. "Parents who pay attention to their kids learn a lot," Joseph explained. "We don't always get it right, but your mom and I have known for some time that your face brightens up a good deal when a handsome boy or man walks in the door and at the same time, a drop-dead gorgeous girl gets only a look"
"Ryan is everything you've been waiting for, I'd guess. He's bright enough to make a good 'quick' judgment on a quality kid in only two days, he's patient enough to wait for you to explain things to your father, he's good-looking, and has already assessed this place with some kind of astute observation."
Joseph continued, "Ryan, you saw the spot on the wall where the old hood and vent were, didn't you? And you also were noting the, um, quality of our baked snacks."
"I saw you looking and figured you are a thinker, and my next thought was wondering whether my Liam appreciated you for that too."
Ryan's face got red, then he started to chuckle. "You are Liam's father, aren't you?"
They talked for a while, Joseph gave them some bottled water and they left for the Museum. Ryan was looking forward to introducing Liam to John and Jayden. JJ (as Ryan called them) were at home and the footman announced Ryan and Liam into their office.
The Schuyler office in the museum was actually a suite of rooms, the outer of which was an alcove for the 'new' appointments secretary and a desk for a security guard with a good view of a huge security monitor screen across the alcove and overhead with the ability to see the output of any camera keyed into it from around or in the museum.
Inside the tall, double wood doors, the main office for JJ had two large glass desks with laptops, a bathroom and shower off one corridor, a dining room off another corridor and very small kitchen, a walk-in closet, a very wide couch and pillows at one wall, a linen closet off the bathroom, and comfortable soft chairs in front of the desks.
A contemporary of Titian with eyes for picture frames of a smaller scope (3 x 4 ft) had painted a portrait of "David and Jonathan" which hung on the office wall. The portrait for obvious reasons wasn't in any art catalog and was generally unknown but rumored in the art world.
Its portrayal of David and Jonathan busy 'loving' each other nude was a stimulating example of 1520's Renaissance porn on a unique mounting which allowed it to be quickly turned to the wall for the calendar on the back to show to uninitiated guests.
"John Lodge and Jayden Miller, I would like to introduce my special friend to you, Mr. Liam Reilly. John and Jayden are the beneficiaries of the Schuyler Trust, Liam. They live here, watch out for the Trust's silverware and also get to watch out for the investments of the Trust."
"Liam, I call these guys JJ at their request and one day they might ask you to call them the same. None of them are Schuyler by blood but they know the history of the Trust and its owners over the years like you know your back yard."
"JJ, we were just slumming, and I wanted Liam to see the museum tour and walk with me around the fountains...it's a nice day for that here in Manhattan. Forgive Liam, he just had to introduce me to his father and he's still shaken a little."
"Turns out his dad knew we were an item before Liam told him, saving Liam that stress. His dad took it really well since he already knew. It was like coming in, not coming out, to one's family".
JJ laughed. Jayden asked, "What kind of work does your father do, Liam?"
"He and my mom own a little convenience store a few blocks over that they bought a few years ago from a Korean man who needed to sell it."
"Do you mean 'Reilly's Deli'?
"Yeah, that's the one."
John and Jayden looked at each other, then back at Liam. "To the extent we read each other's mind, I think we're starting to wonder just how close coincidence can be to fate or non-coincidence and still be coincidence. There's a story about that store, now Reilly's Deli."
"What do you mean?"
That store is an integral part of Schuyler history. Michael and Marcus Schuyler-Jones, a few beneficiaries back, were a gay couple who met at Grinnell College. They married and wanted kids, found a couple of abandoned twins on the sidewalk in front of that deli and raised them. Eric and Loren, the twins, grew up, one became beneficiary, the other the investment fund manager. Those twins used to wreak havoc in that store as kids, annoying the customers to get their share of the peppermint ice cream.
"What?"
"Yes, at the time the owner had an exclusive with a dairy upstate that made peppermint ice cream of such outstanding quality, the story goes, that people would come from all over the city and stand in line for hours for that ice cream.
At one time, the store shipped bulk peppermint ice cream to European markets, including England where Eric courted Brent, his lover he met at the Louvre, the same guy he flew home to meet the parents and the dessert at that house in London that day was a peppermint ice cream Brent's mom had in the freezer, his favorite ice cream from that deli purchased at Fortnum and Masons in Piccadilly... the deli in Manhattan made a fortune until the owner died, the contract went south and then the farm went out of business upstate."
Ryan and Liam looked at each other, wondering if the other was thinking the same thing.
They left JJ then after arranging to 'double-date' at the apartment soon.
Back at the apartment, Ryan told Liam that the ice cream might be a real asset to the deli.
"We would have to find that farm, research the grass, the cows, the recipe for the peppermint ice cream, buy the farm, buy the right cows, get the right bulls to fuck em, raise the right calves, make the right ice cream...if we owned the farm, the exclusive would be ours and we'd give it to your parents... it's the least we can do for the people who made you, the love of my life, the guy who I am going to wake up to."
Sheila Glover, aged 35, was a newly-minted forensic business consultant. Her specialty began as a historian; she doubled down on that through a business degree, and further refined her edge through her personality. She had brass balls and the tenacity of a glue-sniffing ferret.
She had been in business as a forensic business consultant for exactly three weeks without a single client when in the space of two hours, three calls came in. The first was an elderly lady who wondered if Sheila could find her cat. The second call was from a guy who sold 'foreign stuff' and wanted to know if she did autopsies on dead people to recover bags of 'stuff'.
The third call was a referral from the Schuyler Trust (she only knew the name Schuyler because it was plastered on a museum somewhere in the city). She had called the number given and a Mr. Ryan Fellowes had asked about her rates.
She told him she didn't know. "You're my first customer of my business and I'm feeling lucky and you should be feeling the same way. Why don't you pay me afterward. It wasn't a question.
"Just pay me what I'm worth to you."
The first order of business was to find the farm and every speck of information about it, even if she had to visit the place and have the grass DNA analyzed.
She could consult newspapers, try to find old container industries that made the tubs for the ice cream, research the printer companies that printed the tubs to find ingredients on old labels, etc.
In two weeks, Sheila called Mr. Fellowes back.
She had found information about the farm from property records of failed farms in Upstate New York cross referencing with dairy and ice cream production records in Albany and interviews with local residents around the deli and time spent in the New York Library downtown amid the stone lions, had become overly familiar with the New York Post and Times archives, and had identified the owners of the farm.
Sheila found the companies who made the bulk ice cream tubs, the printers of those tubs as well, had found and interviewed a retired printer who remembered where everything was, had spoken with a rather desperate widow of a grandson of the farmer who had a trunk in her attic with farm papers and creamery papers and the holy Grail... the recipe!
That same trunk had farm records of the cows and their butterfat content and the cow's names, by crikey! A picture in a local paper showed black and white Holstein cows in a green pasture, portions of which still existed.
Snippets and close-up pictures of the grass revealed the exact strain of grass, etc.
Sheila Glover, astonished at the response this elicited, decided that she could, indeed, study up and manage this farm in her 'spare' time from her forensic business practice.
The bill for her services did not specify an amount, but when a wire for $200,000 USD arrived in her business account and when she factored in the loss from the 'no cat search' and her singular lack of interest in doing 'autopsies' to find intestinal drug pouches in deceased human 'mules' from Central America, she considered herself contented with the more steady farm manager income and benefits that had also been offered by Mr. Fellowes.
Joseph Reilly pondered his son and his unofficial new 'son-in law'. His wife, Minerva, hadn't met Ryan yet. He had not told her about meeting Ryan since he figured that was Liam's privilege. Liam lived right there with them, hadn't always been home recently, and Joseph was aware that Liam had been staying over with Ryan some nights.
One night at supper, Joseph asked Liam if it would be OK to have his new friend over for supper since his mom hadn't met him yet?
"Uh, sure, dad. When's a good night for you, mom?"
At that point, Minerva knew. One's son didn't bring over someone for supper after asking the diplomatic question to one's mother 'When's a good night for the coronation, mom?" unless a coronation or other important event was going to happen. This guy was her son's significant other at the very least and possibly her only son's life partner and she was going to do this right or die trying.
She smiled inside. She'd made her Irish husband proud, made him happy...she could do it for her son too. First the menu. Catered, she thought. No mistakes there. She rethought that. No message either.
Catered meals didn't have the desired 'welcome to the family's heart' message. Her son and his friend deserved better. They deserved her best. She remembered the grilled cheese sandwiches she used to get in college...a slice of tomato along with four kinds of sliced cheese, choices of sourdough, ciabatta, lightly fried in a mix of butter and canola oil in a frying pan and kept warm in the oven at 200 degrees F.
Best served with grilled cheese sandwiches was the deluxe tomato soup from scratch with chunks of tomato, cream, and finely diced celery for crunch tossed in at the last minute, carefully seasoned, and for dessert, only fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies would do. All that said 'love' to her and would just have to do.
On Thursday night, the doorbell rang, the door opened, and Liam stepped in with Ryan on his heels. Minerva's first impression of Ryan was that he was handsome, no... better than that, gorgeous... with a kind expression, clear eyes, a tiny bit taller than Liam, great chest, flat abdomen, well-dressed, nice shoes, good energy and posture, white teeth, maybe a tiny bit nervous...
Liam spoke, "Minerva Reilly, I'd like to introduce my special friend, Ryan Fellowes. Ryan, this is my mom. Mom... "
"Yes, honey, I think I already know. I've been waiting for you to bring a special guy home for a long, long time and I'm so glad to get to meet you, Ryan. Welcome to our family."
She held out her arms and for some reason Ryan headed right into her arms.
Liam's eyes shredded about that time, focus was hard to obtain, and when he could see again, he had felt his father's arms enclose him, then his mother's arms around him, and now his hand was back in Ryan's hand.
"Have a Kleenex, honey. Ya never know when they come in handy."
"Ryan," Minerva began, "all my life I've dreamed about an offspring bringing someone important home... tell me more about you, son."
Ryan fell into 'like' with his new 'mom' and did just that.
"...and then I saw Liam on the ladder and wondered if he'd seen me, because he'd missed a step and it looked like his ankle might have been sprained, but it wasn't, thank God."
Minerva took in a deep breath. "Ryan, let's continue this over supper if you're hungry."
"Sure thing."
"Here, you two sit on this side together. Joe and I will sit on this side."
Minerva saw a tear come into Ryan's eye. "Did I say something...oh... I'm so sorry, your dad was 'Joe', that dad that just passed? I think he'd be proud of you, Ryan. Do you believe you will see him again?"
"I won't press you... it's a pretty fresh wound you have."
"Well," said Joseph, what have you two have you been working on? Anything related to business, or are the two of you still learning where each other's freckles are?"
Ryan was instantly beet-red. "Uh, well, sir... um, we've been looking for data on ice cream."
Minerva laughed, "Is that what they are calling it now?"
"Mom," screeched Liam, "Ryan won't want to come back."
"I'll be back, Liam. Wild horses wouldn't keep me away. This food is home in a dish, and the company is terrific too."
"Seriously," Ryan continued, "there turned out to be a story about the hood and vent at the deli, kind of."
Joseph's ear perked up. "A story..."
Over grilled cheese and tomato soup and wonderful cookies, the story of the peppermint ice cream/Schuyler connection was told. The Reilly parents, Joseph and Minerva, weren't slow people.
"Ryan, why did you research that farm and all the rest?"
"Because I love your son and am ready to do whatever I can possibly do for the parents who brought him up to be the kind of person he is. I've never met a guy like him."
"I'm not an expert on rewards in life or after life for that matter. I know a reward, however, when I see one. Liam is a reward, but not for anything I ever did. Which means I didn't deserve him."
"I don't deserve him. It's a graceful gift to me which I did nothing to earn by my own action."
"I get to enjoy this guy for the rest of my life as a gift of some kind from somewhere and I don't even understand why... My life is now full of hope and joy instead of something else because of a gift that I'd like to know more about sometime."
Minerva knew or thought she knew precisely what that gift was, but for the moment was content to know that Ryan knew the right question to ask.
"Another cookie? Sorry I don't have any ice cream to go with it!"
"You will in about three months."
Sheila wasn't a bit shy. She wasn't a nervous person nor was there hesitancy in her marrow. Ryan and Liam noted very few days without a phone call or meeting building lists, assigning tasks, making choices, spending money, all toward the goal of peppermint ice cream for Reilly's Deli.
From real estate people to attorneys to other farmers to county commissioners to farm workers to providers of peppermint, she bullied, badgered, swindled, sweet-talked, and otherwise moved people by a hundred ways. Some knew what hit them; others just bent with the wind that blew by. A brand-new vent and hood along with an overhead burnished copper pot-rack to match arrived at the deli six weeks after she started and was promptly installed by a company she hadn't hired. Joseph just leaned back and laughed until the lighting people arrived later the same day with brand-new intense spotlights for the interior of the store. The painters arrived the next day and Joseph was beginning to just expect whatever walked in the door that day.
The ice cream quality was equal or better than before according to the oldsters that had lived on the block forever. There were lines stretching a long way again after the self-referral publicity of those who ate the ice cream and the marketing/human interest campaign in both printed and social media, radio and television campaigns and the cute guys in Times Square, then all over the city at major intersections wearing the sandwich boards too.
Things picked up at the Deli.
Payne and David had their own sources in New York including Ryan himself and decided it was time to meet Liam. David and Payne flew commercial that trip and when they came out past TSA, Ryan and Liam were there. They had arrived an hour early.
"I'd rather be early than one minute late for this, but I'm not nervous, nope, not even a butterfly here. Can't you drive just a little faster?"
"Payne and David Fellowes, I'd like to introduce Liam Reilly to you. Liam, these two good-looking studs are my biological fathers x 2. I've never been a part of their love-making other than getting to watch. They both contributed to my genetic makeup. Dads, Liam and I have chosen to be partners in life. I love him very much."
That night after supper and a lot of talk, Ryan showed his dads to their room. Both Liam and Ryan awoke a couple hours later to the obvious lovemaking in the next room, the bed knocking against the wall, the happy sounds.
Liam and Ryan got up and tip-toed down the hall to see what the hell was going on, but Liam stood transfixed at what he saw...two gorgeous men fucking naked on the bed, lights on, covers askew...
Payne noted the movement at the door, looked up, saw Liam and Ryan and waved them in. "Hey guys, come play with us. You are adults now and we won't tell anybody. Neither of you is a kid anymore. Come join. Your cocks say you want to."
David looked up at Ryan with love and lifted his hand to him. "Come on over here, Ryan. There might have been one or two things we didn't show you over the years. Let's see if we missed anything. There's room beside us, Lay your guy down here beside Payne. Let's fuck our men side by side tonight and come together, us dads and sons.
Ryan looked at Liam and nodded with a question mark in his eye. Liam nodded back and grinned. Their remaining threads were off quickly, and Liam kneeled on the bed beside Payne and began to kiss him.
Ryan mounted Liam and the tip of his cock teased Liam's hole which shortly granted admission. Liam continued to lock his mouth with Payne, meeting David's mouth there too. Liam's hand was soon on David's slippery cock, tugging it over to Payne's ass.
After breakfast the next morning Liam and Ryan were showering and talking in a low tone of voice.
"Ryan, I don't want to do that again... it's just too close to going over some line I have in my head about playing with my dad or mom.
"I know it's a little different because my dad is hetero and wouldn't want to play like that, but it blurs the lines for me, and I don't want that with you. You are all I want. We talked about this, remember?"
Ryan told him he was feeling the same way and was glad Liam told him. "You are all I need and want, actually more than I deserve or ever expected, that's for sure. I'll talk to David and Payne. They'll understand, I think."